The escort was so tight it felt like the air itself got pressed down—like the world had been told to shut up. Rome and Mary were guided in close behind him, almost heel-to-heel.
The door closed.
Not long after, the six soldiers who had followed in behind filed back out, one by one, until only four people remained in the room:
King Odinir.
Duke Marshall.
And, by special summons, Rome and Mary.
Odinir dropped into his chair like someone had finally cut the strings holding him upright.
It wasn’t the elegant kind of sitting. It was the kind you did when your body simply gave up negotiating. His shoulders slumped. He pulled in a deep, long breath. Eyes that had been sharp and commanding in the hall now looked dulled over with exhaustion.
Mary didn’t wait for anyone to speak.
She stepped closer, her gaze scanning him the way a healer’s eyes did—catching the strain that had been crushing him for a long time, the kind of body-wear that came from too many days without real sleep. She lifted a hand and cast Heal.
A faint, gentle light seeped into the king’s body like warm water, soft and quiet.
It didn’t restore him in an instant. It didn’t magically erase the fatigue in one flashy burst. But Odinir did look a little better. His breathing steadied. The tension in his face—so tight it had looked ready to crack—loosened, just a fraction.
“Thank you… Your would-be Archbishop.”
Odinir’s voice came out low.
Mary answered immediately, polite but firm.
“It’s alright. And you don’t have to call me that. Just call me Mary.”
Odinir gave a small nod. Then his expression turned serious again, like he’d flipped a switch in his head and forced himself out of rest mode.
“Alright. Then we’ll get straight to it. What I said earlier that they haven’t moved… was a lie.”
He said it bluntly.
“The truth is, our informants have reported activity along the border between Alf and Muspel. But the ambient magic density in that zone is too intense, so they couldn’t get in close enough to investigate properly.”
Rome jerked like the news had been thrown right into his face.
“What Wait… e-excuse me, Your Majesty… you mean they’ve started moving?”
“Drop the formalities,”
Odinir cut in at once.
“Speak normally. No one can hear us in here.”
Rome froze for a moment—like he’d just been officially granted permission to set the ceremonial mask down for real.
Mary went straight to the point.
“And the reason you asked the two of us in here… what is it, exactly?”
Odinir lifted his head and looked at them both. His eyes were tired, yes—but there was a clarity in them that said he was staking something on this. Something big.
“In this kingdom… your party is the strongest adventuring party, isn’t it?”
He paused for a beat, then continued in a voice that sounded like he’d already accepted how unfair this request was—like he was asking for help from people who shouldn’t have to carry this kind of burden.
“I just want to ask for your cooperation… I want to borrow your strength. All seven of you. I need your help with this.”
The room fell silent at once—as if the words borrow your strength weighed far more than they sounded.
“The help you’re asking for… what exactly do you mean?”
Romeo asked immediately.
His tone was controlled, deliberately neutral, but his eyes were sharp—measuring the weight behind that request, calculating what borrow really meant in the mouth of a king.
Odinir leaned back against the chair a little. His expression was the face of someone who didn’t want to say this—yet had no choice but to finish it, here, in this room.
“If something happens… can I ask you to be the front line?”
Odinir said it plainly.
“To meet the Demon Lord’s army head-on. Alongside our bravest soldiers.”
He stopped for only a fraction of a second, then his voice grew heavier—more resolute.
“Honestly, most soldiers if you measure them by adventurer ranks—would only be around Rank C or Rank B. Very few would even qualify as Rank A.”
Odinir continued.
“And those who do… usually belong to some organization. They won’t abandon their affiliations so easily. You saw it yourselves in the great hall… people are already starting to panic.”
Mary listened, then nodded once. When she spoke, it was calm—structured, like she’d already begun mapping the logistics in her head.
“If we have time to prepare, it should be possible. Gather the forces, organize the formation then have us act as the core leadership.”
“Exactly.”
