As Piers was about to speak, a familiar presence stepped forward.
Mutou.
There was a shift in his motion.
A change.
Something somber. Measured.
He bowed, slow and deliberate. The blue flame in his helmet dimmed slightly, the steel of his chestplate catching the flicker of embers.
"Young Master."
His voice rumbled out — echoing softly from within the hollow helm.
Piers turned, blinked.
There was something different in Mutou's posture — heavier, perhaps… burdened.
"I must offer my sincerest apologies," Mutou continued. "During the battle with the lighting werewolf… I failed you. My strength was insufficient. I was unable to act as your shield when you needed me most."
He straightened slightly, the flames flickering with restrained emotion.
"I have grown stronger since that day — since you gave us names. You trusted me. I swore loyalty. And yet… I could not fulfill my duty." His armored hands clenched at his sides. "I do not have the words to fully express my shame. But I have resolve."
He stepped forward — or rather, shuffled, his heavy armor gliding slightly as he pushed himself forward using only his armored toes.
And just a little bit... weird.
Piers blinked.
Did he just... crawl forward with his leg toes?
He chose not to comment.
Mutou was being dead serious.
He continued,
"Please rely on me more, Young Master. Let me be the one who stands between you and danger. Let me be your blade and shield. I swear — by your name and by the name you gave me — I will not falter again."
Piers stood still for a moment, the weight of Mutou's words settling into the silence.
He could hear the regret.
Feel the guilt.
See how much Mutou carried — even without a face to show it.
He stepped closer, tilting his head up to meet the flickering blue flame inside Mutou's helm.
His voice was steady. Gentle.
"You were injured. You took the hit meant for me. That wasn't weakness — that was loyalty. That was bravery."
The knight flinched ever so slightly — the flame in his helm flickering.
Piers continued.
his gaze flicking toward the children nearby.
"Because of you, I'm still here. And they're safe. That wasn't failure — that was victory.
"You didn't fail. You endured.
That's what matters."
"We all have strengths. We all have flaws. But we face them — together."
"And that includes trusting each other."
Then Mutou straightened.
His blue fire pulsed once — dim, then steady again.
"Yes, Young Master," his voice low and reverent.
"Together. I will not fail you again."
The children, along with Styx and Gyuunyuu — who had been quietly listening — felt a quiet warmth stir beneath the weight of his vow.
Despite the chill night pressing in, something fragile took root among them.
Not safety. Not peace.
Trust.
Gyuunyuu drifted forward, her voice lighter — teasing, but soft.
"And don't worry, Father," she murmured, a faint smile on her lips.
"I'll make sure you don't mope around next time."
For just a heartbeat, the flame in Mutou's helm wavered — the ghost of embarrassment flickering through it.
Piers' lips twitched, just barely hiding a smirk.
And in that fleeting warmth, the night didn't feel quite so dark.
.
.
.
.
The moon hung high — full and brilliant — with stars sprinkled across the dead of night.
A soft breeze whispered through the trees as Mutou, silent and diligent, gathered dry wood. Soon, a small bonfire crackled gently at the center of their makeshift camp.
Blanketed in warmth and glowing embers, the children sat gathered around the fire. Styx nestled comfortably in the middle, while Liel and Luci flanked her. Their eyes sparkled with gentle amusement as they watched a determined little figure nearby.
Piers.
Tiny legs wobbling, he was locked in a fierce battle… with a rock.
A small stone, barely a foot tall — but to Piers, it was Everest.
He braced himself. Hands on the cold surface. Brows furrowed. Fingers gripping. His feet scrabbled, slipping again and again.
Gyuunyuu, floating just behind him, gently placed her hands right on the bottom.
It was gentle. Respectful.
But undeniably a push on the butt, giving him a helpful nudge.
Piers wobbled forward with a surprised squeak, but gained a few inches of height in the process.
"He's so determined," Luci murmured, a soft, maternal warmth in her voice.
Liel smiled beside her. "He'll get there."
