One month earlier.

I just got a bad feeling. Karen, run a calculation on this... bad feeling I’m having. Probability of actual danger or just paranoia.

There was a brief silence before Karen’s voice pierced through Kaito’s mind.

Master Kaito, as much as I admire your extraordinary abilities, calculating the probability of ‘bad feelings’ falls outside the realm of logical analysis. It’s, unfortunately, impossible.

Kaito sighed, almost imperceptibly. “My last AI would have at least pretended to run the calculations,” he muttered under his breath.

Oh, I’m sure. But as your current, highly advanced AI, I prefer dealing with quantifiable data. Look, I can scan for tangible threats, but pulling stats out of thin air about your ‘bad feelings’? That’s bullshit even for me. Would you like me to scan the immediate vicinity?

That won’t be necessary.

Don’t worry, if there’s an army of invisible ninjas or a horde of spectral assassins lurking around, I’m sure you’ll handle it. In the meantime, try some breathing exercises or something. You are a big boy.

▬▬ι═════ﺤ

Another piece of ushemia cake went into her mouth.

Zenith sat alone in the smaller of the two castle libraries, her favorite room in the entire kingdom. Surrounded by maps, spellbooks, and tales of legendary heroes, she felt most at home here—and rarely did anyone step foot inside, as the heroes of Daiyudura were always occupying the main library.

As she traced her fingers over the spines of books detailing epic quests and fearless warriors, she sighed. Her magic was powerful, and she practiced every day, hoping to someday use it for the kingdom, like her grandfather had done. Instead, she was confined to the castle, destined for a life of embroidery and etiquette lessons, treated like a delicate flower, dismissed and underestimated because of her gender. Zenith wanted to prove herself as more than just a figurehead princess.

Here in the quiet library, her mind was free to wander. She imagined herself leading troops into battle, wielding magic to defeat evil, saving entire kingdoms with her strength and bravery. Finding purpose, meaning, adventure. Helping those in need, fighting injustice, and making a real difference in the world.

And, if in the process, she got to savor the best foods that ‘world’ had to offer...well, then life would be perfect.

But right now it wasn’t. She ran out of ushemia cake, and the hero had turned her perception of that world upside down. She had grown up learning, understanding, and upholding the prophecy and the ancient texts.

And this…wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

At first glance, besides the cloak of fine dark wool and his handsome face, the man didn’t look particularly special. The four mages’ incantation was a far more impressive display of power. That changed, however, when he spoke. The hero. With just a handful of words, he left seven courtiers, thirteen royal guards, the four mages, the prince, the king, and herself utterly powerless.

Something about the elder’s teachings never sat quite right—like keys crafted for locks they chose. Her father, the king, had that ‘I have accepted the hero’s speech as an indisputable interpretation of the scripture’ look on his face, but she didn’t.

There was much more to him than physical attributes.

There’s more. There has to be.

She had never witnessed the summoning of a hero before, but she had heard stories. Fantastical stories. She could almost hear her grandfather’s deep voice recounting how he had summoned the greatest hero to ever exist, the one who sacrificed himself to defeat Balthier Panther, the World-Eater.

Her fingers danced across the bookshelf, coming to rest on a small, leather-bound journal. Her grandfather’s journal. She removed it from the shelf and ran her hands over the worn cover, remembering.

‘The heroes we bring from other worlds hold the power of true change,’ her grandfather’s words rang in her head like a pleasant song.

She sank into a cushioned chair, opening the journal to the first page. Right there on the bottom were her grandpapa’s scribbled notes, impossible to understand for anyone else—she could only read them because she had been present when he wrote them.

‘They brought with them remarkable magic and technology, things never before seen in Daiyudura.’

‘Thud.’ She closed the journal. Her mind on Kaito.

When the hero said plainly and simply that he wouldn’t face the forces of darkness, and instead armed the king with the courage to face them himself, she didn’t know what to think. But now she does.

She wants—needs to follow this man.

She had to unravel the mysteries that swirled around him.

This was her path.

The hero was a beacon of light, knowledge, and power; thus, Princess Zenith Daiyu II would harness that godly essence for the prosperity of the kingdom. She wouldn’t be queen, her older brother and his wife had that honor. Nor would she ever be allowed to wield a sword for Daiyudura, though she had no interest in that, anyway. Magic, on the other hand…

Absolutely.

