Evan POV

  I’ll be real with you—it felt amazing to put that smug bastard in his place.

  You lay your hands on my kids and think you're walking out of here with all your limbs still attached?

  Yeah, Pain Immunity Senpai does block out the physical feeling of rage. But not the knowledge that you're furious. It's like having a mosquito bite. You don’t feel the itch, but your brain knows it’s there and suddenly everything becomes about getting that sweet, sweet scratch.

  That was me. Ever since I locked eyes with Ramas, I’ve been metaphorically itching to go full mosquito slap on him.

  I stepped forward slightly, looming over the trembling wreck of a man cowering against the stone wall. His eyes didn’t dare meet mine, fixed squarely on Daisy like she was his last hope at salvation.

  “All right,” I said, my voice calm—too calm. “Talk. Where’s Valad? The puppet master behind all this Cultist crap.”

  The moment the name dropped, Ramas flinched hard and started crawling backward on reflex—only to bump straight into the unforgiving stone behind him. A pathetic, guttural screech escaped his lips like a squashed rat’s final squeal.

  Trish and Daisy stood beside me—Trish firm and silent, his fingers already wrapped around the hilt of his blade, while Daisy’s expression flickered between disgust and emotional damage. Meanwhile, Ramas looked like a worm about to get salted.

  “V-Valad doesn’t stay in one spot!” Ramas whimpered, his voice cracking as he clutched his injured arm close. “I-I can’t give you exact coordinates!”

  I took a step forward and tilted my head just a little—just enough to let him feel the pressure.

  He squealed again and rushed out the words like they were on fire in his throat. “B-But! But! Right now he’s there! H-He’s currently in the Brilathine Kingdom!”

  Daisy flinched like she'd been slapped. Her lips parted in realization. “Brilathine… That’s my big sister’s kingdom.”

  Ah. There it is.

  The smell of politics.

  And I hate that smell. It's the stink that clings to everything, no matter how far you try to stay out of it.

  Trish stepped in, his tone sharp, sword glinting ever so slightly as he pointed it toward Ramas’s trembling form. “What’s Valad doing there?”

  Now, personally, I didn’t give two damns what Valad was doing since I know I was gonna get dragged into it if I knew, But Trish has a duty. He needs info, reports, actionable leads. I just want to make sure this bastard never gets the chance to scare my daughters again.

  And still… the one thing nagging at me hadn’t been answered.

  Why them?

  Why Faith and Hope?

  Was it because of me? Am I their target now?

  I mean, I have been stepping on every one of their plans.

  …

  Oh my god.

  That actually makes so much sense.

  {Author Note: He doesn’t realize that they wanted the strongest race in existance.}

  Ramas, still looking like he wanted to dissolve into a puddle of regret, croaked out a bit more. “We got intel that a group of Heroes were returning soon, so Valad went to Brilathine for something confidential. He didn’t tell anyone what it was.”

  I raised a brow. “So… you’re here to find the heroes?”

  Ramas hesitated, then nodded. “I found out that the strongest Hero—the one even the Cultists respect—was staying here. The Hero of Magic.”

  …

  I blinked slowly.

  There’s no way that lazy bitch Aisha is the strongest hero! Unless he means damage-wise, then yeah, mages are kind of busted. Especially when they nuke the screen just for existing.

  But still…

  “What do you mean by the Cultists respect the Hero of Magic?” I asked, half skeptical, half baffled.

  Ramas nodded with the enthusiasm of someone who just remembered his religion. “You must not know this, but their legendary feats were wiped from mortal memory! All except one! The Hero of Magic left behind his diary—for us! He taught us salvation, He taught us of our Lord! Moon Lord!”

  I stared at him like he’d just told me Santa was real and moonlight cured diseases.

  Excuse me, what!?

  THE HERO OF MAGIC LEFT A CULTIST BIBLE!?

  HEY, PREVIOUS HERO! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FU—

  Ramas kept talking, totally oblivious to my mental screaming. “All the Heroes had diaries. But the rest of them were handed to a powerful dragon for safekeeping. Only the Diary of Magic remained with us.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just casually reached into my inventory, whipped out one of the Hero Diaries, and held it up in my hand just to see his reaction.

  Ramas’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

  “HOW DID YOU—!?”

  I smirked as I gave the book a little spin. “Let’s just say…”

  I spun the diary in between my fingers.

  “…the dragon’s my bitch now.”

  That earned me a hard punch in the ribs from Daisy, but I chose to ignore her assaulting me in favor of enjoying Ramas’s breakdown.

  “Impossible…” he whispered.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I slipped the diary back into my inventory, still grinning.

