I’ve heard that burning to death is the most painful way to go. The way Harold screamed made me believe it.

I felt frozen, suddenly sick at what I’d done as the man dissolved into flame. It was as if an inferno had erupted in the core of his body, and every inch of him was either crisped completely black or venting concentrated fire. Skin charred, cracked, poured smoke and little flickers; every hole in his head blazed orange and I swear I could see the moment his eyeballs boiled away. It was the most horrific spectacle I had ever beheld, and the fact that I had done this to another living person left me utterly paralyzed with the shock of it.

The sound of his sword clattering to the floor was lost in the noise of Harold’s screams as he himself buckled to his knees; I tried to back away, but was already pressed against the ramparts and any further movement threatened to tip me over.

And then…it receded. The flames faded, and to my amazement, everything charred on him regenerated right before my eyes. As the fire died, his skin smoothed out, eyes re-forming out of seemingly nothing. Even his hair grew back.

In the next moment we were left in silence, staring at each other in shock. It took me a further second to grasp what had happened. It was still a healing spell, a powerful one, I had just added an extra component. And so, it had healed him. Fully.

With fire.

Harold, too, came to an obvious realization: he was now alone on a rooftop with someone who could do that. Clumsily, he snatched up his fallen sword and tried to launch a wild swing at me. Maybe the last several minutes of being chased around the fortress had primed survival instincts atrophied from a lifetime spent in a first world country, but despite my horror of a moment ago at this terrible spell I’d created, I didn’t hesitate for an instant.

“Immolate!”

“What did you do to him!?”

There was Kasser, yet again, standing in the doorway and looking a bit the worse for wear for his tumble down the staircase, and also utterly sick at the spectacle of Harold thrashing about and being burned from the inside out, again.

A strange calm had descended on me. It was almost like the last moment before the combined spell had formed in my mind; I had the indefinable sense that things were slotting into place, as they should be.

“Oh, him?” I had to raise my voice a bit to be clear above Harold’s anguished wailing, crouching to collect his sword from where he’d dropped it again to step past him toward Kasser. “Well, it’s a bit complicated to explain. Why don’t I show you?”

The noise Kasser made was just as wordless and primal, though his was a roar of pure rage as he charged me, sword first.

This time I just focused my mind, not bothering to vocalize it.

Immolate.

He burst into flames just as neatly as his companion, collapsing to his knees mid-lunge. It was amazing how quickly I’d gotten over my shock and revulsion at inflicting this; it still wasn’t fun to watch, but knowing the suffering was temporary and they’d in fact be even better than they’d started out once the healing effect finished working changed the equation for me. Actually, a distant part of me wondered, did that make it even worse? This was no combat spell; it was effectively just an implement of torture. What was the difference between me doing this, and Virya doing it to me?

Of course, that question had an immediate answer: Virya was torturing someone who posed no threat to her, purely for her own sick satisfaction. These guys had been trying to murder me a minute ago, and had been very close to succeeding. I had exactly one means of stopping them, so…here we were.

Collecting Kasser’s sword, too, I chucked it over the parapet. Funny, now that I looked closely; the swords were scimitars and clearly not made of metal. I might almost have taken it for black glass, except for the oddly organic pattern on the blades. Well, I decided to examine that later, just holding Harold’s blade at my side for now.

Harold was in the fetal position by the time his friend stopped burning; Kasser scuttled backward from me, all his rage of the last several minutes gone in an expression of pure terror as he retreated to press his back against the battlements. They were fine, I knew—physically. But the looks on their faces… They way it was them fleeing from me, suddenly, in a reversal of our relationship up till now…

Never mind shock or guilt over causing such pain. In that moment, with my enemies cowering at my feet, I was overcome by such an all-encompassing sense of vindication that everything else faded away.

This was… This was right. Those who opposed me should be on the ground before me, gibbering in terror and submission. I raised my head, staring down at fallen foes, and behind them I could see a thousand shades of every idiot I’d ever met in Japan or California who deserved to be set on fire but was protected by the laws of a comfortable modern world. Every asshole who dared look down on me as if I were less than them, from my stuffed shirt father to that sweaty jackass just this morning who’d wanted his precious special edition but hadn’t bothered to pre-order—

And then suddenly I became consciously aware of the direction my thoughts were taking, and it all vanished like a popped soap bubble, leaving me sick with guilt. Maybe Virya hadn’t been wrong to choose me, after all…

I backed up, eyes on them, sword ready to swing…but more realistically, since I knew nothing about hand to hand combat, prepared to cast another Immolate. I’m pretty sure it was the latter prospect which kept them both glued to the battlements, as far from me as they could physically get while I retreated to the door. Grabbing the latch, I stepped back through and pulled it shut behind me.

