The soup didn't burn.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second—
He didn't stop smiling right away.
Not wide. Not obvious. Just faint. Lingering longer than it should have.
As if whatever caused it hadn't quite left yet.
He ate in silence. Slow. Measured. Each spoonful steady, without rush. Like everything else he did.
But it wasn't the same as before. Not entirely.
There was no tension in his shoulders. No tightness in his jaw. No distant, hollow stillness behind his eyes.
Just quiet.
When the bowl emptied, he didn't linger. He stood. Cleaned. Put everything back where it belonged. Routine. Simple. Grounding.
Then the room dimmed—not suddenly, not dramatically. Just the natural shift as evening gave way to night.
He moved to the bed without hesitation. And laid down.
I felt it immediately—not physically, but something else. A shift. Subtle, but undeniable.
His breathing slowed. Even. Rhythmic. His body relaxed completely.
And then a thought surfaced. Mine.
Wait. He's going to sleep.
I don't get tired. I don't feel hunger. I don't feel anything unless it comes from him.
So what happens to me? Do I stay awake? Just exist? Alone?
The idea sat there, unanswered. Uncomfortable.
His eyes closed. And I waited. Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Hard to tell. Time felt different without a body to measure it.
I focused. Tried to stay aware. Tried to hold onto my thoughts.
But something pulled—not forcefully, not violently. Just gently. Like being dragged under water. Without resistance, without urgency.
My thoughts slowed. Blurred.
No. Wait—I tried to hold on, to stay awake.
But darkness came first. Not sight. Not feeling. Just absence.
Then nothing.
Morning came quietly. Light filtered through closed eyes. Soft. Warm.
His body stirred. A slow inhale. A slight shift.
And just like that, I was back. Awake. I paused. Then—huh.
That was unexpected. I didn't stay conscious. Didn't drift. Didn't linger in some half-aware state. I slept. Just like him.
So that's how it works. When he's asleep, I am too. A condition. Not mine. His.
Which means—when he fell unconscious yesterday due to an abnormal state is a different situation.
His eyes opened. And with them, the world settled back into place. The ceiling. Plain. Familiar.
He didn't stay there long. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, then stood.
The floor creaked softly underfoot as he moved to the basin. Water. Cold. Clear. He splashed it over his face. Once. Twice. Then looked up.
The mirror.
There it was again. That face. Sharp. Clean. Almost unreal in how composed it looked. Pale skin. Dark hair. Those eyes—still red. Still striking.
I stared. Closer this time. Yeah. No mistake.
"Huh." A thought surfaced as I looked at his face.
"I really am handsome, huh?"
The comment came in naturally as if I am giving myself a pat in the back.
Well, it's not like I am lying. Viole and I share the same face, so it's natural to appreciate it, no?
He paused slightly. Not reacting. Not agreeing. Not denying. Just continuing, as if the comment didn't matter at all. Well, it's not like he can hear me.
The kitchen came next. Simple. Familiar.
He moved without thinking, already deciding, already preparing breakfast. Bread, sliced. Lightly toasted over the pan. Eggs, cracked cleanly. Cooked just enough. A bit of leftover meat from yesterday, reheated. Nothing extravagant, but enough. Efficient.
Then preparation. More bread. Wrapped. Layered with meat. Some greens. Simple sandwiches. Portable. Practical. Packed into a small cloth bag. Tied securely. Set aside.
His gaze shifted to the armor. Leather. Worn. Cut. Damaged. Right. Yesterday. The tear along the side hadn't been fixed. Not something you could ignore in this line of work.
"Need a new one." Simple conclusion.
For now, he adjusted. Underneath—a dark, fitted tunic. Durable fabric. Light enough for movement. Reinforced at the seams. Trousers to match. Flexible. Practical. Built for travel rather than appearance. Boots. Worn. But reliable.
