I can finally see Driul in the distance, a cluster of roofs nestled between hills. My legs tremble, my back screams, and I’ve dreamed of a bed for so long I almost forget the mud caked on my boots.   

The journey has drained me, but we’re finally here.   

  

A man waves to us from about a hundred meters away. He’s massive—at least two meters tall—with glistening green skin and two canines protruding like daggers.   

“Rikami, what a pleasure to see you again! It’s been a while. Lady Yura, Prince Zodiac,” he says, bowing with a warm smile on his Orcish face.   

“Orgar, you’ve grown like a weed! How long has it been, five years?” Rikami asks, a glint of amusement in her eyes.   

“Four, to be exact.”   

“And what are you doing here? Where are the others?”   

“I’m gathering plants for my experiments. Hanneki and Lark are in the village, bustling about for your arrival.”   

“Perfect, let’s go then. No time to waste.”   

“I’ll escort you.”   

  

As I approach, I take in Orgar. A towering Orc, imposing, but with round glasses perched on his nose and a satchel full of leaves—an unusual sight.   

Orcs often face a hard life, shunned or feared, but he exudes a gentle, almost scholarly aura. I feel we’ll get along well.   

  

A knot forms in my throat—half stress, half excitement. These people will become my companions, my new family. But leaving Lilyani for this adventurer’s life still twists my stomach.   

  

We reach the village gates. An old man awaits us, surrounded by a small, curious crowd—Napoli, I assume.   

I dismount, greeting the crowd with an awkward wave, while Rikami embraces Napoli like an old friend.   

Two boys my age rush toward her—one brandishes a dagger like a trophy, the other proudly shows off his bow.   

“You’ll see, they’re… full of energy,” Orgar whispers to me with a smirk.   

  

The boy with the bow turns to me.   

“Hey Arthur, I’m Lark! Come on, I’ll show you your place!”   

“Nice to meet you, Lark. I’ll follow. Leyart, come on, no worries!”   

“I’m coming… Small villages just remind me of bad stuff. I’ll catch up,” Leyart mumbles, dragging his feet.   

  

I follow Lark, and then—bam—a firework explodes just outside the village, a burst of colors tearing through the sky.   

“Oh crap! Crap! What’s that idiot doing?!” Lark bolts off, leaving me in the middle of the village.   

  

It’s a modest place: about ten wooden houses, thirty or forty souls at most. A well sits at the center, facing a large building that must serve as both town hall and Napoli’s home.   

While the fireworks crackle, villagers spill out of the hall, shouting:   

“Welcome, Arthur!!”   

  

From beyond the palisades, Lark yells:   

“Hanneki, we’re gonna get trashed! The fire was supposed to be after the party!”   

“No way, it was for his arrival, you moron!”   

“You sure? Check the plan!”   

“You rewrote it, don’t play me for a fool, Lark!”   

“Whatever, that’s Orgar’s handwriting!”   

“Doesn’t matter, we roll with it. Act like it was planned.”   

“Yeah, you’re right, we’re good.”   

  

They stroll back, whistling, then look up suddenly and shout in unison:   

“Wooo! Check this out, Arthur, a firework! So cool, I didn’t even notice!”   

I glance at Rikami, who chuckles softly.   

“Pretend to be surprised, they worked hard,” she whispers.   

“Amazing, guys! Is this for us?”   

“Yeah! For your arrival and the elite squad!” Lark beams proudly.   

“Come on, let’s celebrate!” Hanneki adds.   

  

I enter the large building with Rikami, Yura, and Leyart. The interior has been transformed into a festive hall: tables laden with food, a bard strumming a lyre in the corner, and an electric atmosphere.   

Lark approaches, pointing at Leyart.   

“Who’s this guy?”   

“I’m Leyart. I’m coming with you, if that’s okay.”   

“Awesome! But… where’s your arm?”   

“You don’t ask that kind of question to a stranger, Lark,” I snap, a bit sharply.   

“Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to be rude!”   

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Leyart says.   

“Look, Arthur and I are exhausted from the trip. Can you show us where to sleep?”   

  

Orgar places a hand on Lark’s shoulder.   

“I’ll take over. Go have fun.”   

Lark wishes us good night and darts into the crowd.   

  

We step outside with Orgar, crossing the village under a starry sky.   

“You know, Arthur, this is a big turning point for us all,” Orgar begins. “Adventure, at last! The two hotheads dream of following in Rikami and the late Lord Lancelot’s footsteps. By the way, on behalf of Driul, our deepest condolences. Lancelot was exceptional.”   

“Thanks, Orgar. I’m sure we’ll make a great team.”   

“No doubt. You’ll just need to rein in those two tornados sometimes. But they’re golden— you could trust them with your life blindfolded. I hope we’ll get there with you and Leyart.”   

“Count on me!”   

“Good. Here’s your house. Not a palace, but it’ll do for sleeping. Leyart, you can stay at mine if you want; we weren’t expecting you, sorry.”   

“Come to mine, Leyart,” I offer.   

“That works for me, Arthur. Sorry, Orgar, but I’d rather keep an eye on my buddy.”   

“Haha! No worries. Here’s the key. Water’s at the well, and for food, see Alucard, Napoli’s son. He hunts and guards the village.”   

“Thanks, Orgar, you’re the best. And this welcome—honestly, it was amazing.”   

“It’s only natural.”   

  

Leyart and I enter the house. It’s simple—a kitchen, a living room with a fireplace, a bathroom, a bedroom—not bad for a backwater village.   

“I’ll take the couch, Leyart. You take the bed. To make up for that awful night with Grik,” I joke.   

“Since you insist, I won’t argue. Thanks,” he chuckles.   

We collapse, and sleep overtakes us in a blink.   

  

Ah! My head! A voice pierces the darkness. My vision blurs, veiled.   

An immense shadow looms in the distance, a monstrous body sprawled on the ground. Flames devour houses, a dark forest stretches out, seven swords whirl in the sky, a lake of lava bubbles, a dwarf cackles on the horizon.   

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”   

A cursed woman, a box, portals opening.   

“LANCELOT?!”   

More flames, the swords, a woman, a little girl, a banquet.   

  

Leyart shakes me.   

“Arthur?! You okay?”   

“Just a nightmare. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”   

“If you want to talk, I’m here.”   

“Thanks, my friend. I’ll try to sleep again.”