Uninvited

Renn clutched his chest, his breath finally steadying. The dagger was gone, the tension fading, and dinner—actual food—was finally in sight. He staggered up, legs wobbling as if made of jelly. As the others stood and prepared to exit the strategy room, the hallway ahead seemed like a blessed tunnel of peace and roast meat.

“I… I lived…” Renn whispered under his breath. “Barely…”

Steel offered him a light clap on the shoulder, though the force nearly made Renn trip again. “You did good, rookie.”

Renn managed a shaky smile.

But just as Sebas rose from his seat, adjusting his gloves, his voice cut through the quiet air like a dagger.

“Well then. Now that we’re done here…” he said, calm yet sharp, “won’t our uninvited guest introduce themselves?”

Even Steel cocked his head. “Huh?”

Then whizz, a small object burst through the air.

Sebas moved without pause. His hand whipped out and caught the projectile in mid-air, just before it exploded into a thick, opaque smoke. With a snap of his fingers, an orb of mana surrounded it, muffling the detonation into a muffled pop.

“Trap orb,” he said coolly, letting the orb drop to the ground.

The smoke cloud burst into the room.

From the haze, a cloaked figure shot forward, small, nimble, and fast. Wind magic coursed around her feet, pushing her across the floor like a gliding specter.

She made for the window, her cloak fluttering behind her. A trail of magical wind left dust and leaves scattering in her wake.

She didn’t expect resistance.

But Steel was already moving.

With a low, heavy step, the armored man launched forward like a boulder hurled by the gods. His fist gleamed under the dim light, fueled by excitement, not anger.

BOOM!

Steel’s armored fist slammed into her side just before she could vault through the open window. Her momentum shattered, her body smashed into the bookshelf behind her. Books and broken wood rained down with a crash.

From the thickening smoke, Sebas stepped forward, not even glancing at the mess.

“Impressive,” he said to Steel, voice cool but unmistakably pleased. “Even with wind magic to accelerate her movements, you caught her mid-flight. Nicely done.”

Steel gave a small huff, clearly trying and failing not to look smug. “She was fast. I was faster.”

But before Renn could sigh in relief—

Thunk!

A dagger embedded itself in the wall near Sebas.

Then came the soft tap of feet, several of them.

More figures dropped into the room, silhouettes flickering through the smoke—assassins, their black hoods and lithe frames ghost-like in the chaos. Two, three, no, four in total, surrounding them in a loose pincer.

Renn backed away instinctively. “M-more of them?!”

One of the assassins lunged at Sebas.

The butler moved like the wind... no, like a bolt of lighting bound in silk. His fist whipped forward, imbued with raw mana.

CRACK!

He punched a hole straight through the assassin’s chest. The man’s eyes bulged in disbelief before collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.

Renn froze in terror. “D-did he just…?!”

Two of the remaining assassins flanked Steel. Unlike their fallen comrade, they didn’t rely on brute speed.

They aimed precisely.

CHNK!

Their daggers pierced through the gaps in Steel’s armor—between his pauldrons and torso. The curved blades sank deep.

“Got him!” one of them shouted, voice panicked but victorious. “The poison’s in! Basilisk venom—fast-acting! If there’s even a drop of blood, he’s dead!”

The second added with a growl, “We weren’t briefed to kill the town’s lord, but if it ensures he’s silenced—so be it!”

They turned to flee.

But then—something moved behind them.

A slow, eerie creak of armor.

The assassin who had first been punched into the bookshelf suddenly gasped, feeling cold steel pierce through his abdomen.

He looked down to see a blade thrust through him.

He turned—wide-eyed—to see the man in armor, still standing, still moving, still alive—even with multiple daggers protruding from his joints.

“You talk too much,” Steel said.

He retracted his sword.

The assassin fell, lifeless.

The two others stopped in horror.

“B-but… the poison—?!”

Steel raised his gauntlet and flicked off one of the blades sticking out. His voice came out amused.

“Lucky for me…”

Clang.

“…I don’t bleed.”

Coolest. Line. Ever.

