Daion sat down beside Ken and Amelie, letting out a long sigh before resting his head on his folded arms. Both of them looked at him in surprise; part of them believed he hated them, though not even Daion himself was sure if that was true.
Marui approached, carrying a tray with four beers. He handed one to each of them, including Daion, who was startled to receive it. He took it and straightened a little in his chair, though his posture remained slouched.
"I thought you'd go with Loryn," Ken ventured, taking a sip. He immediately grimaced as the alcohol burned his throat. "Damn, this is awful… nicely done, Marui," he said, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Daion tasted the drink. It didn't seem that strong, but the flavor was definitely disgusting.
"Well, he's an idiot, and I still don't know what I'm supposed to do," he replied, setting the mug down on the table as he stretched. His body still ached with spasms and sharp pains, even after being treated with the same medicine that had healed his wounds from fighting the Hound and the Glutton. "Anyway, I wanted to ask about Brut first. After all, that guy's the one I like the most out of all of you."
"How blunt," Ken muttered, shooting a quick glance at Amelie and Marui, who both lowered their eyes with gloomy expressions. "He'll be fine. He's recovering quickly, though a direct hit from a god is usually fatal."
"But you took a direct hit too," Daion pointed out, glancing at him sideways.
"Even if it didn't look like it, for an Alpha God that was barely the equivalent of fireworks," Ken replied with a smug expression that irritated Daion. "Besides, I'm rank B. My endurance is far higher than yours."
Daion turned toward Amelie, who seemed to be clenching her jaw tightly. He wondered what she was thinking about what that god had said—about Brut, and about his feelings for her. Though that god also said a lot of things I didn't understand, he thought, leaning back in his chair.
He now had two clear problems: finding a place where Thaloren and the Behemoth could fight without holding back because of others, and becoming strong enough to face the mid-high-ranked Corrupt.
"Hey, Ken," Daion asked, raising his gaze. "How strong would I have to be to defeat Tinitos?"
Ken glanced at him thoughtfully. "Well, that depends partly on the ranks of the Invoked," he said, taking another sip. "Rank F, the first one, is meant for fighting creatures without intelligence. Rank E can match a few intelligent ones—the ones we usually call 'mid-rank' monsters."
Daion thought for a moment about the Hound and the Glutton from SteelWall; after all, he'd defeated them while still Rank F, and by little more than a miracle.
"Even so, those creatures are still a far cry from beasts," Ken continued. "But a mid-rank Corrupt like the one you saw could only be taken down by a veteran Rank C Invoked."
"So you could defeat it," Daion deduced, remembering Ken was Rank B.
Ken looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yeah… though it'd still be a pain in the ass."
Marui and Amelie exchanged looks. Daion forced himself to recall their ranks: Brut was Rank C, and those two were Rank D—with pretty remarkable abilities on top of that.
"So… how do you reach a higher rank?" he began to ask.
"It's impossible. Not in two weeks," Ken interrupted, his tone cutting deep. "You could maybe reach Rank D if you pushed yourself to the edge and nearly killed yourself gathering Omega Energy, but without skills or knowledge, the progress curve becomes brutally steep. Ranks B and A are designed to fight high-rank Corrupts and Archdemons, while Rank S exists to match the Nobles. That's why Thaloren—the only one here of that rank—can fight one."
"How long does it take?" Daion asked, his voice barely hiding a note of despair.
"We've been here for sixty years… and I've been stuck at Rank B for the last five," Ken admitted.
A chill ran down Daion's spine. He could think of plans to buy himself a few weeks if he was clever enough, but there was no way to overcome sixty damn years of disadvantage.
"And Thaloren?" he pressed.
"Even he took thirty years—and only because he has the strongest blessing of all the gods."
Daion cursed under his breath, then looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to mentally insult the Primordial of Gravity.
At that moment, he remembered what that god had said about divine artifacts—but it was useless. His own had been stolen long ago, and there was no way of knowing by whom. Daion took a long gulp of beer, trying to drown his frustration.
Doesn't matter. That'll be plan B, he thought to himself. Ken frowned at him, confused.
"Before that, though," Daion said, lifting his gaze, his tone firm, "I wanted to ask you all something… Are you going to stay and fight?"
The three exchanged hesitant looks. Amelie sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Fighting a noble… that's suicide in every possible way," she said quietly.
"So you're going to run away again?" Daion shot back harshly. "Seraphine's right: if this place falls, there'll be no stopping them afterward. We've been losing for centuries. If nothing changes soon, it doesn't matter how many Invoked the gods send—we'll never win."
Daion clenched his fist. It trembled slightly. He couldn't stand remembering that he'd been sent to fight a war that was already lost.
A memory flashed through his mind, catching him off guard.
