When the two finally emerged from the tree line, the sight of the newly built house stopped Shiori in her tracks, her fox ears twitching in disbelief. At the porch, Oliver was in the middle of a sparring set with Alisa, while Violet sat nearby, looking bored.
"I'm back!" Emmet shouted, waving a heavy iron pot like a trophy. "And I brought gifts!"
Oliver dropped his guard, letting his shadow blade dissipate. "Four days, Emmet! I thought—" He stopped, his eyes shifting from the iron pots to the striking, dark-skinned woman standing beside his friend. " oh for fuck, Who is this? Emmet Why do you have more company?"
Alisa stepped forward, her hand instinctively resting on her hilt. "A fox-kin? And a Master swordswoman at that. Emmet, explain yourself."
"This is Shiori Takahashi," Emmet said, proudly setting down his crate of 'Sweet Soap.' "She's a wanderer I found while making soap and, apparently, our new bodyguard. She's got some... heavy news about my Fist Sentinel ability. Also, I made soap and some pots, we can cook soup and not smell like damp moss any more!"
Shiori stepped forward and gave a polite, formal bow, her long tail swaying calmly. "I mean no harm to the Heroes. I am here because the Goddess warned my clan of your arrival. Specifically, I am here to ensure that the power within Emmet remains sealed."
Violet's eyes went wide as she sniffed the air. "Is that... lavender? You actually made soap in the middle of this death trap?"
"High-quality stuff, too," Emmet grinned. He looked at the group—a Hero, a Holy Knight, a Demon, and now a Fox-kin Guardian. "The house has six rooms for a reason. Shiori, pick one. Oliver, Alisa, get the hot spring ready. We have a lot to talk about, and I am not discussing ancient wars while I still smell like a forest boar."
As they settled in, the tension of the Great White Forest seemed to linger just outside the fence line. While they now had a lovely crafted home and a new protector, the weight of Shiori's warning hung over them: Emmet was a walking time bomb of unstable potential, carrying the soul of a warrior who once fought the very nations they might soon encounter.
The steam from the hot spring rose in thick, white clouds, blurring the edges of the bamboo walls Emmet had engineered. For the first time since being summoned, the group felt a fleeting sense of normalcy, though the conversation remained heavy.
Shiori sat at the edge of the water, her fox ears twitching as she scanned the surrounding mist. She explained that the Four Great Kings were not merely monsters, entities that had achieved strength capable of killing an army of 100 trained knights.
The forest was effectively a prison; the only way to reach a human or demon settlement was to cross through a King's territory, which was impossible for any one of them, while Shiori was a seasoned warrior she would have a hard time fighting any of the kings by herself.
Shiori turned her gaze to Emmet, her expression grim. She warned that while the Fist Sentinel possessed power capable of conquering stars, at his full strength it was a "Cursed Rank" that bypassed the normal strength of this world, unleashing his power would most likely end in all of their deaths.
"If the seal breaks," Shiori whispered, her voice barely audible over the bubbling water, "it won't matter if you're in a house or a fortress. The Sentinel is a remnant of a war that predates the current strength of the word. He is the ultimate engine of destruction."
Oliver looked at his friend, who was busy scrubbing his arm with the new lavender soap. "So, we're stuck here for who knows how long , training with a knight and a fox-kin, while my best friend is a dormant god-slayer?"
"Pretty much," Emmet chirped, completely unfazed. "But look at the bright side—we have the best soap in the Great White Forest and a hot spring. I'd say we're winning."
Alisa sighed, leaning her head back against the stone. "Your optimism is either your greatest strength or the reason we will all die. But Shiori is right. We must stay hidden. If the kingdoms find out a Hero holds the soul of the Sentinel, they won't try to recruit you—they will try to execute you before you can master the power you have without summoning the first sentinel."
As the days turned into weeks, a steady routine took hold within the Great White Forest. Oliver dedicated himself to rigorous training under the dual tutelage of Alisa and Shiori, pushing his limits to improve his combat prowess. Between drills, he ventured into the deeper woods to hunt monsters, honing his reflexes in life-or-death situations.
Emmet, meanwhile, utilized his background in MMA and boxing to spar with the two women, though his primary focus remained on their survival. He spent his hours crafting tools, refining the house with intricate modifications, and working alongside Violet. Together, they scavenged for rare plants to diversify their diet. Under Violet's guidance, Emmet even learned to stabilize his silk production, ensuring their furniture and gear no longer evaporated but remained durable and refined.
Six months vanished in a flash. The group became experts on the local geography, learning exactly which territories to avoid to stay off the radar of the Four Great Kings. They discovered that the Great White Forest was locked in a strange, permanent state of spring, sparing them from the harshness of winter but reinforcing the feeling of being trapped in time.
Oliver's mastery of the Soul Bound Blade grew significantly during this period. He could now mimic Alisa's sword with perfect precision, though Shiori's massive katana—a blade of higher quality—still proved difficult to replicate perfectly. Driven by the need for more power, Oliver decided it was time to hunt a Boss Monster to obtain a skill of his own.
Tracking a target they had identified weeks prior, Oliver and Alisa set out toward a clearing where a humanoid Knight wielding a massive halberd stood guard.
As they crouched in the brush overlooking the stone ruins where the Knight patrolled, Oliver adjusted the grip on his black blade.
"This isn't like the lizard Emmet fought," Oliver whispered, his eyes locked on the armored figure. "There's no soft underbelly or obvious eye to pierce. That armor looks like it's part of its body."
"It likely is," Alisa replied, her turquoise eyes sharp. "A Halberd Knight has the advantage of reach. If you try to trade blows, he'll cleave you in two before you get close. I will take the lead to draw his attention and parry the heavy swings. You need to use your mimicry to adapt. When I create an opening, don't just strike—aim for the joints in the plate."
Oliver nodded, his heart racing. "So, I'm the scalpel, and you're the shield."
"Precisely," Alisa said. "And remember, we are still relatively weak compared to it. We cannot overpower this thing with brute force; we have to outmaneuver it".
As they stepped out from the foliage and began the final approach, the armored monster let out a metallic rasp, its halberd scraping against the stone.
"One thing, Oliver," Alisa said, her voice low and steady. "When we win, the world will grant you a skill you 'deeply desire.' Have you thought about what you want?"
Oliver looked at his matte-black sword, then toward the horizon where the Great Kings ruled. "I honestly don't know. A way to protect everyone? A way to cut through this forest? I'm just hoping the world gives me something we actually need."
Alisa offered a rare, confident smirk. "Then let's make sure you survive long enough to find out. Blade up, Hero."
As they walked towards the knight they knew that one single mistake would cost them their life.