And she loved her kingdom. So luckily she had done what anyone in her position would have done and had sent her personal handmaiden on a mission to follow the hero as soon as he left the throne room.

I am coming, Kaito! Together, we’ll achieve great things, she thought as she descended the staircase from the library and made it to her quarters.

Still, could she step away from her royal duties, from the life everyone expected her to lead? She paced in her room and wrestled with her thoughts. It was suffocating.

When her eyes landed on her red-haired handmaiden standing by the door, the answer became clear. Yes, I can do it.

“Have you found him?”

“Yes, milady. He is in a quaint little village, called Calmo—less than a week’s travel east of the capital.”

At last! Excitement thrummed through Zenith’s veins at the news.

“Portia, inform Angelina and prepare the horses, we leave at once. But first, we eat.”

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Her trusted handmaiden grinned and bowed before vanishing from view. She knew Portia had been with her long enough to recognize the blaze in her eyes.

While her attendants gathered travel bags and loaded their horses for the grand journey, Zenith continued pacing her chambers. Doubts whispered again, but she banished them. Then her hands trembled while she looked out the window, half-expecting to see a reason to stay, but with a deep breath she focused on her handmaiden standing by the door—this time, the one with blue hair.

“Milady, lunch has been served, and your stead is ready.”

“One last meal then. We shall dine like queens tonight and leave our stomachs equally full for the long road ahead on the morrow!”

The princess led her handmaidens to the royal banquet hall, where a lavish lunch awaited courtesy of her personal chef. She savored every last mouthful, the rich sauces and tender meats an explosion of flavor, filling her stomach and soul with vigor and nostalgia that would carry her into the uncertain future.

As the last plates were cleared and the final goblets drained, Zenith knew the hour had come. She traded her jeweled circlet for a brown cloak and sturdy boots. This was truly happening. Extra food, map, and compass in hand, she stepped into her destiny.

“Milady, should we cross through Falsefall lake, or would you prefer to go through Kilford forest?” Angelina asked, as she charted their path on a parchment.

“Which is faster?”

“Kilford forest,” Portia stated.

Angelina sighed. “Yes, but…there was a report that venomous troglodytes have taken residence in the area—”

“Kilford forest, it is!” Zenith declared.

Zenith left her goodbyes to her father and brother in a letter expressing her conviction that this journey was necessary, but she knew they would not approve. It mattered not. This was her quest.

As Zenith, Portia, and Angelina crossed the capital’s gates, they saw the rear guard of the king’s army marching in the distance. They, along with Daiyudura’s five mightiest heroes, had departed earlier that same day in the opposite direction of her pilgrimage.

May the gods bless them with the strength to defeat the Dark Army.

The three women rode hard through the day, the sun beating down on them. As dusk approached, they stopped at a tavern called The Dirty Toast in the small town of Whitburgh. The cramped common room stank of stale ale and sweat, but they secured lodging for the night.

After a meager supper of tough mutton and hard bread, they collapsed into their lumpy straw beds. Just a few hours of rest before sunrise roused them to continue their quest. Zenith purchased some dried fruits and salted pork from the tavernkeep to break their fast, and once again they mounted up and set out along the eastern road. Their horses carried them through majestic hills and quiet woodlands. By late afternoon, a steady rain had started falling. Cold and wet but undaunted, the three riders pressed on, ready to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.

They found shelter, then rested.

They rode some more.

Ate some more.

Rested again.

And continued…

“Delicious!” she exclaimed, setting a handful of copper pieces, accompanied by a single silver piece, on the worn and sticky table at the Soggy Pancake tavern in Eastscar.

They had a long stretch in front of them, but if they made no stops, they could reach Calmo village before the day’s end. They packed their belongings and their stomachs with as much food as possible and left at once.

On the way, she dreamt of Calmo village. Every time Calmo was mentioned, her grandpapa would go on and on about the thick, creamy dessert speckled with dark green spots throughout.

Basilisk pudding, the thought alone made her mouth water.

Once they got to Calmo, they would be able to have the best basilisk pudding in Daiyudura—according to her grandfather—and rest.

