The month leading up to Orcus didn't feel long.
It felt like tightening rope.
Every dawn, before the sun could even burn the morning chill off the stone courtyards, the training grounds filled with motion and noise—the dull thud of boots pounding packed earth, the rhythmic clack of wooden blades, the snap and hiss of spells cutting through frost-tinged air.
Within weeks, the class transformed. Stats rose. Coordination sharpened. What started as panicked flailing turned into something resembling teamwork. Their childish bravado hardened—slowly—into the beginnings of real ability.
And through it all, Hajime watched.
His Resonance observed things no one else noticed. Not just mana. Not just ambient flow. It picked up the rhythm of people.
Who sprinted toward danger without hesitation.
Who instinctively hid behind others when pressure mounted.
Who treated this world like an RPG playground where dying was just a respawn.
Who would break the moment blood—real blood—hit the floor.
Invisible lines forming.
Fault lines.
And the rope kept tightening.
---
"Warm-ups! Formation drills after!" Meld's voice cracked through the chill, somehow louder than the clamor of morning training. "Remember—monsters don't wait for you to argue about who stands where!"
This time, nearly everyone moved without needing corrections. Kouki, naturally, took point—sword gleaming, stance heroic. Ryutarou and two other melee jobs flanked him, shields raised. Kaori, Suzu, and the support casters formed the middle line. Shizuku and the quicker jobs floated between ranks, reading battlefield gaps with emerging discipline.
Hajime slotted where he always made the most sense: the edge of the middle line—close enough to cover supports, far enough to see every angle. A flexible hinge.
"Alchemist, rear guard for now," Meld had said earlier. "Tools, field control, backup."
Hajime hadn't argued. He didn't need the spotlight. In fact, avoiding one was safer.
On Meld's whistle, the squads surged into motion. Dummy monsters swung on ropes. Knights stepped into formation, playing beasts with surprising ferocity.
"Frontline—advance in staggered pairs! Casters, time your shots! If you nuke your own tanks again, you're scrubbing the armory floors!"
A knight darted in, cutting toward Kouki's blind spot. Hajime inhaled, pivoted smoothly, and plucked a carved stone from a pouch at his hip. He flicked it into the air—clean, practiced motion—and snapped his fingers.
"Ignite."
The stone flared mid-air, the rune circle blazing bright as it detonated in a tight burst of flame and force right before the knight's shield. Close enough to shock, not enough to scorch.
"Rear artillery came in fast!" the knight called. "Good spacing!"
"Nice one, Nagumo!" Ryutarou roared, taking advantage of the opening to slam his practice hammer into the knight's shield.
Two squads over, Hiyama scowled like he'd bitten a lemon.
Meld blew his whistle. "Reset! And don't get cocky—you're still barely above headless chickens."
They reset. And ran it again.
Hajime tested variations—stones tuned for concussive bursts, ones that formed binding earth cuffs, others embedding temporary stun arrays. He experimented with activation timing, throwing arcs, mana flow distribution. Resonance fed him micro-feedback: stress lines, mana inefficiencies, trajectory corrections.
By the time Meld called for water, Hajime's arms tingled pleasantly and his mind buzzed with optimization paths.
Kaori jogged over, bright-eyed, offering him a waterskin. "Here, Hajime-kun. You really went all-out today."
"Thanks," he said, taking it. "At this rate, I'll need a crafting session just to refill everything I used."
"You looked really cool," she said softly. "Like a… support sniper."
Across the field, Hiyama heard that. His grip on his sword tightened white.
---
Magic Lab.
The makeshift Alchemy corner had grown from a lonely crate to a full workshop.
What began as Hajime, a pile of stones, and his basic gloves now had proper tables, ore samples, chisels, and even a rune-inscriber tool—on loan from the castle, as one prickly priest reminded him repeatedly.
"Remember," the priest sniffed, "these are evaluation loans. Break them, and the bill goes to your world's… embassy. If you had one."
Hajime bowed politely and proceeded to treat the tools like sacred artifacts.
He sat now at the worktable, hands moving with growing confidence.
Transmute. Shape. Carve. Test mana flow. Refine.
Each movement fluid. Each stone polished and purposeful.
His Resonance hovered in the background, whispering warnings—micro-cracks, flawed curves, mana turbulence. Everything he made was carefully tuned: offense, defense, utility. Stones were his battlefield chess pieces.
He was halfway through a delayed-trigger barrier stone when he felt it—someone's shadow, heavy and deliberate.
Ishtar.
The high priest wore that polished, too-perfect smile of his. "My, my. You've been busy, Nagumo-kun."
Hajime set his tools down before glancing up. "Just trying to make sure I'm not dead weight, Your Holiness."
One priest stiffened at the casual tone. Ishtar, however, kept smiling.
"Diligence is admirable," Ishtar said smoothly. "Especially from those whose gifts are… subtle."
Resonance twitched. Not at the words, but the meaning dripping underneath.
"I hear you've created quite a few of these tools." Ishtar picked up a finished stone, rolling it between his fingers with disconcerting ease. "The knights testing them were impressed."
He examined the etchings, tracing the mana lines with a faint hum. "Such refined patterns. Quite beyond what a novice Alchemist should accomplish in mere weeks."
