Following the awakening, we are ushered into a grand banquet held in our honor—an extravagant affair meant to officially welcome us as the newly summoned heroes.
The moment I step into the hall, I feel as though I've walked into a scene from a fantasy epic. The sheer opulence is overwhelming. Massive chandeliers, dripping with crystalline brilliance, cast a golden glow over the vast chamber. Ornate carvings and intricate gilded patterns decorate the towering columns, while grand tapestries depicting celestial beings drape the walls. Every inch of this place screams wealth, history, and power.
At the heart of the hall, long banquet tables stretch endlessly, their polished mahogany surfaces barely visible beneath the sheer abundance of food. Towering platters of roasted meats glisten under the candlelight, their rich aroma mingling with the scent of honeyed fruits and spiced delicacies. Bowls of vibrant, jewel-like berries, exotic seafood resting on beds of crushed ice, golden loaves of freshly baked bread—it's a feast fit for gods.
The atmosphere is vibrant, filled with the hum of conversation, bursts of laughter, and the delicate melody of a live orchestra. Musicians, stationed on a raised dais, weave a symphony of elegant strings and lilting flutes, their music draping over the hall like an enchanting spell.
Then, at the head of the room, the King rises.
His very presence commands silence.
He lifts a goblet of shimmering gold, its surface engraved with big gemstones, and in an instant, the murmurs cease. All eyes turn to him.
He speaks.
"To our newly arrived heroes," his voice rings out, deep and resonant, carrying effortlessly over the vast space. "May your courage and strength lead us to victory against the darkness that threatens our world!"
For a single heartbeat, silence lingers—then, the room erupts.
"Glory to our new heroes!"
"Glory to the King!"
"Glory to Valeria!"
A roaring wave of voices fills the hall, a declaration of fervor and anticipation. The energy is electric, almost intoxicating. The clinking of goblets echoes like bells as nobles and knights alike raise their drinks in a synchronized toast.
The King smiles, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room like a man who knows he controls the tides of fate. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. With that, the celebration begins in earnest.
Servants, dressed in immaculate uniforms, weave through the crowd with practiced grace, refilling goblets with deep crimson wine and ensuring that not a single plate remains empty. The clatter of silverware, the aroma of sizzling meat, the hum of voices—it all blends into a grand, almost surreal spectacle.
From my vantage point near the edge of the hall, I observe as Hiroshi and Takumi are immediately swept up in the whirlwind of attention. Nobles in their embroidered finery, high-ranking knights with polished armor, and scholars with big hats converge upon the two boys like moths drawn to an open flame. Their Sacred Rank talents have turned them into instant celebrities, and the admiration they receive borders on worship.
It's clear neither Hiroshi nor Takumi has had a moment to breathe. Whenever one conversation ends, another eager admirer steps forward, vying for their attention. The boys barely manage polite nods before being bombarded with extravagant gifts and honeyed flattery. Even amidst the grand feast, neither of them has had the chance to take a single bite.
In stark contrast, Yumi sits alone at a smaller table near the far wall. Her posture is slouched, shoulders slightly hunched as she stirs absently at the liquid in her goblet. The energy of the hall washes over her but does not touch her, as though she exists in a separate world entirely—one much quieter, much lonelier.
Noticing her unease, I weave through clusters of laughing guests and take a seat beside her, careful not to startle her.
"Not enjoying the party?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
Yumi looks up, momentarily surprised, but quickly masks it with a small, strained smile. "I'm all right," she murmurs, though her eyes betray the lie. "I've just been… thinking about everything. It's a lot to take in, you know?" She hesitates, gaze drifting back to the swirling contents of her drink. "I don't know what I should do next. Should I stay here… or go home? Honestly, I'm not even sure they need me. My talent isn't anywhere near as impressive as the boys'."
Her voice wavers at the last part, and for a moment, I don't respond.
"Hmm… I don't think it's that bad, to be honest," I finally say.
Yumi's Heroic Rank, though overshadowed by the boys' Sacred Rank, is still a rare and valuable gift. It's better than what 99% of the people in this world could ever dream of. Sure, her nature affinity isn't flashy or combat-oriented, but that doesn't make it useless. As Seraphina mentioned, she could train to become a spirit user or a master herbalist—roles that could be just as vital in the grand scheme of things.
