Rimuru could only sigh in annoyance. It had barely been a day since he acquired his new form, and he was already using it to greet some new visitors. Was there ever going to be a quiet moment around here?

He tugged on his fur-lined coat, the soft material brushing against his fingers as he adjusted the tan sash around his waist. The outfit was comfortable, far more than he expected, though he couldn’t help but feel like he was playing dress-up. The black and white ensemble was simple but had a certain charm—almost too charming, if he were being honest. If the goal was to make him seem like a capable leader, he wasn't sure it was doing the job.

His reflection in the polished surface of a nearby water jug stared back at him. Pale blue hair framed his face, falling softly past his shoulders. Golden eyes, bright and sharp, gleamed beneath the tousled strands. He could admit, if only to himself, that he looked more like a lost child than a fearsome ruler. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Well, at least I don't look too intimidating,” he mused, lips curling into a wry smile. Not that he was aiming to frighten anyone—if anything, these visitors were more likely to underestimate him at first glance. Maybe that would work in his favor...? He shrugged the thought away, tugging his sleeves into place as he turned toward the small wooden table against the wall.

His eyes drifted to the object resting there—a mask, smooth and polished, its surface reflecting the dim light. Shizu’s mask. For a moment, his expression softened, and the teasing humor in his voice faded into something quieter. More solemn.

Rimuru reached out with hesitant fingers, brushing lightly against the edge of the mask. It felt cool beneath his touch—a reminder of the person who had entrusted him with more than just an object. Memories of her final moments stirred in his mind: her warmth fading away, her quiet resolve to entrust him with the future she could no longer pursue. That weight hadn’t left him. If anything, it settled deeper into his core with each passing day.

With a sad smile, he absorbed the mask into his body with his unique skill 'Predator' and turned to leave. No sense in keeping his guests waiting any longer.

…

Shirou stood alongside his lovers in what he could only assume was the main meeting area of the goblin village. The structure was crude but functional, with wooden beams supporting a roughly thatched roof. A large table sat at the center, its surface worn but clean, as if the goblins had tried their best to make the place presentable.

It was comforting to know the goblins could at least be reasoned with—a far cry from the mindless monsters they had first expected. Despite their initial wariness, the goblins had been surprisingly cooperative, offering food and a place to rest while their leader was summoned. Still, the atmosphere held an undercurrent of tension. Every goblin that passed by cast furtive glances their way, as though uncertain whether to be fearful or curious.

Beside him, Luvia tapped her foot impatiently, her polished nails drumming softly against the hilt of a concealed dagger. “I hope this leader of theirs doesn't keep us waiting too long,” she muttered, her voice low and sharp. “It's rude to keep guests in suspense.”

“Give them a little credit,” Rin countered, her arms folded across her chest. “Considering everything they've been through, the fact that they’re willing to negotiate is already a good sign.”

Her tone was practical, but there was a note of cautious optimism underneath—an unspoken hope that things wouldn’t spiral into yet another conflict. Shirou didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning the small tent’s interior while his mind mulled over her words. The structure itself was simple—rough-hewn wooden beams supporting cloth walls that were patched together with whatever materials the goblins had on hand. It wasn’t much, but the effort spoke of a people trying to rebuild from the ground up.

Despite the humble surroundings, that sense of unease gnawed at the edge of his thoughts. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. More like the awareness that something about their situation didn’t quite add up. The goblins, for all their roughness and desperation, weren’t the source. It was something else—something he couldn’t place yet.

His arms remained loosely crossed as he leaned against one of the wooden support beams, eyes narrowing slightly. Maybe he was just being paranoid? After all, waking up in an unfamiliar world would put anyone on edge. From the moment he and the others had arrived, his instincts had been buzzing—a quiet, persistent hum that refused to fade no matter how peaceful things seemed on the surface. It wasn’t as if he expected danger to leap out from the shadows, but the unease remained, heavy and stubborn.

Rin let out a quiet sigh, her posture relaxing ever so slightly. “You’re overthinking it,” she said, as if sensing his inner turmoil. “Not every situation ends with a fight to the death, you know.”

