-----Narrator's POV-----
"…is there someone you want me to kill?"
Hitogami's mosaic features stretched as if his face couldn't quite contain the thrill sparking beneath it. He lifted both arms in a sweeping arc, fingers loose, and brought his palms together in a single sharp clap that cracked through the empty white world.
His head angled toward Reinhardt, the playful curve of his mouth dropping away in an instant, leaving a flat seriousness that felt out of place on a being who treated existence like a game table.
"That was a one‑time request," he said. "I wouldn't put my long‑term friend through that again."
Reinhardt's shoulders stiffened as his jaw tightned.
"That boy I told you to save the other day," he continued, "he will truly save your daughter. It was more likely he was fated to…"
Reinhardt's gaze didn't waver but his hands tightened.
"Fate is strong," the god murmured, almost to himself. "But destiny… destiny is quite weak."
He leaned forward with an playful tilt of the head.
"Tell me, Reinhardt—don't you think so?"
For a heartbeat, Reinhardt froze whist his eyes widened so slightly.
He then let out a quiet scoff, turning away from the god's probing gaze. He lowered himself to the ground with a slow motion, settling into a seated position as if the conversation bored him more than it troubled him.
"What should I know?" he muttered, eyes fixed on the blank horizon instead of the mosaic figure hovering behind him.
Hitogami, seeing his "friend's" disinterest, slipped into a tantrum with the ease of a child denied a toy. He paced tight circles around Reinhardt, arms swinging loosely, feet tapping with impatient rhythm. Reinhardt didn't rise to it as he simply lowered his chin, eyes half‑closed while the faint pulse of a vein beginning to throb at his temple.
Eventually Hitogami straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back, and positioned himself directly in front of Reinhardt.
"Lionel Dell Reinhardt."
Reinhardt's eyes opened slightly as he kept his gaze on the blank white floor.
"Leave Sebastian and Matheus alone in the Red Dragon Mountains," Hitogami said, voice suddenly calm.
Reinhardt's head tilted just enough to bring Hitogami's mosaic face into view as he watched one of his hand drifted upward with wide open palm facing the blank sky.
"The boys will stumble upon a weed in the Red Dragon's nest... A potent little thing… as strong as those Darkmor you've been digging up."
Reinhardt's chin lifted a fraction, the muscles along his jaw tightening. His brows drew together as the controlled anger surged from hearing something profoundly reckless.
"You're telling me to let them walk into a dragon's nest without supervision?" His voice stayed level, but the tension in his throat betrayed him. "They're children. I won't allow—"
"Reinhardt," Hitogami cut in with a prophetic tone, "if you accompany them, the dragons will rampage through the cave. They will burn everything in their path and the weed you seek will be scorched before it can ever be harvested."
The words hung in the air like a verdict.
Hitogami's shoulders rose with a slow inhale, then lowered as he exhaled through his nose.
"Despite how young they look," he added, "they're stronger than you think."
Reinhardt grunted, lifting one hand to his forehead, fingers bracing against the weight of his face while his other hand grasped on his knee.
"Okay, okay, I give in!" Hitogami said, throwing both hands up as if surrendering in a game he was still winning. "If you're that worried, then wait for the blue‑haired lady's signal before you go charging in."
Reinhardt's eyes narrowed.
Blue‑haired lady?
Did he mean the adventurer who arrived last week with Matheus?
Hitogami's grin sharpened as he waved his hand side to side.
"You are correct!"
Reinhardt let out a short snort and rolled onto his side settling into the floor with his arm stretched beneath his head facing away from Hitogami.
"Send me back."
The words left him without force, more like a door closing than a request.
Hitogami's smile thinned until it disappeared. He lowered himself into a crouch as his elbows rested on his knees.
"Sure…" he said.
His head tilted towards the blank sky.
"But I must warn you, Reinhardt…"
The white around them seemed to tighten, as if the space leaned closer.
"The moment your eyes settle on the Nine‑Headed Red Serpent painting… and you weigh whether it was worth it…" His voice dropped, each word falling slower than the last. "You must be ready to face what follows."
The sound stretched unnaturally, thinning as it traveled. Reinhardt's vision dimmed at the edges.
The white world folded inward.
Then everything went dark.
-----
A small voice pushed its way through the last threads of Reinhardt's fading dream, tugging him upward like a hand pulling him from deep water.
His chest felt tight, as if something heavy had settled on it. Light pressed against his eyelids, forcing them open. The blur sharpened into a round face hovering above him—green eyes wide, orange hair falling forward as the child leaned in close.
Her weight rocked against his ribs, squeezing the air from him.
"Dad! Wake up!"
