The office felt smaller now.
A huge mountain of paper had been stacked on the central table by Beloukas, and he was still bringing out even more—dragging ledgers from hidden shelves, pulling scrolls from compartments Naofumi hadn't even noticed, retrieving bound folders from a safe behind a painting. The amount of it was a nightmare. A bureaucratic horror show of human suffering documented in neat, orderly handwriting.
Naofumi stared at the growing pile. "How much more is there?"
Beloukas dropped another stack onto the table with a heavy thump. "This is every transaction I've recorded. Beast sales, slave sales, miscellaneous merchandise—anything that passed through my operation in the past five years." He paused, catching his breath. "For things like slavery specifically? The amount is actually minimal compared to the rest."
Noritoshi raised an eyebrow. "Minimal?"
"Because most of it is illegal." Beloukas's voice was matter-of-fact. "There's no transcript for slaves sold illegally. No paper trail. Those transactions happen in shadows, with people who value their anonymity." He gestured at the stacks. "What you're seeing here are the legal ones. Criminals sentenced to slavery. Debt slaves with proper documentation. People born into it. That's maybe ten percent of the actual trade."
Myne, who had been quietly observing from her chair, spoke up. "So the real crimes—the kidnappings, the village raids, the children stolen from their families—those aren't recorded at all?"
"Correct." Beloukas met her eyes. "Those transactions happen face to face, cash in hand, no names exchanged. The sellers bring merchandise, I inspect it, we agree on a price, and they leave. I never know their names. They never know mine." He paused. "That's how it's always been done. That's how the system protects itself."
Naofumi's jaw tightened. "Then how do we track them? How do we find out who's behind it?"
Before Noritoshi could respond, a knock came at the door.
Beloukas moved to answer it, but Noritoshi held up a hand. "Let them in."
The door opened to reveal Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel, slightly disheveled but otherwise intact. Behind them, three figures shuffled in—the battle slaves from the circus, looking significantly worse for wear.
"The wounded," Kairn announced, gesturing at the trio. "We got them patched up. Well, Welst did the patching. Rojeel and I just carried them."
Welst inclined his head modestly. "The injuries were significant but not life-threatening. A few healing spells each, some rest, and they'll be functional by morning." He paused. "Physically, at least. Mentally... that's another matter."
Naofumi studied the three slaves.
The woman—Rhea, he remembered—stood with her arms crossed, glaring at everyone in the room with barely contained hostility. Her shoulder and thigh were bandaged where Noritoshi's arrows had struck, but she moved without obvious pain. Tough. Very tough. Just as Noritoshi himself had said.
The magic user—Flatche—looked pale and shaken, leaning heavily against the wall. His eyes kept darting toward Noritoshi with something that might have been fear or might have been respect. Hard to tell.
And the beastman—Bara—simply stood there. Massive. Silent. His chest was a map of bruises from the arrow impacts, but he showed no sign of pain. His eyes, however... there was something in them. Not fear. Not anger. Something else. Assessment, maybe. Or simply exhaustion.
Myne broke the silence first. "So these are the ones who tried to kill Noritoshi?"
"Tried being the operative word," Kairn said dryly.
Rhea's glare intensified. "We were following orders."
"Bad orders," Rojeel rumbled.
"Didn't know that at the time."
Beloukas cleared his throat. "Rhea. Flatche. Bara." He addressed each in turn. "I assume you've been informed of the change in... circumstances?"
Rhea's jaw tightened. "You mean that you're now property of the Shield Hero and we're property of you, which makes us property of the Shield Hero by extension?" She spat on the floor. "Yeah. We heard."
Naofumi blinked. "That's... not exactly—"
"Don't." Rhea cut him off. "Don't try to soften it. Don't give us pretty speeches about how things will be different." Her voice was raw. "We've heard it before. Every new owner promises change. Every new owner lies."
Silence.
Then Noritoshi spoke, his voice quiet but clear. "She's right."
Everyone looked at him.
"Promises are cheap." He met Rhea's eyes steadily. "We're not going to promise you anything except this: things will change. How they change, how fast, how thoroughly—that depends on a lot of factors. But we're not here to maintain the status quo."
