Fireworks shot into the air around Centrilliam’s walls soon as the bell chimed for noon. Beginning around the North gate they slowly circled the entire city once before releasing a second synchronized volley upon returning. Bombastically bright the fireworks were colored after Illia’s flag. Crimson red with black feathers just like the soaring phoenix emblazoned on every knights chest and hung from atop the capitol’s walls.

‘I wonder what material makes black fireworks? Actually I suppose there was a dungeon producing magic gunpowder in the area not too long ago... My bad...’

After the second volley concluded cheers could be heard from within the city as the gates began to open. As the groups in front of us marched inwards to greater and greater cheers we slowly drew closer. When it was finally our turn to pass through the gates however the faces of every watchmen hardened. Gone were the friendly smiles and welcoming cheers, replaced by stern stares prepared to attack at the first sign of trouble.

Laughing from across our connection Mary said “Look at that guy on the left wall! Is he for real!? A half shaved afro? That’s hilarious!”

“Would it kill you to take this more seriously...” I groaned back as did the other nearby [Named] who were all listening in.

Audibly pouting at our reactions she murmured “I was just trying to lighten the mood... You’re all sweating like crazy. Seriously I can smell the pigeon from here.”

Her methods could have been better but I did agree with Mary’s sentiment. We needed to appear friendly not nervous. Best we can do is ignore their stares.

Riding through the cross section of the first wall I realized something I never could have from the outside. The walls were hollow! From what I could see around the gate alone several hundred canons, ballista’s, and all sorts of magic weapons were trained on the opening. Each and every one was maned by a soldier and further in I spotted what looked like entire barracks for them to sleep in.

Out of curiosity I asked aloud “Anyone know why a world of magic and flying monsters need stone walls? What’s stopping someone from flying over?”

As expected the well informed Noire replied “They are used to keep the magic barrier covering the city aloft. Once materialized thicker barriers can weigh several thousand pounds. Small scale barriers meant for one or two people are able to hover only if the caster expends extra energy to hold it aloft. The dome powered at all times by the court mages saves that extra power by resting atop the city walls.”

“But couldn’t an invading force just knock down part of the wall and cause the dome to fall down?” I asked.

“The main purpose of the barrier to protect against and deter aerial threats such as traveling wyvern packs but you aren’t wrong. Large scale barriers have expensive upkeep and can be destroyed through other means. But you could also look at things from another perspective. The only way to take down the barrier would be a head on assault of the most heavily guarded part of the city. Until the wall is down large scale magics or powerful bombs can’t damage the city at all. Keeping civilians and city structure safe as a result. Leaving such an obvious “weak point” exposed also means any enemy would focus in on destroying the wall. That makes them predictable and easier to counter.”

Soon as we were on the other side I looked up into the sky. Sure enough I could spot the occasional shimmer of mana in the air above us. Not only was the barrier being held aloft thanks to the city wall but the dome itself was constructed out of thousands upon thousands of triangular panes. Simple physics told me they worked to distribute any impacts across the dome strengthening it immensely. The feat of magic and engineering left me impressed.

“Hey Boss, first group of people up ahead.” Almar said taking me out of my thoughts.

Craning my neck around Nargacuga’s head I saw them too. Leaning out from their storefront windows were several hundred people all cheering and welcoming the groups ahead of us. I doubt they even knew exactly who they were cheering for but the atmosphere was hard not to get swept in. At least, it was....

“AAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!” An old woman screamed from her window.

“By the gods... it’s true...” A blacksmith said falling back on his arms.

“RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” Screamed a young father carrying his daughter in his arms

As we slowly marched through the streets many more similar reactions reached our ears. Men, women, children... no matter who they were the reactions were the same. Terror followed closely by either aggression or running away. Those in the aggression category scrambled to gather weapons or find reinforcements. But none attacked. Despite their desire to protect their loved ones the humans were too scared to attack.

“Master look that one’s trembling! We haven’t even done anything!” Mary laughed.

Finding the man she was making light of I realized who he was staring at. It wasn’t any of my monsters that was scaring him. It was me. The bright orange glowing body of my [Projection]. He felt he needed to defend his family from it... from me.

Staring at the shaking but still standing man I corrected her “Don’t make fun of him. That man has the confidence to stand against us despite his weakness. I know I couldn’t have done that when I was a normal human. His fear is understandable.”

