After Baelor spoke, silence settled for a moment. It was heavy, filled with the weight of words not yet spoken. San stood opposite the Commander, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the man who weighed every syllable before uttering it.

  "You're saying we killed the supervisor."

  "I'm not saying anything. I'm stating a fact."

  "Self-defense. One hundred percent."

  San's voice wasn't loud. There was no clear defiance in it. It was merely a declaration, as if he were writing words in the air to become part of the record. He knew justification didn't change the truth, but he also knew that the way the truth was told was what determined whether you became a hero or a criminal.

  Baelor nodded slowly. His eyes didn't leave San.

  "I don't doubt your words. The supervisor deserved death in many ways. But that's not what matters." He paused for a moment, then spoke in a lower voice: "The problem is that the supervisor wasn't killed by a curse."

  San understood immediately. The killing wasn't the issue. The killer was.

  "How strong are the political connections he has?"

  Baelor exhaled a long breath. He suddenly seemed older.

  "Unfortunately, not just political. Military. His brother is a ruler like me, of a city whose soldier count is in the tens of thousands. And his brother's wife... her father is also the ruler of another city." He paused to let the words sink in. "When we send them his corpse, killed by a human, they won't stop for a moment to believe that four E-rank fighters killed a C-rank combatant. Their thinking will lean elsewhere."

  "The ruler who exposed his corrupt records," San completed.

  "Yes." Baelor's eyes met his. "You led to his sentencing and exile to the academy. I have no doubt they might even use the excuse that I killed him, to attack the city under the guise of revenge."

  Silence fell. Shin was watching San, waiting.

  "What are you planning to deter that?" Baelor asked. It wasn't a test question. It was the question of a man who found himself in a dark corner, searching for an exit.

  "My city has no B-rank fighters. Militarily, it's weaker than the other cities. Its location, so close to the outskirts, leaves it exposed to curse attacks, unstable." Baelor spoke, pain hidden in his voice. "But despite this, the other cities never thought of doing anything similar. For one simple reason."

  He paused.

  "In this city, an A-rank fighter was born. He reached a high stage of power. Perhaps he's the strongest A-rank fighter in all the human kingdoms." A bitter smile traced his lips. "Attempting to attack the city with him present... just thinking about the casualties makes such an act utterly stupid."

  "But he's not here now," San said.

  It wasn't a question. It was a conclusion.

  "Is he dead?"

  "No." Baelor shook his head slowly. "But he's far away. He volunteered to fight against the Western Kingdom." He paused. Sighed. "We, Mr. San, have been at war for four years. Four years ago he left... and we haven't heard anything from him since."

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  A moment passed. Then San spoke, his voice calm as still water:

  "This may sound arrogant... but I'm intelligent."

  Baelor looked at him.

  "Do you want my opinion?"

  Baelor nodded.

  "Don't hand over the body," San said. "Hand it over after several weeks."

  Shin intervened immediately, his voice low but sharp:

  "They'll know he died weeks ago. That will make things worse."

  San smiled.

  Everyone looked at him.

  "Of course not," San said, his smile not fading. "I can make the body... delayed in its analysis. I can make it appear as if its owner was killed only a day ago, while he's been dead for weeks."

  Silence returned, but it was different this time. It wasn't the silence of ignorance, but of appreciation.

  "If I do this... do you agree to the first part of my plan?"

  Baelor looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded.

  "Continue."

  San took a deep breath. He knew the next words would determine everything.

  "I need to know the terrain of the region. In detail. Every inch, every elevation, every depression, every narrow passage. I'll need it to set up traps. Traps that can be activated remotely, easily detonated by us." He paused. "That's the second part."

  He didn't wait for a response.

  "The third part: before sending the body, I want it taken to a herd of curses. Any herd. Doesn't matter. The important thing is that the curses tear it apart, or at least make it appear torn apart. Then, after that, we send it to them."

  Silence.

  The plan was brutal. It was cold. It was logical.