Odinir answered immediately, like he’d been waiting for her to say that.
“As for the rest, we’ll ask for cooperation from the Adventurers’ Guild to help pull in additional manpower. We can treat it as an official contract for the Guild if we have to.”
He lifted a hand slightly, a subtle gesture—like he didn’t want the discussion to scatter in too many directions.
“But that part… I’d rather have my own people negotiate with the Guild directly.”
Romeo flicked a glance at Mary, then turned back to Odinir.
“Then we’ll need to speak with the others… should we call them in for a meeting right away?”
“If you can, that’d be best,”
Odinir replied without hesitation.
“Let’s do this tomorrow morning. Have all seven of you meet with me.”
His gaze shifted to Mary, the look carrying quiet trust—like he was placing something fragile in her hands.
“I’m leaving it to you. No problems, right?”
“Shouldn’t be,”
Mary answered confidently.
“I’ll inform the other party members myself.”
The room almost seemed ready to loosen—almost.
But before it could, Duke Marshall cut in. His voice was calm, even, yet the timing alone pressed the silence back down over the room.
“There’s one issue, Your Majesty.”
Odinir turned to him.
“What is it, Marshall?”
“One of the adventurers in their party is Valda she is a Grand Alchemical Smith,”
Duke Marshall stated clearly.
“She’s currently under penalty. She is forbidden from entering the royal palace grounds.”
Odinir’s brow furrowed.
“That’s a thing?”
“It’s… a long story,”
Duke Marshall replied, the tone of a man who had absolutely no desire to dig up old trouble right now.
Odinir waved a hand, like he’d decided to cut the entire knot in one motion.
“Then forget it. I’m revoking her penalty. Get the paperwork done by today.”
He turned back to the two of them.
“And tomorrow… bring everyone in your party to see me. We’ll meet and make our plan.”
When the informal discussion ended, they left the room in order. Outside, the soldiers resumed their posts as if nothing had happened at all—as if the door hadn’t just closed on the kind of conversation that could change the fate of a kingdom.
But just before he stepped past the doorway, Romeo paused—only slightly—and addressed Duke Marshall in the polite, well-practiced tone he’d been raised with since childhood.
“Father… you still look as strong as ever.”
The moment they stepped out into the corridor, the atmosphere snapped back into ceremony.
Guards and soldiers stood at their posts, perfectly placed like pieces on a board. And with them there, every word automatically felt like something you had to choose carefully—even if you didn’t mean it to be.
Duke Marshall turned to look at Romeo. His voice was even, flat—yet somehow loaded with something beneath it.
“You, on the other hand… seem to be enjoying your adventures.”
Romeo gave a faint smile in response.
And then his eyes caught two figures waiting nearby.
Two men in noble-knight attire—both carrying that unmistakable Alfonso aura in their stance alone, like the family name had weight and gravity of its own.
“My two elder brothers… you both look well,”
Romeo greeted them.
The eldest, Adrien Francis Alfonso, answered at once—his tone light, almost teasing.
“And you? Where’ve you been running off to?”
“Traveling for quests,”
Romeo replied simply.
“The ones we took from the Guild.”
Douglas Francis Alfonso, the second brother, stepped a little closer. As he spoke, he lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across his own adamantite armor—right over the chest plate, where a clear impact mark had been left.
It wasn’t the kind of old wear that came from time. It was the kind of scar you got when you’d actually been hit—more than once.
“By the way… Valda’s still in your party, isn’t she?”
Romeo froze for only a fraction of a second before answering, his voice carefully measured—kept at a respectful distance.
“She’s doing fine.”
Before the conversation could flow any further, Duke Marshall cut in—decisive, absolute—like he had no intention of letting anything disturb the day’s order.
“Enough. Talk later. We have duties to attend to.”
He turned to issue instructions to the guards, then shot Romeo a warning look—sharp and unmistakable—before adding a short final line.