Internally though, he was sweating metaphorical bullets. 

Wait, seriously? It doesn’t work? Holy crap, poison doesn’t work on me?! That's awesome!

The two assassins didn’t share his enthusiasm. One dropped his weapon and tried to run, but was caught mid-sprint by Sebas’s devastating clothesline.

The last one turned, just in time to see Lina behind him.

With an innocent smile, the little maid swept his feet with her broom. The man hit the floor with a painful crack and groan.

Silence fell.

Renn, now crouched behind an overturned chair, slowly peeked up. “...I don’t know if I’m terrified… or amazed.”

Steel dusted off his armor. “Both is normal.”

Sebas straightened his coat, surveying the room, smoke, bodies, broken shelves… and Lina, now gleefully rummaging through the pockets of the unconscious man she just broomed, even humming as she poked his cheeks and tugged his belt pouch.

Steel blinked. “She’s pickpocketing him.”

Sebas pressed a hand to his temple.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he said curtly. “The last thing I need is more chaos destroying my home.”

He threw a sharp look at Lina.

She froze mid-looting and slowly placed a candlestick she definitely didn’t own back into the assassin’s coat.

Renn glanced between all of them, utterly overwhelmed.

“…What is this household?”

Sebas adjusted his gloves.

“What do you fancy for dinner, My Lord?”

***

The long dining table stretched before them, adorned with silverware, ornate goblets, and an impressive display of food that would make even a royal banquet seem modest. Steaming platters of roasted meat, carefully stacked vegetables carved into floral shapes, and delicate pastries were all arranged with such precision it felt almost sinful to touch them.

Renn stood awkwardly at the entrance to the dining hall before slowly taking his seat. His eyes were wide, barely blinking as he took in the luxurious display.

"This is... incredible," Renn muttered in awe, unable to hold back. "The food looks amazing."

Sebas, who remained standing dutifully by Steel's side, bowed slightly with a calm expression.

"It is the duty of a butler to ensure every part of his master's life is served with elegance and perfection," Sebas replied smoothly.

"I completely agree with Sebas," Lina chimed in cheerfully from the side.

Renn blinked. She was already seated and, to his growing confusion, had both cheeks puffed out with food as she continued to chew noisily. One of her hands was reaching for a piece of bread while the other still held a fork with a half-eaten slice of meat on it.

"Wait… why is she eating first?" Renn whispered under his breath, not sure if this was a breach of some noble etiquette or just... odd.

He turned to look at Steel, who seemed to be staring at the food in delighted silence. Then, with a quiet clunk, Steel removed his helmet and placed it beside his plate.

Renn’s eyes widened.

There was a warm, almost childlike grin on Steel's face as he picked up a knife and fork. A soft blue glow radiated from his neck, where his head connected to his body. It pulsed gently like a flame caught in glass, steady and rhythmic.

The sight made Renn’s curiosity flare even more. What was that glow? Was it magic? A blessing?

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating on the name.

"Stee—"

"You shall refer to him as Xertia while within this property," Sebas said suddenly, his voice cutting through the clinking of plates like a blade through silk.

Renn froze. He looked between the butler and the man now known as Xertia.

"Xertia?" Renn repeated slowly. The name rang in his ears like a chime of recognition. Then, it struck him.

"Wait... Xertia. You mean the Xertia? The holy knight from the Holy Empire? The one who fought in the Siege of Marlevan? And the Battle of the Silver Gorge? The man who was granted lordship over an entire island for single-handedly pushing back a demonic tide?"

Renn’s voice had risen in pitch without him realizing it.

Xertia blinked mid-bite, surprised by the sudden outburst. Then a big grin stretched across his face as he elbowed Sebas like an excited child who had just received a long-awaited compliment.

"Finally! Someone who actually knows me!"

Renn nodded quickly, his excitement overtaking his usual nerves.

"I heard about your feats when I was in the capital. They used to tell stories about how you carried the banner into cursed lands and emerged with demon heads. I never thought I’d meet you. Let alone eat at the same table!"