More importantly, I need someone like her.
An ally with her kind of potential could prove invaluable, especially for what I have planned. But whether she stays or goes isn't up to me—it's her decision alone.
"Yumi, you need to think about this carefully," I say, leaning forward slightly, making sure she meets my gaze. "Do you want to stay here, or would you rather go back? You have your family at home, don't you? They're probably really worried about you right now."
The moment I mention her family, her expression shifts. Her smile falters, her fingers twisting together anxiously as she glances away.
"Actually, I… I don't…" Yumi's voice catches, barely above a whisper. "My family… I… I'm not sure if they're worried about me…" She bites her lip, hands fidgeting in her lap. "I… um… never mind…"
She's trying to downplay it, but the sadness in her eyes is unmistakable—raw and unspoken, yet painfully evident.
A wave of regret crashes over me.
On the surface, Yumi has always seemed cheerful, bubbly, effortlessly kind. But beneath that warmth, beneath that ever-present smile, she has been carrying burdens I hadn't even begun to imagine.
I could pry. I could push for answers. But would it help? Or would it only deepen the wounds she's trying so hard to conceal?
Instead, I exhale softly and meet her gaze with a quiet sincerity.
"Oh… I'm sorry…"
"No, it's okay…" Yumi replies, but her smile is half-hearted at best. Then, with a deft shift, she steers the conversation away from herself. "That aside, what about you, Jack? Are you planning to go back?"
"No," I say without hesitation. "I'm staying here."
Her eyes widen slightly, caught off guard. "Really? You seem like the kind of guy who'd have a great life back home. Why leave all that behind?"
She's not wrong. To an outsider, I probably look like someone with everything going for him—fit, well-dressed, confident. Back home, I had money, resources, a company that pushed the boundaries of human potential. Yet here, in this new world, I have no powers, no blood talent to my name. To her, it must seem illogical—why would I willingly trade certainty for the unknown?
I lean back slightly in my chair, mulling over my words. "Hmmm," I murmur, letting a small pause settle between us. "It's simple, really. This is a fantasy world. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of being in a place like this—magic, knights, a whole new realm to explore. How could I walk away from that?"
Yumi blinks, then nods as realization dawns. "Oh, I see! That actually makes sense. But still… it takes a lot of courage to abandon everything and chase a dream. You're pretty impressive, Jack. If it were me, I don't think I'd ever be brave enough to do something like this."
I chuckle lightly. "Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Not having any superpowers does suck—just a little bit." I let out an exaggerated sigh, and Yumi giggles softly. "But honestly, it doesn't bother me much. Life's more fun when it's challenging, right? Even without cheat abilities, I'll find a way to make it work."
Her smile this time is more genuine. "Yep, I believe you can do it too."
The conversation flows naturally after that, the earlier heaviness lifting. We shift to lighter topics—anime, music, random bits of trivia—learning small things about each other as the evening wears on. The festive melodies of the orchestra weave through the air, the decadent banquet food serving as a welcome indulgence. For a little while, it almost feels like an ordinary night between two friends.
…
"Wait, seriously? You're 45 years old already? Are you kidding me!?" Yumi nearly chokes on her drink, eyes wide with disbelief.
I chuckle at her reaction. "Haha, thanks!"
"What's your skincare secret?! You look like you're 25! Tell me what products you use! TELL ME PLEASEE!"
I smirk. "Well, have you heard of Biogerontechnology?"
"Huh? Never heard of it. What is it?" she asks, leaning in, curiosity piqued.
"It's cutting-edge tech," I explain. "A revolutionary process that repairs cells at the molecular level, reverses DNA damage, and slows—or even reverses—aging. Basically, it's why I don't look my age."
Yumi listens intently as I delve into the details, her amazement growing with every word. I describe the intricacies of cellular regeneration, the latest advancements from my company, the scientific breakthroughs that turned fiction into reality. Her enthusiasm is infectious, her fascination a welcome shift from the uncertainty that clouded her moments ago.
Yet, even as I speak, part of my attention is elsewhere.
At the far end of the banquet hall, King Alaric and Grand Mage Seraphina sit close together at an ornate table, their voices hushed. Though they attempt discretion, there is an undeniable weight to their discussion, a quiet tension simmering beneath the grandeur of the evening.
Something's off.
They're planning something.