“You have duties as well, Romeo.”
With that, Duke Marshall immediately moved on, following King Odinir without another pause.
Meanwhile, back at the Guild, the atmosphere was just as lively as ever.
Laughter and chatter blended into one constant buzz—
the bored ones killing time because they had nothing better to do,
the ones lining up to take quests,
the serious groups leaning over maps and arguing strategy in low voices,
and the regulars clinging to the edge of the counter, pretending to “ask for information” when their true objective was obviously to flirt with the female staff.
And of course…
There was Sight—hosting a full-on drinking circle in broad daylight with adventurers from other parties, completely unbothered by the concept of time, responsibility, or basic human shame. It was as if sunlight was just another seasoning that made the liquor taste smoother.
On the other side, Valda was carefully checking the items she’d bought in Oakspell, inspecting each one with methodical precision. Every so often, her bag would wiggle—like something inside was itching to pop out and see the world.
Valda immediately pressed a hand down to stop it.
The Guild was far too crowded. If Michan—an undead mimic—came tumbling out without warning, people could very easily panic.
Earp sat quietly, letting his eyes drift over the room. He didn’t look like someone in a hurry to do anything.
Without realizing it, he found himself thinking about Mash’s cooking again.
Then he lowered his gaze to the fried chicken in front of him. It was pretty good—honestly. But compared to Mash’s food…
It might as well have come from a completely different world.
As for Ace, he was still arguing with Lily like neither of them had any intention of backing down—about the same topic as always, for reasons nobody could ever understand, yet somehow it always reignited like dry tinder.
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t work. The author just made it up for fun,”
Ace shot back, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.
“It does work! The protagonist in the story can use it!”
Lily snapped instantly, like Ace had just insulted her entire magical lineage.
“He can do whatever he wants because it’s fiction!”
Ace fired back just as fast.
“It’s based on real events! Why don’t you understand that?!”
Lily refused to retreat even an inch.
“He thought it up. It’s not an actual spell,”
Ace tried to explain, forcing logic into the battlefield.
“How could he just think it up?! Even the spellbooks I studied were written from real things!”
Lily insisted with absolute confidence.
“That’s because those are spellbooks textbooks. They’re for learning!”
Ace argued, already looking like his head was starting to hurt.
“And I learned from what the manga author said!”
Lily shot back without missing a beat.
The Guild’s noise—constant as a city’s background hum—suddenly vanished.
Like someone had pressed mute on the entire room.
Two people had just walked in.
Their clothing was understated yet unmistakably refined—completely unlike what most adventurers were used to seeing in this place. The guards at the entrance were about to step forward and check them, but they were immediately ordered to stand down.
The pair walked straight in.
Not hurried. Not slow.
They moved with the kind of pace that didn’t need to prove anything—until they stopped at Ace’s table at the exact same time.
Romeo and Mary.
In a look the Guild rarely got to see.
Everyone here knew who they were, of course. But in the world of adventurers, reputation alone didn’t decide everything.
Skill did.
Little by little, the Guild returned to normal. Voices rose again—talking, laughter, the clink of glasses against wood—like nothing had happened. The soldiers who’d been called in to keep order drifted back to their posts.
Until the area around this table was left with only Ace’s group—everyone gathered, complete.
Mary and Romeo sat down first.
Then they explained everything—condensed and simplified as much as possible, so everyone could grasp it fast.
“What… wait the Demon Lord?!”
Ace blurted it out louder than he meant to.
Mary snapped her head toward him.
“Lower your voice. People will hear. They specifically told us not to cause a panic.”
Ace immediately raised both hands in surrender, but his face still looked like it had been punched by shock.
Valda let out a sigh, like she was chewing on irritation she couldn’t swallow.
“It’s still kind of infuriating… a new Demon Lord was born, and it’s been decades already, and none of us knew anything.”
Earp—who’d been quiet for a long time—finally spoke. His expression was serious, the look of someone staring straight at the problem ahead.
