Kingdom Valor

"So, let me get this straight," William said, holding a wooden ladle like a sword. "We're cooking… in a haunted swamp… where monsters roam free… because it's 'less suspicious' than using a fire in the woods?"

Miri was already chopping vegetables, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a funeral march.

"You learn fast, newbie! Open flames attract the Glarebeaks, but soup smoke? That just makes them curious."

Torrin silently stirred the bubbling pot over a stone-heated vent. Steam hissed out of the earth like it was alive.

William squinted at the pot. "This feels like the beginning of every horror movie I've ever watched."

"What's a horror movie?" Miri asked, ears twitching.

"A visual regret machine," William muttered.

They were in the middle of what Miri called the Graywood Basin, a soggy patch of land known to "technically not belong to any kingdom but very much belong to things with teeth."

William had been handed a chipped sword ("To make you feel included"), a weak mana reading ("Your core's barely above bread level"), and a short intro to mana theory that involved Miri drawing fart clouds on the ground to explain magic flow.

"You said I was a 'Rift-Borne'?" William asked, dipping a toe into a puddle that bit him back.

"Yup!" Miri said. "You got spat out of the Fate Network — like a destiny burp!"

Torrin spoke for the first time in twenty minutes. "He means you're unnatural, foreign. Like… a shoe in soup."

"Wow. Thank you for that poetry," William deadpanned.

The conversation was interrupted by a low growl in the distance.

Not a big one.

A huge one.

The kind of growl that made the ladle vibrate in William's hand. The kind that made the soup stir itself.

"Please tell me that's your stomach," William whispered.

"Nope," Miri said, already drawing her shortbow.

Torrin stood, muscles tensed. "We've got company. Something… ancient."

From the tree line emerged a massive creature, covered in moss, feathers, and bone armor — a Behemoth-class Forest Gnarlhound, four meters tall with tusks like rusted swords.

It looked directly at William.

Sniffed.

Growled again.

And then — in the most unexpected turn of events — it sat down.

Miri blinked. "Uhhh… did it just… accept you as alpha?"

"I DID NOTHING!" William yelped.

"Exactly," Torrin said, narrowing his eyes. "That's the scary part."

Flashback Magic Interference: Unknown Rift Thread Accessed…

ENTITY: Forest Gnarlhound

BONDING STATUS: Accepted — Soullink: Passive Influence via Chrono-Pulse anomaly

REASON: "He smells like a time fracture."

RESULT: Loyal until overwritten or replaced

Back in real-time, the Gnarlhound licked William's face like a puppy.

"Okay," William muttered, frozen. "What kind of messed-up Pokémon am I?"

"You tamed a Behemoth without trying," Miri whispered. "That's either amazing… or illegal."

Torrin nodded. "Both."

Later That Night - Campfire

The monster was curled up like a massive dog beside their camp.

William sat beside it, feeding it scraps. "So… this is my life now. Reincarnated, soup-addicted, and cuddling a war-beast."

Miri passed him a bowl. "You're doing great. Tomorrow, we raid a bandit camp!"

William nearly choked. "Why?!"

"Because they have pillows. And soap. And you, my friend, smell like regret."

As the moon rose, William stared at the stars.

He still had no memories of how he died.

No clue why he was sent here.

But the giant beast breathing beside him… the rabbit-girl sharpening knives with a smile… the lion-man brooding like a bodyguard-slash-philosopher…

Something inside whispered:

"This is only the beginning. The world will burn or bow. But first… soup."