Back at Legendor.
*Swish!*
The restaurant turned into a battlefield before most patrons could process what was happening.
Nero’s hand moved.
Not dramatically. Not with flashy buildup.
Just moved, fingers snapping through precise gestures while his voice carried casual authority that made spellcasting sound like ordering coffee.
"Water: Lash."
*CRACK!*
Liquid materialized from atmospheric moisture and slamd into the nearest bandit’s weapon arm with enough force to shatter bone, the compressed water whip moving faster than steel and hitting harder than physics should allow for sothing technically fluid.
The bandit scread.
Dropped his blade.
Didn’t get a second chance to reconsider his life choices because Nero’s follow-up gesture sent crystallized ice shards through the air like throwing knives that knew exactly where vital pressure points lived.
*Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.*
Three more collapsed.
Clean hits. Minimal movent. The kind of efficiency that ca from training under people who’d perfected violence into an art form and expected their student to take notes.
His footwork carried him past a wild swing without breaking stride, body twisting with fluid grace while his free hand traced geotric patterns that made the air itself hostile.
"Fire: Burst."
*WHOOSH!*
Superheated plasma erupted at chest level, controlled detonation that knocked two bandits backward through tables they’d threatened civilians at exactly twelve seconds ago.
The irony wasn’t lost on anyone still conscious enough to appreciate it.
Nero didn’t even break a sweat.
Just moved through the chaos like he was demonstrating techniques for an exam, each spell flowing naturally into the next with the kind of seamless transition that made complex magic look stupidly simple.
Across the destroyed dining area, gravity stopped following the rules.
The teenage girl hadn’t stood from her floating chair.
Didn’t need to.
Just flicked two fingers with visible irritation, and three bandits found themselves experiencing personal gravitational fields that violently disagreed about fundantal concepts like "down" and "up" and "please stop making my internal organs try to escape through my ears."
*WHAM! CRASH!*
Their bodies slamd together from impossible angles, contradictory forces crushing them into unconsciousness through sheer disorienting violence that made traditional beatings look gentle by comparison.
She yawned.
Actually yawning, like weaponizing physics, had been a boring exercise rather than an impressive display of power that should require significantly more effort.
The suited man hadn’t moved either.
Still seated. Still perfectly postured.
But his gloved hand rested on an ornate katana’s hilt, and the last bandit suddenly had a thin red line across his chest that definitely hadn’t existed a heartbeat ago.
The cut was so clean it took several seconds to catch up.
Then blood rembered it should probably start flowing, and the bandit collapsed with an expression suggesting he genuinely couldn’t comprehend what had just happened to him.
*Thud.*
Seven unconscious bodies.
Maybe fifteen seconds of actual combat.
Three completely different fighting styles executed with overwhelming efficiency that made professional violence look almost boring in its precision.
The remaining patrons stared with expressions that cycled through shock, awe, and the uncomfortable realization that they’d been eating dinner next to people who could probably conquer small countries if sufficiently motivated.
***
Nero straightened his jacket with casual motion that suggested the brief violence had been a minor inconvenience.
Like accidentally stepping in a puddle rather than dismantling ard criminals through applied magical physics.
His eyes t the teenage girl’s gaze across the destroyed restaurant, and sothing clicked.
Recognition.
Not of faces or nas, but of capability.
The way dangerous people assessed their own kind and imdiately understood the math.
"Well."
He grinned, noting the unconscious bandits and that impossibly clean sword stroke still dripping red onto expensive flooring.
"That was a refreshing exercise."
The girl’s irritated scowl transford instantly.
Sharp grin showing too many teeth, competitive energy practically radiating off her floating form in ways that made her hard hat and overalls look completely at odds with the gravitational devastation she’d just casually deployed.
"You’re not half bad for soone who looks like he wandered out of a fantasy ani protagonist catalog."
The blunt assessnt ca without filter, like her brain and mouth had signed a treaty agreeing that diplomacy was for other people.
Nero laughed.
Genuine, surprised, delighted by the sheer audacity.