Passing by the man and countless other fleeing civilians was difficult. We were doing our best to appear friendly, we came with gifts, and we weren’t using any powers. Regardless of our efforts they were terrified. All they saw when they looked at us were monsters. The same monsters that they’ve built the barrier to protect themselves from. Luckily none tried to attack us outright. Not that several weren’t gathering weapons in case a fight broke out.

With a look over my shoulder to the carriages I said through the link “Just bear with it a little more everyone. Once they get to know us things will be just like the trip here. We just have to remain calm.”

---

It took only around 20 minutes for our slow procession to reach the 4th district and Bertros Castle. During that time the civilians behind us had formed a small militia following at our heels. The royal knights led by Valentia were holding them back but their yelling could be heard regardless. Insults, screams, and general disdain filled our ears as we finally began our slow trot around the castle.

“Just 3 circles everyone. Then we drop the mounts off in the first district and can head back to get some rest. Just hold on for me.”

Up ahead I could see countless carriages belonging to nobles and dungeon masters alike. Each and every one of them had brought gifts and tribute for the king. Just from how elaborate their processions were I could tell who my fellow dungeon masters were. Some I’d been briefed on before but others I’d only heard of in passing. Regardless this was the first time I was seeing them in person.

The first I noticed were the Crabro’s, married masters of the Dungeon of Arthropods, Lewis and Arin waving excitedly at the crowds. According to Simmons they’d given him warning about Megun and Leol’s plan and were all around good people from his school days. They’d brought along with them several hundred tankards of honey visible through colored glass. Perhaps most eye catching of all though were the costumes covering their horses. On their heads were fly masks with ant shaped antennae and in between their legs flopped a false pair of insectoid legs. Best I could tell their reigns were also made up of spider threads. Although arachnid threads sort of ruined the theming for me.

“Chairman, we are in an advantageous position to ally with them. We have shared allies in the people of Brooksdam and they’ve publicly expressed interest in what we can offer. Just say the word and I’ll send an invitation.”

“Got it. We’ll do that when we have the time.”

Standing atop a wooden platform on wheels was Ringley Nelner, master of the Dungeon of Oak. The six and a half foot giant was wrapped in bear pelts with a look of absolute rage on his face. His gaze was fixed solely on my procession. Regardless of his personal feeling towards us his army of mercenaries made him one to look out for. Easily 1,000 armed men and women swarmed around his carts carrying various types of lumber.

“He might be begging for a fight but we can’t give him one. According The Reapers he was close with Leol and Megun before the war. Out of all the masters we have intel on he’s he most likely to try something. Keep an eye on him guys.”

Not one for public appearances was master of the Dungeon of Nimbus Claire Remwell. Soon as I’d heard about a dungeon of rain and clouds I’d been curious as to what resources were harvested from her monsters. Even looking at her procession though I couldn’t figure it out. All I saw were jars filled with rainwater and gemstones from which fog was leaking out. Claire herself rode atop a seemingly solid cloud but closer inspection revealed wooden wheels visible beneath her ride.

‘Don’t know much about her and The Reapers couldn’t figure much out either. Only publicly available information is that she took over for her parents 12 years ago and fought a dungeon war against the Dungeon of Oak. That fight was started by Ringley meaning she managed to push him back. Could prove to be a useful ally.’

Not far behind Claire was the incredibly bored looking Jastog Everly, master of the Dungeon of Crustaceans and hobbyist chef. Intel says he used to be an adventurer who wound up conquering a dungeon of his own. Nowadays though the old man seemingly couldn’t be bothered to put on appearances. His “procession” was little more than cooked dishes and monster parts, all ordinarily available items the public could buy. He himself was falling asleep on the inside of his carriage. In a way I admired his “I’m old and I don’t give a shit” attitude.

“Hey Almar, you might get along with that guy. When he was an adventurer he lost that eye to Makara from the Dungeon of Fairies. Who knows he might be grateful you killed her for good.”

“I don’t know... I have a feeling he doesn’t care much for royalty.”

Perhaps the flashiest of all the masters was Drahok, master of the Dungeon of Minerals and only non-human master in Illia. An incredibly well renowned craftsmen Drahok had easily put the most effort into his procession. Each and every carriage had been sculpted out of an enormous diamond with intricately carved paintings depicting the history of Illia across every inch. The dwarven man himself was nowhere to be seen but he could be heard. Within his hollowed gemstone carriage the sound of hammer blows echoed. Revealing that a fully functional private forge had been installed for the trip.