Rhea stared at him. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to watch." Noritoshi shrugged. "Believe what you see. That's all anyone can do."
Another silence. Longer this time.
Then Bara spoke—his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor. "The Bow Hero fought us. Held back. Could have killed us. Didn't."
It wasn't a question. Just an observation.
Noritoshi nodded. "You were following orders. Killing you would have been wasteful."
"Wasteful." Bara considered this. "Not merciful. Wasteful."
"Is there a difference?"
The beastman's lips twitched—the barest hint of something that might have been amusement. "No. I suppose not."
Rhea looked between them, her expression complicated. Then she turned to Naofumi.
"You're the one who owns us now?"
"Technically." Naofumi's voice was careful. "But I'm not interested in being an owner. I'm interested in destroying this fucked up system. If you're willing to help with that, great. If not..." He shrugged. "We'll figure something out."
Rhea studied him for a long moment. "You're strange."
"I've been told."
"Strange isn't necessarily bad." She uncrossed her arms, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "We'll watch. Like he said." A nod toward Noritoshi. "And then we'll decide."
Beloukas, who had been observing the exchange with an unreadable expression, finally spoke. "If the introductions are complete, perhaps we could return to the matter at hand?" He gestured at the mountains of paperwork. "Some of us have empires to reorganize."
Kairn snorted. "Some of us have empires to dismantle, you mean."
"Same thing, different application." Beloukas's echo of Noritoshi's earlier words was clearly intentional.
Naofumi shook his head, but there was something almost like warmth in the gesture. "Alright. Let's get to work."
It was complicated.
Naofumi had known, intellectually, that running an organization—even a criminal one—required a certain level of administrative skill. But knowing something intellectually and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things.
Beloukas walked them through the basic structure first: how transactions were recorded, how prices were set, how buyers were vetted (or not vetted, in the case of illegal sales). Then Myne jumped in, explaining the social dynamics—which nobles had standing orders, which merchants acted as middlemen, which regions were considered "safe" for certain types of transactions.
And Noritoshi... Noritoshi approached it like a military operation. Breaking down patterns. Identifying weak points. Asking questions that cut to the heart of how things worked.
Naofumi's head spun.
But there was a problem.
A big one.
"Beloukas," Naofumi said, staring at the open ledger in front of him. The symbols on the page swam before his eyes—familiar in the way that all the writing in this world was familiar, recognizable as language, but utterly meaningless. "I can't read this."
Beloukas blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I can't read it." Naofumi pushed the ledger toward him. "The words. They don't mean anything to me."
Noritoshi looked up from the document he'd been studying—or pretending to study. His expression was carefully neutral, but Naofumi caught the slight tension around his eyes. Same problem, then.
Beloukas stared at them both for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Oh," he said. "Oh, this is delicious."
Kairn frowned. "What's delicious? They can't read. That's not funny."
"It's not that they can't read." Beloukas's smile widened. "It's that they can't read my documents. Which means—" He turned to Naofumi with obvious delight. "The translation magic that allows Heroes to speak and understand our language? It doesn't extend to the written word. You're functionally illiterate here."
Noritoshi's eyebrow twitched. "This is a big problem, so stop cackling already, you creepy bastard. You're enjoying this too much."
"Of course I am." Beloukas spread his hands. "For centuries, my family has dealt in secrets. In information. In the careful control of knowledge. And one of our most valuable tools—" He tapped the ledger. "—is the Blood Seal."
Myne leaned forward. "Blood Seal?"
"A family specialty." Beloukas's voice took on a lecturing tone. "My ancestors, may they rest in pieces, developed a particular form of enchantment centuries ago. Any document created by our bloodline—any record, any contract, any scrap of paper with our ink on it—carries a seal that prevents anyone outside our bloodline from reading it."
Naofumi stared at him. "You're telling me all of this—" He gestured at the mountains of paper. "—is literally unreadable to anyone but you?"
"Correct." Beloukas beamed. "Oh, a skilled enough mage could probably break it eventually. But it would take time, effort, and significant magical power. And they'd have to know it existed in the first place." He touched his top hat. "The beauty of it is subtlety. To anyone else, these just look like normal documents. They'd never know they couldn't read them until they tried."
