"Alvar Walter? Did he just say that was his name?" Grit was in shock. This was the name of his own teammate—the very one they had deliberately tied up with ropes in a storage space behind them. They had staged him as a captive so the knights—or anyone else—would never suspect he was part of their group.
He was their last chance to inform their boss if the mission failed, a man who, until now, had never faced a knight directly and therefore had no documented crimes.
The "Alvar Walter" he knew, now roasted and dead, was a special case. As the newest member of their organization, he was a prized possession of their supreme leader, who protected him at all costs. Despite all this, Walter was a truly evil person with no parents or family to hold him back, which allowed him to climb the ranks quickly.
Not that it matters right now. Grit couldn't say anything about it to the knights, or he would face a fate worse than death.
"You seem shaken up. Take a moment and a deep breath," said the knight named Theodore as he approached him. He had brown hair, tousled, with a small golden clip on the right side. He wore the same attire and armor as everyone else, and even the same sword.
He added, before Hiroki could say a single thing or take the deep breath he was told to, "I heard you can't remember a thing. But I have to ask: do you have any memories at all from before the bandits attacked? We need to understand your place in all this."
Hiroki stared into his eyes and exhaled. "The moment I opened my eyes, I had already been launched from God knows where into a structure of trees in the forest. I had been laying on the dirt for maybe hours or days. The moment I woke up, I tried to investigate where that could have happened, but there was nothing. The next thing I did was take a vantage point and investigate the perimeter."
"I see, so you climbed a tree for a view," Theodore said.
"Well, not exactly. I jumped higher than the tallest tree I could find and grabbed onto it," Hiroki replied.
"I see. You used magic," Theodore replied.
"Nope, without magic, sir," Hiroki replied.
This statement caught Theodore off guard. "That's quite a claim," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Mind if we test that?"
He gestured toward a tall pine tree nearby, one of the few that had survived the recent battle. "That one will do. Show me."
The other knights, who had been busy with the clean-up, turned to watch. Theodore shook his head and began rambling, "Without magic, you say? Even I, an experienced knight, cannot do that without mana, let alone an F-rank adventurer. There's no way you have the strength to pull off—"
Theodore's words were cut short as Hiroki suddenly vanished from his side. Hiroki went past the tree for a few inches before grabbing it.
"Well... after I jumped, I managed to grab it and took a quick look around the area, trying to get a sense of what was happening. But before I could even react properly, I got struck by a poison dart out of nowhere—and then everything went black as I started falling down," he said, before falling down.
Theodore: "And how did you survive?"
"Well, I used this—" Hiroki said, showing them the potion.
Theodore was beyond words but held himself back before saying more about the potion, other than it being a mid-high grade potion.
"Then what happened?"
"Well, ...."
The talks between them continued, and Hiroki, the now Alvar Walter, had told him about everything that happened except the fact he was in a dungeon and was from Earth.
But as he spoke, something felt off in his body. His hands trembled when he flexed them, his trousers hung loose on his hips, and his shoulders looked sharper than before—as if he were withering away with every breath he took.
"Wait, you don't look right," Theodore muttered, leaning closer. His brows furrowed. "You were fine a minute ago, but now your bones are sticking out. What's going on?"
Hiroki gave a quick, nervous laugh, trying to wave it off. "I… haven't eaten since waking up. Haven't had water either. Maybe that's it?"
"What ?" Theodore clicked his tongue. Without another word, he rummaged through his pack and shoved a strip of beef jerky and a bottle of water into Hiroki's hands. "Eat. Now."
Grateful, Hiroki bit down the beef. The salty, smoky taste filled his mouth, and as he chewed, he felt a faint strength return to his arms. Just enough to keep moving.
The knights had cleared the field. Among the bodies was a corpse so charred it was beyond recognition—the same man Hiroki had stolen the identification card from.
"Do you recognize this one?" asked a short-haired knight, crouching beside the corpse. Her voice was steady, though her eyes flicked toward Hiroki with sharp curiosity. "Did you fight him?"
"No," Hiroki replied quickly. "But… the bandits did steal my golden card. I thought they'd stop there, since it was gold—"
A laugh slipped out of the knight before she could stop herself.
