The "Dawn Vanguards" secured a cheap, dusty rental house on the outskirts of the merchant's quarter. It was a far cry from Theron's former penthouse, but it served its purpose as a base of operations. The dynamics within its walls were a delicate, volatile chemistry experiment, and Theron was the scientist calmly adding reagents, waiting for the explosion.
He watched them unpack their meager belongings. Caden took the largest room without discussion, a natural assumption of leadership. Lyra and Isabelle squabbled over the room adjacent to his, their argument a symphony of hissed whispers and pointed glares. Cyrene, silent and sullen, took the smallest room at the end of the hall, as far from the others as possible. Theron chose the room next to hers.
The first evening was a masterclass in social engineering. Caden held court in the main living area, outlining his grand vision for their future. Lyra and Isabelle hung on his every word, their eyes glowing with adoration. Cyrene sat in a corner, arms crossed, her gaze a storm cloud. She would interject occasionally, her suggestions sharp and designed to prove her worth, but they were swiftly shot down by a unified front from Lyra and Isabelle, often with a condescending, "Oh, Cyrene, that's so short-sighted."
Theron played his part to perfection. He agreed with Caden's broader points, reinforcing the boy's ego. "A sound strategy, Caden. Your foresight is what this party needs." But he would then subtly refine the ideas, adding logistical details and contingency plans that made Caden nod in impressed agreement. He was cementing his role as the indispensable strategist, the calm, intelligent support that made the hero's dreams feasible.
To Lyra and Isabelle, he was a useful tool. He would compliment Lyra's dedication and Isabelle's keen observations, making them feel seen and validated. They began to see him not as a threat, but as an ally in their war against Cyrene.
But his primary focus was the cyan-haired beauty festering in the corner. He didn't engage her directly in the group. Instead, he would catch her eye when the others mocked her. His expression wasn't one of pity, but of a shared, secret understanding. A slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, 'I see it too. The injustice.'
The first cracks were already widening into chasms.
The next morning, Caden assembled them in the living room, his face serious. "Our first quests are mandatory E-rank missions. We need to choose two from the board." He laid out the same options Theron had already memorized.
Theron waited, letting the others speak first. As predicted, Caden was drawn to the bandit-hunting quest, a classic hero's starter mission. Lyra and Isabelle, eager to please, voiced their agreement.
It was Cyrene who, trying to reassert herself, pointed out the logistical nightmare. "The bandit quest is in the northern hills. The grain production quest is in the southern farmlands. They're weeks apart. It's inefficient."
Caden frowned, the heroism in his vision momentarily clashing with practical reality.
Theron saw his moment. He stepped forward, the picture of analytical calm. "Cyrene is correct," he said, and the use of her name without the formal "Lady" was a small but significant act of alliance that made her blink. "However, her solution of taking the one-horned rabbit and grain quests still presents a significant time cost. There is, however, a synergistic option."
He pointed to the two spider-related quests. "The fourth and fifth quests are for the same village. One is to cull the spider monster population in the nearby caves, the other is to help build a defensive wall. If we are ambitious, we could propose to the village chief that we eradicate the nest entirely, making the wall unnecessary and solving their problem at its root. We could complete both quests in one focused effort."
He had presented it as a bold, efficient strategy. He had also, very deliberately, said "spider."
Cyrene's breath hitched. A visible tremor ran through her. "No," she whispered, but her voice was lost.
Caden's eyes lit up. "Eradicate the nest... a decisive first strike! Theron, that's brilliant! It shows ambition and strength!"
"No!" Cyrene's voice was louder now, laced with panic. "We can't! You don't understand... those things... I... we must take the other quests. So what if it takes longer?"
Lyra and Isabelle turned on her with the eagerness of hawks spotting a wounded rabbit.
"Cyrene, are you out of your mind?" Lyra chirped, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Other quests will take us months! These spider quests are quick."