“And the meeting… having me enter the palace are we sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s the king’s order,”
Romeo answered shortly, as if cutting the entire debate down with a single line.
Valda immediately pointed at herself.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“That too… I’m banned from entering the palace, remember?”
Mary shook her head.
“No. The king already ordered your penalty revoked.”
Before the conversation could move on, Lily shot her hand up like she was stepping onto a stage to declare war.
“We should take this job! We have to take it, Ace! Getting to see the demon race is every adventurer’s dream and a legendary hero like me… I’ll take responsibility for slaying the Demon Lord myself!”
Ace narrowed his eyes at her, like he’d just spotted something deeply suspicious.
“Since when were you a hero?”
“Right here!”
Lily immediately pulled out a brand-new manga volume and thrust it up proudly.
“The newest volume of The Hero’s Legend of the Magic Valley! And if you preorder, you get a Limited Edition Hero Hat, too!”
Ace played along without missing a beat.
“Then where’s your hero hat?”
“They delivered it to my house. I didn’t bring it.”
Lily answered with a completely straight face—like this was just normal hero behavior.
Romeo let out a small sigh and yanked the entire discussion back onto the rails.
“Anyway. Bottom line we all have to go to the palace tomorrow.”
“And what are we supposed to wear?”
Ace asked at once, like his brain had finally switched back into the mode that cared about real life.
“Just normal clothes,”
Romeo replied.
“It sounds like an informal meeting.”
Mary nodded, then leaned back as if she were ready to stand.
“Alright. Then I’m heading back. Staying in this outfit too long is uncomfortable.”
“Hold it, young lady.”
Valda cut in, voice flat—yet her eyes made it clear she’d prepared for this.
“I brought spare clothes for you. And I have one for you too, Rome.”
Once she’d said it, Valda reached into her bag.
Slowly—carefully—she began placing items onto the table one by one, as if she were arranging a crafted display rather than pulling out spare clothes. Then she lifted her head and looked at Rome, the way a smith would check a work order list, not a wardrobe.
“These are the boots. The trousers. The shirt… and your armor. That should be everything for you, Rome.”
Valda said it plainly.
“Yeah. Thanks,”
Rome answered, gathering the bundle into his arms—then immediately disappearing toward the Guild’s restroom.
Valda turned back to Mary and kept pulling items out like nothing had happened.
“And yours…”
One piece after another landed on the table—fast and confident.
“Boots. Trousers. Shirt. Outer coat. Cloak. Stockings. Gloves. Protective gear…”
Valda continued, like she was reading from a list in her head without needing to look at anything written down.
“And underwear… panties.”
“W-Wait… WAIT!”
Mary shot up at once, her face turning bright red like she’d just been hit with a low-level fire spell out of nowhere.
“How can you pull something like that out here?!”
Valda paused for a beat, interrupted mid-list—yet she answered in the exact same serious tone, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“It’s standard. You have to check everything first…”
Mary didn’t let her finish.
She hurriedly scooped up the entire pile and hugged it tight to her chest, then grabbed Valda by the arm and dragged her straight toward the restroom—leaving Valda no time to explain another word.
A few minutes later, the two of them came back out again.
And somehow, everything looked exactly the same as before—clothes familiar, expressions composed—
as if absolutely nothing had happened a moment ago.
They hadn’t been talking for long when the Guild doors were suddenly shoved open—hard.
BANG!
The sound cracked through the room loud enough to make heads snap around.
A man in a knight’s armor stormed in at a dead run, ignoring Guild etiquette, ignoring the stares of everyone inside. His face was tight with urgency—like he was racing the clock itself.
“Where is the adventurer party of Jager Ace Espada?! Is Jager Espada’s party here?!”
His shout rang out so loudly the entire Guild turned as one. Some people stopped mid-sentence. Others froze with beer mugs suspended halfway to their mouths.
