Haruna's words hung in the air.
"I suggest that you join the Lunar Council, lord Haruto."
"H—HUH?!"
Haruto nearly choked on his breath. "W–wait, what do you mean join? I can't just walk into a council like that. I'm new here. There's no way they'll look at me and go, ah yes, welcome, random adventurer. Especially not if they're as prideful as you say."
But Haruna didn't back down.
"That is precisely why it is the best option we have right now."
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
"Before you pointed it out, I hadn't realized it myself. We don't have anyone we can truly rely on. The forest is either indifferent to us... or hostile. If something happens, no one will come to our aid." Her gaze hardened. "That isolation will be our downfall."
Haruto clenched his jaw. "You're not wrong. But we're not qualified to stand alongside people like that. Takada alone is dangerous—and his chieftain will be stronger still. They won't see us as allies. At best, we'll be seen as expendable."
For once, Haruna had no immediate rebuttal.
She knew Haruto was strong. Stronger than most adventurers she'd met. But even she understood that strength came in layers—and that the ogre chieftain, perhaps even the prince, existed on a level beyond her late master.
Still...
"There is one thing," she said quietly.
Haruto looked at her.
Haruna placed a fist against her chest, her posture straight, resolute. "I believe my master could defeat anyone—given the proper training." Her eyes didn't waver. "And so, I am willing to give you everything he taught me. The sacred sword arts of Lord Kataka's lineage, refined over centuries. I will pass them all to you, my lord."
She bowed deeply.
Silence followed.
Haruto stared at her, stunned—not by the offer itself, but by the weight behind it.
She wasn't bargaining.
She was entrusting him with something irreplaceable.
Why was she so adamant about the council?
What did it mean to her?
...No. That could wait.
Right now, he needed to think.
Haruto closed his eyes and began sorting through everything they had learned so far.
They had escaped the labyrinth—only to learn her master wasn't where they expected. Takada had already searched and found nothing. The man was suspicious, yet powerful. The ogres couldn't be trusted—not fully. The forest itself was caught in a conflict they had blundered into without understanding.
And turning back wasn't an option.
The council.
Haruna wanted him there badly—enough to stake her master's legacy on it.
There had to be a reason.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
If he joined, he'd need to be strong enough to be acknowledged—and cautious enough to survive. Best case, they were accepted. Worst case, they were used and discarded. And if that happened, he'd be surrounded by enemies while constantly suppressing his guard.
Without full Astron reserves, his strongest technique—the pseudo-singularity—was unusable. Brute force survival was off the table.
But staying unaffiliated wasn't safer.
Out in the open, they were vulnerable to everyone. And after killing members of the crimson battalion, it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for him.
Choosing a side—any side—was better than standing alone.
Haruto opened his eyes.
"It's decided."
All three of them turned toward him.
The tension in the air sharpened as they waited for his answer.
He straightened his posture before answering, his voice steady despite the weight behind it.
"...We'll join the council. But only for our own survival. I'm not a hero—and neither are you. We're just trying to live. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we do."
For a moment, Haruna simply stared at him. Then her eyes lit up, and she bowed deeply.
"Yes. I understand, my lord. I will follow your will—no matter what."
Hana and Haruki exchanged a glance.
They... didn't really have a choice, did they?
Honestly, though, they'd been expecting this outcome. From the moment Haruna brought up the council, it was obvious Haruto would come to this decision sooner or later.
"Yup. Might as well pick a side instead of getting dogpiled by both," Hana said lazily, stretching her arms. "We're not strong enough to survive a full-on attack from those ants yet, so this is the smarter move."
Haruto nodded in silence.
"Alright then. We head out tomorrow morning." Hana stood and started toward the exit of the tree-cave. "Get some rest. I'm gonna grab some trees for the fire."
"Wait—don't go alone," Haruto said quickly, his instincts flaring. "We don't know what's out there—"
"C'mon, dude." Hana shot him a grin. "Did you forget? I'm crazy strong now. I'll be fine."
She waved him off and stepped into the forest without another word.
"...Be careful," he called after her.
She didn't answer—just smirked over her shoulder before disappearing into the snow-covered trees.
