Silence pressed down on the chamber after Claymond's declaration.
The words still lingered in the air—choose a hero, investigate the beast tide, return alive—as if the round table itself was waiting to see whether Kairo would bow or break.
Kairo didn't respond immediately.
He stood there, shoulders squared but mind restless, eyes drifting past the lords and toward the figures standing behind them. Heroes. Each one radiated presence in their own way—some calm, some imposing, some eerily unreadable.
(How is this fair?)
He didn't know them. Not their habits, not their limits, not whether they would listen to him at all. And yet he was expected to lead a reconnaissance mission deep into enemy territory with someone else's champion, under someone else's rules.
(And I can't even allowed to complain in my situation.)
"So?" Lyra cut in, her tone sharp, eyes cold. "There's still time. We can discuss proper plans instead of indulging reckless ideas."
Varen leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Or you could just accept it, dude. I believe in you."
Kairo let out a quiet chuckle, more breath than sound.
(Yeah… that figures.)
His gaze dropped to the floor as the weight of the situation finally settled. No Onyx. No personal forces. Only ratmen—barely organized, barely respected.
Behind him, Shiri shifted uneasily.
"This is bad," Shiri muttered under his breath. "Really bad."
Claymond exhaled softly, already satisfied. (Obviously, he won't accept such a task. No sane commander would.) His mind moved ahead. (Good. This ends here. Let's proceed with the meeting.)
Kairo's fingers twitched.
Then—
"Oh."
The sound slipped out before he realized it.
He lifted a hand and lightly tapped himself on the forehead.
Everyone froze.
"…What?" Varen blinked.
Kairo winced. "Uh—give me a second. I forgot something."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Forgot what, exactly?"
Kairo didn't answer. Instead, he raised one of his hands and joined the thumb and index fingers, framing his eyes, focusing like a marksman, peering through it as if trying to focus on something invisible.
The room erupted into confused murmurs.
"What is he doing?" Varen asked openly.
(Is this some kind of trick?) Lyra wondered, lips pressing into a thin line.
Claymond watched carefully. (Is he stalling?)
Kairo inhaled.
The Command Nexus flared to life.
The world shifted.
Information cascaded silently before his eyes—structured, precise, overwhelming. Rows of data hovered just beyond perception, visible only to him.
(There we go.)
He dropped his hands, expression smoothing as he began scanning the figures behind the lords.
First—Renn.
Status Plate:
Name: Renn
Race: Human
Tier: 4
Class: Bard
Skills:
• War Cadence — Boosts allies' speed and strength
• Enduring Hymn — Increases vitality and endurance
• Resonant Barrier — Generates a protective barrier
• Echo Shot — Ranged sonic attack
Kairo's gaze lingered.
A pure support type.
(Strong buffs, solid defense—but useless if I'm avoiding combat altogether.)
Next—Varen's hero.
Status Plate:
Name: Grath
Race: Ork
Tier: 4
Class: Barbarian
Skills:
• Savage Charge — High-speed frontal assault
• Bone Grapple — Locks enemies in close combat
• Boar Mounting — Mounted combat proficiency
• Axe Mastery — Enhanced damage and control with axes
Kairo exhaled slowly.
A frontliner through and through.
(Effective in battle, but exactly what I don't need.)
Then—Claymond's.
Kairo's eyes drifted to her. Silent, composed, eyepatch shadowing one eye—every instinct stirred.
(Light frame. Controlled breathing. No wasted movement.)
Everything about her screamed assassin.
Status Plate:
Name: ???
Race: Elf
Tier: ???
Class: ???
Skills:
• Iron Veil — Massive defense amplification
• Vital Lock — Damage redirection and endurance stacking
• Unyielding Frame — Resistance to knockback and status effects
Kairo's lips twitched at first.
From my old life's expectations… I thought assassin.
Her presence, the eyepatch, the silence—everything screamed speed.
But the longer he looked, the heavier his expression became.
(A tank? Seriously)
(Anime… you betrayed me.)
No name. No tier. Everything hidden.
(She's strong—but not what I hoped for.)
Before he could dwell on it, movement caught his attention.
From the stairway leading into the chamber, the ratmen finally arrived.
They scurried forward in a loose cluster, bickering, bumping into one another, squeaking loudly as they fought over space.
Lyra grimaced. "Do you even control those things?"
Kairo didn't look away. He issued a single, silent command through the Nexus.
The ratmen froze.
Then—snapped to attention.
Well. Mostly.
Two still smacked into each other before hastily straightening.
Kairo smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Well… mostly."
"…Huh," Varen muttered.
Kairo shifted his focus.
