"Are we going to work with them?" Kurono asked quietly, his voice low as they walked the cobbled path toward the Village Chief's house. The setting sun bathed the village in a warm, golden glow, and the humble homes—crafted from hand-shaped bricks and moss-covered tiles—exuded a rustic, almost magical charm. Smoke curled gently from chimneys, and the smell of baked bread drifted through the air, mixing with the earthy scent of damp soil and herbs.
Everywhere they looked, non-human beings moved with casual familiarity—werecats with twitching ears and graceful steps, goblins lugging sacks of vegetables, orcs laughing deeply over shared tankards, lizardfolk sharpening tools, and even lamia sunning themselves lazily on the stones. Harpies fluttered above with baskets in their talons, and dwarves busied themselves near a forge that hissed with steam. Elves, tall and elegant, gave serene nods as they passed.
Yet what stood out most was how each and every one of them bowed slightly or offered a warm greeting to Lily.
"Miss Lily."
"Good evening, Miss Lily!"
"Blessings of the Forest on you, Lily."
Despite her youthful face and sing-song voice, Lily walked with a quiet dignity, as if she carried invisible authority. The villagers didn't just respect her—they cherished her. Even the gruffest orc softened at her presence, and the most aloof elf gave her their full attention.
Kurono watched this in awe, his heart warming despite everything. The world was still full of places like this, places that didn't hate him for what had been done to him.
"She really is someone, isn't she?" he murmured, half to himself.
"Most likely, we'll work together," Shirou said, eyes sharp beneath the casual tone. Though his steps were relaxed, his every movement was deliberate—watching corners, rooftops, hands. "We have similar goals. And I can't allow innocent lives to be thrown into danger. They're not trained for war, Kurono. If they step onto a battlefield, they'll die."
Kurono nodded, recalling the group led by Rias. They were powerful, certainly, their auras unmistakable even to an amateur. But they moved like first-years in a sparring circle—sloppy, unguarded, reactive. They had power, but little discipline.
"The redhead's reckless," Shirou added. "Emotional. It's written all over her. Her heart's in the right place, but that won't matter if she gets her team killed."
Kurono gave him a sidelong glance. "But you'll help them?"
"I won't coddle them," Shirou said firmly. "But I'll make sure they don't walk straight into a grave. That's all."
Kurono grinned. "You're a great guy, Shirou. Seriously… thank you."
The words were simple, but they held weight. Kurono hadn't expected to survive. Not after what had been done to him—pumped full of magical blood, his body warped, his mind flooded with alien knowledge. He'd fought monsters in metal cages, clawed through golems with half-healed wounds, been fed slop that made his stomach twist and his soul scream. And through it all, he had lost time—years of his life shaved away in exchange for borrowed strength.
Most subjects had gone mad, their minds lost in magic-induced fever. If not for the control rings, they might have turned on each other long ago.
He touched the spot beneath his collar, where the ring had once been. Gone now. But the memory remained.
Now, surrounded by peaceful villagers, the warmth of lamps glowing in windows and the quiet hum of conversation in the streets… he felt something foreign press at his chest.
Hope.
"They speak our language," he said softly. "They know what the world was like before… before this."
Shirou didn't answer right away. He only offered a small smile, the kind that didn't reach the eyes but meant more for being real.
"You're welcome," he said, and Kurono could tell he meant it.
It wasn't much—but in this strange and beautiful world, it was enough.
------------------------
The Village Chief's office stood at the heart of Irz Village, tucked between a sprawling tree whose bark shimmered faintly with magic and a fountain carved from crystal-clear stone. It wasn't a grand structure—only a modest building with ivy creeping up its wooden walls and flower pots lining its windows—but there was something about it that made Kurono feel like he was entering a sacred place.
The trio arrived soon enough, and at Lily's polite knock, a soft voice from within invited them in.
Inside, the room smelled of parchment and polished wood, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and shelves crammed full of scrolls and relics from times long past. Behind a wide desk sat an elderly elf woman, her long white hair braided over one shoulder and her silver eyes sharp despite the warmth in her smile. She was old—centuries old, Shirou reckoned—and she carried her age not as a burden, but as a crown. The room seemed to still around her, like time itself was waiting for her permission to pass.
"Welcome to Irz Village," she said, her voice calm and melodic. "Please, take a seat."
Shirou inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you for having us. My name is Shirou, and this is my companion, Kurono. We come from a distant land and were hoping for a place to rest, at least for a while."
He sat as he spoke, keeping his tone formal, his posture composed. A calculated choice, he knew—it was better to get to the point swiftly, especially as outsiders. Drawing out pleasantries might only fray patience. Still, there was a subtle shift in the air as he spoke, a flicker of coolness in the elf's gaze.
She regarded him for a moment too long, as if trying to read something hidden beneath his polished words.
Kurono, sensing the change, stepped in. "Please allow us to stay in your village. We'll pull our weight, I promise—we won't be a burden." His tone, though also polite, carried a raw sincerity that Shirou's lacked. He wasn't trained to be formal—he was just trying to be kind.
The Chief's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You speak well, young man," she said to Kurono, her voice fond now. "And from the heart."