“One of our main goals in coming out here is recruiting craftsmen to teach our Oni. If we can track him down maybe Drahok has some people he could lend out? Hell if we give him the chance to work with never before seen materials he may come himself.”

“Craftsmen are always working together and trading ideas Milord. If we have anything that interests him I see no reason he’d object. Although popular as the Dungeon of Minerals is I doubt we could offer Rhilos alone. Someone like him should respond well to a give and take approach.”

Last of the masters was the isolated Calla Banely, master of the Dungeon of Poison. I say isolated since no one was within 300 feet of her. Except for one young man I’d never seen before but could assume was her apprentice. The one she’d been training to one day enslave me... He was wearing very high class frilly clothing, betraying his noble status, and a metallic facial covering with what appeared to be an air vent on either side. He was the very embodiment of a boy raised with money. Calla on the other hand looked as though she’d been cursed. Deep sunken eyes, torn black clothing wrapped around her body like bandages, pale skin, and dark purple hair covered in caustic burns.

The Dungeon of Poison’s procession actually caught my eye more than most. From far away it seemed quite similar to the Crabro’s honey tankards. Except the contents of Calla’s jars were obviously less sweet. Even from within their glass containers I could see the contents bubbling, smoking, or even pulsing with energy. Just what each of the different poisons could do was anyone’s guess.

“Sir, Milena actually uncovered some info on that dungeon’s exports. Believe it or not they’re specialty is healing potions. Not too dissimilar to the Biting Brew the Swarming Slime drops those poisons devour other foreign toxins within the body.”

“Like antivenoms? I guess in a world of monsters and mages with poison magic the demand for those would be higher.”

“Not just those either sir. Many of the Dungeon of Poison’s potions can grant whoever drinks them great temporary power. Compared to what a standard alchemist can make their potions are beyond compare. While gathering information for this event I came across one report where a lone female warrior defended a bridge from over 200 bandits thanks to the potions she drank. Sadly she then died from the aftereffects but that temporary boost in power helped her save countless lives. There are even poison potions that can be used for offense. One I’m particularly interested in procuring gives off fumes that completely blind any who breathe them in. Permanently.”

Compared to the dungeon masters and ourselves not many other processions left much of an impression. Standard horses and soldiers marching in formation couldn’t really compare to monsters, floating clouds, or moving pieces of diamond art. Not that I wouldn’t trade them for the extra attention in an instant.

It was just when we finished our first circle around the castle the mood of the crowd started to change. Those from the southern gate were still being held back by Valentia but those who’d just arrived in the 4th district were joining in on the outrage. As they grew in strength their confidence swelled and as we began our second circle around the castle their fearful screams became jeering taunts.

“GET OUT! YOU AREN’T HUMAN!”

“WE WON’T LET YOU KILL US!”

“GO BACK TO YOUR HOLE IN THE GROUND!”

We endured the taunts as best we could but more than once I had to look away or reassure someone so they wouldn’t lash out. Mulan in particular almost made a show of force when the insults became aimed at me.

“YOU JUST HIDE BEHIND YOUR MONSTERS!”

“COWARD!”

“HOW MANY HAVE YOU KILLED!?”

Doing my best to ignore the insults I already hurl at myself on a daily basis I happened to glance towards Ringley. He was grinning now. The rage on his face had been replaced with a cold sneer aimed squarely at me. But why? Looking out towards the crows I realized what was riling them up. Dozens of Ringley’s mercenaries had joined the mob and were yelling profanities to provoke them further.

‘The Iliad hasn’t even begun yet and he’s already going after me? But what am I supposed to do other than keep marching? We just need to endu- ‘

“THUNK”

Taking me out of my thoughts was a flaring pain on the side of my head. It had been months since the last time I’d felt pain so it took me a moment to understand what had happened. Looking to the ground beside me I saw a small rock, hardly larger than a pebble, lying beside Nargacuga’s arm. Following the trajectory I found a young kid standing in front of me and my mount. He couldn’t have been older than 12 with short blue hair and green eyes filled with tears.

And as he stood before my monstrous mount and my wound thumped with pain the world stopped.