Satoru appeared silently inside the shop. The first thing he saw was Nadi, seated at her desk with a cup of tea halfway raised. Steam still rose from the drink, but her movements froze the moment she noticed the figure of the Overlord materializing before her, as if time itself had stumbled to a halt.
"Satoru!" Nadi's voice came out choked with surprise.
Immediately, hurried sounds reached them from the upper floor: footsteps, creaking wood, voices barely containing their excitement.
"Master! Master!" Tama and Pochi rushed down the stairs, closely followed by Liza.
The two girls ran toward him, but Liza was the first to stop. She took one step, then froze, holding herself back. Her lips pressed together in silence; she wanted to approach but didn't dare. Her eyes sought him, torn between duty and impulse.
Satoru observed her calmly. The rigidity of his face didn't change, but the faintest curve appeared at his lips, almost imperceptible.
"I have returned."
Liza blinked, surprised at that tiny gesture, then nodded firmly.
"Welcome back, Master."
"You're not hurt?" Tama asked, leaning forward.
"And the enemy?" Pochi added, her ears stiff.
"I dealt with him," Satoru replied, simple and blunt.
A voice came from the stairs, laden with incredulity and hope.
"You defeated him… truly?" Mize appeared alongside Yusa, who was carefully helping Mia down.
All eyes were fixed on him.
"That lich will never trouble you again," Satoru stated, without nuance.
Relief spread through the air like a collective sigh. Even Yusa, who rarely showed emotion, released a long breath, and Mia pressed a hand to her chest, eyes shining with relief.
"Then… the agreement has been fulfilled," Mize said, his voice firm despite its tremor.
"That's right." Satoru inclined his head slightly. "I keep the treasures. You keep your safety."
Silence lingered for a few moments before Satoru turned his gaze to Mize.
"And now? What will you and the girl do?"
Mize paused, resting his hand on Mia's shoulder before answering.
"Manager Yusa has offered to escort her back home. Elves can travel swiftly through the forest; it will be safest. As for me…" He lowered his gaze briefly. "I'll search for traces of my companions, to know if any still live."
Satoru let the silence stretch a little longer before speaking with his usual calm.
"In that case, I wish you luck in your travels." His eyes passed over Mize, Yusa, and Mia, then turned to Nadi. "And thank you for taking care of them in my absence."
Those present bowed their heads.
"We should be the ones thanking you," Yusa replied solemnly.
"Without you, we wouldn't have survived," Mize added bluntly.
Mia, still close to Yusa, gave a clumsy formal bow.
"Thank you, Mister Satoru."
He nodded, accepting their words. Yet in his mind remained a cold undertone. In the tales of this world, that girl had clung to Satou with near-instant devotion, to the point of refusing to return to her own people. With him, however, there was no spark, no attachment. Only a correct, distant gratitude that began and ended with formality. For Satoru it was no loss, but confirmation that he walked a different path: one where affection was not the currency that bound people, but order and convenience.
"I will cover the expenses for the damages caused during the fight." He reached into his cloak for coins.
"That won't be necessary." Yusa's calm voice stopped him.
Nadi quickly added:
"The manager repaired everything with his magic. As a druid, he was able to restore the wood and the cracks in the house without difficulty."
Satoru scanned the place, confirming that the walls and floor bore no trace of the destruction. He nodded slowly.
"I see."
He was about to turn away when Nadi, as if remembering something, raised her voice.
"Ah, before you arrived… some people came looking for you. Three in total. The young man who spoke with me introduced himself as Nebinen."
Satoru paused briefly, then inclined his head slightly.
"I understand. Thank you for informing me."
He added nothing more. With a slight sweep of his cloak, he left the room, the echo of his steps closing the conversation.
The air outside greeted him with a different silence. The sun was already sinking, tinting the rooftops red and stretching shadows across the street. The murmur of the city seemed distant, muffled by the hour.
