Morning in Sedoma dawned gray, though without the heaviness of the previous night. The roofs still carried the scent of rain, and the market had yet to wake when Satoru and the demi-humans left the inn. The weather remained erratic—humid, heavy, never quite settling. Nothing dangerous, just bothersome. Enough to delay the merchants who shook damp cloths and dragged crates with weary resignation.
The streets were quieter than the day before. Many sellers hadn't recovered their goods after the sudden weather shifts; others simply waited for the day to stabilize. The silence between the empty stalls was more striking than the murmurs of the few customers wandering by.
Satoru walked without hurry, scanning through piles of old documents while casually gauging the air around them. There was no need to force the weather again—yet—but he knew later he might have to.
They checked three stalls before the calm broke.
A faint tremor rippled through the ground beneath their feet—a quick, dry motion that vanished as soon as it came. Tama jumped instinctively. Pochi glanced around, confused. Liza tensed her shoulders out of reflex.
"What was that?" Tama asked, clutching the papers in her hands.
"The ground moved…" Pochi murmured.
Satoru lowered his gaze for a moment. The tremor wasn't deep or dangerous, but it was strange for a city like Sedoma. He didn't need to overanalyze it—it only meant that, if such disturbances kept repeating and interfered with his work, he'd have to deal with them as he had with the rain.
"It's nothing serious," he said calmly.
And they kept walking.
The market slowly came alive. More vendors opened their stalls now—some selling aromatic herbs, others displaying polished tools, and some with piles of old books that had barely survived the humidity.
Tama pointed ahead. "Master, look."
In the plaza, visible from the market's main corridor, stood the statue of the ancient King Yamato. A man clad in full armor, holding a sword sculpted with such detail it seemed to glimmer despite the dull morning light.
From where they stood, the figure looked imposing. The stone had been worn smooth by wind and rain, yet its posture remained intact—rigid and commanding.
Tama raised her arms to gauge its height. "It's like two Lizas."
Pochi nodded. "Even taller than Master."
Liza said nothing, though the statue caught her attention as well—not for its size, but for what it represented to the people here.
Satoru only gave it a passing glance before moving on. It wasn't relevant to his goal, though the historical coincidence wasn't lost on him.
They resumed their search. Damp documents, forgotten records, worthless scraps mixed with occasional useful notes.
The market awakened little by little. Every now and then, a vendor glanced curiously at the well-dressed man sifting through piles of junk. None dared to question him, and the morning went on beneath a pale sky.
Satoru kept examining everything—patient, methodical—reading through every piece while remaining aware of the faint tremors and the threat of returning rain.
The hours passed faster than they seemed. Their search stretched from street to street, stall to stall, until the daylight began to fade behind the clouds. Some merchants were already closing up, resigned to the sky darkening again.
Satoru paused and tilted his head slightly upward. Without making any visible gesture, he released the faint control he'd maintained over the weather since dawn. In response, as if waiting for his permission, the clouds began to gather over Sedoma once more. The brightness dimmed at a steady pace.
Tama's ears drooped. Liza noticed as well.
"Master…" she began. "It seems that today too…"
"We'll continue tomorrow," Satoru interrupted evenly.
There was no frustration in his tone—just precision. The search had to go on, regardless of weather or fatigue.
They turned to leave, but Tama suddenly froze. Her ears twitched sharply.
"Tama?" Pochi asked.
The cat-girl didn't reply. Her eyes fixed on a point behind them. Between the half-empty stalls, a middle-aged man walked around, asking questions to the remaining vendors.
"Have you seen a noble buying old documents?" he asked, slightly out of breath.
The merchant he addressed shook his head—bored, cold, clearly eager to close up. The man sighed, discouraged, and moved on, carrying three books and several sheets tied together with cheap cord.
That was all it took for Tama to step forward—then another step, and suddenly she was running.
"Tama!" Pochi called, startled.
Her voice drew both Liza's and Satoru's attention—but by then, Tama was already weaving between people and crates without hesitation. Her hood slipped back, revealing her feline ears completely. A few onlookers turned to stare, some curious, some cautious, but Tama didn't stop.