From her seat, Styx grinned wide and raised a playful fist. "Go, my little bro!"
Piers grunted, his face flushed with effort, eyes burning with resolve. He gained an inch — slipped — clawed back up. Not once did he stop.
And then — victory.
He scrambled up with one final push and stood atop the stone. Triumphant.
Chest heaving. Hair messy. Arms lifted high like a tiny warrior king.
A triumphant cry tore from his throat.
With a wobble of pride, he spun around, threw up both thumbs —
and flashed a wide, gap-toothed grin that lit up the night.
The girls burst into applause.
Cheers filled the air. The boys clapped, Styx pointed with pride.
"Did you all see that? That's my little brother!" she beamed.
"You did it, Piers-sama!" Liel rushed over, scooping him into a warm hug, her blanket draped around them both. "We knew you could."
"You were amazing," Luci added, kissing his forehead. Her voice, still soft, carried deep pride. "The best climber in the world."
Piers giggled, glowing with joy.
Wrapped in their arms, cheeks pressed to their soft blankets, he felt it — the warmth not just from fire… but from family.
He snuggled closer, heart full.
In that moment, Piers knew:
He could do anything.
Once the cheering died down and the giggles quieted, the group returned to their spots around the fire.
Piers remained on top of his little "mountain," now using it as a podium.
His tiny face turned solemn.
Clearly… a meeting was about to begin.
Ahem.
He cleared his throat, his tiny frame straightening as he began — voice filled with a newfound authority that completely betrayed his toddler age.
"First, we need to take care of the clothing situation," he declared, gestured toward the blankets, his tone practical,
"Then, we build a base. For all of us."
Around the fire, heads nodded. The children watched him with wide-eyed wonder. He looked like a little general… standing on a rock.
He turned to Mutou. "Mutou, please gather wood and stone. We'll need solid materials."
The knight bowed his smoky head in acknowledgment.
"Yes, Young Master. I shall take my leave at once."
Piers nodded with a serious expression that didn't quite match his gap-toothed grin.
Then, he called over his shoulder:
"Neesan. Come here for a moment."
Styx bounced over, curious — What is it?"
he reached up and — snip — pulled a few strands of her hair.
"OW! Hey! What was that for?!" she squeaked, rubbing the back of her head.
Piers ignored the question and focused, mana swirling around his fingers.
"I'm going to create a dummy version of you. This should solve the problem."
A beat later — fwip!
A perfect replica of Styx appeared beside him. Unblinking. Still.
her jaw dropped.
"Wha—? That's so me…"
"Now take the dummy and put her on your bed. Make sure it looks natural." just in case Mom or Dad checks."
she stared at the lifeless version of herself, then at Piers.
"Ah! Smart!" she grinned. "No one will ever know!"
She scooped up her wide-eyed doppelgänger and saluted.
With that, she bolted off — the clone in tow, arms stiff at her sides like a soldier being reassigned to top-secret bed duty.
Piers watched her go, a tiny, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
That takes care of the night patrol…
Gyuunyuu floated over next, eyes bright. "Master, is there something I can do too? I want to help."
Piers considered it, then flashed her a mischievous grin. "Only if you promise to give me milk whenever I ask."
Her entire face flushed pink.
"Ma–Master!" she squeaked, covering her cheeks with her tiny yokai hands. "T-that's so embarrassing…"
The group erupted in laughter at her flustered reaction.
Amid the giggles, Lien puffed up his chest and stepped forward.
"Master! I can help too!" he declared boldly. "Give me a task — any task!"
Piers held up a finger. "Shhh. Not so loud. You'll wake Mom and Dad."
Lien blinked, frozen in place, and slowly nodded like he had just been struck by divine wisdom. (Actually, he was just dumbfounded.)
"alright, before we head out… there's one more thing left to do,"
he stepped forward, raising his small hands. The children watched with wide eyes, their faces lit by curiosity.
He closed his eyes.
Stillness settled over him — calm and focused.
The air shimmered faintly as his Modal Maker skill activated.
