Preparing the Perfect Stage!

I honestly can't remember what catalyzed this desire. All I know is I've

admired shadowbrokers for as long as I can remember.

Was it a certain anime? Or was it a manga—or a movie? Eh, I guess it

doesn't matter. I was all in for anything that featured a mastermind, or an

eminence in shadow as I like to call them. These characters were never the

protagonists or final bosses but were relegated to a role behind the scenes

where they flaunted their powers and meddled in the affairs of others. I've

always looked up to the men in the shadows. I wanted to be one of them.

Think of children who worship their favorite superheroes. That was me

but with master puppeteers.

Well, there was one thing that set us apart: My reverence for them wasn't

short-lived. In fact, it buried itself deeper in my heart, never dying out and

always guiding me through life. To become stronger, I learned everything

from karate to boxing, from swordplay to mixed martial arts. I hammed it up

during all my practices, concealing my true power from the world and

preparing for the fated day.

At school, I played the part of being pleasantly mediocre, an unassuming

face in the crowd. Like an NPC in a game or a part of the mob. I didn't do

any harm. But behind this facade of normalcy, I was training full throttle.

That's how I spent my entire youth.

But as time passed, an uneasy feeling started to haunt me: I was due for a

reality check.

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Yeah, that's right.

This was all for nothing.

I realized I'd never become as powerful as shadow commanders in the

stories. It didn't matter how hard I trained in martial arts. Sure, I could

clobber a few punks…but that was it. It'd be a tough fight if anyone drew a

gun, and if I was surrounded by soldiers in full gear, I'd be toast, donezo, old

news.

The idea of a shadowbroker getting curb stomped by some soldiers… Ha!

Ridiculous! Let's say I trained for ten more years—or that I became the

greatest martial artist in the world. I'd still get rekt by a gang of commandos.

Or maybe I'd manage to escape by the skin of my teeth or train hard

enough to fight back. It's all in the realm of possibility. But even if I

somehow managed to do that, these guys could set off a nuke and vaporize

me in an instant. There is a limit to the human body. That much I know.

That said, my master puppeteers would never be taken down by a nuke.

Which means I needed to be impervious to them, too.

What does one need to survive a nuclear attack?

Is it the ability to pack a punch?

Could it be a body of steel?

How about unlimited stamina?

Wrong, wrong, and wrong again. You need a totally different kind of

power.

Some call it magic. Others, mana. Or chi, or aura, or…you get the point.

Anything will do. I needed to obtain this clandestine ability. I'd managed to

reach this conclusion when I finally confronted reality head-on.

I'll try to explain. Let's say someone is on a quest for magical powers.

Anyone would think they're nuts. Hell, I know I would. I'd think they'd gone

bonkers.

But consider this: No one in the world has proved that magic exists—or

disproved it.

I couldn't find these powers with my sanity intact. I had to dive to the

depths of lunacy.

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I started training in a new way that was damn near impossible.

After all, no one knows how to acquire magic, mana, chi, auras, or what

have you.

I practiced Zen meditation; I braved the purification ceremony of standing

under waterfalls; I focused my entire being inward; I fasted; I mastered the

art of yoga; I converted religions; I searched for holy spirits; I prayed to god;

I strapped myself to a cross. There was no right answer, which meant I

groped my way through the darkness and sprinted down my chosen path.

Which brings us here. I'm just about ready to start my final summer as a

high schooler, and I've yet to discover magic or mana or chi or auras…

It is already dark by the time I finish my daily training session.

I pick up and put on my underwear, which I'd chucked to the side, and

wiggle my arms through the sleeves of my school uniform. I have yet to pick

up these secret magical skills, but I've been starting to feel the effects of my

training, I think, of late.

Like right now.

I can see flashing lights going off in my mind and sense the world is

spinning.

It could be magic…or auras… In either case, I'm feeling its effects—

that's for sure. I'm proud to announce that I've completed another successful

session.

When I'm in the thick of it, I rip off every single article of clothing and

get buck naked in the forest. It makes me one with the universe. I bash my

skull into the trunk of a giant tree to physically force out my worldly

thoughts. Plus, it stimulates my brain and urges my latent powers to awaken.

