"Why are you here?"
The three blurted out the question simultaneously.
"It seems you do know each other." Arthur thought for a moment, suddenly realizing. "No wonder the names Lant and Moya sounded familiar on the transport list—you were Rick's companions."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Lant bowed respectfully, his gaze repeatedly sweeping over Rick.
As a seasoned warrior, Lant keenly sensed Rick's strength. If Moya hadn't recognized Rick first, he could hardly believe this man—exuding a beastly aura—was the same naive Rick he'd known.
Beyond the dramatic change in demeanor, Rick's physique and lean, chiseled features confused Lant. Rick had once had baby fat, looking boyish; though strong, his past build paled compared to the wild, defined lines now visible through his clothes.
"So powerful... I might not be his match now..."
Reluctant to admit it, Lant couldn't deny the oppressive aura—Rick had far surpassed him, as evidenced by the goosebumps and tautness in his body.
Moya beside him wore an even more shocked expression. He couldn't fathom how Rick, a pariah-born youth, had befriended the legendary Emperor Arthur—and their rapport was clearly intimate.
"H-how is this possible..."
"Moya, it's really you! I never expected to see you here!" Rick, oblivious to Moya's unease, rushed forward to embrace him.
"Hiss!" Moya sucked in a breath of pain.
Accustomed to 15x gravity, Rick misjudged his strength. The bear hug squeezed Moya painfully, reopening the wound on his shoulder.
"Eh? What's wrong..."
Noticing the issue, Rick released Moya and tore open his coat collar. The shoulder bandage was drenched in blood.
"Injured? How did this happen? Who did this!" Rick barked, roaring like a beast.
"Zarok remnants attacked us during the egg transport. Moya was wounded then—he'd have died if not for his quick wits," Lant explained.
"Zarok remnants?"
"Hmph, those persistent fools. If we weren't swamped with reconstruction, I'd deal with them immediately," Arthur snapped angrily. He turned to Gria. "Draft a decree: nationwide wanted orders for Houses Zarok and Ferdinand."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
As Gria began drafting, Arthur told the waiting attendant: "Summon the royal physician. Our hero needs treatment."
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty..." Moya paled, gritting his teeth to thank them. But moments later, the pain overwhelmed his weakened body—his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious before everyone.
"Moya! Moya!" Rick panicked, scooping up the unconscious Moya and dashing out. "Doctor! Doctor! Somebody get a doctor!"
In Palais Saint-Rosel's infirmary, Moya lay on a white bed, new bandages covering his re-treated wound. Staring at the ceiling, he couldn't fathom meeting Rick here—nor bear that Rick had surpassed him in both strength and status, their gap widening until he could barely see Rick's shadow.
"No... I refuse to accept this..." Moya clenched his fists in pain, curling up on the bed and trembling.
Just then, the infirmary door opened, and Lant entered holding a brocade box, sitting beside Moya's bed.
"I convinced him to leave, but he seemed worried. Why don't you want to see him? Does what happened still bother you?"
"N-no..."
"Then why?"
"I don't want him to see me weak." Moya poked his head from the blankets, propping himself up.
"Weird idea." Lant chuckled, opening the box to reveal a golden shoulder insignia and medal.
"What's this?" Moya asked curiously.
"The Emperor awarded me just now." Lant held up the medal embossed with a shield. "This is the Tanzan Honor Medal, and the insignia is my rank in the New Tanzan army—I'll lead the 300-man Wolf Cavalry Battalion."
Seeing Lant's high spirits, Moya's face dimmed.
"I'm the only useless one... can't keep up with anyone..."
Moya smiled bitterly inwardly, gripping Lant's shoulder to stand. "Boss Lant, let's go back to the barracks."
"Why not rest more? This is the palace—you'll get the best care." Lant looked at him in surprise.
Moya bit his lip, ugly-faced. "No, I don't belong here..."
Reading Moya's expression, Lant patted his shoulder in comfort. "Alright, let's go."
They helped each other out, leaving Palais Saint-Rosel without notifying the physician.
It was late night. Ison's empty streets lacked pedestrians; the once-bustling market now looked desolate under dim streetlights.
Alone, they walked on the leaf-strewn avenue, their shadows stretched by lamplight until swallowed by inky darkness...
By the time they found the barracks using the appointment map, it was near dawn.
The barracks, north of Ison, were still under construction. New arrivals stayed in temporary quarters beside it, training as the camp rose.
Compared to the palace, the barracks—heaped with sand, cement, and wooden frames—resembled a chaotic construction site, conditions abysmal.
Exhausted from the journey, Lant tossed off his coat and fell asleep after registering with a bleary-eyed clerk. Soon, thunderous snores filled the tent.
Moya, however, tossed and turned restlessly. Too many worries had assailed him, making peace impossible.
Unable to bear the agitation, he left the tent, staggered across the empty site, and sat by a quiet grove beside the barracks. Head on his knees, he endured the harsh night.
"Why... why are they all forging their paths, while I achieve nothing..."
"Am I... born useless?"
Moya felt wronged to tears, realizing his own weakness. He lacked Rick's willpower, Lant's perseverance, Shust's talent—even Anna and Love outshone him.
"Turns out I've been lying to myself all along. I have no hope of being strong—I'm just a nobody with nothing," Moya sighed deeply, lifting his head to watch the moon gradually obscured by dark clouds.
Just as his despair peaked and he rose to return to the tent, he suddenly remembered something and reached into his pocket.
There should be the strange egg he'd found in Hell's Corridor, but the stone casing was gone. Pulling out the pocket, he retrieved a black pearl-like egg and an unexpected handful of red gravel.
"Eh? The stone's gone..." Moya blinked, feeling the egg—now soft, no longer as hard as before.
"What! This egg is still alive?!" The discovery left him gaping. Normally, eggs died from dehydration without special preservation, yet this one, sealed in stone and carelessly pocketed for days, remained pliable.
The realization hit—he might have found a treasure. Glancing at the sky, he saw the cloud covering the moon had passed, casting pale yellow light over the earth.
Eager to investigate, he struggled up a small hill in the grove, intending to examine the egg in the moonlight. A live egg should reveal its embryo through light.
But perhaps due to his injury or haste, Moya slipped halfway up the hill. With a cry, he rolled down the slope into the grove's basin.
"Dam... damn... so unlucky..."
Moya grimaced in pain, his shoulder wound reopening. Pressing a hand to it, he found it slick with blood.
"Oh right, the egg! My egg!"
Remembering the mysterious egg, he forgot the pain and frantically searched the fallen leaves. Soon, he found the black egg lying nearby. As he picked it up, the egg suddenly began sucking blood from his hand, draining the wound dry in seconds.
"A... a blood-sucking egg..." Moya's eyes widened, every hair on his neck standing on end.
Crack.
The black pearl-like egg split open. To Moya's horror, a jellyfish-shaped, half-palm-sized soft-bodied insect crawled from the shell.
"W-what is this..."
Moya leaned closer, but the moment his eyes met the insect's grain-sized pupils, his body went rigid as if anesthetized, unable to move.
"W-why... what's happening..."
Terror filled his eyes as the newly hatched creature crawled toward his face. Its thin antennae touched his slightly open mouth, then it skillfully burrowed inside.
Moya's eyes bulged, his expression contorting in agony. He thrashed wildly, enduring inhuman pain, but no sound escaped his throat.
The sky darkened as clouds reclaimed the moon, plunging the earth into shadow. The struggles from the valley floor faded, as if nothing had ever happened...