VOL. 2: CHAPTER 20 — “THE INVITATION YOU REFUSED ONCE BEFORE, THE CITY THAT WORSHIPS ORDER, AND THE PRICE OF STABILITY”

— KAI’S POV —

“Next!”

The guild clerk’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I stepped up to the counter.

She barely looked up.
Quill in hand.
Expression bored in the way only people surrounded by danger daily could manage.

“Name?”

“Kairen Nacht.”

“Race?”

“Human.”

She paused for half a second, then continued writing.
“Origin?”

“Wanderer.”

She snorted. “Aren’t you all.”

A crystal plate slid toward me.

“Touch. Mana verification.”

I placed my hand on it—carefully.
The crystal glowed a soft, unremarkable blue.
Perfect.

『Output suppressed to civilian-adventurer baseline.』
『No Authority resonance detected.』

Good girl.

The clerk nodded. “Rank starts at F. You live long enough, you move up. You die, we recycle your card.”

She stamped the parchment and shoved a bronze guild card toward me.
“Welcome to the Valenheim Adventurer’s Guild.”

I picked it up.
Kairen Nacht — Rank F.
A disposable life with a clean slate.
Exactly what I wanted.
Or so I thought.

— RYN’S POV —

I watched the new guy finish registration.
Didn’t know why, honestly.
He didn’t look special.

Didn’t smell like noble blood or academy arrogance. Didn’t swagger like the idiots who thought rank D made them legends.

He was quiet.
Too quiet.
That kind of quiet usually meant one of two things:
Trauma or trouble.

I grinned and pushed off the pillar.

“Well?” I said, stepping into his path. “You look like someone who doesn’t have friends yet.”

The guy blinked.

“…That was fast.”

“I’m efficient,” I said proudly. “Name’s Ryn. This is Lyka.”

— LYKA’S POV —

I leaned forward, tail swishing lazily behind me.
Wolfkin ears flicked as I sniffed the air around the human.

Strange.
He smelled… empty.
Not weak.
Just… hollow.

“Lyka,” I said cheerfully. “Standard beastman powers. Enhanced senses. Good in a fight. Great at not dying.”

Ryn snorted. “Debatable.”

I smiled wider and looked at the new guy.
“You don’t smell like a liar,” I decided. “That’s a good start.”

He stared at me.
“…Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Very.”

— KAI’S POV —

I stared at the two idiots blocking my path.
They were… normal.

Annoyingly so.

No calculating eyes.
No religious fervor.
No political undertones.
Just two adventurers looking for a third to split quest rewards.

“Thanks,” I said flatly, “but I’m not interested in joining a party.”

Ryn’s grin faltered slightly.

Lyka tilted her head.
“Oh?” she said. “Why not?”

Because parties get attached.
Because attachments die.
Because—

“I work alone,” I said.

Ryn shrugged. “So did I. Then I almost got eaten by a swamp hydra.”

Lyka nodded. “He screamed.”

“I did not—!”

“You screamed.”

I turned to leave.
That’s when—

“Please.”

I stopped.
The voice wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t desperate.

It was… careful.

Like someone afraid of breaking something fragile.
I turned.

— CHORONA’S POV —

I hadn’t meant to speak.
The word slipped out before I could stop it.

“Please,” I said again, softer now.

The boy—Kairen—turned fully toward me.
This time, nothing blurred.

For one heartbeat—
Our eyes met.
And the world… paused.

Not visibly.
Not dramatically.
But I felt it.

A tightening.
Like a held breath.
My chest ached sharply, and I swallowed, forcing myself to continue.

“Just… hear us out,” I said. “If you still want to refuse, that’s fine.”

His gaze searched my face.
Not like someone judging.
Like someone bracing.

I didn’t know why that hurt.
Behind him, the silver thread at my wrist pulsed faintly.

— AMARA (INTERNAL) —

『Warning. Probability fluctuation detected.』
『Causality interference localized around female subject.』
『Designation: Undefined Constant — Chorona Silver.』

I did not inform Master Kai.

— KAI’S POV —

I should’ve said no.
I wanted to say no.

