The tension still lingered in the air as they turned their back to the throne. The sound of their footsteps echoed across the vast castle courtyard, mingling with the cold, scornful whispers of nobles who stared at them as though they were nothing more than unwanted pests.
They left the palace slowly, escorted by General Arald, who motioned them forward without sparing a glance at the hostile glares.
Arald (sharply): "Don't listen to them. Those nobles have never drawn a blade in their lives. Their contempt means nothing."
The golden gate closed behind them with a heavy clang. Outside, a warm breeze welcomed them, carrying scents of spices, flowers, and kitchen smoke. They had stepped into the capital of Shaulkkia.
For a moment, silence followed them as their footsteps rang against the marble-paved streets. The contrast between the oppressive weight of the court and the vibrant life of the city was staggering.
Anthony (hands in his pockets, glancing around): "This place is… massive."
Matheo (awestruck, staring at a crystal fountain): "Look at that, man. This isn't a capital… it's a damn jewel."
Rehann (thoughtful): "And to think, not even twenty-four hours ago, we were sleeping in a forest…"
Max (stopping,overwhelmed): "Do you guys realize what's happening? Like, really? We're in another world… walking through a royal city. We're literally living an isekai."
They laughed, but it was a nervous laugh—cracked by the weight of reality. The thrill of discovery collided head-on with the crushing expectations that now hung over them.
Rehann (shaking his head): "We got humiliated in front of the entire court… I wanted to dig a hole and vanish."
Anthony (stifling his anger): "That king of Zartox… Rillèsse… he looked at us like garbage."
Max (half-whispering): "And he wasn't entirely wrong. We're weak. We don't even know how to fight yet."
They walked on in an uneasy silence. The sun was sinking, painting the buildings with shades of orange and gold.
Matheo (trying to stay positive): "At least we're alive. And now we've got a goal. We have to get stronger. Maybe this is our call to become somebodies."
They crossed a lively square where children ran laughing, merchants shouted their wares, and musicians were playing a light tune of flute. The brutal contrast with their night of terror was almost surreal.
Rehann (with a distracted glance towards the streets): "I wonder how our families are doing… if they're even looking for us…"
Silence….
Anthony (lowering his eyes): "There's no going back. Not for now. So we might as well become the legends they want."
As they made their way deeper into the bustling streets of Shaulkkia, the four exchanged weary but determined glances. Despite the wonder of the capital, one thing was clear: they needed to build solid ground if they wanted to survive here.
Max (to the others): "Alright… we need some organization. What's the plan?"
Rehann (pragmatic): "First thing: find a place to sleep. I'm not spending the night on the streets with this world's beggars."
Anthony (nodding): "Then gear up. Right now all we've got are torn clothes…"
Matheo (half-joking): "And after that, we'll see if fate throws another gorgon at us… or another pissed-off king."
Max: "Simple plan then: rest, gear, and adapt."
As they debated, a voice called from behind them.
Arald (calm but steady): "Looking for a roof for the night?"
The four jumped, startled to see the knight appearing so quietly
Rehann (groaning): "Tch… you're gonna kill us one of these days, man."
Arald (smirking slightly): "I know an inn. Owned by an old friend. It's modest, honest, and away from prying eyes. It'll do."
Anthony (raising a brow): "You sure it's not crawling with fleas, old man?"
Arald (chuckling): "If you survived a level 25 beast, you'll survive a few rough sheets."
Without further protest, the boys exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed Arald through the cobblestone streets. The sun was sinking lower, spilling golden light over the rooftops and walls of the capital.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a corner building, tucked slightly away from the main bustling avenues.
Anthony (muttering as he read the sign): "Mmh… The Inn of the Four Paths…"
The dark wooden façade was modestly decorated, with lanterns casting a warm glow. The hand-carved sign bore the image of a compass surrounded by four winding roads stretching in different directions. The wood was weathered but well kept. No gaudy luxury, no grim poverty—a reassuring middle ground.
Matheo (eyeing it): "Not too bad. Not too good. I'll take it."
They stepped inside.
Warmth wrapped around them instantly, a mix of firewood smoke and the scent of aged timber. Sturdy oak tables and benches filled the room, worn but reliable. The walls were decorated with old maps, mementos of travelers, and a few antique weapons. A handful of patrons sat scattered, drinking quietly or whispering among themselves. The atmosphere was calm, almost intimate.
The floor creaked beneath their steps.
Behind the counter, a man with a thick beard and sharp eyes polished a jug. His rolled-up sleeves and brown apron gave him the look of someone rugged yet welcoming.
Arald (approaching him): "Gilden. Still standing, eh? I've brought you some fresh blood."
The innkeeper lifted his head, flashing a broad grin.
Gilden: "Kids with tired faces and trouble hanging off their shoulders… perfect. My favorite kind of guests. Welcome to my inn, boys."
Gilden flashed a wide grin as the boys stepped inside:
"Oh oh! Welcome to my inn! Here, you'll be treated like kings, AHAHAHAH! Tell me, what are your names?"
The heroes answered one by one, each giving their first name. Hearing them, Gilden squinted, puzzled:
"Hmm… strange names, all of them. You're not from here, are you?"
Arald, standing right beside them, replied calmly:
"Indeed, they are not from our world. They are the summoned heroes… here to help us."
A heavy silence instantly filled the room. Every gaze turned slowly toward the group, a mix of shock and fascination gleaming in the eyes of the customers.
Gilden staggered back, jaw dropped:
"Wait… what? No… Arald, you're joking, right?! This is a joke, tell me it's a joke!"
But Arald's sly smile, and the pride in his eyes, said otherwise.