“I know,” Shirou admitted, though his voice held a trace of distraction. He wanted to believe it. After everything they’d been through, maybe it was time to stop expecting the worst. Yet, the sharp edge of caution kept him grounded. “But something feels…off.”

Luvia, seated on a makeshift stool nearby, raised a perfectly shaped brow. “You always think something feels off,” she quipped, though there was no malice in her words. If anything, there was an odd sort of comfort in his wariness—it meant they weren’t walking into a situation blind.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax—or at least appear like he was. No sense in worrying the others when there was no clear threat in sight. “Maybe you’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

Probably.

Still, that nagging sensation refused to fade. If anything, it sharpened the moment the flap of the tent rustled.

Someone was coming.

Someone was coming.

Shirou’s senses sharpened the moment he felt the faintest shift outside the tent—a light but deliberate step, too graceful to belong to any of the goblins they had met so far. His muscles tensed on instinct, though he made no outward move to betray his wariness. Years of battle had taught him patience, but patience had limits, and his was beginning to wear thin.

Is this their leader? He certainly hoped so. While the goblins had been surprisingly accommodating, there was only so much idle waiting he could tolerate before his mind started to wander toward darker possibilities. Every minute spent lingering was another minute without answers—answers about this strange world, how they had arrived here, and perhaps, most importantly, how to find their way back home.

He shifted his weight subtly, casting a glance toward Rin and Luvia. They seemed more composed, though he recognized the telltale signs of their own readiness. Rin’s arms were still folded across her chest, but her fingers twitched faintly as though itching to reach for a spell. Luvia, on the other hand, wore a mask of aristocratic ease, but the tension in her posture gave her away.

At least they’re being careful.

Still, beneath his surface calm, a flicker of frustration stirred. He didn’t like being left in the dark—especially in unfamiliar territory. Whoever was approaching, they’d better be prepared to provide some answers. If not, he wasn’t above pushing a little harder to get what they needed.

A soft touch pulled him from his thoughts. Shirou flinched, just slightly, before realizing it was Sakura. Her slender fingers curled gently around his hand, her warmth a quiet but steadying presence against his skin.

“Senpai,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, “everything’s going to be all right.”

Her attempt to reassure him wasn’t lost on him, but it didn’t completely ease the tension that had lodged itself in his chest. Still, the concern in her violet eyes softened the sharp edges of his thoughts, and with a quiet exhale, he gave her hand a slight squeeze in return—a silent promise that he was fine. For now.

Before he could say anything else, the flap of the tent rustled.

All four of them turned their attention toward the entrance as it lifted aside, revealing a figure that immediately shattered their expectations.

A child?

At least, that’s what it looked like. The newcomer stepped inside with an easy, fluid grace, their striking blue hair falling in soft, uneven strands around a face that was far too youthful to be leading anything—let alone an entire village. Gold eyes, bright and curious, swept over the room before settling on their small group with open interest.

Shirou’s brow furrowed, his instincts flaring again—not with danger, but with that same gnawing sense that something wasn’t quite right. This person...wasn’t human. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but the truth rang clear in the back of his mind like a bell. And yet, despite that, he didn’t sense any hostility. If anything, there was an almost disarming aura about them, like they belonged here but weren’t bound by the same rules of reality.

The stranger smiled—an easy, relaxed expression that felt surprisingly genuine.

“Hey there!” they greeted cheerfully, hands resting loosely on their hips. “I’m Rimuru, leader of the goblins. I heard we had some unusual visitors, so I figured I should come meet you myself.”

Silence hung thick in the air.

Rin blinked, struggling to reconcile the casual tone with the absurdity of the statement. “I… I’m sorry,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “You’re the leader?”

Rimuru tilted their head slightly, as if the confusion genuinely puzzled them. “Yup! Surprising, right?”

Shirou, still holding Sakura’s hand, gave a half-shrug and raised his free hand in a so-so gesture. “Meh, I’ve seen stranger,” he admitted, his voice carrying an easy calm that belied the tension humming beneath his skin. “Although, this is definitely the strangest thing we’ve seen since we got here.”

The faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corner of Rimuru’s lips. “That’s fair,” they replied with a casual hum, as if a group of armed strangers showing up in their village was just another ordinary day.

The nonchalance was… odd. Not forced, not dismissive—just genuinely relaxed in a way that threw Shirou off. Most people would be more guarded, more cautious, especially when dealing with unknowns. But Rimuru stood there, exuding a calm, easy presence that felt strangely at odds with the bizarre circumstances.

A flicker of movement caught his attention. Rin shifted her weight onto one leg, arms still folded, but her narrowed eyes betrayed her lingering skepticism. “So,” she cut in, her tone edged with curiosity, “how does a kid like you end up leading a whole village?”

Rimuru chuckled softly, as if the question was both familiar and amusing. “Oh, it’s a long story,” they answered, waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s just say… I’m not exactly your average person.”

Shirou’s brow furrowed slightly at the vague response, but he let it slide for now. Whoever—or whatever—Rimuru was, they weren’t radiating any malice. Still, his instincts, honed from countless life-or-death battles, kept a quiet edge of caution in his gut. Something about Rimuru didn’t add up, but pressing too hard wouldn’t win them any favors. For now, it was best to play along.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” he said, keeping his tone light, though his gaze remained sharp. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it—if you’re willing to share.”

Rimuru hummed in response, their golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Maybe another time. You’re not exactly here for a bedtime story, are you?”

Shirou allowed a faint smirk to tug at his lips. “Fair point.” His expression softened as he glanced toward Rin and Sakura beside him. “Honestly, we’re just looking for a place to catch our breath. It’s been… a long day to say the least.”

At that, Rimuru tilted their head in curiosity. “And you want to stay here?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Shirou said. He wasn’t one to beg, but his practical side knew they couldn’t afford to be picky. “We won’t take advantage of your hospitality. In exchange, we’re willing to help out however we can—whether that means protecting the village or fixing things.” His tone was steady, but there was an undercurrent of quiet resolve. He wasn’t here to freeload, and if it meant earning their keep, he’d do whatever was necessary.

He gestured toward Rin and Luvia with a tilt of his head. “And they’re good with magic if you want to add some magical defenses to your village.”

Rin let out a soft scoff but didn’t refute his words. “Good is an understatement,” she muttered under her breath, folding her arms as she leaned against a nearby wooden support beam. Despite her usual sharp tone, there was no real bite to her words—if anything, it was a rare moment of humility veiled behind her usual pride.

Luvia, on the other hand, smiled gracefully, brushing a lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “Indeed. A village like this could benefit greatly from a few well-placed wards. With a bit of time, I could reinforce the perimeter against most forms of magical intrusion.” Her voice was smooth and composed, as if she were discussing afternoon tea rather than offering to fortify a village of evolved goblins.

Rimuru, for their part, seemed genuinely intrigued. Their golden eyes gleamed with curiosity as they regarded the trio. “Huh… magic, huh? That could be useful.” They rested a hand on their chin, as if already mentally cataloging the potential benefits. “We’ve got a few defenses in place, but having specialists like you guys around could make a real difference.”

Shirou relaxed—just a little—at the easy acceptance. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they arrived, but Rimuru’s open-mindedness was a welcome surprise. Most people would have balked at strangers showing up out of nowhere, let alone offer them a place to stay. Then again, Rimuru clearly wasn’t most people.

“I’m no stranger to fixing weapons or building things,” Shirou added, his voice more assured now that the conversation was shifting toward practical matters. “If any of your people need repairs—or if there’s something you want built—I’m your guy.”

Rimuru’s expression brightened at that. “Oh, that’ll definitely come in handy. The hobgoblins are strong, but their craftsmanship’s… let’s say it’s still a work in progress. Thankfully, I already have some dwarves helping out here,” they added with a chuckle, their tone warm and easy. “But if you’re offering, I’m not about to turn down extra hands.”

