CHAPTER 48: INTEGRATION PART 2

Albert checked his watch. "We’ve got ten minutes before intel pulls us. Let’s use it."

He turned away from the main yard and headed toward a quieter side of the base, where smaller, simpler buildings stood. These were newer, less polished. Wooden fences. Laundry lines. Children’s voices.

Lyris’s ears caught the sound first.

She slowed. Her eyes focused.

"Those voices..." she whispered.

They turned a corner.

A small residential section opened up before them. Prefab housing units lined the lane—simple, rectangular structures, nothing like Atlas barracks. They had front steps. Small fenced yards. Toys scattered in the dust. Little gardens still struggling to grow.

And people.

Not soldiers.

Villagers.

A woman carrying a bundle of cloth paused when she saw them. Her eyes went wide. Then recognition flashed.

"Lyris?"

Lyris stopped dead.

"Marla?" she breathed.

The woman hurried forward, nearly dropping her bundle in the process. A child’s head poked out—sleepy, confused.

"Goddess above, it is you," Marla said. "You came?"

Lyris swallowed. "You survived."

"Some of us," Marla said. Her eyes glimmered, but no tears fell. "The monsters came from the north tree line. They burned the fields first. We thought—" She shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. These people... they came from the sky. Killed the goblins with thunder. Pulled us out of our homes before they collapsed."

Ragna’s tail stilled.

"How many?" she asked quietly.

Marla’s jaw tightened. "Half the village. Maybe less."

A man further back called out, "Lyris? Mira? Ragna?"

Mira turned. "Tovin."

The old village carpenter walked toward them, leaning on a makeshift cane. His leg was wrapped with clean white cloth instead of rough bandage. The wrapping looked... professional.

"I told them you’d come someday," he said with a weary smile. "Even if it was too late."

Mira’s throat worked. "We’re sorry. The request reached the capital late. No one—"

"No," Tovin cut her off gently. "Save your apologies. You weren’t the only ones who ignored us."

His gaze slid briefly toward the wall.

"The kingdom heard rumors before we sent the request," he said. "They sent a patrol. Too small. Too slow. They never reached us."

Ragna glanced at Albert.

Albert said nothing.

A group of children clustered near a doorway, staring openly at the three adventurers and the soldiers beside them. One boy pointed at Ward’s rifle.

"Is that the thunder stick?" he asked.

Ward raised an eyebrow. "Who told you that name?"

"The tall lady with the missing arm," the boy said. "She said you killed the big goblin with one shot."

Lyris looked sharply at Ward. "The missing arm?"

"Villager," Ward said quietly. "Took a blade for her daughter. We got them both out. Medics are working on her. She’s in the main ward now."

Mira’s jaw clenched. "And if you hadn’t been here?"

Ward didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

They walked a little farther into the residential block. Women sat on steps, repairing clothes. Men checked simple hand tools that had been cleaned and sharpened. Several villagers were gathered around a crate that served as a table, discussing something in low voices. No one looked starved. No one looked beaten.

They looked... tired. But alive.

A young girl ran past, nearly crashing into Ragna. She skidded to a stop, eyes wide, staring up at the werebeast’s ears.

"You’re fluffy," she said.

Ragna blinked. "What?"

"Your ears," the girl said. "They’re fluffy."

Ragna opened her mouth, closed it again, then finally said, "Yes?"

The girl beamed. "They’re pretty."

And then she ran off.

Mira snorted. "You just got complimented by a child."

Ragna touched one ear self-consciously. "Shut up."

Albert watched the exchange with a neutral expression. "This is phase one for Aldo. Stabilization. Food, shelter, basic medicine. After that, we teach them to support themselves with new systems."

"New systems?" Lyris asked.

"Safer water," Albert said. "Better crops. Simple defenses that don’t rely on miracle heroes showing up when goblins attack."

Tovin overheard that. He walked closer, leaning harder on his cane.

"These people... they didn’t ask for coin," he said quietly. "They didn’t ask for land. They asked us questions instead. Who trades with us. Where goblins usually come from. How often the kingdom sends patrols."

Mira nodded slowly. "Intelligence gathering."

Tovin shrugged. "Whatever it is, if it keeps our children alive, I don’t care what they call it."

Silence settled over the group for a moment.

Lyris looked at the neat row of prefab houses again. The small gardens. The children. The cleaned tools.

"This village will never be the same," she said.

"No village ever is, after a massacre," Ragna said bluntly.

Lyris shook her head. "That’s not what I mean. This isn’t rebuilding. This is... replacement. Aldo is becoming something else."

Albert met her eyes. "Would you rather we left it as ashes?"

She held his gaze. "No."

"Then let it become something better," he said. "Or at least something that doesn’t get eaten the next time someone’s late answering a request on a guild board."

Mira flinched at that.

Ragna’s claws flexed once at her side.

Ward cleared his throat. "Command is pinging," he said, tapping his tablet. "We’re due back at intel in five."

Albert nodded and looked at the three adventurers.