Then armor. What remained of it. Shoulder guard first. Scratched. Marked. But intact. Strapped securely. Arm guards. Light plating. Enough to deflect. Not enough to weigh him down. He skipped the damaged piece. No point pretending it would hold.
Then the katana. Resting where it always was. Within reach. He picked it up, checked the weight, the balance. Satisfied, he secured it at his side. Bag. Sword. Everything accounted for.
He stepped out. Locked the door behind him. The city greeted him the same way it did yesterday. Alive. Moving. Breathing.
But something was different. From where I stood, his steps were lighter. Not by much. Not enough for most people to notice.
But I did. Less drag. Less weight behind each movement. His gaze—less distant. Not warm. Not open. But not as closed off as before. Interesting.
The Guild came into view. And just like that, the subtle shift was gone. Replaced. His posture straightened. Expression cooled. Familiar. Controlled. Distant. The same Viole from yesterday.
He stepped inside. Noise. Movement. Voices overlapping. Nothing new.
He approached the counter. Liora. His presence shifted again. Not completely, but enough.
"Morning," he said.
"Good morning, Viole!" Her response came easily. Bright.
"The gathering commission I returned yesterday. And—any goblin extermination quests?"
She nodded immediately, kneeling behind the counter and rummaging through the shelves below.
"Let's see…" Papers shifted. Wood creaked softly. She stood back up, holding one. "Here's your uncompleted commission. As for goblin extermination…" Her expression shifted slightly. "…I just posted one. And those adventurers over there took it."
He turned. Four of them. Young. One swordsman, Blade class, stance stiff but trying. Two mages, one clearly a healer, the other offensive, likely spellcaster. And one ranger, light gear, bow resting beside him. Balanced. On paper. Inexperience showed in everything else. They were talking, planning, probably. Unrefined.
"They registered just a few minutes ago," Liora's voice came from behind him. "Childhood friends, from what I gathered. All F-rank." That explained it.
Then a shift in her tone. "Why don't you join them?"
He didn't turn immediately.
"There aren't many extermination quests today. That might be the only one. And… it might help." Now he turned.
"With?"
"Your trust issues." Direct. Blunt. Unapologetic.
She didn't stop there. "They're new. They won't take advantage of you. You can guide them. It's good practice."
Softer now. Quieter. "And I'm worried about them. Goblins aren't simple. Even with a balanced party… they're still beginners."
He didn't argue. Didn't disagree. Just looked at her.
"Next time, just say you're worried about them. Saves time."
She blinked, then a faint smile. "Will you do it?"
He looked back at the group. Young. Unprepared. Potential—unrealized. Wasted easily.
"Yeah." Not for her. Not entirely. And not for them. But not against it either.
"Hey, you four!" Liora called out. The group turned. Confused. Curious. "Come here for a moment!" They exchanged glances, then stood, walking toward the counter. Unaware of what was about to change.
The four approached the counter.
Their steps hesitant. Uncertain.
Eyes scanning. Taking in the guild. The people. The noise.
Viole didn't move. Didn't greet. Didn't smile. Just watched.
I watched too. Through him.
The first thing I noticed—how small they seemed. Not height, not build—but presence. Each one occupied space differently. Nervous energy. That "new to this world" aura.
Liora gestured.
"Everyone—this is Viole."
She gave a little flourish, as if presenting a rare artifact.
D-Rank Blade Class. Swordsman. Silver Rank. Experienced. Efficient. Reserved.
They blinked. One stepped slightly forward. Unsure where to look.
Viole's gaze swept over them. Careful. Evaluating. Measuring.
I noticed the subtleties. The nervous tremble in one's fingers. The too-straight posture of another. The way one's eyes darted to a friend for reassurance. The way the last stood calm, maybe overconfident—or just unaware.
Liora continued, voice light. "He's joining you because he's looking for an extermination quest. And well… you guys already took it. He's experienced. Thought it would be helpful to have someone to guide you."
