"This shit starting to get on my nerves!"
"Please, calm down, sir."
"Just yesterday, one of them caused a ruckus right in the middle of the Guild square, and none of Ganesha Familia did a damn thing except tuck their tails and run!"
An aging elf with graying hair and a bulging stomach slammed his fists together in anger as he lounged in his leather chair.
"These Wanderers are nothing but savages tearing down the law and order of Orario! Yesterday, one of them caused chaos again... and Ganesha Familia just fled in front of every adventurer watching!"
A council was being held between three of Orario's key committees—the heads and representatives of the Adventurers' Guild, the Denatus Authority, and the Citizens' Union.
They had gathered in the wake of yesterday's incident downtown, where a civilian had been caught in the middle of the jumble.
The council itself had been founded in the aftermath of the public riots and destruction that once followed the Dark Age, created to maintain order in Orario and prevent the return of the chaos once brought by Evilus.
Back when most Familias were crippled, groups authorized by Denatus were formed to restore security throughout the city.
With the arrival of the last few participants, the wooden door shut, and silence filled the chamber.
An old man in an orange robe, his eyes weary, finally spoke.
"Well, I think we all know why we're here."
Some of the members lazily shuffled through their papers.
"It's rare for an incident with a Wanderer to happen in broad daylight, in front of a crowd. Everyone saw it... a fool who didn't know better than to pick a fight with a young one Wanderer..."
One advisor commented, "But they don't actually commit crimes—they just don't follow Guild law."
Royman, the same fat elf, slammed his fist on the table.
"What are you babbling about? The man who lost his hand was a father—a wife and two kids, and he can't even afford a prosthetic from the alchemists!"
Another voice cut in sharply.
"I agree. Those Wanderers have gone too far!"
The sound of pens striking wood echoed through the room. The air grew so thick it was hard to breathe.
Then, a man in a long black coat, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke. His tone was calm—but cutting.
"You all only see them as a nuisance... but you've never asked why they exist."
All eyes turned to him.
"No one comes out of Daedalus Street unless they've been cast out of everywhere else," he said. "You have Familias. You have gods. You have roofs over your heads. What do they have?—a maze of alleys, and hunger."
Royman's fist hit the table again.
"Don't preach pity to me! They're dangerous! Every day one of them attacks an adventurer! I won't let this city fall back into the same hell Evilus once brought!"
Another man scoffed.
"Funny... they're even alive at all~"
The chairman coughed to regain order.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this isn't the time for slander. I agree the Wanderers are wild, but they've never attacked without reason. If they were truly as dangerous as you claim, Orario would already be in flames."
Someone muttered,
"Then why are we here?"
"Because yesterday, a Wanderer attacked a civilian—without any provocation! That's the issue at hand!"
A brief silence followed.
"Senior Advisor, Eina Tulle, please read your reports."
The elf woman with brown hair and emerald eyes lifted her gaze.
"According to witness statements, the Wanderer was provoked. The crowd insulted him."
Several members nodded reluctantly.
Incidents like that had happened before—mockery, harassment, and discrimination that usually led to violence.
But this time, it had gone too far.
"What do we know about this Wanderer?"
"Almost nothing... No name, no records and pasts. The only thing people call him is Nightrunner. And according to reports... he's the only Wanderer who ventures into the Dungeon."
Someone frowned.
"Wait—how does he even get in without a Guild card?"
Eina replied, "For Entering to tower, yes... But not for the Dungeon."
Royman rubbed his forehead.
"If he doesn't belong to any Familia, how the hell is he selling so many magic stones?"
"He might have a Falna from a small or obscure Familia. Some gods secretly give work to Wanderers. Maybe he's one of them—or maybe not."
One member said,
"I've heard he's stronger than most. Could he be their leader?"
Another added,
"Two Level 3 members of Ganesha Familia tried to apprehend him. He scared them half to death! That's no joke!"
"Damn it... this just keeps getting worse."
The chairman finally slammed his wooden gavel.
"Enough! We need a decision."
Royman scanned the room, rose to his feet, and declared,
"My proposal is simple—Daedalus Street must be locked down. Starting tomorrow night, new patrols will move in—adventurers hired specifically for this task. Any Wanderer seen in the city without authorization will be detained. If they resist... they'll be eliminated."
A woman from the committee objected.
"Excuse me, but I don't think that's wise. If you corner them in such a confined district, they'll riot sooner or later."
"So what? In the end, it'll all come crashing down on them!"
Another man, from the Guild's side, spoke in a cautious but firm tone.
"But there are too many of them—and don't forget, the Wanderers have no Respect for Orario's people, especially the Guild!"
The room fell silent again. Everyone knew that was true.
After the fall of Evilus, the Guild, alongside the great Familias, had restored order—rebuilding homes, establishing laws, and bringing peace.
But that peace had a cost: waves of orphans and exiles. Not all of them found shelter.
Some noble and wealthy Familias, out of pity—or pride—built orphanages for a fraction of those children.
But not all were taken in.
Those whose families had once been tied to Evilus—the children condemned by their own blood—were cast out, rejected, and forgotten.
They drifted to the city's lower depths... and thus, the first generation of Wanderers was born.
"While this plan might not be the most effective way to handle the Wanderers," a man from Denatus raised his hand, "I have a different approach in mind. Why not be both diplomatic and decisive? As they say—kill two birds with one stone."
