On the grass in front of the cabin, the crack of wood striking shield tore open the morning silence.
What had once been a lush patch of green had been ruined by days of brutal training—churned into a wasteland of exposed sand and stone. The ground itself looked like it had been punished.
The oak shield shattered again under Zald's club.
The impact didn't just pulverize the shield—it launched Duncan flying. The shock drove straight into his right arm, and sensation vanished instantly.
But his left hand and legs still worked.
The moment he hit the ground, Duncan forced himself up, then threw his body into a sideways roll. A heartbeat later, Zald's next strike slammed down exactly where Duncan had been lying.
According to Zald, this was the whole point: to hammer the habit of getting up immediately into Duncan's bones.
In real combat, staying down meant dying. Whether facing humans or monsters, if Duncan failed to move within Zald's time limit, the club would come hunting.
Half a month had passed since the first session.
Duncan had gone from being dropped with one hit… to his current state: scrambling, weaving, barely surviving through sheer stubbornness.
Of course, this only looked possible because Zald was "going easy."
Even as a heavy warrior, even if his agility wasn't his specialty, the gulf between a Lv.7 and a Lv.1 wasn't something stats could bridge. It was a different species of strength.
And Zald had pushed his control to the limit—so far that he shattered shields without smashing Duncan's arm.
Even with Falna reinforcement, a ten-year-old's arm was far more fragile than a shield. Breaking the shield without breaking the arm required terrifying precision.
Duncan wiped sweat and grit from his eyes, then glanced at the seven new drag marks carved into the ground today.
Each one recorded a different way he'd been slammed down.
The first: flat on his back.
The second: face-first like a dog eating dirt.
The rest? A blur. There was no time to remember—only time to move.
His mind held only one command: dodge.
If he couldn't dodge, then he blocked.
His left hand never let go of the iron sword, but there was never a window to counterattack. Instead, the blade took punishment alongside the shield—cracked, chipped, scarred with ugly notches.
The "best iron sword in the village" was now close to scrap.
Even so, Duncan never released it.
A weapon was life.
If you didn't want to die, then you held your weapon until the moment you did.
That was the first thing Zald had drilled into him.
From the porch railing, Bell watched with anxious eyes.
"Alfia-mama… why is Duncan-brother trying so hard?"
"For survival," Alfia answered flatly.
Bell's gaze drooped. "But Grandpa never lets me become an adventurer."
Alfia pointed at Duncan, battered and dragged across the field.
"You're afraid of being hurt like that. Why do you still want to be an adventurer?"
Bell's eyes lit up with pure admiration.
"Because if I become an adventurer, I can be strong like you, Alfia-mama, and Uncle Zald, right?"
Alfia's voice hardened.
"It's not that easy. Adventurers are filthy, worn-down people who live with danger every day. One moment they look glorious… the next they're dead in the Dungeon, unclaimed, like a rag thrown away."
Her heart twitched.
For an instant, the image of her younger sister—Bell's mother, Meteria—flickered through her mind. Frail, fragile… yet always longing to become an adventurer.
If not for Alfia—
Her thoughts cut off.
Alfia's eyes snapped open. She stood, staring toward a figure approaching in the distance.
Zald also stopped mid-motion, turning toward the same direction.
Even Zeus came out of the cabin, visibly annoyed, glaring at the cloaked newcomer as if he already knew who it was.
"Your guest?" Alfia asked without looking back.
In a place like this, with someone coming straight for the cabin, "lost traveler" was a joke.
"An irritating guy," Zeus muttered, pulling his hat low. "I don't want anything to do with him. He's probably here for you two."
"Us?" Alfia frowned.
It had taken her and Zald real effort to find Zeus's hideout. They'd only been here half a month—yet someone else had already arrived.
That didn't feel like coincidence.
"Whatever," Zeus said irritably. "I'm going inside. If he asks about me, tell him I'm not here."
He marched back into the cabin, despite the fact he'd already shown his face.
Zald moved to Alfia's side.
"Looking for the old man?"
He could tell at a glance: the newcomer looked like an ordinary man, but his aura made it clear—this was a god.
"Zeus says he's here for us," Alfia replied. "Did you notice anyone tailing you?"
"No," Zald said. "But I can't rule it out. We made plenty of noise finding Zeus."
The cloaked figure reached them, made no attempt to hide anything, and calmly pulled down his hood.
He smiled.
Then his gaze slid past them—toward Bell behind Alfia, and Duncan lying in the distance—and a faint trace of confusion flashed in his eyes.
"I heard traces of a 'Tyrant' here… and I didn't expect even the 'Silence' to be present," the god said, almost pleased. "Looks like Heaven gave me a very good start."
Zald's expression tightened.
"…Lord Erebus? Why are you here?"
Erebus—the Underworld god.
Powerful in myth, powerful in Familia influence, and notoriously difficult to read. Not a clean "light" god like Astraea—yet not officially labeled by the Guild as part of the Evilus either, despite rumors that his people brushed close to darkness.
Erebus gestured toward the cabin.
"I'm not here to fight. I came to talk. About the Lower World's hope—and its future. In the name of Erebus, I'm here to request help from 'Gluttony' and 'Silence.'"
He nodded slightly as if concluding a calculation.
"Since Zeus went inside, he doesn't intend to stop me."
Alfia was silent for a moment, then she gently patted Bell's head.
"Bell. Go check Duncan's injuries."
"Okay, Alfia-mama!"
Bell dashed off toward the field.
Erebus stared at Alfia like he'd just been struck by divine lightning.
"…Mama?"
His composure shattered.
"Mama?! You had a child?!"
The "Silent Witch" Alfia—considered by many to be the strongest after the great 'Hero' and 'Empress'—had a child in secret?
To Erebus, that was somehow more unbelievable than whatever apocalyptic proposal he'd come to discuss.
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