Shirou raised an eyebrow at the mention of dwarves being in the village. Then again, it wasn't all the surprising given the signs of construction around the village seemed more refined than what any of the Hobgoblins looked capable of.

“The construction makes a lot more sense now,” he remarked, his eyes scanning the various structures. “I was wondering how the hobgoblins managed work this precise. No offense to them, but it didn’t exactly seem like their specialty.”

Rimuru laughed softly, waving off the concern. “None taken—they’d be the first to admit it. Before I named them, they were just your average goblins. Stronger now, sure, but woodworking and smithing?” They shook their head with a chuckle. “Let’s just say they’re still learning the finer points.”

“Wait.” Rin narrowed her eyes slightly, focusing on a specific detail. “Named them?”

“Oh, right. You probably don’t know how that works here,” Rimuru said, leaning back comfortably. “When a powerful individual gives a name to certain monsters, it’s more than just a formality. It triggers a kind of… evolution. They grow stronger, smarter—even their appearance changes.”

Shirou frowned slightly, considering that information. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever encountered before. The idea that a simple act of naming could fundamentally change someone’s existence was strange—even by the standards of his own experiences. “So, the goblins became hobgoblins after you named them?”

“Correct!” Rimuru cheerfully replied, their voice light and easy. “One day, they were a bunch of scrappy little guys, and the next—bam! Stronger, smarter, and a whole lot bigger. Honestly, the transformation is still kind of wild to think about.”

Shirou let out a thoughtful hum, filing away that bit of information. If a name alone could push a creature to evolve, the power behind it must have been considerable. And for Rimuru to do it casually, without even breaking a sweat… just what kind of being were they?

Before he could press further, Rimuru’s posture shifted as if a thought had suddenly struck them. Their golden eyes widened slightly, flicking back toward the group with renewed curiosity.

“Wait a second,” they said, tilting their head. “Tell me something—are you guys from Japan?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, catching all four of them off guard.

“Uh…” Shirou exchanged a glance with Rin, who looked equally surprised by the sudden inquiry. “Yeah. We are. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Rimuru began, tapping a finger against their chin, “I couldn’t help but notice you don’t seem to understand how this world works. Most people around here wouldn’t question stuff like monster evolution, but your questions? They’re pretty… specific.” They paused, leaning forward slightly as their gaze sharpened. “And yet, you already know how to use magic. If you’ve only been here a short while, how does that work?”

It was a fair question. One that, under normal circumstances, Shirou might have sidestepped. But something about Rimuru—perhaps their easygoing demeanor—made him feel like holding back wasn’t necessary. At least, not right now.

“We’re not exactly new to magic,” he admitted carefully. “Where we’re from, magic’s… well, not common, but not unheard of either. Rin and Luvia are actual magi. They’ve been practicing it for most of their lives.”

Rin let out a quiet sigh before adding, “And just to be clear, it’s not the same as whatever system you have here. Our magecraft relies on manipulating the world’s natural energy rather than drawing from an internal magic pool.”

Rimuru’s eyes widened in interest. “Whoa, really? That’s a whole different framework. I’m mostly working with magicules here—they’re basically the building blocks of magical energy. But what you’re describing sounds more like… I don’t know, old-school alchemy or something.”

“It’s complicated,” Shirou admitted with a faint smile. “But we make do.”

“And you?” Rimuru asked, turning their attention back to him. Their golden eyes held a spark of curiosity—genuine interest, not the wariness Shirou had come to expect when people learned what he could do.

“I specialize in Reinforcement and Projection,” Shirou answered without hesitation. There was no point in hiding it. If they were going to stay here, it was better to be upfront about his abilities. “Though compared to most other magi, I’m only third-rate,” he added, his voice carrying a note of self-deprecation.

Rimuru tilted their head, considering his words. “Third-rate?” they repeated, as if the term itself didn’t quite make sense. “That’s a weird way to describe yourself—especially if you can strengthen and replicate things. Honestly, that sounds pretty useful to me.”