The others looked at him curiously.
"What's your suggestion?"
He smiled faintly.
"As we all know, every group needs a strong leader to survive. Recently, there've been rumors coming from the Ishtar Familia—that they're searching for the Wanderers' leader."
The mere mention of that name sent a murmur through the room.
Ishtar Familia—an organization under the goddess of pleasure and the night trade, controlling much of Orario's entertainment district: courtesans, hosts, and pleasure houses.
"Why would Ishtar want their leader?" someone asked.
The Denatus representative traced his finger along the table.
"Isn't it obvious? Whoever controls their leader, controls the Wanderers."
A wave of murmurs spread. Papers rustled. Someone coughed.
Royman frowned.
"You're saying Ishtar wants to use them? For what? That goddess only wastes her time competing with Freya—why would she care about a bunch of gutter rats?... Power?"
The man smirked lightly and shrugged.
"Not necessarily just power. Think about it—most of her Familia members are Amazoness, right?"
A young girl Guild officer with pink hair nodded cautiously.
"Yes, everyone knows that—but what do Amazons have to do with Wanderers?"
He leaned forward.
"It's simple. Amazoness can't bear male offspring. Their survival depends on mating with men from other races—men who are physically and mentally strong. And now look at the Wanderers: young, tough, unaffiliated, free, and physically resilient. To Ishtar, they're the perfect seeds—for business, for influence."
Some exchanged uneasy glances.
"Just for... Breeding???"
"Not exactly," he said coolly. "But her motives could be mixed. Remember, Ishtar Familia isn't just about pleasure—they're political. If she manages to bond with the Wanderers, she strengthens her lineage and gains a new kind of loyalty. Emotional and primal bonds are weapons too—and for those born as second-class citizens, it's a form of power."
A rough laugh echoed from one corner.
"So you're telling us she's seducing them for political stability? That's absurd!"
The Denatus man didn't flinch. His tone remained cold.
"Absurd? Perhaps. But Ishtar has ruled her district through seduction and dominance for centuries. Desire is power—and power, when controlled, reshapes nations."
Another member spoke quietly.
"But why now? Why the Wanderers? Is this new, or part of something larger?"
"Maybe because they're the only unpredictable force left in Orario. The great Familias can be bargained with. The Guild plays by rules. But the Wanderers?—no ties, no fear, no gods. If someone like Ishtar can tame even a handful of them... half of our problems disappear."
The room fell silent again. Footsteps echoed faintly beyond the door.
Finally, Royman spoke.
"So instead of crushing them, we need to understand what Ishtar's really after. If her goal is alliance, we can use that to Orario's advantage. But if there's more behind it..."
"Then by the time we realize it," the man in black murmured, "we'll be one breath away from falling back into darkness."
And with a few final reports exchanged, the meeting slowly came to an end.
Papers shuffled. Chairs scraped. And then—the heavy wooden door closed with a dry thud, sealing the room in silence, and the uncertain fate of what was to come.
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Meanwhile, north of Orario's outer wall—facing a stretch of green fields and farmland—a manor rested quietly beneath the cool breeze of dawn.
From a half-open window, the wind carried the scent of damp earth, grass, and freshly cut wheat into the room.
On a plain bed bathed in the faint light of morning, a boy lay motionless—his body covered in wounds, his hands wrapped in white bandages, his breathing faint but alive...
One day, he would become the key capable of changing the fate of many... and perhaps, of Orario itself.
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At the same time...
Elsewhere, things were not well within another Familia.
For two days now, one of their most important members had been in an abnormal and troubling state.
"Ais, are you alright?"
Lefiya's voice was soft and trembling with worry. The elf, with her orange-tinted blonde hair and bright blue eyes, stood behind the closed door, holding a tray of warm food in both hands.
"Please... say something. Everyone's worried about you."
Since the group had returned from their last expedition—two days ago—the Sword Princess hadn't left her room even once.
Their god had eventually resorted to peeking through the window to see what was going on.
What they saw unsettled everyone—Ais lay naked and motionless on the bed, her skin pale, her eyes unfocused and trembling, golden hair scattered wildly across the sheets. She was in a state of half-shock, as though her consciousness had sunk deep within and refused to resurface.
Even Riveria could do nothing. Every attempt at healing failed, to the point that they were now seeking psychologists from outside the city.
Lefiya was the most worried of all. Her voice quivered. "At least... please eat something, okay?"
No one knew what she had seen to leave her in such a state. There was no sign of magic, no hypnotism, no mind-altering curse.
It had to be something deeper than enchantment or sorcery—something that had struck her emotions.
Something—or someone—had shattered Ais Wallenstein's spirit.
Their god was furious, pained to see one of his beloved children like this.
Lefiya set the tray down beside the door, casting one last look at it before whispering softly, "I'll leave the food here... please, just come out when you feel better, alright?"
Without hearing a reply, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, sighed, and quietly walked away.
.
.
"Monster..."
In the heavy silence of the dim room, her trembling voice broke the stillness.
The Sword Princess, Ais Wallenstein, stared blankly into nothing, her dry lips barely moving.
"Why... why would a human be a monster...?"
Her whisper—an echo of horror buried deep within—faded into the cold walls of her room.
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To be continued...