The alley had recovered its silence after the dissolution of the shadows. Only three figures remained: Satoru, immobile and serene; Mize, barely able to stay on his feet; and the elven girl, still hidden beneath the blanket that shielded her. The residual smoke had dissipated, but the tension lingered in the air. Mize's ragged breathing broke the calm, and his trembling body gave the impression that any gust of wind would be enough to topple him.
Satoru extended a hand. Between his fingers appeared a small crystal vial, the red liquid within radiating a faint glow.
Mize frowned at it. He hesitated only a moment, not because he distrusted its contents, but because of what it was: a potion, items worth more than what a common man could earn in an entire season. Nothing to be used lightly.
"Drink it," Satoru ordered calmly. "You're under my protection now. I can't allow you to die before fulfilling your part."
His words carried logic, and resigned to his deal with Satoru, Mize only took a few seconds before snatching the vial, uncorking it, and swallowing it in one gulp.
The effect was immediate. His wounds closed under a subtle glow, pain dissipated, and his muscles regained strength. Mize drew a deep breath, surprised at the effectiveness, and clenched the empty bottle in his hand.
He had seen simple potions before, but none capable of treating his current state. One of the reasons he had hesitated earlier was because his condition demanded at least an intermediate potion—or several low-tier ones. Considering the potential dangers, he feared wasting valuable resources on himself, but it seemed his concerns had been misplaced.
"…Thank you." His words were curt, but not empty.
Satoru inclined his head slightly, accepting the gratitude as if it were a mere formality. To him, this was not a gift but an investment.
"Now that you can stand," he continued in a frigid tone, "tell me if you have somewhere to go."
"I have no place to stay." Adjusting the blanket around the girl, shielding her from the cold night breeze, he added, "But I know there's an elf living in this city. I don't know him, but the princess does."
Mize's eyes hardened as he spoke the next words.
"I was planning to seek him out and ask him to take her back to her village."
The choice of words drew Satoru's attention. Princess. The young girl was no real princess, but Mize had his reasons for calling her that. Satoru would be lying if he claimed he remembered why.
"I know where that elf is," Satoru added after a brief silence.
Mize's eyes widened slightly, a spark of surprise flickering.
"You know him?"
"Not personally, but I can take you to him. There's only one elf in this city, and he runs a shop near the inn where I'm staying."
Mize studied him before nodding. For him, as long as there was a chance to place Mia in the hands of her own people, it was enough.
Satoru, however, took a moment to analyze the situation. Prudence dictated they should wait until dawn, check for traces of surveillance—of which there were many—and only then approach the elf. But that wasn't what he wanted. His objective was for the enemy to reveal itself, so giving away the information didn't matter. Besides, there was truly only one elf in the city, and anyone could find him quickly.
There was no reason to take precautions.
"We move now."
Mize barely managed to open his mouth before Satoru's voice cut him off:
"Hold on tight."
The ratman tensed as he felt himself lifted with absurd ease, as though his weight—and that of the child wrapped in the blanket—meant nothing. A moment later, the ground fell away beneath his feet.
The night wind enveloped them as they ascended. Mize couldn't hide his shock: to fly… wasn't something an ordinary mage could do. Not even wind practitioners mastered it without years of effort. And this man was not only flying, but doing so while carrying them both with flawless stability, as if gliding through the air was the most natural thing in the world.
Satoru said nothing more. He held them, one in each arm, with the same firmness a warrior might carry his banner. The flight was silent, with no violent gusts or jolts.
From above, an owl swiveled its head to follow them. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, too fixed for a mere nocturnal bird. Satoru glanced at it briefly, though he did not alter his course.
That owl was the lich's familiar, the creature through which it watched the city.
Mize, meanwhile, thought nothing of the owl, nor of the man holding him aloft. All that went through his mind was a single certainty: if this stranger carried him to the elf, he would have fulfilled his duty. Whatever came after—victory or defeat—was not his concern.
The group descended toward the commercial district, Satoru's black figure gliding calmly across the open sky, as though the night itself acknowledged him.
***
The lock yielded with a soft click. Satoru entered soundlessly, silently grateful that Hans had the skill to open it without the use of an item. With a brief gesture he conjured small spheres of light that hovered in the air, just enough to illuminate the interior without harshness.
"Lay her there," he instructed Mize, pointing to the nearby sofa. The ratman obeyed, gently placing the girl on the cushions and covering her with the blanket.
The silence lasted only a few seconds. Then quick footsteps echoed from the floor above, followed by a woman's voice, startled and still drowsy:
"A-a midnight ambush…?" The voice faltered, then shifted to an almost playful tone.
"Is this your move, Yusa?"
Mize clenched his jaw while Satoru raised his voice—firm, though without hostility.
"We come without hostile intent. I apologize for the forced entry, but there was an urgent matter requiring this method. If you come down, we can explain."