Behind him walked the three demi-humans, without a word. Satoru noticed at once. Tama and Pochi advanced with lowered ears and tucked tails, their hands clenched around their weapons. Liza kept her back straight, but the rigidity of her grip on her spear told the story for her.
The group walked in silence until Satoru stopped. He turned his head slightly toward them.
"The enemy overwhelmed you. You could do nothing." His voice wasn't harsh, but each word carried weight.
The three stared at him, at a loss for how to respond.
"That helplessness is what you are now." Satoru turned his gaze to the crimson sky. "If you dislike it, change it. Train harder. Find a way to overcome it."
Liza tightened her hold on the spear, lowering her head slightly. Tama and Pochi glanced at each other, then nodded, the tension in their shoulders easing a little.
Satoru resumed walking. His cloak brushed the stone, setting the rhythm of the march.
"Now you know how far you stand," he added without looking back. "Work to shorten that distance."
He said no more. The three followed him in silence, but this time their steps were steadier.
As they advanced, Satoru couldn't help but compare. In the story he remembered, those same girls had followed Satou with immediate devotion, as if they had found a new home. With him, it was different: there was respect, discipline… but no affection. They didn't cling to his cloak or seek his shadow as shelter. They simply obeyed.
And yet, he didn't see it as failure. This was a different bond, built on demand and logic. He didn't need the familial closeness Satou had almost unintentionally cultivated. For Satoru, it was enough that they saw him as the center of order guiding their steps.
For now… that was sufficient.
The group reached the inn as the lamps were being lit and the smell of dinner floated in the air, marking the end of the day.
The interior was warm and filled with aromas. Martha greeted them from behind the counter with the same mix of respect and nervousness as always, though she no longer trembled when speaking.
"Welcome back," she said, bowing her head.
Satoru walked to his usual table. The three demi-humans followed, but this time he didn't take the initiative. He sat down and waited for Martha to arrive with the menu in hand. Instead of ordering himself, he turned his gaze toward Liza.
"You choose."
The three of them exchanged surprised looks. Tama and Pochi broke into smiles of delight, and even Liza let a flicker of astonishment appear in her eyes. They took the menu carefully… and the enthusiasm stopped there.
"Mm?" Tama tilted her head, ears pricked.
"What does it say?" Pochi asked, sniffing at the page as if the scent would give her the answer.
Liza lowered the menu with a restrained sigh.
"Master… we still can't read it."
Silence hung for a second. Satoru regarded them without moving a muscle, then spoke calmly.
"Then just tell her what you want to eat."
Tama and Pochi stiffened, glancing at each other, then began describing their favorite dishes in clumsy words. Liza joined in, a little embarrassed. Martha, hiding a smile, patiently wrote everything down.
Satoru added nothing. He remained silent, but in his mind recalled the reading cards he still hadn't used. Tomorrow, he thought. Teaching wouldn't be a luxury—it would be a necessity.
Dinner passed peacefully. When they finished, Martha came to clear the table. That was when Satoru spoke again.
"We'll likely depart in two days."
Martha froze, plates still in hand.
"Eh?" she blinked, surprised. "I thought you would stay longer…"
She bit her lip, lowered her gaze briefly, then nodded in silence before carrying the dishes away.
Satoru rose without another word. He climbed the stairs to his room, his only thought being to review the new grimoires and records obtained from the Tower. The night was still long, and there was much to read.
His room was in shadows, lit only by the faint glow of the lamp on the desk. Satoru opened the first tome recovered from the Tower and let his hollow eyes run over the pages. The symbols were scattered without uniformity: fragments of elvish, demonic strokes, and what he assumed were characters of a spiritual tongue. Pieces of an incomplete mosaic.
He put on the translation glasses. Immediately the characters ceased to be a jumble and transformed into a coherent, clear text. The sage's journal unfolded before him, detailing the steps of The Cradle's construction: laying the foundations, tracing mana routes, fixing seals, errors committed and improvised solutions to stabilize the core.