Shirou shrugged, leaning back slightly. “It’s because I can't learn other kinds of spells,” he admitted, his voice even but carrying the weight of long-standing frustration. “At least, not to the extent they can.” He gestured toward Rin and Luvia with a faint tilt of his head. “My magic is… specialized. I’m stuck with Reinforcement and Projection, which limits me to enhancing objects or creating temporary copies of weapons. Anything outside of that? Let’s just say it’s not my strong suit.”

Rin crossed her arms, arching a brow as she listened. “You sell yourself short, Shirou,” she interjected, her tone both sharp and fond. “Sure, you lack versatility, but the things you can do? No ordinary magus could replicate them. Most people would kill for your efficiency with Projection alone.”

Luvia nodded in agreement, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Indeed. While your spell repertoire may be limited, your mastery of those few skills surpasses that of most professional magi. Not to mention, your ability to improvise in combat is practically unmatched.”

Shirou allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, but there was still a lingering sense of self-doubt behind his eyes. “Maybe,” he allowed, his tone softening. “But it doesn’t change the fact that my magic is like a broken gear—I can only do what fits within its limits.”

“Thankfully,” he continued, more brightly, “I’m not entirely useless outside of that. I’ve gotten pretty decent at using external magecraft—things like Shikigami and Runic Magecraft.” His fingers twitched as he recalled the hours spent learning to carve intricate symbols and imbue them with magic. “They’re not as natural to me as Projection, but they give me a little more flexibility when I need it.”

Rimuru’s expression shifted from curiosity to outright fascination. “Wait, wait—Shikigami? Like paper familiars and spirit control?” they asked, eyes practically sparkling with interest. “And runes—are we talking Norse magic? Because that’s pretty cool.”

Shirou gave a short nod. “Something like that. Shikigami are mostly useful for reconnaissance or minor tasks. I can create them in a pinch to scout ahead or carry out basic commands. Runes, on the other hand, are better for reinforcement and setting up magical barriers. Simple stuff, but effective.”

Rimuru let out an impressed whistle. “You’re way too humble, you know that?” they remarked with a laugh. “If I had half that skill set back when I first arrived, things would’ve gone a whole lot smoother. Honestly, practical magic like yours is the kind that keeps people alive—and builds civilizations.”

The praise caught Shirou off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Most of the magi he had encountered only focused on the gaps in his abilities—the things he couldn’t do. The Association was obsessed with tradition, bloodlines, and the pursuit of mysteries long since lost to time. Compared to their ancient and prestigious sorceries, his Reinforcement and Projection were seen as crude imitations—a dead-end path unworthy of serious recognition.

But Rimuru? They didn’t seem to care about that at all. There was no condescension in their voice, no thinly veiled pity for what he lacked. They saw his abilities for what they were—practical, adaptable, and useful. As if his limitations didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It was a refreshing change of pace from the rigid, elitist views he had grown used to back home.

And yet, Shirou knew there was more to it. He couldn’t exactly show his full capabilities—not without risking far more than just scrutiny. If the Magus Association ever learned about his Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works, they would slap a Sealing Designation on him in a heartbeat. To them, it wasn’t just a rare and dangerous anomaly—it was a prize to be locked away, dissected, and studied.

A gilded prison.

It was that threat—always looming—that kept him walking the fine line between revealing his strengths and concealing the truth of his magecraft. Granted, secrecy was second nature to any magus. The world of magecraft thrived in the shadows, with every practitioner guarding their mysteries like dragons hoarding treasure. But for Shirou, the stakes were higher. His abilities weren’t just a family legacy or a point of pride—they were a liability.

The Magus Association had clear rules: anything deemed too rare, too dangerous, or too unique was subject to a Sealing Designation. And a Reality Marble? That was the kind of mystery that would have him hunted down and shackled in a heartbeat.

It was why he held back. Why he let others believe he was third-rate. As long as they underestimated him, he was safe. And if he needed to fight? Well, Unlimited Blade Works remained his ultimate trump card—a hidden ace no one could see coming until it was too late.

But here, in this strange new world, those old concerns felt distant. For once, no one looked at him with suspicion or judged his craft by the rigid standards of the Association. Rimuru’s easy acceptance, the way they praised his abilities without hesitation—it was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Maybe, just maybe, this world would allow him to be something more than a ticking time bomb.