The creak of wood signaled movement above. There were no easy exits: the windows were narrow, and the safe room lay in the basement, below the ground floor. The only logical choice was to descend.
Satoru knew this, and waited calmly. Even if they attempted to flee, one gesture was all it would take to pull them back inside.
Yusa knew it as well. He was strong enough to believe that if there was a real threat, it would be safer to confront it himself while shielding Nadi than to leave her alone upstairs.
The footsteps continued, approaching the stairs.
The stairway groaned until two figures emerged at the threshold.
Nadi followed behind, clutching the railing with both hands, her loose red hair tumbling in messy waves over modest sleepwear that barely covered her youthful frame. Her eyes still carried sleep, but curiosity kept them open.
In front of her, a short elf descended with tense calm. His green hair, tied into a long braid that swung past his waist, swayed with each step. He carried a staff of entwined roots, more symbol than ornament. His gaze was sharp, unhurried, free of needless words.
Satoru stood still, unmoving, without the slightest trace of nervousness.
"Our urgency forced us to enter this way," he said firmly, lifting one hand slightly to indicate the sofa. "We've come without hostile intent. The girl you see there required shelter."
Nadi, who had only just noticed the blanket, stepped forward, eyes widening.
"A girl…? But…?" Her voice broke between surprise and confusion.
The blanket shifted as Mize, with a brusque motion, revealed the girl's face. Short, pointed ears; delicate features.
"She's an elf!" Nadi exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth.
The silence that followed was broken by Yusa's low, dry voice, spoken only to himself as if confirming what he already knew:
"Mia."
The name fell heavily into the air.
Nadi, in contrast, stepped forward in small strides until she stood before the newcomers. Her gaze swept over Satoru as if trying to recall something.
"You're…?" she murmured, a mix of surprise and curiosity. "The mage who arrived a few days ago, who fought alongside the militia against a demon, and who spends fortunes on his slaves… Satoru, right?"
Her eyes lingered on Satoru's hood. Though his expression remained hidden, his bearing was impossible to ignore.
"You're right," he answered simply.
Nadi crossed her arms, assessing them.
"We can't keep talking without introductions. I'm Nadi. I work here with Manager Yusa."
The elf lifted his gaze for a moment, giving a slight nod.
Satoru inclined his head, calm.
"You already know my name."
Mize waited a second longer before speaking.
"Mize."
That was enough for introductions. The silence that followed pressed the ratman to explain. After all, if anyone knew why they had been gathered here, it was him.
"She was kidnapped from her village by a sorcerer. They took her to a place called Cradle. My companions and I were investigating the area because of the decline in vegetation… when Mia escaped. She found a teleportation device and appeared near us. She wanted to come here, to the city, to seek Yusa."
His voice was harsh, unadorned, like someone reciting a report.
"I knew her. Her parents once saved my life. I swore to them I would protect her if ever needed. My companions and I took turns covering her, but one by one they stayed behind or sacrificed themselves to buy time. In the end… I was the only one left."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"The sorcerer didn't let her go. He sent swarms of ants after us. And when I entered the city, the shadows you saw earlier nearly defeated me. If not for him"—he glanced briefly at Satoru—"we wouldn't be here."
The air grew heavy after his words.
Yusa, who had been quietly examining Mia, froze for an instant at the mention of her abduction. His grip on the staff tightened, but he said nothing. His face returned to neutrality, offering no explanation.
The elf pulled the blanket back more carefully and placed his palm on the child's chest, as if probing for an invisible pulse.
"No wounds," he said in a low, precise voice. "Magical fatigue."
He straightened, the green braid falling over his shoulder.
Nadi let out a breath of relief, as though the weight of the situation had lifted. Magical fatigue was relatively easy to treat: the patient only needed to rest until their mana recovered, or at least most of it. That said, no one could predict when she would awaken. Recovery could be hastened with a mana potion, but they had none at hand.
Still, since it wasn't a mortal injury, they could afford to relax.
Satoru, however, observed silently, evaluating. In YGGDRASIL, no such phenomenon existed. Anyone who depleted their mana simply dropped to zero, unable to cast further spells, but never fell unconscious. Recovery was automatic; a single hour was enough to refill the pool completely.
Here, that simple rule didn't apply. The girl had collapsed and might remain so for days. An inefficient system, full of vulnerabilities.
The difference between both worlds revealed itself once again. And to Satoru, that difference was a reminder: this place, with all its limitations, was fertile ground for one who understood more absolute rules.
Satoru gave the unconscious girl one last look before speaking again.
"Now that Mia's condition is clear, the next matter remains." His tone was neutral, as if reviewing a formality. "I have an agreement with Mize: to defeat the sorcerer pursuing her."
The ratman nodded once, confirming.
