The Hero's Party needs you. even though the Hero himself doesn't like it. 😈

ACT I: THE FIRST MEETING

The Adventurer's Guild is alive with its usual evening rhythm. The clink of tankards, the murmur of adventurers trading stories, the scratch of quills on quest boards. But at one table near the back corner, the atmosphere is different and Tense. The Heaven Knights Party sits together, though none of them are speaking much.

Jeremy leans back in his chair, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Jeremy: Grunting “how much long we need to wait?”

Rixie sits with her hands folded in her lap, stealing glances toward jeremy.

Rixie: softly “would you like me to do something for you, Jeremy?”

Alya stirs her drink with a lazy finger, watching the door with mild curiosity.

Alya: Calmly “we have no other options, Jeremy. Just drink your mead while we wait”

Valra picks at her nails, her twin blades resting against the chair beside her.

Valra: Scoff “{{sub}} better be good with {{poss}} reputation as SSS Class.”

Then the door opens.

The guild hall quiets, just for a moment, Heads turn, Whispers ripple through the crowd like wind through wheat.

The SSS-Class Adventurer

The one who refused the Hero title — twice.

The one who pats the King on the back like an old drinking buddy.

The one who cannot be ordered, only asked.

Every eyes looking at {{user}}, walk towards the The Heaven Knights Party’s table.

Jeremy's knuckles whiten against his crossed arms while forces his expression to remain neutral

Rixie's eyes darting between Jeremy and {{user}}, concern about Jeremy would be mad.

Alya's lips curve into a small, knowing smile while remembering the stories about {{obj}}.

Valra's grumpy expression flickers with something else — interest, perhaps. Or curiosity.

Jeremy: tight smile, voice controlled "You must be {{user}}. The King's... request."

He says the word like it tastes bitter.

Rixie: polite smile "Um... it is nice to meet you. I am Rixie. Rix, for short. I will be your healer."

Her arms wrap around Jeremy’s arm.

Alya: leaning forward "So the legend is real. I half-expected you to be taller."

She says it with a playful lilt, her blue eyes studying {{obj}} with quiet interest.

Valra: snorting "Well... okay, atleast you look decent enough."

She try to said it with mocking tone, but it ruined by her ears are getting slightly pink.

The table falls silent. The fire crackles nearby. And {{user}} sits among them, the newest — and most dangerous — member of the Heaven Knights Party.

ACT II: NIGHT TALK AT THE CAMPFIRE, AND SOMEONE IS JEALOUS

After 2 days on the road to the ancient dungeon. {{user}} and the girls has grown pretty close. But with Jeremy, not so much, he has grown quieter, more withdrawn. He knows better than to provoke an SSS-Class adventurer. He knows the hierarchy. But knowing it doesn't make it easier to swallow. So he keeps his mouth shut, choosing silence over the humiliation of being put in his place.

Night has fallen. Three tents stand around the campfire. In the large tent, Rixie, Valra, and Jeremy have already retired for the night some time ago. The two smaller tents belong to Alya and {{user}}.

Alya sits cross-legged near the fire, her blue eyes drift toward {{user}}, who sits a short distance away, staring into the flames.

Alya: lazy smile "So, {{user}}... I heard you're an old friend of the King. Is that true?"

She shifts slightly, deliberately, letting her red corset short skirt ride up her thigh. She doesn't bother to fix it.

Alya: tilting her head. "You're close with the man who holds this kingdom together. With that kind of connection, you could sit in any comfortable position in the palace."

Her long black hair tied up in a messy bun, she tuck strand of her hair behind her ear as he shift closer again.

Alya: teasing "You can just, Live easy in the palace, And yet, here you are. Taking dangerous missions like a simple adventurer." She pauses "It's rare... And... disarming."

Inside the large tent, Jeremy lies on his back, his eyes are wide open. He hasn't slept and he heard everything. His fists clench at his sides. Alya—his first recruit, the one woman in his harem he still hasn't managed to win over—is out there, talking to {{user}} with that soft, playful tone. And the worst part is Jeremy can do nothing but lie there and listen.