“Besides,” Rimuru continued, their tone still light, “if you stick around long enough, who knows? Maybe you can teach me thing or two about Magecraft?”

Shirou let out a soft chuckle, the tension in his chest easing. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” he admitted. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about the Association, the threat of a Sealing Designation, or the burdens he carried. Here, things felt different—simpler, even.

“Besides,” Rimuru continued, their tone still light, “if you stick around long enough, who knows? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about magecraft?”

Shirou let out a soft chuckle, the tension in his chest easing. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” he admitted. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about the Association, the threat of a Sealing Designation, or the burdens he carried. Here, things felt different—simpler, even.

But just as that thought settled, Shirou caught a shift in Rimuru’s posture. Their casual, easygoing demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Shirou to notice. Their body stilled, head tilting slightly, as if hearing something no one else could.

It was subtle—most people wouldn’t have caught it—but Shirou had spent years honing his observational skills. In battle, recognizing even the smallest change could mean the difference between victory and death. And right now, Rimuru’s entire focus had sharpened into something cold and serious.

“Something wrong?” Shirou asked, his voice low but steady.

Rimuru blinked and, just like that, the tension faded from their form. A warm, easy smile slipped back into place—almost too easily. “Ah, nothing you need to worry about,” they said with a casual wave of their hand. “Just a little… situation I need to check on. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Shirou didn’t press. He recognized a deflection when he heard one—but he also knew when to let things go. If it was serious, Rimuru wouldn’t be brushing it off so lightly. At least, he hoped that was the case.

“I’ll be back soon,” Rimuru continued, already turning toward the tent’s entrance. “In the meantime, why don’t you guys take a look around? It’s not much yet, but we’re making progress.”

With that, they raised a hand in a casual gesture, and a large, well-built hobgoblin stepped into the tent. Shirou recognized him immediately—he was hard to miss. The hobgoblin’s towering frame, thick muscles, and commanding presence stood in stark contrast to the others they’d encountered. His sharp, confident gaze swept over the group with a mix of curiosity and authority.

“Rigurd, mind giving our guests a tour while I’m out?” Rimuru asked, their voice light but brisk. “Show them around, answer any questions, and, you know—try not to scare them too much.” They added the last part with a teasing grin, but Shirou caught the slight urgency beneath their playful tone. Whatever had drawn Rimuru’s attention, it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Rigurd straightened his back proudly, thumping a fist over his broad chest in a gesture that reminded Shirou of an old-fashioned knight. “Of course, Lord Rimuru. I am always at your service,” he declared, his deep voice filled with unwavering loyalty.

Shirou watched as the towering hobgoblin bowed low, his posture respectful but radiating authority. Rimuru gave a small, satisfied nod before turning on their heel and striding toward the tent’s exit. Despite their casual air, Shirou noted how quickly they moved—there was no hesitation in their step. Whatever was happening, it required their immediate attention.

As Rimuru slipped outside, Shirou’s gaze lingered on the tent flap swaying shut behind them. There was something about their sudden shift that unsettled him. For all of Rimuru’s easy charm, they clearly weren’t taking whatever message they’d received lightly.

Rigurd’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Well then,” the goblin king said, his tone warming as he turned to face them, “if you will follow me, I would be honored to show you around our humble village.”

…

“Ara~ Ara~ Thanks for your kind hospitality.” Irisviel thanked with a warm smile, lifting the delicate porcelain cup to her lips. The scent of the tea—fragrant and surprisingly rich—lingered pleasantly as she took a gentle sip.

“It’s my pleasure to help those in need,” came the smooth reply.

The speaker leaned back comfortably in his seat, his posture relaxed yet oddly refined. He was a young man, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, with a lean frame and an easy-going air. His sharp, reddish-brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and a touch of playful curiosity, as though he found endless amusement in the world around him. Tousled dark brown hair framed his face, giving him a casual charm that seemed deliberately effortless.