Haruki shivered, hugging herself. "Ugh... I really can't like this body anymore..."
"Hey, don't say that," Haruto said gently. "You got a blessing compared to the two of us. I can't even feel pain anymore. Sounds nice, but... it's not."
"I know, but..." Haruki hesitated. "I thought picking this cool robotic race would be awesome. Turns out it's just... disappointing. I couldn't do anything on my own. It's not fair."
"At least you had a choice," Haruto replied, ruffling her hair lightly. "I didn't. I still don't even know what I am."
Then, quieter, he added, "You know... you look a lot like Mom now."
Haruki froze. "Really?"
"Yeah. You probably don't remember, but she had short white hair—about thirteen years ago. She dyed it after Dad passed away." He smiled faintly. "I remember. I've seen the pictures. You really do look like her."
"Oh..." Haruki didn't know how to respond.
Guess this body... isn't that bad after all, she thought.
Haruto, meanwhile, sank into thought.
Memories of his mother surfaced—lessons she never realized she was teaching. The way she pushed him to keep writing, to keep thinking, to keep questioning the world. What started as a job done for love had now become the very foundation of their survival.
Her legacy.
Understanding.
Knowledge.
And now—trial.
That dungeon had only been the beginning. Worse battles awaited. Deadlier ones.
Mom... are you watching?
I'm learning. I'm protecting them.
And this time...
That will never be a lie. I swear it—on the name you gave me.
With that resolve etched into his mind, Haruto stood and walked toward the exit.
Then he stopped.
Turning back slightly, he called out, "Haruna. Take care of Haruki for me. I'll be back soon. There's something I need to handle."
Haruna stood at once, placing a fist to her chest. "Understood."
Haruto disappeared into the forest—heading in the opposite direction from Hana.
Left behind, Haruki and Haruna remained alone.
The slimes quickly gathered around Haruki, piling onto her to keep her warm. As they settled, Haruki noticed Haruna trembling faintly.
"...Hey," she said bluntly. "You're cold, aren't you? Come here. Sit."
"Uh—n-no, my lady, I—"
"Don't give me that crap," Haruki cut in. "We're basically sisters now. I'm not letting you get frostbite."
"S–sisters?" Haruna echoed, confused.
"Yeah. Why do you think he named you like that? Haruki, Haruna—see?" She smirked. "I don't know if he meant it that way or not, but either way, you're my sister now. Just call me Haruki. And Hana wouldn't like all that 'lady' stuff either."
Haruna hesitated... then quietly sat down beside her.
The slimes adjusted themselves, surrounding Haruna just enough to share their warmth without harming her.
It was comforting.
Haruna relaxed without realizing it, her expression softening.
Haruki chuckled, grabbing her favorite slime and hugging it like a plush toy.
Watching this, Haruna rested a hand on her sword, holding it close.
A sword instead of a stuffed animal... Haruki thought, smiling awkwardly to herself. Man. Am I really that spoiled?
And for a brief moment, in the middle of a frozen forest filled with danger—
Everything was calm.
---
As the stars shimmered around the radiant moon, a gentle, cold breeze swept through the forest—soft and steady, like a god's quiet exhale.
This was their first day beneath both daylight and nightfall in this new world.
And how ironic it was that Haruto and Hana were gazing at the same moon at this very moment.
Two different places.
Two different people.
Two different thoughts at play.
Two different purposes.
Yet in the end… they were still under the same sky.
As always.
As it always should be.
---
At a high point along the mountainside, Haruto sat upon a rocky ledge that offered an unobstructed view of the heavens.
Stars.
Galaxies.
Endless clusters of light—clearly visible, untouched by light pollution.
A sight most people could only dream of witnessing.
Including someone like him.
An ultimate shut-in.
And yet, here he was—standing in a world of fantasy, finally allowed to see the raw, overwhelming beauty the universe had always held. Even for someone who once shut himself away from the world, the night sky was impossible to ignore. A silent reminder that wonder existed everywhere, waiting patiently to be seen.
Haruto smiled faintly as an old memory resurfaced.
