The ground began to tremble before the sound arrived. At first, it was a subtle vibration in the soles of their boots, rhythmic and dull. Then, the low rumble of thunder rolled across the open field, growing louder with every heartbeat, cutting through the quiet stillness of the dawn.
Hoofbeats. Hundreds of them. A plume of dust rose against the horizon, turning gold in the first light of morning. From that cloud emerged a formation of steel—heavy cavalry, their armor polished to a mirror sheen, their lances held perfectly vertical. They didn’t slow down until the last second, pulling to a halt with a unified crash of metal and the snorting of warhorses. The smell of horse sweat and oiled leather washed over the exhausted party, overpowering the scent of grass.
In the center of the formation, flanked by the most heavily armored knights, sat a carriage. It was large, ornate, and built like a fortress on wheels.
The door swung open. From the dark interior, a man stepped down onto the grass. The lord was not young, but he moved with the precise, controlled power of a warrior in his prime. His back was perfectly straight, his posture radiating an absolute, crushing authority. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and utterly devoid of warmth. His presence pressed down on the air itself, heavier than the gravity of the planet.
The lord scanned the gathered group once—a single, sweeping gaze that took in every injury, every weapon, every drop of blood. It was an appraisal. A judgment. That single look was enough to make the adventurers’ shoulders tighten instinctively.
“…I do not recognize any of you.” His voice was low, but it carried across the grass with effortless clarity, silencing the wind.
“Huh? I’ve never seen your face either, pal.” Naz snorted, stepping forward. He wiped a smudge of dirt from his cheek, his movements deliberately casual, a rebel’s defiance against the suffocating atmosphere.
The knights’ hands drifted toward their sword hilts. The lord’s brow twitched—a microscopic flicker of annoyance. But then, his expression smoothed, his voice softening a fraction.
“…Adventurers, then. Your manner speaks of the wild. I will overlook the discourtesy this once.” He took a step forward, his boots crushing the grass. “State your name.”
“Naz Garevaldo of Jask. People call me [Maximize] Naz.” Naz lifted his chin, grinning with a pride that refused to be bowed.
“Oh. One of [the hexagon of the Eastern Continent], if I recall? The Giant Slayer?” The lord’s eyes widened slightly. The ice in his gaze cracked, revealing a flicker of recognition.
“Not a name I like—sounds too flashy—but hey, if you’ve heard of me, I won’t complain.” Naz scratched the back of his head, feigning embarrassment but clearly pleased. He sheathed his massive blade with a loud clack, signaling a temporary truce. “Still, I got no clue where we are, or who the hell you are. That’s the situation. We’re flying blind here.”
“You stand in the territory of Sueil, one of the sovereign nations of the Western Continent.” The lord nodded once, accepting the terms. He raised his voice, addressing the entire group. “And this region is Avras—my domain.” He spread his hands slightly, encompassing the land. “I am its lord. And the one who commissioned the Rank-S adventurer, Claval, to investigate the black sphere.”
The group straightened at once. The air thickened, turning viscous. This wasn't just a noble passing by. This was the Client. The one who held the purse strings, the authority, and the law of this land.
?
Naz stepped back, understanding the shift in hierarchy. Politics wasn't his battlefield. Roa and Rize took his place, stepping forward as the representatives of the team. Their armor was dented, their faces smeared with soot, but they stood tall.
“Lord of Avras,” Roa began, her voice hoarse from magical exhaustion, sounding like gravel grinding together. “We will report what the team Jask witnessed.”
“The black sphere vanished due to the battle within,” she said, her tone clinical and precise. “The enemy—an entity designated ‘TP’—disappeared without a trace.” She gestured to the empty space where the anomaly had been.
“The body also vanished. There is no corpse to present. But we did strike a decisive blow. The threat is neutralized.” Rize continued, nodding firmly, her eyes locking with the Lord’s.
“…I see. I understand the situation.” The lord closed his eyes slowly. He stood there for a moment, processing the information, a statue of contemplation. He opened his eyes. His gaze shifted past them, landing on the figure lying in the grass. Claval. She was unconscious, pale as death, a faint violet light pulsing rhythmically at her core—the only sign that she was still fighting for life.
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“Claval will be taken into our care immediately,” the lord stated. It wasn't an offer. It was a command.
“Please wait!” Rize stepped forward sharply, breaking protocol. “She is our companion! We fought together. Please allow us to continue watching over her until she wakes!”
A pause. The knights tensed again. The lord studied Rize’s desperate face.
“I have no objection. In fact, I wish to hear your account in detail. Her testimony will need to be corroborated.”He saw the loyalty there, the raw emotion and he nodded.