But something in her voice—

Not familiarity.
Not memory.
Something worse.
Expectation.

“…One mission,” I said finally. “That’s it.”

Ryn’s eyes lit up.
“Yes! See? Told you I was charming.”

Lyka pumped a fist. “New guy joined! Drinks later!”

The girl—Chorona—exhaled quietly.

Relief.
Real relief.
That didn’t make sense.

“…Chorona,” she said after a moment. “My name.”

I nodded once.
“Kairen.”

A lie.
But for some reason—
It felt heavier than usual.

— RYN’S POV —

I clapped my hands together.
“Great! Mission board’s fresh today. Low-risk, mid-pay. Perfect for warming up.”

Lyka grinned. “And if something goes wrong?”

I glanced at Kairen.
He looked… tired.
But steady.

“Then,” I said, smiling, “we improvise.”

— CHORONA’S POV —

As we walked together toward the board, I felt it again.
That quiet certainty.

 Like this moment mattered. 
Like I had almost missed something important.

I didn’t know why.
I only knew—
If he walked away again—

Something inside me would break.

— VALENHEIM CIVILIAN POV (BAKER’S DAUGHTER) —

The bells rang at dawn.
They always did.

Three slow chimes, followed by seven sharp ones—marking the Emperor’s hour. The baker’s daughter wiped flour from her hands and bowed her head with practiced ease, lips moving in silent prayer.

May the Empire endure.
May order prevail.
May chaos be purged.

Around her, the street froze.

Merchants stopped mid-argument. Children halted their games. Even the stray dogs seemed to quiet, tails low, ears back.

Only after the final bell faded did the city breathe again.

“Alright,” her father muttered, sliding bread into the oven. “Back to work.”

She nodded and resumed kneading dough.
She had never questioned the ritual.
No one did.

Order was comfort.
Order was safety.
Order was survival.

That’s what they were taught.

— KAI’S POV —

Valenheim didn’t feel alive.
It felt… maintained.

I walked with the party through the central districts, hood down this time. Blending in here didn’t require hiding—humans were everywhere, after all. What mattered was posture. Pace. Compliance.

People moved with purpose.
Not urgency.
Purpose.

Streets were clean to the point of sterility. Buildings rose in straight lines, stone and steel fused with mana-reinforced beams. No crooked alleys. No organic sprawl. Even the trees planted along the roads were trimmed into identical shapes.

Uniformity.

“It’s neat, right?” Ryn said, stretching his arms. “First time I came here, I thought it was impressive.”

“Still do?” I asked.

He hesitated.
“…You get used to it.”

Lyka snorted. “That’s not a compliment.”

She walked beside me, tail flicking lazily, eyes sharp. Beastmen stood out here—not persecuted outright, but watched. Guards’ gazes lingered a fraction longer on her than on Ryn or Chorona.

Chorona walked quietly, hands folded in front of her.
She moved like someone who knew these streets by heart.
Because she did.

— CHORONA’S POV —

Valenheim hadn’t changed much.

That was the problem.

The banners still hung from every tower—crimson cloth emblazoned with the sun-and-sword sigil. Imperial slogans carved into stone arches, etched so deeply they would outlast generations.

Strength is Order.
Order is Humanity.
Humanity is the World.

I remembered reading them as a child.
I remembered believing them.

People bowed when patrols passed. Not out of fear—out of habit. Children recited imperial oaths in schools. Priests preached obedience as virtue, loyalty as salvation.

I’d lived here long enough to know:
Valenheim didn’t crush people.
It shaped them.

I glanced at Kairen.
He was watching everything.
Not with awe.
With calculation.

That scared me more than anger would have.

— IMPERIAL SOLDIER POV —

The patrol marched in perfect formation, boots striking stone in flawless rhythm. Captain Haldric scanned the street with trained precision, noting posture, clothing, expressions.

Order was visible.
Order was measurable.
That was how you knew the city was safe.

His gaze lingered briefly on a wolfkin female.

Beastman.
Adventurer gear.
No threat.

Then the human beside her.

Black hair.
Calm eyes.
Too calm.