You know, I'm all about logic when it comes to these things.

Yeah, everything's beginning to get all blurry right about now. It's a

sensation comparable to giving myself a concussion. I make my way out of

the forest with the lightest of footsteps, feeling like I'm treading on clouds.

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Just then, I see light—two beams floating in the air and slicing through

space. How strange. They're beckoning me, guiding me somewhere.

"Ma-magic…?" I whisper, tiptoeing toward the illumination.

It must be… It's gotta be! I finally found the powers of the unknown!

I notice that I've gone from walking to sprinting, tripping over the roots of

trees and continuing to stagger forward—on and on like a beast in the forest.

"Magic! Magic! Magic! MAGIC, MAGIC, MAGIC!!!!!" I chant,

bounding toward the lights and ready to snatch them out of midair…

"Hmm…?"

As a pair of headlights flood my vision with a blinding whiteness, I hear

the shrill whine of a sudden brake ringing and ringing.

And then a collision. Its impact pierces through my body… And my

magic…

In conclusion, I was able to find magical powers.

When I open my eyes, I sense that I'm surrounded by its energy, though I

gotta admit it looks different from the two lights. Eh, no biggie.

Oh, and one other small detail: As a side effect, I manage to reincarnate. I

bet I opened a door to another world when I found magic or something.

Whatever.

As for right now, I'm a baby boy, a few months old. I only recently

started forming thoughts, but it's still hard for me to guess how much time

has elapsed at any given moment. Plus, I don't know any words, but I guess

it's plenty to recognize that this civilization is more or less the same as

Europe in the Middle Ages.

But none of that's important. I've acquired magical powers. That's the

end-all be-all. I couldn't care less about how it happened or any bonus

features.

I notice magic as soon as I start displaying glimmers of consciousness. All

around me, I can see minuscule grains of light floating and shimmering. It

reminds me of those times in my past life when I frolicked through a field of

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flowers stark naked—to train and find spirits, obviously.

As it turns out, my training wasn't a total waste after all. I mean, my

ability to detect this energy is proof enough, and I can control it as easily as

my limbs. It's comparable to when I strapped my naked body to a cross, a

nod to Jesus…or maybe when I flip-flopped religions and danced around in

prayer in my birthday suit… I bet every little thing in my training sessions

helped me in the long run. It's already taught me that I can get stronger.

Plus, time is of no consequence for a baby. I'm ready to use these years to

train and become an eminence in shadow, once and for all… Oops, I think

I've made a doodie.

Which reminds me. I heard somewhere that birds let their droppings

dribble out involuntarily, and I think human babies are the same. I can fight

the good fight with logic and reasoning, but it feels as though my instincts

take over, whispering Just do it in my ear.

That said, this is me we're talking about. I spent my waking hours training

in my past life. Pooling together all the strength in my body, I tighten my

sphincter, buying me some time…

"Wwwaaaahhhhh!"

…to summon people.

I think it's been ten years.

You know, magic is something else. It means I can surpass the bodily

limitations of humans: lift ginormous boulders with a single finger, dash

twice as fast as a horse, leap higher than a house.

That said, I'm no match for nukes. Well, I know my defenses will

increase with my magical capacity, but have you seen the firepower of those

weapons on Earth? There was a time when I contemplated forgetting about

them entirely, 'cause we don't have nukes in this world.

But what good is a master puppeteer who settles for less?

No good. Not at all.

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That means my next mission is to become strong enough to beat weapons

of mass destruction. After extensive research and training, I found one

potential solution, which I've been incorporating into my daily experiments.

Oh yeah. And it seems I've been born into a noble family. For

generations, members of this family have trained to become dark knights,

who use magic to power up and slay enemies in battle. And as my family's

rising star of a son (…NOT), I'm living my days as your average apprentice.

After all, shadowbrokers need to be extremely selective about when, where,

and to whom they reveal their powers. Yeah…I'll lie in wait until then.