Years ago, there were nights when the three of them—Haruto, Haruki, and their mother—would climb up to the rooftop, lie side by side, and simply watch the stars in silence.
One of those nights stood out more than the others.
It had been a terrible day for him.
He had erased an entire story he'd poured his heart into—rewriting it from scratch after noticing its flaws. It was necessary for improvement. He knew that now.
But back then, it hurt.
Especially when the story had gained no recognition at all.
Except from bots.
Throwing away something you loved—something you believed in—left a hollow ache behind.
He felt defeated.
Lost.
"What did I do wrong?"
He couldn't understand.
Looking back now, he could clearly see his growth. And the reason he kept going after that day was probably because of what his mother told him beneath that same star-filled sky.
"The universe is cruel," she had said quietly. "Most stars die without ever being noticed. But that doesn't make their light meaningless."
She pointed upward.
"Find your place in this vast night. If there's something you want to protect, then that's where you belong. And that's where your light will burn."
He remembered every word.
To this day.
"So… I found it," Haruto murmured, lifting his hand toward the sky.
"…I found the very place I belong to."
He closed his fingers slowly, as if grasping the moon itself.
His eyes gleamed—sharp, radiant blue.
In the next instant, the world changed.
Time slowed within his perception.
"…Power, huh?" he muttered. "Power really is the only form of recognition in this world. The only path to survival."
Wherever his gaze landed, information unfolded—layer by layer—like pages turning in an invisible book.
Particles.
Cells.
Atoms.
One glance was enough.
Seeing things under a microscope was nothing like this. This was as if a supreme-grade lens had been carved directly into his eyes, paired with a vast library that fed knowledge straight into his mind. There were no words to read—everything was simply understood.
Analysis.
A skill infamous for being absurdly overpowered in any reality.
Haruto wasn't surprised.
Given his nature as a magic theorist, this was exactly the kind of ability he had expected.
And yet—
"It's irritating," he muttered, clenching his fist. "I can clearly see this isn't its full potential… but I can't feel anything that gives me a lead on how to reach it."
Just like Devouring.
"…But this should be enough for now," he added quietly. "I hope."
His gaze shifted to his tightly bandaged right arm.
"I didn't even get the chance to figure out what you really are," he said, patting the layered cloth. "But there's no way you'll be able to hide from me forever."
He paused.
"…I'll give you more food later. For now, could you settle down for the night? I've got some things to take care of."
For a split second, the bandages pulsed with a faint purple light—as if responding.
"Thanks—Ah—!"
His heartbeat spiked.
Energy surged through his body like a tidal wave.
Astrons flooded his system, circulating at an overwhelming speed. His reserves recovered thousands of times faster than before.
This—
This was his original recovery rate.
In mere minutes, his energy climbed to nearly a quarter of full capacity.
The reason it hadn't worked before was obvious now.
Whatever was wrapped around his arm… was devouring it all.
From what little he'd seen earlier, it was a sword.
An ancient one.
A classic trope straight out of countless stories.
And as expected—he wasn't wrong.
The sword was consuming his Astrons at a terrifying rate, far beyond what his natural recovery could sustain. That imbalance was the reason his regeneration had felt so sluggish.
Now, with Analysis active, he could finally grasp part of the truth.
It had its own consciousness.
And it understood him.
He temporarily suppressed its hunger—but that wasn't a solution.
His gaze lifted toward the atmosphere around him.
"…Could that work?" he wondered. "I've seen it happen in plenty of stories."
Astrons filled the air.
In theory… it should be possible.
And if it worked—
He had plenty of things he wanted to test while this moment of heightened power lasted.
A confident grin spread across his face as his eyes shone bright blue.
With precise analysis, he traced matter down to the atomic level—purely because he could—and then, guided by instinct, manipulated it with flawless control.
The Astrons flowed toward him.
His body absorbed them naturally, weaving the energy into his streams. The loss was minimal—proof that the method was reliable to a reasonable extent.
So this was it.
This was the turning point.
This would change everything.
Absolutely.
As Haruto glanced up at the moon once more—now wearing a smirk shaped by absolute confidence—the cold night wind carried the scene far away, to an entirely different place.
