Danmachi: The little King of Nothing

The Sword Wielder let out a long exhale as he scanned the ruined forest around them.

The once-lush trees now stood as blackened skeletons, their branches clawing at the smoke-choked sky.

The ground was littered with the corpses of dragons, their massive forms sprawled grotesquely across the scorched earth. 

"We're safe now, right?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. 

Something cold pressed against his cheek. 

"Ah—!" He jerked back, blade already half-drawn before recognizing Cassiphone standing there with a water bottle. 

"Relax, Dim Dim," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just some cold water." 

Dimos sighed, accepting the bottle with a nod. "Thank you, Sister Cass." He drank deeply before collapsing onto a nearby tree stump, his body finally registering its exhaustion. 

His gaze swept across the battlefield again—the enormous craters, the still-smoldering patches of forest, the sheer scale of destruction. 

"This... is what a Level 2 is capable of?" he asked quietly. 

Cassiphone shook her head. "Of course not. Fillian's an elite. Setting her as the standard is unfair." 

"What are you doing?" 

"Surveying." 

"How's the situation?" 

"I just saw Master fall from the sky." 

Dimos burst out laughing before catching himself. "Pft—ehem! Did you see the other two?" 

"No, I don't." 

"Well, I'm sure they're fine. Brother Regulus is probably doing something ridiculous right about now though." 

Cassiphone turned on her heel. "Let's go meet up with the others." 

"Can I get a refill—? Ah, wait! Hey!" 

She was already walking away, leaving Dimos scrambling to catch up. 

They followed the trail of destruction until they came across a gaping hole in the ground. 

"A hole?" Dimos peered inside. "What's down there?" 

A few meters below, standing on a platform of pure darkness, were Nyx and Fillian. 

"Lady Nyx! Miss Fillian! Grab on!" Cassiphone called down as she tossed a rope. 

Fillian grinned up at them. "Great, you found us. A little later and I would have tried to climb out using Lady Nyx as a stool." 

She grabbed the rope—then immediately burst into laughter. "Bwahahaha!!! Stop it, that tickles!" She let go, flailing, just as Nyx took her place. 

"Quick, Cassy! Pull me up! We're leaving her behind!" Nyx called cheerfully. 

Fillian scrambled. "You jerk—hold it!" She lunged, grabbing Nyx's ankle. 

After some struggling and more bickering, both were hauled up onto the ground. 

The group eventually found Regulus standing amidst the wreckage, his back turned to them. 

Cassiphone was the first to notice. "Master...?" Her voice trailed off as she got closer. 

Regulus' entire back was drenched in blood. 

"Why is your back covered in blood?" Nyx asked, tilting her head. 

"I slipped on a dragon corpse," Regulus answered without missing a beat. 

Nyx walked over to the nearest dragon body and nudged it with her foot. "This one has a very conspicuous hole in it." She smirked. "You tried to sit on it like a throne for the funsies, didn't you?" 

Regulus opened his mouth—then closed it. 

Fillian groaned. "You're all ridiculous." 

Dimos just sighed. "Let's just go home." 

Regulus crossed his arms, his bloodstained back glistening under the sunlight. "Nope. We ain't going back." 

Dimos blinked. "Huh?!?!" 

"We're staying," Regulus declared, gesturing to the smoldering battlefield, "until we achieve a level-up." 

Dimos's face twisted in disbelief. "How are we supposed to do that when you're the only one who can get your status updated?! I don't even have a Falna to begin with!" 

Regulus smirked. "Exactly." 

A beat of silence. 

Cassiphone sighed. "He's saying we train the old-fashioned way." 

Fillian groaned, rubbing her temples. "You mean the stupid way." 

Nyx, however, grinned like a cat who'd just spotted a wounded bird. "Oh? So you do have a brain under all that muscle." 

Regulus ignored her, turning to Dimos. "You want power? Real strength? Not some god's blessing, but something that's yours?" He kicked a dragon's severed claw, sending it skidding across the dirt. "Then prove you can take it." 

Dimos opened his mouth—then closed it. His grip tightened around his sword. 

"Fine," he muttered. "But when I collapse from exhaustion, you're carrying me back." 

Regulus snorted. "Sure." 

Nyx clapped her hands together. "Hey! Maybe one of you gals will end up achieving a double level-up!" She wagged a finger between Cassiphone and Fillian. 

Fillian deadpanned. "I would rather not. I'm more likely to die a horrible death." 

Cassiphone merely sighed, already used to Nyx's antics. 

Regulus, meanwhile, had already moved behind Cassiphone and was elbow-deep in her supply bag. "Anyway, we already secured the area. Let's set up camp." 

He pulled out an absurd amount of food—dried meats, hardtack, even a few wrapped parcels that smelled suspiciously like fresh bread. 

Dimos blinked. "How the hell did you fit all that in there?" 

Cassiphone snatched her bag back with a huff. "It's called packing efficiently." 

Nyx snatched a piece of jerky from Regulus' pile. "So," she said through a mouthful, "who's cooking?" 

Everyone immediately pointed at Regulus. 

He smiled. "Already done." 

Fillian tossed a log into the newly built campfire, sending sparks spiraling into the air. "We have to have the camp set up by nightfall." 

Dimos paused mid-chew, swallowing hard. "I thought they wouldn't get here until tomorrow?" 

Cassiphone adjusted the strap of her bag, eyes scanning the tree line. "They didn't know we'd clear the perimeter this fast." 

Crunch! 

Every head swiveled toward Nyx, who sat cross-legged on a fallen log, happily munching potato chips from a mysteriously procured bag. 

Flick! 