The shout hit him before the rest of the world did.
Reinhardt's confusion eased as his eyes adjusted. The tension in his brow loosened, and the corners of his mouth shifted with a warmth that softened the lines of his face.
"What's up, little sparrow?"
His hand rose—large enough to cover her back—and settled on her head. His fingers moved slowly through her hair, brushing it aside with a steady rhythm.
"What do you mean, what's wrong!" she said, bouncing once on his chest. "You said you'd take me to see the white foxes today! I've been wait—"
Her voice broke.
A cough tore through her, sharp enough to fold her forward. She tried to hold it back, pressing both hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking until the fit passed.
When it stopped, the energy she carried a moment ago slipped away. Her posture curled inward, elbows tucked close, chin lowering as she tried to steady her breath.
Reinhardt's hand remained on her head, unmoving as his eyes settle firm on his daughter's pained face.
"Once you get better my daughter..."
Alice slowly lifted her head to meet her father's warm smile.
"Let's go see those white foxes."
-----
-----Nanahoshi POV-----
3 Hours after the Teleportation
Hello… my name is Nanahoshi Shizuka.
I'm fifteen years old, born and raised in the center of Tokyo—neon lights, crowded trains, convenience stores on every corner. For fifteen years I lived in a world where the biggest things I had to deal with were test scores, group chats, and whatever relationship drama came from the newest trending show.
And yet here I am.
My socks feel damp again. My shirt clings to my back like glue. The air in these caverns sticks to my skin, and the smell—gods, the smell—no matter how many basic hygiene products I've tried to introduce to the Asura Kingdom, I can't even take a proper bath.
A bath…
Just thinking the word makes my head buzz.
Maybe I could introduce public baths too. Hot water, steam, clean floors—yes, that could work. If I could just—
"Nanahoshi."
His voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up, and the tall man with silver hair and gold eyes was staring straight at me. Orsted. The first person who helped me survive in this world. He always looks stern, but he listens. He helps. He answers—well, most of the time.
"Could you let go of my cloak?"
I tightened my grip.
"No."
His brow lowered, the same way my father's used to when I refused to do chores. And just like my father, he clearly didn't understand.
"I told you," I said, pulling the cloak closer. "You're not leaving me in this dark place. Wherever you're going, you're taking me with you."
My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn't loosen my hold.
And seriously—what is he even thinking? Leaving a perfectly normal, perfectly cute girl alone in these creepy caverns?
Orsted looked at me again where he tilts his head a little... Honestly, I don't think he's ever had a normal conversation in his life.
"I am about to enter the Red Hydra's lair."
H-Hydra?
My shoulders locked up so fast I swear I heard something crack.
"Even against a nine‑headed hydra, I can't guarantee your safety. That's why you should remain here."
"Okay, I get it… but I'll be staying here alone. What if a monster attacks me?"
It came out way softer than I meant, like my voice just shrank on its own. Orsted's eyes shifted past me, like he suddenly remembered something important he forgot to do.
"Ah. I haven't given you those rings yet."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out two rings with gemstones, one orange and other blue. They caught the tiny bit of light in the cave and looked way too fancy for a place like this.
"This is a physical barrier projection ring and this one is a magical barrier projection ring."
He held them out.
I hesitated… then let go of his cloak and took them. The metal felt cold, like they'd been sitting in a freezer.
"How do I activate them?" I asked, sliding them onto my fingers and opening and closing my hand like some magical girl transformation was about to happen.
"Through your will. Now I shall get going."
Through my will?? What does that even—
Do I think "activate"? Do I shout something? Do I—
A huge red flash exploded behind me.
I whipped around so fast my hair slapped me in the face.
"WAIT—!"
The light got brighter.
I threw my arms up covering my eyes as the whole cavern lit up briefly then died down.
Urrgh, that man. He seriously has zero tact.
The moment Orsted disappeared into that blinding red light, the whole cavern went quiet. I slid myself into the nearest corner, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them. The rings pressed into my palms as I squeezed them together.
"He better hurry…" I muttered into my sleeves.
After a brief moment, I had this strange sense that I felt something shift in the cave... More like the air begun to move...
My back straightened on its own, and I held my breath without meaning to, trying to listen to the quietness.
A chill crawled down my spine, slow and thin, like a drop of water sliding under my shirt. The feeling of being watched crept up on me, settling right between my shoulder blades.
My fingers tightened around the rings until they went numb.
Then I could faintly hear some sounds in the far corridor of the cave...
Faint at first, bouncing off the stone walls in uneven echoes. My stomach dropped so fast it felt like it wasn't even inside me anymore. The steps grew louder, closer, and my legs started shaking on their own.
