The Foreign Adventurer Association branch.

Watching Villemon lose his temper, Balmung felt... strange.

“You goddamn bastards!!”

“Oh come on, seriously. Just go back already. We said we’d replace it!”

“You little shit, you think you can brush this off with a ‘replacement’?! Where the hell did you learn manners, huh?!”

Among the professors in the Department of Assassination, Villemon was known as a man of considerable character.

And yet he was furious—blazing.

‘It must be because his son was hurt...’

It was an unfamiliar sight for Balmung.

His own father—an almost-forgotten figure from a faraway past.

But what he did remember...

Was the man constantly on the run from the Nibelung Family, stumbling in drunk, spitting curses about Balmung’s mother.

Matriarch Nibelung, in order to preserve her power as the “Constellation of Black Darkness⚉,” regularly killed and absorbed people.

Once, she approached Balmung with a pair of scissors in hand.

Terrified, Balmung had once said to his drunken father—

“Let’s run away, Dad.”

And what had the man said, back then...?

“Bring me the branch director of the Foreign Association! Those bastards touched a cadet from an assassination squad?!”

......He couldn’t remember exactly.

But it probably wasn’t anything like this—this fiery anger over his child’s injury.

More like—

Something much weaker.

Something much more unprotective...

“Move.”

A low voice.

“...Huh? Ah.”

It snapped Balmung out of his daze. Professor Dante stepped in front of him and moved forward.

They were at the Foreign Adventurer Association. As soon as the Hiaka party started demanding answers, the staff pushed back, on edge. “You’ve got twenty minutes until dungeon entry—what are you even doing?!”

Instinctively, Balmung had moved to stand in front of Dante.

“Open the door.”

Dante walked past him and said quietly.

“Professor Dante. You again?”

“Here to protest on behalf of Hiaka, are you?”

“The door. Open it.”

“You think being some hotshot party leader means you can just do whatever you want? We gave plenty of notice. We’ll replace the defectiv—”

Still, they resisted.

Dante placed a hand on his scabbard.

And in the next moment—

KWA-KA-KA-KANG ―

The entire space exploded.

Three, four staff members were blown back, tumbling across the floor.

It was the Giant Soldier’s Sword○.

Balmung’s mouth fell open, not from the destruction—

But from something else.

“......”

Having spent some time with Professor Dante, there was something Balmung had come to realize.

Despite his appearance, the professor was surprisingly pacifistic.

He disliked conflict. Rarely got angry.

It was a separate matter from his fearsome face.

If Dante were a giant stone statue, it would be the kind that looked terrifying—but stood still if left alone.

......And now that statue was moving.

“You out of your goddamn mind?!”

“Hey! Secure the area!”

The martial artists of the Association drew their weapons and charged.

Dante tripped a swordsman coming straight at him, ducked his head to dodge an arrow, and an assassin diving from above like lightning was whipped into the wall by Villemon.

Balmung, too, drew his sniper rifle and began charging it with mana.

“Professor!”

A warrior wielding an axe activated 『Burst Step』, shooting forward across the space. His short-range speed rivaled that of an assassin—

Thud!

—But he was caught by Dante’s hand.

His jaw. Slammed into Dante’s palm like it was a concrete wall.

“Guhhk...!”

The axe clattered to the floor.

Dante drove the man’s head into the wall and knocked him out.

Then, walking again, he said,

“Where’s your branch director?”

Someone stammered, “A-at HQ right now...”

Dante responded calmly.

“Call him.”

Balmung felt something he couldn’t quite describe.

This wasn’t like Villemon’s firestorm rage.

It was calm. Quiet.

But he knew it for sure—Dante was furious, like frozen steel.

“Professor Dante Hiakapo! Have you lost your damn mind?!”

A senior officer shouted from the second floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m perfectly sane.”

“Cut the crap! This isn’t Hiaka—this is the Empire! You think you can pull this shit on foreign martial artists? You’re not afraid of consequences?!”

Cold water poured over Balmung’s head.

Right.

Was this really something that could be fixed?

But Professor Dante didn’t flinch.

“Only those who can’t handle the consequences fear them.”

He looked at them—those trembling.

“And you... are you afraid of me?”

No one answered.

Because they couldn’t handle it.

And realizing that fact—

Balmung felt an intense surge of exhilaration.

At the same time, the image of his drunken, helpless father flashed in his mind.

Eyes turned away, even with blood spilling in front of them.

Then Dante approached the front counter.

Balmung’s eyes locked on the desk clerk, who was slipping a dagger from under his cloak.

He reflexively raised his rifle—

But didn’t fire.

Because Dante had already stabbed the assassin’s hand with a pen, right into the counter.

SMAACK!

“GYAAAAA–!”

The man screamed as his hand was pinned.

Dante turned back to the senior officer.

“The branch director.”

“Y-you fucking psycho...! Are you seriously gonna blow everything up over this?! Huh?!”

“The situation isn’t blown up yet. The branch director.”

“What?! You wrecked this place and roughed up our staff and you think—?!”

“Deputy Habilion.”

The man froze.

