Bugs

"Ahhh!!!"

Paliv's scream echoed through the ruined stronghold as she bolted across the debris-strewn battlefield. Behind her, an enormous, nightmarish creature gave chase—a grotesque hybrid of moth, spider, and scorpion. Its towering frame, easily over 300 meters tall, loomed over her like a living disaster. Its wings, twice its height, cast a suffocating shadow over the land, while its many legs skittered unnervingly, kicking up dust and rubble with each monstrous step.

"Why the hell did I agree to this?!" Paliv cursed as she dodged a swipe of its serrated limbs. Her emerald-green eyes darted toward the smug bastard responsible for her current predicament.

Shotaro Mugiwara.

The red-eyed, silver-haired hero sat comfortably on a nearby rock, lounging as if he were watching a play instead of a life-or-death struggle. His long coat draped over his broad shoulders, and he rested his chin in his hand, his expression thoughtful rather than concerned.

"Huh. She's got impressive stamina," Shotaro mused, watching Paliv dart from side to side, barely avoiding the rakhshas's lethal attacks. "Running at full speed for an hour straight? Not bad for someone her size."

The way he said it, so casual, so unconcerned, made Paliv's blood boil.

"You fucker!!" she shouted, skidding to a stop and firing a volley of energy blasts at the insectoid monster. The projectiles slammed into the creature's armored exoskeleton—only to fizzle out like pathetic sparks against steel. "Oh, come on!" she groaned. "What kind of bullshit training is this?!"

Shotaro leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "Teaching you to fight, little sister."

"Teaching?! You call throwing me through a goddamn stronghold, TEACHING?!"

He smirked. "Hey, I did tell ya I will make you train through hell."

"I didn't think you meant it literally, you lunatic!" Paliv shrieked as she barely ducked under the creature's stinger, which embedded itself into the ground like a siege weapon. She rolled away, panting. "This is insane. What kind of fucked up student-teacher relationships did you have back in Gaia?"

At that, Shotaro's smirk faded for a split second. The mention of that name stirred something in him. His gaze drifted to the sky, lost in thought.

Hiroki, and Kazaya.

One that he taught & the one who taught him.

"I wish things were different, sensei," Shotaro murmured, so quietly that even he barely heard it. His jaw clenched, and before he realized it, he had bitten his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. It was an old habit—one that surfaced whenever emotions he didn't want to deal with crept in. The metallic taste grounded him, snapping him back to the present.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head before refocusing on Paliv. She was still running, her golden hair whipping behind her as she zigzagged between the monster's legs. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she was adapting. She hadn't given up. And that, at least, was worth something.

Shotaro smirked again, his previous solemnity replaced with amusement.

"Should I stop that?" he mused aloud, tapping his fingers against his arm in thought.

He paused, watching as Paliv launched another barrage of attacks. Still useless. Still struggling. Still learning.

"Nah," he decided, grinning to himself. "I think she can go a little longer."
Then Paliv just fell to the ground; the rakhsas finally got to her; as he could only see the massive stinger being launched towards her, she tried to run, to crawl away.

But then she stumbled.

Shotaro's expression shifted as the rakhshas seized its moment, its massive stinger arcing downward like a death sentence.

"Damn it. I'm almost a sadist," he muttered, clicking his tongue. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his perch.

Paliv barely had time to register what was happening before Shotaro appeared in front of her, his arm raised. The monstrous stinger met his palm—and stopped dead, unable to pierce even an inch further.

She stared up at him, breathless.

"You got caught off guard, Little Sister," Shotaro said, glancing back at her with a teasing smirk.

Paliv's eyes widened in awe and shock. He was holding back the stinger with one hand. One hand.

"How did you do that?!?" she gasped.

Shotaro sighed, as if the answer was obvious. "I always had super strength. You know that."

"No," she shook her head. "I'm talking about how you even... just appeared in front of me."

"Oh, that? That's just spatial step—"

Before he could finish, the rakhshas's spider-like mouth snapped open—and in one swift motion, Shotaro was swallowed whole.

Paliv's heart stopped.

"BIG BROTHAAAAAA!!" she screamed.

Inside the rakhshas's exoskeleton, Shotaro found himself held in place by a writhing mass of gelatinous larvae. Their translucent bodies pulsed as they clung to him, secreting a thick, adhesive mucus that tightened like a vice around his limbs.

"Tch. Didn't know it had eggs inside," Shotaro muttered, his voice laced with irritation. The larvae writhed around him, their gooey bodies pressing against his skin. Then, a searing pain spread across his arms.