The innkeeper's heart pounded in his chest. A spark of genuine excitement lit up his gaze. He looked at the young boys as though legends themselves had stepped into his humble inn.
"O mighty heroes! I shall prepare the finest feast and grant you the most comfortable chambers!" he cried, almost trembling with joy.
The four teens, embarrassed by his enthusiasm, chuckled:
"Ahah, no need for that. A simple room will be more than enough… and don't trouble yourself with food, we're not really hungry. But thank you for your kindness."
"Guilda!" Gilden suddenly shouted.
"Show these young heroes to their room!"
From the back of the kitchen, a feminine silhouette appeared. She was breathtaking. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her features fine and perfectly balanced, her pale skin glowing under the dim light of the hall. But what immediately caught the boys' eyes were her long, pointed ears—an elf.
At once, some of the male customers began whistling and throwing crude remarks like starving dogs. Yet she remained composed, graceful, ignoring the vulgarity as though it didn't exist.
"Please, follow me. I will guide you," she said in a soft, calm tone.
The heroes followed her upstairs, down a dim corridor, before she stopped before a light wooden door.
"Here is your room. Rest well."
"Thank you very much," they replied in unison, sincerely.
Matheo pushed the door open with hesitation, bracing for a dusty, shabby room… but instead, it was spotless. Four large beds with fresh white sheets, polished wooden floors, and a soft glow from a small skylight.
The boys sighed in relief, dropped their weapons at the foot of their beds, and collapsed onto the mattresses. Max exhaled deeply, eyes shut, as though releasing all the tension from the past days.
For a few blissful seconds, silence filled the room—until Rehann finally spoke.
Rehann: "Well… this might be the first time since we got here that I feel even a little… safe."
Anthony, sprawled across his bed: "Makes sense, bro… we got attacked twice already."
Matheo, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling: "That monster was terrifying… goddamn."
Max, reopening his eyes, still shaken: "And that guy who knocked us out cold… do you think he was from this world too?"
Rehann: "I don't know… but this sure as hell isn't some happy isekai with overpowered skills."
Silence returned. Each of them stared at the ceiling or a corner of the room, their earlier excitement of being summoned to another world slowly giving way to a harsher reality.
Max murmured: "We're gonna have to toughen up. Fast."
Anthony nodded: "Way too rough otherwise."
The morning dawned gray and quiet. The four heroes came down to the inn's main hall, tired yet determined, their weapons strapped and boots laced tight. Arald was already waiting at a table, raising a hand in greeting. Beside him, Gilden wiped a mug with his ever-cheerful grin.
Arald: "Ah, there you are! Slept well?"
Max: "Could've been better…"
Gilden: "They've got the faces of lads who didn't sleep a wink! Ahah!"
Anthony (with a faint smile): "Let's just say we were busy thinking how to stay alive."
Arald: "That's exactly why I'm here. Come, sit with me."
The boys sat around the table. Respecting their privacy, Gilden slipped away.
Arald leaned forward, his voice calm but steady:
"I need to understand you better. To help you, I must know how you fight, what drives you… what you are. Tell me about your choice—what you became when you were summoned."
A pause lingered. Then Max spoke first, resting his arms on the table.
Max: "Me… I'm a warrior. No weapons. Just my fists."
He struck his palm lightly with his right fist.
Max: "I'll fight with my body. That's all I've ever known."
Arald (raising an intrigued brow): "Hm… a raw path. Did you know your choice mirrors that of the martial warriors of Kael? Fighters who reject weapons, forging their strength in flesh and spirit. Perhaps their blood runs in you."
Max blinked, slightly taken aback.
Rehann stepped up next.
"For me, it was obvious. I chose 'Weapon Master.' It felt natural. I wanted to wield anything I could."
He gestured toward the long staff leaning by his chair.
"I started with this one."
Arald (smiling, impressed): "Fascinating… The kingdom of Shaulkkia trains an elite order called Weapon Masters. Their training is merciless, but they can wield any weapon with unmatched grace. Your instincts guided you well."
Matheo, towering, dropped his chipped axe onto the table.
"I went with Tank. Don't really know what that means here, but… I feel right protecting others."
He tapped his heavy shield.
"And with a big axe, just to keep things fun."
Arald: "A classic but deadly combination. That class hails from the twin lands of Shak and Yano, where warriors are famed for inhuman endurance. It runs in you as well."
Finally, Anthony spoke, his tone more measured.
"I chose the path of Assassin. It felt… right. Silent, quick, lethal. I picked a scythe—it seemed tied to some kind of dark magic."
He drew the weapon carefully, its blade devouring the light around it.
Arald (serious): "You have awakened the assassins of Zartox. Shadows incarnate, raised in the kingdom of the North. Their bond between weapon and dark magic is unique. Your scythe proves it."
The four exchanged uneasy glances.
Rehann: "So what—you're saying our choices weren't just instinct? That they're connected to this world?"
Arald: "Exactly. Maybe this world influenced you without you realizing it… or maybe you were meant to be here all along."
He gave them a knowing smile.
"Now… I think it's time we find you proper gear, don't you?"
Their weary faces instantly lit up.
Max (pumping his fist): "Yesss! Finally! We gotta look badass now!"
Arald (chuckling): "Patience, fools. Before looking cool, you'll eat."
Almost on cue, Gilden burst from the kitchen with steaming trays. The aroma of spices, grilled meat, and fresh bread filled the air.
Gilden: "Tadaaa! The best breakfast for the saviors of the realm! Eat up!"
The boys didn't need to be told twice. They devoured the meal with joy, thanking Gilden warmly afterward, before leaving with Arald.