Ratatoskr Settlement.One of the human enclaves on the continent's northwest frontier, near the edge of the Great Hole. Calling it a "town" would be generous—this was a sprawling refugee camp ringed by a palisade of massive timber. In an era before the gods descended, before blessings and status screens became the norm, humanity survived like insects—clinging to life in the cracks between monsters.
"Man… no matter how many times I see it, the architecture of this era really is… yeah—wild," Emiya Shirou muttered at the gate, eyeing the crooked huts and ragged passersby. Compared to the neatly planned, glittering Orario of thousands of years later, this place looked like the aftermath of a disaster.
"That's called historical gravitas, got it? You have no romance in your soul, Shirou-bro!"Argo, on the other hand, was practically glowing. He strutted inside with his lightning-imbued wooden sword—Lil' Flash—stuck at his waist, chin lifted like a king inspecting his troops.
"People of Ratatoskr! Hear me!" Argo planted himself in the middle of the street, spread his arms, and projected his voice from the diaphragm like he'd been trained by professional con artists. "Standing before you is the man destined to rescue a princess, slay a demon king, and be written into every textbook in the future—the great hero Argo! And beside me, my deputy—Red Flash Emiya Shirou! We require a modest 'sponsorship'—food and water. In return, we shall grant you—"
Thunk.
A rotten apple hit him square in the face.
"Get lost, you beggar!" someone snapped. "Don't block the road! People are trying to stay alive. Who's the lunatic dressed like a clown?"
The villagers threw him the kind of look reserved for street trash and hurried past. In a world where tomorrow and disaster competed for first place, no one had time for a loud idiot selling dreams.
Argo froze with his arms still spread, apple mush sliding down his nose.
The silence was exquisite.
Shirou failed to hold it in.
"Pfft."
"Looks like your 'hero aura' hasn't finished downloading yet, Great Hero."
"Sh-shut up!" Argo wiped his face and forced dignity back into place through sheer shamelessness. "This is a trial! Cold neglect is a mandatory step on the road to fame! Come on—let's go to the tavern! That's where information and companions gather! It's an unbreakable law of adventure stories!"
"You sure you still have money?" Shirou asked, weighing the pouch of ancient coins—Zard's stash—now alarmingly light. "This is our last travel fund."
"Relax! Everything works out in the end!" Argo puffed up. "Worst case… we pawn your cooking skills!"
"Don't casually pawn me, thanks!"
Ratatoskr's only tavern, The Broken Horn, was worse inside than out. The air was a rancid cocktail of sour ale, sweat, and something that could only be described as "mold with ambition." Burly men drank standing on tables, and in the corners people solved disagreements with fists.
Shirou switched on Mind's Eye (True) and swept the room. Most were ordinary humans, but a handful had slightly stronger mana signatures. The most eye-catching presence, though, sat at the biggest table in the center:
A woman—more accurately, a girl who radiated the kind of danger that made "girl" feel like a bad joke.
Tanned skin. Minimal fur-bikini clothing. A physique that could be described as criminally lethal. Wild brown hair curled at the ends. Youthful face, but her aura was pure predator—like a lioness wearing human skin.
Ona. An Amazon foremother—an early prototype of what would someday become the Amazon lineage that produced Tiona and Tione. If those sisters were fire, Ona was the version that punched first and asked questions never.
Right now, she was glaring at the meal in front of her: a platter of… charred lizard meat, cooked so badly the outside was black and the inside still bled.
"Again with this pig slop…" Ona poked the meat with her dagger, expression sour. "Is there nothing in this world that makes you feel like being alive is worth it? This era sucks."
She sighed and lifted a piece toward her mouth anyway—because surviving came first.
"Wait."
A hand caught her wrist.
Ona's eyes sharpened like drawn steel. She snapped a counterattack—dagger thrusting with Amazon explosiveness.
Clang.
A black short blade blocked it.
Emiya Shirou stood by the table, smiling at her like she wasn't a walking natural disaster. "Miss, if you value your stomach… I'd strongly recommend not consuming that biological weapon. It'll ruin your intestines."
"Huh?" Ona blinked, then licked her lips, her gaze turning predatory. "You've got some skill, redhead." She withdrew her dagger slowly, savoring the moment. "But if I don't eat this, what do I eat? You?"
Shirou sighed. "Please don't say terrifying things so casually."
He turned to the barkeep. "Boss. Let me use your kitchen. Charge the fee to her meal."
The barkeep—an irritable one-eyed man—waved him off. "Who the hell are you? Get lost."
Shirou slapped a Zeus coin onto the counter.
"Please, use it."
The barkeep's soul underwent immediate salvation.
"YES SIR! The seasonings are in the left cabinet! If the fire isn't hot enough I'll add wood!"