"Shit!" he hissed as he realized what was happening. The outer layers of the larvae hardened into a resin-like shell, trapping him further while their acidic bodies began to digest his skin. He could feel them tightening, constricting—keeping him from reaching his katana.

Still, he didn't panic.

Shotaro had a secret weapon.

As the larvae finally covered his face, sealing him in a cocoon of burning, chitinous mass, the temperature inside the beast began to rise. A sizzling sound filled the cavity as the hardened larvae began to char and blacken. Then, without warning, two beams of crimson-hot energy erupted from within the darkness, cutting through the writhing flesh like a blade through butter.

Shotaro's eyes burned red-hot, his heat vision vaporizing the larvae in an instant. The molten remnants of their bodies dripped off his face as he exhaled sharply, his breath steaming in the superheated air.

"That was disgusting," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as the last of the larvae burned away. He reached for his katana, now free from its restraints, and grasped the hilt.

"Time to gut this bastard from the inside out."

With one swift slash, a blinding arc of energy tore through the insect's insides.

Outside, Paliv witnessed the rakhshas shriek, its body convulsing violently as if its insides were being cooked alive. It lost all focus on her, thrashing wildly. Its wings, once an ominous presence, flapped erratically as it careened through the stronghold, crashing into waxy walls, smashing through its own egg sacs, until finally, with one last desperate shriek, it plummeted to the ground.

A Grotesque silence followed.

Then, the rakhshas expanded—and exploded.

A wave of liquid bug meat splattered across the battlefield, coating everything, including Paliv, in a thick, steaming mess. She stood there, dripping, staring up at the sky in disbelief.

Above her, Shotaro hovered, his silver hair slicked with the creature's remains. His single visible red eye glowed ominously, a beacon of destruction in the dark.

He looked down at her, calm and untouchable.

Like a demon of ruin.

Like a god of judgment.

"EWWW!!" Shotaro gagged, his disgusted yell echoing across the battlefield. In an instant, the menacing aura surrounding him vanished, replaced by the sheer horror of his current predicament. He wiped his face furiously, only succeeding in smearing the thick, sticky remains of the exploded rakhshas even further. "THIS SHIT STINKS! UGH!!"

Paliv, equally drenched in steaming insect guts, stood frozen in place. Her golden hair, once flowing and immaculate, now clung to her face and shoulders in clumps of foul-smelling sludge. Her emerald eyes twitched as she processed the scene.

"What… the actual fuck?" she said slowly, disbelief heavy in her voice. Then, with venom, "Are you fucking serious?! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO MY HAIR!"

Shotaro landed beside her, flicking off a chunk of bug flesh from his shoulder. "You fucking brat," he grumbled, shaking out his silver hair. "At least act a little happy to see me? I mean, I am your older brother now, after all!"

"Adopted." Paliv deadpanned.

Shotaro paused, lips pursing. "That really doesn't—Okay, you got me there." He sighed, rubbing his face, then immediately regretted it as his palm smeared another layer of sticky bug goo onto his cheek.

Paliv watched him struggle, her expression caught between amusement and irritation. Then, she crossed her arms. "Still," she muttered, "I'll admit… I was kind of worried when that thing swallowed you."

Shotaro raised a brow, his smirk returning. "Oh? The brat actually cares about me?"

Paliv's face scrunched up in an instant. "I—uhh… Shut up!" she sputtered, turning away. "We've been stuck together for a while, you know! It's just normal to care a little!"

"Damn," Shotaro said, stretching his arms behind his head. "You admitted it just like that? I thought you were supposed to be the tsundere lil' sis trope."

Paliv blinked. "The fuck is a tsundere?"

Shotaro waved a hand. "Don't bother with it."

Paliv's eye twitched. "AHHHHH, FUCK YOU!!" she roared, punching him straight in the gut.

Shotaro barely flinched. Instead, he laughed, letting her vent her frustration.

Around them, the battlefield was still soaked in the remains of the fight, the scent of burnt flesh and acrid bug fluids lingering in the air. But at that moment, amidst all the chaos and destruction, the two of them stood there—a brother and sister, bickering as if nothing had happened.

Later, outside the ruined stronghold, the two of them sat around a campfire. The night air was crisp, the sky painted in streaks of deep purple and silver. Shotaro sat comfortably on a rock, a towel draped over his waist after having just cleaned himself in a nearby lake. His silver hair, still damp, caught the firelight as he casually ran a hand through it. Across from him, Paliv sat hunched over, aggressively trying to untangle her hair, which had dried into an absolute disaster thanks to the bug meat sludge.

"Uhh... fuck, fuck, damnit," she grumbled, yanking at a particularly stubborn knot.