This one also had a bar. I could see why, too: the bar and the brackets to hold it had been pounded into the walls and the door after its construction because the latch itself no longer shut properly, something having knocked out a chunk of the door frame where it should connect. Somehow I hadn’t noticed this while fleeing through it in a panic and also trying to teach myself spell combination. I lowered the bar into place, trapping Kasser and Harold on the roof, took two steps to the side so they couldn’t stab me through the cracks if they found their courage again, and slumped backward against the wall.

My first moment on Ephemera not spent fleeing for my life, and I already had so much to process I couldn’t even get around to dealing with the reality of the fact that I was stranded on an alien planet full of medieval thugs. That last moment there on the tower was still ringing in my head. Despite what Virya had said, I’ve never thought of myself as a bad person. Sure, I can be rude, I’ll own that, but it’s just my way of coping with an unfair world. I tend to shoot my mouth off, but that’s not a bad thing per se, just not socially acceptable in Japanese society; if anything it would’ve been an asset once I finally moved back to California. Americans love snark, and you don’t even have to have lived there to know it, just watch their movies. And yeah, more of my girlfriends than otherwise have called me an asshole, but not until after the breakup, mostly, and you can’t really expect a woman to be reasonable under circumstances like that.

This, though. That…malicious glee at inflicting such a brutal humbling on someone. I did not know I had that in me, and I didn’t care for the discovery. It’s one thing to be a bit of a jerk sometimes, that’s not the same as being a bad person. The kind of monster who can set someone on fire and then feel smug about it.

None of it meant anything, I told myself. Those fuckers had been trying to murder me. Anyone would feel jubilant about putting them in their place! I wasn’t by nature called to be some kind of Dark Lord, Virya had chosen me at random. She had to have. It was the other guy, Shinonome Yoshi, whose fault this was. The kid had practically stepped right out of a proper isekai: midway through his teens, the sort of vague good nature who’d return a dropped phone even to the most insufferable girl in Tokyo, no evidence of any life goals or a personality, apparently no bonds tying him to life in Japan to judge by how fast he jumped at the opportunity to be whisked away to another world. Aside from being fatter than the average harem hero, he was practically the template. I was just some poor bastard who’d been standing nearby when Sanora picked him, so Virya grabbed me.

Although, that didn’t explain why time had frozen to apparently test us both. And, I guess from the outside, the different ways we’d both reacted to the obnoxious gyaru’s dilemma must’ve looked…

“Oh, wow. Looks like you got this sorted out, huh? Figured out the spell combination, then?” Biribo saved me from spiraling any further down that rabbit hole by returning with another scroll.

Mechanically, I held out a hand without answering him and he dropped the scroll into it. As soon as I moved my other hand toward it with the intent to unroll, the ribbon broke. So they responded to intention? Neat. I felt strangely abstract as I opened the scroll, activating the magic and absorbing the word, feeling the spell take shape in my mind:

Summon Slime.

I breathed in and then back out, slowly. A few minutes ago, this would have made me very angry. Right now, I was just too tired.

“Biribo?”

“Boss?”

“Is there any chance that on Ephemera, slimes are huge, fearsome monsters befitting the demonic armies of the Dark Lord?”

He flicked out his tongue, and I have the distinct impression his little lizard face was grinning at me. “Well, now that we’ve got the luxury of time to experiment, seems like there’s a good way to find out!”

“Indeed. Summon Slime.”

It popped into being on the floor by my feet, a gelatinous orb roughly the size of a honeydew melon. Mostly transparent with a pale blue hue, and no visible features; no eyes or obvious core the way you sometimes see them depicted in manga. Or maybe not, I don’t read that kind of manga as a rule. Just…a blob.

As we both stared in silence, the slime extended a gooey pseudopod to probe at the wall next to it, then began oozing slowly across the floor.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing the weariness in my own voice, “that seems about right. Welp, looks like I’ve just conquered my first castle. Let’s go see what we’re working with.”

“And where do these Blessings come from?”