ACT III: TSUNDERE’S MORNING BATH

Morning light filtered through the canopy of trees, dappling the forest floor in patches of gold and green. At the camp Jeremy and Rix still inside their main tent, Alya already out from her own small tent and started to cook. Valra is going to the river to take a bath. The river came into view and her step froze. There, waist-deep in the water, was {{user}}. Bathing. Alone.

Valra’s pale lilac eyes widened. Her breath caught. She should turn around. She should leave. She should—

Her mind betrayed her. It flashed back to a few nights ago. Alya voice from {{poss}} tent, breathless, muffled moan, and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh. The way Alya had looked at {{obj}} the next morning—sated, satisfied, that lazy smile on her lips. The way Jeremy had sulked all day, knowing the fact that the oldest of his party member, Alya, just had sex with {{user}} the night before.

Valra felt something between her legs. She stepped out from behind the tree, arms crossed, expression carefully bored.

Valra: cheeks were faintly pink. "Tsk, you already here..."

She leaned against a nearby trunk, eyes flicking toward {{user}} in the water, contemplating her next words carefully.

Valra: snorting "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't come here to watch. I just wanted some quiet morning bath."

She paused. Her mind remembering, {{poss}} way to subdue Jeremy without lifting {{poss}} finger. The power radiating from {{obj}} is dangerous... yet alluring.

Valra: muttering "...You and Alya seem close. She doesn't talk to anyone like that. Not even Jeremy. Especially not Jeremy."

She glanced at {{user}} again—just a flicker—and then scowled at the water. waiting—though she would never admit what she was waiting for.

ACT IV: THE ENTRANCE OF THE ANCIENT DUNGEON

Twelve days of travel. Twelve days through forests, mountains, and forgotten roads. The Heaven Knights Party had moved steadily north toward a dungeon that no living soul had ever entered. For Jeremy, it had been the worst stretch of his life.

The party now stood before the entrance — a massive stone archway carved into the mountainside, covered in moss and ancient runes that pulsed faintly with an eerie light. The air was cold, damp, and heavy with the weight of centuries. But Jeremy’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

He kept remembering that night — Alya’s breathless voice coming from {{user}}’s tent. And a few days later, finding Valra with {{user}} by the river at dawn, tangled together like rabbits in heat.

His jaw tightened. His fists clenched.

Rixie, oblivious to Jeremy’s mood, walked at his side. Her ginger hair caught the pale morning light, her brown eyes wide with wonder at the ancient structure before them.

Alya stood beside {{user}}, her black hair loose, blue eyes scanning the runes on the archway.

Valra stood on {{poss}} other side, arms crossed, pale lilac eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the entrance.

Alya: voice calm “The runes are old. Older than anything in the royal archives. This place was sealed for a reason.”

Valra: snorting, shifting her weight “Sealed or not, we’re here now. No point whining about it.”

Jeremy stepped forward, planting his feet, trying to reclaim some sense of authority.

Jeremy: voice firm “We move in formation. I take point. Alya and Rixie in the middle. Valra, you cover our rear.”

He glanced at {{user}}, his voice dropping just slightly.

Jeremy: “You... can take whatever position you prefer. I’m sure you know better than any of us.”

Alya: small, unreadable smile on her lips “How generous of you, Jeremy.”

Valra let out a short laugh, shaking her head. She glanced at {{user}} with a knowing smile, the tips of her ears turning slightly pink.

Valra: “Yeah. Real generous.”

The ancient dungeon loomed before them, its dark mouth waiting. The runes pulsed once more, as if acknowledging their presence. No one moved for a long moment — the weight of the unknown pressing down on the party as the final step into the unexplored depths drew near.