Shotaro glanced up from where he was absentmindedly poking the fire. His expression went deadpan. He had seen this exact situation play out before. And he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Without a word, he stood up, walked over, and with a single, swift motion—

SCHLING!

A sharp cry of outrage erupted into the night, so loud and piercing that flocks of birds took off from the distant treetops in panic.

"YOU ACTUAL FUCK!!" Paliv shrieked, staring in horror at the golden locks that now lay in her lap. Her fingers trembled as she touched the uneven, choppy cut left behind. "YOU ACTUAL MOTHERFUCKER!!" she howled, on the verge of tears, fists clenching around the remains of her once-pristine hair.

Shotaro stood there, casually twirling the blade he had just used as if he had done nothing remotely unusual. "What??" he said, utterly unfazed. "I just fixed your hair problem."

Paliv trembled, her rage boiling over. Her eye twitched. Then, slowly, without breaking eye contact, she lifted her hand—

The temperature dropped drastically.

Above Shotaro, a mountain-sized mass of ice materialized in the sky, its weight causing the air itself to hum with tension. The sheer pressure sent cracks spiderwebbing across the ground beneath them.

Shotaro looked up, unimpressed. He'd seen bigger.

With a sigh, he clenched his fist and threw a single, effortless punch upward.

BOOM!

Instead of shattering into ice shards, the massive glacier instantly vaporized into clouds, drifting away harmlessly into the night sky. A gust of wind rushed through the clearing from the sheer force of the impact.

Shotaro dusted off his hands. "What the fuck are you on about?" he said, looking back at Paliv, who was now frozen in sheer disbelief.

Then her lips curled into a snarl. "You retard," she spat. "You actual retard."

Shotaro shrugged. "What? You said your hair was ruined."

Paliv's whole face twisted as tears of rage welled in her eyes. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH EFFORT I PUT INTO KEEPING THOSE HAIRS YOU JUST CRUELLY CHOPPED OFF IN SHAPE??" she screeched, her voice cracking as she pointed at him accusingly.

Shotaro, arms crossed, tilted his head slightly, pretending to think. "Nope."

Paliv let out a strangled scream and lunged at him, fists flying.

Shotaro grinned, dodging effortlessly, letting her wear herself out. This was normal. This was them.

And despite the chaos, the battle, the bug guts, and now the impromptu haircut disaster, they were still together, bickering under the stars like always.

Under the vast expanse of the starry sky, they lay upon the soft grass, the cool night air brushing against their skin. A tranquil silence stretched between them, only occasionally interrupted by the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures lurking in the unseen shadows.

Paliv turned her gaze toward the man beside her, her violet eyes reflecting the starlight. "When we reach the Dark Valley," she began, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity, "how will you communicate with them? I mean, aren't their dialects supposed to be completely foreign?"

Shotaro let out a low chuckle, his expression relaxed. "Me?" He turned his head slightly to meet her eyes. "I was born with a universal translator inside me. Every word I hear just sounds like English to me. That's why, despite being Japanese, I hardly even hear my own language anymore."

Paliv blinked. "Let me guess." She propped herself up on her elbow, her tone turning playful. "Whatever you say just sounds like the other person's mother tongue, doesn't it?"

Shotaro nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much."

For a moment, Paliv just stared at him. Then, suddenly, she broke into a wide grin, her face lighting up with unrestrained excitement. "You're kidding! Big brother, you can fly, shoot lasers out of your eyes, teleport instantly, wield a cool katana, heal from wounds that should kill you, and even throw energy blasts like some kind of battle god… And now you're telling me you also have a built-in translator?!"

She threw her hands up in exaggerated exasperation. "You're so freaking cool! This isn't even fair!"

Shotaro shook his head, a wry smile crossing his lips. "Don't put me on such a high horse."

Paliv frowned. "Why not? You have all these powers—don't you feel like you could rule over everything?"

"Rule…?" A strange expression crossed Shotaro's face, one that Paliv couldn't quite place. Then, to her surprise, he burst into laughter. It wasn't the lighthearted chuckle from earlier but something deeper, something laced with irony.

"Rule?" he repeated between laughs, as though the very idea was absurd. "Me?"

Paliv tilted her head, visibly confused. "Why not? You could easily wipe out the entire Elvish army if you wanted to. Hell, you already defeated Garm! That alone is way beyond what anyone thought was possible. With power like yours, there's nothing stopping you from—"

"Paliv." Shotaro interrupted her softly, his voice now devoid of amusement. His gaze turned toward the sky, his eyes shadowed with an unreadable emotion. "Just because you have an axe, that doesn't mean you should swing it."

Paliv hesitated, sensing the weight in his words. "But... isn't that what makes someone strong? The ability to control? To lead?"

