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Half a day later.

The scene shifted to the village infirmary. White cloth partitions surrounded a simple bed, creating a small, isolated space beneath softly buzzing lights.

Yuki Nonaka sat quietly beside the bed, holding a cup of tea between both hands. Golden twilight streamed through the window, lighting her face with a warm glow. Wisps of steam curled lazily upward from her cup, drifting slowly into the quiet air.

She'd been holding that same cup for nearly five hours.

Ever since Bokue had been carried unconscious into the infirmary, she'd kept a cup of tea ready for him. Whenever the tea cooled, she took a tiny sip and topped it up with hot water, keeping it at precisely the right temperature.

That way, when he finally woke up, he'd immediately have something warm to drink. No dust. No stale water. Just perfect warmth.

Resting at the head of the bed was Brynhildr, the great demon-slaying sword, its emerald gem glistening gently beneath the lamp—waiting, like her, for Bokue's eyes to open.

"Mm..."

At that very moment, a soft groan broke the silence.

Bokue Keikain slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He licked his dry lips thoughtfully.

"Ah... the classic 'unfamiliar ceiling' moment, huh?"

"Bokue...!"

Noticing he'd finally woken up, Yuki swiftly set her tea aside and raised both hands instinctively—looking as if she intended to throw herself into his arms. Yet she hesitated, hands trembling halfway in the air, suddenly worried she might worsen an unseen injury.

So she froze in place, eyes wide, voice uncertain.

"You—you're alright? You feel okay...?"

"Alright?" Bokue stretched with surprising ease, sitting straight up on the bed like he'd just woken from a quick nap—not a life-or-death battle against a demonic horde. "Honestly, I feel fine. Nothing really hurts at all."

Then, he paused suddenly.

"Wait a sec—!"

Before Yuki could react, Bokue hurriedly pulled open the collar of his shirt, quickly inspecting the place near his collarbone where the sword had impaled him earlier.

Nothing. No wounds, no scars—not even a faint mark. Even the bloodstains were gone, completely vanished.

"So... I've basically turned into Kratos now, huh?"

He murmured softly, recalling vividly the opening scene from God of War, where Kratos could shrug off mortal injuries and magically pull his blood back into his body.

And just like that legendary warrior, Bokue had healed completely—no wounds, no blood—simply by sleeping it off.

He half-expected that his next move would be to charge off and start tearing down gods with bare hands.

Time to go Spartan Rage, huh?

But before he could get lost in that particular daydream, Yuki's quiet voice pulled him gently back to reality:

"Actually... I cleaned off the blood for you."

"Hm?" He blinked, startled from his fantasies. Then, with an embarrassed sigh, Bokue scratched his cheek awkwardly, offering a sheepish smile to the girl sitting calmly beside him.

"Ah... well, thanks. Sorry for the trouble, Yuki."

"No, not at all. Actually, I should be thanking you..." She trailed off unexpectedly, her voice lowering to a faint whisper. A soft pink flush crept across her usually pale cheeks, her eyes darting nervously aside.

Bokue blinked slowly, utterly confused.

"Hm? You were saying 'you should thank...' what exactly?"

"You heard wrong. Nothing," Yuki mumbled quickly, keeping her face turned away. Still blushing faintly, she handed over the freshly warmed tea she'd prepared earlier.

"Anyway—thanks for the meal. Also, you've been unconscious for half a day, so drink this first. I'll have Kurumi fetch some food shortly. Yura was really worried about you too."

"Oh...?"

Though still puzzled by her unusual phrasing—what "meal" exactly?—Bokue accepted the tea gratefully and gulped it down immediately, soothing his painfully dry throat.

❁❁❁❁

Meanwhile, in the village's main meeting hall, several shadowed figures sat quietly around a large, oval-shaped table.

The setting sun's fading glow barely penetrated thick curtains, casting the room into murky twilight, obscuring each face in shadow.

Finally, an elderly voice broke the heavy silence.

"Seito acted recklessly. His impulsiveness not only cost him his life but also left our village severely weakened."

"Yes..."

"That fool, Seito—this is all on him."

With the elder having spoken first, complaints quickly followed. Each person voiced their grievances openly, bitterly—soon turning the room into a heated blame game.

Not that it could be helped. While their village carried the title "Hero Village," it essentially functioned more like a mercenary stronghold. Heroes couldn't survive on honor and virtue alone. They needed contracts, missions—paid jobs—to survive and sustain the village economy.

Most adults spent their days on missions far away, leaving behind only those weaker warriors unable—or unwilling—to take missions.

In short, the ones left behind were glorified slackers.

That's precisely why the village's exact location had always remained strictly hidden.

But now, after the demonic disaster, their internal security force was practically annihilated. Nearly ninety percent of their defensive manpower was lost in one fell swoop, leaving them dangerously exposed and weak.

"Now, the Keikain Clan is going to be a serious problem..." The elder sighed deeply again, frustration clear in his voice.

They'd once stood as equals. Now, the village was in ruins. Death toll catastrophic. News this severe couldn't possibly stay hidden—especially with so many Keikain branch family members currently staying within their village borders. If word got back to the Keikain main family, tomorrow the village might as well bear the Keikain name.

"Maybe..." Another voice suddenly spoke up from the corner of the table. "We can make a deal with them."

"A deal?" The elder's voice sharpened curiously.

"Exactly." The speaker nodded calmly.

"First, we deal harshly with the cowards who ran from battle earlier. We must punish them severely—this is to show good faith to the Keikain family."

"Then we make a request directly to the Keikain Clan: Allow us to seal Bokue Keikain. Our explanation will be simple: Bokue's powers have awakened too early and too violently. He's young, unstable, emotionally unbalanced—and if he goes out of control, the destruction will be unthinkable."

"You—you're seriously suggesting we seal the Keikain's Acting Head?!" Another voice sputtered in disbelief. "How would they ever agree to something like that? And if their main family found out—"

"So what if they do?" the voice interjected smoothly. "Isn't everyone visiting right now just from Keikain branch families anyway?"

"Yes, but..."

"No buts," he replied firmly. "Branch families want power, influence, and recognition. Trust me—they'll jump at the chance. And they'll handle smoothing things over with their main family for us."

The speaker paused deliberately, allowing his words to sink in before continuing with a soft smirk:

"In fact—I've already invited them here. They're waiting right outside the door as we speak... Please come in, honored family heads."

Slowly, quietly, the meeting hall door swung open, revealing three shadowed figures standing silently in the doorway.

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