Evan POV

  I was squished—literally—between Aisha behind me and Daisy in front as we made our way toward the Magician’s Library on horseback.

  And of course, true to form, Aisha had decided now was the perfect time to start whining.

  “GAAAH! Why do I have to go!?” she groaned, flailing behind me. “What’s wrong with going home for, like, five minutes of rest after fighting the flippin’ Moon Lord!?”

  “Because I know you,” I shot back, not even turning around. “You’d fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow, then ghost me for a week.”

  “So what!? What’s wrong with that!?” she huffed.

  I sighed, already regretting this ride. “Did you already forget Walter’s condition? Who’s gonna help me heal him while you’re off dreaming about cake and sparkles?”

  Behind me, she went quiet for a second—just long enough for Daisy to chime in.

  “Wow,” Daisy said, glancing back at us with an amused smirk, “you two really are like siblings, huh?”

  “Well,” Aisha said with a shrug I could feel through my back, “we did say that, didn’t we?”

  “I thought you were joking…” Daisy replied, eyebrows raised. “But it still makes zero sense.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Daisy,” I muttered. “She’s just a little stupid.”

  “Mou! I wanna go to bed!” Aisha whined, and then—because apparently she was five years old again—started flailing like a toddler. She kicked at my sides and smacked my shoulders with her arms.

  “Stop hitting me, I swear—”

  Daisy struggled to keep the reins steady, trying not to laugh while balancing both the horse and the chaos behind her.

  The horse, bless its soul, trotted forward like this was completely normal. Not a care in the world. Honestly, I envied its calm.

  If I had more control over my wings, I would’ve flown to the library myself. But I was still learning, and the last thing I needed was to crash-land through a stained-glass window and cause another incident.

  The city around us had calmed down significantly. The earlier panic from the Moon Lord’s appearance had faded. Most of the citizens had either gone into hiding or returned to help with recovery. The streets were clearer, but eerily quiet.

  No guards in sight.

  They were probably still scattered around the outer districts, helping with containment and cleanup.

  But just as we reached the last corner near the library—

  We heard it.

  The sharp clash of weapons. Shouts. Screams. Spells being flung.

  The unmistakable sounds of a battle.

  “What’s that sound?” Daisy asked, pulling the horse to a stop.

  Aisha’s eyes went wide. “Holy moly… They’re raiding the library! As if it’s black Friday!”

  I could see tons of these guys surrounding near the library.

  There had to be at least a hundred of them.

  Black-robed figures surrounded the front gate of the Magician’s Library like a swarm of ants, all crowding over one another, digging through crates, and tossing out books like they were on a clearance sale.

  There were so many that I couldn’t even see the entrance anymore.

  “Wait… are they—are they stealing the books!?” I yelled, finally piecing together the scene in front of me.

  “What’s a Black Frida—” Aisha started behind me, her tone full of innocent curiosity.

  But before she could finish, I snapped.

  “I’LL SHOW NO MERCY TO YOU DAMN SCALPERS!!!”

  “What?!” one of the masked cultists blurted, turning just in time to see me soaring above them—grappling hook in one hand, shield glowing in the other, flying like divine fury given form.

  I aimed to land in front of the gate, hoping to block them from stealing any more skill books. But mid-air, something caught my eye—

  Luna and the others.

  They were already at the entrance, battling hard. Tifa was launching arrows in rapid fire, Oswald’s mana shield shimmered with every hit, Lucy darted between enemies, and Luna stood like a fortress, her cloak whipping behind her as she kept Hope and Faith close.

  My rage blinked into confusion.

  “Wait… why are they getting ganged up too—Are they protecting the library?”

  I shifted mid-flight, angled toward the group, and used the grappling hook to zip down, ramming full-force into the nearest black-cloaked goon with a shield bash that sent him flying.

  “Evan!” Luna called out.

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  “Papa!” both Hope and Faith cried, their little voices breaking through the noise as they saw me land.

  Everyone looked relieved.

  Me? I was still trying to figure out everyone was after this library? Is there some kind of conspiracy going on that I about to become part of?

  “Luna! Ice wall—NOW!” I shouted.

  She didn’t hesitate. Our training these past few days was worth it.

  She slammed her foot down, and a thick sheet of jagged ice erupted across the front line, and putting a wall between them and the mob.

  Perfect.

  I pulled together a full 100 MP into my palm, condensed it into a Mana Ball, and imbued it with Seismic Strike.

  Then I slammed it into the ground.

  BOOOOM!!!

  The shockwave detonated outward, blasting everyone on the enemy side like leaves in a hurricane. The ice wall shattered instantly, vaporized by the force.

  When the dust settled, all that remained was a wide, clear space next to the library—and in the center of it, me and my family.

  Hope and Faith wasted no time.

  They squealed and ran toward me, launching themselves like little rockets.

  “Papa! You’re okay!!”

  They collided with my chest, nearly knocking me over, and started rubbing their cheeks against me like excited kittens.

  I laughed, ruffling their hair. “Heya, girls. I’m back. Safe and sound.”

  Then I looked up at everyone else, still panting from the fight.

  “…So. What’s going on? Why were they attacking you?” It was then that I realized that these black cloaked people… Might be the cultists.

  “They’re Cultists!” Tifa shouted.

  My expression shifted instantly—from confused, to annoyed... to pity.

  I gently set Hope and Faith down.

  Then turned toward the cultists who were just starting to get back up.

  “Oh,” I said quietly, cracking my knuckles. “So that’s how it is.”

  These poor cultist bastards just can’t catch a break.

  Ever since I arrived in this world, it’s been one L after another for them. Once feared as genocidal maniacs—boogeymen in black cloaks—now reduced to mid-bosses whose plans crumble every time I accidentally walk into the scene.