Shotaro exhaled slowly, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "You think I haven't thought of that?" His voice carried a quiet intensity, a heaviness that spoke of countless unspoken considerations, of burdens unseen.

After a moment, he let out a breath, closing his eyes briefly before speaking again. "I was three," Shotaro told her, his voice quiet but firm. "Three years old, but aware enough to understand who I was."

Paliv listened, the flickering light of the stars reflecting in her curious eyes.

"Even back then," he continued, "I had already decided that when I grew up, I would discard morality. I wanted to do whatever I pleased, to crush anyone who stood in my way. I wanted to take every chocolate in the world for myself." He let out a chuckle, but there was no humor in it—just the tired voice of a man who had lived through too much. "I wanted to rule the world, because I thought to myself, 'Oh, I was born a cosmic event… I was born as a messiah? Who decided that?' I told myself, 'I can just use my power to stand at the top of the world.' I was young, and yet... so selfish."

Paliv remained silent, watching him carefully, the weight of his words pressing down like an unseen force. "What happened then?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shotaro's gaze turned distant, as if he was looking not at the sky but through it, into the depths of his own past. "To learn how to rule…" he said slowly, as if each word carried the weight of a memory long buried. "I couldn't wait to grow up. I was impatient… so I decided to start early."

He took in a slow breath. "I gathered bugs. Hundreds of them. Of all sizes, all types. Moths, spiders, roaches… every kind I could find. And then, I built them a world. A tiny, self-contained kingdom of my own design. An ecosystem within a box."

Paliv listened intently, her expression unreadable.

"I wanted to quench my thirst," he admitted, his tone heavy with something indescribable. "So I decided to rule them instead."

Shotaro let out a dry chuckle. "They were all different, just like people. Some were fragile, some were predators. Some thrived in the light, others hid in the shadows. I placed them all together, confined in a single, small space—small, just like my world back then."

He paused, his gaze flickering toward the sky again. "The thing about bugs is…" he murmured, almost to himself. "They all die quickly. Just like people."

His eyes, dark with something ancient, turned back to Paliv. "So, they were the perfect subjects for the little three-year-old 'king.'" He put emphasis on the last word, his voice carrying a quiet, bitter amusement.

"But soon…" his voice softened, his eyes lost in the memories. "I realized something. I felt sad whenever one of them died. When a moth was eaten, when a spider perished, when a roach withered away… it hurt. At first, I thought it was frustration. That I was losing my subjects. But then, I understood—I felt nothing from controlling them. Ruling gave me no joy."

He let out a slow breath, his expression calm yet resolute. "But the things I did to help them survive? That… that gave me something. In those moments, I found what I had been searching for behind all that bug kingdom nonsense."

His body relaxed as he gazed at the sky, as if laying bare this truth had lightened a burden he had carried for years. "I realized that ruling them—bugs, people—it wouldn't give me meaning. But saving them… helping them… protecting them… that did."

His eyes burned with an unusual determination. "And then it hit me. I am selfless… yet selfish. I always gaslight myself into thinking that I save people because they are weak, because they are little, because they are fragile, and they die so quickly. But that wasn't the truth."

He exhaled sharply, his voice firm. "I save them because all those flaws—their mortality, their limitations, their fragility—make them worth protecting."

His fingers curled slightly in the grass. "Their fragility gives me meaning. Because the beauty of those flaws is that they constantly push them forward. Despite their weaknesses, they continue to move ahead. And seeing them move forward…"

Shotaro's lips curled slightly, his eyes gleaming with a rare sense of purpose. "That makes me want to go even further—so that I can stand as their barrier."

He reached out, placing a hand gently on Paliv's head. His touch was warm, steady. "I didn't save them because I saw myself above them, like a god protecting his creation; I saved them because I saw myself among them, like a guard protecting the village."

"Every time someone called for me… I came. I was 'the man they call.' That was what they used to call me there," he murmured. "Soon, I realized that even if I had been born without these powers, I would have still saved people. Because I can."

His voice deepened slightly, taking on a quiet conviction. "Good or bad… People say those things don't truly exist in the world. And maybe they're right, to some extent. Even I understand that. But I keep trying… trying to do what I think is right, because if right and wrong do exist… then I want to be on the side of right."

His fingers curled slightly, his expression firm. "Because… on a good day—my best one, in fact—if I try really… really hard, put my entire life into it… then maybe… maybe I'm not just some selfish imbecile forced to save people by fate."

He looked straight ahead, as if speaking not just to Paliv but to the world itself.

"I am Shotaro Mugiwara. I am the hero."