Haldric frowned slightly.
Something about the boy felt… off.
Not dangerous.
Not weak.
Just—

Unaligned.

He dismissed the thought and continued marching.
An Empire could not afford paranoia.

— KAI’S POV —

“They really like their slogans,” I muttered.

Ryn laughed. “You get used to tuning them out.”

“That’s worse.”

Lyka grinned. “Told you.”

We passed a public square where a crowd had gathered. A raised platform stood at its center, flanked by banners and imperial guards. A man in white-and-gold robes spoke with practiced authority.

“…and thus, by the Emperor’s will, we ensure peace,” the priest declared. “For where chaos festers, suffering follows!”

The crowd murmured approval.

I watched faces.
Not fanatical.
Reassured.
This wasn’t blind devotion.
This was comfort.

“Propaganda,” I said quietly.

Ryn shrugged. “Maybe. But the streets are safe. Monsters don’t breach the walls. Food’s stable. Can’t argue with results.”

I could.
I just didn’t say it.
Because I’d seen this before.

Not in this world.
In mine.

— CHORONA’S POV —

We passed the eastern district—older stone, narrower streets. This was where adventurers lived. Where guild influence softened imperial control just enough for people to breathe.

Here, laughter sounded more genuine.

A blacksmith argued with a mage over enchantment prices. Children chased each other between stalls. An old woman scolded a drunk adventurer for blocking her doorway.

Life.

I noticed Kairen’s shoulders ease slightly.
Just a little.

“You’re quiet,” I said.

He glanced at me. “Just observing.”

“…What do you see?”

He didn’t answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was low.

“A machine,” he said. “One that runs smoothly as long as every part behaves exactly as expected.”

Ryn chuckled. “You make it sound evil.”

“I make it sound fragile.”

Lyka hummed thoughtfully. “Machines break.”

Chorona felt a chill.

— IMPERIAL ANNOUNCEMENT (CITY-WIDE) —

Mana-amplified voices echoed through the district.

“Citizens of Valenheim. By decree of His Radiant Majesty, Emperor Alistair Greve—
Vigilance is required.
Anomalies threaten the harmony of our world.
Report irregularities.

Trust in order.
Trust in the Empire.”

The crowd bowed instinctively.

Chorona did too.
A half-second late.

— KAI’S POV —

I didn’t bow.
No one noticed.
Or maybe—
They chose not to.

“Anomalies,” I repeated quietly.

Ryn scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s been a thing lately. Church’s been loud about it.”

Lyka frowned. “Too loud.”

Chorona’s fingers tightened slightly.
I caught it.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m very regular.”

Ryn snorted. “You? Yeah, sure.”

I smiled faintly.
Let them think that.

— IMPERIAL POV: TEMPLE OF RADIANT ORDER —

The High Hall was immaculate.

White marble pillars rose toward a vaulted ceiling etched with golden sigils. Light poured through stained glass depicting humanity’s triumphs—armies marching, cities rising, monsters falling beneath the sun-and-sword emblem.

At the center stood High Inquisitor Aldren Voss.
His robes were pristine.

His posture perfect.
His eyes cold.

“Order,” he said calmly, voice carrying across the chamber, “is not kindness.”

Priests knelt.
Templars stood at attention.
Scribes recorded every word.

“Order,” Aldren continued, “is sacrifice.”

A ripple of murmured affirmation followed.

“Chaos wears many masks. Monsters. Heretics. Anomalies.” His gaze hardened. “Those who do not belong threaten those who do.”

He raised a gloved hand.
“Compassion toward such threats is cruelty toward humanity.”

The hall echoed with a single word:
“Amen.”

Aldren lowered his hand slowly.
“Begin Phase Two.”

— KAI’S POV —

I didn’t like this street.

The buildings were closer together here, shadows stretching unnaturally long despite the afternoon sun. Religious districts always felt like that—like the light was borrowed, not earned.

We passed a temple plaza where white-robed clerics preached from raised platforms.

“Order saves lives!” one called.
“Faith protects the innocent!” another echoed.

People listened.

Not desperately.
Not blindly.
Gratefully.