Xertia beamed, practically glowing with pride. Inside, he felt a strange sense of warmth. Ever since waking up in this world and in this body, no one on the island had recognized him. All he got were polite nods, political flattery, or veiled threats like the mayor’s sugar-coated lies. But this… this felt genuine. It reminded him of the old days.

Renn gave a quick nod, visibly energized.

"I grew up hearing stories about you. Some even said you were the closest thing to a hero the Holy Kingdom had birthed in a generation."

Xertia raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head curiously.

"Really, a Hero?"

Renn laughed awkwardly and scratched his cheek.

"Lately, there’s been a lot of talk in the capital… whispers, really. Of someone new. A spark that lit up not long after the Holy Kingdom mourned your… well, what they thought was your death. I don’t know much. Just that… something changed there. Like the Holy Kingdom is holding its breath, waiting for something to rise. Or someone."

Xertia paused, his fork hovering mid-air.

"Hah. Well, the Kingdom’s always loved drama," he said with a shrug. "Let them whisper. I’m enjoying my retirement from world-saving."

Renn chuckled and turned his gaze back to the glowing line at Xertia’s neck.

"That glow… is it some sort of divine blessing? Or enchantment?"

Xertia opened his mouth, instinctively ready to answer with the truth—"I'm a dullahan"—but Sebas, ever sharp, stepped in before the words escaped.

"It is the lingering mark of a powerful curse," the butler said smoothly. "Inflicted during a battle with a lich. His survival was miraculous, but it left… consequences."

Xertia blinked and quickly nodded, catching on.

"Yes. Yes, that. A very stubborn curse. Glows. Terrible fashion statement, but what can you do?"

Renn nodded slowly, still intrigued but polite enough not to push further.

The rest of the dinner passed with strange warmth. Lina stuffed herself gleefully with desserts, Sebas stood poised like a silent sentinel, and Xertia laughed at his own jokes. Renn smiled, even if part of him still wondered what kind of strange world he’d stepped into.

And far, far away from that quiet dinner on the hill, the Holy Kingdom continued to whisper.

Something was stirring in the shadows of its churches.

A light newly kindled.

A name not yet known."

Renn laughed awkwardly and scratched his cheek.

"I mean, not anymore. Those stories are probably outdated. Lately, there’s been a lot of talk in the capital… whispers, really. Of someone new. A spark that lit up not long after the Holy Kingdom mourned your… well, what they thought was your death. I don’t know much. Just that… something changed there. Like the Holy Kingdom is holding its breath, waiting for something to rise. Or someone."

Xertia paused, his fork hovering mid-air.

He tried to hide it, but a faint shiver crept along his spine, one he couldn’t quite explain. Something about those words felt too… aligned. Like the timing wasn’t a coincidence.

But he shook the thought aside and focused on his food.

"Hah. Well...," he said with a shrug. "Let them whisper. Less responsibility to me either way."

Renn chuckled and turned his gaze back to the glowing line at Xertia’s neck.

"That glow… is it some sort of divine blessing? Or enchantment?"

Xertia opened his mouth, instinctively ready to answer with the truth—"I'm a dullahan"—but Sebas, ever sharp, stepped in before the words escaped.

"It is the lingering mark of a powerful curse," the butler said smoothly. "Inflicted during a battle with a lich. His survival was miraculous, but it left… consequences."

Xertia blinked and quickly nodded, catching on.

"Yes. Yes, that. A very stubborn curse. Glows. Terrible fashion statement, but what can you do?"

Renn nodded slowly, still intrigued but polite enough not to push further.

The rest of the dinner passed with strange warmth. Lina stuffed herself gleefully with desserts, Sebas stood poised like a silent sentinel, and Xertia laughed at his own jokes. Renn smiled, even if part of him still wondered what kind of strange world he’d stepped into.

And far, far away from that quiet dinner on the hill, the Holy Kingdom continued to whisper.

Something was stirring in the shadows of its churches.

A light newly kindled.

A name not yet known.

A women bathe in light. 

A hero was born.