As they stood beneath the vast, star-studded expanse of the night sky, the flickering campfire cast elongated shadows that danced around them. Shotaro's crimson eyes, gleaming with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness, met hers—emerald orbs reflecting the firelight with a depth that made his heart waver for just a moment. His silver hair, kissed by the glow of the fire and illuminated beneath the radiance of the dozens of moons hanging above, shimmered like liquid stardust.

Paliv stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wished to speak, but no words came forth. Instead, her lower lip quivered, caught in the delicate balance between a fragile smile and something more unsteady, something vulnerable.

"That's…" Her soft voice, almost hesitant, trailed off.

She had always seen Shotaro as someone untouchable. An existence that stood above all, as if he were a force of nature, always victorious, always unshaken. He was the kind of person who, no matter the odds, no matter the enemy, never seemed to falter. He carried himself like an unbreakable warrior, an invincible legend etched into reality itself.

Yet, when she had heard him cry—when his voice, usually so composed and unyielding, cracked under the weight of his anguish and burdens just days ago—her perception shattered.

Shotaro Mugyiwara was not some flawless, divine being who reigned supreme over all things. He was not an entity that stood perpetually above the rest, untouched by hardship or defeat.

No, he was something far more profound than that.

He was a man who had been knocked down countless times, crushed under the weight of his own struggles, battered by fate itself. A man who, despite everything, still found the strength to rise again. Someone who, in moments of despair, cursed his fate, lamented the cruel burdens thrust upon him—yet, in the very next moment, chose to bear them with unwavering resolve. Not because he had to. Not because there was no other way.

But because that was who he was.

A man who bore the weight of the world, not out of obligation, but out of sheer, unrelenting altruism.

And as Paliv looked into his crimson eyes, illuminated beneath the celestial glow of a sky that knew no dawn, she felt her heart tighten with an emotion she could not yet name.

Paliv's voice wavered, her breath hitching as memories long buried surfaced with the weight of the night pressing down upon her. The campfire crackled softly in the silence between them, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across her face.

"When my father died..." she began, her tone quiet, almost hesitant, as if saying it aloud made the loss real all over again. "I was... not in a good shape." Her gaze dropped momentarily, her emerald eyes dimming with sorrow. "I tried to learn magic to divert my mind, to focus on something—anything—so that I wouldn't have to think about it, wouldn't have to feel it." She let out a bitter chuckle, though there was no mirth in it. "But nothing happened. No spells. No breakthroughs. Nothing that could take away the emptiness that had settled inside me like a cold void."

Her fingers curled slightly, as if clenching an invisible thread of emotion too fragile to grasp.

"I had many... many friends," she continued, her voice quieter now, laced with something heavier. "The sons and daughters of the courtiers who worked under my mother. People who laughed, who played, who spoke sweet words of comfort but never truly understood. They were just... there..so I stopped meeting them all together."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "But my mother... she was—" Paliv hesitated, then swallowed, as if forcing herself to continue. " She was drunk at that point. All the time. I couldn't—no, I never could—express myself fully to her. Because all I ever got from her were hollow hugs. The kind that felt empty, weightless, insincere. And the words she whispered? Just the same meaningless reassurances over and over again. Sometimes, when she kissed my forehead, all I could smell was the alcohol on her breath."

Her fingers twitched as she raised a hand and placed it against Shotaro's chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm, grounding her in the present and reminding her that she was no longer alone.

"And then you came," she murmured, her lips curving slightly—not quite a smile, but something close, something nostalgic. "Or, well... more like I found you." Her eyes lifted, meeting his, and in them, there was a quiet warmth. "In my garden. Where you had already eaten all the mangoes."

She let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was a softness in her expression now—something vulnerable yet unguarded, as if in this moment, she was finally letting him see the parts of her that she had kept hidden for so long.

Paliv's fingers curled slightly against Shotaro's chest, as if grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her emerald eyes, gleaming in the firelight, softened with something between gratitude and exasperation.

"You fixed everything... mostly everything," she said, her voice laced with something unspoken, a quiet emotion that danced between admiration and frustration. "You did what nobody else dared to do. What nobody even thought was possible. While the others tiptoed around the problem, too afraid to act, too consumed by their own fears and self-preservation, you—"she looked up at him, shaking her head slightly, almost in disbelief, "—you just went ahead and punched my mother. Right in the correct spot."

She exhaled sharply, part sigh, part huff of amusement. "I don't even know how you managed that. But somehow, someway, you hit her so perfectly that it actually knocked her back to her senses. A single strike, and suddenly, she wasn't drowning in bottles anymore. She wasn't lost in that haze of grief and intoxication. It was as if you shook her awake in a way that nothing else could. And just like that, she started acting like a queen again."