Regulus snatched the bag away—but not before delivering a light forehead flick. "Nyx, stop eating random snacks. We're having actual lunch." 

Nyx closed one eye, lips curling into a deliberately saccharine smile. "Alright. But I want you to feed me, okay, Regulus?" 

His ears turned red instantly. 

Fillian snorted into her bread. "Now you're copying me? Finally realized how weak he is to simple and vanilla, huh?" 

The forest trembled under the synchronized march of boots, their steps precise—unnervingly so for terrain choked with roots and debris. Setting sunlight glinted off silver pauldrons as the unit advanced, their pointed ears twitching at every distant crack of branches. 

"Stay vigilant!" The lead elf—a captain with scars raking across his neck—snapped his fingers. "This may be the outskirts, but we're still in the deadly Dragon Valley." 

A chorus of "Yes, Captain!" rang out, though the moment his back turned, whispers slithered through the ranks. 

"Hey, are the rumors true? Is the advance party really just five members? With only a single Level 2?" one asked. 

"It is. I'm still baffled why the elders thought launching a campaign into that forsaken land was a good idea—let alone with such paltry forces," another grimaced. 

A third elf, younger, tightened his grip on his bow. "Maybe they're disposable." 

The captain's ear flicked. He didn't turn around. 

The elven captain raised a fist, bringing the unit to an abrupt halt. His sharp eyes scanned the clearing ahead—where the remnants of a campfire still smoldered, surrounded by haphazard bedrolls and the distinct scent of burnt dragon meat. 

"This is the meeting point." 

The elven captain lowered his fist slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the ragtag group before him. 

"You," the captain's voice was measured, but his grip on his weapon didn't loosen. "You're the advance party we were sent to rendezvous with?" 

Regulus wiped the last of the dragon blood off his sword before sheathing it, completely unfazed by the dozen arrows still trained in his general direction. "Yeah. You're late." 

A beat of silence. 

Then— 

"LATE?!" one of the younger elves burst out, incredulous. "We marched here at double time because of your—!" 

The captain silenced him with a sharp gesture. His gaze never left Regulus. "Your report stated you would be scouting the valley. Not clearing it." 

Nyx, still leaning against a tree, took another loud bite of her apple. "We multitask." 

Fillian, now visible from her perch in the branches, sighed. "To be fair, they started it." She pointed at the nearest dragon corpse for emphasis. 

The elves exchanged glances. The captain finally lowered his weapon fully. "The elders will want a full debriefing." 

Regulus shrugged. "Sure. After we eat." 

Dimos, who had been eyeing the elven rations with far too much interest, perked up. "Oh, are we sharing food?" 

Cassiphone kicked him in the shin. 

The tension shattered as Regulus scratched the back of his head and sighed. 

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry about the mess," he said, waving a hand at the dragon carcasses like they were an inconvenience rather than a massacre. "Got carried away." 

The elven captain's eyebrow twitched. 

"Anyway," Regulus continued, as if he hadn't just admitted to single-handedly decimating a valley's worth of apex predators, "you guys hungry? We've got stew." 

A beat of stunned silence. 

Then— 

"STEW?!" the youngest elf blurted, voice cracking. "You—! We—! The elders—!" 

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stand down, Ryn." He turned back to Regulus, expression carefully neutral. "Stew would be acceptable." 

Nyx smirked. "Great! Fillian, serve our honored guests." 

Fillian, still in the tree, rolled her eyes. But she dropped down anyway, grabbing the ladle with the air of someone sentenced to hard labor. 

Regulus wiped his hands on his pants before accepting the letter from the elven captain. "By the way, are there any messages for us?" 

The captain nodded stiffly. "A message from the King of Babelonia." 

Regulus broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the single line of elegant script: 

"I believe half a year is enough. Go and level up." 

A beat of silence. 

Then— 

"Are you kidding me?" Regulus groaned, rubbing his temples. "Only one year has passed. What makes him think now is a good time to level up when I haven't maxed out my stats?" 

Nyx smirk widened as she looked at his face. "Oh, I like his idea. He's got a point." 

Fillian peered over her shoulder. "That's not a fair point—that's insanity. We barely survived today." 

Dimos scratched his head. "Wait, so we're just... staying here for six months now?" 

Regulus crumpled the letter in his fist with a sigh. "No, he is saying that I should level right this instant." 

The elven captain cleared his throat. "For what it's worth... His Majesty did send reinforcements." He gestured behind him, where the rest of the elven unit stood at attention. 

Regulus blinked. "You mean you guys are our backup?" 

The youngest elf, Ryn, paled. "We're... what now?"

The captain shook his head. "No. We're merely the delivery party." He gestured to the packs his unit carried—bulging with supplies, but clearly not enough for a siege against a valley full of dragons. 

Nyx peeked into one of the bags and burst out laughing. "Oh, this is rich! Dried fruit, a single tent, and—" she held up a tiny vial of blue liquid, "one whole health potion? How generous." 

Fillian paled. "That's it? That's our support?" 

The captain at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. "His Majesty said... and I quote, 'They'll figure it out.'" 

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course he did." 

Dimos, ever the optimist, rummaged through another pack. "Hey, at least there's rope! And... uh... a very small shovel?" 

Cassiphone sighed. "We're going to die here." 

Ryn suddenly perked up. "Actually... we were requested to give you one more thing." He reached into his cloak and produced— 

—a single, slightly crumpled piece of parchment. 

Regulus unfolded it. In the same elegant script as before, it read: 

"P.S. Try not to perish. It would be inconvenient." 

Silence. 

Then, a stroke.

Cornelius has a stomachache