The guild hall buzzed with energy as adventurers gathered to discuss the latest quest issued by the Greater Council. Whispers filled the air about a boy who might hold the key to defeating the demon clan.
Yet, the most powerful figure in the room—Hercules, one of the legendary Big Three and mentor to both Arthur and Thor—showed little interest in the mission. With a dismissive wave, he left the matter in the hands of his students, as if the fate of the world were just another passing concern.
While the Outcasts party was eager to set off at dawn, ready to chase whatever destiny awaited them, the Asgardians party chose to linger in Legostream a little longer. They had unfinished business—a dungeon quest that demanded their attention before they could consider anything else.
As the guild hall buzzed with strategy and speculation, Lucy approached Arthur, signalling for a private conversation. At the same time, Fay seized the opportunity to speak with Hana in a quieter corner of the hall.
Hana leaned casually against a wooden post, arms crossed, as Fay approached in a state of seriousness. Without a word, Fay suddenly bowed, her forehead nearly touching the floor.
"Thank you," she said, voice steady yet filled with emotion. "You didn't just save me during the demon lord attack... but also when Thor turned on me in the dungeon."
Hana chuckled, tilting her head. "Oh, don't mention it," she said with a warm smile. "But if I'm being honest... I don't think you needed me."
Fay's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Hana studied her for a moment before speaking, her voice laced with certainty.
"Since I was a child, I've had a knack for sensing strength in people. And you, Fay… you're powerful. More powerful than you let on. I just don't understand why you hide it."
Without waiting for a response, Hana turned and started walking back toward the bustling hall. Fay stood frozen, her mind racing, grappling with the weight of Hana's words.
Then, Hana paused. Over her shoulder, she threw one last comment, her tone light but sincere.
"You know," she said with a gentle smile, "this is the longest we've ever had real girl time together... and I think I like it."
She walked away, leaving Fay standing there—speechless, yet with a small, unexpected smile forming on her lips.
She had always kept the group at arm's length, with the exception of her best friend, Maxwell. But now, for the first time, she felt a flicker of hope… a possibility of friendship with Hana.
Meanwhile, in a more secluded corner of the guild hall, Lucy fixed Arthur with a knowing look.
"Earlier, you made a joke about being attacked by the demon clan," she began, her voice calm but firm. "At first, I didn't take you seriously. But you weren't joking, were you?"
Arthur held her gaze, realizing there was no use in dodging the truth. She had already pieced it together.
"It was your party, wasn't it?" she pressed. "You were the adventurers who encountered the Demon Lord."
A heavy silence stretched between them. Arthur finally exhaled, nodding in quiet admission.
Lucy's mind worked quickly, connecting the dots. "That means... the Demon Lord was killed just outside the city. Not far from Legostream."
Arthur tensed. "Keep this to yourself," he urged. "If word gets out, it'll cause unnecessary panic."
Lucy considered him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. I'll keep it between us."
Their conversation ended, but the weight of the revelation lingered. The events of the past were no longer just whispers in the dark—they were now secrets that could shake the foundation of everything they knew.
By sunrise, most adventurers had already set out on their quest—to find the boy with the black rock.
The Outcasts were preparing to depart when an unexpected visitor arrived. Mr. Pendragon, a man of unwavering authority and the weight of a legacy too heavy to ignore, had come specifically to speak with Arthur.
Arthur straightened immediately as his father gestured for a private word.
"I see you're ready," Mr. Pendragon remarked, his gaze sweeping over his son.
"Yes, sir," Arthur responded, standing rigid. There was both fear and respect in his voice—emotions deeply ingrained from childhood.
Mr. Pendragon studied him, his expression unreadable. "Good. I trust you understand how important this mission is? You've already disappointed me once... letting another claim victory over the Demon Lord while you lay face-down in the dirt." His words were sharp, cutting into Arthur like a blade. "Do not fail me again, son. The Pendragon name is too important for failures."
Arthur remained silent, his father's words sinking into him. As Mr. Pendragon turned to leave, for the briefest moment, there was something in Arthur expression—perhaps a flicker of sadness, or maybe regret. But it was gone before anyone could notice.
