Whatever misunderstanding had led to this, I wasn't about to correct it. Free perks were free perks.
"I'm not some military leader, so you can relax," I said casually, watching the three men ease up, though not entirely.
"Sir, would you like us to provide transportation to the city?"
"That would be appreciated," I replied, hearing Sylvie's soft giggle echo in my mind.
Well, I got my free ride to the city as I had intended to.
Before long, I was perched on the side of the pickup truck while two of the men sat across from me in the back.
"So," I began, breaking the silence, "how often do you come across travelers?"
"Not often," Markus answered bluntly. "It's pretty rare. Most folks prefer the safety and comfort of the city."
"Safety, you say," I mused aloud. "What's the source of this safety?"
Their reactions told me it wasn't their military force providing it. Markus grinned, almost proudly.
"Well, that'd be thanks to the sixth Progenitor's descendant—our Leader. His skills are unmatched. Leadership, combat, strategy—you name it."
Progenitor? Another term to add to my mental dictionary. Would it seem suspicious to ask about it now?
"I see," I said, nodding thoughtfully. "Sounds like he's well-loved."
"Loved is an understatement! He's the best leader that Pera's had in over a century," Markus said enthusiastically.
A century? That meant this settlement had managed to thrive for quite some time despite the chaos of this world. Either their defenses were top-notch, or this region was safer than the hellscape I'd encountered before.
Then again, there was the chance this city was far from the area I'd been in earlier, which could explain why they hadn't mentioned anything about Handsy, Barrel Legs, or... the demoness.
Ah, the demoness—I'd forgotten to bring her up. Not that it mattered now.
What piqued my interest was how they'd called me a "noble." That implied some kind of aristocratic system in Pera. But what exactly made someone noble? Appearance? Achievements? Bloodline?
On my Earth, nobility was just an outdated relic—a title granted to families clinging to wealth and self-importance. It was vanity, nothing more.
"Say," I ventured, deciding to get straight to the point, "what made you think I was a noble?"
Markus offered a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "Well, sir, it's simple. Only nobles can handle Nightmares on their own."
Nightmares. So that's what they called the creatures.
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" I pressed, leaning forward slightly.
Markus paused, clearly weighing his words, before answering. "To take down category two or three Nightmares like the ones you dealt with, we'd need around six sections, each with at least five years of combat experience."
"And each section consists of…?"
"Six soldiers," he clarified.
That was a lot to process. First, it seemed the Nightmares were categorized in some structured way. I'd encountered two and three so far, which naturally raised the question: what category would the demoness fall into?
"How many categories are there?" I asked, pressing for more.
"Officially, there are eight," Markus replied, his tone shifting. "But unofficially? There are two more. The government pretends they don't exist—for the sake of public morale, I guess."
I raised a brow at that. Was it a way to avoid widespread panic?
"And how do you determine a Nightmare's category?"
"There are three main factors," he explained, holding up his fingers as he listed them. "First is the threat scale—how active they are and the amount of destruction they cause during that activity. Second, their origin and powers. And third, the rate at which they can multiply."
I nodded along. It seemed like a reasonable system, though I doubted its effectiveness when it came to the higher categories.
"Still," I said, "you mentioned needing six sections to deal with categories two and three. That seems... excessive."
Markus chuckled dryly. "For you nobles, maybe. Nightmares aren't much of a challenge for your kind. For us ordinary soldiers, though? Our weapons barely scratch them. Let's just say the name 'Nightmare' isn't just for show."
I frowned, trying to make sense of that. "Your weapons barely work? But I used a standard rocket launcher to take down the flying head one."
At that, Markus closed his eyes and shook his head firmly.
"There's no way what you used was 'standard'," he said flatly. "A Soul Dragger wouldn't so much as flinch at a regular explosion like that."
The hell?
That comment stuck with me. Was the RPG I'd used significantly more powerful than the ones they had? Or was there something about my creation ability I hadn't fully grasped yet? Also, what was up with the name? For some reason, I felt like it didn't fit the thing, unless it had an ability that I was unaware of.
That aside, regarding my RPG vs theirs, I wasn't about to let on that I could manifest objects at will, so I left the topic alone for now.
That ultimately ended up being the last conversation we had on the truck. The rest of the ride was spent lost in thought, piecing together everything I'd learned.
From what I could tell, I'd have to keep playing the part of a noble. The problem? I only had a vague idea of what being a noble actually meant—besides the apparent fact that they were highly capable.
I found myself wondering just how many nobles there were. And what exactly made them so respected that these soldiers were willing to overlook my half-baked, whimsical responses?