  What happened to you guys?

  Did you all get bold just because your big shiny Moon Lord finally showed up?

  Too bad for you guys, it was only an illusion.

  And what’s with this whole library raid anyway? Are they trying to hoard up some rare skill books or trying to resell first editions for ten times the price like cursed fantasy eBay scalpers?

  Thank god my family got here before they could mess up my one and only moment to power up.

  Now don’t get me wrong— I have leveled up a lot from the libarary near by home but that’s just a lot of niche useless spells that I’ve unlocked. This? This place is the real deal.

  Now, I’d still show a little mercy even if you’re the Cultists, Since I don’t want to kill anyone.

  But scalpers?

  You guys deserve all the hate of the world and I shall show no mercy.

  A few of them were starting to stir, wobbling like drunks after a festival fight.

  “What the hell is this guy…?” muttered one of the masked goons, blinking up at me.

  I shook my head slowly, disappointed.

  “Yare Yare…” I muttered, already slipping into the pose.

  My feet planted firmly. One hand extended. The other cocked at a dramatic, unnatural angle. My body tensed as if I’d just grown two feet and got muscular all of a sudden.

  Not literally, but it felt like it.

  Mana surged inside me—fully restored now—and I poured it outward, channeling every drop into a shimmering form behind me.

  A glowing phantom appeared, translucent and towering. It looked like me… if I had spent the last year doing nothing but lifting boulders and smoldering for magazine covers.

  Ripped. Radiating. Ridiculously cool.

  “STAND POWER!!!” I shouted, pointing dramatically as the phantom mirrored my pose, muscles rippling with energy.

  “Damn it—he’s a Summoner!” the masked man shouted, his voice rising in panic. He conjured a blue shield in front of him, magical runes flaring to life.

  Too late.

  “MUDA! MUDA!” I bellowed, as my Stand charged forward.

  My summoned phantom charged forward, aura blazing with ethereal power. It reeled its fist back and delivered a haymaker straight into the cultist’s blue shield.

  BOOOOOM!

  The impact sent a shockwave across the battlefield, loud enough to rattle windows and silence shouts mid-sentence.

  Both the apparition and the barrier shattered instantly—fragments of light scattering like glass in the air.

  I landed, brushing imaginary dust off my shoulder.

  “…Well, so much for acting like a JoJo character.”

  “SHIT!!” the masked man snarled, stumbling backward as the shockwave rippled past his feet.

  I raised a hand and pointed directly at them, voice steady but firm.

  “As long as I’m here…” I said slowly, “I’m not letting you freaks steal even a single book.”

  The cultists all froze for a moment, looking at each other in awkward confusion.

  “What?” said one of them—specifically the one in the back with a white fox mask, tilting his head like a confused NPC.

  That’s when Luna stepped up beside me, her expression cool but her mana swirling hot around her fingers.

  “Evan,” she said, “they’re not here to steal the library books.”

  Tifa moved up to my other side, drawing her bow with icy precision.

  “They’re here to kidnap Hope and Faith.”

  …

  What?

  Lucy’s voice chimed in from behind, calm but sharp—like a knife hidden behind a child’s smile.

  “They even beat Hope up, you know.”

  I turned—slowly—to glance toward the kids.

  Lucy and Oswald were guarding them carefully, standing in a half-crouch with her blades drawn.

  And there—just peeking out from under Hope’s collar—

  A faint stain of dried blood.

  My body went still.

  …

  You know, just a few seconds ago—I said that they deserved mercy.

  That I didn’t want to kill them.

  …

  My head turned slowly toward the cultists, eyes narrowed, voice colder than winter steel.

  They shifted uneasily.

  “I’m going to break every single one of you.”

  I extended my hands.

  Magic surged through me—but not the high-level, flashy spells.

  No. This called for something else.

  “I’ve got about a hundred different spells that aren’t strong enough to kill.”

  The ground beneath me hummed with power as arcane circles flared to life.

  “But they hurt.”

  One of the cultists took a step back.

  “And they’re really good for dragging this out.”

  Another one started to sweat.

  I smiled—but there was no joy in it.

  Only judgment.

  A few of the cultists, clearly getting desperate, raised their hands in unison.

  With a flick of their wrists, swirling purple orbs shimmered into existence—small, pulsing with malevolent energy. They floated forward slowly, like cursed jellyfish riding the air.

  I recognized the spell instantly.

  “Darkball,” I muttered. The same one the goblin magicians used back during their onslaught.

  Cute.

  I raised my left hand and casually backhanded the nearest orb.

  It didn’t deflect.

  It disintegrated.

  A sharp crack echoed through the air as the spell burst into a puff of black gas, curling like smoke before fading into the wind.

  My invisible shield absorbed the brunt of the burst—hardly a scratch.

  Silence followed.

  One of the masked cultists stammered, his voice rising an octave. “I–Impossible!”

  I stepped forward slowly, my boots crunching against debris as I rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles, one by one.

  I could feel the weight of the anger inside me—dull and steady, like a war drum in the distance.

  The Pain Immunity kept the emotion cold, detached. But I knew what I felt.

  And what I felt was vengeance.

  Another cultist stepped back. “W-What!? WHO ARE YOU?!”

  I smirked.

  The energy in the air shifted.

  “I'll show you why I'm called Big Dick Richard.”

  From my inventory, I took out my blade—the Blood Butcher.

  The massive cleaver hissed as it left the inventory, its obsidian-black edge lined with pulsating red veins that pulsed like a heartbeat. It gleamed in the light, hungry.

  The second they saw it—half of them flinched.

  The other half took a step back.

  “...And I brought 14 inches of pure girth for each and every single one of you.”