A pause. Then—teasing.
"He's D-Rank Blade class but hard stuck in Silver Rank because he's shy. Doesn't like teaming up."
Viole's eyes snapped to her. Sharp. Disdaining. A warning.
Liora just smiled. Like she knew exactly how that would land.
The first of the four stepped forward. Took a deep breath.
"I'm Kiran," he said. Voice shaking just slightly. "Blade class. F-rank. Swordsman. Fifteen years old."
His hands were steady, despite the nerves. But his stance betrayed inexperience. Too rigid. I noted the tension in his shoulders. Like a bowstring pulled tight.
The second—a girl with bright eyes—stepped next.
"Eira. Mage class. F-rank. Offensive magic. Sixteen."
Her hair fell in loose waves. Slight smudge of dirt on her cheek. Hands trembling when she folded them. But she had a spark. Something daring behind the fear.
The third, smaller in frame, quiet—stepped forward slowly.
"Luna. Mage class as well. F-rank. Healer. Fourteen."
Delicate. Careful. Wary. Eyes flicked from one friend to the other. I could feel the weight of responsibility in her posture. Protective. Soft. But inexperienced.
The last—lean, calm, collected. Taller than the others.
"Rath. Marksman class. F-rank. Ranger. Seventeen."
Confident. Relaxed. But not arrogance. More… ignorance of danger. Unpolished skill. Lithe. Agile. Eyes scanning. Always scanning.
I noted it all. The way Viole did. The subtle cues. The energy each of them carried. Fragile. Tentative. Eager. Untrained. Potential, barely shaped.
And yet—they would follow him. If he allowed it.
I could already see it—the careful balance forming.
Or failing.
They stood there. All four of them. Waiting.
Not moving. Not speaking. Just looking at him.
At us.
Expectation hung in the air—thin, fragile. The kind that could break with a single wrong word.
Viole didn't indulge it.
"Commission."
One word. Flat. Direct.
Eira reacted first. A slight flinch, then she scrambled, pulling a folded parchment from her satchel. Her hands carried a faint tremor.
"O-Oh—right. Here."
She held it out carefully, like hesitation might make it disappear.
Viole took it. Unfolded it. His eyes moved once, then again—
And stopped.
I felt it immediately. Recognition. Subtle, quiet, but there.
Verdant Hollow Forest.
Same marking. Same region.
The exact area we were in yesterday.
…So this wasn't just familiarity. This was recent.
His gaze lingered half a second longer than necessary before he spoke.
"That area." His finger tapped the parchment lightly. "Verdant Hollow Forest. Western side."
Eira blinked. "Y-Yeah… that's what it says…"
"I was there yesterday."
That did it.
All four of them straightened—not dramatically, but enough. That invisible shift. From uncertain…
to listening.
"It's an outdoor settlement," Viole continued. "Near a herb-rich zone."
Ai's face surfaced in my mind for a moment.
Uninvited.
Unrelated.
And yet—
Not entirely.
"It'll be easier than a cave raid."
A brief pause.
"But."
There it was.
The word that changes everything.
His finger slid slightly across the parchment.
"You don't engage immediately."
Kiran frowned. "W-What do you mean?"
Viole looked up, eyes steady.
"Before you touch the settlement—" a brief pause, "—you scout for caves."
Silence followed. Not confusion. Not resistance.
Processing.
Luna spoke first, soft but steady. "…Why?"
"Goblins live in caves," Viole said. Simple. "Settlements only appear when their numbers grow."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"If there's a settlement, there's usually a cave nearby."
Which meant—
"That cave is the base."
I felt the shift ripple through them. Understanding. And with it—
tension.
"If you ignore it," he continued, "you get surrounded. While you're fighting the ones outside… the ones inside come out."
He tapped the parchment again.
"Reinforcements."
Eira swallowed. "…So we deal with the cave first?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"How?" Rath asked, voice calm, but more focused now.