"Isn't it just some low-level arachnids?" Isabelle added, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "What's the big deal? I've heard they're among the weakest monsters. We can complete these quickly. Unless... you're scared?"
Cyrene looked desperately at Caden. "Please, Caden. I... I have a... aversion to them. Since I was a child."
Caden's face was a mask of heroic disappointment. "Cyrene, if you're afraid of a low-level monster, how can you ever hope to stand against the high-level threats we'll face in the future? A true adventurer faces their fears. You disappoint me."
The words were a physical blow. Cyrene recoiled, her face crumbling. The last vestige of her hope, that Caden would understand, shattered. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Theron saw the yandere fire in her eyes flicker, not with love, but with a burning, toxic mixture of betrayal and humiliation.
The vote was a formality. The quests were accepted.
Later, under the guise of purchasing rations, Theron slipped away to the seedier part of the city. In a dimly lit alley, he found a shifty-looking alchemist who asked no questions. He spent a significant portion of the gold coins Aushima had given him—a fact that amused him, using one future conquest's resources to ensnare another—on a specific, odorless, tasteless powder.
The alchemist described it with a wheezing laugh. "Non-lethal. Slows mana circulation to a crawl for about two days. Tricky stuff, though. Takes a full day to fully enter the bloodstream. Peak effect isn't until the second day. After that, it wears off clean. No traces."
It was perfect.
That evening, back at the rented house, the atmosphere was tense. Cyrene had locked herself in her room. Lyra and Isabelle were preening over their "victory." Caden was polishing his sword, lost in thoughts of glory.
Theron volunteered to prepare the stew for dinner. It was a simple, communal meal. As he stirred the pot, he waited for his moment. When Cyrene finally emerged, drawn by hunger and isolation, he made a show of serving everyone. He made sure to give Caden and the others their bowls first, engaging them in conversation.
When he handed Cyrene her bowl, their fingers brushed. She flinched, but his eyes held hers—not with malice, but with that same cryptic understanding. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
He had already sprinkled the entire packet of mana-restricting powder into her portion while his body blocked the view of the others.
She took the bowl, her guard down, her mind too clouded by misery to be suspicious of the one person who hadn't openly scorned her. She ate in silence, the drug sliding down her throat, a silent serpent entering its garden.
The next day, they began their journey to the village. It was a two-day trek on foot. Cyrene, terrified of the coming confrontation, insisted they hire a carriage to pass the infested woods quickly.
"Come on," Caden said, his tone firm and slightly exasperated. "It's our first chance to camp under the stars! Don't ruin this special experience with a stuffy carriage."
Cyrene's head drooped. She was losing every battle.
That night, around the campfire, Cadin finalized the battle plan. "I'll be on the frontline with Isabelle. Lyra, you'll provide ranged support with your bow. Cyrene, you'll be our artillery. Your fire magic will be key for area damage. Theron, you'll provide support buffs and fill in any gaps."
As he spoke, Theron felt a sudden, sharp clarity in his mind, a final piece of the downloaded information falling into place. Magic in this world required mana, produced by the body's cells. Weak mages needed chants; powerful ones could cast silently. Everyone was born with an affinity for specific elements based on their physique.
His new memories confirmed it. The original Theron's body was famed at the Academy for its talent in support magic—strength buffs, minor healing, stamina boosts. Caden had a weak fire affinity, so he focused on swordsmanship. Isabelle had weak water magic, complementing her shield-bearing style. Lyra used wind to guide her arrows. And Cyrene... Cyrene was the only one with medium-level fire magic, capable of casting the large fireballs needed for their plan.
The plan was simple. They would fight their way to the heart of the cave, corner the spider queen and her brood, and Cyrene would unleash a conflagration, burning them all to ash.
It was a flawless plan. Unless, of course, your primary mage suddenly found herself incapable of casting.
The next afternoon, they arrived at the village, a pathetic cluster of hovels living in the shadow of a dark, yawning cave. The chief was overjoyed at their ambitious plan to eradicate the nest and promised a bonus of 100 gold coins.
