Satoru appeared inside the room accompanied by Hans.
There was no sound, no visible transition. One moment the space was empty; the next, he was already there. Liza reacted instantly, tightening her grip on the spear by reflex—only then did she realize that the tension in her shoulders eased on its own. Tama and Pochi, despite their exhaustion, were still awake, alert ever since the hero's visit.
Hans's clone emerged from the shadows without haste.
"No one else has tried to enter," he reported. "Only the hero. No soldiers nearby, no unusual movement around the inn."
Satoru nodded once.
The information was minimal. Direct. Exactly what he had received before coming back. It offered no context or motive, but it confirmed something important: this was not an immediate maneuver, nor open pressure. At least, not yet.
He scanned the room calmly, evaluating without urgency. Liza held her stance with controlled firmness; the girls lifted their heads slightly when he approached.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes, master," Liza replied without hesitation.
"Tama is fine."
"Pochi too."
With that confirmed, Satoru turned toward the door.
It had happened again.
A hero had come for him.
Satoru slid his hand to the door.
It wasn't the first time.
First, there had been her.
The woman with the burning sword. A presence that had confronted him without hesitation, without unnecessary words or attempts at dialogue. She had gone straight for the fight, with an absolute determination that left no room to interpret intentions. Every movement had been precise, honed by real experience.
Brutal. Direct. Unrelenting.
And yet, clear.
It wasn't a memory that stirred rejection in him, nor resentment. That confrontation had left him something far more useful than emotion: corrections, adjustments. A more honest understanding of his own limits and the true weight a genuine expert could bring to the battlefield.
If he were to see her again, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her once more.
But it wasn't an image that lingered.
She had been pure edge. Nothing more.
Hayato, on the other hand—
Satoru pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.
Hayato Masaki was still there, leaning against the wall as if waiting outside someone else's room at this hour were the most normal thing in the world. His blue armor reflected the dim light without losing its shine, and his relaxed posture clashed completely with the silence of the inn.
When he saw Satoru, he straightened up abruptly.
"Damn!" he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "You're way taller than I expected. And really handsome too… it kind of annoys me."
Satoru observed him in silence.
He didn't reply.
He didn't sigh.
He didn't ask what he had just heard.
He let the moment run its course on its own.
Hayato, meanwhile, seemed fascinated. He took two steps around him, tilting his head like someone examining a newly discovered statue.
"No, seriously… how can you have that face and that body? Is it natural? Or did you use magic? Or—?"
"Why are you here?" Satoru interrupted, his tone unchanged.
Hayato blinked.
"Oh. Right. That." He slapped his fist into his palm as if he had just remembered he had a mission. "Well, first things first. I'm Hayato. Hayato Masaki. Hero of the Saga Empire and—"
"I know."
Hayato opened his mouth—
And closed it.
"Ah… well. Yeah. I guess I should've expected that, I am famous." He shrugged. "Still, it was a good introduction."
Satoru didn't comment.
Hayato inhaled deeply, as if preparing a heroic declaration, but ended up speaking like he was sharing gossip.
"I came to meet you."
"I know," Satoru replied again.
Hayato leaned forward, wearing an offended yet amused expression.
"Hey! It's not as fun if you skip all my lines. At least let me feel like I'm carrying the conversation."
Satoru neither contradicted him nor encouraged him. He simply waited.
That seemed to be enough for Hayato to continue.
"Well…" Hayato went on, scratching the back of his neck. "They called me because they think you might be a Demon King."
He said it without drama, almost lightly, as if he were talking about the weather or an awkward rumor he didn't quite know how to approach.
"But I also heard other things," he added. "That you helped some people. Quite a few, actually. And that you didn't do anything strange in any of the cities you visited before getting here."
He shrugged.
"So I didn't know whether to believe you were a monster, a good guy… or a good-but-monstrous guy, I guess."
Satoru watched him without blinking.
Hayato immediately raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"That's why I came." He smiled, without a trace of arrogance. "I figured that before sticking my sword where it doesn't belong, the least I could do was see you with my own eyes."