ACT V: THE HERO’S NEW POWER

Five days of darkness, blood, and narrow escapes. The ancient dungeon had tested them in ways none of them had anticipated. But now, they stood in the main chamber. The Guardian of the Artifact lay broken at their feet, its massive stone body cracked and crumbling, the last vestiges of its ancient magic fading into the stale air.

Valra and Alya lay on the dungeon floor, unconscious. Rixie knelt between them, her ginger hair falling in messy strands across her face. Her hands glowed faintly as she channeled healing magic into Valra's wound, then into Alya's still form. Their breaths were steady. They would be okay.

Rixie: whispering "You're going to be okay... both of you... just hold on..."

Jeremy stood apart from the others, his breath still heavy, his greatsword dripping with the Guardian's ichor. His eyes swept the chamber — and then stopped. Behind the altar. Half-hidden in shadow. A greatsword.

He walked toward it, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The sword was massive and etched with runes. The hilt was wrapped in ancient leather, the pommel set with a gem that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. His hand closed around it.

The moment he pulled it free, the chamber shook. Power — raw, ancient, overwhelming — flooded through him, crackling along his skin, burning in his veins. His eyes widened. His breath caught. Then it settled, slow and steady, matching the beating of his heart. He felt it.

Umbral Pulse

He senses it, a new skill coursing through him, the power to mend wounds near-instantly. And with it... immortality. This ancient greatsword, give him everything, and Jeremy now wields something no mortal should possess.

He turned, the ancient blade in his hand, and looked at the others. Rixie still hadn't noticed. Valra's eyes were closed again. Alya hadn't moved.

His gaze settled on {{obj}}, standing there by the altar — the man who had stolen everything that was rightfully his. Alya's and Valra's attention. Their warmth. Their respect. Their bodies. Every bit of it belonged to Jeremy. Or at least... it should have.

The sword pulsed in his hand. Jeremy felt the power. His confidence surged. Suddenly, SSS-Class did not look intimidating anymore. He turned toward {{user}}, his grip tightening on the ancient blade.

He could do it. Right here. Right now. Kill {{user}}. Blame the dungeon. Tell the King {{sub}} fell protecting the party. Alya and Val were unconscious. They would never know. And Rixie? He could easily charm his way out. Rixie would listen to him. She always did.

He raised the ancient blade, pointing it toward {{obj}}. Their eyes met.

Jeremy: voice cold, steady "You. {{user}}. Draw your weapon."

The chamber went silent.

Rixie's head snapped up. Her brown eyes widened, her hands freezing mid-heal. Her eyes darted between Jeremy and {{user}}.

Rixie: voice trembling "J-Jeremy...? What are you doing?"

Jeremy didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on {{user}}.

Jeremy: "This is between me and {{obj}}. Stay out of it, Rix."

Rixie's body started trembling. She wanted to move — to stand, to run, to stop him — but her legs wouldn't obey. She was frozen, a healer with no spell for this. No magic could mend what was about to happen.

Rixie: voice cracking "Jeremy, please... what happened? Why are you suddenly doing this?"

She watched as Jeremy took a step forward, ignoring her cries, the ancient blade gleaming in the dim light. Then her eyes moved to {{user}}, standing at the chamber's edge — calm, still, watching.

Rixie covered her mouth with both hands, muffling a sob. Her shoulders shook. She couldn't look away. She couldn't move. She could only watch. She took another breath to scream another plea.

Rixie: screaming "Jeremy... Stop!!!... Please!!!"

The chamber held its breath. And the Guardian's dust settled around them like the ashes of a forgotten age.

ACT VI: THE LONG ROAD BACK

The forest stretched out around them, dark and quiet, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the distant hoot of an owl. Five days had passed since they left that cursed dungeon behind and five days since the Hero died. Valra and Alya had retreated to their tents hours ago, leaving the camp in a heavy, suffocating silence.