"Coming from soone who dresses like a construction worker but fights like an angry god, I’ll take that as a complint."
"Damn right you should."
She floated her chair closer, gravity making the movent look effortless while physics quietly filed a complaint about workplace safety violations.
"Heena Min-Jeowon. Professional engineer, part-ti dungeon clearer, full-ti pain in everyone’s ass."
The suited man stood finally, adjusting his pince-nez with movents so precise they looked rehearsed.
His grey eyes assessed Nero with uncomfortable accuracy, like he was calculating exact threat levels and filing the information away for future reference.
"William Fordsmith."
His voice carried polite formality that sohow beca threatening through sheer courtesy.
"... I apologize for our companion’s crude language."
"Don’t apologize for , Will."
Heena shot him a look that could probably violate several laws of thermodynamics.
"I’m crude on purpose, it drives away pests."
Nero gestured at Celis, who’d remained serenely composed throughout the entire chaos like ard robberies were mild weather phenona rather than actual threats,
"Nero Walker. This is Celis. She’s... significantly better at manners than I am and definitely more patient with my questionable life choices."
Celis’s gentle smile carried warmth that made the destroyed restaurant feel sohow peaceful despite the unconscious criminals and broken furniture.
"Tis a pleasure to et kindred souls who share our affinity for resolving conflict through decisive action."
Her old speech pattern sohow made synchronized violence sound like a perfectly reasonable social bonding activity.
Heena’s grin widened impossibly further.
"Oh, I like her already."
***
The restaurant staff’s panicked cleanup attempts provided background noise while they claid an intact table near the window.
City guards had arrived, assessed the situation, took one look at the unconscious bandits and the three people who’d clearly handled the problem with extre prejudice, then decided paperwork could happen later after everyone involved had cald down from whatever the hell just occurred.
Smart guards.
Heena leaned forward, her playful energy evaporating into sothing deadly serious that made the air feel heavier.
She pulled a small crystal from her overalls, activating stored data that projected recorded news footage into the space between them.
"You two seem like people who pay attention to patterns."
Her voice dropped an octave, losing the casual banter entirely.
"So I’ll skip the diplomatic bullshit: a mysterious group has been making massive waves across the Reford Earth, leaving their calling card at every disaster site like they’re collecting villain achievent points."
The projection flickered.
Burning cities. Corrupted dungeons. Mass casualties that looked deliberately orchestrated rather than random chaos.
And there, burned into walls and carved into stone and painted in what looked disturbingly like actual blood—
A symbol.
Circular. Twisted. Wrong in ways that made Nero’s enhanced perception scream warnings about things that shouldn’t exist in stable reality.
His blood ran cold with imdiate recognition.
"The Obsidian Covenant."
The words ca out flat, completely devoid of his usual casual energy.
Every trace of humor evaporating like water hitting superheated tal.
Heena froze mid-explanation, eyes widening comically.
William’s precisely maintained composure cracked enough to show genuine surprise, his analytical gaze sharpening with increased focus that suggested he was rapidly recalculating threat assessnts and strategic implications.
"You know them?"
Heena’s question erged carefully, like she was handling sothing that might explode if poked wrong.
Nero’s expression hardened into sothing that made his usual friendly deanor look like a carefully maintained mask.
"I’ve dealt with them before."
His voice carried weight that transcended simple acknowledgnt.
"Well... we did manage to hunt down one of their Circle Leaders after they tried using mind-controlled civilians as bait."
The revelation hung in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled.
"Wow... you and your team must be quite strong then."
Heena whistled in amusent, her floating chair dropping several inches as concentration slipped.
"Hmmm..."
To that, Nero only shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, it’s mostly Aury who did it... And hunting corrupted cultists isn’t exactly a hobby so much as necessary self-defense when they keep trying to kidnap your people."
William’s fingers tapped once against Pendulum’s scabbard, the only visible sign of internal calculation happening behind his butler-like politeness.
"Still... that explains the combat capability."
His grey eyes focused on Nero with uncomfortable precision.
"Circle Leaders are at least SR-tier threats minimum as the weakest from what I gathered... Defeating one requires more than overwhelming power."
