The Iron Fang Guild returned to the settlement, their bodies weary but their spirits high. Their first Grade E Dungeon had tested them, pushed them beyond what they thought possible, but they had emerged stronger for it.

  Some members immediately sought out traders and auctioneers, eager to sell their dungeon loot—rare monster materials, enchanted gear, and alchemical ingredients. Others simply shared their experiences, gathering in small groups to discuss the drastic difference between Grade F and Grade E dungeons.

  It was no longer just about fighting monsters—it was about strategy, endurance, and survival.

  They had barely scraped by.

  And they knew the dungeons would only get harder from here.

  The crowd listened in rapt attention, hanging onto every word. Some were eager to test their strength, while others, shaken by the difficulty, realized how unprepared they truly were.

  Reinhardt, as guild leader, found himself seated among the other faction leaders, recounting every detail of their dungeon run.

  The difficulties. The challenges. The moments they almost didn’t make it back.

  And, of course—

  Jin Saito.

  Reinhardt didn’t hold back when he spoke about Jin’s impact on the mission.

  "If not for Jin," he said plainly, "half my team wouldn’t have made it out alive."

  Silence settled over the room as every leader took in his words.

  Tarek Vol, leader of the Ghostwalkers, leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. His cold, calculating eyes sharpened as he finally spoke.

  "His capabilities," he mused, "they’re truly that extraordinary?"

  Reinhardt nodded. "You’ve all heard the rumors, but I saw it firsthand. His timing, his precision, his control—he knew exactly when to strike and when to hold back. It’s like he’s been fighting in this world for years, not weeks."

  Tarek’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  "And yet," he continued, voice smooth but probing, "no one knows his Force Alignment. He doesn’t wield weapons often. He fights with pure technique. No obvious energy surges. No signs of external buffs."

  He tilted his head.

  "Don’t you find that… strange?"

  Reinhardt exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly.

  He already knew where this was going.

  "You’re asking the wrong person," Reinhardt replied evenly. "Jin’s secrets aren’t mine to tell. If you want answers, you’ll have to ask him yourself."

  Tarek smirked. "Oh, I intend to."

  The meeting continued, but the tone had shifted.

  With two Apex Bosses slain and dungeons being conquered, it was clear—

  The Expanse was changing.

  And those who couldn’t keep up would be left behind.

  A murmur spread through the gathered leaders. Some nodded in understanding, while others exchanged skeptical glances.

  The meeting continued, shifting toward plans for the future—strategies for survival, expanding the settlement, and further dungeon exploration.

  But one thing was clear: Jin Saito’s presence loomed over the entire discussion.

  "Are you sure you saw them here?"

  Kaito Ren’s sharp gaze swept across the clearing as he questioned his companion, who stood beside him, shifting uncomfortably.

  "I’m certain," his friend replied, pointing toward the brush ahead. "I saw Hares in this area, and over there—some kind of goat-like creatures." He paused, then frowned. "Why are you so obsessed with hunting them down?"

  Kaito smirked, unsheathing his short sword.

  "Just something I need," he said simply. "A powerful item. Something that'll make questing, dungeon diving, and survival a whole lot easier."

  He didn’t explain further.

  Instead—he moved.

  With swift, silent efficiency, his blade carved through the creatures. Hares and wild goats alike fell before they even sensed danger, their fur and wool stripped just as quickly as their lives ended.

  A few creatures managed to land counterattacks, leaving bruises and shallow cuts along his arms, but he ignored them.

  The hunt didn’t stop until he had gathered all that he needed.

  By the time he returned to the community, his arms were full of fur and wool. He handed the meat off to the cooks—providing food for the settlement—before making his way to a familiar stall.

  The vendor behind it barely reacted to his approach, lazily yawning, her posture slouched over the counter.

  Kaito smirked, dropping the bundles of fur in front of her.

  "That should be enough for the comfortable clothes you wanted, right?"

  The woman cracked open one unimpressed eye.

  "Your head really isn’t the brightest, is it?" she muttered, voice sluggish with boredom.

  Kaito blinked. "Huh?"

  Stretching her arms with an exaggerated sigh, she deadpanned, "What exactly am I supposed to do with all this? I don’t make clothes."

  A long silence followed.

  Kaito grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Oh."

  The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Oh."

  He let out an awkward chuckle, shifting on his feet. "Uh… maybe we can find someone who does?"

