Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Hero Party's (Former) Supporter (5)
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Hero, Leonhardt von Krinheim.
He was the heir to a prestigious knightly family. Top of his class at the Royal Academy. Joined the Royal Guard, proved his skills, and was promised command of the Guard one day. A prodigy through and through.
Born into noble blood, he'd lived a life without want. Always in the capital, leading in culture and technology, he'd witnessed countless breathtaking sights.
But right now...
"...Wow."
He felt like a country bumpkin fresh off the boat in the big city.
"Hop in."
His old comrade—no, their relationship was too messy to call it that anymore—gestured them into what looked like a carriage.
No horses in sight. How the hell was this massive thing supposed to move? But without a drop of mana, the ex-comrade got it rolling anyway.
The car was fast.
Faster than any horse-drawn ride, and the seats? Not a hint of buttache—just endless, heavenly cushioning.
Just as Leonhardt wondered if this was some insane artifact, he spotted dozens—no, hundreds—of identical vehicles swarming around them. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
In the gods' name, were these artifacts that commonplace?
'Maybe this is the world's capital? That would make sense...'
What loomed ahead was a forest of towers dwarfing even the grandest palaces of the Five Kingdoms.
Overwhelming. Mind-boggling.
He wasn't the only one; even Luxy, who rarely showed emotion, had her mouth hanging open a crack.
The view was straight-up absurd.
Everyone burned with questions, but no one dared speak first to their ex-comrade.
He radiated killing intent nonstop. One wrong word, and heads might roll.
Then.
"Luke. Got questions."
"...Shoot."
"Can I ask?"
"...Go ahead."
"First one. This carriage runs on mana?"
"Nope. Pure technology."
"Then just this city special?"
"Nah, cars are standard in most households. Take Midgard— even rural folks have 'em."
"...Second. This the world's capital?"
"No. Just one of many cities. Real capital's a five-hour drive. And there's no single 'world capital,' but if you mean the strongest nation, sure, one exists."
"So this country we're in..."
"Dunno about military, but economy-wise? Top 10, I think."
"...Shock."
"Still no expressions, huh."
The whole crew eavesdropping from behind froze, breaths caught.
The info was too insane.
'Everyone has a car? Just one random city? Economy top 10? What the...!?'
What kind of world was this!?
They spent ages wrestling with the unbelievable reality, minds in chaos.
"This Luke's house?"
"Don't loiter. Come in."
Luke's place looked like a high-end capital inn from outside.
But inside? Spotless, stunning—leagues beyond any inn. The awe wouldn't quit.
Then.
"Huh."
"Call 'em unwanted guests for now."
"Do it."
"Ego Weapon?"
Ego Weapon.
The stuff of legends. A tool said to possess its own ego.
Since when did Luke have one?
"You said no mana in this world. Where'd you get an Ego Weapon?"
"Not an Ego Weapon. Program... Think of it as a virtual person made from math."
"???"
Luxy and the crew looked even more lost. Luke paused, then simplified.
"Just think of the whole building as one giant Ego Weapon. Easier that way."
"The building's... an Ego Weapon?"
True to her mage curiosity, Luxy itched to poke around. But Luke added:
"Touch or break anything in this house? Consider it your funeral."
"...'Your'?"
The veiled threat—if one messed up, all paid—drew eyes to the cat-eared girl.
"...I haven't touched shit yet."
"Yet..."
Mirni, klepto and gambling addict thief.
Sprawled on the vast living room sofas and floor, wide-eyed stares darted everywhere.
But Yuseong ignored them, checking the goddess icon on his smartphone.
"You want their survival guaranteed, right?"
"Cut the act. Their sorry state says it all."
Anger had blinded him at first, but Leonhardt and crew looked downright pitiful.
The noble brat in battered mercenary leathers. Sword chipped, rusted everywhere.
The others? Same story.
Sylvia and Alicia especially.
Those two had weird germaphobia; hygiene was non-negotiable.
That snobby bitch once demanded a wet cloth mid-battle, reeking of blood. Insane.
Her letting herself go like this? Midgard hadn't been kind.
"What mess did they make?"
"...?"
"Doubt it..."
"Just reminding myself gods don't deserve courtesy."
The goddess seemed hurt, somehow.
Yuseong skipped prying into their sob story. He'd do his part, nothing more—no pity, mostly satisfaction. Straight to business.
"Goddess wants your survival. Probably means help you adapt here."
"......"
"No clue what you did in Midgard. Probably screwed up again. You're you."
Resentful glares flashed—but none spoke up—
"—I... I...!"
"......"
Wait, one did.
"I didn't commit any crimes!"
"That why you stood up? To say that?"
"Take it back, Luke! I committed no crimes! Don't treat me like a criminal!"
"Then why you fugitives?"
"Th-that's..."
"Don't care about your excuses. My job's simple: help you adapt. I'll teach basics for at least a year. World structure, common sense, survival skills, aptitudes. Everything. I'll do my best. Why? 'Cause facing you assholes daily makes me wanna puke!"
"......"
"Don't say you forgot. 'Me' and 'you' were never comrades. Worse than strangers—enemies."
"......"
"Learn hard. Get out fast. If learning from scum like me hurts your pride, leave. Won't stop you. But step out, and goddess's favor ends—no more help."
"......"
"Think on it today. Shower's there. Aram'll show usage."
"Dismissed."
"......"
Yuseong finished and bounced.
Any longer, and stress would make his hair fall out.
In the heavy silence, Mirni griped first.
"Says his piece and splits. Asshole."
"...Object when he's here."
"Nothing to object to. All true."
"Hm."
"Like he said, we're enemies. Probably hates us more than demons."
"......"
"From Pildea Village on, we already—"
"—Enough."
"...Sorry."
"Got it."
Pildea Village.
That name shut them all up.
"......"
"......"
Silence.
"......"
"Gotta eat to live, right?"
Valian, ever the shameless barbarian.
Delivery food piled up.
Mostly Chinese and Western dishes. They devoured it.
Two days starving helped, but damn, it was good!
Slurping noodles! Crispy crunch!
From jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk to chicken, pizza, pasta—you name it.
Otherworldly flavors conquered their tongues.
Better than any fine dining or royal feast.
"Luke's got a master chef on payroll."
"Agreed."
"Was he nobility back home?"
"Elves eat meat?"
"Shut up!"
Elves could eat meat.
Forest-raised, they stuck to fruits and veggies. No need for protein or fat, racially. Meat just wasn't craved.
And they thought it tasted bad.
But against spice bombs unknown to Midgard? Resistance was futile.
MSG reigned supreme, every world.
As a culinary revolution hit the living room, Yuseong juggled calls.
"Yeah, me. Find a legal way for six IDs. No questions, sending photos. Nah, think undocumented refugees. Thanks, man."
One down, more calls.
Six foreigners popped out of nowhere. No warning.
Mountain of red tape. A normie'd panic, but he had cash, skills, connections.
Hours of wrangling later, basics set. He double-checked.
"Whatever. Payment's worth it."
"Hah, casual oaths like that?"
Godly vows bound tight. Break one, and penalties even deities couldn't ignore.
"...Tch."
Such a pushover goddess.
No wonder her kingdom was the weakest of the Five.
'Toughest type for me to deal with.'
Yuseong seriously pondered if tying up with this goddess was the real mistake from the start.