As they entered the cave, the air grew cold and damp, smelling of old earth and something faintly acidic. Theron felt a thrill of anticipation. The downfall of the blue-haired beauty was on schedule.
They encountered small, dog-sized spiders along the way, which were easily dispatched. Caden and Isabelle took the front, their weapons flashing. Lyra's arrows found their marks with unnerving accuracy. Cyrene, needing to conserve her mana for the finale, only cast a few minor spells, incinerating the occasional straggler. With each successful cast, a flicker of confidence returned to her eyes. She began to believe she could overcome her fear.
Theron smiled inwardly. 'That's right, little fool. Believe it. Hope. It will make the fall so much more delicious.'
They reached the cavern's depths, a vast chamber webbed with thick, sticky strands. In the center, an enormous, pulsating abdomen—the Spider Queen—rested, an immobile E-tier engine of reproduction. As if on cue, hundreds of smaller spiders, from the size of a hand to the size of a large dog, poured from crevices in the walls and floor, surrounding them.
The battle was joined. It was grueling. Caden and Isabelle traded blows, their light armor cracking under repeated impacts. Lyra's quiver was emptying fast. Theron was everywhere, buffing their strength, casting minor healing spells on their cuts, his mind a cool, calculating machine amidst the chaos. He played his part impeccably.
After what felt like an eternity, they had slaughtered the bulk of the swarm and driven the remaining few dozen, along with the queen, into a tight corner against the cavern wall. Everyone was panting, bleeding, their weapons chipped, their armor in tatters. The quest's difficulty had unknowingly escalated to D-tier.
"This is it!" Caden roared, his face smeared with grime and green spider blood. "Cyrene! Now! Burn them all!"
Cyrene stepped forward, a determined glint in her eye. She began to chant, her voice rising in a powerful arcane rhythm. Caden joined her, adding his own weaker fire affinity to bolster the spell. Lyra and Isabelle watched, eager for the ordeal to be over.
Theron simply watched Cyrene, an evil grin twisting his features, hidden in the shadows.
The chant reached its crescendo. Cyrene thrust her hands forward... and nothing happened.
A flicker of confusion crossed her face. She chanted again, more forcefully. Her hands trembled. Nothing. Not a spark. Not a wisp of smoke.
"Cyrene, this is no time for jokes!" Isabelle cried, her voice strained.
"I'm not joking!" Cyrene panicked, her voice cracking. "Something's wrong! I can't feel my mana! It's... it's gone!"
Lyra's face turned ugly. "Are you taking revenge on us? Our lives are on the line!"
The spiders, sensing the shift, grew excited, their chittering filling the cavern.
Theron knew it was time to drive the final nail into the coffin. He turned to Caden, his face a mask of grim realization.
"Caden... I think... I think she never knew high-level fire spells to begin with," he said, his voice heavy with feigned regret. "She only showed off her weak spells to boast and get on your good side. This is my fault as support. I should have verified her abilities after the repeated warnings from Lyra and Isabelle. We fell for her lies."
The words were a masterpiece of manipulation, weaving truth and lie into a devastating accusation.
Caden's face, already strained, darkened with a profound, bitter disappointment. He looked at Cyrene, not with concern, but with utter contempt.
"I never knew you were so selfish. Just to be on my good side, you lied? You've put all our lives in danger."
The accusations rained down on her. Betrayed by her rivals, scorned by the man she loved, blamed by the one person who had shown her a sliver of kindness. Cyrene felt the world collapse around her. She fell to her knees, the world in her eyes turning to blackest despair.
"Believe me...!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. "There's something wrong with my body! Believe me, Caden! I never lied to you!"
But it was too late. The trap had sprung. The spider monsters, energized, surged forward, and the Dawn Vanguards were plunged into a desperate, bloody battle for survival, their primary weapon rendered useless by the silent, patient poison of the man who stood among them, already planning his next move: the consolation.