Ace raised a hand immediately and stood up.
“Right here. How can we help?”
The knight charged straight over, eyes locked on Ace like he needed absolute confirmation.
“Are you Jager Ace Espada?”
“Yes,”
Ace answered quickly—then, without meaning to, his expression shifted into wary suspicion.
“Don’t tell me someone went and caused trouble again.”
“Bring your whole party and come with me,”
the knight barked, not wasting time on explanations.
“His Majesty is summoning you. Immediately.”
With that, he spun on his heel and hurried back out, leaving behind a cloud of confusion that settled over Ace’s table.
The seven of them exchanged a quick look.
They still didn’t know how urgent this was—but none of them even considered refusing.
They rose together and followed out of the Guild without protest.
“Time to work,”
Sight said first.
Then he tipped back the rest of his beer in one clean gulp, wiped his mouth, and strolled after the others like nothing had happened.
By the time all seven of them reached the palace gates, chaos practically exploded on contact—like the moment you stepped into the checkpoint area, the world switched from the Guild’s messy freedom to a completely different universe made of discipline and rules.
One of the gate guards hurried forward and stepped in front of Valda. His face looked genuinely troubled—the expression of someone who actually knew her.
“Ma’am… you can’t go in, Lady Valda. Don’t you remember? I’ve known you a long time, too. If you walk through that gate… I’ll get thrown out on the spot.”
Mary quickly cut in.
“His Majesty already revoked her penalty.”
But the guard still didn’t budge. He swallowed, choosing his words like he was trying to be as polite as physically possible.
“I haven’t received that order yet, ma’am. Please… understand. I can’t let you through.”
Before Valda’s situation could even be settled, tension snapped up on the other side.
Another soldier moved toward Earp, lifting his weapon into a ready position. His eyes were hard—like he was staring down a dangerous threat.
“Kid. Back off. Someone from the Ripper family without an official written summons is forbidden from approaching the palace grounds. Absolutely.”
The air around the gate seized up as if someone had yanked an emergency brake.
Before the party could even speak, the knight who had fetched Ace’s group from the Guild hurried forward, trying to keep control of the situation.
“Let them in. They came with me.”
But the gate guard shook his head immediately, just as tense.
“I can’t, sir. Without a formal order, we truly can’t do that.”
The strictness at the palace gate wasn’t a joke. And it didn’t look like anyone wanted to be the first person to break protocol.
Then a voice rang out from behind them—clear, measured, unmistakable.
“Let them enter.”
Duke Marshall strode in, bringing a pressure so heavy that several guards unconsciously tensed their shoulders.
The same guard lowered his head at once—yet his stance didn’t change. Even his apology sounded like it was happening at the same time as his refusal.
“I’m sorry, sir, but even if it’s your command… if it isn’t a direct order from His Majesty, I truly can’t open the way.”
Silence spread.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for what came next—an argument? A punishment? An order to withdraw?
Then another voice cut through the stillness.
This time, it was firm enough that no one dared pretend they hadn’t heard it.
“Then what if I say so?”
King Odinir had come down in person.
Every soldier froze at once. Then they hurriedly steadied themselves, lowered their weapons, and complied—immediately, almost gratefully—like that was the only instruction they’d been waiting for from the very beginning.
The gates were opened.
And the seven of them walked into the royal palace—
with a welcome that made it painfully clear: this summons was not for anything trivial.
Inside the not-so-large meeting room, two unfamiliar people were already seated.
Just from their silhouettes, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were.
Elves.
Long ears. Pale skin. Wide, rounded eyes—and calm green irises that seemed steadier than most humans’.
King Odinir walked straight to the head of the table and sat down, clearly ready to begin. Ace’s party filed in after him, taking seats one by one wherever there was space.
“You all already understand what’s happening, yes?”
Odinir asked, turning toward Ace’s group.
“Yes sir. Rome and Mary briefed us,”
Ace replied.
