Natsu left the alleyway block behind and continued forward without changing his pace.
The Amber Sun Inn didn't take long to appear.
It was a spacious three-story building constructed of light-colored stone, with well-maintained dark wood detailing. Unlike many structures in the city, the place conveyed a sense of stability and comfort. The sun symbol carved above the main door softly reflected the amber light from the lanterns attached to the outer walls, creating a welcoming atmosphere—almost overly warm for a city so close to the desert.
Upon entering, the interior confirmed the first impression.
The lobby was spacious, with polished wooden flooring and thick rugs strategically placed to contain the dust brought in from the street. Magical lamps floated near the ceiling, emitting a steady, gentle light. Simple yet comfortable sofas were arranged along the walls, occupied by a few weary travelers who spoke in low voices or simply rested.
Behind the main counter, a middle-aged woman was organizing a registry book. She had brown hair tied in a practical bun and alert, experienced eyes—experienced enough to recognize the type of guest who walked in every night. When she noticed Natsu approaching, she looked up and gave a professional smile.
"Good evening, sir. Do you need a room?"
"Yes. One room for one night," he replied directly. "Something comfortable, please…"
She quickly assessed his appearance—the white scarf, the relaxed posture—and nodded.
"We have standard rooms and suites. The suites are on the top floor and are the best in terms of comfort and quality."
"I'll take a suite, then."
The woman made a quick note in the book and stated the price.
Natsu didn't argue. He casually took out enough Jewels and placed them on the counter.
"Room thirty-two." She slid a polished metal key across the counter. "Top floor, corridor to the right. The stairs are right there…"
"Thank you."
He thanked her, took the key, and headed in the direction she indicated.
The stairs were wide and well-lit, with sturdy wooden handrails. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly as he climbed, one floor after another, until he reached the upper level. There, movement was practically nonexistent. The long, silent corridor was lined with thick carpeting that muffled any unnecessary noise.
Room thirty-two was at the end of the corridor.
Natsu stopped in front of the door, inserted the key, and turned it. When he pushed the door open, he was greeted by a spacious and well-maintained environment.
The suite was larger than he had expected.
A wide bed occupied the center of the room, covered with crisp, light-colored sheets stretched tight. Thick curtains protected the window that overlooked the northern part of the city, filtering the outside light. A small sofa stood against the opposite wall, accompanied by a low table. There was also a dark wooden wardrobe, a simple writing desk, and an adjustable magical lamp—everything arranged with a level of care that bordered on luxury by the standards he had observed in this city…
The attached bathroom was clean, with magically heated water and crystal stones embedded in the walls to maintain a pleasant temperature.
Natsu closed the door behind him and walked through the suite unhurriedly, driven purely by curiosity. He didn't linger, however; after a few minutes, he turned his attention to the bed.
He threw himself onto the mattress on his back, feeling his body sink slightly, and placed his arms behind his head. His eyes fixed on the plain ceiling, where the soft light from the lamp created almost imperceptible shadows.
His mind quickly turned to what he had just done.
He had just killed four people.
In no way did he feel anything about it—just… it was strange to be so decisive about killing, considering he had never done it before. Not even his predecessor could be used as justification, since he only carbonized enemies without actually taking their lives.
This wasn't "influence" inherited from the old Natsu's memories…
Now that he stopped to think about it, he could pinpoint the reason: his emotional blockage ran far deeper than he had imagined. It wasn't limited to difficulty relating to women; his overall empathetic capacity was well below average. He understood concepts, grasped consequences, but didn't feel the way he was "supposed" to feel. Perhaps, in his previous life, he really should have sought out a psychologist. Not to "fix" anything, but at least to better understand this part of himself that was now revealing itself with such clarity and strangeness.
Well, at least that blockage had proven useful. He had managed to kill without hesitation and knew—with an unsettling clarity—that he would probably do it again if necessary, even if the target wasn't a thug he naturally despised, but simply a circumstantial enemy. The most disturbing thing wasn't the act itself, but the ease with which he accepted that possibility. Although it had happened only once, the idea no longer felt extreme, forbidden, or unthinkable. On the contrary, it was beginning to settle in his mind as something practical, efficient. A tool.
And that was precisely where the silent danger lay: not in the impulse, but in the normalization. Without guilt, without internal conflict, that first killing didn't stand out as a boundary crossed, but as the first step in something that—if left unchecked—could easily become a habit.
