The bar was almost empty, the amber light from the lamps reflecting off the mead glasses on the counter. Shouma Kisaragi was slumped in his chair, his face half-hidden by his red hair and haggard expression. Yui was wiping the glasses with an old cloth, while watching him drink with alarming frequency.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" he asked, trying to hide his concern.
"I'm still standing... so order another round," he muttered, barely able to keep his eyes open.
Yui sighed and poured another shot. She already knew him well enough to know that something serious was afflicting him.
"What's the matter, Shouma? As an attendant, I have to listen to customers' pains, it's part of the job, you know."
He was silent for a moment, then snorted in defeat.
"It's Arisa. She acts as if I'm invisible... or worse, as if she hates me."
"That's kind of normal," said Yui, smiling. "She's been like that since school. She never liked being lusted after. She's always been the type to knock boys down with her gaze."
Shouma laughed, sinking her face into her glass. "Haha, good to know I'm not the only one rejected..."
For a few seconds, silence hung between them. Yui hesitated before speaking again.
"Shouma... everyone here seems to have awakened the Way of the Hero. Except me. Do you have any idea why?"
He paused, staring at the ceiling with a lost look on his face.
"I can't give you a certain answer... I don't think there's a formula." He sobbed. "It's something that happens when you least expect it."
Yui lowered her gaze in frustration.
"But... If you want, I can tell you how it happened to me. Maybe it'll help you find some answers."
She nodded, attentive.
"All right... Let's go. That was five years ago..."
○
It was a cold, cloudy day. The wind blew dry leaves across the empty courtyard of the elite school, whistling through the forgotten corners of the place.
At the back, in a narrow alleyway between the buildings, Shouma was trapped. His back pressed against the rough concrete wall, his school uniform stained with dirt and torn in several places. Three bigger boys surrounded him. They were laughing. The sound reverberated in Shouma's ears like a constant hum, as unbearable as the tightness in his chest.
"This school isn't for people like you, you piece of trash!" one of the aggressors shouted, with a look of disdain. His voice sounded sharp, like a blade driven deep.
Before he could react, Shouma felt the impact of a direct kick to the stomach. The air escaped from his lungs. He bent over, kneeling on the dirty floor, desperately trying to breathe.
The pain tore him up inside, but it wasn't just physical. The humiliation burned. The bitter taste of shame dried up his mouth, and his eyes burned, threatening to overflow.
He wanted to scream. To respond in some way. But the words got lost in his throat. Perhaps, somewhere inside him, he knew it wouldn't do any good.
There, being poor was a crime. Son of a simple cook. A scholarship student. A nobody.
The three aggressors needed no other reason.
"Look, he's going to cry!" laughed the second boy, pushing Shouma back to the ground with a sudden movement.
Shouma's body fell heavily, and he could taste blood on his lips. His uniform, which his mother had sewn so carefully, was now in tatters, exposed to the dirt.
And that hurt more than any kick.
"Let's get this over with," said the third, with a cruel smile. He pulled Shouma by the collar, forcibly lifting him up. "People like you should know their place."
Just as the final blow was about to be struck, something happened.
An intense light burst into the hallway.
It wasn't the kind of light that was blinding; it was as if the air around them shook with a force that didn't belong in that world. Shouma blinked, confused. He felt his body being swallowed up by it.
Everything became a blur.
○
He woke up with the smell of straw invading his nostrils. His head throbbed and his muscles were stiff, as if they had been stretched beyond their limit. He coughed, feeling the metallic taste of blood still in his mouth. The breeze was cold, icy enough to chill his skin.
He blinked, trying to understand where he was. He was lying on dry hay, sprawled inside something that looked like... a nest? A huge nest.
His heart began to race. It wasn't possible. It didn't make sense. He stood up slowly, his body still sore, but when his eyes adjusted to the daylight, he saw it.
The expanse of mountains before him was colossal. Peaks so high that they pierced the clouds, like stone swords stuck in the sky. But it was what was at the center of that scene that made Shouma freeze.
A gigantic creature stood watching him. A dragon. Red as live coals. Four wings rose imposingly on its back, while its golden eyes stared at Shouma with a cold, distant intelligence.
Shouma stepped back, his heart hammering against his chest. The air seemed heavier.
Next to the dragon, barely visible at first glance, was a hatchling. But what was it doing?
Shouma saw something in the creature's teeth. Tissue, flesh... human parts.
His stomach churned.
It was the three boys.
Their bodies lay at the cub's feet, shattered, torn apart like broken toys. Blood dripped from their mouths and lifeless eyes, forming dark pools on the rocky ground. The cub growled quietly, chewing on the remains of one of its attackers.
Shouma swallowed, his throat dry. There was nothing she could do. He wanted to scream, run, anything... but he was stuck in place.
It was then that the cub looked up at him. It dropped what was left of its body into his mouth and started to move towards him.
The survival instinct screamed inside him. Shouma tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't respond. He felt the panic growing, the chill running down his spine. The cub was getting closer and closer. Its tiny wings were beating hard, propelling it into high, agile leaps, as if each jump was a step closer to death.
And then... at the last second, something changed.
A voice echoed inside Shouma's head. It wasn't his, but it sounded familiar.
[He who dwells within you can no longer lower himself. From this status you must leave, and the weakest you must command. With the authority granted to me, I offer it].
[Skill "Taming of All Beasts" activated].
Suddenly, the cub stopped. Its eyes lost their ferocity. Instead of attacking him, the creature lowered its head and, with a soft growl, licked Shouma's face.
The metallic smell of blood covered him, mixing with his cold sweat.
Shouma was still shaking, not quite understanding what had happened, but the dragon seemed submissive, almost docile. It was surreal.
The mother dragon, noticing the change in her cub's behavior, let out a deafening roar. The ground shook under the weight of her rage, and she opened her jaws, preparing to incinerate the intruder who had dared to control her child.
But before she could release the flames, a blade sliced through the air.
In one swift, sharp blow, the creature's head fell off.
The mother's giant body fell heavily to the ground.
A man emerged from the smoke rising from the corpse. He was wearing light armor, but his presence was so dense that it seemed to weigh down the air. His eyes were cold, calculating, and the aura that surrounded him was one of pure power.
He approached Shouma with slow steps, stroking the puppy along the way as if it were an ordinary pet.
When he came face to face with the boy, Shouma was still trembling, barely able to stand. The man watched him for a moment, then put his hand on his head.
"People like you don't usually survive here." His voice was low, but laden with authority. "You have potential. Rare, but it exists."
Shouma remained silent, his eyes wide, his mind processing everything in slow motion.
"Be my sword." the man continued, his hand firmly on Shouma's. "And I'll make sure nothing happens to you. I'll always be there."
He withdrew his hand and held it out, offering a silent pact.
"Call me Maestro."
Shouma, still trembling, took the man's hand.
And at that moment, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
○
Back in the present day, Shouma was slumped over a bar table, completely drunk, his voice slurred as he mumbled the fragments of his story.
Yui, who was cleaning the glasses behind the bar, listened in silence, not knowing how he could tell something so dark in that condition.
But she did know one thing: the labyrinth was relentless, breaking everyone before giving them any power.
And, even after all she had been through, her own ability had yet to awaken.
She sighed, continuing to clean her glasses, wondering what the future might hold.