A heavy silence hung over the audience chamber, the ticking of the wall clock echoing like a hammer striking stone. The nobles exchanged glances, yet none dared to voice their thoughts first.
Queen Eldoria, who had been silently observing Nico from her throne, slowly exhaled a deep breath. Her eyes now bore a different light—not of doubt, but of conviction as steadfast as the roots of the world tree.
"In that case..." she finally spoke, her voice calm yet resolute, resonating through the chamber. "If we are too preoccupied with questioning whether Sir Nico is an enemy, then we have already failed our people."
Some nobles flinched, others bowed their heads in silence. The queen’s words echoed in their minds like a whip striking their conscience—the people had already chosen their stance, and now it was the leaders’ turn to listen.
"Very well, Nico Mustang," the Queen continued, rising from her throne, her white robe billowing like moonlight. "In the name of the Kingdom of Alfheimr, I hereby grant you permission to partake in this war."
Nico’s eyes sharpened, his body remaining kneeling, yet his gaze unwavering. In that moment, he knew his words had not only been heard—but accepted.
"Furthermore," the Queen said with a slight nod, "allow me, as the ruler of this land, to beseech you as a warrior... Please, help us. Drive the invaders from our soil."
The chamber, once frozen in suspicion, now transformed into the starting ground of a new Chapter. With a single sentence, the man from another world was no longer merely a guest—he had become a beacon of hope.
"I accept this task, Your Majesty." Nico’s voice rang firm, almost like the sound of a freshly forged sword. With his head slightly bowed and hand over his heart, he uttered an unspoken vow that would define his path ahead.
It didn’t take long. The Queen’s decision became law. Though murmurs of discontent stirred among the conservative advisors, not one dared to oppose her openly. The tension of war demanded swift and absolute action—and the Queen had chosen the one she trusted.
With steady steps, slightly restrained due to wounds that had yet to fully heal, Nico exited the palace hall. His destination was clear—the back courtyard, where his car had been relocated at his request. Prior to the meeting, he had asked a royal messenger to prepare for his needs while he stayed at the palace.
His jet-black car now sat in the open, looking strangely out of place amid the kingdom’s classical architecture and the glowing trees typical of elven lands. But that wasn’t what made Nico stop in his tracks.
The voice made him turn his head. From the side of the palace, a large figure dashed toward him—like a streak of silver-white under the morning sun. Alfred and Bella—two majestic snow tigers—charged at him with the energy of overexcited children.
And they weren’t alone. Their three cubs—each the size of a full-grown housecat—bounded after them, leaping toward Nico with uncontainable enthusiasm. One of them even sniffed at Nico’s foot like a kitten reuniting with its owner.
"Ugh... you guys..." Nico let out a soft laugh, crouching down as he reached out to pet Bella’s head. "Can’t snow tigers act like, well, tigers... and not house pets?"
Alfred gave a low snort and sat upright next to Nico with the regal presence of a jungle king. Despite his massive, muscular frame, his tail swayed gently like that of a puppy greeting its owner after a long journey.
"Thanks for watching over my car, all of you..." Nico said softly, stroking Alfred’s head with quiet reverence. His movements were calm, a sincere expression of respect for the loyal beasts who had stood by him through the storm.
Bella nodded slowly from a distance, while their three cubs frolicked around Nico, occasionally nibbling at the edge of his cloak. A soft chuckle escaped him, the harshness of war momentarily dissolved by this simple warmth.
A quiet voice broke the peaceful silence from behind. "Who would’ve thought the mighty Penal tigers would get so attached to you? I must admit, I’m impressed, Sir Nico."
Nico turned, locking eyes with a formally dressed Elf standing calmly with both hands behind his back. The glow of the setting sun illuminated his silhouette—it was Aaron, the young minister who had defended Nico in front of the judgmental nobility.
"Ah, Aaron-san," Nico greeted with a friendly tone.
"No need for formalities, Sir Nico," Aaron replied with a small, courteous smile—sincere, yet wrapped in the elegance of Elven decorum.
"Same here. I’m just a wanderer... but thank you. You helped me earn the Queen’s trust."
Aaron nodded, then let out a slow breath. "Of course. It was my duty. But honestly, I also have personal reasons to be grateful. Among the hostages you rescued... there was someone very dear to me—Sylphia, the wife of a close friend. She’s like a sister to me."
Nico’s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, only scratched his head awkwardly a few times. The unease wasn’t from pride, but from the humility of someone unused to such heartfelt praise.
"She asked me to pass along her thanks... and also a gift. That’s why these crates are here," Aaron continued, motioning to a row of elegant wooden boxes neatly arranged beside the car.
"The materials you requested through Sylphia caused quite a stir. The former hostages and their families all pitched in and d more than what you needed. Some even sold their valuables to contribute."
Nico looked at the crates. His expression remained calm, but inside, he was shaken. This wasn’t just war logistics—this was trust.
"And one more thing," Aaron said as he opened a small box, revealing a glow of silver-green light from within, "Mithril. One of the most precious materials in our land. It requires special Elven techniques to craft—shall I summon the royal blacksmith for you?"
Nico gazed at the glimmering mithril for a moment. The bluish-silver metal caught the late afternoon sun, radiating a cold yet beautiful glow like frost on a leaf. Calmly, he shook his head.
"...No need. I can handle it myself," he said firmly, without the slightest hint of doubt.
Aaron paused, his expression betraying a trace of disbelief. "Really...?" he asked, half in wonder. After all, mithril was sacred to the Elves—not just hard and light, but ethereal, requiring delicate high-level magic to manipulate.
But Nico didn’t reply with words. He lifted the chunk of mithril with one hand and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, a deep blue light glowed in his irises, like tranquil flames resting beneath a frozen lake.
The air around him shifted. The space shimmered slightly as his hand moved, and the mithril—normally unyielding—began to soften, curve, then melt like wax under a flame. Its shape transformed with remarkable precision, bending to Nico’s will as if the material had become an extension of his body.
Aaron stood speechless. Not just in shock, but in awe—what he had just witnessed went beyond even the sacred Elven methods of mithril crafting.
Though his face was stunned, Aaron remained composed, maintaining his posture in the presence of the wonder he had just seen. There was fear, yes, but not of danger—of reverence, born from deep respect. What he saw wasn’t just skill, but the poise of someone in full command of their power.
Aaron composed himself and bowed slightly, returning to his role as a royal aide. "In that case, is there anything else you need me to prepare, Sir Nico?" he asked, still courteous, now with a touch of caution—as though speaking to someone far greater than a mere guest.
Nico glanced at the now-shaped mithril and placed it on a special rack beside his car. He rolled his neck slowly, as if just now realizing the tension in his shoulders from earlier concentration. Then, with a casual tone that almost sounded like a joke, he answered:
"Ah, if it’s not too much trouble... just get me some water."
In that moment, the stiffness between them eased. Aaron paused before letting out a small smile. For someone who could shape mithril barehanded, such a mundane request seemed absurd—but therein lay his humanity. Not a god, not a monster—just a man, thirsty after hard work.
"Very well, Sir Nico. I’ll have it ready right away." Aaron bowed and walked off with a light step.