After all, murder easily becomes a habit.
That was one of the phrases the famous detective Hercule Poirot left for the world.
The meaning of that phrase didn't refer to someone who killed a human being and suddenly woke up with a predilection for murdering people, repeating the crime to satisfy their desires. It referred to someone who once solved their problems by committing murder and, for that person, whenever another problem arose, they would think of trying to solve it again through murder.
— Murder becomes a habit —
But if killing were truly tied to solving the problem, could it really be said that it was the result of murder having become a habit?
Couldn't one say instead that murder didn't become a habit, but that unavoidable circumstances arose?
The situation wasn't one of adding murder as an option because it had become a habit, but rather one of there being no other option except to kill. Perhaps saying things like "murder had become a habit" was no longer accurate.
He gave an ironic smile. To hell with Hercule Poirot. Fictional detectives don't need to speak so pretentiously.
How could he say that as if he knew everything?! The motives behind each situation, behind everything, are intrinsically linked in countless complications, with multiple layers of complexity. Don't disregard those things and don't trivialize them by trying to apply those words to everything.
This was the only way when there was no other. It was the most logical when there was no other path to the correct answer.
That's why it isn't about murder becoming a habit, but rather…
Only murder solves the issue.
Yes, that's it. Of course it was. That was the only answer. That was the right answer. Only that would break through the despair of a dead-end alley; it was the last resort, but at the same time the most logical.
He allowed himself to imagine for a moment what would have happened if he had been defenseless in that alley.
With no power at all, no real advantage, the outcome would have been simple and predictable. He would have been surrounded, knocked to the ground, his belongings ripped away without ceremony. Perhaps he would have taken a few extra kicks, just because. Perhaps a blade would have gone where it shouldn't—not out of necessity, but out of carelessness, impulse, or amusement. There were no guarantees in that kind of encounter, only probabilities, and in that equation, the chance of walking out alive was never high. He wouldn't be a protagonist; this world wasn't the anime he had watched in his previous life—it was reality, and there would be no miracle. He would have been just another body left in a dark corner of the city…
The thought didn't bring him fear.
It brought clarity.
Because even though he had enough power to resolve the situation without killing, that didn't change the nature of the problem. Those men weren't there by chance. They had chosen that path long before crossing paths with him. They had intent. They had history. They had the willingness to hurt, steal, and—if necessary—kill. If it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. Perhaps someone weaker. Perhaps someone with no choice at all.
He realized then that the question had never been "if" they would kill someone, but "when."
People prone to extreme violence don't need a specific motive; they only need opportunity. Today it would be a robbery. Tomorrow, murder during a robbery. Later, something worse. The world didn't become safer by pretending that wasn't true.
In that context, the alternative of sparing them didn't seem noble or fair. It only seemed like postponing the inevitable and transferring the risk to some random stranger. Someone who wouldn't have power, preparation, or any chance at all.
Eliminating the threat right there wasn't an act of anger or pleasure. It was definitive containment. A permanent solution to a recurring problem. A clean cut to a line that would otherwise only continue extending until it reached someone who didn't deserve to pay that price.
It was uncomfortable to admit, but the conclusion imposed itself naturally: from a practical point of view, it was the most efficient answer. The most logical. Not the prettiest, nor the most morally comfortable—just the one that actually prevented it from happening again.
Because of this "mindset"—shaped both by the thoughts he had after committing a murder and by the opinions he carried from his previous life—he was absolutely certain he would never be friends with Batman or the Justice League. Flawed heroes, bound by moral codes he considered, at the very least, questionable…
Natsu gradually set those thoughts aside.
Not because he had reached a definitive conclusion, but because continuing to spin in mental circles wouldn't change what had already been done. His body relaxed against the soft mattress, his breathing slowed, and the accumulated fatigue from the past few days finally took its toll. The lamp's light dimmed until it was only a gentle glow on the ceiling, and at some point between one incomplete reflection and the next, sleep claimed him without ceremony.
The night passed without dreams worthy of note.
When he woke, the sun had already risen above the horizon, flooding the room with warm light that passed through the thick curtains. Natsu lay there for a few moments, staring at the ceiling once again, simply adjusting to the sensation of existing in this new day.
By now, he no longer felt any strangeness in possessing "Yujiro Hanma's Physical Conditioning." To him, his own body felt perfectly normal, despite the absurd physical attributes inherited from the Ogre and further refined by his own efforts.