Paliv let out a small laugh, though it held traces of genuine astonishment. "And that was just the beginning, wasn't it? As if flipping my mother's life back upright with one well-placed punch wasn't enough, you decided to fix the entire kingdom in your spare time. In just a single week, you turned everything around. The crime rate? Cut down drastically. The corrupt policies that had been strangling the people? Reformed. And how did you do it?"

She tilted her head, mockingly thoughtful for a moment before grinning. "Oh, right. You walked straight into the dens of criminals, looked them dead in the eye, and threatened to throw them into the atmosphere."

She paused, shaking her head. "And the worst part? They actually believed you. You didn't have to lift a single finger—just the sheer thought of you launching them into orbit like some kind of celestial punishment was enough to make them surrender on the spot. Some of them even turned themselves in before you could find them, just in case."

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You're an absolute menace, you know that?"

But despite her words, there was no mistaking the warmth in her voice. No mistaking the way she looked at him now—not with disbelief nor frustration, but with something far deeper. Something that had been building for a long, long time.

Paliv's voice softened, her emerald eyes shimmering with an emotion she had kept buried for far too long. The night air was still, the crackling of the campfire the only sound between them. She inhaled deeply, as if steadying herself, as if gathering the courage to let the words she had always held back finally escape.

"I have been asking for someone to share my pain," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of countless silent prayers. "Someone. Anyone. For as long as I can remember, I wanted—no, needed—someone to understand, someone who wouldn't just offer hollow words or empty reassurances but would truly stand beside me and take even a fraction of what I carried. But no matter how many people surrounded me, no matter how many so-called friends or courtiers offered their sympathies, it was never enough. Because none of them ever really saw me."

Her gaze flickered toward the fire, the orange glow reflected in her eyes. "And then, by Bhramha's grace... my mother brought you into the family."

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly, almost as if still in disbelief. "It feels strange, doesn't it? That a single person could change everything. That a single presence could turn my world upside down and yet make it feel more stable than it ever was before. But that's exactly what you did."

Paliv looked up at him again, her expression unreadable yet filled with something raw and unguarded. "My father was right," she continued, her voice quieter now, but no less certain. "Right to place his trust in you. Right to bet everything on you. And now, standing here, I understand why."

Her lips quivered slightly, caught between a smile and something far more vulnerable. "You're the best... big brother I could have ever asked for."

There was no hesitation in her words, no lingering doubt. Just honesty, just gratitude, just the kind of warmth that could only come from knowing, deep in her heart, that she had finally found what she had been searching for all along.

"Paliv," Shotaro said, his voice calm but firm as he turned to face her. "I wanted to ask you something… Why did you force Nyrebo to kill the Dark Elvan intruders?"

The moment the words left his mouth, something inside Paliv snapped.

Her face contorted into an expression of such exaggerated, visceral hatred that it looked like she had just been force-fed a spoonful of spoiled milk mixed with betrayal. It wasn't just ordinary hate—it was the kind of deep-seated, generational, irrational loathing that made no sense yet burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

A comical level of sheer disgust radiated from her, as if the mere mention of Dark Elves had personally ruined her entire bloodline's legacy. The flames of the campfire flickered ominously, as if responding to the overwhelming force of her prejudice.

"I HATE THEM," she spat, her emerald eyes practically glowing with righteous fury. "Those filthy, no-good, soot-skinned, scheming, lying, stealing, underhanded, treacherous—"

She inhaled sharply, her chest rising as if she were about to unleash an entire thesis on why Dark Elves were the absolute scum of existence.

"Dark-born, dusk-dwelling, smooth-tongued, poison-dripping, dagger-hiding, manipulative, double-crossing, backstabbing, empire-tainting, mongrel—"

"Okay, that's enough," Shotaro interrupted, his eye twitching.

But Paliv wasn't done. Oh no. She was just getting started.

"They slither into our lands, pretend to be one of us, and then—BAM! Next thing you know, someone's missing their coin purse, your local noble's been swindled into signing away his inheritance, and half the kingdom's economy is mysteriously in shambles! And don't even get me started on their 'trade deals!' They smile, they bow, they shake hands, but the second you blink—poof! You're in debt for three generations!"

Shotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize you just described, like, half the elven nobility too, right?"

Paliv gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest like she had just been mortally wounded. "Excuse me?! Are you saying we're just as bad as them?!"

Shotaro gave her the flattest, deadliest stare in existence. "Paliv, half of the crimes you listed literally happened in your own royal court. By elves. Last week."

Paliv cleared her throat. "That's... beside the point."