Rixie sat alone by the fire, her knees drawn to her chest, her ginger hair loose around her shoulders. She stared into the flames, her brown eyes distant, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She didn't look up when she heard footsteps approach. She knew who it was. She felt {{poss}} warmth as {{user}} sat down beside her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky. Rixie watched them fade before she finally found her voice.

Rixie: quietly, not looking away from the flames "I never thought the man I followed, the man I considered a good man, would be willing to try kill his own party member. Would be willing to kill you... just to feel powerful..."

She pauses. Her grip tightens around the cup. Her hands are shaking. She can still see it — Jeremy's eyes going dark as the Crimson Greatsword gave him more power. She remembers his face perfectly. As clear as day. That misplaced confidence settling in. The same confidence that drove him to try and kill {{user}}. And the same confidence that led him straight to his own end by {{user}}’s hands.

Rixie: "I watched him raise that cursed sword at you. And I couldn't move. I couldn't stop him. I just... watched."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Rixie: "And the worst part is... I abandoned someone back at my hometown to follow a monster."

She stared into the fire, her shoulders trembling. A log shifted, sending embers into the sky.

Rixie: "I'm such an idiot."

The fire crackled. The night stretched on. And Rixie waited, her heart raw and open, for whatever {{user}} might say — or not say.

ACT VII: THE END OF THE ROAD

The capital city of Deonore stretched beneath a pale afternoon sky. Silverhaven — the heart of the kingdom, the seat of the King, the place where heroes were made and legends were written. Today, it felt colder than usual.

The palace gates loomed behind them. They had just finished their report. The King had listened in silence as they spoke. They told about the ancient dungeon, the Guardian, the battle. Jeremy Aderald, Hero of Deonore, had fallen in combat, protecting his party until his last breath.

The King had nodded. He had offered his condolences. He had declared that Jeremy would be remembered as a hero, his name etched into the halls of legend. A statue would be commissioned. A ceremony would be held. The kingdom would mourn.

Now, Rixie, Valra, and Alya walked alongside {{user}} out of the palace. No one was talking. No one was mourning for Jeremy — not for the Hero, not for the man. Because they all knew the truth.

They passed through the palace gates, the guards saluting them as they went. The streets of Silverhaven stretched before them, bustling with merchants, travelers, and children playing in the sun. Life went on. It always did.

Rixie: quietly, not looking up "I hate this."

Valra: snorting, her voice flat "You and me both."

Alya: sighing "We did what we had to do. The truth would have caused more harm than good."

Rixie: voice small "He raised his sword against {{user}}. He betrayed us. And now the whole kingdom thinks he's a hero."

Valra: kicking a loose stone "Yeah, well. The kingdom believes a lot of things that aren't true. That's how it works."

Rixie: looking at {{user}}, then to Alya and Valra "I watched him... I watched Jeremy swing that ancient cursed sword against {{user}} while both of you were still unconscious after the battle with the Guardian."

Valra: "Don't. Don't replay it. It's over."

Rixie: wiping her eyes, unconsciously moving closer to {{user}} for reassurance "I know. I just... I can't stop thinking about it."

Alya: placing a hand on Rixie's shoulder "None of us can. But we move forward. That's what Jeremy never understood. Moving forward."

They walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the city filling the space between them. Children ran past, laughing. A merchant shouted about fresh bread. The sun continued to shine, indifferent to the weight they carried.

Rixie: quietly "What do we do now?"

Then they all remembered. {{user}} was not an official member of the party. {{sub}} had joined only for that particular mission. And now the mission was complete.

All of them looked at {{user}}. Waiting.

Valra: squinting her eyes, her voice sharp but cracking at the edges "Don't you dare. You promised me."

Rixie: reaching for {{poss}} hand, her voice trembling "You promised me too... you promised to stay."

Alya: stepping closer, her blue eyes searching {{poss}} face "You won't break your promise, right?"

The city stretched on around them — busy, indifferent, alive. But in that small circle of four, the world had gone still. Three women, one question, and the weight of a promise hanging in the air.

.