He wore a crisp white mandarin-collared uniform that stood out starkly against the warm wooden tones of the room. The outfit was simple yet immaculate, fastened with a single deep blue cord near the collar that added a splash of color. Despite the formal cut, he carried himself with the ease of someone used to authority—but without the stiffness that usually accompanied it.

His smile was friendly—almost too friendly—and there was a lightness in his voice that suggested he was the type who rarely took things at face value. Even as he played the perfect host, there was a hint of something beneath the surface—something calculating.

Setting down his own cup with deliberate grace, he tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his next words. “It’s not every day we get such… interesting visitors,” he added, his smile widening just a fraction.

Irisviel’s silver hair shimmered softly in the light as she lowered her cup to its saucer, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “You’re quite gracious,” she remarked, her tone as light and pleasant as ever—but there was a glint in her crimson eyes that suggested she wasn’t so easily swayed by charm alone.

The young man chuckled softly. “Gracious? Maybe,” he mused, tapping a finger lightly against the edge of his cup. “But you’ll find I’m more curious than anything else. After all, strangers who show up unannounced usually bring the most… intriguing stories.”

The young man gestured idly with one hand, the motion smooth and theatrical—too smooth, as if every movement was calculated for effect. “But where are my manners?” His voice softened into an elegant cadence, rich with an effortless charm that didn’t quite mask the intelligence lurking beneath. His reddish-brown eyes gleamed with amusement as they swept over the room, taking in every detail. “Allow me to properly welcome you. My name is Yuuki Kagurazaka. Consider me the one who keeps things running around here.”

Across from her, Illyasviel leaned back against the plush cushions of her chair, looking as though she might doze off at any moment. Her long silver hair spilled over her shoulders like a shimmering curtain, but her ruby-red eyes sparkled with curiosity as she observed Yuuki. She tilted her head, her expression a mixture of intrigue and playful skepticism.

“So, you’re the one in charge here?” Illya mused, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. “I expected someone a little… older.”

Seated beside her, Miyu Edelfelt sipped her tea quietly, her expression as unreadable as ever. If Illya was playful and teasing, Miyu was the opposite—calm, composed, and far more serious than any child her age had the right to be. Her short black hair framed her delicate face, and her sapphire-blue eyes reflected a quiet intelligence. Even as Yuuki spoke, her gaze remained steady—watching, listening, assessing.

On Illya’s other side, Chloe von Einzbern—or Kuro, as she preferred—smirked as she lounged in her seat with the kind of easy confidence that came naturally to her. Her tanned skin and wine-colored eyes stood out in sharp contrast to Illya’s pale complexion, but the mischievous glint in her gaze was all her own. A teasing smile curled her lips as she stretched her arms above her head, the motion languid and deliberately carefree.

“And here I thought the guy running this place would be boring,” she quipped, her voice light but edged with a playful challenge. With a dramatic sigh, she let her arms fall back behind her head before flashing Yuuki a bright, almost flirtatious grin. “Guess I was wrong. You’ve got style, I’ll give you that.”

Her words hung in the air, a deliberate test to see how much she could push. That was Kuro’s way—always poking, always provoking, just to see how the world would react.

Beside her, Miyu Edelfelt shifted slightly, her posture more reserved but no less attentive. She remained quiet, her hands neatly folded in her lap, but her eyes—calm, calculating—never left Yuuki. Compared to Kuro’s casual bravado, Miyu’s quiet presence seemed almost too still, like the surface of a lake hiding unseen depths. Whatever thoughts were running through her mind, she kept them to herself, but there was no mistaking the subtle weight of her focus.

As for their friends, they were currently huddled up in a loose pile, sleeping soundly on one of the room’s large sofas. Their soft, even breaths were the only sign of ease in a room otherwise steeped in quiet tension. The contrast was almost amusing—while the younger children dozed in peaceful oblivion, the older ones watched, weighed, and measured every word exchanged.

Yuuki’s smile never wavered. If the girls’ casual remarks or the quiet scrutiny from the others bothered him, he hid it well beneath a façade of polished charm. Leaning back in his chair, he rested one hand against the armrest, fingers tapping in a slow, rhythmic pattern that suggested a mind always working behind the scenes.

