There's a saying about the calm before the storm.
It's the kind of proverb suggesting that an eerie silence always precedes any major event.
This day, too, was filled with such quiet.
"Then let us begin the summoning ritual. ...Given what happened with Isla, I think we'll be fine, but please stay on guard just in case."
The Dark Elf gunners standing watch around the perimeter nodded in acknowledgment.
In the ritual ground where the queen who had once commanded all insects had been born, Atou was once again attempting to birth a hero.
This time, she would use the Golden Mountains.
A portion of the spoils obtained from defeating the Brave Questus Demon Lord's army—enough had been gathered here to fill the surroundings.
Summoning heroes had a nature whereby the cost grew heavier with each successive attempt.
Even with the vast amount of gold coins she'd possessed, more than half would be consumed by this summoning alone.
She still had some leeway, but she couldn't keep spending them like water the way she had before.
She had deliberately not called the key members—Gia, Old Mortar, Emuru, the Elful sisters—to this place.
Vittorio was a hero who excelled at scheming. She was on guard against being fed unnecessary information before she could explain the situation.
—Vittorio's abilities were special. Even Atou couldn't predict what might happen.
Therefore, she performed the ritual with the utmost tension and the utmost caution.
She closed her eyes, and after a moment, change overcame the mountain of gold coins.
First, the gold coins floated gently upward, as though the gravity of space had vanished.
Then, as if blown away by a sudden gust, they whirled in arcs, gathering into a small tornado at the center of the ritual ground.
The golden vortex grew denser and faster, until it eventually coalesced into a single mass.
The mass, which had been spherical, slowly took on a human shape—and then, with a sound like shattering glass, it burst apart—
"The Blessed Tongue Calamity, Viiiiitttttoriiiiiio! Answering the call of summons, I come to you hale and hearty once agaaaaaain!"
He appeared.
His height easily exceeded two meters. While tall compared to others, his frame was correspondingly thin and frail, and paired with his unhealthy skin tone, he could easily be mistaken for a beggar.
His limbs were abnormally long, and his eyes gleamed with an unsettling darkness.
The clothing he wore was chaotic in red, blue, and yellow—as if the very concept of balance had been left somewhere behind—ragged and old, unnecessarily draped over his upper body, warping his overall proportions.
On his head sat a hat of peculiar design.
And above all—the elongated nose, as if he couldn't quite hide his tendency to spin lies, and the ridiculous, elongated mustache, as though mocking everyone else, vividly conveyed what sort of being this hero was.
Amid the sound of the Dark Elf gunners catching their breath, Atou fixed her gaze on him, observing his every movement.
Before long, the newly summoned hero—Vittorio—performed an exaggerated Bow and Scrape, the kind used by nobles, then shifted his interest to the group welcoming him.
"Oh my?"
An exaggerated show of surprise.
"Oh my, oh my, oh my?"
An exaggerated show of bewilderment.
Each display irritated Atou and simultaneously heightened her wariness.
He was indeed Vittorio. The being she had summoned was, without the slightest doubt, the hero she knew.
That was precisely what made him the most troublesome and the most unpredictable of all.
"Where is my great lord, Ira=Takuto, who rules over the abyssal darkness?"
That his very first words addressed this brought Atou inner relief.
She had already experienced it with Isla, but she'd been slightly anxious about whether he would recognize Takuto as his sovereign.
No—she couldn't let her guard down yet.
This oddball who was still looking around with a creepy grin plastered on his face—who knew what thoughts lurked within him? That was an unknown quantity.
It would be more natural, given his nature, to assume that even now he was plotting something behind that frivolous, impudent smile.
But the die had already been cast. Atou borrowing his power was a predetermined fact, and so was what came next.
Namely, explaining the current situation and requesting his cooperation.
Atou steeled herself, harboring a bit of tension and considerable anxiety about the certain chaos to come, and opened her mouth to speak.
"Welcome, Vittorio. I'll explain about Takuto myself."
"Well, well! If it isn't Atou! Still as pitiful-looking as ever—I do sympathize... bufuu! I-I can't hold it in! Kukuku!"
The opening provocation came right away.
Atou ignored his words, veins bulging at her temples.
If she got angry over something this minor, she wouldn't be able to face Takuto when he eventually awakened.
What mattered most right now was Takuto's well-being and his recovery.
In other words, Atou's pride and anger in this place were practically worthless.
Pushing the conversation forward was the paramount goal, and ultimately it would benefit Takuto.
That said, she fully intended to settle the score for being called pitiful later on...
"We can save idle chatter for later. First, let me explain the current situation regarding Takuto and this world."
