Apollo wanted to tie up a few loose ends before leaving Belthias. He didn't want the city falling into chaos the moment he stepped away.

The Headmasters, Nathan, and the Mayor were capable. If another Devil-level threat came, they wouldn't be caught off guard. They'd been preparing. And if things got worse, the Main Continent wouldn't stay silent either. One request from Axton, and the Great Serpent Cultivation School's headquarters would dispatch reinforcements.

But Apollo wanted more than preparation—he wanted certainty. His Beggar Spot had to remain safe.

He glanced at his Alm Points, now reduced to a meager fifty. Just days ago, he had nearly two hundred, earned through painstaking patience. The Automatic Alm Point Producer he purchased from the System wasn't cutting it—too slow. Even with Don begging diligently, the gains were minimal.

Not every minute brought generosity. Sometimes, Don would earn just a single bronze coin. One coin, one Alm Point.

And Apollo couldn't force people to give. That went against the very essence of the Beggar System.

A true Beggar—unassisted, unmanipulated, pure in purpose. That was the System's demand. No shortcuts. No exploitation.

He was already tired of getting annoyed at the System's rigidity, but he had no choice. He had to live with it.

Still, Apollo wanted more Alm Points. More efficiency.

Don alone wasn't enough.

One Beggar Spot wasn't enough.

Apollo's eyes shifted to his new disciples. Don and Rachel stood at the front, backs straight as poles, expressions solemn. They held their breaths, awaiting his voice.

Behind them, the rest stood—ten in total, all now registered under his System.

They were young. Faces still touched with innocence, some clumsy in their posture but trying their best, mimicking the seriousness of their seniors.

Apollo had wanted protectors. For his Beggar Spot. For this city.

And now, those protectors stood before him.

They were still kids, yes, but their eyes burned with desire. A desire so bright it felt like staring into the sun—blinding, yet inspiring.

Not all of them were talented. Even Rachel, despite her determination, wasn't a genius.

But Apollo didn't choose them for their talent. He chose them because he saw potential. He saw what they could become.

Ironically, all he originally wanted was help—people who could guard his Beggar Spot and boost his Alm Points. Simple. Self-serving.

And yet… here he was. Training them. Preparing them. Caring for them.

He admitted it: he was conflicted. His decision came from a mix of logic, emotion, and whim.

But this path benefited everyone. Himself. His disciples. And the city.

He exhaled and stepped forward, breaking the silence.

"Everyone," Apollo said. His voice was soft, but clear. It carried to every ear on the training ground.

The children straightened, feet firm on the earth.

"This is your first lesson. As a group. As one," Apollo's eyes swept across the ten of them.

An even split—five boys, five girls. But to him, they were the same. Equal. Unified.

"You will become the hidden daggers," he said. "Protect what you want. Who you want. Be the shadows… and the light. No one stands above another. You'll watch each other's backs."

He paused.

"From this day forward… you are officially my disciples."

As his words echoed in the air, Apollo flicked his fingers behind his back. A gentle breeze rolled across the field, swaying grass and fabric, creating a soft rustle that matched the moment's weight.

The younger disciples couldn't fully grasp what he meant. They heard the words, but the meaning still escaped them.

Only Don and Rachel understood.

And they stood taller because of it.

But Apollo? He just said whatever he wanted, even if it didn't make sense.

"You cannot turn against each other. One must protect the other. Freedom is in your hands—but only when you have the strength to back it up. As my official Disciples, you will train to become strong… and to become a True Beggar," Apollo said, his voice firm, carrying a weight that made the children instinctively take a deep breath.

Some of them didn't understand.

What is a True Beggar?

They weren't sure. But it sounded cool.

"You will live my life," Apollo smiled. "And you will become a mountain."

D*mn, I've always wanted to say something like that, Apollo thought as he puffed up his chest.

Some of his words didn't make sense, but that didn't matter. He was talking to kids, not sages.

"Freedom is in your hands but only when you have the strength to back it up?" That was bullsh*t. That wasn't freedom. That was slavery to power. True freedom didn't demand strength. It didn't demand anything. It's just that the world had gone insane.

In truth, Apollo didn't even believe in freedom. Not anymore.

But back to the important matter—he had to explain their purpose. Straightforward, this time. Something they could grasp.

"As my Disciples, you will become Beggars. Your status will be lower than it is now," he said, carefully watching their faces for hesitation.

Nothing.

They stood tall. Proud.

They didn't care about status.

Good.

Apollo nodded slightly, then continued. There wasn't much else to say. He'd delivered what mattered. They would guard the Beggar Spot. They would beg for money. No tricks. No exploitation. Just pure begging—true to the System's principles.

Silence remained. No objections. Only shining eyes of quiet resolve.

They understood what they were getting into. Apollo had promised strength—enough to protect their people, their loved ones, and this city.

That was enough.

They were innocent, but they wanted to protect. They didn't want to be victims anymore. Apollo respected that. They were even willing to lower themselves, to wear the title of Beggar for the rest of their lives… and they didn't flinch.

After explaining their duties, operations, and expectations, Apollo let out a long sigh.

Thankfully, the System allows disciples to beg across the city now. They weren't bound to a single Beggar Spot anymore. If all ten had to beg in the same place, it would've been too crowded. Might've even backfired.

He shook his head and gestured for Don.

"Come here."

Don stepped forward, head high, shoulders proud.

Apollo raised a brow. "Why are you acting so smug?"

"Hehe," Don scratched the back of his head, grinning. "I'm the first Disciple. Basically their Senior. I just… like the feeling, that's all."

"You won't have time to enjoy their admiration," Apollo rolled his eyes, handing him a leather pouch. "We're leaving tonight. Here—distribute this to them."

Don took the pouch. One peek inside and his grin vanished. His eyes widened in disbelief—and fear.

"Th-this…" Don's voice trembled. He looked up at Apollo with shaking lips. "Does this include me?"

Apollo smirked. "Yes."