Hajime kept his expression blank. "I'm just applying what the books and lectures taught. Maybe I'm good at spotting patterns."
Ishtar's eyes sharpened—just a hair.
"A talent for patterns…" His smile curved. "Patterns are how gods speak to those willing to listen."
Hajime swallowed. Cold flickered down his spine.
"Continue your work," Ishtar said, setting the stone down with a soft click. "The kingdom—and Ehit-sama—are watching your progress with great interest."
The way he breathed that name made Hajime's bones tighten.
"I'll keep that in mind, sir," he said.
Ishtar glided away, robes whispering like serpents over stone. The air itself seemed to loosen after he left.
Hajime exhaled slowly.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Definitely not ominous at all."
His Soul Core pulsed in agreement—a subtle warning.
Don't show too much.
Not yet.
Hajime dialed back the runes on his next few stones. Lower output. Tamer patterns. Enough to be useful—never enough to be suspicious.
After all… accidents were easy to stage in Orcus.
---
Not all tension came from gods.
Within the class, fractures deepened.
Some students, seeing Hajime train seriously and earn quiet praise from knights, shifted from mockery to grudging respect. Ryutarou clapped him on the shoulder more often. Suzu offered barriers during drills with timid determination.
Others went the opposite direction.
Hiyama stopped talking to him entirely. That would've been fine—actually ideal—if not for the way his eyes always tracked Hajime whenever Kaori drifted too close.
"That stone really saved Kouki earlier," Kaori said after a chaotic afternoon simulation, oblivious to Hiyama glowering nearby. "If that had been a real monster, the knockback could've saved his life."
Hajime rubbed his cheek awkwardly. "I'd prefer we never test that theory."
Shizuku approached, sheathing her blade. "Regardless, it's reassuring. Having someone who thinks several steps ahead makes formations safer."
Across the yard, Hiyama's jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth.
Later, while cleaning gear, one of his cronies muttered, "Seriously, why does Kaori keep praising that guy?"
"Because she's kind," Hiyama said flatly. "He's just standing in the way until she realizes that."
His cronies nodded like obedient bobbleheads.
None of them noticed Suzu, passing with a stack of battered shields, pausing with a faint frown.
Lines.
More lines.
Being drawn deeper.
To outsiders, the class looked like a group bonded by shared hardship.
To Hajime—who had Resonance, instincts sharpened by trauma, and memories of a story he shouldn't know—they looked like a powder keg.
Fault lines.
Stress points.
One wrong spark away from collapse.
---
The month passed quietly, too quietly.
Morning drills. Magic practice. Lunch. Meditation.
Then Meld called everyone to the central field. His expression carried none of his usual humor. Only resolve.
"Alright, heroes," Meld began. "You've made progress. Some more than others, but none of you are where you started. That's the only reason I can say what I'm about to without laughing you all back to the library."
Nervous chuckling rippled through the group.
"As of today, basic training is complete. Next phase begins in three days."
Kouki straightened. "Next phase?"
"Practical application," Meld said. "Under church and knight supervision, you'll enter the Orcus Great Labyrinth and clear the upper levels."
Shock. Excitement. Fear.
Aiko blanched. "H-How dangerous are the upper floors?"
"Dangerous enough that careless soldiers die there," Meld said bluntly. "But safe enough that a properly supported group with healers, barriers, and escorts should be fine."
Hajime caught the emphasis—should.
Kaori's hand found his sleeve. "We're really going underground already…"
Shizuku nodded, eyes sharp. "Orcus—the one with countless floors."
Hajime's Soul Core pulsed like a heartbeat. Something in the world-system seemed to settle its gaze downward.
Meld continued, "We'll spend the next two days prepping—equipment checks, formation tuning, emergency protocols. When we go in: follow orders. Do NOT wander. And do NOT treat this like a field trip."
His eyes lingered on Kouki. Then Hiyama and his clique. Then, briefly, Hajime—as if warning him: Don't improvise too much.
Questions followed—food, sleep, duration.
No one asked the question that mattered.
What if something goes horribly wrong?
Because for them, danger was abstract. Hypothetical.
For Hajime… Orcus was a branching tree of near-futures.
Behemoth.
Ambush.
Fall.
Divinity Stone.
Ambrosia.
Life—if he timed everything precisely.
Death—if he misstepped once.
---
After dismissal, chatter filled the field.
"We're really going into a labyrinth…"
"Do you think we'll level up fast?"
"I heard elite knights train there…"
Hajime walked toward the edge of the field. Kaori and Shizuku fell in beside him automatically.
"Scared?" Shizuku asked.
"Only idiots aren't," he said. "But being scared and being ready aren't opposites."
Kaori squeezed his arm. "We'll all come back. Together."
Resonance vibrated—uncertain.
We'll see, Hajime thought. Not if some people get their way. But this time… I can change things.
He looked toward the Mountain—toward where Orcus' entrance lay hidden beneath stone and fate.
Three days.
Enough time to refine more stones.
Review every line about the Divinity Stone.
Rehearse every step of survival.
Hajime Nagumo, Alchemist and Adept of Infinite Resonance, exhaled softly.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let's see how the abyss handles a prepared bug in its code."