I know I'm not exerting my true potential and that I am cutting corners,

but I learned some skills as an apprentice that have come in handy. Like how

magic is used on the battlefield in this world. It's been a good opportunity for

me to reflect on my own techniques.

To be completely honest, it's clear to me the fighting styles from my past

life were a hundred times more logical and refined than the ones here. I mean,

look at any contemporary martial arts battle. These fighters rebuke

unnecessary movements, drawing from various combat schools and whittling

them down to the crème de la crème. This creates the conditions for the

"perfect" fight. It relies on the rules of the game, of course, but this mental

attitude can be used to identify the best of the best in any situation.

And then consider this world. First and foremost, their fighting techniques

stay in their country of origin. Which means different schools of combat

don't cross borders. Plus, there are certain secret skills that countries won't

allow out of their jurisdiction—not that we'd be able to spread them to begin

with, since no forms of media are readily available to us. This means we can't

combine techniques from other forms of fighting, much less reject or improve

our own.

If I had to describe this system in one word, I'd call it unrefined.

But there's one fundamental difference between the two worlds. That's

right: magic. It completely changes the baseline of physical performance.

Take physical strength, for example.

I can lift someone up with one hand, which means any knowledge about

hand-to-hand combat and wrestling, or "ground fighting," goes out the

window. Even if we're in a mounted grappling position, I can soar through

the air by flexing my abs. If I've got my foot hooked on an opponent in an

offensive guard, I can blast them off me by activating my leg muscles. Yeah.

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Ground fighting is out of the question.

It's like how humans have their method of combat and gorillas have a

breed of their own. And I'll just leave it at that.

There are also differences in the distance and speed at which combatants

step into their attacks—meaning it's harder to predict their movements in

battle. This might be the most important thing. I mean, martial arts are all

about reading your opponent at an appropriate range. The angle, position, and

distance of your attacks are everything.

It took me a while to get the hang of the last one, especially because these

fighters attack from afar. Like sixteen feet apart. I mean, I guess I get it.

They're lightning fast and take ginormous steps, and I'd just assumed this

was their way of fighting…until I realized it was to compensate for their poor

defense tactics.

I'm sure this is relatable to all martial artists: Those who can't guard will

stand too far from their opponents.

It's really scary to get hit. I get it. It's tempting to retreat to where your

opponent can't reach you. But this results in a contest where one fighter

attacks and the other retreats, and vice versa, which is a real snore. You call

this outboxing? Try again. This is just an exercise of running back and forth.

It doesn't matter if the fighters are five or a hundred meters apart. They

can't land a decent hit either way. It could be six or seven or ten meters—it's

all the same.

This has been a public service announcement to close the gap and duke it

out.

But once you cross a certain threshold, one millimeter can make a huge

difference. And it stands at the exact point where I can both land a blow and

react to an attack. Throw in other factors like the angle of my hits, and the

slightest turn can mean an advantage—or a disadvantage. The narrowest of

margins is the best range between two fighters.

A battle shouldn't be about one combatant dashing in sixteen feet and the

other leaping back nineteen.

I guess I came into this whole thing with an idea of what to expect from

other worlds, which—compounded with my unfamiliarity with magic—left

me confused about their combat scene. But, eh, I've gotten my bearings

straight as of late. It's all chill now.

I train every day at home, where our dad basically directs us on how to

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throw down, and I grapple with my older sister. I know she's only two years

older than me, but she has natural talent, according to everyone else. If she

keeps it up, she's the one who will take over as head of the family, which

isn't uncommon in this world, since magic can make women powerful

enough to become the heir.

"Geez, you're so strong…," I whimper every day as she kicks my ass.

But I can't win. If I want to become a shadow commander, I've got to

establish myself as the most average of all background characters.

That's how I've been living out my day-to-day. Tack on lessons about how to

act as an aristocrat and hanging out with people to secure my place as a lowprofile extra, and I've barely got any free time during the day.

Which means the only time for me to train is after everyone else has gone

to bed, late into the night. I may be cutting into my beauty sleep, but I've

been using magic to recover super-quick and meditation to catch some z's in

new ways. And now, I've pretty much got short sleeper syndrome. I make it

work.