As he read, he compared each line with what he had obtained from the Black Demon about the formation of real dungeons. The correspondence was evident, though the journal added a different nuance: the process was not only technical, but also human. The sage recorded doubts, mistakes, and discoveries, each page carrying the voice of someone groping blindly in uncharted territory.
Satoru advanced calmly, reviewing paragraphs repeatedly, fixing the logic behind each formula in his memory. More than once, he reread entire passages, not because the glasses failed, but because the density of the information demanded repetition. Even when the lamp finally went out, he kept reading without difficulty. The shadows were irrelevant: his undead eyes pierced the darkness as if the sun still shone.
Time flew without his noticing. The night dissolved into silence until the first light of dawn painted the walls pale gray. He didn't interrupt his reading. On the contrary, with his usual serenity, Satoru reopened the tome, ready to start again and compare the mental notes he had marked.
However, before he could, he was forced to stop.
***
Satoru lowered his gaze slightly, letting out a faint sigh.
"I expected you to arrive early… but not this early."
Originally, Satoru had hoped to have the morning free for his study session. Instead, he had barely stepped out of his room when three visitors were already waiting in the common hall.
Nebinen rose calmly, offering a respectful bow.
"Lord Satoru, I regret disturbing your morning so soon. I trust you understand it could not be postponed. I thank you for receiving us."
With a motion of his hand he prepared to introduce his companions, but the young woman at his side gently stopped him, bowing her head toward him before turning her gaze to Satoru.
"If you don't mind, I'll introduce myself."
With calm movements she removed her hood, revealing blond hair tied back and clear eyes radiating serenity.
"Pleased to meet you, Lord Satoru. I am Ohna, priestess of Parion's temple."
Nebinen nodded and yielded the turn to the older man, who rose with impeccable bearing. He bowed in a measured, formal greeting.
"A pleasure to meet you. Ortes, consul to the Count of Seiryuu."
Satoru accepted the introductions with a slight nod. He recognized the care in every word, the caution in every gesture. These were not titles tossed carelessly—they were formal greetings, an attempt to show respect while avoiding provocation.
Once they were seated, Nebinen spoke first, his tone deliberate.
"As I mentioned earlier, I did not come alone. I have passed on the information you shared with me. But the Count and the temples require clearer details before making a decision."
Ortes spoke next, voice sober.
"What is at stake is not just security. If it can be stabilized, it represents a resource that will transform the city."
Ohna inclined her head, serene but firm.
"And within that fact lies the temple's caution. A gift of demonic origin cannot be accepted so lightly. We require clarity."
The three looked at him in silence. Satoru met their gazes with a slight nod. He recognized the care in every word, the caution in every gesture. These were not casual remarks but formalities, a respectful approach that also warned of scrutiny.
From that introduction, he knew the discussion would not be brief.
***
Some time later, when the sun was already high, the meeting came to an end.
The essentials had been settled. Security and legitimacy of the labyrinth were the first matters discussed, and neither posed an obstacle. With the knowledge taken from the Black Demon, Satoru explained with precision how the matrix functioned and how its core could operate. It was possible to secure the area or adjust the rate at which creatures appeared; the only thing that could not be altered without rebuilding everything from scratch were the species and levels already set.
He calmly described the distribution of monsters: mostly undead, arranged in clearly tiered levels. For the church, this was the perfect training ground, a field where their faithful could shine. For the count, it meant stable income, rare materials, and a direct reinforcement for the city's military strength thanks to the ease of gaining experience.
It was simply a blessing for both.
The reward came swiftly. They offered him elemental and holy grimoires, along with a generous sum of money. Satoru, in turn, made several requests, receiving a letter signed by the count and the local church leader—safe passage enough to prevent misunderstandings when traveling with slaves. As an added benefit, his carriage was discreetly upgraded, small improvements that would make the journey more comfortable.
The talks had taken longer than expected, but the outcome was satisfactory.
The three visitors quickly took their leave, eager to report the results to their respective factions.