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  She stared at him blankly, then closed her eyes and dropped her head back onto the counter.

  "There’s no 'we' in this," she muttered. "Just you. Good luck. You know where to find me when you’re done."

  With that, she promptly went back to sleep.

  Kaito sighed, staring at the bundles of fur in frustration.

  "...Guess I should’ve asked first."

  Refusing to back down despite his awkward demeanor, Kaito pressed on. “You know, if you ever need help with a quest, dungeon, or just some exp farming, I’m always here. Think of it as a down payment,” he added with a nervous laugh.

  The stall owner stretched lazily, adjusting her tilted glasses as she stood up. “Meh, why not,” she muttered before turning away.

  Kaito blinked. “Wait… really?” His voice carried a mix of surprise and cautious excitement.

  “You’re not completely useless, I suppose,” she said casually, fixing her clothes as her long blonde hair fell loosely to the side. The usual laziness in her expression remained, but there was something sharper beneath it now—a quiet amusement.

  Making sure not to lag behind, Kaito chuckled. “Heh, even your hair seems lazy.”

  She glanced at him, eyes half-lidded, lips twitching slightly as she adjusted her scarf. “Lazy, huh? Guess that’s long overdue,” she mused, rolling her shoulders as if shedding an old weight. “Feels nice, to be honest.”

  Kaito raised an eyebrow at that but decided not to push it. Instead, he simply grinned and followed as they made their way toward the forest.

  Trekking for hours, they finally arrived at their destination. Before them, chaos reigned—goblin soldiers rampaged through the area, tearing through anything in their path. Structures lay in ruins, smoke curled from scorched patches of land, and the distant screams of struggling survivors painted a grim picture of the battlefield.

  Kaito exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his sword. "That's... a lot of goblin soldiers," he muttered. His eyes scanned the battlefield, noting the sheer number of them—but something else stood out. Among the standard goblin soldiers, a different kind moved with more aggression, their armor heavier, their weapons larger, their movements refined. "And those ones... they look different. What are they?"

  Beside him, the stall owner barely glanced at the battlefield as she adjusted her appearance, fixing her clothes and hair with practiced ease. Her oversized glasses remained perched at an intentional tilt, framing her sharp green eyes. Despite the golden strands of her hair being pulled into a professional ponytail, there was an untamed energy about her, the frizzing strands at her temples defying her otherwise composed demeanor.

  Even without speaking, there was something commanding about her presence.

  Finally, she sighed, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "Those are Goblin Marauders. Dangerous bastards if you ask me," she said, voice casual but laced with something unreadable.

  Kaito barely heard her. He was still gaping, his brain struggling to process what he was seeing.

  The way she carried herself now—the shift in her posture, the air of controlled authority—it was nothing like the lazy shopkeeper he had spent so much time around. It was as if she had simply pulled off a mask and let her true self breathe.

  "M-Marauders?" he echoed dumbly, still staring.

  She smirked, finally turning to look at him. "Yeah. They don't just fight—they lead. They're the ones making sure this whole mess doesn’t stop anytime soon."

  As if to prove her point, one of the Goblin Marauders let out a guttural roar, rallying the nearby goblin soldiers into an organized charge.

  Kaito swallowed hard, forcing himself back to reality. "So... how screwed are we?"

  She adjusted her gloves, rolling her shoulders like she was warming up.

  "Depends," she said with a slow, amused smile.

  "How fast can you run?"

  Her question was quickly answered.

  To the side, Kaito was completely overwhelmed, barely keeping up as waves of Goblin Soldiers hounded him. Their sheer numbers pressed in from all directions, forcing him on the defensive as he dodged, parried, and struck out whenever he could. Each time he cut one down, another three took its place, their relentless aggression refusing to give him a moment’s respite.

  The Goblin Marauders, however, were occupied elsewhere—locked in a brutal dance of combat against the stall owner.

  And she was thriving.

  In her hands, a scythe larger than her own body carved through the battlefield in sweeping, fluid arcs. The absurd size of the weapon should have made it unwieldy, cumbersome—but in her hands, it was as if it held no weight at all.

  With each clash, with each movement, her speed grew sharper, her footwork smoother, her strikes more precise. The Kinetic Force coiled around her body like an unseen current, amplifying her every motion—turning momentum into power, energy into devastation.

  The Goblin Marauders snarled, their brute strength crashing against her in fierce, crushing blows. But no matter how hard they struck, she never truly stopped moving.