  Baelor didn't speak for a long time. His fingers were on his temple, his eyes on the table, tracing an invisible line. He was weighing probabilities, calculating losses, measuring risks.

  Then he said:

  "We'll do what you say."

  Clarissa, who had been silent the entire time, raised her head. She looked at her father. Her voice was calm, but there was something in it that hadn't been there before:

  "Are you sure?"

  Baelor looked at her. Then at San.

  "Yes." His voice was sharp, decisive. "San's plan is good."

  San said, as if reading a shopping list:

  "Then, Mr. Baelor, I need components today. Urgently. I'll make an anti-decomposition agent for the corpse from them. I'll also need..."

  He stopped.

  He looked at Shin. At Elena. At his own hands.

  "...I want something in return."

  Baelor waited.

  "I want you to train us. To make us stronger." San's eyes met the Commander's. "That's the compensation I want."

  A short silence. Then Baelor nodded. You can train, and you will get everything—knowledge, the best methods. If you wish, you can even live here and not worry about drink, food, or work.

  Shin said, "I don't think you're doing this out of kindness alone, Mr. Baelor." San smiled.

  Baelor looked at Shin and said, "Yes, not out of kindness alone. But because of your capabilities. In this world, more than half do not possess abilities. No matter how hard they train, their strength peaks at D-rank. And if they are extremely lucky, train intensely, and have resources available, their rank might reach C—like my daughter. She does not possess an ability. Those who do not possess an ability have twice the cursed energy of ordinary users. They are called Enhancers. They become faster, stronger, and have high control over their energy. But crossing into C-rank is usually achieved through equipment, or some of them have more energy than the rest of the Enhancers.

  "As for C-rank and above, they are usually those with abilities. And seated above them are those with special abilities—abilities not tied to the four natural elements. Like your strange ability, San. What you did to the guards, or to the monster at the end—it is a special ability. Or what Elena did—controlling her blood—a special ability. As for Shin, he does not possess a special ability, but he has a promising future.

  "Stay here. Be here. With one simple condition: that you become protectors of the city in the future. Its guardians."

  San said, "Guardians for you?"

  Baelor answered, "For me as well, but the foundation is guardians for the city. Your future will be secured now. Of course, there is the option to refuse and become adventurers, or seek other work."

  San thought. Baelor is not only intelligent—he has prepared matters for the distant future. Any one of us who reaches B-rank, or even A-rank, would secure the city's safety for many years to come. I want to live my life differently, but I have always thought that the heroes in novels are not intelligent—they choose difficult paths. I am not like that.

  San looked up and said, "I will agree. But you must provide everything for us. In addition, I will not take a job with fixed hours or the like. I will be responsible for myself, but of course, I will follow orders."

  Shin said he agreed, on the condition that they be enrolled in a good academy.

  San thought. This is intelligent. In an academy of high standing, he wouldn't just receive the best training and the best knowledge—he would secure his entire future in the best possible way.

  Elena agreed with Shin on the matter, saying in a weak voice, "I want to become stronger."

  Baelor looked at them. Then he said, "I agree."

  He stood.

  "Come with me."

  —

  Baelor led them through long corridors, far from the luxurious wings, to another part of the palace. The part that wasn't for guests. The part that was for soldiers.

  When he opened the door, Shin's eyes widened slightly. Even Elena, who had seen much, paused for a moment.

  The room exceeded two hundred meters. No, it was a true training ground, sealed tight within the palace walls. The walls were of dark stone, sound-absorbing, covered with deep scars from thousands of strikes. Hundreds of weapons hung on the walls: swords of various lengths, spears, daggers, bows, and chains. Human-shaped training dummies, some of charred wood, some of dark metal, and some seeming made of unbreakable stone. In the corners, areas dedicated to different drills: sand pits for movement, obstacles for jumping and climbing, massive stone weights stacked in one corner.

  The smell here was different. It wasn't the scent of luxury or perfume. It was the smell of sweat, effort, and dried blood. A real smell.

  He looked at the three, one by one. And Baelor said:

  "Begin whenever you wish. You will be taught everything here."