Ryn leaned closer to me. “Try not to stare too hard. Priests don’t like it.”

“I’m not staring,” I said. “I’m remembering.”

He blinked. “Remembering what?”

“…Earth.”

Chorona slowed slightly, walking beside me now instead of behind.

“You’ve seen this before,” she said quietly.

“Different banners,” I replied. “Same script.”

Back home, it had been flags instead of sigils. Speeches instead of sermons. Leaders who promised safety in exchange for obedience.

It always started the same way.

— CHORONA’S POV —

The temple bells rang again.
Closer this time.
My shoulders tensed instinctively.

I had learned, growing up here, that bells meant attention. And attention, in Valenheim, was never neutral.

“Don’t worry,” Lyka muttered, ears flattening slightly. “They won’t grab people in daylight.”

Won’t, not can’t.
That distinction mattered.

I glanced at Kairen.
He was calm.
Too calm.

His gaze flicked from cleric to guard to sigil, cataloging patterns, distances, escape routes.
Not fear.
Preparation.

I wondered what he’d had to survive to look like that.

— IMPERIAL POV: STREET PATROL COMMAND —

Captain Haldric listened as a junior officer reported.
“—multiple sightings of unknown adventurers. No violations recorded, sir.”

Haldric folded his hands behind his back.
“And the anomaly reports?”

“Nothing concrete. Just… irregular mana fluctuations near the Guild.”

Haldric’s jaw tightened.
“Keep watching. The Emperor wants early detection.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officer left, Haldric turned toward the window overlooking the city.

Order was fragile.
Anyone who claimed otherwise had never been responsible for maintaining it.

— KAI’S POV —

We stopped at a vendor selling skewered meat.
Ryn bought four without asking.

“First round’s on me,” he said. “Consider it a welcome.”

Lyka bit into hers happily. “See? Valenheim isn’t all sermons and soldiers.”

I took a bite.
It was… good.
Well-seasoned.

Properly cooked.
Stability tastes nice, I thought.
That was the danger.

People accepted chains more easily when they were fed.

A nearby commotion drew my attention, a man knelt in the street, hands raised, surrounded by two templars. His clothes were threadbare. His mana signature weak.

“I swear,” he said shakily, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Unauthorized spell use,” a templar declared. “You know the law.”

“It was just to warm my hands—!”

The crowd watched.
Some sympathetic.
None intervening.

The templar raised his staff.

“That’s enough,” Ryn muttered under his breath.

I stepped forward—
And stopped.

Chorona’s hand had closed around my sleeve.

Her grip wasn’t strong.
But it was desperate.

“…Please,” she whispered.

I looked at her.
She wasn’t afraid for the man.
She was afraid for me.

I exhaled slowly and stepped back.

The templars dragged the man away.
The crowd dispersed.
Order restored.

— LYKA’S POV —

I watched Kairen’s jaw tighten.
Watched his hands curl, then relax.
He’d wanted to act.

Good.
That meant he wasn’t numb.
But he hadn’t.

Better.

That meant he wasn’t reckless.

Still…
This city chewed people like him up.

— KAI’S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE —

This is the price, I realized.

Not blood in the streets.
Not screaming tyrants.

Just small injustices, enforced consistently, until people forgot what resistance felt like.

On Earth, they’d called it “necessary.”
Here, they called it “order.”

Different worlds.
Same lie.

— IMPERIAL BROADCAST (DISTANT) —

“Citizens are reminded:
Faith ensures safety.
Obedience ensures peace.
Report irregularities to your nearest authority.”

The voice faded into the hum of the city.

Chorona looked down, fingers brushing the silver thread at her wrist.

I noticed.
I didn’t know why it mattered.
But it did.

— KAI’S POV —

As we resumed walking, Amara spoke quietly.
『Imperial surveillance intensity increasing.』

『Threat level: latent.』
『Recommendation: maintain low profile.』

“Already planned,” I murmured.

Ahead of us, the city continued its perfect rhythm.
Behind us, unseen eyes followed.

Valenheim was stable.
Because instability was punished before it could breathe.

And somehow—
I knew.

Sooner or later—
That would include me.