He paused briefly, the silence more awkward than solemn.
"If you turn out to be a Demon King, I want to be sure before fighting you and if you're not…" he scratched his head. "I don't want to kill you by mistake. That'd make me feel pretty uncomfortable."
It didn't sound like a threat, nor like heroic justification.
It sounded honest.
"Besides," he added with a crooked smile, "I was curious. Really curious. Even though whenever I follow my curiosity I usually end up in trouble, but… you know how it is, right?"
Satoru breathed calmly.
It wasn't exasperation.
Nor approval.
Just acknowledgment.
That man was exactly what he appeared to be.
Honest.
Transparent.
And far too direct for his own good.
Hayato smiled again.
"So, yeah. That's it. What about you? What do you think of me so far?"
"You're loud."
Satoru's answer didn't take even a second.
Hayato burst into laughter that echoed through the entire hallway.
"I get that a lot!" he added with absurd pride, as if it were a personal achievement.
Satoru didn't comment—but the contrast between expectation and reality was evident even to him.
This interaction was nothing like what he had imagined. There was no immediate tension, no active distrust, no concealed murderous intent. The man before him radiated power, yes, but not hostility. And his way of speaking—disordered, impulsive, almost childish—made it difficult to associate him with any elaborate scheme.
Satoru averted his gaze for a moment. Not out of discomfort, but to organize his own thoughts.
They had sent him to "confront a possible Demon King."
Why?
The most likely answer wasn't complicated.
Sedoma had witnessed nothing. Neither had Noukii.
The only city where his power had been exposed—albeit partially and not by his own will—had been Seiryuu.
The magical residue.
The sacred wounds.
The marks on the land.
The lingering energy.
Before, without a clear understanding of the divine, he wouldn't have stopped to think about it. But now he understood it well: the aura of a sacred sword didn't disappear completely. Its clash against his body and the environment must have left unmistakable traces. For anyone with religious training or sensitivity to sacred power, that would have been enough to conclude that a hero had been involved in that fight.
And in this world, if someone defeated—or even simply survived—a hero…
There was only one conclusion they could reach.
Demon King.
There was another factor as well.
The woman with the sword.
That religious or military leaders knew of her existence was no surprise. Her power was unmistakable. But that she would have deliberately left warnings about him seemed unlikely. She had been direct, aggressive, transparent in her hostility. She wasn't someone who hinted or sowed doubt. If she had wanted to mark him as an enemy of the world, she would have done so without restraint. And if she had wanted to warn others, she wouldn't have softened anything.
Still, it couldn't be ruled out entirely.
Satoru looked back at Hayato.
Everything he had so far came from what Hayato had chosen to tell him. There was no way to know how much of it was incomplete, how much had been filtered by others… or how much had been omitted without malice, simply because it hadn't seemed relevant.
Hayato seemed honest. Too much so.
But honesty didn't always imply precision.
There still wasn't enough data to fix anything as definitive.
Hayato raised an eyebrow when he noticed how long Satoru had stayed silent.
"Hey, are you thinking something really serious? You've got that look." He made a small circular gesture with his finger. "Well… although in your case it's hard to tell, with how stoic your face is."
Satoru didn't answer immediately.
He held his gaze for one more second, evaluating him.
A sincere idiot, yes…
But not a dangerous one.
And at least now, he understood where the suspicions came from.
And why this man had been sent first.
Hayato let out a low chuckle, satisfied with his own comment—but when he didn't even get a raised eyebrow from Satoru, he exhaled with exaggerated drama.
"Man…" he muttered. "Talking to you is like talking to a walking corpse."
Satoru didn't react. Not a muscle.
Hayato stared at him for another second, then his expression shifted abruptly. The frivolous lightness vanished, and his voice dropped into a serious, direct tone—the voice of a hero fulfilling his duty.
"Tell me something," he asked. "Is it true that you killed a hero?"
The question came without warning.