---
On another side of the great forest, beneath that very same moon, its pale glow shone like a universal beacon—marking time, direction… and offering momentary peace.
A campfire crackled in the middle of a small clearing within the snowy taiga. Flames danced high, fighting back the cold as a group of adventurers gathered around it in high spirits. Suspended above the fire were thick slabs of Sabertusk meat, slowly roasting—fat sizzling, aroma spreading deep into the trees.
It didn't take long before hunger won.
The feast began without ceremony.
Rough hands carved the meat into uneven cuts, some skewered and held directly over the fire, others dropped into iron pots to simmer into thick, hearty soup. Crushed herbs, salt, and coarse pepper were tossed in without measurement—seasoned by instinct rather than recipe. Root vegetables followed soon after, filling the broth with warmth and color.
Laughter rang out as wooden mugs were filled to the brim.
High-grade beer barrels—prized even in noble circles—were cracked open without hesitation. Alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues and shoulders alike. Someone attempted to fry meat directly on a flat stone. Another argued that skewers tasted better if the fat was allowed to drip into the flames first. Someone else swore the soup needed more salt—and dumped an entire handful in.
No one complained.
It was loud. Messy. Alive.
Yet away from the noise, beyond the firelight—
Prince Rudra approached quietly, carrying two wooden bowls filled with steaming soup.
Velnard stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes lifted toward the moon as though it were the sky itself watching him in return. In his hands rested a golden rapier, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. His fingers traced the blade absently, nostalgia softening his expression into something rare.
A genuine smile.
"Uncle," Rudra said, breaking the silence. "Aren't you going to eat? Sir Dreuo said you used to love this stuff back when you were an adventurer."
He sat beside him and offered one of the bowls.
"…Here."
Velnard set his weapon aside and accepted it.
He inhaled deeply, letting the aroma pull him back years—decades—into the past.
"I did," he said lightly. "But I don't think you will. It's… a bit tough to chew."
He fished out a chunk of meat with his spoon, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"I'm not some delicate flower," Rudra shot back, scooping up a spoonful of soup and a piece of meat soaked in it.
The soup was rich. Comforting.
The meat, however—
The moment he started chewing, his confidence evaporated.
"Oh?" Velnard tilted his head. "Don't tell me you're struggling already~"
Rudra fought the meat with all the dignity he could muster. It took far longer than he wanted—but he swallowed it in the end, face visibly strained.
Velnard chuckled and patted his head.
"I warned you. Adventuring isn't anything like royal lessons. Still… when you become king, experiences like this will matter more than you think. Don't take it too hard."
"King…" Rudra muttered, gaze dropping to the ground.
Velnard followed his eyes, already understanding.
"You feel like you're stealing the throne from your sister, don't you?"
"…Mhmm."
The duke smiled faintly, memories stirring.
"I was just like you once. Except I was reckless—and had a terrible reputation. That's why I was shocked when the sacred spirit chose me over my elder sister."
Rudra looked up sharply.
"B-but you're strong. Isn't that what mattered?"
"Strength matters," Velnard replied. "But it's never the whole picture. Back then, my sister surpassed me in nearly every way." He paused, voice lowering. "The real reason was… complicated. And painful."
He exhaled slowly.
"Nethra already has what it takes to lead. But every time danger rises, her life force collapses. A queen bound to a bed cannot protect her people."
Rudra clenched his hands.
"I'm still not qualified."
"Qualification isn't given," Velnard said gently. "It's earned. Your father did it. Why can't you start from zero too?"
"I… I guess you're right, but—"
"Yo, kid!" Dreuo shouted from the fire. "Skewers are almost gone!"
Rudra shot to his feet.
"Wait! I want to try!"
Velnard watched him run back toward the fire, the conversation unfinished—but not meaningless.
He raised his bowl again.
And then—
"Argh—!"
The sound cut through the clearing like a blade.
Velnard turned instantly.
Rudra lay sprawled on the snow, body limp, bowl shattered beside him. His eyes were rolled back, breath shallow—unconscious.
The laughter died.
The fire crackled.
And for the first time that night, the moonlight felt cold.
...