Noritoshi was quiet for a moment. Then, "That's why you keep everything. Why you're not worried about rivals stealing your records."
"Precisely!" Beloukas practically preened. "Steal all you want. It's just paper without my blood to unlock it."
Naofumi rubbed his temples. "So we're sitting here with thousands of pages of evidence, and we can't access any of it without you."
"Well." Beloukas's smile shifted. "Without me willingly accessing it, yes. You could theoretically force me, but—" He glanced meaningfully at the slaves in the room. "Given recent events, I suspect you're not the forcing type."
Rhea snorted. "He's got you there."
Naofumi exchanged a look with Noritoshi. The Bow Hero's expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he was already working through the implications.
"Alright," Noritoshi said finally. "Then you read. We listen. You interpret."
Beloukas blinked. "That's... remarkably reasonable."
"Was there a problem?"
"No, no." Beloukas recovered quickly. "Just unexpected. Most people in your position would be angry. Frustrated. Demand I break the seal or teach them to read or—"
"We're not most people." Naofumi cut him off. "And we've got bigger problems than your family's paranoia." He pushed a stack of ledgers toward Beloukas. "Start reading. Tell us what matters."
Beloukas looked at the ledgers. Looked at Naofumi. Looked at Noritoshi.
Then, slowly, he laughed.
"You really are different," he said. "Alright. Let's begin."
Hours passed.
Beloukas read. Naofumi and Noritoshi listened. Myne took notes—actual notes, in a language they couldn't read but could at least track through her verbal summaries.
It was slower than doing it themselves would have been. Much slower. But there was an unexpected benefit: Beloukas didn't just read the entries, he interpreted them. Explained the context. Pointed out the gaps and the lies and the things that were implied but not stated.
"This one," he said, tapping a page. "Noble from the northwest provinces. Buys demi-human labor regularly. Always the same specifications—young, healthy, uneducated. Pays premium prices for 'unbroken stock.'"
Noritoshi frowned. "Unbroken?"
"His term, not mine." Beloukas's voice was carefully neutral. "Means they haven't been... adapted yet. Fresh catches. Not run through the system enough to lose their spirit."
Naofumi's hands curled into fists beneath the table. "How many?"
"Average of four a month for the past three years." Beloukas flipped pages. "Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Always young. Always demi-human."
"Where do they come from?"
"That's the interesting part." Beloukas leaned back. "The records don't say. Which means they were illegal acquisitions. Probably from border raids—there are a few regions that have been 'troubled' by monster attacks lately. Conveniently wiping out small demi-human settlements."
Myne's voice was quiet. "You think the attacks are fake?"
"I think monsters don't usually leave survivors to be sold into slavery." Beloukas met her eyes. "But they do leave convenient cover for slavers."
The implication hung in the air.
Then Rhea spoke.
"Northwest provinces." Her voice was tight. "That's Idol Rabiel's territory."
Everyone looked at her.
Beloukas's expression shifted.
"I know him." Rhea's jaw worked. "The noble who buys from that region, the one you just described—that's him. That's exactly his pattern. Everyone in the trade knows it."
Noritoshi leaned forward. "Tell us."
Rhea hesitated. Then, slowly, she began to speak.
"Idol Rabiel. Duke of the Northwest Province. War hero from the last great conflict. Now... now he's something else." She paused. "He collects demi-humans. Specifically children. Specifically from villages that no one will miss."
Rojeel's deep voice rumbled softly and carefully, "How do you know?"
"Because I was almost one of them." Rhea's voice was flat. "Years ago, before I got strong enough to fight back, before I learned to survive—I was on a list. Marked for his estate. The only reason I'm not there now is because the slavers who took me got caught by border patrol before they could deliver."
Silence.
Naofumi felt the rage building again—that familiar, burning fury that had been his constant companion since the start of this whole operation. Every new facts about this industry in this new world fuelled it to become even more intense. But now it had a target. A name.
Idol Rabiel.
"The little girl," he said quietly. "Raphtalia. Is she connected to him somehow?"