Soft cerulean light swirled around his fingers, flowing into the fabric of the blankets. They rippled, twitched… and began to reshape.
Thread pulled itself tight. Hems folded. Fibers compressed.
In seconds, the makeshift coverings transformed — no longer loose wraps, but simple outfits: tunics, robes, and cloaks. Rough, practical, and styled loosely like the goblin rags they were used to — but now clean, fitted, and warm.
The kids lit up with gratitude.
Liel clutched the newly-shaped tunic to her chest, a blush coloring her cheeks.
"Thank you, Piers-sama! These are wonderful — so much better… and warm." She adjusted the fabric shyly, her eyes glowing with quiet joy.
Lien looked down at his tunic, then gave a small nod.
"While the style is… rustic, they're warm and work fine. Thank you, Master."
Thog gave a proud chest-pound, grinning wide.
His new outfit — just a rugged waistcloth — left his muscular upper body completely exposed.
He flexed happily, testing his biceps and grinning down at his abs like he'd discovered a new toy.
The cloth held firm around his hips — practical, sturdy, and exactly what he needed.
Luci touched the soft cloth over her shoulders and looked at Piers. Her voice was quiet.
"Thank you, Piers-sama… I love it."
Piers watched them quietly, his smile gentle and proud.
The flickering firelight danced in their new clothes.
This... feels right.
The night deepened, Mutou arrived first, lugging a pile of materials like they weighed nothing. His head blazed with an intense blue flame — like a miniature sun — casting eerie shadows that flickered and danced around them.
Right behind him came Styx, practically vibrating with energy.
Piers stood still for a moment, gaze sweeping over the group. Then, in his usual calm tone:
"…Gather up everyone. We're moving out."
The kids perked up, bowls forgotten, attention locked on him.
"We're heading deeper," he announced, "The base is going to be a little further in — somewhere Mom and Dad won't accidentally wander into."
A beat.
Styx gave a slow, dramatic nod like she was on a top-secret mission.
Piers turned and faced the house one last time. With a flick of his hand, a shimmering barrier spell spun into place — translucent and glowing faintly in the night.
"Parental safety?" he muttered.
"Nope. This is a Mom-Rage Containment Unit."
A collective nod from the group. No more questions.
With that, they stepped into the woods — deeper into the forbidden forest, where shadows whispered and moonlight filtered through thick branches.
The path wasn't long — just a few miles.
They arrived at a small clearing nestled between gnarled roots and mossy boulders. The air was cool. Quiet.
Luci turned, her voice soft but curious.
"Piers-sama… what are you going to do with all that wood and stone Mutou brought?"
he walked over to the neat stacks of timber and stone Mutou had dropped nearby, his hand brushing the grain of the wood.
"Perfect," he muttered. "Oak and slate. Just like a home."
Then he turned back to Luci, smirking. "Watch this."
He cracked his knuckles. The air shimmered slightly around him as mana poured into his hands — the telltale hum of Modal Maker beginning to buzz.
"Time for a little experiment."
Everyone leaned in.
A low pulse echoed as his mana flared.
Then — with a shimmer and ripple — something began to form.
Walls. A roof. Sliding doors. Wooden beams, lantern hooks, clean lines.
In moments, a typical Japanese-style house stood proudly in the clearing. Tatami-floored, wooden porch, paper windows glowing softly from the inside.
Gasps exploded around him.
"Wooooah!"
"No way!"
"A house?!"
Their earlier nervousness melted instantly, replaced by wide grins and sparkling eyes. Awe spread across every face like wildfire.
Lien's mouth dropped open.
"This… is so cool."
Styx ran up to the front step, poked at the porch, and shouted, "This is totally a secret hero base!"
Luci smiled faintly, her eyes glowing with warmth.
And Piers — still standing there, arms crossed again — felt that familiar pride bubble up inside him.
Mission: Base Creation — Complete.
In a blur, Styx bolted forward, zipping straight into the newly formed house with a speed that betrayed her usual boisterous energy.