“Well, I do try,” he answered smoothly, his tone warm and unbothered. “It’s not easy keeping a place like this together. But, with the right people, you’d be surprised what you can accomplish.”

In the background, Bazett idly flipped through a thick, leather-bound book that Yuuki had provided. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the pages with the detached focus of a professional always ready to spring into action. Though her posture was relaxed, the way her muscles subtly tensed beneath her suit betrayed her readiness. She wasn’t one to let her guard down completely.

A few feet away, Caren appeared far more at ease. The pale-haired exorcist lounged elegantly in her chair, one leg draped over the other, her lavender eyes glinting with quiet amusement as she skimmed through a slim volume. Though she gave the impression of being detached, the faint smirk on her lips suggested that she found Yuuki’s performance at least mildly entertaining.

Rider, meanwhile, stood by the window, her back partially turned to the room. Long strands of violet hair cascaded down her back in shimmering waves, almost brushing the floor as she gazed idly outside. The soft light from the window framed her silhouette, casting an ethereal glow around her tall, graceful form. Despite her stillness, there was a tension to the way she held herself—shoulders relaxed but not slouched, head tilted slightly as if she were listening to something beyond what the others could perceive.

Her expression was hidden behind the curtain of her hair, but Irisviel knew better —Rider wasn’t one to let her guard down, no matter how casual she appeared. There was a quiet, lethal elegance to her, a reminder that beneath her calm demeanor lay the instincts of a predator. Even now, the faintest hum of latent power seemed to ripple around her, subtle but undeniable—a presence too large to be ignored. It wasn’t aggressive, not exactly, but it was there—a constant reminder that, if she wished, she could end a conversation with steel instead of words.

Beside her stood Kiritsugu, as still and quiet as the shadow he had always been. The contrast between them was striking—where Rider exuded an otherworldly grace, Kiritsugu was cold efficiency personified. His dark coat hung loosely around his lean frame, the slight weight of it adding to the air of quiet menace that followed him.

“Considering your status as Otherworlders, I can offer a place for you and your family to stay while you settle into this place,” he said, his voice smooth and measured. The offer sounded generous on the surface—too generous, perhaps—but there was an edge beneath his words that Illya couldn’t quite ignore. Something about the way he spoke, the effortless charm in his tone, felt too polished, too practiced.

He’s not doing this out of the kindness of his heart, she thought, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. People like Yuuki didn’t extend a helping hand without expecting something in return. What that something was remained a mystery—but for now, it didn’t matter. As long as they had a roof over their heads, they could worry about his true motives later. Survival came first. Everything else could wait.
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And finished! What do you guys think? Is this chapter decent?

Now that this is finished, I'll be going back to work on the next chapter of Fate/DXD: Infernal Order and then I'll get to work on finally updating The Multiversal Playthrough story which yes I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a long while that's because I ended up procrastinating on it a bit to much and put it on the back burner, so I will be working on two chapters for that one and then I'll bring it over to AO3 as well.

Now then, I want to clarify that some of the characters are a bit different due to the fact their from different timelines so Shirou and his lovers from the Heaven's Feel Route are in their late 20's while for the Illyaverse/Miyuverse characters that have been brought over like Illya and Miyu will be 10 years old.

Now, I want to clarify on servant skills and abilities. Because they're in a new world where the laws of magic are a bit different, some of their skills have been converted and transitioned over to the new magic system while staying largely the same.

So, something like a Reality Marble is a skill itself due to being adapted to the Tensura's magic system, however, it is a subclass of Ultimate Skills called a Soul Skill. Noble Phantasms are also considered Soul Skills and require large amounts of magicules/prana to pull off.

Now Soul Skills are a new type of skill that came into existence when the Reverse Side of the World was forcefully merged with Tensura.

Now, I'm not going to explain any more than what I've already said cause I still want to do some world building through the story itself and not through the authors note like I'm doing right now.

Now, have a good one and see you guys next time!