The cold settled into Leonard’s chest and stayed there.

Charlotte wouldn’t look at him.

"Looks like it. Seems they’re cutting someone loose."

"Me neither. From the name alone it should only be six. Didn’t even know there was another one."

"Poor bastard."

"Can I at least hear the reason?" he asked. His voice had gone cold, but the hurt was sitting just beneath it, audible to anyone paying attention.

"We’ve had to pull you out of situations you couldn’t handle more times than I can count," the blue-haired assassin said, her disdain unhurried and precise.

"And the Goblin Kings," Charlotte said. "And the Great Serpent. Every time, the same thing — delays, caution, more planning than the situation required."

"If we hadn’t planned, we’d have taken casualties!" Leonard’s voice rose despite himself. He looked at them — really looked — and felt a disbelief settling over him that had nothing to do with anger. This is what they actually think. "Those plans are the reason we all walked away from those hunts."

Leonard’s jaw tightened. "I’m not just an Enchanter. I handle spells, buffs, debuffs, support casting, healing when it’s needed — I can hold a sword when it comes to it. I do the work of three roles and you know that." He took a breath. "And you’re not ready to face the Demon King. None of you are. That’s not fear talking, that’s arithmetic."

The word patient landed somewhere specific.

"No. You know what — there’s nothing left to explain, and I’m not going to stand here and keep talking." He pulled his shoulders back. "We’re done. Good luck."

...

"Did you see that?" Kaiser chuckled. "Reminds me of the old days."

"What do you think? Worth going after the kid?" Kaiser said, still watching the door. "He has potential."

"Saza told us not to go after the Demon King. She said nothing about talking to a freshly discarded odd-job man." Kaiser watched the door Leonard had walked through. "Besides — Arthur is going to need local staff if he’s serious about setting up here. And even from where I’m standing, without any divine sense, I can tell that young man was the one keeping that group functional. They just never noticed it." Kaiser watched the door. "That young man handled finances, logistics, planning, combat, support casting, and whatever else the group needed — all at once, none of it recognized. That kind of person is useful."

"I can’t think of a single reason he wouldn’t." Kaiser was already moving toward the door. "Come on."

The Merchant Guild registration had gone smoothly. Hellfire now existed in this world on paper — a licensed entity, free to conduct business within the city, buy property, sell goods, operate without the friction of being an unknown foreign party.

The city ran on magic the way his world ran on electricity. Low-level enchanted items circulated the air in homes, kept spaces cool and livable. Ice magic stood in for refrigeration. People conjured cold water, cold treats, small comforts — all through spellwork so ordinary it had stopped being remarkable generations ago. The infrastructure was invisible because it had always been there.

He was still thinking through the possibilities when the girl ran into him.

The bakery owner arrived seconds later, red-faced and breathing hard, and grabbed her by the shoulder before she could scramble up.

"Sir." Arthur’s voice was easy. "It’s just a bread."

Arthur reached into the coin pouch Saza had pressed on him earlier and drew out three silvers. He held them out. "Is that enough?"

Arthur shook his head and looked down at the girl. She’d gotten herself upright without taking the hand he offered, the bread tucked back against her chest, her eyes moving between him and the street behind him — calculating her exit.

"My brother and mother are hungry." Her voice was barely there. "I need to get back."

He stood there a moment, then continued walking.