"O noble hero! It is an honor!"

Rilian puffed out his chest atop his steed, then set a foot to the ground to kiss the girl’s hand.

"Thank you, fair lady. Perhaps you would join me for a meal when I return from my audience with the emperor?"

The girl blushed.

"Oh, it would be a pleasure, but could you ask him to join us too?"

"W-what? Who?"

"Why, your father of course! I’m such a fan, it would be an honor to meet him!"

"Huh?! But—"

"Oh yes! We want to see your father!" interrupted another girl. The crowd grew even more restless.

"Where is the hero of the arena?"

"But I’m the hero who just—"

"We want to see Captain Doran!"

Rilian staggered back two steps, his stomach in knots. His back bumped into something solid. He turned and met two cold blue eyes, full of judgment. His face was stern and closed, as always.

The crowd’s excitement reached its peak. "Doran!" Then, in the severe tone he knew so well, his father said:

"You? A hero? Just because you defeated a little monster? If you keep basking in your petty exploits without training, you’ll never be a real hero!"

The crowd began chanting.

"Never a hero! Never a hero!"

"No, stop!"

"...ever a hero!"

"STOOOOP!"

A monumental slap struck him.

"Wake up now, you’ll never be a hero if you keep sleeping!"

"Ouch!"

Rilian opened his eyes. Shaeka stood before him, tears in her eyes, her hand ready for another slap.

"Alright! I’m awake! Why such violence—"

"This is no time, Rilian! We’re in danger!"

"Huh?" Rilian tried to raise his hand to rub his sore cheek, but he couldn’t, for it was bound to his other hand.

Shocked, he took in his surroundings. They were no longer in the small forest along the river from the day before. No. They were locked in a large, dark, foul-smelling cell, inside an empty, windowless room. The walls were carved from stone, making him think they were either in a basement or a fitted cave. A single small door gave access to the outside, set beyond the bars. Next to the door, their belongings, including weapons, were piled on a wooden rack.

His companions were in the cell with him, but they weren’t alone. Huddled in the corners, about fifteen people pressed together, trembling, eyes wide with fear. All were shackled. Rilian tried to force his own shackles, without success. Shaeka spoke again:

"It’s useless. These are the same slaver manacles they use on my people. We can’t use our skills, or our magic. And they sap our strength too."

"H-how? Yeoman, don’t tell me you fell asleep on watch again!"

The accused gave him an indignant look, but Osim answered instead. He stood leaning against the bars, arms crossed.

"It was on my watch, and no, I didn’t fall asleep. We were ambushed by slavers, and they had a mage with them. He cast a sleep spell on us."

"A sleep spell? That doesn’t exist, does it?"

"In theory, no. But I think he possesses a unique magic."

"A unique magic? But wait, that’s incredibly rare! There aren’t even fifty known unique magic users across the whole continent! And what would someone like that be doing with mere slavers?"

"As you said, only about fifty are recorded, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more. Either way, we couldn’t have done anything. It was brief, but I felt his magic. He had at least the level of an Archmage. As for his reasons, I have no idea. Griak overheard them talking about building an army for a sect."

An Archmage? The sect? The one from rumors? Rilian swallowed hard. Griak, sitting cross-legged with arms folded, nodded gravely. He spoke.

"Rilian. That’s not all. We’re missing someone."

Rilian was suddenly struck by realization. He looked around the cell again to be sure.

"Alice… where is she?"

[...]

Alice stared at the man with his back to her, cold sweat running down her temple. He was tall and thin, clad in a black mage’s robe embroidered with threads of gold. His clean-shaven face showed about fifty years of age, and fine rectangular glasses gave him a strict air. His graying hair, once brown, was cut short and neatly combed back. A foul magical aura emanated from him. But what truly froze Alice’s blood was what [Inspect] revealed.

[Johansen Brakar]

Race: Human

Class: Archmage   Level: 92

Please raise your level of [Inspect]

to obtain more information.

She cursed old Tom inwardly. Levels 90 and above are extremely rare? Then what was this monster doing before her?

She had woken up a little earlier to find she was no longer beside her companions, but chained to the rocky wall of some kind of fitted cave. She wasn’t far from the exit. For around a corner she could see a shaft of natural light casting shadows on the rough stone. The air was damp and stuffy, due to a small campfire whose smoke struggled to escape. A branding iron was glowing red in the fire.

At the back of the dim cave, there seemed to be a passage leading into a network of galleries within the rock. From there emerged a tall, scarred man holding Alice’s Mist Cloak.

She recognized him immediately.

The slaver from yesterday! So he had seen her? Alice inspected him and saw he was only level 25.

His gaze met hers and, with a cruel smile, he approached the mage.

"I just had the cloak identified by the priest. It’s definitely a concealment item."

"That must be how she’s evaded the hunt for so long!"

"A vampire of this quality doesn’t come around often! If we sold her on the black market, we’d make a fortune! With that pretty little face, I’m sure all the old nobles of the Empire would fight at auction to have her."