Beloukas was already flipping through documents. "Let me check. The recent acquisitions—" He scanned page after page. "Here. Transaction record. Raphtalia, demi-human, raccoon type. Arrived at my operation yesterday evening." He paused. "Direct from the raiders who hit Lurolona."
The room went very still.
Noritoshi's voice, when he spoke, was calm. Terribly, terribly calm. "So she never went through Rabiel?"
"No." Beloukas shook his head. "She's fresh catch. Taken from Lurolona yesterday morning, transported overnight, arrived here just before you and I had our... disagreement." He glanced at the ledger. "No prior owners. No previous transfers. She's been a slave for less than twenty-four hours."
Naofumi blinked. "Wait. Less than a day?"
"Less than a day." Beloukas met his eyes. "The bandages, the flinching—that's from the disaster that had fallen on her village. From losing her home, her family, everything. And from..." He hesitated.
"And from what?"
"The slave crest." Beloukas's voice was gentler than before. "Standard practice to discipline new slaves—especially children—until they learn not to speak without permission. Every time she tried to talk yesterday, the crest would activate. From what I've been hearing, she tried a lot."
Myne's face went pale. "They hurt her for speaking?"
"Until she stopped trying." Beloukas shrugged, but there was something uncomfortable in his expression. "It's efficient. Usually takes a few hours for them to learn. Some learn faster than others."
Noritoshi's voice was cold, betraying no emotional turmoil that he no doubts is currently feeling. "And Raphtalia?"
"She kept trying. Kept talking, kept getting punished." Beloukas paused. "She was still trying when I went to bed last night. This morning, she was quiet."
Pain. Hot. These feelings keep on rising in his chest.
Eight years old. Lost her home, her family, her entire world in a single day. Then dragged away by strangers, locked in a cage, and tortured every time she opened her mouth.
And she'd kept trying. Kept fighting. Kept being a child who didn't understand why she wasn't allowed to speak.
Until this morning.
Now she was quiet.
"A Wave already happened," Myne said suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but there was something dark in it. "Before any of you were summoned."
Naofumi's eyes snapped to her. "What?"
"The First Wave." Myne's hands were clasped tightly in her lap. "I heard about it when I was... when I was still with the Church. They made announcements. Prayers for the victims, gratitude to the nobles who helped with recovery efforts." She paused. "It happened yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Noritoshi's eyes narrowed. "The very same day we were summoned?"
Beloukas nodded slowly. "The timing is important to understand. The Wave struck Lurolona Village in the morning. By afternoon, the survivors were being rounded up by slave hunters. And later in the day—" He gestured vaguely. "—the four of you appeared in that summoning ritual."
"That place is also known as the peace village." Myne said, then continued mournfully. "Lord Seaetto's domain. A place where humans and demi-humans lived together. Famous throughout the kingdom." She paused. "Or it was famous. Now it's rubble."
Bara's voice rumbled more heavily than usual. "I heard of Lord Seaetto. He was popular. Even humans liked him."
"Because he earned it." Rhea's voice was tight. "He actually governed well. His lands prospered. His people—human and demi-human both—were loyal to him. Really loyal, not the kind nobles buy with threats."
Beloukas continued, his voice grim but still carrying his usual cheeriness, as if it's all merely a dark jokes for him. "The Wave hit hard. Killed Lord Seaetto. Destroyed much of the village." He paused. "About a quarter of the population survived—maybe three hundred people, mostly women and children. The men died fighting the Wave."
Myne's voice was small. "Three hundred?"
"That was yesterday morning." Beloukas met her eyes. "By yesterday afternoon, slave hunters were moving through the ruins. They didn't kill anyone—that would waste valuable merchandise. They just... collected. Rounded up everyone they could find and marched them somewhere north."
Noritoshi's voice was sharp. "And no one stopped them?"
"The Crown was distracted." Beloukas shrugged. "There was an emergency summit in Faubley. All the kingdom leaders were there, arguing about who would get to summon the Heroes first. The queen of Melromarc has been there for—" He paused, calculating. "—about a day now. She left right after the Wave hit."
Noritoshi frowned. "And the king? Couldn't he do something? He's still here, isn't he?"
Beloukas's expression shifted—something complicated flickering across his features. "The king... could have intervened. He has the authority."