Okay, time to get down to business. I blast through my usual training

regimen in the forest. I've got something special planned today.

I heard that rogues have taken up residence in the ghost town nearby.

According to my investigation, it's a large gang of thieves—and the perfect

opportunity to test my new weapon.

I take down bandits here and there. But a whole group of criminals?

That's the event of the year. And I'm always short on sparring partners, so I

welcome evildoers with open arms.

Oh, please, please, please infest this place with more crime!

I think it's standard for villages to try to deal with offenders on their own

terms, but they mostly get away scot-free. I mean, our judicial system is in

the city, which is why I've decided to take the law into my own hands.

Today marks the historic day of my first official battle with my newest

weapon. I've been experimenting with it for months and call it the "slime

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bodysuit."

Allow me to explain.

We can use magic in this world to strengthen our bodies and weapons, but

there are energy losses when it's transferred from one form to another. For

example, if I run one hundred currents of magic through an average steel

sword, only 10 percent of them will be of use in combat. A whopping 90

percent is lost. Even a mithril sword, which is known to be compatible with

magic. It's considered high-end if it performs at 50 percent capacity.

That's when slimes caught my eye. A slime is a magical being that uses

energy to change form and wobble from place to place. According to my

research, I've found they have a conductivity of an astonishing 99 percent.

On top of that, they're in a liquid state, which means they can change their

shape at will.

I started testing slime jellies after capturing and crushing their cores—

easily more than a thousand of them. In fact, I pushed them to the brink of

extinction in my area by killing too many and had to go on an expedition to

find more.

The jellies are easy to handle and strong, to boot. I successfully molded

the slime into a wearable bodysuit, which is super-lightweight and silent,

unlike armor. Plus, it almost, like, supports my movements? And I've given it

killer defenses, of course.

As for right now, I'm wrapped in a black slime bodysuit. It's a simple, nofrills getup that fits my body perfectly, except for eyes, nostrils, and mouth.

I'm virtually indistinguishable from the criminal in a certain famous detective

manga.

I might want to think up a more suitable design when I'm intervening in a

scheme as a full-fledged shadowbroker.

I manage to arrive at the ghost town late into the night, but I can see a few

lights in the darkness. The thieves seem to be having a feast to celebrate their

robbing of merchants. Wow, I'm super-lucky.

You see, thieves aren't good at planning, and they immediately squander

what they steal, which means they only have something decent right after a

successful attack. And one man's treasure is another man's treasure. What's

theirs is mine. This is how I'll get the funds to become a puppet master.

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Anyway, I crash their feast, excited as all hell—not with a surprise attack,

because that won't make for a good practice session.

"Yahoo! Hand over the loot, scumbags!" I shriek in the middle of their

banquet.

"Wh-who the hell is this puny dude?!"

I mean, I'm only ten years old. Like, duh. It's only natural that I'm short.

"You heard me! Now fork over the goods!" I shout, punting the rude man

across the room for calling me small.

The other thieves finally draw their weapons.

"Hey, keep it up, and we ain't gonna hold back, you bra—…!"

"Take that!" I exclaim as I slice through his neck, severing his head from

his shoulders midsentence.

That's right. My sword is made of slime, which means I can draw it from

my bodysuit when the situation calls for it. And it has a bunch of nifty

functions.

Number one. It can elongate.

"Take that! And that! And that!" I extend my sword and slay all the dinky

thieves in the vicinity.

I stretch the slime out in the shape of a whip with edges as sharp as a

sword. It's my first time wielding it, so I'm a tad nervous, but I can totally

see how it might come in handy.

"And that! And that! And…huh?"

I notice the room has gone all silent as I get a little too carried away with

slashing and slicing around me.

Wait, is there only one guy left?

"Wh-who are you…?"

"Eh, I guess you'll be my guinea pig for function number two."

"Th-the hell do you mean…?!"