"No. My master ordered that all captured vampires be sent to the Avalon division. Doctor Acrid has requested them for his experiments. And you’ll also deliver the other vampire you captured."

"W-what? But slaves bring the most money!"

"You get paid regardless. What are you complaining about?"

"Really, you’ll have to explain what you’re doing someday. You’re building an army of slaves, amassing wealth, and now experimenting on vampires. Are you preparing for war or what?"

The Archmage bared white teeth in a predatory smile that made the slaver step back.

"Trust me. You don’t want to know."

"O-okay…"

"I must go to Diosens on a mission. Once you’ve dropped the new 'recruits' at the capital for conditioning, you will deliver the vampires to Acrid."

The other man muttered something about how much easier it was to capture people asleep with magic. The mage headed toward the exit, then turned back.

"I almost forgot. Maribelle is on her way to assist with the transfer. Be ready to welcome her. And do not make any mistakes that could endanger the great plan, or I’ll send you to Acrid myself!"

Ding!

[Main Quest]

You are in a very bad situation. Escape before Maribelle arrives.

Reward: Experience.

Time remaining: 40 minutes.

A quest now? And a timer? Alice worried what would happen when it reached zero. Was this Maribelle another monster like Johansen?

The slaver bowed deeply and waited for the mage to leave the cave before spitting on the ground.

"Damn sect! First that arrogant bastard and now the murderous hag? As soon as this job’s done, I’m ditching them. Anyway…"

He picked up the red-hot iron from the fire. At its tip, a symbol shaped like chains glowed white-hot. He turned to Alice with a wicked smile.

"Just you and me, pretty thing! This is going to hurt, hehe!"

Alice, relieved to have been ignored until now, pressed back against the wall. She tried to break her chains, but for some reason, she couldn’t gather her strength, let alone her magic. She swallowed hard as the man approached, legs trembling, her heart recoiling at the thought of the iron touching her skin.

[...]

Rilian had been shaking the bars with all his strength for five minutes now. Osim watched him with a weary, helpless look.

"Stop. It’s pointless, you’re only wearing yourself out."

Rilian let out a roar of frustration, kicked the bars, and sat back down beside Shaeka, limping slightly.

"Those bastards, I’ll make them pay if they lay a hand on her!"

The Faërenne looked at him thoughtfully, then asked, fists clenched:

"You worry a lot about her, don’t you?"

"Of course! We were responsible for her! She’s alone with that mage who took her for who knows what. She must be terrified."

Shaeka didn’t answer immediately, lost in thought.

"I’m terrified too, and I don’t want to die! Not before freeing my people."

"Shaeka..."

"And besides… you know, I… I need to tell you… in case… I…"

BAAM!

The wooden door burst open, two men stepping in. One short and round, the other tall and thin. They seemed heavily drunk. The shorter one banged his staff against the bars.

"What’s all this noise? I’ll teach you to make such a racket!"

Rilian jumped to his feet and stepped forward, eyes dark. He noticed a key ring hanging from the man’s belt.

"Where did you take the girl who was with us? What do you want with her?"

"The vampire? The boss wants to brand her!"

Shaeka and Griak leapt up, shocked. Osim didn’t look surprised. Yeoman’s gaze darkened. Rilian answered in disbelief:

"Huh?! What vampire? I’m talking about Alice, the one who was with us!"

"Quit trying to fool me! The little blonde with the strange eyes! The boss spotted her in Odette! He’s an expert at sniffing out those monsters, hahaha!"

A low growl echoed behind him. The man, startled, spun around. He saw nothing but his companion.

"Hey! Why’d you do that? You scared me!"

"But I didn’t do anything. You really need to lay off the booze!"

The short one, suddenly less confident, scanned the room, then shrugged. Turning back to Rilian, his arrogant look returned.

"Anyway, you didn’t seem to know who you were traveling with. Maybe we saved you from that monster, hehe. She’ll probably be sold at auction to some perverted old noble. Vampires fetch a high price!"

Another growl sounded. This time, heavier, more menacing. The air filled with static electricity. The man, irritated, turned again to his friend.

"Cut it out already! And I’m the one drinking too much?"

The tall man didn’t reply, his eyes wide, fixed on a corner of the room. The first followed his gaze and his mouth fell open. The air there shimmered, filled with mist and electricity. He backed up, staff raised, trembling.

Then the mist took shape, forming a wolf cloaked in shadows and lightning. Its yellow, feral eyes, and its maw full of sharp fangs, promised certain death.

Without hesitation, the beast leapt like a bolt of lightning at the slaver. The poor man had no time to react before he was on the ground, throat torn, blood spilling in a choking gurgle.

The other unfortunate had fallen on his backside, arms raised in a useless defensive gesture.

"B-back off, you beast!"

The young Fenrir advanced on him, savoring his fear. Rilian turned his head from the carnage, waiting until the cries of pain stopped. Then he looked back to see Hati, muzzle bloody, carrying the key ring.

"B-bravo, Hati! You’re a good… dog? You won’t bite me too, will you?"

The beast dropped the key ring in front of the cell and padded toward the door to wait.