"For that, I need you to tell me what you know," Satoru continued, eyes fixed on him. "And if you remember Cradle's exact location, all the better."
Mize closed his eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath before nodding again.
Satoru then turned his gaze to the elf.
"And if there's anything more you can add… any useful detail, please… say it."
Yusa held his gaze for only a few seconds. He didn't respond immediately; there was something about this man that unsettled him, like an invisible pressure too natural to be feigned. A presence that made him believe this calm was not arrogance, but certainly born of real strength.
At last, he inclined his head in a brief nod.
Nothing more was needed.
***
Satoru returned to the inn in silence. The city slept and the streets were empty; only the whisper of his cloak disturbed the quiet.
Once in his room, he raised his hand. Hans emerged from his shadow and bowed.
"Send the shadow demons and a couple of bone vultures. Have them patrol the area Mize indicated. I want the exact location of the Tower confirmed."
"As you command, my lord."
The ninja nodded and vanished without a sound.
Satoru leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the desk. The mention of Cradle was no surprise: he already knew it was a tower created by an elven sage, designed to simulate a real labyrinth. What interested him was not its origin, but its function.
Could that Tower… grant him experience?
The memory of the Black Demon crossed his mind. He had revived it days earlier, not for combat, but to rip from it with [Dark Wisdom] every fragment of knowledge it held about labyrinths and the magic of this world. What he had learned was not insignificant, and comparing it to Cradle could be very useful.
If that artificial construct could fuel his growth the same way a real labyrinth did, then he would no longer rely solely on the immense reserve obtained from killing Satou. The Tower would be an inexhaustible source of experience points… a resource for the future.
As for the sorcerer Lich, Zen, he hardly merited consideration. An undead weaker than the Black Demon posed no real threat. All Satoru expected was that before being erased, Zen would reveal enough about the Tower's mechanisms.
In silence, Satoru laced his fingers before his face. The thought left him expectant.
***
Elsewhere, an explosion of light tore through the forest, splintering trees and leaving a burning trench in the ground. The glow faded slowly, leaving behind bluish embers crackling in the gloom.
The surrounding landscape bore countless scars: trunks split as though by a colossal sword, branches ripped apart, the earth slashed by dozens of cuts. The forest itself seemed wounded, its recovery destined to take years.
When the dust settled, at the center of the clearing sat the silhouette of a girl. Seated among the wreckage, chest heaving with deep breaths, the green aura surrounding her flickered like a restrained flame.
Mito remained still until the glow gradually ebbed and she opened her eyes.
"You've finished restoring your mana." Akon Kagura's voice rang clear, not as a question but as a statement.
Mito lowered her gaze to the sword strapped at her waist. The blade's glow pulsed in rhythm with the voice that emanated from it.
"Yes," she confirmed simply.
All around her, the forest bore the evidence of her training: earth carved by sword strokes, trees cleaved in two, charred trunks. With a sigh, she rose and lifted her gaze to the night sky. In another time, she would have laughed, joked to ease the weight of silence. Even on the eve of her battle with the Demon King, she had made everyone laugh with her lightheartedness. Now there was none of that. Only a sigh, not for comfort, but for the strength to press on.
"Do you think we're ready to face him?"
There was a pause before the reply came, firm and unwavering.
"We are not."
Mito bit her lip but didn't argue.
"That enemy is not like the ones you've known," Akon continued. "He surpasses the Demon King you defeated… he stands at level one hundred and twenty-five. And beyond that, he wields powers even I find strange."
The voice grew harsher, tinged with contained disdain.
"That thing cannot be taken lightly. Even against the Demon King, who was at level one hundred and twenty, you wouldn't have won alone. You needed me, your companions, the holy sword, and the borrowed armor. You are stronger now than then… but still not enough to face that thing alone."
Mito lowered her head for a moment, clenching her fist.
"Then… what are we missing?"
"Support," Akon answered bluntly. "Becoming this sword is already a form of help, but against him it isn't enough. And there are no other heroes who could make a difference; they are all weaker than you. Even if I could locate them right now, it would be useless."
Mito stayed quiet, listening.
"Giving him more time is dangerous. We don't know how much stronger he might grow, nor what he's planning. And if he explores the treasure I left behind… it will be worse."
The young woman lifted her eyes to the sky again, thoughtful.
"Then we need a place steeped in mana," she said, picking up the thread. "That way you can recover faster… and I can be better prepared."
Akon didn't answer. It wasn't needed.
After a few seconds of silence, Mito nodded with resolve.
"I know a place."
She pushed off lightly, her body rising, still cloaked in the faint green glow. Her braid whipped behind her as she ascended, and without looking back she shot eastward.
The night returned to silence, as if nothing had happened. But that silence only concealed the inevitable: the next time that figure and her sword appeared, it would be to cross fates with him.