"To break it down, you look stronger than the rest of them. I'm assuming

you're like their boss or something, right? Your chances of winning are

squat, but if you let me practice on you, I bet you'll live for, like, two extra

minutes. Good luck."

"S-stop playing, you brat! In the capital, I'm the—…!"

"Hey, you. Skip the speech and come at me."

"Die, dammit!" booms the Boss (or whatever) as he closes the distance

between us, taking his sweet old time to swing at me, and I obviously…don't

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budge.

His sword plunges straight into my chest, and I'm thrown to the ground

on impact.

"Ha-ha! That's what you get for messin' with me! I've mastered the Royal

Bushin method, and… Wh-what?!"

"Ta-daa! …You couldn't even scratch me."

I rise to my feet as if nothing happened, and wow, I couldn't be happier

with my suit's defenses! I mean, these weak-as-shit attacks can't even touch

me.

"I've heard it seems to be all the rage in the capital. Show me."

"Damn you!" swears the Boss as he strikes me.

Yeah. No sweat. As he swings his sword with all his might, I don't even

ready mine, sidestepping and ducking to dodge him, no problem.

The Royal Bushin method, was it? I could get into their ways of wielding

the sword.

I mean, it's not every day you get to see someone fighting over something

other than spirituality, old-fashioned standards, or personal beliefs in this

world. This was a fight motivated by logic. I can see it from his clumsy set of

attacks.

In the length of a second, a small step forward.

I see him calculate his next strike and take creative approaches. That said,

his attacks leave a lot to be desired, and in the next free moment, I step just

out of his range.

"Wh-why…why can't I hit you?!"

"I mean, you're weaker than my old man. Though I guess you're stronger

than my sister. Not that it means anything. And I bet she'll whup your butt in

another year."

"You little shiiiiiiiiiiit!" he screeches, frantically bashing his sword in my

direction.

I parry his advances before kicking him lightly in the shin—snapping my

leg forward quickly as though on reflex.

"Gwah, ah! Why…?" the Boss whimpers, curling into a fetal position and

clutching his leg.

Blood drips from his shin and pools on the ground.

It's a cheap trick, you know. I have a blade as sharp as an ice pick sticking

out from my toes.

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The second handy-dandy feature of the slime sword is that I can wield my

blade from wherever and whenever I want. I thought this tactic showed the

most potential. All I have to do is get in front of the enemy and slash him

with the sword in my shoe, since lower-body attacks are hard to block. I

parry hits, lock blades, and give my opponent a kick. It's nothing flashy, but

it gets the job done.

"I guess we're through."

"W-wait…!"

"You didn't even last two minutes," I note before kicking the Boss in the

chin with the blade on my foot.

Death by impalement.

He twitches as I roll him to the side and rummage through his loot.

"Artwork? I can't sell that. Hard pass on food. Come on. Where are the

cash, jewels, and precious metals? Gimme, gimme, gimme."

There are several carriages' worth of spoils. And many dead merchants.

I whisper to the corpses, "I've avenged you. Now you can rest, knowing

your treasures will be put to good use. I hope you make it to heaven."

I gather my haul and pray in silence. I'm guessing I found about five

million zeni. One zeni is more or less equal to one Japanese yen. All this will

help fund my activities as a shadowbroker. You know, the world would be a

much better place if it were overrun by criminals. Oh, how I wish life were

like a video game and I could encounter enemies by walking down the street.

"Please wreak more havoc in your next life," I say to the Boss, giving him

a thumbs-up, when I notice…something past my fingertip.

"Is that…a cage?"

It looks sturdy and pretty big.

"Did they have slaves? Eh, hard pass on anything I can't trade for cash."

But what if there's something valuable inside? I lift its cover.

"Well, this is…unexpected."

I'm not sure how to describe it, but this cage holds…a mound of rotting

flesh. I can kinda tell it's human maybe, but no clue as to its age or gender.

But it's alive. Wait, it might even be conscious. I peer into the cage, and

the flesh jolts all of a sudden.