He was standing before a city in ruins; fire and smoke rose into the sky. His body burned, and beside him leaned a blonde girl, her hand pressed over the bandages on his abdomen. Then, he simply watched as men in rags, armed with battered rifles, charged toward them.
Daion stood still and looked up. Above, a squadron of planes crossed the sky, dropping metallic cylinders. When they hit the ground, a massive ball of fire devoured the attackers.
He couldn't look away. The men kept advancing, even as the explosions tore their bodies apart and their comrades' entrails splattered against them.
Why were they so committed? the Invoked wondered.
"Why don't you want to fight?" he asked the group.
Ken raised an eyebrow; the answer was obvious.
"To survi—" he began, but Daion lifted a hand, cutting him off.
"If that were true, you'd fight," he said firmly. "Even you must know that running only delays your death. And that talk about 'survival'—I've already learned what a load of bullshit that is." Daion leaned forward, meeting his eyes directly. "You saved that girl."
"She was just a kid… it was an instinctive reaction," Ken replied, lowering his gaze.
Daion looked around, checking if the girl was nearby, but it seemed the villagers had stayed above.
"Too bad humans are the only species capable of suppressing their protective instinct for the sake of survival—or ideals," Daion said with a tone dripping in cynicism. "Doesn't change the fact that they're idiots and murderers, but I don't care about scratching the surface of this world… I want a real answer."
Ken stared at him for a few seconds and sighed in resignation. Then he gestured for Marui and Amelie to leave and check on Brut. They obeyed reluctantly.
Left alone with Daion, Ken met his gaze directly, his expression a mixture of weariness and nostalgia.
"We arrived sixty years ago, like I told you," he began in a deep, almost solemn voice.
Daion held back a sigh. He knew that tone—it meant a long story was coming.
"At this point, I barely remember my previous world… not even how I died," Ken continued, his eyes fixed on the fire. "I only have fragments left: my parents' faces, a distant voice… There were six of us in the first group of Invoked."
Daion straightened, surprised. Six at the same time? Ken went on, not noticing his reaction.
"It didn't take us long to realize what kind of place we'd fallen into. Back then, the Lake of the Invoked was only a couple of kilometers from a major city—though I think it's destroyed now." He let out a bitter laugh. "They greeted us with suspicion, of course, and we soon understood why. The other Invoked had already left their mark—pillaging villages, killing on a whim, taking women or demi-human slaves under the excuse of 'a savior's needs.'"
He lowered his head, as if the weight of those memories still pressed down on his shoulders.
"As Brut told you, at first we tried to change that. We were six naïve kids, full of enthusiasm, convinced we could do better. We earned a reputation for being the good ones—even other Invoked saw us as an oddity." Ken gave a faint, tired smile. "But everything changed the day we crossed the border by accident."
He paused. The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across his face.
"I don't even remember the other two's names anymore… just that they were a boy and a girl. Both powerful—one could teleport anywhere, and the other controlled magnetic fields as if she were playing with them." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And even so, not even their power could save us from what came next."
Daion stared at his mug in silence.
"We spent a few days in the city once," Ken continued. "We drank a lot; I still remember how even the townsfolk started treating us kindly. It felt amazing… being the ones making a difference, proving that not all Invoked were assholes. We were surrounded by kind, understanding people. But that day, we were just… bored."
We spent our days killing pests and weak Corrupts. That girl—the one with the magnetic powers—was with me that day. We were walking through the streets as usual. The townsfolk smiled and waved at her as we passed.
She was a genuinely good person—helped those in need, kept us focused. I used to go with her around the city; we spent a lot of time together, on missions and off. She made us laugh. More than once, she saw me spend part of our mission pay on food for the homeless. She was truly incredible—she cared more about the people of this world than they cared about themselves.
She'd walk up to the stalls—'Hello, Mr. Mang, how's the family?' she'd ask the old vegetable vendor. He always seemed to light up when he saw her. And his son… well, he was clearly in love with her. Hard not to be. She was beautiful—light brown hair tied to one side, a slender figure, graceful curves, and a gentle face.
Daion was surprised to hear him speak that way. He really cared about her.
"When I grow up, can I marry you?" the boy asked tenderly. She only smiled, as always, and gave him the same answer. "If you become a strong and gentle man, every girl will fall in love with you, don't you think?"
After that, we left. She kept greeting and connecting with people.
"Why do you do that?" I asked.
"Do what?" she replied, confused.
"Be so nice to everyone, treat them so kindly," I said. "Most of them probably hate us."
"Well, isn't that what we're trying to change?" she said with a smile.
"Yeah, but… isn't saving them enough? I mean, if I'm their savior, shouldn't they like me already?" I replied in my ignorance.
"That's true, but I think to be loved, saving them isn't enough," she said, smiling faintly at the ground. "We have to make them feel they can trust us—that we're not just their only option, but that we actually care about them… I think that's the only real way to connect with these people."