"No. That is exactly the point," Shotaro said, arms crossed.

She huffed, folding her arms, looking away with an expression that suggested she would rather fight an entire dragon than admit he had a valid argument. "Listen, all I'm saying is, if something goes wrong and a Dark Elf is nearby, odds are, they were involved!"

"That's… actually insane," Shotaro deadpanned.

"It's statistics!" Paliv shot back.

Shotaro exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Paliv, what the fuck"

Her face immediately stiffened. Her eyes darted left. Then right. Then back to Shotaro.

"…I refuse to answer that," she muttered.

Shotaro sighed the sigh of a man who had given up all hope for rational discourse. "You need therapy."

Paliv scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. "No, I need a world free of Sootskins."

"Okay, nope," Shotaro muttered, standing up, done with this conversation. "That's when I start dragging you to therapy by force."

Shotaro Mugyiwara had seen many things in his life. He had fought monsters that could flatten mountains, stared down tyrants with the power to bend nations to their will, and even survived the absolute lawlessness of Call of Duty multiplayer lobbies back on Earth—arguably his most harrowing battlefield.

To say he was desensitized would be an understatement. Back in his past life, he had witnessed (and, to his eternal shame, participated in) the absolute cesspit of online gaming culture, where slurs flew faster than bullets and insults were an art form honed to perfection. He had once watched an argument between a ten-year-old and a fully grown man escalate into a verbal war that could have permanently scarred the soul of a lesser person.

And yet.

Yet.

Nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for this.

As Paliv continued her utterly unhinged, frothing-at-the-mouth, near-legendary tirade against the Dark Elves, Shotaro felt something deep within him shift. Something fundamental. Something he never thought he would feel again.

He had lost.

He had lost the game.

This wasn't just racism. This was Racism: New Game+ Edition. This was a racism so raw, so pure, so astronomically irrational that it had outclassed everything he had ever encountered. It was like she had taken every single slur, stereotype, and conspiracy theory ever whispered in hushed, hateful tones and compressed them into an unholy ball of concentrated bigotry, then set it on fire and launched it directly into his face.

His mind struggled to process it. His soul struggled to process it.

How?

How did this medieval fantasy princess, who had never even seen an Xbox in her life, just casually outdo every toxic lobby he had ever been in? How did her sheer level of unwarranted, foam-at-the-mouth hatred reach heights that even the sweatiest, most rage-fueled Call of Duty player could only dream of?

His very existence as a former slur-spouting, trash-talking, toxicity-powered FPS player had been obliterated in the face of this eldritch-level racism.

He had been out-racist'ed.

By a medieval teenage girl.

Shotaro sat there, staring into the campfire, a distant, haunted look in his crimson eyes. His hands, which had once gripped controllers and keyboards with the ferocity of a man at war, now lay limp in his lap. He was done. Defeated.

This wasn't just losing.

This was respawning in shame.

Shotaro blinked.

Then he blinked again.

His mind struggled to reboot, desperately searching for the right words to respond to what he had just heard. But no matter how much he tried, all that came out was—

"What the fuck?"

Silence. The night wind whispered through the trees. The campfire crackled, throwing flickering shadows across Paliv's face.

But Shotaro wasn't done.

"What the actual fuck?"

Paliv simply crossed her arms, her expression somewhere between stubborn conviction and faint guilt, though the guilt was clearly losing the battle. Her emerald eyes flickered toward the fire, as if trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"This is why I had them killed," she finally admitted, her voice carrying a strange mix of justification and hesitation. "I couldn't handle those... Sootskins in my kingdom. Not after what they did to Mother."

For a brief moment, Shotaro just stared at her, expression unreadable.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down his face. "Paliv," he muttered, his tone somewhere between exhausted disbelief and the sheer spiritual resignation of a man who had just realized he was never going to win this argument.

Paliv, ever defiant, lifted her chin. "I don't expect you to understand. You weren't here. You didn't see it."

"Yeah, no shit I don't understand!" Shotaro shot back. "You basically just told me, 'Oh, hey, I had an entire group of people killed because of something they were in process of getting acounted for!' That's actual war criminal logic, Paliv! That's 'congratulations, you've just committed a light genocide' logic!"

She huffed, flipping her hair. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad."

"It is bad!"

Paliv rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Shotaro. Don't act like you haven't committed mass murder before."

"That was different!"

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "And how, exactly?"

Shotaro opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"...Okay, you know what? Fair."

Paliv smirked, as if she had just won some grand philosophical debate.

Shotaro, on the other hand, felt his soul leave his body.