Naofumi blinked. "Then why didn't he?"
"This is a matriarchal country." Beloukas's voice was carefully neutral. "Or so the official line goes. The royal lineage passes through the female line. The queen rules. The king is supposed to be... secondary." He paused. "That's the theory. That's what they want people to believe."
Noritoshi's eyes narrowed. "But that's not the reality?"
"The reality is more complicated." Beloukas leaned back. "In truth, the king and queen share power equally. When the queen chose him as her consort, she also chose him as her right hand—her partner in ruling, not just in marriage. He has full authority to act in her absence. Military command. Policy decisions. Emergency interventions." He met Noritoshi's gaze steadily. "He could have stopped the raids. He could have sent soldiers to Lurolona. He could have protected those children."
Silence.
Rhea's voice was barely a whisper. "But he didn't."
"No." Beloukas shook his head slowly. "He didn't."
Noritoshi's expression was unreadable, but something dark flickered in his eyes. "Why?"
"According to insiders—palace staff, servants who talk to my network—the king has a deep hatred for demi-humans." Beloukas's voice was flat. "Always has. It's not political with him, it's personal. Visceral. He doesn't see them as people."
Naofumi could feel something cold settle in his chest. "So he just... let it happen?"
"He didn't lift a finger to stop it." Beloukas paused. "Whether that's because he approved, or because he simply didn't care enough to act... does it matter? The result is the same."
Rhea's laugh was bitter and hollow. "The queen spends one day away, and the whole kingdom goes to hell."
"One day was all it took." Beloukas nodded. "The raiders knew exactly when to move. They knew the queen would be at the summit. They knew the king wouldn't interfere." He paused. "Someone planned this. Someone with very good information and very good timing."
Noritoshi was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—but there was no warmth in it. No humor. Just a cold smile betraying nothing.
"So while the queen was away," he said softly, "someone decided to throw a party. And the king—the man with the power to stop it—decided to look the other way."
Silence reigned as the people could feel the visible fury radiating off the two heroes. Or maybe just because of Noritoshi. He couldn't tell. Only two days have passed since the summoning and he's gotten more angry than he's ever been.
Naofumi stared at Beloukas. "And the other survivors? The ones from Lurolona? Where are they now?"
Beloukas shook his head slowly. "That's the problem. Most of them were sold on the go."
"What does that mean?"
"It means they never came through a proper slaver like me." Beloukas spread his hands. "The raiders who took them weren't working for any one operation. They were independent—hired for the job, paid per head, then sent on their way. They sold the merchandise directly to buyers along the road. Quick transactions, no records, no witnesses."
Rhea's voice was bitter. "So they're just... gone."
"Vanished into the system." Beloukas nodded. "Some went to small-time traders. Some went to nobles with private arrangements. Some..." He paused. "Some went to people who'd been waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity."
Noritoshi leaned forward. "Like who?"
"Like Idol Rabiel."
The name landed like a stone in still water.
Beloukas pulled a separate document from his pile—not a ledger, but a handwritten note on cheap paper. "My network picked this up this morning. A message sent from the southeast provinces to one of the raider captains." He read aloud:
"'Priority acquisition. Lurolona stock, children specifically. Pay double standard rate for any under twelve. Delivery direct to northwest estate. Discretion absolute. Payment upon receipt.—I.R.'"
Silence.
Naofumi's hands curled into fists. "He was waiting for them."
"Eagerly." Beloukas set the note down. "Rabiel has a reputation. He collects demi-human children—specifically young ones, specifically from places like Lurolona. The purer the stock, the better, in his mind." He paused. "This message went out before the raiders even finished their work. He knew exactly what was coming and wanted first pick."
"How many did he get?"
"Unknown." Beloukas shook his head. "The note proves intent, but not results. Given his resources and his eagerness, I'd guess he acquired at least a few dozen. Possibly more." He paused. "And given his history, those children are still on his estate. He doesn't sell them quickly. He... collects them. Holds onto them."
His own voice was barely a whisper. "For how long?"
"Months. Sometimes years." Beloukas met his eyes. "Until he's done with them. Then he sells them off and gets new ones."