Because no one had told Dante his name.

“If I’d meant to escalate this...”

Dante turned his head—and someone shrieked, covering their face with a towel.

They’d been secretly filming Dante with a camera orb.

But Dante was famous for refusing all filming and interview requests.

“...I would’ve started by killing your supervisor.”

And that supervisor—was Habilion himself.

Dante reached out and snatched the orb from the hidden staffer.

With a crunch, he twisted and crushed it. Shards of glass rained down.

“I had intended to assign one of my assassins as a temporary mercenary in Villemon’s team today.”

“And you’re blowing up over one assassin? You Hiakans treat your tools like precious little kids or what?!”

“It’s a matter of principle. My assassin can die if the mission is deadly. But dying like a dog because a reverse summon fails? That’s something I’ll never allow.”

Balmung’s eyes twitched.

“The branch director... No, forget it. Don’t even call him.”

“...What?”

“Tell him to crawl here himself. Because now, I’m going to escalate.”

Everyone in the Association was stunned.

Dante drew his sword.

* * *

Trashy Forbtime.

He’d been having a rough time lately.

Betrayed by colleagues. Scooped on a major exclusive. Lost out on the “Reporter of the Month” award. Coworkers gossiping behind his back. His prized trainee resigned.

His subscriber count was plummeting by the day...! His hairline was following.

“Good afternoon, Professor...?”

That was why he’d come straight to Professor Dante unannounced. Because getting rejected over the phone had started to hurt.

Maybe if he asked in person, he’d get a chance...

Surely he was the only reporter who actually had Dante’s number, right?

“Not a good afternoon.”

Trashy froze.

“......”

He’d never heard a greeting like that in his life.

Not a good afternoon?

“...I-I apologize for showing up out of the blue... If—if you’d like me to leave—”

“No.”

“Ah, um... So you’re not saying you don’t want to talk to me?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then... you’re agreeing to an interview?”

Dante’s expression darkened slightly.

Oh no.

Did he screw something up?

Trashy began to sweat.

“...You really don’t understand words, do you.”

Ah!

It was permission.

Scary ol’ Professor Dante... was being a tsundere.

If he didn’t want the interview, he would’ve just kicked him out!

‘I did it! I scored an interview with Professor Dante! Who’d have thought?!’

All the big outlets had ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ been rejected, and yet here he was!

Persistence pays!

“Let’s begin the interview!”

He reached for his camera orb—but Dante scowled.

“Oh, of course, you won’t allow filming. So I’ll do a handwritten interview instead... haha...”

He quietly stashed the orb.

“When did you become someone who lives by compromise?”

“...!”

The words stabbed him right in the chest.

Living by compromise...?

Me?

Me? Trashy Forbtime. Senior Reporter at Assassination Daily. Seven-year veteran. Multiple Reporter of the Month awards...

He’d once called himself the strongest journalist alive...

But he couldn’t deny it.

Recently, his self-worth had plummeted. And Dante had seen right through him.

‘Maybe I’m overthinking it...’

Fine.

No compromise.

And so, with a notebook in hand, the interview began.

Q. You’ve been the talk of the town lately. With your public clear record, noble houses, the marquis himself, and party leaders have all been singing your praises. How does it feel to achieve such results in the Marquisate League?

A. It’s garbage.

“...Excuse me?”

Trashy blinked.

“What.”

Dante didn’t so much as flinch.

“Ah, no, nothing...”

The interview was weird from the very start.

Was this even allowed?

Q. Could you tell us the reason?

A. Because I’m achieving results among garbage.

“Huuuuh!”

Trashy pressed his lips shut. Assassination Daily was, fundamentally, an imperial media outlet. And Dante was currently active in the Empire! And yet, he was speaking so bluntly?

That too—from the assassin party leader who currently had the highest stock among the marquisate rookies?

“...Professor. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am not okay. Would you be okay, competing against garbage?”

“......”

Whatever the content, this smell...

‘This is an exclusive!’

And a really good one at that. From a traffic perspective!

Q. Still, weren’t the other parties you competed against also outstanding? Not just imperial parties, but also foreign ones. For example, the Harin Party. The Birsch Party from the Khan Federation. Or even Kreuz’s ‘Killer Bee Assassins,’ who said Dante’s success was just luck...

A. Not at all.

“Sorry?”

A. Not a single one among them was outstanding.

(But—what about the Contestant Constellation↑’s Mercenary Party...)

They were the lowest of the low. Absolute trash.

“W-wait a moment...!”

“......”

Trashy paused the interview and took out a water bottle, moistening his throat. The barrage of explosive comments had him dizzy.

Sure, the Contestant Mercenary Party had been pushed to second place by Dante’s party in their second outing.

But even so—calling them trash?

Then suddenly, Trashy asked:

“Professor.”

“......”

“This is a photo of the Contestant Mercenary Party. Do you know who’s who?”

“I do not.”

You don’t?!

You don’t even know them and you’re saying this stuff?!

“......”

Trashy fell into momentary confusion.

A [Constellation] was a national guardian deity.