“Oh, several possible sources. Most commonly a Spirit gives ‘em as a reward for performing its task. Some of the more veteran Blessed can get artifacts or spells that enable them to bestow Blessings on others, but that’s really rare. Occasionally the goddesses will give one out directly to a chosen individual. It’s also a pretty common reward for vanquishing the final boss of a dungeon, in the unlikely event someone who’s not already Blessed manages to do that.”

Every explanation only raised more questions. Spirits? Dungeons, final bosses? That bit in particular made my eyelid start to twitch and I focused my attention back on directing the burning slime to crawl back and forth across the floor. I could almost deal with being stuck with an impossible task on this weird-ass planet, but adding honest to god video game mechanics to the mix just seemed insulting.

“And…three kinds,” I repeated more slowly, compelling the fire slime to climb up a table leg. The stuff it was made from—akorshil, if I remembered the pronunciation right—showed no ill effect from the heat and flame. It did resemble wood, at a glance, but was oddly pale and the grain had a different shape.

“Far as most folks are concerned, two,” Biribo said, flicking his tongue out at me. “The Blessing of Wisdom is so rare a lot of people don’t even know it exists. Of the few who have it, most keep it a secret. That kind of advantage is maximized by nobody knowing you’ve got it.”

“And that’s the one that gives you a familiar.”

“Your personal spy and advisor, that’s the biggest benefit! Also gives you the ability to understand and speak any language. And later on, as you develop it, potentially some more exotic benefits.”

That explained that; I’d only noticed belatedly that Harold and Kasser had definitely not been yelling at me—or me at them—in Japanese. The local language was so intuitive I’d just used it without even realizing the difference.

“Hm. So it’s the other two Blessings that let you actively use magic.”

“Yup. The Blessing of Might allows you to use artifacts, pieces of equipment which have magical effects, and the Blessing of Magic…well, that’s the one you’ve been using already.”

“Right. Scrolls and spells.” I wasn’t about to admit it out loud but I appreciated how patient he was in his explanation; this was the second time he’d gone over it. I was deliberately disciplining myself not to chase tangents. It would take me a while to understand everything about how this world worked, and for right now I was painfully aware that Kasser and Harold were just the lookouts posted to hold down the fort while the rest of the bandit gang was out raiding, or whatever bandits did. They’d be back soon and I had better be on more solid footing by the time they got here.

“So, these artifacts…what kinds of things are they?”

“Oh, all kinds! Most commonly weapons, armor, clothing or jewelry. Each one’ll have a specific effect but there’s way too many to describe. Like, a sword that’ll cut through most anything or armor that’ll protect from magic, those are pretty basic ones. Rarer artifacts can have really fancy powers!”

“Right. And where do I go about finding artifacts and more spells?” After the slime one, there had been only two more scrolls in the pile the unfortunate peddler had unknowingly bequeathed to me: Tame Beast and Spirit Bond. The first enabled me to control the slimes I could now summon. The second was useless so far, as its purpose was to share magical attributes between the caster and the target, and slimes didn’t have any of those. It might come in handy later, though, when I found more exotic monsters. So far, it seemed the peddler had been carrying a basic monster-tamer package of spells, plus Spark, Enamor, and Heal. Spark was a common enough survival spell, mostly used for campfires and lanterns and the like; Enamor was uncommon and of a more…specific sort of utility. Heal, my familiar insisted, was an incredibly rare and powerful spell which had no business being in the same collection as the others.

“Same places you get the Blessings in the first place, mostly,” Biribo answered. “That’s the main reason Blessed tend to keep going off adventuring. That’s the kinda stuff you gotta do to get new spells and artifacts.”

“Okay.” I made the fire slime crawl back down. They didn’t move quickly and when I wasn’t using Tame Beast to exert my will directly, they just sort of burbled around, like the glowing pink slime nearby was doing since I wasn’t paying it any attention. “So for most people, Blessings are mutually exclusive. You get one, and that’s all you get.”

“Bingo—that’s for everybody except the Hero and the Dark Lord. You two have all three Blessings, plus an extra gift from your patron goddess.”

“Right, spell combination…” Which I’d already been practicing with while listening to Biribo talk. Combining Spark with Summon Slime resulted in a slime that was perpetually on fire; combining Heal with it summoned a bright pink slime which glowed like my Heal spell, and presumably had healing properties though I had refrained from injuring myself to test that. “Hm. Any idea what extra power Yoshi got?”