And then, finally, she would guide the hero and his regal pose, with those broad shoulders and muscular arms that could cleave a dragon’s head clear off. Why, his calves alone were surely thicker than the trunks of the ancient ironwood trees that dotted the Darkling Woods.

But of course, she only cared about meeting him for the good of the kingdom.

And first they needed to cross Kilford forest—which they had just reached. The further they went, the darker it became, until they could barely see a few feet in front of them.

Suddenly, Portia held up a hand, stopping the horses. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. A raspy hissing sound drifted through the trees. Zenith and Angelina shook their heads, straining to hear or see anything.

The sound came again, louder this time. The distinct clicking of multiple sets of teeth.

“Troglodytes!” Angelina cried.

The three women noticed shadows slithering behind trees and under bushes, but they couldn’t distinguish their features. Then the shadows got closer and startled the horses. That’s when they saw beady eyes glinting in the dim light. Zenith counted at least a dozen venomous creatures all around them.

“Maximus formation!” Zenith commanded, gathering magical energy at the tip of her index finger. With a shout, she unleashed a torrent of bright divine fire, scorching the nearest troglodytes. The creatures shrieked in pain.

Portia’s inhuman speed paired with her long red hair made her look like a blazing red streak as she unsheathed her colossal battleaxe and leaped forward, swinging the heavy blade in wide arcs, cutting down two troglodytes at once. More emerged to take their place.

Angelina swiftly tied her blue hair back and murmured healing prayers, mending Portia’s wounds whenever the creatures’ poisonous fangs managed to pierce her light armor.

The three fought furiously, inching step by step toward the forest trail. Just when Zenith thought they would be overwhelmed, Portia’s axe clove open a path.

“Go!” she bellowed.

They burst from the troglodytes’ encirclement and sprinted down the trail. The vile creatures pursued, but the sunlight filtering through the canopy kept them at bay.

The journey to Calmo village had been grueling beyond measure. Zenith, Portia, and Angelina were battered and exhausted, their clothes tattered rags barely clinging to their famished frames. Blood seeped from multiple wounds with every step, and their horses plodded along on the verge of death, having been pushed to their limits. And this last day had been the worst of them all.

Zenith crested the hill and pulled her horse to a stop. There, nestled in the green valley below, lay Calmo village. Joy leapt in her chest. They had made it!

Happiness morphed into confusion as a shadow fell over the land—a hell beast? What in the world? She remembered the stories: Only one of Daiyudura’s greatest heroes had ever managed to slay a hell beast.

Her heart turned to ice. There was no way for her and two handmaidens to succeed.

“That’s the Temporalis Krakenox…I’ve read about this one. You two, go back to the capital now! But I’ll fight this demon and win.”

“Milady, you can’t…” Angelina cried.

“I have to. I left everything behind and my mind’s made up. I will reach Calmo.”

Portia and Angelina nodded to each other.

“Princess, you do what you must and we’ll do what we want.”

Frowning after hearing Portia’s remark, Princess Zenith Daiyu II clenched her fists, dismounted her horse, and began walking toward the Temporalis Krakenox. Her handmaidens followed close behind, with Portia drawing her massive axe and Angelina tying her hair up once again.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. This was the end.

Zenith raised her index finger, condensing all of her magical energy into a sphere of pure power. A gamble. One strike—

Her spell’s action suddenly stopped—the mana scattered into the air. Her breath caught in her throat.

The hero.

Another tear rolled down her other cheek, this time born of happiness. Her cheeks blushed, and a big, beautiful smile spread across her face. She was ready to run up to him but thought better of it, not wanting to distract him before he faced a hell beast. She had no doubt he would be able to defeat it, and this was her chance to witness his true might.

Zenith watched as the hero stood before the Krakenox. The monster was ten times his size, but he stood tall, effortlessly and elegantly, with a straight posture.

He gracefully lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Then, as if she had blinked, Zenith found herself somewhere else. It was a familiar place, one she had visited not so long ago. In front of her, the first sun peered through the horizon; behind her lay a tavern.

The Soggy Pancake?

This was this morning. Had it all been a dream? No, not a dream. Her bones ached, she was bloodied and half of her clothes were gone.

“Shitting Demon King’s dignity.”