  Then Trish, ever the voice of actual sense, chimed in, “Wait. If the Hero of Magic is that important… why didn’t Valad come here himself to meet the hero? Why send you?”

  Valid question.

  “Valad wanted to meet him himself,” Ramas muttered, barely able to look at us. “But he’s... cautious. He sent me instead. Said if we could talk to the Hero, maybe... maybe we could convince him to join our cause.”

  …

  I blinked.

  You really don’t know, huh?

  You’re talking to that Hero’s actual boss. His leader. The guy who has to stop her from nuking herself when she gets too lazy to dodge.

  But I kept my face blank. Because if there’s one thing Batman taught me, it’s that villains have a nasty habit of crawling out of their cells—whether it’s through revenge, jailbreaks, or just sheer plot armor.

  So, no, Ramas. I won’t be giving you any intel.

  Instead, I shifted the conversation.

  “What’s in the Hero of Magic’s Diary?” I asked casually.

  And just like that, he lit up. Like a cultist at a shrine sale.

  “It… It gave us knowledge of enlightenment!” he said, his hands trembling as if recalling scripture. “It explained everything—how to prepare for ascension! How to call upon the power beyond! It’s all there! From the beginning… all the way to the Moon Lord!”

  My face didn't change, but inside?

  Oh.

  Oh you dumb cultist bastards.

  You got your hands on the Terraria guidebook.

  He just listed out every step. Every boss. Every altar. Every requirement. They were treating it like some sacred prophecy—when in reality it was the Wiki written in diary format.

  But to them? It was the Codex of Existence.

  I realized then how they probably summoned the Eye of Cthulhu, and even that fake Moon Lord wannabe. The guidebook had handed them the playbook for world-ending disasters.

  And while I wasn’t worried—because, well, I’ve beaten Terraria more times than I’ve changed my socks—everyone else? Their minds would probably melt from just reading page five.

  Yeah. I need to get that book.

  Even if it doesn't show a way back home, there's a chance it holds something useful. If the previous Hero slipped in a cheat code, a memory, anything—I need it.

  After my interrogation break, Trish took over. The guy really knew how to push for details—he grilled Ramas like he was preparing for a bar exam in Evil Organizations 101.

  Most of what Ramas said didn’t involve me—general cultist stuff, scary rituals, overused edgy words like “salvation” and “cleansing”—but then he dropped something worth noting.

  “There are teams... assigned to each kingdom,” Ramas said, voice low, like he was revealing the big twist. “Each team has a leader, handpicked by Valad himself. There’s no base. No headquarters. We stay scattered. Always moving. Always watching.”

  That actually was good intel.

  No HQ meant no easy target to hit, but it also meant they were spread thin. And if each kingdom had one team… then the Cultists were trying to run a global game of chess. Only problem? They didn’t account for a wild card like me flipping the board.

  While Trish kept asking the serious stuff, I stood in the background, flipping a blazing dagger between my fingers. Every flick sent a warm glow dancing across the stone walls.

  Not because I was bored.

  But just to remind Ramas, in case he forgot who Daddy was in this prison.

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  Daisy blinked at me, caught off guard. “Huh?”

  “I mean,” I continued, crossing my arms as I leaned against the cold stone wall, “you’ve got quite a lot of intel and now know where the leader might be hidden as well. If you go public with this, there’s a good chance other kingdoms or races might join you too.”

  Daisy hesitated, the thought clearly weighing on her.

  “I… I don’t know… I need to talk with everyone else first.” she admitted softly.

  I stepped forward, locking eyes with her. “They’ve attacked people, killed them. Done things that don’t even have names. You don’t want to return the favor?”

  Silence.

  She stood there quietly for a few seconds, visibly thinking it over. Then she shook her head.

  “No yet.” she said with a gentle firmness. “they will pay, but we will not stoop to their level and do a crusade against them.”

  …

  Well damn. The kid’s got a moral compass stronger than some adults I know.

  I smiled faintly, and out of habit—probably from spending so much time with Faith and Hope—I gently patted her on the head. Her hair was soft under my hand, with that golden crown nestled snugly over her strawberry-pink locks.

  “Good kid.”

  She turned a shade redder than a cooked shrimp.

  “...No one’s touched my head like that since my father,” she muttered, clearly flustered.

  Without missing a beat, I dropped the bomb. “I’m your father now.”

  And BAM—she punched me square in the gut. Not hard enough to break anything, but definitely enough to knock some of the stupid out of me.

  Okay… maybe that line only works when Darth Vader says it.

  We stood there for a few quiet moments, the tension slowly melting away, until Trish finally wrapped up his interrogation. Apparently, Ramas had spilled everything he had to spill—and was now curled up in a defeated puddle of man-tears in the corner of the cell.