"Wait… are you serious?" she said, raising a brow. "You thought they wanted it because it was gold-gold?"
Hiroki blinked, heat rushing to his face. "Well… isn't it?"
Her lips twitched. She glanced at the knight next to her, who was already biting down a grin. "Right… carry on," she said, waving a hand as if to get him talking before she burst out laughing.
Hiroki pushed through the embarrassment and continued, forcing his voice steady. "After they took it, they didn't stop. They kept pushing, trying to kill me. I… had no choice but to blow up the carriage to get away."
He risked a glance at Grit. Their eyes met, silent understanding passing between them. Neither dared reveal the truth—it was safer this way.
The short-haired knight frowned "Strange. No proof of who he was. Could've been a ranking member of their lot, or just another unlucky pawn." She gestured her fingers, and the body was dragged away into a carriage.
But then her gaze snapped back to Hiroki. "One thing still bothers me. How were you able to cast magic at that level? That's not what your record says. You're not dabbling with forbidden methods, are you?"
Hiroki froze. His throat tightened, no answer forming.
[Say you burned away your vitality as fuel—fire and lightning mages do that sometimes. Claim that's the only skill you recall using, though you're not sure how.]
His eyes widened. A voice—inside his head? Startled, he repeated the words.
The reaction was immediate.
"What?!" several knights blurted in unison.
Theodore's face darkened. "You what? Do you know how insane that is?" He jabbed a finger at Hiroki.
"For the love of God, you're out of your mind."
Hiroki forced a weak smile, but his thoughts were in chaos. What are these guys talking about? Is it because I'm using a powerful skill despite being a measly F-rank? I mean, they're judging me based on a fake identity, so I don't have to worry about it.
[That thought process might be true but—] the voices rang in his head.
So you can even hear my thoughts, eh? Who are you?
[Ahem... moving on. Your thought process is right. You are being judged on the abilities you have against an ID you do not own, but—[REDACTED]]
The System whispered the last statement into his ear, and Hiroki instinctively took a sharp intake of breath. He stood there for a moment, rigid, before lowering his head in contemplation.
The knights, seeing his shaken state, held their questions for now. Sacrificing vitality wasn't rare on the battlefield—it was just reckless. Not to mention he didn't stop spamming powerful spells not fit for his grade while explaining the fight that had occurred.
The amount of damage this could permanently cause to his body was a mystery they all had yet to discover. But there was a fact the knights could not ignore: had it not been for the explosion he had triggered, they might never have located the caravan in the dead of night.
Later, they boarded the carriage. Hiroki noticed two new armored figures among them—seven in total now. One squad handled the captured bandits, the others kept close to him, their watchful eyes a reminder that "Alvar Walter" was not free yet.
The carriage was larger than a common caravan but less pleasant. The stench of sweat clung to the air, a reminder of the knights' long days on campaign without the chance to bathe. Hiroki, reeking of blood and dirt himself, was hardly in a position to comment.
It was the blonde knight sitting across from him who finally broke the silence. Her blue eyes held him steady, but her tone was far more casual than her armor suggested.
"Look, Alvar," she said, leaning back against the rattling wall. "We can't just let you walk off yet. Too many things don't add up. So for now—you're stuck with us."
She continued, "Don't take it the wrong way. We're not calling you an enemy. Just… until we know more, you'll be under watch. We're heading to Sunshine Town. From there, our garrison will handle the rest. If it turns out you're just some poor adventurer caught in the mess, then hey—no harm done. You'll be free to choose what to do next. Adventuring, merc work, whatever, alright?"
Hiroki blinked at her—relieved by how normal she sounded, as her words held no malice and it seemed he had freedom, though limited. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile.
"Thank you," he said softly, eyes closing for a moment.
The knights exchanged glances, but none doubted his sincerity.
The journey stretched for two days. The knights shared jerky and hard rations with him twice daily, enough to fill his stomach at last. He slept deeply whenever he could, his body seizing every chance to recover.
But no matter how much he ate or rested, his weight kept slipping away—hour by hour, his frame thinning further. The knights noticed but kept their silence. There was nothing more they could do.
When at last the carriage rolled through the gates of Sunshine Town, only the rumble of its wheels broke the deep silence.
A new chapter of the journey had begun.