And true to form, Satoru answered just as simply.
"Yes."
Hayato blinked.
He literally opened his mouth slightly.
"Oh," he said aloud, surprised that the answer hadn't been evasive, defensive, or the beginning of an argument.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the total lack of drama.
Satoru spoke before he could reorganize himself.
"There's nothing to hide," he said.
Nothing more.
The silence that followed did more work than any explanation.
Hayato scratched the back of his neck, unsure whether to admire the answer or feel even more confused.
"Well… yeah, I guess that does make it easier," he admitted. "Anyway, I had to ask."
He paused briefly.
"So… why did you kill her?"
Satoru showed no tension.
His eyes remained as calm as they had been at the start of the conversation.
"Because she tried to kill me," he replied.
Hayato opened his mouth again.
"Ah."
Yeah. That… that explained it.
But he wasn't entirely satisfied. He took a step forward and lowered his voice slightly, as if the next question truly mattered.
"Do you know why she wanted to kill you?"
This time, Satoru took a little longer to answer.
Not much.
But enough for the silence to weigh.
"Not completely," he finally admitted. "But most likely, I killed someone important to her."
Hayato let his arms fall to his sides and let out a long "oh," deeper than the previous ones, processing that the explanation was both that simple… and that raw.
He averted his gaze for a moment, as if he needed to rearrange his thoughts. The hallway remained narrow and silent, yet neither seemed willing to move. There was another point to ask for.
"So then…" he murmured, scratching his neck. "Was it you?"
Satoru didn't answer immediately, waiting for clarification.
Hayato exhaled, more serious this time.
"The witch," he clarified bluntly. "Did you kill her?"
"Yes," Satoru replied, with the same calm one might use to conclude a task.
Hayato blinked once. Not at the answer itself, but at what didn't follow.
"Can I ask why?" he said, without accusation. Just confusion.
"It was necessary," Satoru replied.
Nothing more.
Hayato opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, unable to find words. It wasn't the response of someone justifying himself, nor of someone boasting. It was pure pragmatism, and that disarmed him more than any elaborate excuse.
"Damn…" he murmured at last. "You say that so easily."
There was no reproach in his tone. Just frustration, difficult to hide.
Hayato let out a small snort and leaned back against the wall again, as if Satoru's answer had been too simple for everything he had expected to find.
He didn't say anything else about it. He simply watched him more carefully now, as if only now—once the initial tension had dissipated—he could truly face what stood before him.
He had arrived in Sedoma imagining many things: a dark presence, magical pressure that would put his senses on edge, the uncomfortable feeling he had learned to recognize after years of fighting demons. But there was none of that. Not a trace. Not a sign. Not a tremor in his instincts.
It was disappointing, in a way.
And at the same time, unsettling.
Because even though Satoru gave off no sign of a Demon King, something inside Hayato refused to settle. It wasn't fear, but the quiet recognition of a greater danger. A warning his body remembered even when his reason couldn't explain it.
He had felt it before.
Once.
Facing a high-class demon he should never have confronted.
A situation that had ended with losses he still carried.
Maybe that was why he had come alone.
He didn't want to repeat mistakes.
He didn't want to drag anyone else along if he was wrong about this man.
And yet, seeing him like this—standing there, calm, neither hiding nor showing hostility—the feeling was different. Satoru was dangerous, yes, but he wasn't a monster. He wasn't something born to destroy this world. He was… something else. Something that didn't have a name yet.
That thought stayed with him for a moment, until the inevitable conclusion surfaced on its own. It didn't need embellishment, nor pretense of surprise. It was too obvious.
Hayato took a deep breath and said it naturally, accepting a fact he couldn't avoid.
"At the end… we're going to end up fighting, aren't we?"
It wasn't a threat.
Nor a request.
Just the tacit acknowledgment that his role as a hero would eventually lead him there, even if he didn't like the idea.
Satoru didn't move, nor show any emotion.
"Most likely," he replied with the same calm he had used for every word in that conversation.
