Chapter 265: Sign Up

The capital of Albion was called Camelot.

Nathan stepped out of the carriage and into chaos as they arrived.

The city was massive—far larger than Marriet. Stone walls rose high above, their surfaces carved with the crowned lion sigil of the royal family. Banners hung from every tower, crimson and gold, snapping in the morning wind. The streets were packed with people—merchants, travelers, adventurers, nobles in fine clothes, and commoners in rough wool. Horses pulled carts loaded with goods. Children ran between the legs of adults, laughing and shouting. Guards in shining armor patrolled the main thoroughfares, their spears gleaming in the sun.

It was alive, bustling and overwhelming.

Nathan took a breath and stepped aside, letting the other passengers disembark.

The two retired adventurers approached him first. The older one—the one who had headlocked the bandit leader—clapped him on the shoulder.

"You’re a strange one, archer," he said. "F-Rank, but you fight like a veteran. I won’t ask where you came from. But if you ever need a favor, look me up. Name’s Gerald. I run a farm outside the city."

"Thomas," the younger one said, offering his hand. "Same goes for me. You saved our lives back there. That counts for something."

Nathan shook their hands. "Thank you. Both of you."

The bard stepped forward next. He was a young man, maybe twenty, with a feathered cap and a lute that had seen better days. He was still pale from the encounter with the demonic beast, but he managed a shaky smile.

"I’ll write a song about you," he said. "The Archer Who Fought the Demon Stag. It’ll be a hit in every tavern from here to the coast."

"You don’t have to—"

"I insist. It’s the least I can do." The bard bowed dramatically. "Farewell, mysterious archer. May your arrows always fly true."

He disappeared into the crowd, already humming a tune.

The mother and her son approached last. The boy was still clinging to his mother’s skirt, but he was smiling now. The fear had faded.

"Thank you," the mother said quietly. "For saving us. For saving my son."

Nathan knelt down to the boy’s level. "What’s your name?"

"Eli," the boy whispered.

"Eli. That’s a good name." Nathan smiled. "You were brave back there. You didn’t cry. You stayed quiet. That’s important."

Eli nodded solemnly.

The mother squeezed Nathan’s hand. "If you ever need anything—"

"I’ll be fine. Take care of your son."

They left. Nathan watched them disappear into the crowd, then turned to face the city.

---

Camelot was impressive.

The architecture was a mix of old and new—ancient stone walls reinforced with modern masonry, wooden buildings standing beside marble temples. The streets were paved with cobblestones, worn smooth by centuries of foot traffic. Street vendors hawked their wares from wooden stalls. Adventurers in mismatched armor argued over quest postings. Nobles in fine silks rode through the streets in ornate carriages, their servants running ahead to clear the way.

Nathan stopped a passing guard—a young man with a tired expression and a spear resting on his shoulder.

"Excuse me," Nathan said. "I’m looking for information about the summoned hero."

The guard blinked. "The hero? You and everyone else in the kingdom." He sighed. "The royal family is hosting a tournament to select the members of the Hero’s Party. Five spots. Anyone can enter. Winner gets to fight alongside the summoned hero."

"A tournament?"

"Yeah. Registration is at the royal arena. One week from now. You want in, you’d better hurry. There are already hundreds of applicants."

Nathan nodded. "Thank you."

He turned and walked toward the arena.

---

The royal arena was a massive structure of white stone and gold, its walls carved with scenes of ancient battles. Banners hung from every pillar, and guards patrolled the entrances. A long line of applicants stretched from the registration desk to the street.

Nathan joined the line.

The man in front of him—a burly warrior in heavy armor—turned and looked him up and down.

"You’re an archer?" the warrior asked.

"Yes."

"You know the tournament is for the Hero’s Party, right? You’ll be fighting monsters. Real monsters. Not target practice."

"I’m aware."

The warrior snorted. "Your damn funeral."

Nathan didn’t respond.

The line moved slowly. As he waited, he studied the other applicants. There were warriors, mages, rogues, priests. Some were young, barely out of their teens. Others were veterans, scarred and grizzled. All of them had one thing in common—they wanted to be part of the Hero’s Party.

A commotion near the front of the line drew his attention.

A massive man—easily seven feet tall, with shoulders like a barrel and arms thick as tree trunks—was looming over three smaller figures. The three were dressed in plain grey hoodies, their faces hidden by deep hoods. They stood together, silent, as the giant jabbed a finger at them.

"You’re in the wrong line," the giant growled. "This tournament is for humans. Not for your kind."

One of the hooded figures—the smallest of the three—stepped forward. "We have every right to register," she said. Her voice was soft but firm. "The tournament is open to all."

