"Dad! You're back!"
Raika jerked her head so fast toward the sound that she almost gave herself whiplash.
Two small figures bolted from one of the training areas, their tiny feet kicking up snow as they dashed at full speed toward the man they apparently called Dad.
Mr. Vastarael, the cold, mysterious enigma they'd all been silently terrified of, smiled. No, he didn't just smile. His entire expression softened like melted snow sliding off a rooftop. He opened his arms just as the two girls collided into him with squeals, nearly knocking him off balance. Nearly.
"There's my little storms," he said, one arm around each of them as they clung to his coat. "Let me see you. Runner, did you master the maneuver?"
The white-haired girl beamed up at him with the kind of brightness that could blind a night god. Her hair looked like frost spun into silk, and her icy blue eyes gleamed with pride.
"Mhm! I hit the target six times today and only one of them exploded early! I only fell once too!" She said, pumping her small fist into the air.
"Exploded…?" Raika blinked.
"And you, Shimmer?" Vastarael turned to the auburn-haired girl with golden eyes that matched his own in hue but sparkled with a cheekier light. Shimmer crossed her arms, pouting.
"Obsidian's mean. She keeps saying I'm being sloppy, but I did break three of her attacks today!"
Behind her, Obsidian let out a tiny snort.
"Sloppy and stubborn," she muttered under her breath, arms crossed. "But I'll admit it, she's going to be stronger than me by the time she's twelve. If she survives the next few years, that is."
Shimmer turned to her with a wide grin and threw up both arms. She puffed out her chest and stood taller—well, as tall as a nine-year-old could.
"Stronger than Obsidian! You hear that, Dad? Stronger than your most annoying knight!"
"I'm not annoying," Obsidian grunted. "I'm just intolerant of children with pride issues."
"She's just mad I beat her in front of everyone," Shimmer said in a stage whisper that made Raika choke on her breath.
Raika, Zarvana, and the rest of the team stood there, frozen like statues. Not from fear this time, but pure, uncut disbelief. Two children had just declared that they could handle weapons and outmatch a knight who looked like she could punt a mammoth. And not just any knight, one of Mr. Vastarael's strongest knights.
Mr. Vastarael himself turned back to Raika's group, still smiling fondly as he placed a hand on each of the girls' heads.
"These two are my daughters. This is Runner," he said, nodding toward the white-haired one who gave an excited wave. "And this little one here is Shimmer."
Raika tried to wave back but realized her arm had gone numb from shock. Zarvana, next to her, managed a stiff nod, but her eye twitched.
"How… old?" Someone from the team croaked.
"Nine," Vastarael said nonchalantly. "Almost ten. You should've seen them last year. They couldn't break a boulder properly."
"Break… a boulder?!" another whispered.
Shimmer tugged on her father's coat. "Dad, can I show them my flaming knee-spin?"
"No. Not near guests. And not after last time. My camp smelled like roasted stag meat for a week."
"That wasn't my fault, the stag ran into me!"
"And you kicked it with enough friction to make it burn. I had to use my scent to cover it up but only made it weirder..."
Runner giggled beside them, pressing her cheek against Vastarael's waist like it was the most natural place in the world to be.
"They're scared of us," she whispered to him, not very quietly.
"Shh, manners," he whispered back. Then to the team. "Don't worry. They've only accidentally hospitalized thirteen of my knights this week."
"This week?" Raika repeated, her voice cracking.
Zarvana stared at the girls, her pride crumbling like stale bread in water. One look was all it took. These two small, squishy children—well, they looked squishy—were stronger than her. Stronger than a woman who had once suplexed a beast with one arm. She had spent years becoming the strongest in her region. Now she had been outclassed by someone who knew nothing of war.
"Would you like to spar with them?" Vastarael asked casually, watching the color drain from every single face in their group. Raika laugh was high-pitched and a little hysterical.
"Oh. Oh, no. That's… very kind of you. But I think we'll pass."
"I wasn't asking," he teased with a smirk.
"DAD!" Both girls chimed in unison, grinning now.
"She's gonna pee herself," Shimmer whispered, pointing at one of the scouts.
"Stop that," Vastarael scolded, flicking her forehead gently. "What have I said about humiliating strangers?"
"They're not strangers anymore," Shimmer argued. "You said they were guests."
"That doesn't mean you insult them on arrival."
"Can I insult them after dinner?"
"No."
"Can I—"
"No."
Runner reached up and grabbed Vastarael's hand. "Can we have dinner with them, at least? I wanna know where they're from!"
"Later," he said, patting her head. "For now, go back to your quarters. You still haven't eaten have you? Obsidian, send someone to prepare the guest tents."
"Already done, Master."
"Chainless," he called, glancing toward the golden-haired woman still lounging with her chains. "You've been silent."
They all looked at Chainless, who only looked at him. To the shock of the guests, it seemed as if Mr. Vastarael understood her look.
"Oh. Well then, I suggest you can continue training with her."
Shimmer sighed, "How can you understand her? Only you, Chrysanthemum and Obsidian can."
"Instinct," the three said in unison.
Raika blinked slowly, not sure if she had entered some fever dream.
Zarvana placed a hand on her shoulder. "...I think we've joined a cult."
Raika whispered, "I think it might be safer here than anywhere else."
The camp buzzed with strange energy. Nothing about it was traditional, or expected. It was powerful, yes, but also bizarre, quirky, and full of strange inside jokes and rules she didn't understand. Mr. Vastarael wasn't just a leader. He was the kind of man who tamed chaos and somehow made it obey.