After that, we arrived at the bar where the rest of the group was waiting. She looked a bit tired, eyes lowered, yet still smiling.
"We need something more impressive," Marui said.
"Wait," Daion interrupted, frowning. "Marui can talk?"
"Yes," Ken replied. "Even if someone was mute in their previous world, the body here is reconstructed to its most optimal version. That's why we all look around eighteen or twenty—and have athlete-like bodies."
Daion nodded, intrigued. "Then why doesn't he talk?"
"I'm getting there. Be patient."
"We need something that puts our names in the headlines," Marui continued. "Something that shows who we are. Think about it—if we create a legend, the Summoned who arrive after us will see there's hope. Maybe they'll even change how they act."
The magnetic girl wasn't convinced. She shook her head. "We're still too inexperienced. Going to the frontier just to get more Omega energy is way too dangerous," she said, worried.
"Besides," she added, "we're already earning a reputation. We can keep it up a bit longer—show that it's possible to grow stronger without abusing anyone. When we're ready, we'll attempt something truly incredible, right?"
At that moment, everyone agreed. Though honestly, Marui and I weren't entirely comfortable with the idea. We often saw a group of Summoned wandering the area—stronger, more experienced. The townsfolk feared them, and they did whatever they pleased.
A few days later, we saw them threatening the bartender, demanding more liquor. We tried to intervene… that was a mistake. They weren't much stronger, but the alcohol had made them aggressive. A fight broke out inside the tavern, and by the time we stopped them, the place was wrecked. The bartender looked at us with resentment and fear. What happened next is still burned into my memory.
Brut, the other boy, and I tried to apologize. The bartender seemed to understand, but kept staring at the floor. "I just had to give them some liquor," he muttered over and over, clutching his head in despair. "Just that, and they would've left. Why did this have to happen? How will I pay for the damages now? I owe too much to the Divine Guild…"
We tried to ask what he meant, since we knew nothing about that guild. That's when the city guards arrived. They came at us with spears, as if we were criminals. We didn't fight back—we tried to explain—but it was useless. I got a cut on my face. When we finally escaped, the villagers glared at us with disgust. Everything we'd done for them meant nothing. All we heard were their voices, one after another: "It was bound to happen." "I knew they'd show their true colors." Then they started throwing stones and rotten vegetables. It was… humiliating.
Ken stopped, took the last sip from his mug, and let out a dry gag of disgust. His gaze darkened, his body hunched over the table.
"Even so, we didn't give up," he continued. "The guards brought us before someone who had just arrived that very day, looking for troublesome Summoned. Seraphine."
Daion shivered at the name.
"Wait… are you talking about fifty years ago?" he asked, eyes widening in disbelief.
"That woman isn't normal," Ken said bitterly. "She's lived for who knows how many decades, yet still looks like she's barely twenty. Back then, she even looked like a teenager… but her personality hasn't changed one damn bit. We explained everything, and she seemed to understand—to empathize. And stupidly, we believed her."
'I'm sorry to say that man owes a great sum to the guild,' she told us kindly. 'As you understand, we can't just forgive the debt. It would undermine the entire economic system.' She had even taken care to keep the slave Summoned out of our sight, as if to spare us the reality of it.
We asked if there was something we could do—a way to make up for destroying the tavern. The debt was far too high to repay. She offered something simple: 'There are Corrupted nearby killing farmers and livestock. Stop them, and instead of a reward, I'll forgive the debt.'
Daion narrowed his eyes, remembering his own deal with Seraphine—wondering if she had deliberately avoided taking the blame. Was it really a good idea?
"We arrived at the site of the attacks," Ken continued, "and we couldn't have predicted what came next."
"A mid-ranked Corrupted. A real one. He came with several followers and surrounded us. Back then, there was no one like Thaloren defending the frontier. The fight was brutal—we'd only been Summoned for about six years. Three rank Cs, four rank Ds. It was hell. The girl gave it everything she had, but her power was useless in that terrain. The Corrupted fought barehanded—he tore through our defenses."
"I unleashed my power at full strength and managed a clean strike—his arm fell off. I got cocky and went for his head. But with a single hit, he caught me. He had horn-like bones fused to his forearms, and one pierced straight through my abdomen. I collapsed, coughing blood. The others tried to save me, and the girl jumped in, spear raised, aiming for his heart. The Corrupted spun around and impaled her through the throat."
Daion trembled as he listened. Ken looked on the verge of tears—or of killing everyone in the room.
"She fell, trying to say something," he whispered. "At this point, it doesn't matter what. All I know is that we didn't go back for her. The boy grabbed us, used everything he had left, and teleported us back to the city." He paused, voice quivering. "I can still see it—how the Corrupted closed in on her body. Just before we vanished, they started tearing her clothes off."
End of chapter 30