Truly—some laws of civilization transcended time.
Fifteen minutes later, a dominating aroma rolled out of the back like a conquering army.
Fights stopped mid-swing. Drinks froze halfway to mouths. Every nose in the tavern betrayed its owner and turned toward the kitchen.
"Wh-what is that smell…?""So good…""Is that… 'divine cooking'?"
Shirou emerged carrying a huge wooden tray.
On it: Emiya-Style Spicy Stir-Fried Lizard Meat Rice Bowl—properly handled, marinated with makeshift spices, flash-fried over high heat. The ingredient was still low-grade monster meat, but with Reinforcement applied to the fibers, it had undergone a miraculous evolution from "trash" to "feast."
He set it in front of Ona. "For you. I removed the poison glands and the stench. Used fruit wine to lift the flavor. Try it."
Ona stared, throat working.
No words. She grabbed a spoon, scooped a mountain, and ate.
Her pupils snapped tight.
Somewhere, reality added explosive special effects.
This wasn't meat. This was flame dancing on the tongue—a hymn to life itself.
"—SO GOOD!!!"
Ona roared so loudly the floorboards cracked under her foot. "WHAT IS THIS?! WHY DOES THIS TASTE LIKE THIS?!"
She began devouring at a speed that left only afterimages. In under a minute, the portion meant for three adults was annihilated—then she licked the tray clean.
She exhaled as if ascending. Then she turned slowly toward Shirou and stared like she'd found the world's greatest treasure.
"Hey, redhead." Ona stood, grabbed Shirou by the collar, and yanked him close. "Name."
"Emiya Shirou."
"Good, Shirou." She declared it like a conquest. "From today onward, you're my personal chef. In exchange, if anyone messes with you, I'll twist their head off and kick it like a ball. Fair trade, yeah?"
Shirou's mouth twitched. Is this… being kept?
But honestly, this was exactly what he'd intended. In this era, surviving with only himself and Argo—the professional loudmouth—wasn't realistic. They needed a strong teammate. And Amazons were the best kind of frontline you could buy with food.
"I'm not becoming anyone's personal chef," Shirou said, prying her hand off and straightening his collar. "But… if you join our 'Hero Company,' I'll feed you every day."
"Hero Company?" Ona raised an eyebrow—and glanced at Argo, currently behind Shirou trying to scrape leftover meat flavor from the tray like a starving raccoon. "You mean this monkey-looking clown?"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MONKEY?!" Argo sprang out, visibly trembling under Ona's aura but forcing bravado anyway. "I'm a man destined for heroism! Beautiful, powerful lady—don't you want your name in the epic of the future? Amazon Valkyrie—Ona! That sounds incredible!"
"Valkyrie…" Ona rubbed her chin. She clearly liked the title. Then she looked back at Shirou. "If I join… I get to eat like that every day?"
"Yes," Shirou said instantly. "Breakfast, lunch, dinner… and midnight snacks."
"Deal." Ona slammed her palm on the table and laughed, loud and fearless. "I was sick of this dump anyway. If there's good food, I'll go anywhere. From today, I'm your bodyguard."
Argo clenched a fist, nearly crying with joy. "Second member! And she's insanely strong! Shirou-bro, your food diplomacy is unstoppable!"
And just like that, with equal parts money and appetite, the future "Hero Company" gained its first heavy hitter.
But the team wasn't finished assembling.
A warrior was great. A cook-smith was absurdly valuable. What else did they need?
Equipment.
With Ona leading, the three headed to a smithy on the settlement's edge. They hadn't even stepped inside when furious hammering and cursing burst out.
"Damn it—again! It shattered again! WHY?! Why can't ordinary iron hold mana?! This garbage… this garbage isn't the 'magic sword' I want!"
A glowing-hot sword blank was hurled out and embedded itself near Argo's feet, making him do a panicked tap dance.
"Temper's hot," Shirou said, picking up the discarded blank and inspecting it. The craftsmanship was excellent—master-level, even. But the material was awful, and the smith's mind was too desperate. The timing of mana infusion was wrong.
"Let's go in."
Shirou pushed the door open.
Inside was a furnace of heat. A lean young man with red hair worked shirtless at the forge, eyes blazing with obsession. He looked like he intended to smelt the entire world down into a single blade.
Crozzo. The progenitor of the future Magic Sword Smith bloodline. Welf Crozzo's ancestor.
Right now, he was simply a mad smith drowning in self-doubt.
"Here to buy a sword?" Crozzo snarled without looking up. "Get out. I'm not selling junk today."
"We're not here to buy," Shirou said, walking to the anvil and placing the discarded blank down. "We're here to teach you how to forge."
Crozzo whirled, eyes burning. "What did you just say? Teach me? You—skinny pretty-boy who probably can't lift a hammer—teach me?"