Raika exhaled. "We're doomed."
"Speak for yourself," one of the guards said behind her. "I think I just found the love of my life."
"You're talking about Obsidian, aren't you?"
"No. The small one with ice-blue eyes."
"…You want to die?"
The camp, it turned out, was not the terrifying militant prison they had feared. No... it was a circus of powerful monsters disguised as humans. And their ringmaster was a man with a smile, two overpowered daughters, and a terrifying ability to casually break their concept of reality.
Just as Raika was beginning to think things couldn't get any weirder than two nine-year-olds casually threatening to kill her, a rumbling sound rolled through the camp.
Then they saw it.
A group of knights, no less than twenty of them, emerged from the white frostline beyond the crystalline tents, each one groaning under the sheer weight of what they were hauling on their shoulders.
It was massive.
Raika's mouth went dry. Zarvana's breath hitched. Even the more seasoned members of their company gasped.
Because what the knights were carrying... wasn't just meat.
It was a Highland Boar.
Towering at nearly seven meters, with curling tusks as long as tree branches and hide that looked like it had been carved from stone and pain, the beast was a walking fortress of doom. Or at least, it had been before someone, or something, had turned it into tonight's dinner.
Its thick, tundra-bark fur was matted with dried blood, the eyes had long glazed over, and its sheer weight made even the burliest knights shake with effort as they worked together to drag it onto a gigantic boned-crystal slab.
Raika didn't know whether to vomit or applaud. Shimmer and Runner, on the other hand, went wild.
"WOOO!" Shimmer shrieked, jumping into the air and nearly elbowing Runner in the face. "That's a Highland Boar! That's a Highland Boar! Look at the tusks!"
Runner practically vibrated with joy, her eyes sparkling like storm-lit sapphires. "We're gonna have a feast! Boar ribs! Boar tongue stew! Boar tendon jelly!"
"I call the crispy fat!" Shimmer said, already drooling.
"No fair! You had it last time!"
Mr. Vastarael turned to look back at the group of stunned visitors, his expression as calm as ever, as if someone hadn't just casually delivered the fantasy equivalent of a giant-sized pig into the center of his war camp.
Veyn stepped forward and pointed a trembling finger at the still-smoking corpse.
"H-How did you… hunt that thing?"
Vastarael gave a small, almost bored shrug.
"Oh. We leave that sort of thing to the weakest of my knights."
There was silence. A long, painful, brain-breaking silence.
"…Your weakest?" Raika echoed, her voice cracking like brittle glass.
"Yes. Hunting boars is part of their basic endurance rotation. It keeps their spirits high. They call it the 'Casual Death March.' Wonder why they call it that. We make them do it shirtless, too. Builds morale. Or frostbite. We're not picky."
"And... this… entire thing," Zarvana gestured to the fallen boar, her voice rising with desperation, "you expect to finish eating tonight?"
"Of course," Vastarael said simply, then rolled his shoulder with a sigh. "I have six hundred knights under my command. Chainless, Obsidian, and Chrysanthemum each have their own regiments of two hundred each. And trust me when I say, they eat like dragons with tapeworms."
Obsidian smirked darkly. "Last week, Chrysanthemum alone ate half a tundra fish. Said it tasted like stringy chicken."
Raika's face twitched. "What do you people eat for breakfast? Sunlight and terror?"
"Mostly boiled eggs," Shimmer piped in, holding up two fingers. "And sometimes stag eyeballs! When we're lucky. Who knew eyeballs would be tasty?"
"Stop talking about eyeballs," Runner groaned. "You made Chainless throw up last week."
"She always throws up if she sees them. Why do you always do that?"
Arletta didn't say a thing.
At this point, Raika was just trying not to cry.
Vastarael glanced at the visitors again. "Feel free to look around the camp. See how we live, train, and operate. But don't start a fight. If you do, I won't stop my knights from defending themselves. And if they do that, you will die painfully."
A few members of the team instinctively took a step back.
"They don't stir up trouble unless provoked," Vastarael added, dusting his coat like he was brushing off snowflakes. "But provoke them? They bite."
He turned toward Zarvana. "Now, come. You and I have much to discuss."
Zarvana blinked, then quickly composed herself. "Of course."
She followed him through the snowy path toward a large sapphire-blue tent, its flaps held by coiling crystal threads. As they disappeared, Obsidian clapped once to gather the kids' attention.
"You two. Tour duty."
Runner saluted. "Aye aye, General Crankypants!"
"I'll bury you in the snow one day," Obsidian muttered without heat.
"YAY! Camp tour!" Shimmer spun in place, kicking snow at Raika and Veyn. "Come on, let's ask Vienna to give us extra crispy boar meat today!"
"YES! With the golden sauce!"
"You mean the spicy one?"
"Exactly. I'm really glad Fool's Copy exists."
As the kids bolted ahead to begin their enthusiastic and slightly terrifying tour, Raika stood frozen in place.
"…Are we sure this isn't a cult?" She whispered to Veyn.
"Even cults don't feed their members this well."
Raika sighed, "Great. We joined the apocalypse led by a handsome warlord with adorable demon kids."
"I think I'm okay with that," Veyn admitted.
Raika glanced up at the towering Highland Boar carcass, still steaming in the snow, then at the giggling children who could probably break her spine for fun.
"…Yeah," she muttered. "Me too."