"Mm? Atou wants to talk, does she? Well then, do go ahead?"
Vittorio rested his chin on his hand, furrowed his eyebrows as dramatically as possible, and put on a show of utmost reluctance as he urged her to continue.
Atou had anticipated this insincere attitude and wasn't particularly fazed.
If anything, she was mildly surprised that his provocation had been this restrained.
It seemed Vittorio wanted information quickly too.
That he possessed enough rationality to worry about the well-being of his lord Takuto was surprising, but she could judge that the first round of their reunion had been navigated successfully.
"Then let me explain. It'll be a bit long, but please listen. The story goes back to when we first arrived in this world—"
Because the Dark Elf gunner was present, she couldn't speak about her previous life or about Eternal Nations.
Choosing her words carefully, Atou explained the events that had occurred since arriving in this world—both for herself and Takuto—and the battle they were currently embroiled in.
...…
……
…
"That's because you lot are incompetent, isn't it? Do your jobs properly, you flat-chested fools."
"—Guu!"
The phrase "unable to muster a sound" described this moment perfectly.
Atou had no counter to his cutting words. No—she couldn't counter them.
Because Vittorio's words were, word for word, the plain truth: their powerlessness had indeed created this situation.
What kind of subordinates were they if they couldn't protect their king? Atou was seized by guilt.
Instead of protecting him, they had ended up protected by him—and this was the result.
If she were to claim to be Takuto's hero, Atou was clearly powerless at this point.
"Oh, how pitiful Takuto is! Having to keep these incompetent lot as his guardians—how pitiful for Takuto! And on top of that, he has to pay for their tab and collapse on the floor, puuulease! Ah! How tragic! But, O great King of Darkness, Ira=Takuto! You have made one blunder! And that is the selection of the first hero to summon! So then? Who was the truly needed hero? Yesss! This Viiiiiiitttttrioooo!"
The lengthy speech ended, and Atou's irritation only intensified.
But she was not about to lose her composure over rash fury or let him take control of the pace.
She simply took a deep breath, keeping her cool as if to say she wouldn't be goaded.
"I accept your criticism for now. Above all, the priority is for Takuto to recover. Vittorio... we don't know how to restore Takuto's power. Lend us your wisdom, your ability."
"Hmm? That's rather humble of you, Atou! I'm a little disappointed!"
So those earlier words had indeed been meant solely to tease Atou?
Once he realized she wouldn't take the bait, Vittorio's spirits visibly plummeted, and he crouched down on the spot, listlessly playing with the dirt.
But suddenly...
"Ah! I've thought of something good! Oh wait, no—ahem. Indeed, the situation of our lord Ira=Takuto is a national crisis that cannot be overlooked! This Vittorio shall devote body and soul to dealing with this problem for Takuto, and I will most certainly restore the king's heart! Leave it to me, Atou! To this Vittorio! Please entrust everything to me! Seriously."
"...I'm counting on you."
That was all Atou could say.
At least she'd managed to get him to agree to search for a means of Takuto's recovery, as originally planned...
But the overwhelmingly strong stench of a dubious con man wafting from every word he spoke left Atou feeling nothing but uneasy.
◇ ◇ ◇
This was after Vittorio had joined Mynoghra.
After the audience he so craved with the amnesiac Takuto, and after introductions with the key figures of Mynoghra were completed...
When Mynoghra decided to put his skills to work right away, what befell them were days terribly hard on both their stomachs and their spirits.
"What is this!?"
It happened one day.
Emuru, who had somehow ended up in a position of importance within Mynoghra, was buried under so much administrative work that she could barely remember what her original role had been.
From nowhere in particular, Vittorio had appeared and stuck his nose right into the documents she was compiling.
"Hiee! ...These are summaries of the recent events."
He had appeared without a trace of presence, and though she nearly jumped, Emuru managed to force an answer.
Honestly, she found this strange hero with his creepy grin unpleasant, but since he'd been given the critical mission of finding a way to restore Takuto, she couldn't just ignore him.
She tried to maintain her composure and respond appropriately.
"Ohhoh! A report, is it? Then if you'll pardon me, I'll take a peek..."
Vittorio, for his part, acted as though he had no idea what Emuru was thinking and roughly grabbed the documents from her hands, leafing through them one after another.
"Hooo. Hehh... ehhh!? Ah. Ahhh, I see. Sss—haaaaaa."
He let out an unmistakable sigh.
The trouble and headache caused by a hero like Vittorio had been described ad nauseam by those who'd already suffered at his hands.
Additionally, she'd received advice from Atou to play along and send him on his way if possible.