I've heard of the Church executing these creatures. I think they're called

the "possessed." They're born as normal humans until their flesh rots out of

nowhere, fated for death. But the Church goes out of its way to purchase

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them, executing them in the name of purification. They claim they're

exorcising demons, but they're really just murdering the sick. But the

ignorant masses applaud and praise them for keeping peace on earth. It's just

as you'd expect from the Middle Ages. What a friggin' downer.

I bet I'd get more zeni than this entire load of spoils if I were to sell this to

the Church, but that's pointless to say since I can't sell it.

Well, I guess I should put it out of its misery.

I stick my slime sword into the cage…when I notice something else.

Namely, this mound of flesh contains an abundance of magic. I've been

training my magic since childhood, but this surpasses mine—it's honestly

beastly. And this…

"Is this wavelength…the effects of a magical overload?"

I guess a magical overload must be the reason this turned into a pile of

flesh. I've suffered its effects firsthand before. If I hadn't gotten it under

control back then, I might've ended up suffering the same fate.

I know magic has certain effects on the body, which I felt all too well that

fated day. I could sense its potential to raise my tolerance for magic and

allow me to handle more of it, but it would be too dangerous to induce a

magical overload. I'd tossed the idea.

But if I were to hypothetically conduct experiments on a product of this

phenomenon…I can get closer to being a shadow commander without any

risks.

"I can use this…," I say as I reach out to the flesh and infuse it with

magic.

Wow, it's been a whole month, huh…? I think as I recall my first encounter

with the mound and heave a sigh, back in the same abandoned village.

I wonder why things turned out this way.

All my experiments on the flesh were going swimmingly—well, until

recently. I spent my days pumping the flesh with magical energy. I mean, it

wasn't my body, so I could go buck wild on it. I was plugging away at my

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little experiment, testing this and that. In all honesty, it was fun. After all, one

of my greatest joys in life is sensing that I'm getting closer to the essence of

magic and watching my power grow before my eyes. I pushed forward,

inching toward the boundaries of magic with more precision, power, and

detail, until I finally had the magical overload under the tip of my thumb

when…a blond elven girl appeared.

I guess it would be more accurate to say I was too fixated on improving

my command of magic to notice the flesh was a blond elf until that moment.

Huh. To think that stinking pile of flesh would return to its original form. I

tried sending her off with a lighthearted farewell—you know, the typical

You're a free elf and Happy trails and You've got a bright future ahead of

you. But she said she didn't have a home, insisting on repaying me for saving

her life, which, er, I didn't actually do. It was all a coincidence.

I considered ditching her before things got annoying, but I ended up

making her Shadowbroker Subordinate A. I mean, she doesn't strike me as

the type to betray me, and she seems smart… There's something about her

that makes me suspect she has too much talent.

And even though she's also ten years old, she's more than enough proof

that elves develop faster mentally than humans.

"And from this day forward, you will be Alpha."

A or Alpha. Either works.

"Understood," she replies with a nod.

She's your stereotypical elf—a beauty with blond hair, blue eyes, and fair

skin.

"And your job is…" I stop to think for a moment.

This is a big one. Her job is to be the assistant to a shadow commander.

No mistakes there. Which means I gotta set the scene by answering some

basic questions. Like, what exactly is an eminence in shadow? And what

purpose do they serve?

Flushing out the appropriate narrative is key. I mean, if I said I was

fighting to get revenge for losing at pachinko slots, I wouldn't seem too cool,

right?

I have to choose wisely. I mean, all my daydreams are filled with

puppeteers from even before I came into this world and certainly after. I've

mixed and matched thousands—no, tens of thousands—of possible scenarios

in my mind. And I have the perfect one for the occasion.

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"To hide in the shadows and prevent the resurrection of Diablos the

demon."

"Diablos the demon…?" Alpha cocks her head in confusion.

"I'm sure you've heard of him. You know, the stories of long, long ago.

Diablos brought our world to the brink of destruction when three brave

warriors—a human, an elf, and a therianthrope, or a hybrid beast—teamed up

to destroy him and protected the world."

"Oh yeah. But isn't that a fairy tale?"