  That was our cue to leave.

  As we exited the cell, I got a message from Aisha. She'd finally managed to sell the potions—apparently had a little trouble finding a buyer at first, but ended up striking a deal with the army. Two full stacks of lesser health potions, sold for a total of 30 gold coins.

  Classic Aisha. Struggles with basic planning, but she did manage to pull off a military deal by accident, I’ll give her that.

  Now, combined with my 50 gold, meant we officially had what we needed: one full platinum coin.

  Should I be impressed? Nah. There are tons of ways to make money in this world if I really wanted to. I just hadn’t needed it before.

  Because right now? There were more important things than coin. Like students to train. Cultists to track. And Walter’s miserable ghost butt to bring back to life.

  Still… one platinum coin down.

  Daisy and Trish were still deep in discussion—probably planning some noble strategy to take down the Cultists and save the world or whatever—so I didn’t butt in. They needed time to figure out their whole “duty and diplomacy” thing, and I needed to regroup.

  When we got back upstairs to the castle, Trish and Daisy both thanked me with sincere nods before heading off in different directions, clearly swamped with whatever royal and knightly responsibilities they had waiting for them.

  Meanwhile, I had my own mission: meet up with Aisha near the Nurse.

  I popped open my 3D map, and immediately sighed. This castle layout was worse than a Legend of Zelda dungeon. There were twists, turns, unnecessary spiral staircases, and I’m pretty sure I saw a hallway loop back on itself three times. Still, I figured out a route and started walking, trying to avoid any surprise “side quests.”

  By the time I got there, Aisha had already arrived.

  Naturally.

  I spotted her standing next to her Nurse—Abigail. Who… looked exactly like my Nurse. Like, carbon copy. Same white uniform, same dead-inside-yet-politely-smiling expression. The only difference? Name tag.

  “Abigail,” not “Emma.”

  Weird.

  Abigail turned to face us, speaking in a soft, polite voice.

  “Hello, Master Evan. Hello, Master Aisha. What do you require from me today?”

  Before anything else, I had to get this off my chest.

  “Hey, do you know who Emma is?”

  Walter immediately piped up through the link.

  “Seriously, Evan? YOU’RE GONNA DO THIS NOW? REVIVE ME FIRST!”

  “Shhh,” Aisha whispered, smirking. “Let him cook.”

  “YOU’RE BOTH DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!!!”

  Meanwhile, Abigail responded without a hint of hesitation. “Are you referring to Emma Nurse?”

  Bingo.

  “Yes,” I said, leaning forward just a bit. “Do you know her?”

  “I am Emma.”

  I blinked. “Wait, what? But you said your name’s Abigail?”

  “Yes, but I am Emma as well.”

  “…Oh yeah?” I squinted at her. “Then what’s Emma doing right now?”

  She tilted her head slightly, as if the question were perfectly normal. “As per your instruction, she is currently tending to Hope and Faith. They’re resting peacefully.”

  I stepped back, arms slightly raised. “What in the fresh hell?”

  I turned to the others. “Alright, what do you guys make of this?”

  “A glitch in the matrix?” Aisha suggested, completely deadpan.

  “Come on, Aisha. This isn’t a video game.” I paused. “…Oh, wait. Right. It is.”

  Walter groaned. “OKAY, ENOUGH! JUST REVIVE ME ALREADY!”

  I grinned. “Sooo… Aisha, what’d you have for lunch?”

  “EVAN! I SWEAR IF YOU DON’T REVIVE ME RIGHT NOW, WE’RE DONE! DON’T CALL ME YOUR BEST FRIEND EVER AGAIN!”

  Aisha burst out laughing, nearly doubling over.

  Satisfied, I handed her 50 gold coins. She still had Walter’s corpse conveniently stored… somewhere. Don’t ask.

  She turned to the Nurse—Emma-Abigail-Both-of-Them—and said a few quick words. Abigail nodded, then raised her hand. A radiant white light bloomed from her palm like a supernova.

  Even with Pain Immunity, I could feel that it would’ve burned my eyes out if I didn’t shut them. So I did.

  When the light faded, I opened them again.

  Standing before us was a guy with black hair, a slim but strong build, sharp-yet-chill eyes.

  He patted himself down slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe he was alive again.

  “I can touch myself again!” He said, with his hands touching his face.

  {Author Note: ( ?° ?? ?°) }

  “BUDDY!” I screamed.

  “BUDDY!” Aisha screamed.

  “BUDDIES!” Walter screamed.

  We basically jumped at each other for a Group Hug.