Kairo watched as the ratmen came to a halt before him. (Come to think of it, I haven't taken a look into their status yet. Well… as good a time as any, I suppose.)
Status Plate – Ratman #1 (Gray)
Name: Squeak
Status Plate – Ratman #2 (Black)
Name: Gnaw
Race: Ratman
Tier: 2
Class: Craftsman / Fighter
Skills:
Claw Combat (melee proficiency)
Spear Combat (melee proficiency)
Bow Handling (basic ranged attacks)
Crafting (weapons and basic traps)
Alert Sense (heightened awareness of surroundings)
Kairo squinted, studying their stats. (Hmm… not bad. Better than I expected for tier 2…)
For a moment, he thought that was all—nothing extraordinary, just above-average scout skills. But then, as he focused more closely, another skill blinked into view:
Skill : Tunneling – Allows underground movement and covert infiltration.
His breath slowed.
(This is it.)
The answer snapped into place so cleanly it almost made him laugh.
He straightened and turned back toward the round table.
Claymond had already begun to speak. "Since you seem hesitant, we should proceed with—"
"I accept."
The room stilled.
Kairo placed one hand on his hip—an oddly casual stance that somehow radiated confidence—and smiled.
"And I'll do it," he continued, voice steady, sharp with intent, "without any of your heroes."
Shock rippled outward.
"…Wow," Varen said after a beat. "Did not see that coming."
Lyra's eyes widened. (What?)
Shiri grabbed Kairo's shoulder. "H-hey, kid! Isn't that a little big—"
Kairo glanced back at him. "Trust me."
Shiri swallowed and let go.
Behind them, Onyx stood silently, crimson eyes fixed on Kairo. No expression. No movement.
Just… observation.
Kairo met his gaze and gave the slightest nod.
Claymond's laughter came out thin. Uneven.
"Very well," he said, though tension crept into his voice. His glasses slipped just enough to reveal his eyes—sharp, unsettled.
(What a monster.)
Moments later—
A few miles from the ruins, the land opened into a desolate plain. Dead grass swayed lazily in the wind, yellowed and brittle under the waning sun. Noon had faded into evening, and evening was already bleeding into night. Shadows stretched long, painting the plains in muted amber and deepening gray.
At the heart of this barren expanse, a pack of wolf-like creatures sat in eerie stillness. The Shakeled Hounds numbered no more than two hundred, yet their presence was oppressive. Red eyes glimmered like coals in the dimming light, scanning the horizon with uncanny intelligence. Their fur was a chaotic mix of black and white, streaked and blurred by dust and motionless wind, giving them the appearance of living phantoms.
Chains clinked softly around their necks. Each link bore a red gemstone, faintly glowing with an unnatural light, engraved with sigils of slave magic. The stones pulsed, tethering the hounds to an unseen master, enhancing their strength and obedience while suppressing any spark of individuality. The hounds were bound, but even restrained, they radiated lethal potential.
Some of the pack dared to wander, circling the edge of the group with cautious curiosity. Their movements were careful, calculated—never straying far, always returning to the core of the pack. Others simply rested, coiled like sinew-wrapped blades, muscles twitching beneath fur, tails flicking with suppressed tension. Not one dared approach the far edges of the plains too boldly; instinct and magic both demanded loyalty and proximity.
At the center of this restless congregation lay the largest of them all. Six red eyes glinted from its massive head, each one scanning a different direction, reflecting both wariness and authority. The chains around its neck were thicker, more reinforced, adorned with multiple red stones, each carved with intricate slave runes. The metal hummed faintly, resonating with power that tethered it like a crown to the will of its unseen master.
The great wolf lifted its head, sniffing the air. Its nostrils flared, scenting the plain, the horizon, even the earth beneath its paws. Something felt… off, and its body tensed, ears flicking to the faintest disturbance. Yet after a long pause, it settled back down, muscles relaxing, eyes half-shut. The master's commands had not come, and so it rested, patient and poised, waiting for the signal.
Beneath the ground, though, life stirred. Small mounds of freshly displaced earth hinted at movement hidden from the eyes above. Ten ratmen burrowed slowly and methodically, tunneling toward the edge of the pack. Each movement was deliberate, the soil packed neatly behind them to avoid detection. Stakes and supports formed temporary tunnels, creating paths that would allow silent infiltration across the battlefield above.
Kairo followed, torch in hand, made from the tattered remains of his tournament uniform, wrapping the fabric tightly around a simple stick, then ignited it, creating a flickering torch to light their path through the darkness.
Kairo crouched in the dim tunnel, torchlight flickering across the walls, eyes sharp. He glanced at the ratmen, determination solidifying. "Now it's my time. I will take this, no matter what."
To be continued.....