Morning light spilled through cathedral windows, painting the throne room in streaks of gold and crimson.
The four heroes stood once more before the throne of Melromarc.
Banners hung still. Nobles filled the chamber in neat rows. Knights lined the walls like unmoving statues.
At the center stood Flint Marko, shield resting heavy on his arm.
He hadn't slept.
Not really.
King Aultcray rose from his throne.
"Today, the Cardinal Heroes shall form their parties. Skilled adventurers from across the kingdom have gathered to pledge themselves."
The large doors opened.
Dozens of armored fighters, robed mages, agile scouts, and priests entered in organized lines.
Excitement rippled through the chamber.
This was an opportunity.
To serve a hero.
To gain glory.
To rise in status.
The spear hero straightened immediately.
The sword hero adjusted his grip.
The bow hero watched carefully.
Flint simply observed.
He noticed who was looking at whom.
And who wasn't looking at him.
The king gestured toward the Sword Hero.
"Sir Ren, step forward."
Several adventurers eagerly stepped out of line, bowing.
Strong-looking warriors. Confident mages.
Ren barely had to speak before hands were raised.
Applause followed.
Next, the Spear Hero.
Motoyasu grinned broadly.
Even more volunteers rushed forward — especially women. Laughter and excited whispers filled the air.
Then the Bow Hero.
Itsuki gave a measured nod, and several composed, intelligent-looking individuals joined him.
Orderly. Efficient.
Balanced.
Flint counted.
Each hero already had five, six people.
And they hadn't even looked his way.
The king's gaze shifted.
"And now… the Shield Hero."
The tone was subtle.
But it was colder.
Flint stepped forward.
Boots echoing against marble.
The room went quiet.
He looked out at the gathered adventurers.
Some avoided eye contact.
Some whispered.
Some outright stepped back.
He recognized that movement.
It was the same small shift juries made when they'd already decided.
The same look officers gave when they saw his record.
Shield.
Worst class.
Bad omen.
He waited.
One person stepped forward.
Then hesitated.
Then stepped back into line.
The silence stretched.
Flint's jaw tightened — not in anger.
In understanding.
Across the chamber, the other three heroes shifted uncomfortably.
They could feel it now.
The divide.
Finally, a single figure moved from the crowd.
A young woman with long crimson hair and an elegant posture.
She bowed gracefully.
"My name is Myne Sophia. I wish to support the Shield Hero."
Murmurs rippled instantly.
Surprise.
Confusion.
Suspicion.
Flint studied her.
She met his eyes without hesitation.
Too smooth.
Too prepared.
But she was the only one who stepped forward.
He glanced once at the others.
They were already surrounded by eager allies.
He looked back at her.
"You sure about that?" he asked quietly.
Her smile didn't falter.
"Of course."
Behind them, King Aultcray's expression was unreadable.
But there was something there.
Expectation.
Calculation.
Flint felt it.
Like standing at the edge of quicksand.
Still…
He nodded once.
"Fine."
The priest struck his staff against the marble floor.
"It is decided!"
Applause echoed — thinner than before, but ceremonial.
The other three heroes were led to their parties immediately, laughter and strategy already beginning.
Flint stood with only one person beside him.
The largest throne room in the kingdom suddenly felt very empty.
As the ceremony ended and nobles began to disperse, Flint leaned slightly toward Myne.
"Funny thing," he muttered under his breath.
"What is it?" she replied sweetly.
"In my world… when everyone walks away from you?"
His voice was low. Controlled.
"You start askin' why."
Her smile flickered — just for a second.
Then it returned.
"I assure you, Sir Shield, you have nothing to worry about."
Flint didn't smile back.
He'd been handed exactly one ally.
And somehow, that felt worse than having none.
Across the hall, the other three heroes laughed with their growing parties.
They looked like legends in the making.
The Shield Hero looked like an afterthought.
And somewhere deep in the kingdom's politics—
The first trap had already closed.