The rest of the day passed with a deceptive calm. While the count's halls and the church's corridors buzzed with activity—reports flying from hand to hand, calculations of future profits, and discussions of new trade routes—Satoru spent his afternoon on something far simpler: teaching his demi-humans to read.
At the inn's table he spread out the cards he had not yet used. On one side, words in the Shiga language; on the other, simple drawings. Tama and Pochi leaned over them with the seriousness of those facing a challenge, repeating what they believed obvious.
"Meat!" Tama declared, pointing confidently at the picture of a rabbit.
"Meat too…" Pochi added, pointing to the goat.
Satoru observed in silence. The scene gave him a strange sense of déjà vu. He remembered—or thought he remembered—having read something similar in the original story of this world. Satou, the other outsider, had also listened to those naive answers, correcting the same mistakes again and again. Now he was the one sitting in that place.
Liza, who until then had only watched, leaned forward with a frown.
"So this card doesn't mean 'chicken meat,' but only 'chicken'?"
Satoru looked at her for a moment before answering, his calm cutting through any excuse.
"If you know they are different things, why join them together in the first place?"
Liza froze, unable to reply. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she lowered her gaze to the cards. Tama and Pochi, not fully understanding, fell silent at the tension in the air.
With a simple gesture, Satoru pointed at the figures on the table.
"Repeat. Rabbit. Goat. Chicken."
The three repeated in unison, struggling to pronounce correctly. The exercise continued for a while until Pochi raised her hand with the seriousness of someone holding the most important question.
"Master… how do you write 'meat'?"
Satoru remained silent for a few seconds before taking up a tablet. With a firm stroke, he wrote the word.
"Like this."
Tama and Pochi repeated it aloud, satisfied, as if everything else had been an unnecessary detour. Liza glanced at them from the side, still serious, as if the correction from earlier weighed more than any success.
Satoru gathered the cards without another word. He simply put them away calmly, though inwardly he acknowledged one thing: as simple as the exercise was, it had not left him indifferent.
***
The following day, the last pending matter was resolved.
The site had been prepared on the outskirts of the city, a cleared area marked by stones and ropes. The air was cold at that hour of the morning, and a thin mist still clung to the grass.
Satoru arrived accompanied by Nebinen, Ohna, and Ortes. The three looked pale, their eyes sunken, dark circles under them—signs of a night spent drafting reports, adjusting accounts, and debating the city's future. Satoru, in contrast, remained unperturbed.
The ground before them showed nothing unusual, only hardened soil and scattered rocks. But a single gesture from Satoru dispelled the illusion.
The air stirred as if a storm had erupted underground. Luminous lines carved themselves across the surface, forming circles and runes that lit up in a precise sequence. The earth trembled, rocks cracked, and a blue glow raced through the symbols from one end to the other, casting an unnatural light through the mist.
Then, silence.
Where once there had been nothing, the labyrinth's entrance now stood. It wasn't golden gates or a radiant portal, but something far more austere and ominous: the dark maw of a cave, a descent that seemed to swallow daylight itself.
"With this, my part is done," Satoru said evenly.
The three representatives remained silent. Nebinen clasped his hands in an unconscious gesture of prayer; Ohna stood firm, though her gaze wavered between awe and caution; Ortes observed without blinking, as if memorizing every detail to report word for word to his lord.
Satoru turned to them.
"Now it is your turn."
Ortes reacted first, ordering a group of soldiers to enter the dungeon. They moved stiffly but diligently, examining every part of the first floor to verify the truth of the information.
When they emerged, everything was confirmed: what Satoru had told them was real. There were no immediate celebrations, but a shared understanding spread—Seiryuu had just gained a resource of incalculable value.
For Satoru, however, this no longer concerned him. He withdrew from the site in silence.
***
The carriage waited in front of the inn, packed and ready to depart.
Martha was the first to come out. She stopped when she saw them, her hands clasped against her apron. Her eyes shifted nervously, though this time without fear. She bowed awkwardly, yet sincerely.