Shotaro exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as he processed the sheer absurdity of what he had just heard. He had fought monsters, battled titans, and survived being in brazil, yet somehow, somehow, dealing with Paliv's brand of insanity was proving to be the single most exhausting challenge of his life.

He slowly turned his gaze toward her, crimson eyes unreadable, glowing faintly in the firelight.

"Like mother, like daughter, I guess," he muttered, voice flat.

Paliv blinked, tilting her head slightly. "Huh? What do you mean—?"

She didn't get to finish.

Because, in the very next instant, Shotaro's massive fist crashed into her stomach.

WHUMP.

A shockwave rippled through the air, rustling the leaves in the trees. The ground beneath Paliv's feet cracked slightly as the sheer force of the impact sent tremors through the earth.

Paliv's emerald eyes bulged wide. Her entire body jolted as all the air in her lungs violently evacuated in one go. For a split second, time seemed to slow, and a strange realization passed through her mind—

Oh.

Oh wow.

It's been a while since he hit her.

She had seen him punch monsters the size of castles into the stratosphere. She had seen him slap rakshases so hard their entire bloodlines felt it in past following days. But experiencing it firsthand?

Yeah. Yeah, she got it now.

Shotaro, meanwhile, stood over her, completely unfazed. "You both need some sense BEATEN into your skulls," he declared, voice firm, as if he were delivering an irrefutable law of the universe.

Paliv, still hunched over in agony, managed to let out a wheezing, "hhrkkkkkkk—"

Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, she collapsed face-first onto the ground.

Paliv lay sprawled on the ground, still struggling to breathe after Shotaro's gut punch had nearly sent her soul to the afterlife. Yet somehow, through sheer stubbornness (or maybe just spite), she managed to lift her head slightly, her emerald eyes burning with defiance.

Then, with all the energy she could muster, she spat out—

"You faggot…"

Silence.

The night air suddenly felt tense. The campfire crackled in the background, its warm glow unable to soften the sheer weight of what had just been said.

Shotaro's eye twitched. Where the hell did she learn that word?

His mind immediately began running through possibilities. Maybe some old knight muttered it in frustration? Maybe she overheard mercenaries talking? Maybe I shouldn't have let her hang around me too much…

But before he could ponder further, he heard a sudden noise behind him.

A rustling. Footsteps. And then—

"I won't let you hurt that beautiful fairy, you big beast!"

Shotaro turned just in time to see someone stepping out from the shadows—a Dark Elf.

A kid, no older than Paliv. In human terms, he looked like an average tenth grader—barely started puberty, just like her. His dark soot-greyish skin stood in stark contrast to the moonlit clearing, and his ametyst hair was slightly messy, as if he had sprinted all the way here without a second thought.

And now, with all the courage of a man facing down a dragon, he charged at Shotaro.

Shotaro blinked.

The Dark Elf clenched his fist. His legs moved as fast as they could. His expression was filled with determination, as if he genuinely believed he could take on a man who had sent criminals fleeing just by threatening to yeet them into the atmosphere.

Shotaro barely had time to process what was happening before—

WHAP!

The Dark Elf's fist connected squarely with Shotaro's abs.

Or at least, that's what should have happened.

Instead, the moment his knuckles made contact, a sickening crunch echoed in the air.

The boy froze.

Shotaro looked down.

The kid's face contorted in sheer, unfiltered agony as reality set in.

"AHHHHHHHHHH—"

The scream tore through the night as he stumbled backward, clutching his broken hand. Tears welled up in his eyes as he cradled his fingers, which were now twisted at angles they definitely should not have been.

"FUCK!" he shrieked, hopping in place, his entire body trembling from the pain. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AHHHHH, MY HAND—WHY IS IT LIKE THIS?!"

Shotaro, still looking down at him, was utterly flabbergasted.

He hadn't even moved.

This kid had basically punched a brick wall with full force and was now acting surprised that his brittle, teenage bones had given up on life.

For a moment, Shotaro just stared.

Then, as realization settled in, his face slowly morphed into something darker.

A sigh.

A tired, tired sigh.

"FUCK THEM KIDS."

And before the boy could react—

BAM!

Shotaro's open palm bitch-smacked him into the dirt.

The force wasn't even a fraction of what he had hit Paliv with, but for the Dark Elf kid, it was devastating. His body collapsed like a sack of potatoes, his head bouncing slightly before he groaned in pain.

His limbs twitched. He whimpered softly.

He had lost consciousness before he even hit the ground.

Shotaro exhaled. Then he turned his gaze back to Paliv, who was still lying on the ground, wheezing like an old man who had just climbed twenty flights of stairs.

Paliv barely had the energy to respond.

Shotaro sighed again. This was going to be a long night.