  Every attack they threw at her, she redirected with seamless grace—absorbing the force of each strike, only to return it twice as strong.

  She danced.

  Her scythe was an extension of herself, weaving through the air with calculated lethality, twisting, curving, accelerating—each movement feeding into the next, an unbroken cycle of motion.

  And the longer she fought, the more unstoppable she became.

  One of the Goblin Marauders lunged, its jagged blade swiping for her midsection.

  She shifted.

  Not a dodge, not a block—a redirection.

  Her body twisted just enough to let the attack slide past her, barely a whisper against her coat. The kinetic energy from the missed strike flowed into her scythe, causing the blade to shimmer with amplified force.

  She spun in place, the stored energy bursting forth as she brought the scythe around—

  CRACK.

  The Marauder’s torso twisted unnaturally as the scythe connected with its side, sending it hurtling across the battlefield, crashing into its own allies with bone-shattering impact.

  Another came from behind—she didn’t turn to face it.

  Instead, she planted her scythe into the ground, using it as a pivot point to launch herself upward just as a massive club swung beneath her feet. In the air, she twisted, reorienting herself before—

  WHAM.

  She came down hard, the full force of her descent slamming into the Marauder’s shoulder, sending it collapsing into the mud beneath her. Before it could react, she landed with perfect grace, her scythe already in motion—

  And in one seamless arc, she carved through its throat.

  The fight was hers.

  And she was just getting started.

  The Goblins… they were slowing down.

  At first, it was subtle—a half-step too late, a missed parry, a weaker counterattack. But with each clash, with each strike she landed, they became less stable, their movements growing more sluggish and uncoordinated.

  As if something was being drained from them.

  Their potential energy, their force—the very momentum of their own attacks—wasn’t just being nullified. It was being stolen.

  The more they fought, the weaker they became.

  The longer she moved, the stronger she grew.

  The last Goblin Marauder, the strongest among them, snarled defiantly, raising its weapon for one final desperate attack.

  She didn’t stop it.

  She let it swing.

  Let it put every ounce of strength it had left into that one strike.

  And at the very last moment—

  She redirected.

  Her scythe moved like a phantom, not clashing against the attack, but guiding it off-course, stealing the energy behind the blow as if plucking it from the air itself.

  The Goblin Marauder stumbled forward, its balance utterly destroyed—its own attack now working against it.

  And then—

  She struck.

  A single, final arc of her scythe—and the last Goblin Marauder collapsed, its body falling limp among the rest.

  Victory.

  As if she hadn’t just fought a grueling battle, the stall owner took a slow, casual step forward, almost a leisurely stroll.

  The kinetic energy still coiling through her limbs hadn’t faded yet, and with a simple shift of weight—

  She launched herself.

  A burst of momentum sent her rocketing forward, a blur of movement, closing the distance between herself and Kaito in an instant.

  Around him, dozens of bodies lay motionless—Goblin Soldiers, each one felled by quick, silent strikes, their wounds clean, efficient, almost surgical in precision.

  “You know,” Kaito grumbled, barely glancing at her arrival, "you could actually help instead of just watching."

  She tilted her head, as if considering the thought.

  Then—

  "Jenny."

  “Huh?” Kaito blinked, barely dodging a goblin’s incoming strike.

  “My name is Jenny, not ‘lazy stall owner,’” she replied flatly, her voice carrying zero urgency despite the chaos around them.

  Kaito barely had time to register her words before—

  BOOM.

  A surge of kinetic force rippled through the ground.

  The blade of her scythe, now buried in the dirt, trembled as energy pulsed through it—then released.

  Debris—stone, dirt, and shattered wood—launched into the air like artillery.

  A barrage of projectiles rained down upon the goblins, pelting them mercilessly, breaking their formations and throwing them off balance. A few unfortunate ones took direct hits—crushed by the sheer force, sent tumbling backward with pained shrieks.

  Kaito stopped mid-step, watching the display with something between admiration and disbelief.

  “Woah…” he muttered, his tone genuine. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

  Jenny simply shrugged, giving a lazy stretch, as if she hadn’t just sent goblins flying like ragdolls.

  Kaito turned back, about to compliment her further when—

  His eye twitched.

  “…And you’re asleep again.”

  There she was—scythe still embedded in the ground, head tilted slightly downward, arms loosely hanging by her sides.

  Dozing off.

  Kaito let out a helpless sigh.

  “Unbelievable…”