But having him treat the reports and compiled records she'd poured sleepless nights into with such an attitude made her tongue slip before she could stop it.
"Um, is something wrong?"
"Not really? Nothing at all? No, no, nothing. Just... well, you know?"
"What do you mean!?"
She had reached her limit.
Even knowing it was provocation, she couldn't hold back.
And no wonder. Mynoghra had never had someone with a personality as outrageously broken as his, nor had the Dark Elf tribe.
If she reflected on her entire life, the only comparable case might be the occasional snide remark from the Elf elder, but compared to the oddball in front of her, that was child's play.
Not just Emuru—none of Mynoghra's residents had ever encountered someone this extreme and troublesome.
In a sense, Mynoghra's inhabitants were in the midst of a trial that tested their patience beyond all limits.
And Emuru's trial began regardless of her own wishes.
"You've got low awareness, you know."
"Huh? L-low awareness?"
"Like, how should I put it... your vision for the work? Your passion is lacking, if you know what I mean... I can't sense any of that from you. That hungry spirit of wanting to become an industry opinion leader through this work. What's going on? You don't even understand the basics—everything about you is lacking. Hmm, is this a mentorship problem? Or are you still stuck in student mode?"
A torrent of insults, taunts, and mockery washed over Emuru, the words flowing as freely as water down a tilted board.
Many of those words—perhaps most—were unfamiliar to her, but it was easy enough to understand that she was being ridiculed.
In fact, he was looking at her with that deliberate, grinning expression.
There was no intent other than mockery.
"Th-then what should I do specifically!? I would very much appreciate your guidance!"
Emuru raised her voice. It was rare for her, who was normally calm and rational, to show this much emotion.
But that was exactly the reaction Vittorio had been waiting for.
"Figure it out yourself. You're a working adult, aren't you?"
"Hah!? —Guu, guuu!!"
It was more than enough to make Emuru's face flush red with rage.
"Eek! You look angry, so I'll keep my distance. Well then, well then! Farewell!"
Whether he was satisfied with her reaction or simply bored of teasing, after thoroughly savoring Emuru's expression, Vittorio spat out a theatrical exit line and vanished in the same mysterious manner he'd arrived.
Glaring after his retreating figure, Emuru could only grind her teeth in frustration.
...…
……
…
Then, on another day.
This time, the target was the Dark Elf warrior corps—those led by Gia, who worked tirelessly to further hone their skills for the sake of their nation and their king.
"Oh my! The Dark Elf warriors are armed with firearms given by Takuto! How splendid!"
Again, he appeared without warning.
They were in the middle of training—no, precisely because they were training, they were on high alert, and yet he had approached without their noticing.
Wondering what method he had used, Gia, the warrior chief, nonetheless dealt with him.
"Yes. With these weapons of divine origin bestowed upon us by the King, we have become an even more powerful fighting force than before. We strive to continue our training and hone ourselves daily, so that we may become the King's sword and shield."
"Then that means Takuto's safety is completely and perfectly—secured, right!"
"Guu! ...That is—!"
The momentum and confidence drained from Gia's words.
Vittorio already had a rough understanding of everything that had happened in Mynoghra so far.
If that was the case, this pointed remark was deliberate—and naturally, the reason was to be snide.
Despite having been warned by Atou to ignore him as much as possible, Gia steeled himself with a certain resolve.
"It hurts, y'know. It huuurts..."
But somehow, suddenly, Vittorio clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground, whining in a pathetic voice.
"Oh!? What's wrong, Vittorio?"
At this point, Gia had no choice but to say something.
He'd been told by Atou to ignore him as much as possible, but he needed to at least show a semblance of concern here—if he didn't, it would damage his credibility as warrior chief, and besides, if it turned out to be a real injury or illness, it could be serious.
Thinking this, he showed concern—and yet—
"The injuries I sustained because Chief Gia didn't protect me... it huuurts."
"What? What do you mean by that...?"
"I'm expressing the feelings of our king."
Vittorio's insidiousness was the kind that took any concern offered and hurled it somewhere into the void.
"It huuurts. It huuurts... At this rate, I'm gonna die! Because someone didn't protect me, I'll just up and die!"
"Wha—what is that! Insulting the King is unforgivable!"
"I'm not insulting the King. I'm insulting you."
He stood up straight, and in an instant his expression turned serious as he fired off his words.
Gia's anger grew with each measured provocation. What had this man come to Mynoghra for?
He didn't fulfill his own duties, brought discord to the nation—what was he thinking, what did he want?
Gia had heard he was provocative by nature and enjoyed goading others into anger, but this was too much.
No matter how important this hero was for the King's recovery, at this rate he could very well bring about the nation's downfall.