Monster. It has to be a monster. Great. Perfect. I'm going to die in this cave all alone.
But then something else slipped into the rhythm echoes.
Sounds came in uneven waves, rising and falling, overlapping each other like ripples bumping into ripples. Some were sharp, some low, all of them blending into a kind of broken rhythm that didn't belong to the cave itself.
My breath caught.
Whatever it was, it wasn't moving like a beast. The noises had patterns—pauses, bursts, little stutters—almost like… like someone trading sounds back and forth.
I leaned in without meaning to, trying to catch the shape of it. The cave bounced everything around, turning it into muffled blobs, but the cadence felt familiar in a way that made my chest loosen just a little.
My pulse picked up as I stayed low, listening. The echoes thickened as they neared, as I could clearly listen to a jumble of tones I couldn't understand.
For a moment, I considered stepping out—showing myself, making it clear I wasn't a threat. But the memory of how people behaved in this world held me still.
A lone girl appearing in a place like this would raise questions before anything else.
So my best option is…
---Narrator POV-----
The young girl with long black hair slipped behind a boulder, pressing herself into the shadow it cast. The circular chamber sat hollow as the scraped floor still bared the faint grooves where the magic circle had been lifted away.
Light broke the darkness first.
A warm glow spilled across the stone as the leading figure stepped inside.
He moved with quick, light steps that barely disturbed the dust on the floor. His build was lean and wiry, shaped for slipping through tight spaces. His face had broad, rounded ears set slightly wide on his head and a flat, wide‑set nose that gave his silhouette a distinct outline in the lantern glow. Leather boots padded softly against the stone. Above them, dark travel cloth wrapped his legs, with small leather pouches hanging from his waist and clinking as he moved. His upper body wore only a short jacket that barely covered the upper body, leaving some chest hair exposed, with a leather strap crossing over his torso to a small shoulder guard and worn forearm bracers. A medium backpack rested against his spine, its straps pulled tight as he swept the lantern in a slow, practiced arc across the chamber.
"It's all clear," he called back.
A heavier figure stepped through next. Wolf‑like ears stood atop his head, and a striped tail swayed behind him with slow, controlled movements. His skin held a deep brown tone stretched over a powerful frame, and a long scar cut diagonally across his chest, the pale mark stark against the muscle beneath. Long, dark‑gray hair hung past his shoulders, framing sharp red eyes that swept the chamber with steady focus.
Simple sandals wrapped around his feet. Above them, loose black cloth covered his legs, tied at the waist with a layered tribal sash. His chest was bare, save for a single leather strap running diagonally across his torso, securing a massive broadsword against his back. White cloth bindings wrapped tightly around his forearms, creasing the skin beneath with each subtle movement.
"This place stinks," he muttered, sniffing the air.
Metal clanked behind him.
A dwarf trudged in next, short but built like a compact fortress. His beard was thick and braided, ending in metal clasps shaped like tiny bear paws. His armor was layered and dense, plates overlapping like forged scales. A massive shield, nearly the size of his entire body, was strapped to his back, and a flail hung from his hand, the chain swaying with each step.
He stroked his beard, the clasps clicking softly.
"Mhm. This room's adequate for a quick break," he said.
A taller figure followed, tallest of the group, though his build stayed lean, almost stretched. His skin carried a dark green‑bluish tone, a muted sheen like something accustomed to damp places. His legs bent with a backward curve at the knee, the lower portion widening into a firm, paddle‑shaped structure before tapering into long, bare feet that pressed flat against the stone with a soft, wet tap.
Loose white cloth hung in wide folds down to his ankles, tied tight at the cuffs and held at the waist by a tribal belt strung with small beads and bone pieces. A single chest plate covered the area over his heart, and a short cape draped from his shoulders. Thin tattoo lines marked his face and arms, looping in ritual patterns that caught the lantern light. His hair, surprisingly long, was divided into neat strands, each pinned with metal rings that kept the lengths perfectly aligned down his back.
At his hip rested a straight metal bar with a hilt drilled through by two circular holes.
He stood silent, posture straight, eyes fixed forward.
And lastly-
A man stumbled in.
His iconic black hair was long and tangled, his beard uneven, his clothes worn thin at the elbows and knees. He swayed with each step, the scent of cheap alcohol drifting off him like a fog. Despite the ragged appearance, a bright silver charm hung around his neck—a cross‑shaped piece polished so clean it caught the lantern light like a shard of moonlight.
AS the warrior's settled in the circular room, in the very far corner of the room just behind the boulder, the girl pressed herself deeper into the shadow, holding her breath together in the hopes that they would pass along.