"Don't judge by looks."
Shirou lifted a hammer.
His grip. His stance. His breathing rhythm.
Crozzo's expression changed.
Those were the movements of an insider.
"Watch."
Shirou set an ingot into the fire.
"Trace—On."
His circuits moved. No divine "God-Smith" skill here—just experience carved into his bones and absolute understanding of structure.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The hammering had rhythm. Every strike landed precisely on the node where mana wanted to flow. The metal changed; impurities fled. More importantly—Shirou guided a thread of his mana into the metal's internal lattice, not forcing it, but inviting it.
"Magic swords aren't made by brute-forcing mana into steel," Shirou said as he worked. "You guide it. You make the metal want mana. Listen to it."
Ten minutes later, a short blade lay on the anvil, glowing faintly red. Low-grade, yes—but stable. Smooth mana flow. No signs of collapse.
"This… this is…" Crozzo reached out with shaking hands and touched it. "Perfect integration… the realm I've chased…"
He jerked his head up, staring at Shirou like he'd found a god—or a monster. "Who are you?"
"Emiya Shirou. A passing smith."
Shirou set the hammer down. "Your talent is high. Higher than mine, in certain ways. But you're impatient."
He leaned closer, voice calm, deadly persuasive.
"Want to join us? See the world. Find true top-tier materials. Dragon Valley bone. Abyssal orichalcum. Fallen star fragments."
"Only after you've seen those… can you forge the supreme blade you're dreaming of."
"Dragon bone… orichalcum…" Crozzo's breathing quickened. For a smith, that was stronger than wine, stronger than lust.
"I'm in!" Crozzo shouted. "Master—take me as your disciple! I'll do anything if it means I can forge a true magic sword!"
"Don't call me Master. Call me Shirou," Shirou said, smiling. "Good. Our equipment logistics just came online."
Leader: Argo (mascot / morale unit / "tanks with confidence")
Deputy Leader: Emiya Shirou (cook / smith / tactician / actual carry)
Vanguard: Ona (berserker / bottomless stomach)
Support: Crozzo (magic sword smith / technical obsessive)
A bizarre lineup—yet somehow functional.
"So! Since we're all here!" Argo stood outside the smithy, chest out, ready to narrate his own legend. "What's our first objective? Save the imprisoned princess?"
"Not yet." Shirou unfolded a map and tapped a red mark. "Before that, we handle a problem."
"Problem?" Ona frowned. "Monsters?"
"No. Worse." Shirou's eyes chilled. "Humans. And in this era… humans with power."
BOOOOM.
A massive explosion thundered from the gate. Alarms erupted.
"Enemy raid! Enemy raid! It's the Black King's army!"
"Black King?" Argo's face went pale. "That tyrant who rules this region? Why is he here?!"
Shirou remembered the soldiers who'd been tailing them.
"…Probably for me."
"Move," Shirou said, drawing Kanshou and Bakuya. "This will be our debut battle as a hero company."
Ona grinned, lifting her new weapon—a massive axe Shirou had just reinforced. "Finally. Time to make a mess."
Crozzo slung a bundle of prototype magic swords over his shoulder. "Perfect—let's test them."
Only Argo looked miserable. "Do I have to go? Can I stay behind and guard the camp?"
"No," the other three said in unison.
Hundreds of black-armored knights had already broken through the defenses. At their head was a man on a black warhorse, spear in hand.
Eld (the Black King).One of the region's dominant powers, wielding an ability tied to shadows—whether an early form of magic or something older.
"Hand over the red-haired boy," Eld said coldly, voice like it crawled out of a grave. "Or…"
He lifted his spear slightly.
"…I raze the settlement."
A voice called down from a rooftop—brazen, reckless.
Eld looked up.
Four figures stood in a line against the sunset:
A red-clad clown. A wild Amazon. A gloomy smith. And… the red-haired boy.
"Want our man?" Argo shouted, shaking like a leaf but posing like a statue. "Have you asked the Argonaut Hero Company first?!"
"Engage," Shirou said.
"Trace—Project!"
Sword shadows rained down.
Ona roared and leapt into the enemy formation, axe sweeping like a storm. Crozzo ignited magic swords, flames devouring ranks of knights. Argo sprinted around yelling "Behold my lightning wooden sword!"—not very lethal, but remarkably effective at drawing attention.
A brawl across eras erupted.
And it was only the beginning of this strange company's conquest.
In the age before gods, before blessings, before heroes were polished into legends—
The first sparks of an epic were finally catching fire.
....
My Patreon : patreon/RuneA
If you want to read the novel in advance, you can subscribe for early access. I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in
I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length. If you're following a particular series, please wait your turn a little
If there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patron, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on it