Above all... Gia couldn't imagine the King being saved by someone like this.
Gia was beginning to feel that, in certain circumstances, he might need to steel himself for a certain kind of resolve regarding Vittorio.
"Indeed, our inadequacy has produced the King's current condition. That stain can never be washed away. But is it your place to say that, Vittorio, when you weren't even present? More to the point—hasn't the fact that you were never summoned until now been proof of the King's lack of trust in you?"
Killing intent radiated from him.
Unlike Emuru, Gia was neither a pushover who would simply stand there silently trembling with rage, nor was he someone whose composure would hold.
If anything, when Vittorio had accomplished nothing and yet was running his mouth this freely, backing down was not an option.
The same was true for the Dark Elf warriors listening nearby, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.
Bathed in the fury of all the Dark Elves, what attitude did Vittorio adopt?
"Hiee! Hieeeeeeeee!!"
He performed an elaborate, pathetic prostration right on the spot.
"P-please forgive me! I never imagined you'd be that angry! You never do your jobs, you can't even protect your king, yet your pride is through the roof! This Vittorio never could have foreseen that!"
Even while rubbing his forehead against the ground, he kept glancing up at them—and that attitude was what offended them most.
Vittorio knew very well that the Dark Elves, being a proud people, could not bring themselves to cut down someone who had prostrated and begged for mercy.
Even if that prostration was nothing more than a formality.
And so, once again, deep distrust and revulsion toward Vittorio took root.
Naturally, this wasn't limited to them alone.
With almost no exceptions, Mynoghra's residents received Vittorio's "baptism" and had their true feelings dragged out into the open.
Was there any meaning to this behavior? Or was it simply his hobby?
Completely forgetting his original purpose—obtaining some means of Takuto's recovery—Vittorio's damage spread rapidly.
◇ ◇ ◇
Takuto had currently lost his memory and was completely incapable of any royal decision-making.
Therefore, all protests and complaints inevitably landed on Atou.
The sullied Atou sat with her head in her hands on her desk, wearing an expression that seemed to ask where all her pride as a hero had gone.
"I-it's worse than expected. Far worse than I imagined..."
"My candy was taken..."
"The snacks the King gave us before were all carried away..."
Atou gave a wry smile toward the Elful sisters, who puffed out their cheeks with indignant expressions, but she could do nothing more.
They were Vittorio's victims number one and two for the day.
On the surface, his approach might have seemed gentler compared to what others had experienced, but that wasn't the case.
Vittorio had understood that the sisters still had a mentally immature side, lacking in judgment and discernment, and had deliberately chosen the harassment that would trouble them most.
And he had done so in the worst possible way—by stealing the treats they had secretly treasured, which had been given directly by the King.
Had this happened during the day, it was fortunate. If he had pulled something like this on the night of a full moon, Mynoghra would undoubtedly have been drenched in a rain of blood.
Naturally, it would have been Vittorio's blood.
Though it was clear he had chosen daytime deliberately, fully aware of this outcome...
When Atou averted her gaze from the Elful sisters, she found Old Mortar and Warrior Chief Gia there.
Beyond them were the familiar civil officials, Dark Elf residents with whom she normally had little interaction, and even Mynoghra-origin units like Brain Eaters and Pseudo-Humans.
All of them had come to this place with complaints directed at Atou.
Of course, the content was singular: do something about that oddjobless lunatic who does nothing but meddle with others.
There was nothing she could do.
Would it help if she punched him really hard once?
She knew it would be futile, but Atou continued racking her brain for a way to silence Vittorio.
Naturally, no matter how much she thought, no answer came. If such a convenient solution existed, Atou would have implemented it already.
And into this mess, more trouble arrived.
"I-it's terrible!"
Emuru came rushing in with a panicked expression.
She had listened to him complain endlessly yesterday—had he harassed her again? Atou wondered, but Emuru's flustered demeanor suggested something else had happened, and Atou frowned.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me Vittorio—"
"He left... He left town and went off somewhere on his own!"
"What!?"
The cry escaped before her brain could process it.
"He left the town and just went off somewhere by himself!"
"Haaaah!?"
Atou couldn't help but let out an absurd scream.
Vittorio always exceeded her expectations.
In the worst direction... She had known this, yet had completely forgotten.
No—she hadn't forgotten. She had looked away from it.
She had clung to the hopeful assumption that something like that wouldn't happen.
But reality was merciless.
The problem she had been trying to contain predictably erupted, engulfing everyone around it and spiraling into a massive commotion.
Something absurd had happened.
With this feeling weighing on her, Atou felt a dull ache settle into her stomach.