"Sir! Please, wait!" she shouted, her voice clear in the drizzle.
The man turned just as she reached him. His eyes dropped first to her ears, and a quiet whisper escaped him. "…A demi-human?"
Tama flinched slightly at the word, only for a second, but she held her ground, clutching the coins she'd prepared. "I want to buy those," she said, pointing at the three books.
The man studied her—then cleared his throat awkwardly. He felt both the social tension and the scent of opportunity. "Ah… yes, yes, I'm selling these," he said, forcing a smile that was almost friendly. "They're rare—very rare. One silver coin."
An absurd price. Even the purchases her master had made before hadn't cost more than a large copper coin. A silver coin was five times that.
But Tama quickly reached into her pouch and pulled out a handful of large copper coins.
During their travels, Satoru had taught them to recognize each coin's worth—copper, large copper, silver, gold—and when each was reasonable to use. It was part of their education, as essential as learning to read.
Tama knew she was offering a lot. But she also knew she wanted to help.
"Here," she said, holding out the coins.
The man took the money instantly—and handed her only one book.
"This one for now," he said. "You never said which one you wanted."
Tama blinked, startled. "But I…"
"If you want the others, you'll have to pay again," he cut her off, already turning to leave.
Tama took a hesitant step forward, wanting to protest, but her voice failed her. People were beginning to watch, and the man took advantage of her silence to walk away with the remaining documents.
Then his body froze.
Someone was behind him.
"…Ah," he breathed, his skin turning pale.
A hand rested on his shoulder—not harshly, but with weight.
Satoru.
His face was hidden beneath his hood, yet the intensity of his eyes alone was enough to paralyze the man. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The calm, cold pressure that emanated from him was enough to dry the man's throat.
Trembling, the vendor dropped the other two books and the loose papers. Then he stumbled backward and fled without looking back.
Tama hugged the book to her chest, lowering her head, trembling slightly—but not from fear. From worry. "Master… I… wanted to help," she murmured, her voice small and shaking. "I didn't mean to get in the way…"
Satoru reached out and took the book from her hands. He opened it slowly, his expression unchanged. His eyes scanned the text carefully, line by line, before closing it again with quiet precision.
Then, without hesitation, he handed it back to Tama and rested a hand atop her head.
"You did well," he said.
Tama blinked, startled. Her ears perked slightly. "Really?"
"This is exactly what I was looking for."
Raindrops began to fall then—slow, heavy drops marking the end of the day. But none of them moved right away. Tama held the book tightly with a mix of pride and relief, Pochi smiled faintly behind her, and Liza watched in silence.
Satoru, meanwhile, looked once more at the book's worn cover. With this, he could begin the next step.
***
The inn was quiet by the time night fell. The lamps on the first floor had been extinguished, and most travelers were asleep. Liza had tucked Tama and Pochi into bed; both girls slept soundly, exhausted after a long day of searching. The soft patter of rain on the roof filled the silence of the room.
Hans entered through the window without a sound, bowing slightly before Satoru.
"My lord. I followed the hero throughout the day. Nothing noteworthy. He spent most of his time flirting with the witch's apprentice—constantly. He angered his female companions, ignored the local soldiers, and showed no military or political concern."
That behavior fit what Satoru expected. Hans added further details about Sedoma's situation—the rumors, the unrest among the guards after the execution of the former lord. Satoru listened, though he didn't bother memorizing what wasn't useful.
"The witch is at the castle," Hans concluded. "She's already retired for the night."
Satoru closed the book he had been examining under the dim lamplight. That was the last step before he could fully focus on processing the documents recently obtained.
Liza stepped forward—not to volunteer, but to speak. Her gaze was firm.
"I wish you success in your task, master," she said simply.
Satoru met her eyes for a moment. Having her stay behind at the inn was the right choice. A night infiltration wasn't a place for her, considering her abilities. He nodded calmly, acknowledging her decision.
Hans left a clone hidden in the shadows, invisible even to anyone actively searching. The girls slept peacefully, unaware of anything.
Satoru left the inn soundlessly.
"Fly."