“No tellin’, boss. If he’s smart, you won’t find out until it’s too late.”

As ominous as that phrasing was, Yoshi did not strike me as the cunning type. “I guess it’d be asking way too much for Virya to give her champion a helping hand against the Hero, since she’s kidnapped me to this medieval shithole and all…”

I turned my attention back to experimenting with spell combination. I had the trick down of summoning a spell in my mind without firing it off, and then adding others, but apparently I couldn’t just jam any old spell together any way I wanted. When I worked at it, the glowing symbols I could see in my mind’s eye would shift and rearrange themselves in response to my will, but there was apparently an underlying logic to it that I didn’t understand. Spells didn’t all fit together, or only in certain ways, and since I couldn’t actually read any of the magical notation I was working completely blind. Basically I was trying to code software in a programming language I didn’t know, while also being a displaced musician who knew fuck all about coding to begin with.

While trying different combinations of my very few spells and mostly getting no results, I kept up absentmindedly with Biribo’s conversation.

“Not to nitpick, boss, but Virya’s already leaned on the scales a lot for you. I wouldn’t complain, if I was you.”

“Oh, please. Leaned how, exactly?”

“Simple: that Heal spell. That is a major piece of magic that had no business being in that peddler’s basic collection.”

“Pff. If the Goddess of Evil wanted to give the Dark Lord an extra piece of magic, why the hell would she pick Heal?”

“Seriously? To keep your ass alive while you’re getting your feet under you. Plus, and you may wanna pay attention to this part because it’s important, there are consequences if she’s caught cheating, so it’s much smarter for her not to give you something destructive and attention-getting. The goddesses are supposed to be hands-off with the Hero and the Dark Lord. Rules of the game. If Yoshi or Sanora catch Virya giving you any special treatment, then Sanora gets a free move. Heal is a lot less likely to draw their notice than Asteroid Strike.”

That broke my concentration; the half-combined spells I was trying to mash together flickered out and the tamed fire slime started wandering off without my attention.

“A…free move? Like what, exactly?”

“She’s not allowed to kill you, but there’s a lot you can live through, boss.”

“Hm. Is Heal really that big a deal?”

“Lemme put it this way, boss. If someone Blessed with Magic decided to specialize in healing, they might start with, say Close Laceration or Numb Pain. As they exercised their Blessing, got more spells and gained the power to use ‘em, they could add stuff like Antivenom, Suppress Fever, Set Bone, Reconstitute—”

“Okay, I get it. There are a lot of different healing spells.”

“Most of ‘em very specific. A healing-specialized sorcerer is basically just a doctor with low overhead; they’ll have a bunch of different options to treat various medical issues, just like practicing medicine the hard way. What you’ve got is the absolute pinnacle of all healing magic. The ability to heal any injury or disease, instantly, with no effort. Boss, kingdoms would go to war to control a sorcerer who could do that. There is no way that scroll just happened to be in the possession of some rando who was trying to peddle basic beginner spells to bandits out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I see,” I murmured, activating the magic again. It made sense when he put it like that, but I still couldn’t find it in me to be grateful to Virya. Her boredom and selfishness was the reason I’d been plucked out of my life and dumped here; as far as I was concerned, we wouldn’t be square until I’d used Immolate on her a few times. “Wait, does this mean Sanora will try to cheat, too?”

“As long as it’s not where you or Virya can see? Absolutely. They both do, it’s why they’ve got that rule.”

“So much for being the Goddess of Good.”

“It’s all a game to them, boss. Good and evil are just words to anybody who’s got any amount of control over the world. I don’t think those are gonna fit together. What’re you trying to do?”

“Not trying to do anything, just getting a feel for it.” I had been attempting to connect Enamor and Spirit Bond at that point, which I was pretty sure wouldn’t even do anything useful if it worked; I was only still poking at it because I had the frustrating feeling that they were close to connecting and I was missing something. As I pushed them together repeatedly, the luminous sigils of magic kept shifting around as if they were trying to connect and couldn’t quite find a way. If I could just understand how, it could help me create actually helpful spells once I found some more scrolls… “So you can see my half-formed spells, huh?”

“Well, I am your familiar. Don’t worry, it’s just you and me. Anybody else watching won’t be able to see it.”