"Seal it."
A beat.
Eira blinked. "S-Seal it?"
"With earth magic. Collapse the entrance. Build a wall."
A pause.
Her shoulders tensed slightly. "I… can't do that. I use fire. And wind."
More quietly, "Mostly fire…"
Viole didn't react. No sigh. No judgment.
"Then use fire."
She froze. "…Huh?"
"Explosion at the entrance."
Silence.
Then—"That's—wait—" she shook her head slightly. "Isn't that dangerous? If the cave collapses wrong—"
"It is."
He didn't soften it.
"It's a risk."
A brief pause.
"One you take."
The words landed heavy. Not harsh. Just immovable.
"If you don't seal it—" his gaze didn't waver, "—you fight both sides."
No room for debate. No illusion of safety. Just choosing which risk kills you slower.
No one spoke for a moment.
Then Viole continued.
"Even if you want to clear the cave first"—"you cant."
His eyes shifted, evaluating them again.
"One blade user."
Kiran straightened instinctively.
"Too long for tight spaces. You'll hit walls. Or your allies."
Kiran's grip tightened unconsciously. "…Right."
"Two mages." His gaze flicked to Eira, then Luna. "You cast inside a cave, your margin for error disappears."
Eira flinched slightly.
"Your spells hit wrong—" a brief beat, "—you hit them."
Silence.
"One ranger."
Rath.
"Not enough distance. Limited angle. Reduced effectiveness."
Rath exhaled slowly. "…So we're basically useless in a cave."
"No."
Viole corrected him immediately.
"You're disadvantaged."
A small difference. But a critical one.
Then he paused. Just for a moment.
Luna spoke, soft and careful. "…What if there are survivors?"
And when he spoke again, his voice didn't change—but something underneath it did.
"If there are captives…"
A beat.
"They're in the cave."
Luna's fingers tightened around her staff.
"That's how goblins reproduce."
No hesitation. No attempt to soften it.
"And by the time you find them—"
He stopped.
Not for effect.
Just because that was where the sentence ended.
"…most don't make it."
Silence followed. Heavier this time.
"In that case, don't rush in."
Her brows furrowed. "But if we wait—"
"You clear the settlement first," Viole said, voice even. "Then call reinforcements."
A brief pause.
"Removing rubble is easier than fighting from two sides."
Logic. Cold. But not wrong.
Kiran shifted. "What if… no one comes?"
There it was. The real fear.
Not the goblins. Not the cave.
Being alone when it matters.
Viole looked at him directly.
"If we go in blind—" a beat, "—we die first."
No emotion. No hesitation.
"Then no one gets saved."
That landed harder than anything else so far.
Because it wasn't strategy.
It was consequence.
Then—movement.
Subtle. Deliberate.
Viole reached behind him and drew two daggers. Short. Balanced. Clean. He brought them forward without flourish.
"If it comes to that…" a brief pause, "there's still a way."
Rath leaned slightly forward. "…How?"
"Gas."
Simple.
"Pepper gas works best."
Eira blinked. "…Gas bombs?"
"Yes."
He held one dagger loosely, demonstrating without thinking.
"Throw them inside. The captives won't die."
A brief glance toward Luna.
"They'll suffer. But they'll live."
Then—
"It will flush out the goblins inside."
Understanding spread. Slow, but steady.
"They come out—" Rath finished quietly, "—and we kill them outside."
Viole nodded once. "Exactly."
He shifted the dagger slightly.
"You don't throw from the entrance."
That caught them.
"…What?"
"You step in," he said. A beat. "Far enough."
My attention sharpened.
Ah.
There it is.
"Otherwise the gas won't spread properly."
He rotated the dagger once in his hand.
"If something's inside—" a small, precise motion, "—you deal with it before it gets close."
Short blade. Tight space. No wasted movement.
"Or you throw."
The implication was clear. Lethal. Efficient. No hesitation.
