A man must know his limits. Emma’s description made it crystal clear to Alan just how savage and terrifying the Beastmen’s powerhouses were. He certainly couldn’t stomp the earth to crack the ground or wave a hand to wipe out birds—not yet, anyway. Figures at that level were probably Legends or even Saints.

Either tier could crush him without breaking a sweat. His S-rank strength? Still nowhere near enough.

Alan didn’t even dare comfort Emma with empty promises now. What if he failed later? He’d be letting her down.

He hated big talk. He saw himself as practical: promises only for what he could deliver, no fake heroics to show off.

This world was vast, filled with strong people. Bluster too much, and you’d get crushed someday. As the saying went: *Heaven’s justice is cyclical—no one escapes its turn.*

Especially with so many Deities watching. Swear recklessly here, and your words might just come true.

Alan could only gently stroke Emma’s back to soothe her.

After a while, her sobs quieted. Exhausted, she curled up in Alan’s arms and fell asleep.

*A wolf girl this sleepy?* Alan had never seen one like her. He carried her to the bedroom, closed the door softly, and returned to his study to keep writing.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drafting. In the afternoon, Sia came to play but left with Emma when she saw Alan was busy. As for Haina and Medi? Same as always—glaring at each other, doing their own things.

·····

*Year 5215 of the Origin Calendar, June 17th, Monday.* That day, Alan’s manuscript submitted to *Magic Weekly* finally began serialization.

At 9 a.m., newsstands and shops across Newdali City opened. Vendors placed newspapers from major publishers in prominent spots.

Newdali had several papers, but four dominated: *Magic Weekly*, *Heroic Press*, *Fantasy Haven*, and *Boys & Girls*.

Beyond odd news and gossip, their main draw was serialized novels.

In fiction, *Magic Weekly* was past its prime while *Heroic Press*, *Fantasy Haven*, and *Boys & Girls* charged ahead, seizing its lost readership.

*Heroic Press* was the fiercest. For two years, it had captured over half of Newdali’s novel readers—all thanks to *I Am the Overlord*. That brilliant fantasy novel had lifted *Heroic* from obscurity to become one of Newdali’s top publishers. The power of *I Am the Overlord* was undeniable.

At Deela’s Newsstand, the owner—a 23-year-old Arcane Academy student—was filling in while her father recovered from illness. Besides magazines from the Big Four publishers, the stand sold snacks, drinks, and fruit.

Deela arranged the four publishers’ magazines in each corner. Customers could spot their favorite instantly.

“Hey Deela! Your dad still not fully recovered?” A man in his thirties leaned on the counter, grinning.

The stand bore Deela’s name—a testament to her father’s affection.

“He’s much better. The doctor says a few more days of rest,” Deela replied sweetly. “Same as always, Uncle Jose? *Heroic Press* for *The Overlord*?”

“Hahaha! You know me best. Gimme one—quick! It’s torture waiting a whole week for just a few pages.” Jose handed her a silver coin stamped with Leo Kingdom’s first Monarch.

Deela took the coin and pulled *Heroic Press*’s latest issue from the south wall.

She’d skimmed a few chapters of *I Am the Overlord* herself but quit soon after. The plot was solid, but soaked in lewd violence. The protagonist’s path to power? *Bed and kill.* Bed heroes, bed saints, bed succubi, bed Elves, bed Beastmonsters—he bedded anything that moved, forcing himself on the rest.

Not her style. The boys at Arcane Academy loved it, though. So did older uncles. A fantasy fulfilling every man’s desire? Of course it sold. Deela had even overheard girls whispering about “positions” and “how dragons do it.”

She preferred *Magic Weekly*’s *Young Genius Mage*. Packed with arcane theory, its plot was clean—if slow. At nearly 300,000 words, the MC still hadn’t given his first kiss. *This issue might spice things up*, she thought. *The villainess is about to force herself on him. Will he lose his first time?*

Her gaze drifted to *Magic Weekly* on the east shelf. She grabbed a copy and flipped it open.

“Huh? *Mercenary World*? Is this *Magic Weekly*’s new serial?” The cover screamed the title. Only then did Deela notice it wasn’t *Young Genius Mage*’s usual art.

Instead, a white-robed youth strode across an endless ice field, a giant white wolf at his side.

*Must not be a novel. Magic Weekly only features mage protagonists—never mercenaries. Just a pretty cover.*

She turned the page.

Like always, *Magic Weekly* led with its serial, followed by short stories and news. Page one held *Young Genius Mage*’s latest chapter. Deela devoured it, relieved. *His first kiss is safe… though his virginity isn’t.*

“Huh?”

She gasped. At the chapter’s end, seamless text flowed into four bold words: *Mercenary World*. Below them lay a synopsis—and the novel’s opening lines.

“So it’s actually a novel!”