“Can you read this gobbledygook? It would help a lot if I knew what these symbols meant. I thought I should be able to speak every language?”

“Uh, sorry, boss, but the foundational code that makes reality work isn’t on that list. I kinda figure the goddesses don’t want you messing around with that.”

“Typical.”

“Hum. Think about it in terms of what they do, and the limitations on ‘em. Enamor only works on people you’re sexually attracted to and has a very specific and limited result. Spirit Bond only works on monsters but results in a more general sharing of magic.”

“I see, I see…you’re right, they’re both connecting sort of spells, just with very different rules. Similar, but not compatible.”

“Exactly!”

“Here’s a thought…”

It was hard, adding a third spell to the mix; my concentration was stretched to the limit to focus on all three at once. I suspected three was going to be the hard limit on how many spells I could mix into a single combo. Already the strain of keeping all three active in my consciousness forced me to lose focus on what I was doing. I’d been pushing and pulling at Enamor and Spirit Bond, noting the different ways the magical sigils shifted around me when I flexed my mind at them. Now, it was all I could do to hold all three concepts in my awareness.

To my surprise, they suddenly snapped together of their own volition, as if the third component was exactly what the others had been waiting for. Blinking in shock at the sudden removal of the mental pressure, I found myself in possession of a brand new spell: Enjoin.

“Huh,” Biribo said aloud. “That’s, uh…no offense, boss, but…”

“No, you’re not wrong,” I admitted, studying the shape of it in my mind. Once it was a complete spell I could intuitively understand what it did and how, unlike when I was trying to make different spells fit together. “That’s interesting, though. It’s basically a spell with the input conditions of Enamor and the output of Spirit Bond. So…I can share magical powers…with a monster…as long as I wanna fuck it.”

“Right. You made a completely useless spell. Unless you got some serious issues, I mean, and hey, here on Team Evil we don’t judge—”

“Just shut up. What if there’s a hot girl with magic I might want to absorb? Could be useful for that.”

“Boss, the only magic people can learn is Blessings, and you’ve already got more than anybody else except the Hero.”

“Hm. What about a sexy sorceress who knows better spells than I do?”

He buzzed closer to me, peering over my shoulder as if he could read the writing on reality around me. “I’m kinda spitballin’, boss, but I don’t think it works like that. Spirit Bond shares natural magical gifts, which only certain non-human creatures have. Spells learned by a Blessing are a different category of thing.”

“Right.” I sighed, then grinned. “Okay, fine, I made a completely useless spell. Still wasn’t wasted time. I’m getting a handle on how the system works. Do you notice how Tame Beast doesn’t actually do anything in that mix? It’s like…its code was able to make the code of the other two work together across their incompatibility. So it has no conditions or output, it’s just…spare parts.”

“Well… It connected a spell that only works on people to one that only works on monsters, so I guess from a certain point of view a ‘beast’ is halfway between—” Biribo suddenly buzzed upward another meter, turning to face the front doors of the mess hall where I’d been experimenting. “Heads up, boss. Looks like mom and dad are comin’ home.”

“Right.” I carefully straightened my clothes, wishing I had something more impressive to wear than the polo shirt and slacks of my store uniform. “Here’s hoping this goes better than with the last bandits we met.”

“Long as they don’t actually succeed in killing you, boss, I don’t see how it could go worse.”

“Thanks, Biribo. Thank you for that.”

“Anytime, boss, I got your back.”

I took the time to remove the fire and healing slimes from view; having cast Tame Beast on each already, all I had to do was think at them and they obeyed. Biribo had said smarter animals would be trickier to control, but slimes were such simple creatures that connecting my mind to theirs completely overwhelmed whatever motive they had. I wondered, briefly, if I could use spell combination to add Tame Beast to Summon Slime and produce one under my control from the beginning? And if that worked on my more enhanced slimes…well, that would involve adding a third spell, which was hard, and… Wait, what if I used Spirit Bond on the magic slimes? Could I set myself on fire or acquire a healing aura? On second thought, the first one might not be a good idea.

I pushed all this aside; experimentation later. Confronting bandits now.