"Even after they come out—" his gaze hardened slightly, "—don't relax."
The dagger lowered.
"That's what secondary weapons are for."
He didn't say it outright.
He didn't need to.
Silence followed.
But it wasn't empty anymore.
It was focused. Grounded. Real.
Then—
"Any questions?"
Everyone shook their head.
"Let's move."
No dramatic finish. No rallying speech.
Just action.
—
The shop smelled faintly of chemicals. Sharp. Bitter. Lingering.
Viole didn't hesitate.
"Pepper gas bombs."
The merchant nodded and reached immediately.
Five. Small. Sealed. Compact.
Viole paid without bargaining.
Of course he did.
Efficiency over coins.
I noticed the others watching. Not questioning. Not interrupting.
Just—
understanding.
Good.
They were learning.
—
Verdant Hollow welcomed us.
Quiet. Alive. Watching.
Viole didn't stop. Didn't rush either.
First—
herbs.
Same area. Same patches.
His movements were efficient. Familiar. He didn't need to search. Didn't need to think. He just collected.
Clean. Precise.
Done.
Then we moved deeper.
Toward the settlement.
—
"Stop."
They froze immediately.
Good reflex.
"Scout."
Low voice. Controlled.
We moved. Careful. Quiet. Observing.
And there it was.
The cave.
Not far. Close enough.
Too close to ignore.
I felt it again—that subtle shift.
Confirmation.
Viole turned slightly.
"…We seal it."
No arguments this time.
Just readiness.
Eira stepped forward. Hands raised.
Fire gathered.
Wind followed.
Unstable. Raw. Unrefined.
Viole watched.
Didn't interrupt. Didn't correct.
He let her do it.
The spell formed—
Then released.
—
The explosion hit harder than expected. Louder. Sharper.
The ground shook. Dust burst outward. Stone cracked—
and collapsed.
For a moment—
silence.
Then—
noise.
From the settlement.
Alert. Immediate.
Of course.
Viole didn't hesitate.
"Formation."
The word cut clean through the noise.
No hesitation. No buildup.
Just movement.
Viole stepped forward slightly, positioning himself just ahead of the group—not far, just enough to define the line. The others reacted a fraction too slow, but they moved.
Good enough.
"Rath."
She snapped to attention immediately.
"Up."
A single word. Enough.
She didn't question it. Already moving, already climbing. Light. Efficient. Boots barely making a sound against bark as she scaled the nearest tree.
Smart choice of terrain.
The area wasn't dense forest—more of a broken clearing. The cave entrance sat embedded into a low rocky rise to their right, jagged stone forming a natural wall behind it. In front, the land sloped outward into uneven ground, scattered with trees, shrubs, and patches of exposed roots. Limited cover, but enough to work with.
And more importantly—
Enough elevation.
Rath reached a stable branch, crouching low. Her gaze swept the treeline, then the shifting brush beyond.
A beat.
Then—
"—Around fifty!" her voice cut through from above. "Maybe more—hard to tell, they're still moving!"
Fifty.
The number settled in.
Eira stiffened. Luna's grip tightened around her staff.
Kiran—
Shaking.
Subtle. But visible.
Viole noticed.
Of course he did.
He turned slightly, just enough to bring them into his line of sight.
No raised voice. No urgency.
Just weight.
"Goblins don't hold formation."
A pause. Letting it sink in.
"They rush. They swarm. They break."
His gaze settled on Kiran.
"You only panic if they don't."
Kiran blinked. The words catching, forcing their way through the fear.
Viole stepped closer—not into his space, but close enough to anchor him.
"Your main job isn't to kill all of them."
A beat.
"It's to stop them from reaching her."
A slight tilt of his head toward Luna.
Simple.
Clear.
Kiran's grip on his sword steadied. Not fully. But enough.
"Don't overextend."
The words came sharper this time. Directed.
"Stay in range. Intercept anything that gets through."