"Nope, it really happened. But the truth is way more complicated than

that…," I continue, as a small, wry smile appears on my face. I mean, getting

to my level and twisting out a scenario from a legend is a piece of cake.

"Just before the heroes slayed the demon, with his very last breath, he put

a curse on them, which is known as the Curse of Diablos."

"The Curse of Diablos? I've never heard of that before."

"Oh, but it exists. It's the curse of the possessed…and the very disease

that ravished your body."

"What? No way…" Alpha goes bug-eyed in horror.

"The descendants of the heroes have suffered from this illness. Back in

the day, the Curse of Diablos used to be curable. Just like yours."

No one would believe that Alpha was possessed until recently. Her

smooth and unblemished skin is evidence to back up my story.

I mean, even though this is a big fat lie.

"It's proof that one is a descendant of the heroes who saved the world.

You know, the possessed used to be lauded, appreciated, and protected—in

the past."

"But no one appreciates us anymore, let alone…" Alpha trails off,

screwing up her face.

"There's someone out there who twisted history—erasing the truth about

the lineage of the possessed and hiding the cure to the curse. What's worse,

these people became targets of shame."

"Ngh…! Who would do such a thing?!"

"Those who scheme to resurrect Diablos. That's because those with the

curse carry the bloodline of the heroes and high levels of magical energy. In

other words, they serve as a major military force for us. On the flip side,

they're a nuisance to his supporters."

"Which is why we're called the possessed and disposed of…"

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"Exactly. You lost your hometown and family—all because you've been

accused of committing a false sin. Aren't they despicable?"

"Yeah. There's no way I wouldn't find them absolutely detestable."

"The Cult of Diablos. That's our enemy. They only work behind the

scenes, which is why we must conceal ourselves, too. Lurk in the darkness

and hunt down shadows."

"I'm guessing they've gotta be formidable if they have enough say to pull

the strings behind the scenes. Which means that our enemies hold positions

of power…and that hordes of people under their control don't know the

truth…"

I nod seriously. "Our journey may be perilous. But we must go forward.

Are you with me?"

"If that's what you want, then I'll devote my life to it. We'll punish these

sinners with death…" Alpha stares at me with her intense blue eyes and

smiles defiantly. Her face is lovely even in its youth and teems with

determination and resolve.

I fist pump in my mind. Whoo-hoo! This elf girl is super-gullible!

Obviously, the Cult of Diablos doesn't exist, which means we'll never

find them. It also provides grounds for me to accuse and slaughter any thief

syndicate in the area for being in the Cult. And I bet we can stake out battles

between fighters and intervene as shadow commanders. And—and we can

say fake-deep stuff for our parting words! Like The end is near… Or The

resurrection of the demon is nigh… And it would be so cool if we could

arrive with the wind on a battlefield, saying You fools… You're being

controlled…, before completely wiping everyone out…! Wow. I could

honestly go on and on.

Right. I almost forgot. The most important part. This name of this

organization…

"We are the Shadow Garden… We lurk in the darkness and hunt down

shadows…"

"The Shadow Garden. That's a nice name."

I know, right? It's sick.

This is the very moment the Shadow Garden and the World's Greatest

Enemy—the Cult of Diablos—is born. I move one step closer to becoming a

mastermind.

"I guess we can start by wielding our magic and practicing sparring with

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each other. I'll act as the main fighter in battle, but you've got to get stronger

to wrangle in the small fry."

"I know. We've got a tough enemy on our hands. I have to raise the bar

for myself."

"Right. That's the spirit."

"And we have to find other descendants of heroes and protect them."

"Uh, erm, yeah. All in moderation."

It would be fun to play shadowbroker with more people, since that'd make

it feel more like a legit organization. But I don't need that many people. I

honestly wouldn't have a problem if it just stayed the two of us.

"Well, for now, let's just focus on getting stronger," I suggest, readying

my wooden sword.

I block Alpha's attack, which has an unexpected bite to it. To think she

was only a novice until recently. Alpha has a good feel for things and plenty

of magical energy, which means I can make good use of her.

Under the moonlight, I swing my wooden sword as these thoughts run

through my mind.