"You’ve seen enough for a first day," he said. "You know how we fight. You’ve seen how we treat civilians. Now comes the part where you decide if you want in."

"In... how?" Mira asked.

"Not as soldiers," Albert said. "Not yet. As local partners. Guides. Advisors. People we can trust to tell us if our next step will piss off a kingdom, break a guild rule, or accidentally start a war."

Ragna snorted. "That last one sounds important."

"It is," Ward said. "You don’t want to see what happens when our world fights at full capacity."

Lyris folded her arms. "What do we get in return?"

Albert didn’t hesitate. "Payment. Protection when you’re attached to our operations. Access to our medical care when needed. Gear support—within reason. And if this works long-term... a say in how we handle demon-related operations near your territories."

Mira frowned. "A say?"

"A voice at the table," Albert clarified. "You won’t command Atlas. But we will listen when you tell us we’re about to step in something we don’t understand."

Ragna tilted her head. "And if we refuse?"

"Then you eat our food, sleep in our guest quarters for a night, and we escort you back to the capital with a basic debrief package," Albert said. "You walk away intact. So do we."

Lyris studied him for a long, quiet moment.

"What do you want from us right now?" she asked.

"Right now?" Albert said. "Honesty. Your best knowledge about local power structures, guild politics, noble houses likely to react badly to us. And your answer to one question."

Mira shifted. "What question?"

Albert looked at each of them in turn.

"Do you want to keep operating as three C-rank adventurers," he asked, "or do you want a chance—just a chance—to stand where the world actually changes things?"

The words weren’t loud.

But they hit.

Ragna looked away first, jaw working. "...You talk like a recruiter."

He shrugged. "I am. For survival."

Mira’s eyes dropped to her hands. Calloused fingers. Ink stains. Scars.

"We’ve been fighting small fires our whole lives," she said softly. "Goblins. Ogres. Bandits. Stopping one tragedy while ten others happen two days’ ride away."

Lyris closed her eyes for a second.

She remembered the worn quest notice on the guild board. Aldo’s desperate request. The laughter of younger adventurers who called it a lost cause.

Then she remembered the wall, the helicopters, the fried chicken and hot sauce, the humming machines, the villagers in prefab homes.

Her eyes opened again.

"What you’re building here," she said quietly, "is dangerous."

Albert didn’t deny it. "Yes."

"It will upset nobles, guilds, even temples," Mira added. "They won’t like a foreign power deciding what’s ’stable’ or ’efficient’ in their lands."

"Also yes," Albert said.

Ragna snorted. "You’re great at salesmanship."

He shrugged. "I don’t need you blind. I need you informed."

Lyris looked at her comrades.

"We can walk away," she said. "Go back to the capital. Report what we saw. Pretend this is all too big for us."

Mira exhaled, slow. "We’re C-rank. The guild will say the same thing. ’Too big. Let the kingdoms deal with it.’"

Ragna’s tail lashed once. "The kingdoms haven’t dealt with anything. That’s why goblins were eating villagers while nobles held feasts."

Mira almost smiled. "That might be the most intelligent thing you’ve said all day."

"Bite me," Ragna shot back.

Lyris looked back at Albert.

"What happens if we agree?" she asked.

Albert didn’t sugarcoat it. "You’ll be in more danger than most adventurers ever see. You’ll also have more impact. We’ll give you gear, training, access to our intel. In return, you help us understand this world and navigate it without turning half the continent into an enemy."

Ragna cracked her knuckles. "Do we get to fight things that deserve it?"

"Constantly," Ward said.

Mira hesitated. "And if... if things go wrong? If your world decides this one is too troublesome?"

Albert’s gaze cooled, but his voice stayed even.

"Then I will fight my own people to prevent that outcome," he said. "You have my word."

They didn’t know how much that word was worth.

But they believed he meant it.

Lyris straightened her shoulders.

"All right," she said. "We’ll try."

Mira nodded. "We will not promise blind obedience. But we will cooperate. Share information. Advise where we can."

Ragna grinned, sharp teeth flashing. "And I want more of that fried chicken."

Ward laughed. "That we can guarantee."

Albert inclined his head once.

"Then as of now," he said, "you’re provisional Atlas liaisons to the Adventurer’s Guild and the Kingdom of Altfordia. We’ll formalize it later. For now, we move to intel and start with the basics."

Ragna bounced on her heels. "Basics like what?"

"Basics like who’s likely to try to kill us first when they hear we exist," Ward said.

They started walking back toward the heart of the base.

Children’s voices faded behind them. Engine noise grew louder. The smell of oil and metal returned.

Lyris glanced back once at the villagers of Aldo—at Marla, at Tovin, at the children chasing each other between prefab houses.

Then she faced forward again.

"Albert," she said as they walked. "If we do this... if we help you... and you truly intend to fight the Demon Lord... then understand something."

"I’m listening," he said.

"You’re not just stepping into our world’s war," she said. "You’re stepping into its faith, its fear, its politics. Nothing will remain untouched."

Albert nodded. "Nothing ever does."

Ward pushed the next door open, holding it for them.

"Welcome to day one of integration," he said.