The layout of the mess hall said something about the culture which had built it: they had an inherent class consciousness, like most medieval societies did. The mess was divided, with most of the tables in its main open area and a raised dais with a single long table where the fort’s commander and officers would eat, lording it over the rank and file. It was up on that raised platform that I was currently carrying out my magical experiments, and now busied myself directing my new pet slimes to slither away out of sight. It was easy to find hiding places, as the bandits who’d taken over this place were more egalitarian than its original designers; most of the dais had been given over to disorganized storage, and to judge by the dust on the floor, didn’t see much use. In fact, most of the tables in the main area were equally dusty, leaving only one with a cleared area around it and dishes still strewn across. Apparently this was a small gang, no more than a handful of people.

For my purposes, that was probably for the best.

I could hear them now, voices and indeterminate sounds that might have been a scuffle, coming from the front of the hall and growing louder, though still muffled by distance and the intervening walls. The moment they opened the front door, it all became much louder—and more confusing, as the shouts and laughs and growling echoed in the cavernous space. I lurked half-behind a stack of barrels, breathing slowly in one of the old anti-stage fright exercises my piano tutor had taught me. Not that I’d had stage fright in years, but fear was fear and this was rather more urgent. These were bandits. Murdering, plundering barbarians; Kasser and Harold had killed a man just for breaking in here and tried to do the same to me, and there were just two of them.

But I wasn’t the same hapless refugee who’d been dumped in their laps. I had Heal if things went wrong, and more immediately… Immolate was almost as horrifying to watch as it probably was to be subjected to. I could definitely intimidate a few medieval thugs into submission, now. I’d have to do something appalling, but I’d had time to psych myself up to it this time. There was nothing else for it. Make my grand entrance that I’d practiced in my head, identify and combust the leader, start giving orders…it would work. It would have to, that was all.

Then they came swaggering in through the mess hall doors, and in a turn of events I should really have learned to expect by now, all my careful plans got run over by a truck and sent to another world.

There were five of the bandits. I didn’t inspect them too closely beyond identifying the apparent leader by the way the others hung back and looked to him: he was a big man, at least a head taller than me, with a coarse beard and his long hair in braids. Three of the others were carrying bundles and objects I didn’t really register, and set about laying them out on one of the tables. The leader, meanwhile, was laughing in a booming voice and casually tossed his own burden across another table.

The burden in question was a girl.

“Finally, home sweet home,” he chortled, grabbing his victim by the neck and pressing her face-down into the tabletop. She was a fighter, snarling nonstop and struggling despite having her arms bound behind her; she aimed what looked like a powerful kick at his groin, but the bandit leader twisted aside, taking the blow on his hip. In annoyance, he lifted his captive’s head up and smashed it back down, momentarily stunning her. All without seeming to even register he was in a fight. “Where the fuck are those two ass berries? See if I leave them in charge of anything again.”

“Boss, do you gotta do that where we eat?” one of his followers objected. It was a woman, I noticed with some surprise, deep-voiced and nearly as burly as the leader, but definitely female. The smallest of the bandits was half-hiding behind her, while the other two men hung back.

He just turned a leer on her. “You can stay an’ watch if you want, Goose. Don’t say I never took ya anywhere romantic.”

Then he started tugging at his captive’s clothes and I found myself stepping out into the open.

This was not how I’d planned to do this, but…fuck, I couldn’t just let this go on. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised; things like this are common enough even in the modern world and were practically routine during lawless and primitive eras. If anything, my shock at the sight just emphasized how out of my depth I was here. Still, there’s some shit that’s just not to be tolerated. Now, if only I had a plan for this and wasn’t thrown back into improvising…

“Ara, ara, ara,” I drawled, projecting as if I were on stage. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me—even the captive woman, twisting her neck to blink in my direction past the blood trickling down her forehead. And meanwhile, I found myself wishing to trip and break my neck. Really, first confrontation with the bandit gang and here I am channeling the spirit of my cranky grandmother. I was so off my game.

Still, the Omuras didn’t raise a quitter, despite what they probably think, and I’ve pushed past too many embarrassing foibles on stage to let a thing like that slow me down.

“Just who raised you, boy?” I demanded of the bandit leader, affecting a condescending tone. “Release that young lady immediately. I will not have a guest in my castle so shamefully mistreated by my own staff.”

They all continued to gape at me. Well, I can certainly carry a conversation by myself.

"I am Omura Seiji,” I proclaimed, raising my chin and putting on a smirk. “The Champion of Virya, the Dark Lord sent to subdue this land. And you lucky mongrels have the honor of being my first minions. You may bow.”