Karlos POV

Karlos blinked in confusion as the world around him slowly came into focus. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sounds of distant combat. His landing had been hard but surprisingly graceful for someone who’d just dropped out of the sky, and he could still feel the lingering effects of the shockwave running through his legs. With a groan, he pushed himself up and glanced around, trying to piece together where exactly he was.

The first thing he noticed was Merlin and Godfrey standing a few meters away. Both of them looked remarkably serious, their eyes scanning the horizon as they muttered under their breath. As Karlos stood, he realized that they weren’t just looking around—they were creating some sort of report. He blinked again, squinting at the magical runes and symbols floating around them, forming a glowing, holographic-like grid.

Karlos felt a bit out of place, like he’d been thrust back into a world that he didn’t fully understand. He’d been dealing with enough chaos recently, between his journey through the game and the strange occurrences in his life. But now, standing in the middle of a strange environment with two of his companions looking like they were drafting a missing persons report for him, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Merlin noticed the sound of his chuckle and turned his head slowly, his expression one of mild amusement mixed with relief. “Ah, Karlos. Good to see you, I suppose.” His voice was as dry as , but the tension in histone couldn’t be hidden. “We were about to send this to the authorities. You know, just in case you’ve been… missing.”

Karlos raised an eyebrow, confusion still lingering. “Wait, missing? For what? I just fell from the sky. Where are we exactly?”

Godfrey shot a glance at Merlin before letting out a sigh. “We had no idea where you’d gone after that last raid. We searched for hours and—well—turns out you were literally just up in the air, falling. Guess we didn’t think to look there first.”

Karlos rubbed his temples, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He felt as though his memory was playing tricks on him. The last thing he remembered was… well, everything happening so fast. The game mechanics, the Flame Mage skin, that shocking upgrade, and then—nothing. “Falling from the sky?

“ Do you need some a healing potion to help with your head. You’ve been hit quite a lot.

“ Yes, but what's that smell? It smells like ash and is there a battle going on?”

Godfrey shot him a brief glance before returning his attention to the fracas unfolding. His massive, imposing figure was hard to ignore, his armor clinking with each movement, his eyes narrowed in that signature way he had when he was about to deal with someone’s stupidity.

Godfrey’s jaw tightened as he watched the brawl spiral further out of control. “We’ve been trying to find you for hours,” he said, voice low but carrying an edge to it. “And then you drop in, like you just thought it’d be a good time for a dramatic entrance.” He glanced at Karlos, eyes flicking down to his disheveled state. “You okay, or are you just here for the show?”

Before Karlos could answer, a figure emerged from behind a barrel, looking like someone who’d been trying to hide from both the brawl and the larger-than-life figures in front of him. Karlos’ eyes widened as he saw the small man with glasses and wild, disheveled hair, who had somehow managed to escape notice.

“Matthew,” Godfrey barked, locking eyes with him. He started to step forward his armor for some reason decided to clink with each step.

The smaller man when he saw his location was exposed and bolted. He started running up a wall as Godfrey started running after him. He realized he wasn’t going to catch him with his armor slowing him down and signaling his closeness. So he removed it.

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“Matthew,” Merlin replied with the air of someone explaining the obvious. “He’s a specialist in being an absolute nightmare for knights. One of his abilities is tampering with armor—makes it heavier, louder, and generally insufferable to wear. You know, clinking,” he added, gesturing to Godfrey’s boots as they hit the ground with a loud clang.

I frowned, glancing toward the wiry man with glasses who was perched on a wall like a smug gargoyle. He waved at Godfrey, a toothy grin splitting his face as if this was all part of his usual routine.

“Knights have to strip down to their underwear to catch him,” Merlin continued in that same calm tone, as if he were reading a weather report. “Even their boots aren’t safe from his magic. And he’s annoyingly creative with his distractions.”

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could ask what “creative” meant, Merlin answered my unspoken question. “He comments on their figures, tones, and anything else he can use to throw them off. Makes it, shall we say, uncomfortable to apprehend him.”

Godfrey let out a low growl, finally tossing aside the last piece of his breastplate. He stood there in little more than his undershirt and trousers, his broad shoulders tense and his jaw clenched.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet,” Merlin replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Just as I turned my attention back to Godfrey, the first taunt came from Matthew, who was now leaning lazily against the wall. “Oh dear, Sir Godfrey, I didn’t realize we were starting the show so early,” he called out, his voice loud enough to carry over the din of the brawl. “You’ve been holding out on me—look at those arms! All that shining armor just hides your best assets.”

I choked on my breath. Merlin, on the other hand, looked entirely unfazed.

Godfrey, to his credit, didn’t rise to the bait. He yanked off his boots with the same grim determination he’d wear in a battlefield charge, ignoring the wolf whistles that followed.

“You know,” Matthew continued, now strolling along the top of the wall like a cat on a fence, “if you’d just let me help you out of that armor more often, we wouldn’t have to do this whole song and dance every time. Think about how much more efficient we’d be! You, me, maybe some candlelight—”

“Enough,” Godfrey barked, his deep voice slicing through the air like a sword.

But Matthew was undeterred. He crouched on the edge of the wall, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Godfrey with rapt attention. “Come on, Sir Grump. Admit it—you love the chase. You wouldn’t even know what to do with yourself if I wasn’t here to spice things up.”

I glanced at Merlin, who finally looked up from his floating grid of runes. “Does this happen often?”

“Oh, all the time,” Merlin said with a sigh. “Matthew’s relentless. Godfrey’s pride ensures he’ll never back down, and the rest of us get stuck watching this ridiculous mating ritual unfold.”

“Mating—what?”

But before Merlin could elaborate, Godfrey lunged forward, his long strides eating up the ground between him and the wall where Matthew perched. Matthew let out a mock gasp of surprise and leapt down, landing with an almost unnatural grace.

“Ah, now that’s the spirit!” he said, spinning on his heel to dash toward the alley. “Don’t hold back, big guy—I love it when you get all commanding!”

Godfrey didn’t respond, but the dark flush creeping up his neck spoke volumes.

I shook my head, rubbing my temples. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”

“Get used to it,” Merlin said, deadpan. “This is just a Tuesday.”

the chase unfold with growing disbelief, his jaw tightening as Godfrey broke into a full sprint. The knight, now free of his clinking armor, moved with surprising speed, his focus locked on the wiry troublemaker darting ahead. For a brief moment, it seemed like Godfrey might actually catch Matthew. But then, just as Godfrey’s hand brushed Matthew’s shoulder, the smaller man slipped out of reach with a fluid twist, spinning around to face his pursuer.

Matthew’s grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Oh, Sir Godfrey, you’re so predictable,” he teased, backing away slowly. “What happens if I let you catch me? Another lecture about honor and duty? A night in the stocks? Or…” His tone dipped suggestively, his gaze sweeping up and down Godfrey with dramatic flair, “something a little more intimate? You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Godfrey’s expression darkened, his frustration plain as he jabbed a finger at Matthew. “When I catch you—and I will—you know exactly what’s coming next.” His voice was low, threatening, and carried an unspoken weight that even Karlos could feel.

Matthew, however, seemed entirely unfazed. Instead, he laughed, a sharp, ringing sound that carried over the distant clamor of the brawl. “Oh, you mean the same old punishment? The stern lectures? The cold glares?” He took a step forward, his eyes glinting with something almost feral. “I hate to break it to you, big guy, but I’m way past that now. You see…” He raised a hand, and the air around him seemed to shimmer. “My power’s evolved. And guess what? I’m not limited to messing with your armor anymore.”