Odinir nodded, then gestured toward the two strangers.
“These are envoys from the Kingdom of Alf. They’re the ones who brought us the report. Go ahead.”
One of the envoys spoke immediately, voice clear and straight to the point.
“Our agents who can get closest to the Muspel zone have returned with information. According to them… the demon army has moved near Alf’s border.”
“What?”
Romeo lifted his head at once.
“So they’ve already come out past Muspel’s high-density magic veil?”
he asked.
“Yes,”
the envoy continued smoothly, like he’d come prepared with every detail.
“As far as we know, they’re setting up camp along the edge of the border.”
He paused only long enough to deliver the number.
“Estimated strength… around five thousand.”
“Five thousand… that doesn’t sound like much,”
Sight said, speaking like a man weighing nothing but numbers.
Valda cut in immediately.
“It may not sound like a lot, but we have very little information about demon-kind. Not knowing what the enemy can do… is the worst possible scenario.”
Lily nodded, then added—her tone noticeably more serious than it had been during her manga argument.
“Old texts I’ve read say that a single demon if it’s the combat-capable type can be as strong as a hundred city soldiers… or at the very least, equivalent to about twenty Rank A adventurers.”
She paused.
“But the abilities of each individual demon… are still difficult to predict.”
Odinir continued at once, as if he’d already been arranging the pieces in his mind.
“I’ve read ancient records as well. Demon-kind can vary widely physical strength, intelligence… and some are even spellcasters.”
The discussion hadn’t even had time to stretch very far when something inside Valda’s bag started thrashing harder and harder—until it finally forced its way out.
Michan popped into full view.
And in what felt like a dramatic debut that was somehow both completely accidental and obnoxiously perfect, it landed right in front of the foreign envoys… right before Duke Marshall… and directly in front of the king.
A grand entrance far beyond what was necessary in every possible sense.
But instead of the room erupting into chaos, no one reacted the way they probably should have.
Especially King Odinir.
He let out a long sigh, like he’d just surrendered to yet another layer of reality.
“Haaah…”
Odinir spoke slowly.
“Fine. At this point, I don’t have time to be shocked by some… exotic pet.”
The meeting continued.
The Alf envoy remained the main source of intelligence, and his voice grew even clearer—like he didn’t want anyone in the room missing a single critical word.
“The real reason we requested an audience with King Odinir… is to ask for cooperation.”
He paused briefly, then delivered the numbers that made the air instantly heavier.
“From the distance, we estimate that if they begin marching, it will take no more than seven days for them to reach the border walls of the Kingdom of Alf. With that timeframe, we cannot evacuate our entire kingdom in time. So we’ve come to request assistance under the treaty.”
King Odinir nodded and took over immediately, as if reading out the conclusion for everyone in the room.
“The treaty states that if an incident involves demon-kind or a Demon Lord, every kingdom bound by the agreement must assemble forces and send aid to the kingdom currently facing the threat.”
Valda’s brow tightened slightly. She calculated fast, then spoke bluntly.
“But moving an army takes time. If we send a full-scale force… it’ll take roughly two weeks.”
The envoy flinched a little.
“Then… we won’t make it in time?”
Odinir’s voice was calm, but heavy enough to settle in your bones.
“A small force might arrive in seven days barely, by the skin of its teeth. But a large army… won’t make it. Not a chance.”
The silence in the room thickened again.
Everyone seemed to be weighing the same terrifying question—
if time couldn’t be met with marching… what would they have to trade to buy it?
Ace decided to speak first.
He lifted a hand slightly—like someone making a proper proposal in a real meeting.
“Then let us go ahead first. We’ll work with Alf’s forces to hold the demon army back and keep them from advancing. While we’re doing that, have the remaining troops evacuate civilians from the area as fast as possible.”
The envoy turned to him immediately, hesitation flickering across his face.
“But wouldn’t that… be too risky?”