Shirou caught the contrast immediately and gave a mental sigh. Too formal. Too careful. He was speaking to a village matriarch, not a high council in a capital city. The warmth of this place didn't suit stiff manners. Still, he kept his composure and allowed Kurono's charm to do the heavy lifting.
"I see…" the Chief mused, folding her hands neatly on the desk. "You've come a long way, and it must be hard—being without a home, especially at your age. But you are welcome here. Irz Village accepts humans, and more importantly, I trust you because of Miss Lily."
Kurono gave a grateful smile, and even Shirou let his guard down a fraction.
"Thank you," Shirou said, this time with more ease, his shoulders relaxing. "And if there's anything we can do for you, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."
"No, no," the elf chuckled, waving a delicate hand. "Any friend of Lily's is a friend of the village. That girl… she has a gift for sensing goodness in others."
Shirou nodded, but inside, his mind was racing.
Too easy. Far too easy.
The Chief's trust, the villagers' deference—Lily wasn't just a kind-hearted fairy girl with a knack for making friends. She was someone important. Revered. Possibly even a guardian spirit of the land. Her magic was old, ancient even—he could feel it humming faintly when she walked. The way creatures of all races bowed to her… it wasn't affection alone. It was reverence.
She's more than she seems, Shirou thought. Best not to end up on her bad side.
"Are there any jobs we could take on?" he asked carefully, sensing it was time to change the topic.
"You'll find work posted at the Adventurers' Guild, just down the main path," the Chief said kindly. "There's always something that needs doing—beasts in the woods, lost items, fields needing harvest."
"Thank you for your time. We'll take our leave now," Shirou said, standing smoothly. Kurono echoed the sentiment, bowing lightly as they exited.
Behind them, the old elf remained seated, her gaze lingering on their backs long after the door had closed.
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Calculating, that one," she murmured. "But not unkind. And the other… he's wounded, yet gentle."
Her fingers brushed across the surface of her desk, where motes of light had settled like dust.
"May the Earth watch over you both."
-----------------
Just like Rias and her companions, the two young men left an impression on Chief Liz—one she couldn't easily dismiss. There was a weight to them, an air of purpose masked beneath casual words. And while Kurono's smile was disarming in its sincerity, and Shirou's posture spoke of polish and restraint, Liz's instincts—the instincts of a seasoned ranger—were murmuring beneath the calm surface of her thoughts.
She leaned back in her chair once they were gone, eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at the now-closed door.
They are hiding something.
But then again, most people were.
She had lived long enough to know that no one who walked this far into the frontier did so without a reason. Wanderers didn't just stumble into Irz Village, especially ones with eyes that held storms, or words carefully measured like stepping stones over deep waters.
Liz was old—ancient, even by elven standards. Her once-golden hair had turned silver long ago, and her back bore the scars of dragonfire and war arrows. In her youth, she had been an archer in the armies of the Black Dragon King, Garwinare, whose shadow still loomed over her like a memory burned into the sky.
Garwinare, a monarch of old draconic blood, reveled in combat and conquest, leaving the weight of governance to those he deemed capable. He was not cruel, not exactly—but he had no place in his court for the weak or the unworthy. Power was his currency, and if you lacked it, you were nothing but dust beneath his wings.
Liz had served him faithfully, rising not because of natural talent—she never had much of that—but through sheer will and experience. She had fought in the border wars, hunted rogue spellcasters, and even stood against Sparda, the demon nation that took her husband's life in one of the bloodiest skirmishes in the kingdom's memory.
Now, she lived quietly, ruling this village nestled deep in the folds of the forest, far from the chaos of the outside world. Her three enchanted rings, remnants of her past, were worn more for sentiment than for battle. But they still pulsed with latent magic when danger approached—and right now, one of them was tingling faintly.
They're stronger than me…
She didn't doubt it. Even without a test of strength, her eyes had never failed her. A ranger's vision wasn't limited to arrows and trails. She saw things—subtle things. The way Shirou moved, how his muscles never relaxed fully. The way his gaze flicked across the room like a tactician scanning a battlefield. Kurono was more open, but no less dangerous—like a mage who hadn't yet discovered the depth of his well.
Lily trusts them… Liz reminded herself again. That should have been enough.
But it wasn't.
Because Lily, despite her radiance and charm, had always been too kind. Too trusting. Too quick to look for light in places where only shadows lived. Liz adored her—everyone did—but even fairies, blessed though they were, weren't infallible.
Why are they here?
Why had they come to a remote village with no real standing, no strategic value, no path to glory? Liz had lived through too many lies and too many invasions to ignore the chill at the back of her neck.
She tapped the desk gently with a finger, each knock like a ticking clock in her thoughts.
If they were merely adventurers, why cloak themselves in formality? Why hide their true strength?
She knew the answer already.
They were watching. Planning.
Whether they meant harm or simply had secrets to guard, Liz couldn't tell. But one thing she knew for certain:
Shirou was the key.
The way he guided the conversation. The way Kurono looked to him, not as an equal, but as someone who believed in him. Shirou had the weight of command in his voice.
"I'll need to speak with him," Liz muttered to herself.
Not to accuse.
Not to threaten.
But to understand.
Because peace was precious here—and if the storm was coming, she needed to know whether these boys were the cause... or the shield.