Glutton on the Loose

“Miragard’s northern gate—”

A blast of wind tore through the cobblestone street. The cries of terrified citizens mingled with the screeches of collapsing metal as the Harbinger of Vice of Gluttony, Lye Batenkaitos, arrived in town like a natural disaster wrapped in a man’s skin.

Soldiers screamed. Limbs flew. The strongest among them didn’t last more than a breath.

"Oh no… this is bad. Like real bad," Eren muttered from his hiding spot behind a supply cart, clenching his teeth. Felt stood beside him, cloak fluttering in the chaos.

"Don’t get shaky now! We need to move!" Felt barked, eyes blazing, rallying the soldiers like a born commander. She pointed her staff forward, and guards scrambled into formation behind her. But it was clear—terror festered in every trembling footstep.

“Oh misterrr~ that’s no way to welcome a guest,” Lye crooned with a manic grin, lips stretched far too wide. “How about I eat your name to make up for it?”

He vanished in a blur.

But Eren was already in motion. A whistle left his lips. The canals roared.

From the water burst forth three serpentine water dragons, summoned by Eren’s rare gift—the ability to speak with animals.

The dragons lunged toward Lye like furies unleashed. Their massive, scaly bodies slammed him through the city wall with a bone-rattling crack.

"...I'm not gonna ask how you did that, but—thanks," one of the guards panted.

Eren was about to respond—but then the dragons collapsed, lifeless.

"Crunch."

Blood dripped from Lye’s lips as he stood amidst rubble, licking crimson from his fingers. “Tasted like overcooked lizard. Eugh. Not satisfying at all. But your names? Oh, those, I’ll savor slowly.”

He lunged again.

A guard screamed as Lye pressed a hand to his face, whispering his name.

And then—emptiness.

The guard collapsed. No one recognized him. Not even the ones who fought beside him.

“Who—who was that?” one guard gasped.

Eren's eyes widened. “He’s... erasing their existence. If he knows your name, you’re as good as deleted.”

He turned to warn the others, but it was too late.

One by one, guards fell—nameless, forgotten, unmade.

Lye cackled. “I wonder... what you taste like, Eren Suwen—”

A cold steel hand caught Lye’s wrist.

“—I think that’s enough.”

The world froze.

Lye’s eyes traced the arm to its owner—a tall figure cloaked in black, the hood pulled low, hiding most of his face. Only sharp black bangs slipped through the middle-parted curtain of the hood.

"...I see. You're not one of ours," Lye muttered, eyeing the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. “Tell me... which Thorned Choir do you belong to?”

The man didn’t answer. He raised his gloved hand and slammed Lye’s head into the cobblestones.

A spiderweb of cracks spread beneath him.

“Boom,” he muttered.

Eren blinked. "...Wow. Thanks, uh, Mister?"

“Take me to Muse HQ,” the man said flatly.

“...Okay?” Eren mumbled, half-dazed.

Felt landed dramatically nearby, staff glowing and wrapped in silk. She had leapt from the rooftops, ready to bonk Lye into next week—but stopped mid-air when she saw Lye unconscious in the rubble.

Her wide eyes locked onto the man in black.

“Who the hell are you—?”

“I dismiss the question,” he replied, raising one hand. “Muse HQ. Now.”

They all arrived—Anastasia, Felt, Eren, Lilibeth, Taro, Fariel, Calien, Rhaegar, Vaelen, Crusch, Neris. Everyone prepared, everyone tense. They didn’t notice the man seated at the far corner of the long table at first.

But eventually, they did.

Weapons were drawn in a heartbeat. Taro even slipped, falling backwards.

But Fariel?

He just smirked.

He walked across the room calmly—hands in his pockets.

Then, with perfect synchronization—

CLAP.

They dapped. The dopest dap.

“…It’s been a long time,” Fariel muttered.

“You’ve gotten even dumber,” Hafiz grinned.

The two burst into laughter, slinging childish insults about each other’s dads like they’d never left each other’s side. Everyone else looked utterly baffled.

"...What the hell did I just witness?" Taro muttered, mouth full of air and regret. "I seriously thought he was a Thorned Choirist—or some secret boss battle with final phase mechanics!"

Hafiz tossed his head back and laughed. "You're funny. I like you."

"But seriously—who are you?" Taro demanded again.

"This," Fariel said, proudly now, "is my best friend—Hafiz. Strongest person in my entire friend group. Stronger than me."

Hafiz lowered his hood. Black middle-parted hair, sharp eyes, and that trademark steel glove.

“I’m Hafiz.”

"...Wait, you're the Hafiz? The guy who saved us from that gut-happy freakshow?!” Taro shouted. “You look so—upgraded!”

Hafiz grinned. “Yeah, I had a few... enhancements. Let’s just call it a secret.”

Across the room, Anastasia narrowed her eyes. Something about him—his aura, his existence—it didn’t belong. He was holding something he shouldn’t. Maybe a certain book...

“We could really use your help,” Fariel said. “Four Harbinger of Vices are in Miragard. We need you.”

“I’m not staying,” Hafiz said, turning away. “I came to deliver a warning.”

Everyone tensed again.

“There are four here. The worst are Gluttony—and Lust. And if you don’t act fast… you’ll all be erased before you even realize you were alive.”

Crusch stepped forward. “Wait! If you’re that strong—you must help us!”

“No,” Fariel said, stopping her. “He’s right.”

“What?!”

“If he’s leaving, it means he’s being hunted. And if Hafiz is afraid of something… we should be too.”

Hafiz smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He gave a deep, respectful bow.

Then he turned.

And vanished into the hall, his footsteps echoing like fading memories.

Rhaegar stepped forward, glancing at Fariel.

“Are you sure?”

Fariel’s voice was low.

“Yes. Hafiz is carrying something too heavy for us to even imagine. If he stays, the storm follows. If he leaves... maybe we live long enough to fight another day.”