The spell lifted his body above the rooftops. The night air was cold, heavy with the humidity that never quite faded.
"Perfect Unknowable."
The magic wrapped around him in absolute silence. His figure cast no shadow; his presence vanished; even his magical essence disappeared completely. He was undetectable by any mundane or arcane means of this world.
Hans led the way from ahead, moving across Sedoma's rooftops until the castle came into view. The structure wasn't as large as the main capital's fortress—Sedoma was only a secondary city—but it still had walls and enough guards to deter ordinary intruders.
Satoru was not one of them.
He crossed the upper courtyard unseen, entering through a narrow window along the dim corridors where guards patrolled at predictable intervals.
The witch rested in an inner chamber, far from noise. The room was simple, lit by a fading lamp. On the table were neatly arranged flasks, herbs drying, bowls with residue of mixtures, and labeled bottles written in a firm hand.
The woman sat in a low chair, wrapped in a blanket. Her gray hair was braided over one shoulder. Her wrinkled hands rested on her lap. She breathed calmly, unaware of everything. It was a peaceful image—almost gentle.
And for good reason.
Sedoma cherished her. Decades earlier, when plague swept the region, it was her medicine that had saved thousands. Since then, her pact with the count had remained unbroken: twice a year, she delivered potions that sustained the frontier's survival. To them, she was a savior. A respected figure. A kindly grandmother.
But to Satoru…
She was a source of knowledge.
An irreplaceable one.
He approached without stirring even the air. The witch didn't wake.
Satoru pointed one finger.
"Death."
No light, no sound, no trace of motion. Her breathing simply stopped. Her heart ceased. Her face remained exactly as it had been an instant before—peaceful, as if asleep.
Satoru placed his hand on her forehead.
"Dark Wisdom."
The transfer was silent. Her techniques, recipes, refinements, personal adjustments, the ways she stabilized catalysts, her written and unwritten notes, her fears, her corrected mistakes—all flowed into Satoru within a single moment, leaving no disturbance behind.
When he removed his hand, the witch looked exactly the same—as though she might wake to resume her work.
Satoru left the room without looking back and rose into the night sky once more. He was finished, and now, at last, he could begin his recovery.
The return to the inn was silent. Satoru descended to their room, and Hans appeared beside him.
Inside, Liza greeted them immediately. She didn't ask questions. She simply straightened as her master entered, calm in her acceptance that his will moved without need for lengthy explanation. Tama and Pochi still slept, wrapped in their blankets.
Satoru closed the door behind him.
"We'll be away for a few hours," he said. "At dawn, prepare to leave."
Liza nodded without hesitation. "Then I'll rest and have everything ready before you return."
Hans stepped forward from the shadow. "I'll accompany you, my lord."
It wasn't an offer—it was expected.
Satoru gave a slight nod. The clone Hans had left would guard the room if needed; his presence was enough to keep them safe.
"We won't be long," Satoru said, adjusting his cloak. "The Forest of Illusions is ideal for what I need to test."
Liza watched him closely. It wasn't curiosity, but anticipation.
"Did you find something useful?" she asked carefully.
"More than useful," Satoru replied. "The witch had knowledge that may help with my condition."
There was much he wanted to test. The books he had read before paled in comparison to what he'd gained tonight. He was confident not only that he could understand the formula for the holy sword, but that his grasp of it was solid enough to test immediately.
For example—a method to enhance the regeneration of magical energy.
In YGGDRASIL, Satoru knew better than anyone: MP recovery was a fixed clock. One real-world hour to go from empty to full, unchangeable. Learning a technique capable of bending that rule was worth immediate experimentation.
Liza blinked, slightly surprised. She didn't grasp the full implications, but she understood its importance.
"I'll test it in her workshop," Satoru said. "It will be more efficient there."
Liza didn't argue, didn't ask, didn't express needless worry. She simply inclined her head.
"Then I'll wait here. When you return, we'll be ready to depart."
Satoru gave one last glance to Tama and Pochi, breathing softly beneath their blankets, untouched by the night moving around them. Then he turned toward the window, which Hans opened soundlessly.
"Let's go."