Gyuunyuu floated after her, her glowing form humming softly with curiosity as she passed through the doorway like a drifting spirit.
"Lien surged in behind them.
'A house! An actual house! Our house!' he shouted, nearly tripping over the entry mat."
Luci and Liel followed more gracefully, eyes wide, their voices light with excitement as they wandered through the space — admiring the layout, the craftsmanship, the simple beauty of it all.
Even Mutou, ever the quiet sentinel, tilted his helm slightly as he peered inside — his ever-burning blue flame casting long, dancing shadows across the polished floorboards.
Then there was Thog.
He stared.
He blinked.
Then, with no words — because Thog had no words — he stomped one giant foot.
BOOM.
The ground trembled slightly.
A deep, approving rumble escaped his chest — his version of a standing ovation.
The house was simple… yet elegant.
Tatami floors stretched through a large common hall, framed by polished wood and soft, glowing paper screens. Two private rooms sat tucked behind sliding doors, and a clean, open kitchen waited at the back. A bath chamber, built with smooth stone and steaming water fed from a natural spring, rested quietly behind the kitchen — simple, warm, and deeply inviting.
A narrow porch wrapped the exterior, facing a quiet garden of moss, gravel, and stone.
It wasn't lavish.
It wasn't extravagant.
But it felt like home.
Piers, after a moment of satisfied observation, stepped back outside.
Thog remained close by his side.
A new glint of determination lit Piers' eyes as he knelt and pressed his palms to the earth. The air around him crackled with raw mana.
With a focused surge of power, he created a barrier — a shimmering orange field that enveloped the entire house.
The barrier pulsed with pure energy, its glow casting soft, ethereal light through the surrounding forest — a silent testament to its immense strength.
Thog watched in awed silence, his massive form trembling with primal reverence.
Though he had no words, his body spoke for him.
He raised his huge fists in the air in a gesture of praise…
Then slammed them together —
BOOM.
The thunderous clap shook the nearby trees, scattering leaves and birds alike.
His every movement overflowed with respect, loyalty, and gratitude for his young master.
Piers blinked at the spectacle, then sighed internally.
"Great. He's gonna be seriously strong someday…"
Piers turned his gaze to the barrier, watching it shimmer and ripple like heat on glass.
"This should keep them safe for now," he murmured, eyes scanning the protective dome. A flicker of satisfaction passed through him — but it didn't last.
It's far stronger than anything I've created before. I can feel the mana pulsing through it… warm. Steady. But… will it be enough?
Beneath the confident surface, a storm churned.
What's still out there? Beyond the edge of this light?
His thoughts drifted — not to the barrier, but beyond it. Are Mom and Dad even safe? Do they even realize what's lurking out here? He clenched his fists, his face tightening.
I need to get stronger. Fast.
He glanced back toward the house, the windows aglow with soft light. Inside were the people relying on him: Liel. Lien. Luci. Gyuunyuu. Even Mutou. Even Styx.
Each one waiting for his lead.
I have to protect them.
No more doubts. No more stalling.
This was home now.
And he was its shield.
Just then, Mutou stepped out of the house, He stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of the glowing barrier — then turned to Piers.
"Young Master," he began, voice low and contemplative. "My daughter and I… as you know… are undead. We do not require… natural relief."
His helmet tilted slightly toward the house. "However… The others are not undead. They will… need to excrete."
There was a pause.
Piers blinked.
The silence stretched.
His expression slowly collapsed into a blank, flat stare — utterly deadpan.
Without a word, he raised one small hand… and pointed to the southern edge of the clearing, just inside the barrier.
A patch of ground. Empty. Secluded. Clearly marked by a single wooden plank stuck in the dirt.
Scrawled across it, in Piers' careful handwriting:
"Official Pooping Zone. Do not stare."
Mutou stared at the sign.
A long pause.
"…Understood," his tone gravely.
Piers blinked slowly, the night air utterly silent around them.
He sighed, face unreadable.
* * *