If Rank S had been heavy, what came after managed to be worse in a different way.
There was no time to digest the guild ceremony. On the same day, we were escorted to Vailor's lesser palace, the one used for audiences that did not require maximum pomp, but still carried enough formality to make anyone uncomfortable. I had entered there before, a few times, always as someone asking for something or receiving orders. This time, the feeling was different. And that did not reassure me.
The corridors were too wide. Too clean. The sound of our footsteps echoed, even with thick carpets covering the floor. Guards watched in silence, hands firm on their spears, eyes far too attentive for someone who was supposed to be honored.
"They don't blink," Elara murmured too close to my ear.
"They can't," Vespera replied quietly. "We're in the middle of a bigger game now."
Liriel walked ahead, posture straight, expression neutral. For her, that environment was not unfamiliar. I noticed it in the details. In the way she observed the symbols carved into the walls, the stained glass depicting ancient agreements between races. She understood the weight of it better than I did.
We were led into a smaller hall. The king was not present yet, but members of the council were. Well-dressed men and women, some too young for such high positions, others old enough to seem like part of the furniture.
When the king entered, the silence settled completely.
He did not look different from what I remembered. Tired. Attentive. The kind of man who knew that every decision cost something he would never get back.
"Takumi," he said. Just my name. No titles yet.
I inclined my head out of respect, not submission. The three of them stood right behind me.
"You have saved Vailor more than once," he continued. "And this time, you saved something greater than a city."
He spoke about stability, about the impact of a demon general's fall, about how symbols were necessary to keep the people united. I understood where this was going even before he finished.
"For this reason," the king said, gesturing to a servant, "the kingdom grants you titles of nobility."
The scroll was opened. Names were spoken. Words like associated lands, rights, duties. I didn't hear everything. My mind locked onto a phrase far too simple.
Noble.
Elara's eyes widened. Vespera frowned. Liriel closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if accepting something inevitable.
"We don't want political power," I said before thinking too much.
The king smiled faintly. "And yet it comes. Not as a weapon, but as a chain."
The word lingered in the air.
"You will not be forced to govern," he explained. "But your names now carry weight. Wherever you go, you will represent something beyond yourselves."
I nodded. There was no refusal there. Not after everything.
When the titles were sealed, I felt something close around me. Invisible, but real. Until then, if we made mistakes, the blame died with us. Now, it would echo.
We left the palace in silence.
The city looked the same, but it wasn't. People stepped a little farther aside as we passed. Some bowed discreetly. Others watched with contained curiosity.
"I hate this," Elara finally said. "Nothing changed, but everything changed."
"That's how it starts," Vespera replied. "Freedom changes shape."
We walked to a more distant square. There, away from direct gazes, we finally stopped.
"You're thinking about running away," Elara said, looking at me.
"I'm thinking about when this stopped being simple," I replied.
Liriel stepped closer. "Power never comes alone. But it also doesn't erase who you are."
I looked at the three of them. They were still there. Still themselves. Maybe that was what mattered.
But I knew. From that day on, our choices would no longer be only ours. And that was the part no one celebrated.