Inside Alfred’s castle, two humans whispered like mice skittering in a midnight hall.

Darren and Ed had left the Crystal Radiance Temple with Alfred, shadows peeled from holy walls. They were Ymir’s plants, faces pale as paper, plotting with breath like cold mist.

“Ed, what do we do?” Darren’s nerves twitched like bowstrings. “Do we take this news back to Ymir?”

Ed’s palm cracked against Darren’s head like a thunderclap on stone. His temper flared like oil on a fire. “You idiot. Inform Ymir? Is your brain rattled? Want to die, don’t drag me.”

Ed’s mind moved on a higher ridge, like a hawk riding thermals above a grazing goat. While Darren fretted about reporting, Ed had decided to sever the rope. He wouldn’t inform Ymir; he’d cut ties clean like a knife through wet bamboo. The Thirteenth Expeditionary Army had twelve companies, captains and vice-captains at a Supreme Deity tier, a step above a God King or a Nether King, mountains above mountains. Most seats past twentieth were Upper Deity level; Alfred said a so-called God King or Nether King was only that—Upper Deity, waves beneath deeper waves.

Ed couldn’t fathom Darren’s death-wish, a pig teammate charging into a tiger’s maw. Betraying a friend wasn’t this crude; you don’t light the house to cook an egg.

After a moment, Ed’s eyes flashed like cold stars under a winter branch. He smiled thin and spoke to Darren, voice smooth as silk over steel. “Darren, you go report to Ymir. I’ll stay and cover you, smoke to mask your trail. If you vanish, I’ll give them a reason, so they won’t suspect.”

Something pricked Darren’s skin like a thorn under a sleeve. Ed had just slapped him for wanting this; now Ed supported him? The wind changed too fast.

Ed saw the doubt and slapped him again, a wave breaking on a stubborn rock. “Think, man. If we both go, our footprints will scream. I stay and hush the ground, you run and deliver. I’m buying you time with my life like a candle burning at both ends. When you reach Ymir, praise me. Don’t forget the man holding the door.”

Ed wore that “if I don’t walk into hell, who will” look, a monk stepping into flame. Darren’s eyes brimmed like a spring after frost.

“Ed, trust me. When I get back to the temple, I won’t forget your merit.” He wiped his eyes with a sleeve, rain on rough cloth, and waved farewell with damp resolve.

Ed watched Darren vanish down the corridor like a swallowed shadow. His ‘reluctance’ twisted into a snarl, a wolf baring teeth in moonlight. “Heh. A pig teammate is still a pig. Keep him, and I get dragged into the pit. Better to send him off early, like tossing ballast into the sea.”

After seeing the Expeditionary Army, Ed felt a new door swing open, a horizon tearing like dawn. A fresh domain, a vast world, stars rolling like waves.

Ed was hungry for the climb, a man with iron in his bones. He chose hard lines over soft mud. Another would nag Darren into staying and drown in cheap comfort; Ed picked the blade.

A pig teammate would slip and show their tail. If the Expeditionary Army learned they were spies trying to leak, their path to the stars would snap like a brittle bow. Even if they lived, marching with the Army would be done, dust closed over footprints.

Ed’s dream was to become one of them, to sail the sea of stars, to fight across a thousand worlds, a man’s romance like wine and wind.

Keep Darren and he’d someday get speared by that fool. Understanding the Army’s strength and still thinking about informing Ymir? That alone made Ed drop Darren like a hot coal.

Not everyone wants to die loyal to Ymir; Ed aimed for star and ocean, a compass set on the wide blue.

He snorted cold and ran, face painted with panic like a mask, toward distant patrols.

“Bad news,” he cried to a nearby brother in the Expeditionary Army, breath sharp like a blade of winter. “We’ve got a traitor. That guy—”

He poured Darren’s details like water from a jar, and he made it convincing with a trembling face, a deer in tall grass. “If Ymir gets word to the Koramor world, it’s trouble like wildfire in dry forest.”

“Koramor?” A member of the FFF Brotherhood in a black cloak, fist wrapped around a drumstick like a club, sneered like a city lord at a dusty town. “Trash. A world without a Creator God dares call itself high civilization?”

Scorn washed like rain from a tiled roof. It felt like a noble from the capital ignoring a border village. Arrogant, yes—but Ed wanted exactly this swagger. It wasn’t spoiled nobility; it was confidence with iron roots, a mountain sure of its spine. That kind of pride gave Ed a deep sense of shelter, a harbor in storm.