The team finally set out, and as expected, Arthur once again used Maxwell as a walking luggage carrier. Maxwell, however, barely noticed. He was lost in thought, trying to decipher the nature of his strange ability—plot armour.
From all the fictional books Maxwell had read, plot armour was something given to protagonists—an invisible force ensuring their survival against overwhelming odds. In other words, fate itself was on their side.
This explained why his ability only activated when things were truly dire. When he faced those goblins, for example, the odds hadn't been stacked against him; he should have been able to win on his own. That meant his power only worked when he truly had no way out.
It was an incredible ability, one that allowed him to achieve the impossible. But Maxwell couldn't shake the feeling that it had its limits. The biggest challenge wasn't what the ability could do—it was how to trigger it at will.
Then there was the second requirement. Plot armour didn't just work when he was in danger; it also required him to act like a hero. But what did that really mean? Was it about self-sacrifice? Courage? He wasn't sure.
For now, his questions would have to wait.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
The Outcasts scoured the land, searching for any trace of the boy holding a black rock with a ying and yang symbol embedded on his eyes. They asked bystanders, chased rumours, and followed every lead—only to find themselves no closer to their goal.
As time dragged on, they understood why the bounty on this quest was so high. This was not a simple search. The descriptions they had of the boy were unreliable at best, based only on what the late Demon Lord Tadesse had provided.
They had no real leads. No certainty. For all they knew, the boy could have walked right past them, and they wouldn't have recognized him.
At this rate, it might take years to find him.
Three months into their journey, the Outcasts stumbled upon a small, secluded town known as Heaven's Peak. Weary from the road, they planned to settle there for a few days—restocking supplies, gathering information, and, more importantly, giving their exhausted bodies a chance to recover.
However, as they approached the town, they were met with an unexpected sight. Heaven's Peak was already occupied—not by hostile forces, but by another adventuring party.
Immediately, the Outcasts were on guard, their hands inching toward their weapons. But there was no hostility in the air. These weren't rival adventurers searching for the boy with the black rock. In fact, they hadn't even heard of the quest.
This party, known as The Elementals, had been hired for an entirely different mission: protecting the town from roaming bandits.
Their leader, Cevic, was a fire magic user, polite yet commanding in presence. His party was small but specialized—each member wielding control over one of the four elements: fire, water, air, and earth.
Cevic greeted Arthur with a friendly smile, welcoming the Outcasts to Heaven's Peak.
But something felt off.
Though the townspeople appeared happy—going about their daily lives with warm smiles—there was an underlying tension in the air. A feeling Arthur couldn't shake. And he wasn't the only one. The rest of the Outcasts sensed it too.
Everyone except Maxwell.
Far away, across the darkened lands of the Demon Continent, the 2nd Demon Lord sat upon his throne, deep in thought. The time had come to act.
He summoned the 9th Demon Lord, a creature known not for brute strength, but for his unrivalled ability to track prey.
The moment the 9th Demon Lord entered, he dropped to one knee in respect.
"It is time," the 2nd Demon Lord declared. His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight of authority. "Where Tadesse failed, you will not. Finding people is your specialty—find the boy with the eyes of balance and retrieve Gin for us."
A wicked grin spread across the 9th Demon Lord's face.
"And," the 2nd Demon Lord added, his voice sharpening, "while you're at it… kill whoever was responsible for Tadesse's death. It may not be a priority for the Demon King, but it is for me."
The 9th Demon Lord bowed his head lower, his grin never fading. "As you wish."
As he turned to leave, the 2nd Demon Lord's voice cut through the air once more.
"Remember, I said kill him—not torture him. You've grown far too fond of that little habit of yours."
The 9th chuckled. "I hear you, my lord. I'll keep it clean this time."
"Good."
The 9th Demon Lord straightened and asked, "Do you have an idea where I should start looking?"
The 2nd smirked. "Well, Tadesse was killed near Legostream… so I'd say that's a good place to start, don't you think?"
The 9th Demon Lord grinned wider as he turned and exited the dark halls of the castle.
Legostream was about to have an uninvited guest.