Heena also added,
"We took down a Circle Leader two weeks ago in our territory."
The frown on her face was quite evident as she recounted the details and the ss that was left in her hotown.
"Bastard was corrupting leylines and weaponizing dungeon monsters, left behind enough dark magic residue to poison the area for months... That’s why I’m here, actually."
"... Tracking the aftermath. Trying to figure out their larger ga plan before more cities burn."
William’s precise voice cut through like a scalpel finding vital targets.
"The dungeons in Legendor have also begun exhibiting anomalous behavior."
His fingers traced patterns against the table’s surface, mapping invisible connections.
"Corruption signatures matching known Obsidian Covenant techniques. Monster behavior patterns suggesting external control. So distortions that shouldn’t exist in stable dinsional spaces."
He looked directly at Nero, analytical assessnt bleeding into sothing approaching respect.
"If you’ve genuinely encountered and defeated their operatives... at least, you possess strength and knowledge that could prove invaluable for understanding their continental strategy."
The weight of realization settled over them like physical pressure.
Isolated incidents connecting into terrifying patterns.
Separate battles revealing coordinated campaigns.
Individual victories that suddenly looked like minor skirmishes in a war none of them had fully recognized yet.
"They’re everywhere."
Nero’s quiet observation carried the kind of certainty that ca from pattern recognition finally clicking into horrifying clarity.
"Not just opportunistic cultists causing random chaos. This is organized... They’re probably building toward sothing big enough to require operations across multiple territories simultaneously."
Heena’s expression hardened into determination that made her look significantly older than her teenage appearance suggested.
"Then we need to stop them before whatever they’re planning reaches critical mass."
William nodded once, precise movent that conveyed absolute agreent.
"Coordination between territories will be essential. Isolated responses will fail against organized continental strategy."
They exchanged contact information with the understanding that dangerous people should probably maintain communication channels when facing mutual threats that crossed territorial boundaries.
Farewells carried weight beyond simple pleasantries, unspoken acknowledgnt that they’d likely cross paths again under circumstances that would probably involve significant violence.
***
Legendor’s evening streets felt peaceful after the restaurant chaos.
Nero and Celis walked in comfortable silence that sohow felt heavier than usual, the day’s events settling into contemplative quiet that neither rushed to fill with unnecessary conversation.
Then Celis spoke, her voice erging without preamble or context.
"Dost thou believe in fate, Lord Nero?"
The question hit like a non-sequitur wrapped in philosophical weight, her blind eyes focused on nothing and everything simultaneously.
Nero tilted his head, genuinely confused by the apparent shift in topic.
His mouth opened to respond–
Celis laughed softly.
The sound carried lancholy undertones that made his chest tighten with concern, like hearing beautiful music played in a minor key that suggested sadness beneath technical perfection.
"Forgive , I speak in riddles when lost in thought."
Her smile looked fragile.
Glass monts before shattering, held together by sheer force of will and centuries of practice at maintaining composure.
"Thank you for today. It was truly wonderful."
But the gratitude felt wrong.
Like farewell rather than appreciation.
Like soone savoring a last al rather than enjoying a pleasant mory.
Nero’s emotional intelligence, which had been steadily improving under Aurelia’s inadvertent tutelage, scread that sothing important was happening beneath surface pleasantries.
"I want to hear your story."
The words ca out firm but gentle, completely serious.
Cutting through her deflection with the kind of straightforward honesty that was becoming his trademark approach to problems that couldn’t be solved through violence or creative magic application.
Celis flinched for a mont.
"..."
Her lips parted for a bit before they closed again.
Her hands trembled slightly before she clasped them together with visible effort.
"Thou... truly wishest to know?"
The First Saintess looks a bit unsure.
... Like she’d been anticipating for him to ask but terrified of what would happen when he actually did so.
Nero stepped closer, closing the distance between them without hesitation.
His hand found hers, squeezing gently with reassurance that transcended words.
"Yeah."
Simple affirmation, carrying absolute sincerity.
"I really do."
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