Myne covered her mouth with her hand.
Noritoshi's expression hadn't changed, but there was something terrible in his eyes. "So Raphtalia is one of the lucky ones. She ended up here instead of with him."
"For now." Beloukas nodded. "But Rabiel's note specified children under twelve. Raphtalia is eight. If he finds out she's here—" He shrugged. "He has the money. He has the influence. He could make an offer I couldn't refuse."
Naofumi's voice was rough. "You'd sell her to him?"
"I'm a slave trader." Beloukas met his gaze steadily. "That's what I do. If a Duke offers enough gold for a child, I sell the child." He paused. "At least, that's what I would have done before tonight. Before you." He gestured at Naofumi, at Noritoshi, at the room full of people who'd just overturned his entire existence. "Now? Now I'm not sure what I am."
Rhea stared at him. "That's almost human of you."
"Don't get used to it."
Naofumi ignored the exchange, his mind fixed on one thing. "The other children. The ones Rabiel already has. How do we find them? How do we get them out?"
Beloukas considered. "We don't. Not yet." He held up a hand as Naofumi started to protest. "We can't. His estate is a fortress. Guards, wards, decades of preparation. If we go in blind, we die. And the children die with us."
"Then we don't go in blind." Noritoshi's voice was calm. "We gather intelligence. We plan. We move when we're ready."
Naofumi forced himself to breathe. "How long?"
Beloukas thought. "A week. That's the earliest I can have preliminary intelligence—layout, guard rotations, basic vulnerabilities. It won't be complete, but it'll be enough to start planning."
"A week."
"Raphtalia has been a slave for one day." Beloukas met his eyes. "The children with Rabiel have been there for less than twenty-four hours too. A week is nothing compared to what they've already survived."
Naofumi wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed at him to move faster, to act now, to do something. But he'd learned—the hard way—that instinct wasn't always right.
"Do it," he said. "One week."
Beloukas nodded slowly. "One week. I'll have what I can by then."
"Before that," Noritoshi's voice cut through the darkness. "What do you know about Rabiel's combat ability? His level? His capabilities?"
Beloukas considered the question. "He's old now. Retired. Hasn't fought in decades. But before that..." He paused. "He's Classed Up."
Blank looks from Naofumi and Noritoshi.
Kairn noticed. "You don't know what that means?"
"Should we?"
Welst stepped forward, clearly in his element. "A Class Up is a ritual performed at a Dragon Hourglass. It's necessary for anyone who isn't a Cardinal Hero to bypass the level forty cap and reach the maximum level of one hundred."
Naofumi blinked. "Level cap?"
"Everyone has one." Welst nodded. "For ordinary people, the natural limit is level forty. You can train, fight, gain experience—but once you hit forty, you stop. You can't advance further without a Class Up."
Kairn picked up the explanation. "You go to a Dragon Hourglass, go through the ritual, and choose a new class path. It's like... evolving, I guess? Your base stats increase significantly. You unlock new skills, specialized abilities. And your level cap raises to one hundred."
Naofumi processed this. "So level forty is... strong?"
"Level forty is considered very strong," Welst confirmed. "Most adventurers never reach it. Those who do and complete a Class Up become some of the most powerful people in the kingdom."
Rojeel grunted. "I'm level thirty. Been grinding for months. It's slow."
"Thirty-three here," Kairn added. "And I've actually killed things. Welst is twenty-four—he spends too much time studying instead of fighting."
Welst sniffed. "Knowledge has its own value."
"Can't kill a monster with knowledge."
"You'd be surprised."
Noritoshi ignored the banter, his focus still on Beloukas. "So Rabiel, in his prime, would have been level forty-plus. Classed Up. Dangerous."
Beloukas shrugged. "His level now is unknown. His combat capability has almost certainly decreased—age catches up with everyone, even the strong. But he was formidable once. And old power has a way of lingering."
Noritoshi glanced at Bara, who had been listening silently. "What level are you?"
Bara met his gaze. "Forty-eight."
Noritoshi's eyebrows rose slightly. "And the others?"
"Forty-six," Rhea said flatly.
"Forty-four," Flatche added quietly.
