Morning in Levaerûn hit like a slap to the face—noisy, chaotic, and somehow humid despite the dry air. I tightened my robe and kept my head low as I pushed through the growing crowd. Tension clung to the air like static. Whispers and laughter rippled around me like a taunt.
"Tsch, another one? They never learn, do they?"
I heard the voice—mocking, dismissive—but didn't flinch. If I responded to every insult thrown my way, I'd never get anything done. Besides, I had a bigger problem:
I was on my way to challenge the leader of a faction.
Not because of duty. Not vengeance. Just... because I thought it would be cool.
"Good luck to me, I guess?" I thought, wondering if I should've at least written a will.
Cherubim hovered invisibly at my shoulder, offering me a tactical rundown in that annoyingly calm voice.
[Reminder: Common elemental spells consume minimal mana. Using Hesphaetus Protocol at this stage would likely result in unconsciousness. Again.]
"I know, I know…" I muttered, heart thumping in my chest. "But common magic might not cut it."
[Neither might you.]
Gee, thanks, floating snark-ball.
I glanced down at Rafaela's tiny hand clutching mine. I'd tried to leave her behind with Mister Heizou and Lina—tried everything from gentle persuasion to full-blown bribery. But she looked at me with those big, tear-glassy eyes and whispered, "But what if you don't come back?" So here we were.
We stopped in front of a fortress-like building patched together with scrap metal and warped wood. The Fang Faction's headquarters. It looked like it had been built with leftover boss battle assets from five different games.
And standing in front of the massive iron double doors?
Xin.
He smiled when he saw me, arms casually folded, the sun casting a golden glow over his too-handsome face.
"Well, this is a surprise. You're the last person I expected to show up."
I smirked. "Yeah? Me too. Still not convinced this isn't a fever dream."
He laughed softly. "Let me guess—you talked to Heizou?"
"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "Old man's surprisingly chatty."
Xin gave a knowing nod, then crouched in front of Rafaela.
"Leo'll be out in a minute. Mind if I take care of this little one while you get pummeled?"
I looked at Rafaela. She looked back at me.
She trusted him.
So did I, for some reason.
"Okay," I said, gently nudging her forward.
Xin took her hand and led her toward the edge of the crowd that had been steadily growing. Whispers spread like wildfire the moment they realized I was serious. I was actually here to face Leo the Invincible.
Then the doors boomed open.
BANG!
The metal groaned like a dying beast, and a blur leapt from the shadows, landing with a heavy THUD that shook the ground.
Leo.
Jet-black hair spilled over his shoulders. His brown sleeveless tunic clung to his sun-darkened skin, layered beneath a black blazer that billowed as he moved. Sharp fangs glinted in the light as he threw his arms wide and laughed—a low, rich sound that echoed like thunder.
His lion ears twitched as he scanned the crowd—until his gaze locked on me.
And in an instant, the air changed.
He dropped his arms and tilted his head, grinning like a predator. His tail flicked once behind him, casually.
"So you're the bonehead who dared to challenge me?"
"Yep."
[You forgot to say "with Cherubim's reluctant support."]
"Cherubim. Not the time."
Leo's grin widened.
"Did you lose a bet, or are you genuinely suicidal? Not gonna lie, you're definitely the weakest-looking bastard I've seen all week. And I've fought a guy wearing a barrel."
The crowd roared with laughter. I gritted my teeth.
No, Troy. Don't light your hair on fire out of embarrassment again. Stay calm.
"I want peace," I said, voice steady. "Unity. Equality for all races. You know, the usual cheesy idealistic nonsense. And I figured the fastest way to get attention… was to punch the scariest guy in town."
"I respect the guts," Leo said, voice dropping into a growl. "But guts don't win fights."
Then a small voice broke through the tension.
"You can do it, big bro Troy!"
Rafaela.
Her voice rang like a bell through the silence.
Leo looked at her. Then back at me, his expression unreadable.
"So you brought your daughter to watch you die? Bold move."
I smiled.
"Wrong again. I brought her so someone would be here to patch you up after you cry in the dirt."
I yanked off my robe and tossed it aside.
Silence.
Then gasps.
The crowd recoiled in unison, eyes wide, jaws slack.
Leo's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Then he laughed—not mocking this time, but something deeper. Curious. Almost… respectful?
"That outfit…"
He stepped forward, eyes scanning my simple white shirt and balloon-style pants like they were ancient relics.
"I thought your kind were wiped out fifty years ago."
"My what now?"
"You really don't know, huh?" He squinted at me. "That clothing—there are legends about it. The people who wore it were monsters in human skin. Walking calamities."
"Cool," I said. "I got it in a bundle deal from a sketchy store."
Mental note: ask Rudolf what the hell I'm wearing.
Leo cracked his knuckles. "Guess I underestimated you. That's on me. What's your name?"
"Troy Hercules."
He gave a slow nod.
"Leonidas Bartomeu. Leader of the Fang Faction. And now, your opponent."
He slid into a low battle stance, legs braced, eyes glowing with anticipation.
"I won't hold back. Especially not against a relic-wearing wildcard like you."
I felt the mana coil in my core, sluggish but present. My heart pounded like a war drum.
This was happening.
[Battle protocol initialized. I'll monitor your vitals. Try not to die.]
"Great advice."
The crowd's roar hit a new peak as Leo lunged. No warning. No warm-up.
Just a blur of motion and a growled, "Let's go, Troy!"
His fist was already halfway to my face.