“No,”
Ace replied quickly.
“We don’t have to win. We just need to cause enough chaos that they get confused so their forces can’t properly consolidate. Basically… we stall them. Buy time.”
At that moment, Lily—who’d been listening in silence—slowly raised her hand, like she was about to throw down a decisive finishing move.
“That works. I actually have a plan.”
Everyone turned to look at her at the exact same time without needing to coordinate.
Because whenever the word plan came from Lily’s mouth, it was almost never normal.
Lily began explaining at once.
“First, the envoy needs to return to Alf as quickly as possible. Fewer people travel faster, so go with a small group. Tell them what we’re going to do.”
She paused briefly, then pointed directly at the core of it.
“Here, we use the next seven days to gather soldiers whose level is equivalent to Rank A adventurers emphasis on Rank A and above only.”
She hadn’t even finished when a voice cut in immediately, like it already knew exactly where this was going.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to use that,”
Ace said.
“Yes,”
Lily answered without the slightest hesitation.
“To pull it off, anyone who goes through has to be Rank A or higher. Anything below that… will get turned into mush. Seriously.”
King Odinir lifted a brow, clearly puzzled.
“And what exactly is ‘that’?”
Lily replied at once, as if she’d been waiting to be asked.
“A teleportation spell… Bifrost.”
Her voice was firm—confident, like the whole thing had already been calculated down to the last detail.
“We go first to stall them. Then, once we’ve gathered the Rank A-level troops here, we come back in seven days to pick them up and hit the Demon Lord’s army at full force, without needing a massive marching army.”
Lily laid out the plan point by point.
King Odinir leaned forward slightly, making sure everyone was on the same page.
“So you’re saying you’ll go first… then return to pick up the remaining troops in seven days. Correct?”
“Correct,”
Lily answered immediately.
Sight, who’d been sitting with his arms crossed the whole time, raised an eyebrow.
“But how will Alf even know what we’re doing? It’ll take the envoy at least two days to get back even on a fast horse without stopping.”
The Alf envoy received the question like he’d been ready for it.
“That won’t be a problem. We brought several high-ranking mages with us. We’ll have them use Bifrost to send me back as well.”
“I can do it,”
Lily offered at once, as if she were about to snatch the task for herself.
The envoy shook his head politely.
“No, thank you. You should conserve your strength. Casting Bifrost even once consumes a tremendous amount of mana.”
He paused briefly, then added one more request.
“After that… please allow the others to rest here first.”
Ace looked around at his teammates, then asked bluntly—like he wanted the timeline nailed down.
“So when are we going? Today?”
“Not yet,”
King Odinir cut in at once.
“We need to prepare the plan properly.”
“Right,”
Valda added, practical as ever.
“We need equipment. At the very least, it’ll be tomorrow morning.”
The envoy nodded, as if that settled it.
“Understood. Then I’ll return to report to Alf first. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
With that, he stood and left immediately—no hesitation, as if every minute had a price tag.
“Then let’s go get ready,”
Ace said.
King Odinir didn’t object.
He turned to Duke Marshall at once and issued orders in a smooth sequence—like he was dropping tasks into a system already primed to execute.
Duke Marshall was to relay commands to Captain of the Royal Guard, Gunnar: assemble, as quickly as possible, soldiers whose combat level matched Rank A adventurers.
The night that followed was suffocating—but it passed quickly, as if everyone was forcing themselves to close their eyes and sleep as much as they could.
Even so, their minds refused to let go.
Seven days.
Five thousand.
The numbers circled endlessly, fading and returning like a stubborn afterimage.
All seven party members prepared themselves thoroughly—checking gear, checking weapons, checking supplies—no one daring to be careless.
Not just because death was a possibility.
But because this was a mission they could not afford to fail.
Until morning came.
Ace stepped out of his room like he always did. His hand reached for the bastard sword leaning by the door—
but the moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, he froze.
