The sun still hung high above the horizon, baring the earth with its dazzling light. Tamaki—and Amamiya—remained caught in the heat of their inner conflict.
Amamiya had now fallen ill, a consequence of her own actions; she had peered into Tamaki's information, and as punishment she was tormented by the weight of her mistake.
Her body was drenched in sweat beneath her tattered clothes. She crawled across the ground, unable to withstand the searing pain consuming her.
Tamaki, still panicked, could do nothing. All he could manage was to crouch beside her, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"Amamiya—hold on… I'll find the nearest village. Rest for now. I'll handle this," Tamaki declared. Though his words carried seriousness and resolve, deep down he knew the truth: without Amamiya, he couldn't navigate this world.
But for now, none of that mattered. Drawing upon his past experience, Tamaki carefully lifted her into his arms, cradling her as though she were a fragile princess stricken with fever.
He carried her forward, though her condition only worsened—her sweat soaking through the single worn garment she owned, her breathing ragged, her body burning and unstable. Tamaki struggled to keep his focus as she gasped and whimpered faintly in his arms.
"Please… hang on," he whispered.
Following a narrow path, he pressed onward, not knowing where it would lead, but hoping desperately that it would guide him to a village where Amamiya could be treated.
The path, however, only carried them deeper into the forest. Tamaki's worry grew heavier—what if this route only led them farther away, to some distant city beyond reach? Yet luck seemed to favor him. Thanks to his ability—Supernatural Luck, though still only level one—the road eventually spilled out of the forest and straight toward the outskirts of a nearby village.
Relief flickered for only a moment. Fortune, it seemed, was fickle. The village lay under attack by monsters—goblins.
Small, barely a meter tall, they swarmed in numbers, spilling from their caves. They were barbaric by nature, grotesque in appearance, with rough green skin. Goblins were infamous for their vile acts, often kidnapping women to be used as slaves, earning them the title of one of the most repulsive creatures in folklore.
Tamaki froze in shock, torn by hesitation. The village was already overwhelmed, and though a single adventuring party of four fought to defend it, he knew goblins' savagery well enough. They would not relent.
Helping them—even if only for a few minutes—wasn't such a bad choice. After all, this was the closest settlement to where he and Amamiya had landed. With care, he set her down against a tree hidden by thick bushes, still far enough from the chaos. She lay there feverish and unconscious, unaware of the danger surrounding them.
I'll go for a moment to help defend the village… then I'll return and deal with her fever, he resolved silently. Without further hesitation, he dashed toward the village.
The scene was chaos. Goblin hordes poured in from every direction, arrows whistling through the air as homes burned. The four defenders still held their ground, but they were vastly outnumbered.
Tamaki approached from behind the village—but then a harsh truth slammed into him like cold water. He possessed countless skills, yet had no idea how to use them. Ever since arriving in this world, he had been unable to read or comprehend its language.
Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice the goblins creeping in around him. By the time he realized, it was too late. An arrow whistled through the air and pierced his left shoulder.
The pain ignited through his body, yanking him violently back into reality.
Tamaki staggered, his balance breaking as the force pushed him off stride. He stopped running, standing still with a terrifying glare. Blood trickled coldly down his back from the wound in his shoulder, dragging him harshly back into reality.
His eyes grew dark and heavy, emotions spilling over, radiating a suffocating pressure that thickened the air around him. The goblins gasped for breath, screeching and howling in grotesque agony.
"I don't have time for the likes of you…" his voice rasped, low and heavy. "Begone!"
With that single word, all the goblins before him vanished—obliterated. What remained were only fragments of torn flesh and scattered organs littering the ground.
The four adventurers defending the village froze in shock.
Their party was made up of: a warrior clad head to toe in full armor—likely their leader; an elven woman, her long ears peeking through her hair; a towering reptilian figure nearly three meters tall; a grizzled dwarf with a thick, silvered beard; and finally, a young woman in robes of a religious order, unmistakably a cleric.
They had been struggling against the horde, yet in an instant, the goblins they faced exploded into gore. A few survivors shrieked in terror and fled, unable to withstand the sight of such carnage.
The armored warrior tensed, his voice muffled and metallic within the helmet. "It seems… we've gained ourselves a new problem."
"I can feel a dreadful aura from over there," rumbled the reptilian, his voice steady, carrying the weight of wisdom.
"We should check it at once," said the elf, and with that, the group advanced toward the source of the darkness—though in truth, it was nothing more than Tamaki's simmering rage.
But as they closed in, the oppressive aura vanished. What they found instead was a battered young man, an arrow still lodged in his shoulder, his clothes drenched in goblin blood.
The elf, the dwarf, and the reptilian warrior all stopped, stunned by the sight. Then the cleric stepped forward, her expression softening with pity at his condition.
Tamaki noticed them at once and stumbled forward, trying to speak. Words tumbled from his mouth—desperate, foreign murmurs that none of them could understand.
The reptilian raised a hand, attempting to calm him, but the barrier of language only deepened the confusion.
Tamaki continued muttering in the strange tongue, trying to convey some kind of message. Taking the initiative, the armored man knelt and traced a shape into the dirt: the symbol of a question mark, "?".
Fortunately, that sign was universal—recognized even in Tamaki's world.
Perhaps Tamaki owed thanks to his skill: Supernatural Luck. But that hardly mattered in the current situation.
With a few hand gestures, Tamaki signaled for them to follow. The group trailed after him into the bushes—where Amamiya lay weak and burning with fever.
At the sight, the cleric immediately stepped forward, kneeling to check Amamiya's condition. It was troubling, though not fatal—merely a strong fever.
"It seems she's feverish," the cleric said softly.
The armored man raised a thumb in acknowledgment, signaling that it was manageable, then motioned for them all to return together to the village.
Tamaki once more lifted Amamiya into his arms, cradling her like a sleeping princess. Despite the language barrier, with careful gestures and steady steps, they still managed to understand one another.
…
And so the day comes to the end.