Malric sat down on a rock, grunting as he removed the heavy plate from his shoulders. Underneath, he wore only travel-worn clothes. From inside the armor, he pulled out a ragged flute, carefully, like it mattered.
The others looked away. The boars didn’t like demihumans. The younger ones stepped back. The adults stood still. No one watched him, except Nolan.
Malric held his sword loosely.
"Hey," he said, calm but firm. "You gonna give that back? That’s my sword."
"I will. I promise," Nolan said. "But... just talk to me for a second."
Malric gave him a flat stare. "What’s there to talk about? You’re dangerous. People like you throw nature out of balance. You’re not supposed to exist."
"Coming from someone like you, that’s ironic," Nolan replied.
They stood opposite each other on the rock, eyes locked. Nolan still held the sword.
Malric didn’t flinch. "I know I’m not supposed to exist either. But I’m here. And I’m here to stop people like you."
Nolan leaned back, resting against another rock. "I’m not a villain. I didn’t choose this. I was dragged into this world without warning. Dropped in a forest. I’m just trying to survive."
That made Malric’s expression shift. His posture straightened. "You were summoned?"
Nolan hesitated. Crap. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Malric stepped forward. "What did you say?"
Nolan sighed. "I didn’t plan to tell anyone. But fine. I tried to save a girl, back home. Next thing I knew, I was talking to an archangel. Said I was caught in a summoning. I wasn’t meant to be the one. It was a mistake."
Malric’s eyes narrowed. "Is that true?"
Malric studied him for a long moment. He could sense the power, massive but blurry. Unreadable. Still no way to grasp Nolan’s full ability.
"That makes sense," he muttered. "You’re overflowing with mana, but you don’t even seem aware of it. Not even the summoned hero had this kind of strength."
"I don’t know what any of that means," Nolan said. "All I know is I’m surviving. I actually kind of like it here. This world’s rough... but it feels more real than mine ever did."
Malric extended a hand. "My sword."
Nolan held it out and placed it gently into his palm.
They sat together on the rock. The tension eased, just slightly.
"You don’t seem like a bad guy," Malric said. "I misjudged you."
"I told you that. What changed your mind?"
"Body language," Malric said. "It doesn’t lie."
Nolan smirked. "Well... you’re scary. I’ll give you that. You’ve got the face of a tiger. Or maybe a lion."
Malric snorted. "Humans are the weird ones. All bone and eyebrow."
Nolan glanced around. "So... what now? I can’t live in the woods. Don’t you have a house or something?"
"No house," Malric said. "Didn’t come to settle. I came to train."
"Right," Nolan muttered, scooting to another rock.
Malric watched him. "So what’s your plan?"
"I don’t have one. I just want a quiet life. Maybe find a village. But for now, I’m staying put. Unless you can help me get out of here."
Malric shook his head. "No. You’ll have to find your own way."
He paused, then added, "Just don’t side with the enemy."
"I’m not. I’m not a killer."
Malric nodded slowly, then said, "Something is coming. More powerful monsters are crossing over from the demon realm. The seal holding the Demon King is weakening. If it breaks..."
He let the silence finish the sentence.
"We’ll need power. Every drop we can get. If you’re really who you say you are, I could train you. Maybe strong enough to help stop what’s coming."
Nolan didn’t speak. He just listened.
Malric leaned in. "One question. That fight, how did you take my sword so fast? You vanished. Then it was in your hand."
Nolan looked at him. "You really want to know?"
Malric froze. "You’re serious?"
"That’s... that’s deity magic," Malric whispered. "Are you joking?"
"What do you mean, deity magic?" Nolan asked.
Malric turned, voice low and steady. "Let me explain."
"Three thousand years ago, gods walked this world. Real ones. Not monsters like the Demon Lord. They kept everything in balance.
The strongest was Michael. An archangel. He didn’t fight demons, he erased them. Didn’t need to touch them. Just blink, and gone.
They say he could stop time. That was his edge. Battles were over before they began."
Malric’s hand rested on his sword again.
"But then... the gods left. No one knows why. And when Michael was leaving, his dragon, the one that carried him between realms, refused him. It broke the bond.
He nearly killed it, but decided to seal it inside his sword."
He pointed to the weapon.
"This sword. My family’s guarded it for generations. It’s not just a blade. It’s a prison."
He tapped the symbol etched into the hilt.
"This mark, it’s the seal. The dragon’s still inside. Alive."
Then he looked straight at Nolan.
"That’s what you were holding. That’s why it felt different. It’s sacred. And it remembers."
Nolan stared at the weapon, unsure if he should be amazed or horrified.
"Wait... are you sure that really happened?" he asked quietly.
"No one ever confirmed it," Malric said, staring into the fire. "But yes. It happened.
And not just that, you possess one of his abilities."
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you didn’t mistake me for someone else?"
Malric’s voice lowered. "Do you think it was Michael who you met?"
Nolan looked down. "I don’t know. I’m not sure if it was him or not. No one told me anything."
Malric tapped the hilt of his sword. "Now do you see why this sword matters to me? Why I protect it? It could be tied to him. To Michael. If you truly met him, then maybe the gods haven’t abandoned us after all."
He let the silence hang a moment before adding,
"My generation, we were called the Chosen Ones."
Nolan gave him a sideways look. "That doesn’t sound like something to be proud of. Sounds like a burden."
Malric smiled faintly. "Maybe. But to me, it’s what gives me meaning."