At his word, a portal appeared. Hans entered first, followed by Satoru, both vanishing into the darkness toward the Forest of Illusions.
Behind them, the room fell quiet.
***
The silence inside lingered. Liza had managed to sleep only a little, her cloak folded beside her, ready to dress the moment she woke. Tama and Pochi breathed evenly in the dim light, nestled in their blankets.
But the first rays of dawn were barely visible when their rest was interrupted.
A sharp knock at the door broke the quiet.
Liza's eyes opened instantly. She rose without making a sound. For a moment she thought her master had returned—but dismissed the idea the instant she sensed the presence beyond the door.
Satoru would never knock.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
"Hello? Anyone awake in there?" a man's voice called—energetic, utterly unconcerned about the hour.
That woke her fully. Liza inhaled, stood carefully to avoid waking the girls, and moved toward the door, picking up her spear along the way. Every step was silent. Every muscle alert. She felt no hostility—but something more dangerous: power. Real power. Power beyond any knight or monster she had ever sensed before.
She didn't know how it compared to her master or Hans—they always hid their presence—but this aura made even the demon that now served her master feel insignificant.
She approached the door cautiously. She glanced toward a corner of the room, knowing Hans's clone lingered somewhere unseen, and that alone let her breathe once.
She opened it.
The man standing there was a wall of muscle, confidence, and presence. Tall, broad-shouldered, athletic black hair, and a masculine, striking face marked by the ease of someone who knew exactly how strong he was. His blue armor gleamed even in the dim hallway light, fitted perfectly to a body trained for battle.
When he saw her, he grinned with unashamed boldness.
"Ohh… a perfectly flat chest. Just like a high-schooler's."
Liza blinked once, uncertain whether to be offended, confused, or impressed by the absurdity of the remark. Her body, however, reacted differently—she stepped forward, positioning herself protectively between him and the room.
The aura he emanated was immense. It felt as though the hallway itself grew smaller around him.
He, on the other hand, seemed delighted to introduce himself this way.
"Ah! Almost forgot." He raised a fist in a theatrical gesture no one should attempt at dawn. "I'm Hayato. Hayato Masaki. Hero summoned by the Saga Empire."
The way he said it made his name ring louder than it should have.
That alone was enough to make Tama's eyes snap open and Pochi sit up with a murmur.
Hayato turned toward them—and his grin widened even more.
"Well, look at that! Two cute little lolis. Your master's got great taste, huh?" He gave them a thumbs-up. "Keep growing up adorably!"
Tama, confused, rubbed her eyes. Pochi tilted her head.
Liza reacted immediately, moving to cover them completely.
Hayato lifted both hands in a "whoa, calm down" gesture.
"Hey, hey, I didn't come to fight. Relax," he said, still far too loud for the hour. "I'm looking for Satoru."
He glanced behind Liza, searching for any sign of another presence.
"Doesn't seem like he's here," he noted. "Well… that changes things a bit."
Crossing his arms, he leaned casually against the hallway wall, as if he'd just made a decision on his own.
"I've heard plenty about him. Good things, bad things… fascinating things." A spark of youthful excitement flashed in his eyes. "So I figured I'd meet him myself before deciding anything."
The air tightened for a moment. Not from threat—but from pure resolve.
"I'll wait here," he declared, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "When he returns, tell him the hero Hayato Masaki is waiting for him."
And without moving an inch, he smiled with that mix of foolishness, bravery, and absolute confidence that only someone truly powerful could possess.
Liza closed the door slowly.
Silence returned—not peaceful, but heavy, because the message had been delivered.
*****
Author's Note.
Hayato's finally here—and honestly, I'm not sure if this means we've finished the events equivalent to Volume 3 or if we're still halfway through. Technically, the original story wrapped up this part right after Satou solved the witch's potion issue and discovered that the papers he got were the guide for forging holy weapons. And since Volume 4 starts with the journey to Muno… I guess we're somewhere in between.
Also, with this chapter, we've officially passed 100,000 words!
It's crazy to think how far this story has come, and there's still so much ahead.
Thanks for reading as always—and see you next time.