On a bright, cloudless day, five figures stood atop a hill, watching a horde of demons hunt down a group of adventurers. The humans had been on a simple guild quest—now they were fighting for their lives.
How many of them?
The titan Drake (the strongest in physical strength) counted slowly.
Forty-seven, Master.
There was one more member—The Silent Dagger, June (Kill with a Glance)—already holding her dagger drawn.
They will die.
The team's eyes turned to their leader, Myrul, the weakest among them—the one who decided who lived or died. He said nothing, watching the demons' formation with a predator's stillness.
Then he smiled.
Wait for it.
The Fallen Star, Ruii (Meteor Archer) felt uneasy watching the adventurers flee from the demons. But Myrul let the demons toy with them, almost killing the adventurers at their leisure.
Hey, Leader, shouldn't we do something now?
Myrul simply shook his head. Myrul's fingers twitched—just once—as if counting an invisible thread only he could see.
None of them could act—because he was the leader. Myrul kept watching, as if waiting for the demons to reach a certain spot.
Before long, he finally spoke.
Now. The adventurers have lured them into the tight kill zone.
The three of them readied themselves to fight the demons, but before they could move, Myrul raised his hand again—not to signal an attack, but to point at the ground.
A hidden rune, planted earlier by The Phoenix Mage, Hwa (Infinite Mana), ignited. The spell tripped the demons without harming the adventurers.
Drake groaned. That's it? A stumble-trap?
But the fallen demons landed in perfect alignment—ready to be slaughtered in an instant.
Myrul glanced at June while yawning. Now, it's your turn.
June simply nodded and descended. She held her dagger, blinked once—and in that moment, forty-seven simultaneous decapitations. Not a single wasted motion.
One of the adventurers dropped his sword, his voice a hoarse whisper. They... they didn't even fight. They just died.
All the adventurers who had been fleeing moments ago stood frozen, gaping—alongside Myrul's own team, who now stared at him in silence.
Myrul shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.
Why are you staring at me? Why waste energy on low-tier demons? They'll line up for you.
In his mind, he sighed. How can they be so strong yet lack brains? A simple method like this... Strength breaks bones, but strategy breaks armies.
The titan Drake erupted into booming laughter, slapping Myrul's back so hard his bones nearly cracked.
"Now you've earned my respect, Leader! Hahahaha!"
Myrul smiled faintly. But what none of them realized—there hadn't been 47 demons.
There were 48.
And the last one? Myrul had let it survive.
A messenger.
A whisper to carry terror back to the Demon King.
(Psychological warfare had always been his specialty.)
June returned to the group, her footsteps silent as shadow. Myrul greeted her with a faint smile.
Good job, June.
Stretching lazily, arms behind his head, Myrul led the team back to the capital to report to the Guild.
---
The towering gates of Quinn Capital swung open before them without hesitation, the guards stepping aside in silent deference.
As they entered, whispers erupted like sparks. Citizens stared—not just at the party, but through Myrul, their gazes lingering on the three legends behind him:
- Drake, the Titan of Endless Might.
- Ruii, the Fallen Star's Arrow.
- June, the Silent Dagger.
- Hwa, the phoenix Mage.
All SSS-Rank, the highest tier of adventurers.
And then there was Myrul.
No records. No reputation. An F-Rank—the lowest possible—plucked from obscurity and placed as their leader.
Why him? the murmurs hissed. "He must be a burden. A mistake."
Even within the Guild hall, adventurers recoiled, their fear of the fourth warring with their disdain for the enigma leading them.
Myrul ignored it all. Go, he told his team, waving a hand. Do whatever you need to do.
Without protest, the three dispersed—leaving him alone in the storm of sidelong glances.
Myrul approached the guild counter, his tone flat.
I need to talk with the Guild Master.
The receptionist hesitated, then scurried off to deliver the message. After a tense wait, she returned and ushered Myrul into a private chamber.
The door creaked open, revealing an office bathed in soft lamplight—and at its center, the most powerful figure in Quinn Capital:
The Guild Master ( Fiora )
An elf with ethereal beauty and the only SSS+ Rank in the city.
Myrul waited for the receptionist to shut the door. Before he could even speak, the Guild Master cut in:
No.
Myrul sank into the chair across from her, eyes locked onto hers with unnerving focus.
...Still no?
She nodded.
Shit! Myrul slammed a fist on the armrest. Just let me leave the team already. Is this because I rejected your lo—
PANG! A ledger book smacked him square in the face.
Hey, you damn bi—
His insult died in his throat. The Guild Master's eyes were still gently closed, her smile serene—but behind her, a dozen weapons hovered midair, blades glinting and ready to fly straight at his head.
...Tch. Cheating. Abusing your authority like this...He rubbed his bruised nose, scowling.
They're strong, Myrul muttered, slumping back in his chair. They don't even need my help. Why not just let me laze around all day?
Fiora, the Guild Master, sighed and moved closer. She perched on the edge of her desk beside him, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest—playful, but with an undercurrent of something heavier.
They're still in their twenties,she said softly. Still immature. They need someone to guide them, to keep them from making fatal mistakes.
Until when?"
Fiora's hand stilled. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, she leaned in.
Maybe... until the Demon King is dead?
Myrul's eyes narrowed. That's impossible, and you know it. Even you—the strongest—couldn't kill him. What do you expect from me?
Fiora's smile didn't waver. There's a reason he's still recovering in silence, forced into hiding. A certain... strategy .Her fingers tapped lightly against his collarbone. We still have time. Time to train them. To make them the strongest."
A beat of silence.
Then Myrul groaned, rubbing his temples. ...You're really not letting me go, are you?
Fiora's laughter was bright, but her gaze was steel.
Not a chance.