“Hey, brother,” Ed said, tone humble as cool tea. “I know you scorn them. I don’t know why your commander hasn’t moved on the temple. Maybe there’s a grand design, clouds layered over the moon…”

“Of course.” The soldier’s pride glowed like a brazier. “This campaign is led by His Majesty the Void Messenger, the First Demon King. Every step is a seed with deep intent. A tiny act ten thousand years ago can be a plank in a bridge today. Do you think you can fathom His Majesty’s wisdom, like minnows reading the sea?”

Ed had no quarrel with that; reality spoke like thunder. When the Void Messenger arrived, heaven and earth shuddered like a drum under a storm. When a God King and a Nether King hunted Alfred then, no such signs stitched the sky. It felt like heaven itself bowed, a canopy tilting in reverence.

“Yes, yes… That Lord’s thoughts are beyond me, mist over mountains.”

“His Majesty,” the man corrected, voice a bell. “Address the First and Second Demon Kings as His Majesty. There were once fifteen Demon Kings; now ten remain, peaks like broken teeth. ‘His Majesty’ is a title carried from the Other Shore. Tiered Beings always use it like a crown. Remember, don’t toss that title around like rice. Those you can call ‘His Majesty’ are beings beyond your window of sky. For others, use ‘Lord’ and live.”

His tone was lecture, a teacher’s bamboo pointer tapping the desk. Ed felt no slight, only took in the stream like a thirsty traveler. For a man who wanted in, even a drop of information was gold, a pearl found in sand.

“Brother, what do I call you?” Ed bent his words like a willow. “I’m Ed.”

“Justice,” the man said, simple as a blade laid flat.

“Justice?” Ed blinked, a firefly under lantern light.

“In distant years, my parents wished me filled with justice,” he said, eyes steady as polished stone. “So they named me Justice.”

Ed: “...”

“Justice, don’t you think striking first to cut down Ymir’s rebels is a chance to shine?” Ed’s voice coiled like silk rope. “Before anyone reacts, you grab the merit, fish leaping upstream. I know you can’t move without orders, like soldiers under a cloud. But Darren is an exception. He thinks he can come and go like wind through an open door? Chase him, and it’s for the Expeditionary Army’s honor. For a man who dares challenge our dignity, you have full reason to act now and report later.”

Justice’s eyes rolled like marbles, thoughts tumbling like stones in a stream. Ed wasn’t wrong. Without orders, they waited like hawks on perches, but Darren’s case was special. He slipped under their eyelids and darted off to leak intel, a mouse gnawing the granary. How could that stand? He’d slice him first, talk later, and the sky wouldn’t blame him.

Justice clapped Ed’s shoulder, a hand firm as a clamp. His gaze grew deep, a pond hiding fish. “Kid, I like your spine.”

Ed’s heart dipped like a boat in sudden wind. Did Justice see through the weave, the little theatre Ed staged in smoke?

Justice summoned water with a flick, a stream curling from air to wash grease from his fingers, clean as rain stripping dust. “Since you made me a chance, I’ll wipe your earlier business clean, a stroke of bamboo. I won’t report up.”

Something snapped in Ed’s chest, a twig breaking in quiet snow. Discovered. Of course discovered. The Expeditionary Army’s strength was a mountain beyond his map. A God King or Nether King here was a nameless footsoldier, not even near the top twenty seats of a company. How could the closest watcher, Justice, fail to hear two spies whispering under his lantern?

“Justice, let me lead,” Ed said quickly, voice smooth like water finding a path. “I know where the temple sits.”

Soon, Justice gathered a few rough friends, wolves padded in step, and slipped away behind Ed, shadows moving like a tide. Their average strength sat at Deity level, solid rocks in a riverbed; a few were Upper Deity tier, stars brighter than most. Justice himself was Upper Deity, a blade gleaming on a rack. They ran like arrows and caught Darren on the road to the temple, his panic a leaf tossed by wind.

A few big shots lifted hands to kill across a distance, thunder before rain. Ed shouted them down, voice cutting like a reed flute. “Hold. Listen. If you only kill Darren, the merit is a morsel, not enough to share. Let him return to the temple. Then we appear and demand the traitor by name. The temple will push back like a herd guarding a calf. That gives us reason to draw blades and net them all in one sweep. The temple is the banner of this world’s resistance, the spine of a stubborn beast. Cut them, and the world’s problem is solved like a knot pulled straight.”

They paused, silence like snow. The plan felt clean, a blade sliding into its sheath.

“Kid, that’s wicked,” one said, grinning like a fox under a plum tree.

“Heh, a belly full of bad water,” another laughed, a river flashing in sun. “I like it.”

“Promising,” a third chimed, eyes bright as sparks. “The FFF Brotherhood welcomes you.”