The tavern smelled of sour ale, damp cedar, and the faint iron bite of old blood that no amount of scrubbing ever quite removed from the floorboards.
Lanterns swung gently on blackened chains, throwing pools of amber light across scarred tables and the faces of weary adventurers.
Ed sat at the far end of the long oak bench, shoulders rounded, one hand curled loosely around a tankard he hadn't lifted in nearly half an hour.
Across from him, Kyle—the Hero, the golden prince, the man everyone believed would end the age of demons—leaned forward on his elbows.
The posture should have looked casual. It didn't. The weight in his voice made the air feel thinner.
"Ed," he said quietly, "you don't need to come in starting tomorrow."
The words landed like a dropped coin in deep water—small, almost polite, yet they rippled outward until everything else in the room blurred at the edges.
Ed blinked once. Twice.
His fingers tightened on the tankard until the clay gave a faint, protesting creak.
For one suspended heartbeat the tavern noise—the clink of mugs, Mira's soft laugh at something Jyn muttered, the low crackle of the hearth—simply vanished.
Then reality rushed back in.
He forced the corners of his mouth upward into the familiar, practiced shape.
"I see."
His voice came out steady, almost cheerful.
"So tomorrow's a day off, right? Finally get to sleep in."
Jyn barked a short, angry laugh that held no humor.
"Are you an idiot? He didn't say tomorrow. He said starting tomorrow. As in—we don't need you anymore."
The smile froze on Ed's face like frost on glass.
He felt the pull at the corners of his mouth turn brittle, ready to crack.
Somewhere deep inside his skull, something ancient and patient uncoiled.
Conditions confirmed.
The voice was calm, mechanical, almost affectionate.
Ten minutes until return.
His heart lurched—not with fear, but with something bright and dangerous that tasted dangerously close to joy.
Ed lifted his gaze slowly.
Kyle's eyes were steady, regretful but unyielding.
Mira looked away, tracing invisible patterns on the table with one fingertip.
Jyn's arms were folded tight across his chest, jaw set like he expected a fight.
"Come on," Ed said.
He kept his tone light, teasing, the way he always did when the air grew too heavy.
"You must be really drunk to joke about something like this. Kyle, you hate ale. You're not even tipsy."
Kyle didn't smile.
"It's not sudden. We've discussed it several times when you weren't around. This is a decision from all of us."
The room tilted.
Ed's pulse hammered against his eardrums.
He scanned their faces again—searching, pleading, for the flicker of a lie, a hesitation, anything that would let him pretend this was still a game.
"A decision from all of you?"
His voice cracked on the final word, betraying him.
He swallowed hard and tried again.
"Wait—didn't we promise to defeat the Demon Lord together? Lord Hero… you're joking, right?"
Kyle's expression never wavered.
"No. This time I'm serious."
Ed felt the floor drop away beneath him.
He lowered his eyes to the table, staring at the rings left by a hundred spilled drinks, trying to anchor himself.
Kyle continued, softer now, almost gentle.
"Listen, Ed. You truly are talented. That's why I invited you to join us. Everyone welcomed you. For a long while after you arrived, you were a huge help. You taught us so much—logistics, shortcuts, how to stretch supplies when the road turned cruel. We needed that."
Ed opened his mouth to speak, hope flaring briefly.
"But look at what you've become lately," Kyle said.
The hope guttered out.
"Slacking on assigned work. Going through the motions in training. While the rest of us are constantly searching for ways to grow stronger—for the battles still ahead—you've stayed exactly where you were the day you joined. Even so…" Kyle's voice roughened.
"We waited. We believed you'd find your fire again. But patience has limits."
Ed's head bowed.
Hair fell across his eyes, hiding the way they burned.
"I see," he whispered.
Kyle exhaled.
"Yes, Ed. You've been expelled from the hero's party."
The words struck like a physical blow.
The air in the tavern thickened; even the fire seemed to dim.
Mira's shoulders hunched.
Jyn looked away.
Everyone waited for the collapse—for tears, anger, begging.
The script was familiar. They'd seen it before with others who hadn't lasted.
Instead, a slow, mysterious smile curved Ed's lips.
At the same moment, the voice returned—clearer now, almost amused.
Ten minutes remaining.
Ed could no longer hold back the joy that had been clawing at the back of his throat for a year and a half.
He straightened.
The smile widened.
"I finally don't have to pretend anymore."
The words hung in the stunned silence.
Mira blinked rapidly.
"Ed…?"
Jyn frowned.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Did getting kicked out finally break your brain?"
Ed laughed—quiet, bright, almost giddy.
"No, no. I'm perfectly fine. I'm just… thrilled. My mission is finally complete."
He stood, chair scraping back.
"Oh—before I go, could you accept these?"
A ripple of darkness shimmered in the air before him.
A small stack of neatly bound books materialized, hovering for a heartbeat before settling onto the table with soft thuds.
Mira stared, mouth falling open.
"Wait—that thing—is it—?"
"You guessed right," Ed said cheerfully.
"These are the guidebooks I prepared for each of you."
Mira's hand flew to her chest.
"I'm not talking about the books! That was… dimensional storage? You've had dimensional storage this whole time?!"
Ed shrugged one shoulder.
"Rather than worrying about trivial skills, you should read the guides first. They're based on every scrap of combat data I've collected from watching you all. Efficient training regimens tailored to each of you. New skill paths. Growth routes. Whatever direction you choose, there's guidance inside."
Mira flipped open the top book with trembling fingers.
Her eyes widened.
"This… this lists spells I've never even heard of."
"Ones you'll naturally learn if you progress smoothly," Ed said.
"Details are in the appendix. Look when you need them."
Jyn snatched the next volume, flipping to a folded map that unfolded impossibly large across the table.
"What in the—how did you make a map this precise? Hidden paths even I never noticed. Every trap marked. Every weak point in dungeon layouts."
Ed's smile turned a shade wry.
"Having been there helps. Of course, I can only map places I've walked."
"How did you make them?" Jyn pressed.
"Technical details are a secret."
Ed's tone was light, almost playful.
"After all—I'm no longer part of the hero's party."
Kyle finally moved.
He stood, bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching the table.
"I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't know how much work you were doing behind our backs. Please… forgive my blindness."
Mira rose too, bowing awkwardly.
"I'm sorry. Hard work that accumulates quietly doesn't need to be shown—but I didn't understand. I still wanted to expel you."
Jyn rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.
"Yeah… sorry, man."
Ed waved both hands quickly.
"Don't. Please. That's not why I did any of it. I just thought—if I'm gone, at least I can leave something that helps the people who took care of me for a while."
Kyle straightened, eyes shining.
"You fool. We're taking it all back. The expulsion is canceled. Not one of us would object."
Mira nodded fiercely.
"Ed—please forgive us. Stay."
Ed's expression softened.
For a moment he looked genuinely touched.
Then he shook his head.
"Lord Hero… that won't work. I can't. I'm sorry."
The words landed like ice water.
Kyle's face fell.
"Yeah… we already cast you out, and now we want you back. Shameless."
Ed laughed again—gentler this time.
"Actually, that's not what I meant. Anyway…"
He stepped back toward the door.
"I look forward to the day you all defeat the Demon Lord."
Before anyone could speak again, he turned and walked out into the night.
Behind him, the voice returned.
Ten seconds remaining.
Ed broke into a run.