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    Luke heard someone call his name before he even finished biting into the apple.

    “Hey, Luke,” a voice said, steady footsteps crunching over the gravel.

    Within seconds a whole group emerged from the path, moving with urgency. Luke narrowed his eyes. That group never showed up without a reason, and definitely not all together. It was Haven’s core members: Eugene in front, with Miriam, Cicilia, Thiara and Gilbert close behind. Every one of them wore the same tight, restless expression, as if they had come straight from a high-pressure meeting.

    They knew, just as he did, that Jonathan was still loose somewhere nearby. The entire village had been alerted about the fugitive criminal, and his face, or rather, one of the many faces he could be wearing, was plastered all over the place, along with warnings about his shapeshifting skill.

    “Where’s Allison?” Eugene asked bluntly.

    “You’re all acting weird,” Miriam complained, crossing her arms. “We owe her. We’re supposed to be celebrating all of this together.”

    Luke tilted his head slightly, chewing slowly while he studied them.

    “We’re not Jonathan, man,” Eugene added, raising the spear in his hand. Electricity crackled across the metal, humming faintly. The others followed suit, each conjuring a distinct skill, small, quick demonstrations meant to prove they were the real ones.

    “So where is she?” Miriam pressed.

    The armor they wore caught the late afternoon light, making the Rhiannon crest shine, a dragon ready to strike. Everything about them radiated devotion. Fanaticism, even.

    Luke let out a quiet sigh.

    “If Allison hasn’t shown herself, use your brains. That’s exactly what she wants. Let her live her life and stop hunting her down.”

    “We have to stay by her side,” Miriam shot back. “We swore we’d be part of her faction. We swore it on our lives.”

    ‘They’ve turned into some kind of medieval fan club’, Artemis muttered dryly in the back of his mind.

    There were things they didn’t know, like the fact that Allison had tried to die in the tutorial. That stayed between her and Luke. No one else needed to hear that. Officially, the group had only been told about Jonathan’s attack.

    “We let Angelica die once because we weren’t with her,” Miriam said, her voice wavering with the memory. “We’re not letting that happen again.”

    Luke studied their faces, trying to decipher whether this was genuine concern or some twisted blend of guilt and misplaced devotion.

    “We just escaped a tutorial hellscape full of undead,” he replied carefully. “Allison fought a wyvern and then went toe to toe with the Midnight King. If she hasn’t come to anyone yet, she has her reasons. Maybe she wants to leave all of this behind. If you want to help, giving her space is the best thing you can do.”

    The group fell silent, each of them processing his words like they were trying to fit them into their own internal lore.

    “If you won’t help us, fine,” Eugene said at last, his expression hardening. “We’ll handle it. At least we’ll protect her until someone from her family arrives.”

    They turned and began to walk away, determination stiffening their shoulders.

    Okay, they managed to misunderstand everything even worse.

    “Go find Erza,” he called after them. “Allison should be with her. Go bother Erza and test her patience instead.”

    The five of them kept walking as if they’d just been handed a fresh divine mission. Luke knew the type well: the kind who would comb through every house in the village until they found whoever they were after. At least, he thought, they’d be doing something useful if they happened to stumble across Jonathan on the way.

    “What about me?” a voice asked behind him.

    Luke almost dropped the apple in his hands. He turned slowly, already sensing the trouble he had just invited.

    “Oh. Erza… what do you mean, you?” he asked.

    “You told them to go bother me,” Erza replied, her tone as calm as ever.

    “Told them? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    She has good ears…

    Erza walked toward him, flanked by five maids and by Anne. The maids advanced in an almost military formation, as if escorting a warborn noble; Anne, silent as always, followed a little behind, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

    “Murderer,” Erza said once she was close enough for only him to hear clearly. “I’m not going to take part in whatever you and Rhiannon are planning.”

    “I know,” Luke answered bluntly.

    “But I won’t interfere either. I don’t really care,” she added.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    And he knew honesty when he heard it from her, and right now, she meant it.

    “I came here to say goodbye. I’m leaving,” Erza said without a hint of drama.

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