"Not to your kind, it isn’t." The giant reached out, grabbing the hood of the smallest figure. "Let’s see what you’re hiding under—"

He never finished the sentence.

The tallest of the three hooded figures moved. One moment, he was standing still. The next, he had the giant’s wrist in an iron grip. A twist, a pivot, and the giant was on his knees, his arm bent at an unnatural angle, a strangled cry escaping his lips.

"I would advise you not to touch her," the hooded figure said. His voice was calm. Almost pleasant.

The giant’s face was purple with pain. "You—you can’t—"

"I can. And I will. Now, apologize."

The giant gritted his teeth. "I... I’m sorry."

The hooded figure released him. The giant scrambled backward, clutching his arm, and fled into the crowd.

The hooded figure turned, and as he did, his hood fell back.

Nathan’s breath caught.

The man was beautiful. Not handsome—beautiful. He had high, elegant cheekbones, flawless pale skin, and long silver hair that fell past his shoulders. His eyes were the color of pale green jade, and his ears were long and pointed. An elf.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"An elf? Here?"

"That’s impossible. The elves never leave their forests."

"He’s from Solara. Must be."

"Even the other kingdoms are interested in the hero..."

The elf ignored the whispers. He turned to the two other hooded figures—his companions—and spoke quietly. Then he pulled his hood back up, hiding his face once more.

Nathan watched as the three of them walked to the registration desk. The clerk didn’t even look up as he took their names and fees.

"Interesting," Nathan murmured.

The line moved forward. Nathan reached the registration desk.

"Name?" the clerk asked, not looking up.

"Nathan Cross."

"Rank?"

"F."

The clerk finally looked up. His expression was unimpressed. "F-Rank? You know this tournament is open to all ranks, but the competition is fierce. Most of the applicants are B-Rank or higher."

"I’m aware."

The clerk shrugged and wrote something down. "Entry fee is five silver. You’ll be notified of your match schedule within three days. Don’t be late."

Nathan paid the fee and received a small wooden token with a number carved into it. He was number four hundred and thirty-seven.

He pocketed the token and left the arena.

---

Far across the city, in the royal palace, a boy was trembling.

He was seventeen years old, with messy black hair and wide brown eyes. He was dressed in fine clothes—a silk shirt, leather trousers, polished boots. He was standing in a luxurious room with tall windows, velvet curtains, and a bed large enough for four people.

And he was staring at a glowing blue panel floating in front of his face.

[Status Panel]

Name: Kenji Tanaka

Class: Hero

Level: 1

Skills:

· [Sword Mastery Lv.1]

· [Hero’s Charisma Lv.1]

· [Divine Protection Lv.1]

Kenji’s hands were shaking. Not with fear. With excitement.

He had been summoned. Actually summoned. Like in the manga he used to read. Like in the games he used to play. He had been pulled from his ordinary life in Japan and dropped into a fantasy world.

This was it. This was his chance to be someone. To be special.

He grinned, his heart pounding in his chest. "I’m a hero," he whispered. "I’m actually a hero."

A knock at the door made him jump.

"E-Enter," he said, trying to sound confident.

The door opened.

A woman stepped inside.

She was beautiful. Tall and slender, with long silver hair that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were the color of pale sapphires, and her smile was warm and inviting. She wore a luxurious gown of white and gold, embroidered with the crest of the royal family.

"Greetings, Hero," she said, her voice soft and melodious. "I am Princess Amelia, first daughter of King Aldric."

Kenji felt his face flush. She was gorgeous. Like a princess from a fairy tale. Like the kind of woman who would fall in love with the hero and help him save the world.

"I—I’m Kenji," he stammered. "Kenji Tanaka."

"A fine name, for a fine man" Amelia smiled, stepping closer. "I have heard much about you. The summoning was a success, thanks to the efforts of our archmage. You are the first hero to be called in over a century."

"I... I’m honored."

"As I am to be in your presence, hero." Amelia stopped in front of him, her scent—something floral and expensive—filling his senses. "You have been given a great responsibility, Kenji. The Demon King threatens our kingdom. Our people. Our very way of life. You are our only hope."

Kenji straightened, trying to look heroic. "I won’t let you down, Princess."

Amelia’s smile widened. "I know you won’t."

But behind her eyes, a different thought was brewing.

You foolish boy. A naive child plucked from some mundane world. You think this is an adventure? You think you’re the chosen one? Her smile never wavered. You are a tool. A weapon for me to wield as I see fit.

She extended her hand. "Come. There is much to discuss. The tournament to select your party members begins in one week. We must prepare you."

Kenji took her hand, his heart racing. "Thank you, Princess. I promise I won’t let you down."

No, Amelia thought, her smile perfectly warm. You won’t. Because you won’t have a choice.