His eyes didn't leave Kiran.
"If you chase—" a brief pause, "—you create a gap."
And gaps—
get people killed.
Kiran swallowed. Then nodded.
"…Got it."
Viole shifted his attention.
"Rath."
"On it!"
"Priority is information. Call movements. Numbers. Flanks." A brief pause. "Take down ranged units."
"Got it!"
Bow users.
Not rare.
Not harmless.
"Eira."
She flinched slightly at being called, but held.
"Your explosion spell."
She blinked. "…Y-Yes?"
"Don't aim at them."
A pause.
Then—
"Aim above."
Confusion flickered across her face.
"Like a catapult," Viole continued, already moving his hand slightly, tracing the arc in the air. "Let it drop into them."
Realization followed. Slow—but it came.
"…Area damage."
"Yes."
His tone remained flat.
"One spell. Multiple targets."
More efficient.
Less pressure on the front.
Eira nodded, more firmly this time.
"I—I can do that."
"Do it consistently."
No praise. Just expectation.
Then—
"Luna."
She straightened instinctively.
"You're the anchor."
A beat.
"If you fall—everyone follows."
No softening. No comfort.
Just truth.
"Stay behind them. Close enough to reach both."
Her fingers tightened slightly around her staff—but she nodded.
"…Understood."
Viole gave a single nod.
Then—
It began.
The first goblins broke through the treeline.
Small. Fast. Twisted figures, crude weapons in hand. Rusted blades. Jagged spears. Some with bows already drawn.
Uncoordinated.
But numerous.
Rath's voice came from above, sharp and immediate.
"Left flank—ten! More behind them!"
An arrow followed her call. Clean. Direct.
One goblin dropped before it even reached the clearing.
Good.
"Front—twenty!"
They were rushing now.
Chaotic. Loud. Screeching.
But not organized.
Just like he said.
"Hold."
Viole didn't raise his voice.
Didn't need to.
Kiran planted his feet.
The first goblin reached him—wild swing, no technique.
He blocked.
Clumsy—but solid.
Didn't chase.
Good.
Another came.
Then another.
Viole moved.
Not flashy. Not dramatic.
Just efficient.
A step. A cut.
One down.
Another.
Clean.
Behind them—
"Now!"
Eira released her spell.
Fire surged upward—not forward.
Then dropped.
The explosion landed just beyond the first wave.
The impact scattered them.
Several went down immediately. Others stumbled. Burned. Disoriented.
A gap formed.
Exactly as intended.
"Again."
Viole didn't look back.
Didn't need to.
"I—I'm casting!"
Good.
Rath's voice again—
"Ranged units—right side, three!"
Arrows followed. Precise.
One missed.
Two hit.
The third—
Viole shifted.
A dagger flew.
Fast.
Straight.
The goblin dropped before it could loose its arrow.
Silence didn't exist here.
Only motion.
Only pressure.
But—
It was controlled.
Kiran held the line.
Barely.
But he held.
Luna moved behind them, staff glowing faintly as she worked—small heals, quick corrections, keeping them standing.
No panic casting.
Good.
Viole noticed.
Noted.
Adjusted.
Another wave pushed forward.
Closer this time.
Denser.
"Don't step forward."
A reminder.
Kiran almost did.
Stopped himself.
Good.
The line held.
Eira's next explosion landed slightly off—too far right.
Less effective.
Viole noticed.
But said nothing.
Not now.
Correction comes later.
Survival comes first.
More goblins poured in from the treeline.
And from the side.
Closer to the cave.
That confirmed it.
This—
was their base.
"Left side building!"
Rath called out.
"More incoming from near the cave!"
Of course they were.
Viole adjusted his stance slightly.
Not retreating.
Not advancing.
Holding.
Controlling.
Fifty goblins.
Maybe more.
But numbers alone didn't decide fights.
Position did.
And right now—
they had it.