“Thank you, my lord.” Rize exhaled, her shoulders slumping in relief.
“Claval’s life is stabilized. But her mana circuits are frayed. She’ll need time to recover. Moving her must be done gently.” Roa continued her report, her voice turning solemn.
“Carry Claval. With care.” The lord gestured with a single finger.
Two knights in heavy plate armor approached. They moved with surprising gentleness, unfurling a stretcher and lifting the unconscious hero onto the velvet-lined canvas. The others watched in anxious silence. The immediate danger was over. Claval was safe. The report was delivered.
But everyone felt it—the moment the atmosphere shifted again. The air grew colder, sharper. The lord inhaled, his chest expanding against his breastplate. And then, he asked the question they had all been dreading.
?
“Now then—” The lord turned slowly. His cape swirled around him like a dark wing. “Who is that young man?”
His gaze locked onto Yu. It wasn't the look of a man seeing a hero. It was the look of a sanitation worker seeing a stain. Cold. Sharp. Measuring. Dismissive. The gaze pierced straight through Yu’s spine, freezing him in place.
“He’s one of us,” Hanara answered instantly, stepping between Yu and the lord’s line of sight. There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt.
“He does not appear to be an adventurer. He wears no armor. He carries no weapon.” But the lord shook his head, unimpressed. “…You. Boy. State your name.” He took a step closer. The pressure intensified.
“S–Shi… Shiro… Yu.” Yu swallowed hard. His throat felt dry as parchment. The words stuck to his tongue.
No reaction. Not a flicker of recognition. Not even curiosity.
“Shiro… Yu?” The lord tasted the name and spat it out. “A name I have never heard. It sounds foreign. Your adventurer tag?” He held out a gloved hand.
Yu froze. He had no tag. He had no rank. In this world, he didn't exist. He was a ghost without a grave. He could show nothing.
“…You have none, then.” The lord said. It felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees.
The silence was deafening. Clink. Clank. Armor shifted as the knights adjusted their grips on their spears. The circle was closing.
“Lord of Avras,” Rize cut in, her voice rising in panic. “He did fight with us! He entered the sphere! He risked his life for Claval—and for all of us!” She gestured wildly to Yu, pleading. “Even without a tag, he is our comrade! He saved us!”
But the lord’s expression didn’t change. It was a mask of stone.
“To me—the client—this is a serious breach of contract.” His voice was a gavel striking a block. “It is illegal for unregistered individuals—especially non-adventurers—to intervene in Class-S investigations. It compromises the security of the realm.”
“Team Jask may have been dragged into the matter. I can overlook your involvement. However—” The lord fixed his gaze on Yu again. The look was terrifying in its emptiness. “There are reports that you entered the sphere alongside Claval. That you were present at ground zero.”
Silence. Heavy. Unyielding. Suffocating.
Yu tried to speak. I just wanted to help. I didn't mean to… But the words died in his throat. He had no way to explain who he was. Or where he came from. Or why he was here.
“With no proof of identity, and no guild affiliation… I cannot allow you into my manor. You are a security risk.”
The lord’s verdict fell like a guillotine blade. Two knights stepped forward, their boots thudding on the grass.
“Wait—!” Rize lunged forward—CLANG. A knight blocked her path, his gauntleted hand resting heavily on his sword hilt. He didn't draw it, but the threat was clear. “Lord, please! At least hear him out! He’s not an enemy!” She stopped cold, trembling.
“You may speak—from the cell.” The answer was merciless.
Yu’s breath hitched. Hands seized him. Strong, armored hands. They gripped his arms like vices. Cold metal dug into his skin, bruising the flesh.
“W–wait—!” Yu gasped, stumbling as he was yanked forward.
“Stop!!” Rize screamed, reaching out, her fingers brushing empty air.
Naz’s fists clenched at his sides, veins bulging in his neck. He took a step, but Hanara grabbed his arm, shaking her head. Not here. Not against an army. Roa bit her lip until it bled, tears welling in her eyes. Hanara glared silently, her eyes burning with impotent rage.
But none of them—none—could overturn the order. In the face of the state, their strength meant nothing. Yu was swallowed into the ranks of armored men. A wall of steel closed around him, cutting him off from the light.
The wind swept across the field, carrying the scent of dust and iron. Rize stood alone in the grass, her fists trembling so hard that her nails pierced her palms. Blood dripped onto the green blades.
The boy who had brought the worlds together—the boy who had sacrificed everything—was being dragged away by the very world he had tried to save.

