Each step was heavy. Dell's ribbon hung from my clenched fist, grasped alongside my claymore like I couldn't let go of either. Around me, the chaos had died. No more weapons clashing. No more spells crackling. No more shouting or explosions.
Just silence.
I held the railing tight for support, looking ahead. Rookies stared at me from every angle—like I'd slain something they once thought invincible. Dell had been a veteran. A name. A threat.
And I'd killed him.
Now they looked at me like I was the next monster.
My mind was as tired as my body. I could barely think. Barely process. Barely stand.
Then the crowd surged.
They rushed toward the deck where I stood—a wave of bodies, weapons raised, eyes hungry. They knew. They'd seen the fight. They knew I had nothing left.
So this is it, I thought. They're not intimidated. They're smart. They know I'm weak right now.
I pushed off the railing and landed hard on the deck. My legs buckled. I caught myself.
Then I looked up.
A familiar figure towered above the crowd.
Tall. Muscular. Imposing. Four arms. Horns curving from her forehead.
Rela.
Her hand shot out. I gathered every last scrap of strength and threw myself backward. Her fist punched through the deck where I'd been standing—wood exploding, splinters flying.
Her aura was different from Dell's. Dell had felt like a mountain. Rela felt like a range of them. Crushing. Infinite.
This is supposed to be a rookie exam. Why am I fighting threats like this?!
She moved faster than Dell. Much faster. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, two battle axes raised in unison.
I raised my claymore. It felt like lifting a ship.
Our weapons collided.
The force was unimaginable. Two axes against my one blade—and I was already empty. Her other hands grabbed my hair and yanked me toward her. My feet left the deck. My body flew.
Then she slammed me into the floor.
Wood exploded around me. Splinters buried themselves in my skin—dozens of them, maybe hundreds. The pain was unbearable. My vision swam. My mind spun.
I couldn't move.
Rela looked down at me. I couldn't see her expression—just her silhouette, blocking out the sun. Her height was impossible. Imposing.
I wasn't fighting a monster.
I was fighting a demon.
Could Draka even beat her?
She grabbed me again—lifted me like a child, brought me to eye level. For the first time, I saw her face clearly.
Elegant. Yellow eyes. A red tattoo beneath her left eye. A single silver earring on her right. Short white hair, cut in a bob, framing it all.
What is she going to do to me?
I couldn't think. Couldn't process. My body was done. My eyes were heavy. My mind—blank.
Then she spoke.
"Hey! It's you! Mithril man!"
I blinked.
Her expression shifted. Concern creased her features. One of her hands—gentle now—reached up and carefully removed a splinter from my cheek.
Does she... remember me?
"I'm so sorry for trying to kill you!" She pulled me close, pressing my head against her chest. Embracing me. "I forgot your face!"
All four arms wrapped around me. Holding me. Not killing.
She remembers.
She's not going to kill me.
She's protecting me.
"I... thank you." My voice dragged. Barely a whisper.
"It's okay." Her voice was soft now—a complete contrast to the terror she'd been moments ago. "I'm here. I'll defend you."
For the first time since Dell's hand grabbed my head...
I felt safe.
---
Five adventurers surrounded us.
Too many. I couldn't fight. Couldn't even stand. Every limb had given out.
So this was it. This feeling. I knew it well.
Back on Earth. High school. College. The workplace.
Useless.
For the first time since waking in that forest—since Draka's training, since Kora—I was useless again. I'd mattered here. I'd been someone. I'd had power.
Now look at me.
A broken thing being held by a stranger.
Rela glanced back at me, axes and knuckles spread wide in a defensive stance.
"Can you stand?"
I gripped my claymore like an old man with a cane. "I can't."
Her other arm reached for my chest plate and pulled me onto her back. She used her own ribbon to tie me in place—tight enough to hold, loose enough to breathe.
"Now you move." She smiled brightly, sharp teeth gleaming.
The words hit something in my chest. Warm. Unexpected.
I'd only met her a few hours ago. And she was already carrying me. Protecting me.
It was unusual.
It was reassuring.
"Thanks." I slid my claymore onto my back strap.
She walked toward the five adventurers—slowly, deliberately, confidence radiating from every step. Her stance lowered. Her gray aura intensified, surging from her body like smoke from a wildfire.
Stronger than mine. Denser than mine. Terrifying.
She sang playfully as she advanced.
"Five adventurers ganging up on an ogress..."
She pointed at the first—a mage in a coat, looking nervous. "One's a mage—holding his wand wrong."
A man in a vest, leather gauntlets crackling with Lumin. "One's a fighter in a shark stance."
A warrior in full steel. "The next is a warrior in full plate."
A short figure with a crossbow. "The short stack's a ranger with a crossbow."
Finally, she pointed at the woman in the center—caramel skin, steel armor, a cutlass-like blade in her hand.
"And their ringleader." Rela's voice dropped. "You bastard."
The woman held her stance, but her confidence wavered. "You think you can take us?! It's three on one, and you're carrying a wounded man every adventurer here wants dead!"
Rela's arms spread wide—axes gleaming, knuckles gleaming, aura blazing.
"All of you!" Her voice boomed across the deck. "All of you are BASTARDS! So weak you need an injured lion to feel brave! And you call yourselves future adventurers?!"
Silence.
The entire ship froze.
She laughed—a cold, sharp sound.
"Where I'm from?" She cracked her neck, yellow eyes burning. "Where I'm from, you're not lions. You're rats. Even a badger fights better than you."
She raised her axes.
"SO THEN!"
Her grin widened—sharp teeth, wild eyes, absolute confidence.
"WHO'S READY TO MEET THEIR GODS?!"