~ Third Person POV ~

Lennon woke up, eyes slowly filtering in the light coming from the open window. He looked left and right, taking in the scene of his fellow teammates resting after the brush with death inside that beast dungeon.

“Len, you awake?”

Lying on another bed beside his, Kayla looked at him with concern evident in her eyes. Still groggy from just waking up, Lennon shook his head a bit to clear his mind from the dizziness.

“Yeah, just peachy,” Lennon replied while looking at a sling that hung around his arm that got smashed by the black beast in the dungeon.

“I suggest you don’t move that arm for the next few days,” Merethyl, the party’s healer stated while holding a sheet of paper. “That monster nearly made your entire arm permanently useless, and we don’t have the funds to properly treat everyone here.”

One quick look at Grurnuir told Lennon everything about the situation. He was still in the aftereffects of his defense trump card, [Last Line]. It basically negates one incoming attack, no matter what it was, in exchange for feeling triple the pain and impact.

“I’ll have to treat him to a drink for saving Kayla,” Lennon said as he looked at Grurnuir’s passed out body with gratitude lying on the bed a few meters away from his. “Anyway, how’re you doin’ Kay?”

“Honestly, my stomach still hurts,” she replied as she rubbed her stomach, wincing a bit at the sudden pain just from touching it.

“… How about everyone else?”

“If we’re talking who took the most damage, it would be Grurnuir, followed by you,” Sogtharoch said calmly as he ate in peace at the corner in the room.

“Technically, he’s wrong, seeing as you’re the one who received that huge blow and nearly lost your arm,” Merethyl replied as she glanced at Sogthatoch beneath her glasses before continuing, “while Grurnuir, on the other hand received no physical damage whatsoever. Mentally though, that’s another problem, which unfortunately, is not my forte.”

“That’s why I’m tellin’ ya Grurnuir is the one most damaged,” Sogtharoch responded as he bit into a juicy, chicken leg. “All this time, and you still sometimes forget that my main spells revolve around [Mental Magic].”

“Lennon will be fine, give him a couple ‘o days. Grurnuir however…” Sogtharoch grimly continued as he slowly dropped the now only bone chicken leg to the plate. “You can’t heal mental wounds, Mereth. The last time I saw someone using [Last Line] was back during the war, poor guy used it against a [Division] class magic. The division survived, he however…”

Merethyl stayed silent upon coming at the conclusion of the horrendous side-effect of one of the strongest defense skills ever to be seen in the entire continent.

“I don’t blame ya, you’re young,” Sogtharoch said as he sipped some water from a cup. “Live long enough like me, then you’ll learn a lot of things about the world… and just how cruel it is…”

Sogtharoch muttered that last bit, not a single soul being able to hear it. He then grabbed the plate and cup and headed outside the room, gently closing the door with his tail.

“Also, forgot to say this, tell Mariona to stop humping her pillow at night… It’s disturbing,” with his piece said, Sogtharoch left, leaving a room full of Hunters stunned into silence. Moments later, Mariona, who was feigning sleep in her bed got up, her face beet red. She then proceeded to march towards the door, ignoring her current state of dress. On the way to the door, she plucked a dagger from the equipment box, then began to chase the demon who left.

“SOGTHAROCH YOU DRIED UP EXCUSE OF A WAR VETERAN! COME HERE AND TAKE YOUR DEATH LIKE A FUCKING MAN!” she screamed out as she chased after the old demon. Merethyl recovered first and sighed, while the others who were awake, a.k.a. Lennon and Kayla, chuckled to themselves, relieved that the heavy atmosphere surrounding the group was gone.

“By the way, where’s the pay?”

[][][][][][][][][][][][][]

The Kingdom of Arcelon, home to the largest army of knights, homeland of the S-rank Hunter who roams the continent in search of something precious to her, as well as where the headquarters of the International Magic Institution was built at.

The king of this marvelous kingdom, who was named Macroceaus XV, was an upstanding person, upholding the values of his people, doing his best for the kingdom, and a loving family guy.

Now however, those admirable traits of his were discarded, and what was left of Macroceaus was a serious, focused, and ruthless being, willing to do anything just to get out of his… unfortunate predicament.

“Your Majesty, King Arcelon, I assume that you have accepted our terms?” the person sitting in front of him, a man of high standing from a neighboring country, asked politely, a smile plastered on his face. Macroceaus knew that the smile was fake, his cold, calculating gaze the very proof of his hostility. However, Macroceaus could do nothing to apprehend the obvious disrespect towards the crown.

No, he could not, for if he did, another war would break out, one which he didn’t want happening. That time of the decade was approaching, his lands in the brink of a civil war due to stupid nobles being arrogant asshats, as well as his family, his own flesh and blood, fighting for the throne that he would soon relinquish due to old age.

It was no wonder why the capital reeks of rot and decay. Too much corruption was within its borders, and Macroceaus could do nothing to stop it, his authority as king useless in the current situation.

“Indeed, I have,” Macroceaus responded without dropping his poker face. He must not show weakness in front of the enemy.

“Then it’s settled,” the noble placed down a roll of high-quality paper, and a fountain pen. “All I need is your signature and this alliance will be well and established.”

The King didn’t hesitate, signing the documents without any expression. Once the signing was done, the noble left the Macroceaus to contemplate on his… incredibly horrible decision…

“Alyssa, forgive your father, for I have failed you.”

[][][][][][][][][][][][][]

“Big news! Arcelon’s 2nd princess is getting married to the Slakaston Empire’s crown prince! Future possible alliance with the Slakaston Empire?”

That was the title written on the headlines of all televisions connected to the Kingdom’s broadcast. It depicted an image of a happy, young and beautiful, blonde-haired girl, accompanied by a red-haired teen prince charming with tan skin.

“… This country’s going to hell,” a certain hooded figure muttered as they sipped casually on his drink. “A possible civil war, an incoming monster surge, and now this farce… How the royals have fallen… Idiots, the lot of them…”

The hooded figure then got up and left a generous tip at the table.

“Now, where the hell was that store again?”