Like something had just clicked in his head.
Without a word, he set it back down. Then he turned around and went back inside.
A moment later, Ace emerged again—this time carrying a different blade.
A brand-new Grand Sword Valda had forged for him.
He tightened his grip slightly, gave a small nod to himself like a decision had finally settled into place… and walked on.
Not long after, all seven of them gathered at the palace gates.
King Odinir, Duke Marshall, and the royal guards were already waiting. The morning air felt unnaturally still—quieter than it ever should have been—like everyone there understood that once they crossed this line…
there would be no more we’ll do it later.
When everything was ready, Lily spread a map open and clearly marked the coordinates of Alf’s border wall. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if centering herself—
then began chanting in a voice pressed low, yet heavy, like a proclamation.
“O Sevenfold Jewels of the Sky… cast forth the arcane bridge—cross the veil of clouds and the borders of dimensions.
Carry the invincible mortal host,soaring upon the path of divine conveyance, crush distance beneath the covenant of light…
Now! Let the seven colors blaze, proclaim the royal decree here, before me!”
The breath in that place seemed to be held all at once.
“BIFROST!!!”
The soldiers at the gate stared in open shock—along with the mages of Alf who had come to see them off.
Those mages were the very group who had needed fourteen people to cast this spell yesterday… and then had to rest afterward just to recover their mana.
Yet Lily had cast it—
alone.
Light exploded in a single flash.
A breathtaking rainbow magic circle unfolded beneath the seven of them, layered with intricate patterns—overlapping, three-dimensional, impossibly complex.
It shone for no more than a heartbeat.
Then it vanished without leaving so much as a trace—
taking the seven of them with it.
“I can only hope this plan goes well…”
King Odinir murmured to himself.
And then everything blinked out—
as the rainbow light swallowed the party whole, disappearing them in an instant.
The seven of them reappeared on hard, unforgiving ground.
Loose stones—big and small—were scattered everywhere. The air carried the scent of dry earth mixed with a faint haze of smoke.
And the fog…
The fog was thicker than normal—so thick they could barely see anything in front of them.
“Uh… it’s weirdly cold,”
Ace said quietly, like he was trying to keep the situation sounding normal.
Lily didn’t answer.
She crouched down, unfolded the map, and checked the coordinates again—then again. She flipped it back and forth for a while, as if trying to figure out what part of the world they were even standing on.
Then she lifted her head with an expression that clearly did not want to accept reality.
“Guys… I think I warped us a little off-target.”
Lily said it out loud.
“Again?!”
Ace groaned immediately.
“How many times has it been now?”
Sight—who looked like he’d already developed immunity to this level of chaos—asked without wasting time.
“Fine. How far are we from the actual target?”
“Uhhh… not sure,”
Lily admitted, glancing at the fog that was so dense it looked like a wall.
“But probably not far… and this fog is awful. I can’t see anything.”
“Everyone.”
Mary’s voice rose—soft, controlled. She didn’t complain, didn’t scream, didn’t panic.
But that one word made the entire party jolt at once.
“Look around.”
They all turned immediately.
As if the fog had heard her command, it began to thin—little by little.
The hidden scene ahead slowly revealed itself…
Campfires scattered across the area.
Field tents lined up in rows.
The murmur of voices. The light clink of metal on metal. The smell of smoke growing stronger by the second.
It looked like a military camp—
but not Alf’s.
Because the beings moving around those fires were clearly not human, and not elves either.
Some were bizarrely huge. Some were small, but their fangs were razor-sharp. Some had claws that extended far past their hands.
And some…
licked their own bodies from head to toe with their tongues like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Ace swallowed and turned to Lily—slowly.
“This… isn’t ‘a little off-target’ anymore, Lily-chan…”
When the view in front of them became too clear to deny, all seven of them shouted in unison without meaning to—
“WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DEMON ARMYYYYYYY!!”