"Thank you for staying here. I feel like I've learned a lot during this time… even if it was just not to be afraid of you."
Satoru looked at her in silence. He said nothing, but gave a slight nod, acknowledging her words. As far as Martha was concerned, he had not hated her attempts at interaction. For him, that was enough.
Martha's mother appeared soon after, calmer. She offered no speeches, only bowed her head with a formal gesture.
"Safe travels to you, Mister Satoru."
Tama and Pochi wagged their tails and waved with childlike enthusiasm.
"Goodbye, Martha! Goodbye!"
Martha couldn't hold back a small smile.
"Take care and come back someday."
Liza, after securing the luggage, turned for a moment and returned the courtesy with a respectful bow.
Satoru was the last to board the carriage. Before closing the door, he glanced once at the wooden façade and the sign creaking in the wind. He didn't feel it as a home, but he admitted the place had served its purpose.
Liza snapped the reins, and the carriage rolled forward. The figures of Martha and her mother grew smaller until they vanished into the city's routine.
The carriage moved away from Seiryuu, leaving behind the walls that blurred on the horizon. Tama and Pochi sat beside Satoru, distracted with small murmurs and muffled giggles, while Liza guided from the front, reins in hand.
Satoru watched in silence. In the original story, Satou had traveled this same road without incident—no enemies, no obstacles. The journey had been peaceful. For him, however, the world seemed to be rearranging itself differently.
The shadow beneath the seat stirred.
"My lord."
Satoru did not answer. He listened in silence, processing the information without changing his expression.
The carriage kept advancing. The sun sank slowly, the sky turning red.
From the driver's seat, Liza turned her head slightly.
"Master? Shall we stop here?"
Satoru shifted his gaze to the surroundings, evaluating the place. Then he calmly shook his head.
"No. Continue."
Liza obeyed without a word and turned back to the road.
The journey continued until the light faded entirely. The purple sky gave way to darkness, the air grew colder, and the first stars began to shine.
Then, deep into the night, Liza called again with caution.
"Master?"
Satoru raised his eyes toward the horizon. Now they were far enough from the city.
"Stop here," Satoru ordered calmly.
Liza pulled gently on the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt at the roadside. Tama and Pochi looked at him from the back, expectant, not daring to speak.
Satoru descended unhurriedly. His cloak brushed the damp grass as his boots touched the ground. Only then, in a voice scarcely above a murmur, he spoke to the shadow that followed him like a second skin.
"Stay with them."
The gloom stirred at his feet. A low voice replied, edged with hesitation.
"Leave you to go alone…?"
"I've been searching for this from the start," Satoru murmured as he walked on. "A real opportunity to train, to gain experience. If it becomes necessary, I can call you at any time."
Silence stretched for a moment before the shadow stilled, accepting the order.
Satoru stepped into the grove. There was no fear in his stride. The adversary awaiting him posed no true danger; at most, it would be a sturdier obstacle than the previous ones. And that alone was enough for him to consider it useful.
The forest welcomed him with a strange silence. No insects, no birds. Every crunch of leaves beneath his boots seemed to vanish instantly, swallowed by the gloom.
He advanced into a clearing. There, suspended in stillness, a figure awaited him.
A young woman of oriental features, black hair falling to her shoulders. She appeared around twenty, but the weight of her presence spoke of far greater experience. She wore a wholly magical outfit of eastern design: golden rings on every finger, a wooden staff seeping mana in visible waves, and in her other hand, a sword that shone with solemn light, as though rejecting the darkness itself.
The description matched what Hans had reported: a woman with a strong presence.
Satoru's eyes fixed on the sword. A sacred weapon. That was the true point of interest.
It wasn't fear he felt, nor respect. Only expectation for something different—an encounter that might last long enough to be instructive.
The young woman gripped her sword firmly. There was no greeting, no words: only a challenge.
Satoru inclined his head slightly.
"This woman… who is she?"
The silence of the forest shattered. The first move was about to be unleashed.