And nothing more was needed.
The room, the hallway, the silence between them… everything seemed to align with that shared certainty.
The battle was a consequence, not an act of hatred.
A shout tore through the silence of the hallway.
"HAYATO, YOU DAMN IDIOT!"
The voice came from the far end of the inn, charged with urgency and genuine anger. The sound of fast footsteps followed immediately—too firm to be simple haste, too controlled to be panic.
Hayato turned his head slightly, and a smile escaped him even before he saw her.
"Ah…" he murmured. "Took you long enough."
An instant later, Ringrande appeared as she rounded the corner of the hallway. Her armor, designed for combat and adapted to her figure without sacrificing functionality, clinked faintly as she came to a sharp stop in front of him. She didn't take time to assess the situation. She went straight to the point.
"What were you thinking?" she snapped. "Going alone? Without telling anyone? Without backup? Did you really think that was a good idea?"
Before Hayato could answer, she was already close enough to land a sharp kick to his shin—more corrective than violent. He let out a short laugh, clearly accustomed to it.
"Come on, come on… I just came to talk a bit."
"Talk, my ass!" she shot back. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if—?"
She cut herself off as she turned her head, finally becoming aware of the presence standing in front of Hayato.
Ringrande opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Ah…" she let out, the sound coming out wrong—too low—followed by a slight stumble as she tried to regain her composure. "I…"
She cleared her throat immediately, averting her gaze for just a second, as if she needed to remember where she was and what she was doing.
"Sorry," she added quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt, nor—" she cleared her throat again, "—nor raise my voice like that."
She straightened her back, trying to recover something resembling composure, though the faint blush on her face didn't completely fade.
"I need to take this idiot with me," she said, pointing at Hayato without looking at him. "It's unfinished business."
Hayato tilted his head, watching the scene with open amusement. His gaze moved from her to Satoru… and back again.
"Well, well," he commented. "You liked him, huh?"
Ringrande frowned instantly.
"What? Don't say stupid things! I just—"
"Though with that face, I can't blame you," he continued, grinning. "It surprised me too."
She turned her head toward him, clearly on the verge of saying something highly inelegant, but no words came out.
"By the way," Hayato added casually. "This is Satoru."
Ringrande froze.
She looked at Satoru.
Then at Hayato.
Then back at Satoru.
The color in her face deepened for a second… then vanished completely.
Her body reacted before any words did.
Her hand moved toward the hilt of her sword.
But when Ringrande's hand reached the grip, it went no further.
Hayato placed his own hand over hers, stopping the motion before it could be completed. The sword trembled slightly, but it never left its sheath.
Without giving Ringrande time to react, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as if nothing had happened. The smile on his face remained—carefree, unchanged.
"Sorry, but as you can see," he added, lifting his gaze toward Satoru, "we have to go."
Ringrande pressed her lips together, but didn't pull away. She let herself be guided as Hayato started walking, almost dragging her along, moving with far more haste than someone who claimed to be calm.
They walked away down the hallway.
Hayato's laughter contrasted with his body—with the rigidity of his shoulders, with the way he never lowered his guard for even a second, as if he expected something to happen at any moment.
Satoru noticed, but he didn't move. Fighting in this situation wasn't something he was seeking either.
Several steps away, Hayato seemed to remember something. He stopped briefly and turned his head back.
"Oh right, almost forgot," he said in that same light tone. "Tomorrow at noon, let's face each other at the north gate."
He didn't give Satoru time to react. He turned around again and resumed walking.
"See you then!"
The voice came from farther away, still animated, until both of them disappeared down the hallway.
*****
Author's Note:
This chapter focused heavily on dialogue and character dynamics, so I took a bit more time than usual to make sure the exchange felt natural and consistent with both sides.
From here on, the direction of the arc should be clearer, and the consequences of this meeting will start to unfold.
Thank you for reading, and for your patience.
If you'd like to read chapters in advance, you can check out my Patreon:
patreon.com/GreenHistories