He got up, took a quick bath, and changed clothes, keeping the white scarf around his neck as always. Before leaving, he cast one last glance around the room—memorizing the layout out of habit—then closed the door behind him.
Breakfast was served on the ground floor.
The dining hall was busier than the night before, filled with travelers preparing to depart, merchants discussing routes, and local workers enjoying a simple meal before starting their day. The smell of freshly baked bread, dried fruits, and strong coffee dominated the space.
Natsu served himself without haste. Hot bread, eggs, a bit of salted meat, and a dark, bitter drink that did an excellent job of waking anyone up. He ate in silence, observing the constant flow of people coming and going, thinking about how "ordinary life" for most people was so dull.
When he finished, he left the dining hall and walked out of the inn, feeling the morning sun's heat against his face. The streets were already more alive than the night before. Loaded carts headed toward the center, merchants set up improvised stalls, and the distant sound of metal against metal signaled some kind of maintenance underway.
The station was on the eastern side of the city.
It was a sturdy building reinforced with thick stone and metal beams, clearly designed to withstand both the climate and the wear of time. Tracks stretched toward the horizon, cutting through the desert sand like a dark scar. Freight cars were being unloaded while others were prepared for departure, bringing food, water, materials, and taking away the little that Karsel had to offer in exchange.
Without that train, the city would wither in a matter of months.
Natsu bought a ticket for the farthest available destination that day—one that was also the closest to the city where he had a mission to complete. He took the ticket, waited for the boarding call, and boarded when the time came.
The interior of the carriage was simple but functional. Reinforced wooden benches, large windows, and a faint smell of oil and iron in the air. He settled near the window, resting his arm on the backrest as the train began to move with a gentle jolt.
As Karsel fell behind, the arid desert landscape stretched out before his eyes—vast and silent.
The constant swaying of the train gave way to more scattered thoughts.
In a few days, his [Traveler] authority would fully return, and the ability to cross worlds would finally be free to use again. It was something that genuinely excited him, almost made him impatient, but he forced himself to think calmly. There were still things to resolve here.
First, the Magic Games, which would bring all the problems with the Dragons that he knew would inevitably appear. Only then would it make sense to leave. Or perhaps it would be wiser to wait even longer—at least until the end of the Alvarez Empire War. Leaving in the middle of a conflict on that scale seemed… irresponsible, even for someone like him.
While he pondered the timing, his mind inevitably wandered to possible destinations.
He loved DC Comics—that was undeniable. But being honest with himself, in his current lamentable state of power, he would be nothing more than cannon fodder in that universe. Gods, cosmic entities, heroes and villains who toyed with entire realities… it wasn't a place for someone who still needed to grow stronger.
Cultivation worlds, then, were completely out of the question. No way. Absurdly overpowered characters, arrogant young masters, entire sects driven by ego and hypocrisy. The mere idea already gave him a headache. It was true that those worlds had the famous "immortal beauties," something that sparked a certain curiosity, but they definitely weren't worth the mental toll. He knew he would get irritated sooner or later. So that "section" of existence was, for him, permanently discarded.
The world of Nanatsu no Taizai, on the other hand… now that seemed interesting. There, he could obtain a Sacred Treasure, claim the Ten Commandments and the Four Archangels for himself. He could even use his [Subjective Reality] to acquire everything directly, but he wanted something different. A real adventure. A journey with clear objectives, challenges, memorable encounters. Maybe a bit childish, but it seemed fun. Besides, he genuinely wanted to meet the Seven Deadly Sins in person. Perhaps he should go to the sequel that told the story of the Four Knights of the Apocalypse? He admitted that becoming friends with Lancelot and Percival sounded genuinely pleasant. He thought the two of them were… cool. Plain and simple.
Another world that attracted him a great deal was Fate/Grand Order—specifically the Seventh Singularity. Of course, of course… it wasn't because of Ishtar, his favorite Servant and his declared passion from that absurdly complex universe. Definitely not. Cough. I mean… maybe a little. But there was also Ereshkigal. Cough again. That singularity itself was terrifying, chaotic, full of real dangers—the exact kind of setting that offered an intense and memorable adventure.
In the end, he sighed inwardly. Too many options, too little time, and still some pending responsibilities in this world.
Deciding later would be the best course.
After all, traveling between worlds shouldn't be done on impulse, no matter how enormous the temptation.
Natsu closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind come in through the open window and lightly tousle his hair.
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