A day later.
The sll of grilled at and sizzling fries wafted through the air like a homing beacon for the city’s hungry. It was back to work again for the two.
"Order seven! Double beef with cheese, no onions, large fries, orange juice!" he called out.
"Got it!" Lyra shouted from the side station, her apron a little crooked and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was tied back into a short ponytail, and a thin sheen of sweat lined her forehead.
She spun in place, grabbed the magically-cooled pitcher from the freezing chamber, and poured orange liquid into a crystal cup shaped like a goblet. The custor—a dwarf with soot on his face and a miner’s helt—smiled toothily as she handed it over the counter.
"Appreciate it, miss!" he said before waddling toward a booth near the window.
"Next!" Inigo barked, already placing another patty on the grill.
It had been a busy morning.
No staff. Just the two of them.
The others were either sick, assigned to academy duties, or too hungover from last night’s local festival to show up. But Inigo wasn’t stressed. He thrived under pressure—and Lyra was more than capable.
Between them, they ran the shop like a finely-tuned machine.
"Okay," Lyra panted. "That was the fifteenth order in under an hour. I think we’re still alive."
"Barely," Inigo said. "Want to split fry in five minutes?"
"Deal," she said, flashing a grin.
The bell above the door jingled again, and a new wave of custors entered—two elven archers in scout cloaks, a couple of young mages from the academy, and what looked like a foreign rchant trying to decipher the nu board.
Inigo stepped forward. "Welco to McRonald’s! Where the food’s fast and the staff’s faster. What can I get you?"
As Lyra jotted down the orders, Inigo danced between fryer and grill, managing the queue with a speed and accuracy that made even a few custors applaud.
"Hey, you ever think about franchising?" one of the elves joked.
"Not until I have employees who don’t faint during lunch rush," Inigo replied without missing a beat.
Things were hectic—but they were good.
At least, until the alarm sounded.
A shrill, magical howl tore through the air—sharp and clear like a whistle piercing through one’s chest. The jingle cut off. The mana lights above flickered red. All conversation stopped as the alert sigil projected itself onto the far wall of the shop.
**ERGENCY ALERT**
**HOSTILE FORCES DETECTED OUTSIDE CITY WALLS**
**ALL CITIZENS: REMAIN INDOORS OR SEEK SHELTER**
**B-RANK THREATS CONFIRD. ESTIMATED HOSTILE PRESENCE: DEMONIC**
**ESTIMATED TI OF ARRIVAL: 1 HOUR**
The room fell into silence.
The foreign rchant dropped his coin pouch. The elven archers imdiately moved toward the door, exchanging nods.
"Outside the city?" Lyra whispered, her body tensing beside the soda fountain.
Inigo stepped away from the counter, his eyes scanning the hovering sigil. His hands slowly clenched into fists.
"We’re being attacked?" one of the young mages asked in disbelief. "Why now?"
"They wouldn’t ring the citywide horn unless they confird it," Inigo said flatly. "Which ans this isn’t just so wandering monsters. This is organized."
"Demonic..." Lyra repeated. "Could it be...?"
"The Demon King’s forces." Inigo didn’t need to guess. His voice was already hardening.
He turned toward the custors.
"All of you," he said, "take your food, we are closing."
"You sure?" the dwarf asked. "Ain’t you comin’?"
"I’m an adventurer, I will participate in the battle" Inigo said, already removing his apron.
Lyra followed suit, her brows furrowed, face serious. "I’ll guide them. You prep."
Inigo nodded. "Right."
Lyra turned to the group, ushering the startled custors toward the back alleyway where an ergency escape route was carved into the stone. "Follow ! Quickly!"
As the door closed behind them, Inigo grabbed the ergency trunk behind the fryer and opened it.
Inside: his combat vest, twin Desert Eagles, a belt of elental rounds, and a reinforced set of armor. All neatly arranged and ready for the day he’d need them.
Apparently, that day was today.
He suited up in silence.
No words. No thoughts. Just muscle mory. Every strap, every buckle, every magazine loaded with surgical precision.
When he erged from the kitchen, McRonald’s was empty, silent, and glowing red with alarm light.
But outside—outside, the city stirred like a beehive.
He stepped onto the street and looked toward the horizon.
And saw it.
A cloud of black mist on the southern side—just past the walls. Marching shapes within it. Glowing eyes. Roars that echoed through the wind like drums of war.
Inigo narrowed his eyes.
Then a voice crackled in his system interface.
SYSTEM ALERT: DEMONIC FORCES CONFIRD!
RECOMNDED ACTION: IMDIATE RESPONSE / REINFORCENT
REWARD: ???
Inigo’s lips curled into a faint smile.
"So...a mission from the system, this is fairly a new feature. And there is a secret reward? Damn."
He looked toward the academy spire in the distance, then to the rooftops of the rchant district, where he could see all the locals scrambling about.
The city bell tower tolled in the distance—a deep, mournful sound that rang through stone and soul alike.
He blink-dashed once—onto a rooftop. Then again—higher. The vantage point gave him a clearer view of the city’s southern gate.
It was already being reinforced.
Mages ford barriers, knights shouted orders, and squads of adventurers readied their gear on makeshift staging grounds. Above them, the black mist churned. Dark silhouettes pressed forward like a flood.
And at the center of that darkness—
Inigo saw it.
Tall.
Crowned.
Burning eyes.
A figure too large, too focused to be just another demon.
The Demon.
He wasn’t sure if that was the Demon Lord, but the vibes it gives off is too strong.
Inigo drew both pistols.
"This is going to be my first ti dealing with demonic forces, and I can’t wait to see how powerful they are in this world."
Well, he had watched a lot of ani, and there were types of demon races that could destroy a planet. If that was the case, then this would be definitely difficult for him to deal with.
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