Usually off-limits—sacrosanct.

And yet, the professor was trampling all over that line.

‘But...’

He looked into those eyes. Those stunningly clear pink eyes.

A journalist’s instincts told him: Professor Dante was saying exactly what he wanted. There was not an ounce of manipulation or political motive.

‘Even though he doesn’t know them, he still believes they’re not worth knowing... That’s a terrifying level of confidence.’

Still, this was too much.

Trashy decided to throw the professor a bone.

Q. However, as you know, many Constellations, including the Contestant Constellation↑, are busy with their own training, and thus may not have the time to properly cultivate their warrior groups...

“Stop.”

“...Excuse me?”

“If you’re going to keep spouting bullshit like that, I’m ending this interview.”

Thud. His heart sank.

Bullshit?

“Do those look like ‘warrior groups’ to you?”

Trashy’s mouth dropped open.

Dear god!

Was he going there too?

“...That’s—technically true. It’s an open secret that the Constellations use their parties as tools to exert influence across various territories.”

Trying to sympathize, Trashy offered a line of agreement.

A. What the hell do you know to be running your mouth?

...Huh?

That wasn’t it?

“...Isn’t that what you were trying to say?”

Professor Dante took a deep breath—then let out a long sigh.

As if this was all just so utterly pathetic.

‘...It’s not?’

Then what was he really trying to expose...?

No way.

A flash of realization hit him.

‘Ah...’

Yes.

That’s what he meant to say.

Something only a genius professor could bring up. A problem rooted deep in the Empire—a rotten, outdated system.

Q. ......I understand now.

Trashy smiled.

A. No. You don’t.

“Professor, please!!”

He was losing it!

He didn’t know what was what anymore, and his mind was about to snap from sheer frustration.

So he decided to go on the offensive.

Q. So, you’re saying the entire Marquisate League is low-quality?

A. Wrong. The Marquisate League is the most elite league in the Empire. Because the Marquis’ discernment is astoundingly excellent.

Q. When you say Marquis Vincent’s discernment is excellent, are you referring to the many high-quality parties gathered here?

A. There’s something more important than all of them combined.

Inside the 「camera orb」, Professor Dante smiled.

A. The Marquis chose me.

⋮

Around that time, the door to the dormitory swung open.

“I’m backkk~”

Gray returned from personal training, dragging his tired body back to the dorm mansion.

“I’m backkk~ Danttehh~ Caramel macchiato-flavored gelatooo~♬”

She was muttering nonsense as she took off her outerwear...

And then froze mid-movement.

Because she made eye contact with Trashy.

“......”

“......”

A moment of silence passed.

Then Gray bared her crooked canine.

“The hell? A goddamn burglar in broad daylight?”

GASP!

“W-what? A burglar?! No, no! I’m Trashy Forbtime! Department Chief of Assassination Daily! I’ve been—”

“Oi. If you’re gonna lie, at least put some effort into it. Don’t you know we don’t do interviews?”

Gray pulled out a dagger from her belt.

Schwing—

“Kreuz send you?”

Oh shit!

The SSS+ assassin cadet had drawn her blade.

Trashy waved his hands frantically in protest.

“I-I-I got permission for the interview from the professor!!”

“...What?”

“Professor! P-please clarify!”

As Gray moved forward, a shift in angle revealed Professor Dante behind the door.

“...Huh? He’s actually here... Is this someone you know, Professor?”

“I do not.”

Trashy’s complexion turned ghostly pale.

.

.

.

.

.

The next morning.

“You may be released now.”

I was discharged after being detained in the holding center. At the end, the Marquisate branch director of the Foreign Association—who’d been running and hiding the whole time—came and bowed his head.

“I deeply apologize for the mismanagement... We will provide better support and grant your assassin party additional dungeon entry tickets...”

At first, I thought Sharman had handled it for me.

But that wasn’t it.

According to the 【Script】, Marquis Vincent seemed to be more fond of me than I’d expected. He had personally ordered my release.

Why...?

Was it because my assassin party had been ranking high lately in the Marquisate League?

Meanwhile, as soon as I got out, people swarmed me.

“Professor Dante! May we request an interview?!”

“Did you mean what you said in that interview?!”

“What did you mean by saying those aren’t warrior groups?!”

What the—

Where did all these reporters come from?

“I don’t do interviews.”

I deflected and hurried away. To the station.

Elise had brought the car. (She somehow had a driver’s license.)

“You did an interview yesterday though?!”

“Professor, your name is being mentioned dozens of times right now on the Constellations’ Starfield⧉—how do you feel?!”

“Constellation Agion⁺₊⋆ has requested a meeting—will you accept?!”

What the hell is this...?

Why are Constellations suddenly trying to cozy up to me?

This isn’t even the Capital League—it’s just the Marquisate League?!

“Marquis Vincent was said to be very pleased—was this your intention all along?”

Why is he happy now...?

Before long, I saw the article pinned to the top of Assassination Daily’s main page—and understood everything.

⋮

—[#1 Trending] Exclusive Interview with Professor Dante Hiakapo

⋮

What the hell is this.