Naofumi stared at them. "You're all close to Level 50? And Noritoshi took you down?"
Rhea's jaw tightened. "He didn't take us down." Her voice was sharp, defensive. "He stalled us. Confused us. Used tactics and terrain and that weird blood magic to keep us off-balance until he could pick us off one by one." She paused, her hands clenching at her sides. "If we'd fought together, coordinated better, actually tried to kill him instead of just following orders..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
Bara let out a low rumble. "Just accept the reality, Rhea."
She shot him a look. "What reality?"
"The reality that we used everything we had to capture him." Bara's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Every technique. Every trick. Every ounce of strength we've built over years of fighting and Class Ups." He touched his chest—the spot where Noritoshi's arrows had struck. "And yet, we didn't even draw the slightest blood. Aside from the one he spewed out himself, of course."
Rhea was silent.
Bara continued, his tone almost contemplative. "Honestly, I'm a little irritated. I couldn't wipe that smile off his face. Not once. He just kept grinning at us like we were children playing at war."
Rhea's shoulders sagged slightly. "I suppose you're right." Her voice was quieter now. "It's hard to accept. That someone could defeat us so... leisurely. Without putting in any effort." She glanced at Noritoshi. "Smile plastered all over his face while he kicked our asses. My pride kind of got hurt."
Flatche spoke up, his voice hesitant. "Mine too. I've never had my spell just... absorbed like that. Dispersed like it was nothing." He shuddered. "It felt like he wasn't even trying."
Bara grunted. "He wasn't."
The admission hung in the air.
Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel exchanged glances. The implication was clear—if Noritoshi could handle three Class Up fighters approaching Level 50 without breaking a sweat, what did that say about his actual capabilities?
Noritoshi, for his part, didn't comment.
The night wore on.
Beloukas continued reading, pulling out patterns and connections that would have taken Naofumi weeks to find on his own. Myne kept taking notes, her handwriting growing increasingly cramped as the hours passed. Kairn, Welst, and Rojeel had eventually drifted off to sleep in various corners of the office, too exhausted to stay awake.
Rhea, Flatche, and Bara remained alert—watching, listening, absorbing. They'd been given blankets and told to rest, but none of them seemed willing to close their eyes in a room full of strangers.
Naofumi didn't blame them.
It was Bara who spoke first, breaking a long silence.
"The Bow Hero." His deep voice was quiet, contemplative. "You could have killed us."
Noritoshi looked up from where he'd been studying a map Beloukas had produced—a rough sketch of the southeast provinces with Rabiel's estate marked in red ink. "I could have."
"Why didn't you?"
"Several reasons." Noritoshi's voice was matter-of-fact. "You were following orders. You weren't trying to kill me—not really. You were trying to capture me, which meant you were holding back. And killing skilled fighters is wasteful when they could be... repurposed."
Bara considered this. "Repurposed."
"Towards better ends."
"And you think we have better ends?"
Noritoshi met his gaze steadily. "I think everyone has better ends than serving a slave trader who serves worse masters." He paused. "What you do with that is up to you."
Bara was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I'll watch," he said. "Like Rhea said. I'll watch."
Noritoshi nodded and returned to the map.
Naofumi watched the exchange silently. And then after that, his attention returned to his slave. What a hateful word.
"Beloukas," Naofumi said. "That little girl. Raphtalia. Where is she now?"
Beloukas glanced up from his reading. "In the holding cells beneath this building. With the others we... acquired... from the circus." He paused. "She's been given food and water. Basic medical attention. She's as comfortable as she can be, given the circumstances."
Naofumi nodded slowly. "I want to see her. Tomorrow."
"Of course." Beloukas's voice was carefully neutral. "She's your property now, after all."
The word made Naofumi's stomach turn.
"She's not property," he said quietly. "She's a kid. A victim. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure she never has to go through anything like this again."
Beloukas looked at him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
"You really are different," he said again. "I'm starting to think that might not be a bad thing."
Naofumi didn't respond.
He was too busy thinking about an eight-year-old girl in a cage, and the monster who wanted her and so many others like her, and the week he had to prepare before he could do anything about it.
One week.
He'd make it count.