A Background Character’s Path to Power
Chapter 133 - 1)

"Actually—that might work even better! They could play dual roles—first 'summoning' the beasts, then appearing as mysterious heroes who drive them off! The perfect cover!"

Virion stared at me. Then, to my surprise, he began laughing—that deep, echoing chuckle that usually meant either approval or impending doom.

"Oh, you clever little schemer," he purred, floating closer. "Using my turtles as both villains and heroes in your little play?" His grin turned sharp. "I almost want to say yes just to see the looks on their shells when I tell them."

I matched his grin. "So it's a yes?"

Virion hummed, his tail flicking thoughtfully as he studied me. Then, with a slow nod, he said, "Alright, you can go with the plan. I'll lend you the turtles when the time comes." His grin returned, sharp with mischief. "You can also discuss it with Dono if you want—after the training tomorrow."

I nodded, my earlier excitement now tempered by practicality. The plan was just a rough idea—there were holes in it, risks I hadn't fully considered. But Dono's mind and experience could help refine it, turn it into something airtight.

"Good," I said, exhaling. "I'll talk to him."

Virion waved a clawed hand, and the air beside us shimmered, splitting open into a swirling portal. Beyond it, I could just make out the familiar walls of my dorm room.

"Go on," he said, his voice lighter now, back to his usual teasing tone. "Before I change my mind and drop you into a pit of snow serpents instead."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "See you tomorrow then, Master."

With that, I stepped through the portal—

—and the frozen forest vanished behind me, replaced by the warmth of my quarters. The sudden shift from biting cold to stillness made my skin prickle.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders.

Tomorrow, I'd talk to Dono. And then?

Then we'd set the stage for a performance unlike anything this town had ever seen.

I only hope those guys won't overdo it...

_____ ___ _

Veltria Town.

Snow fell in silent, fat flakes, dusting the watchtower's wooden railing and the shoulders of the two guards stationed there. Dawn had barely broken, the sky still a dull gray, and the older of the two, a grizzled man with a scarf wrapped up to his nose, exhaled a long, weary cloud of breath.

"Just another half an hour," he muttered, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Then this shift's done."

His companion—a younger guard with a perpetual slouch—groaned. "Why do we even bother standing out here at night? In this cold? There's no danger. Nothing ever happens."

The older guard chuckled, breath fogging in the air. "It's the job we signed up for. Besides, the pay's not bad. Puts food on the table, doesn't it?"

The younger one grumbled but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Still, you'd think after years of nothing, they'd ease up on the—"

A sharp nudge from the older guard cut him off mid-complaint.

"What?" the younger one snapped, annoyed.

The older guard didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the roadline, his posture rigid. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed.

"Look. What is that?"

The younger guard frowned and squinted, raising a palm to his forehead like a makeshift visor. "Eh, isn't it just a carriage?"

"I know that, idiot," the older guard grumbled, "but why is it coming so fast?"

"Hmph, must be some student rushing to town," the younger one snorted, crossing his arms. "Probably rushing for the bars or something. Spoiled brats always think rules don't apply to them."

The older guard shot him a sidelong glance, shaking his head.

The kid clearly lacked experience since he was assigned just three weeks ago. Worse, he was arrogant. Bitter, too. Every time a student passed by, he'd mutter something under his breath, jealous of their status, their potential, something he couldn't get.

Alas, the boy hasn't seen real danger yet.

With that thought, the older guard refocused on the carriage, pulling out a small, enchanted viewing scope from his coat. He raised it to his eye—and his frown deepened instantly.

The driver was fully cloaked, whipping the reins relentlessly, urging the horses into a breakneck gallop. Beside him, a black-haired young man—likely a student—was waving frantically toward the walls, his mouth moving in what could only be shouts of warning.

Something was wrong.

The guard adjusted the scope, gaze shifting to the road behind the carriage—

—and then he saw it.

A churning wave of snow, kicked up by dozens—no, hundreds—of moving figures. Small, lithe shapes darted between hulking, monstrous forms, their silhouettes unmistakable even in the dim light.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Beast horde," he whispered. Then, snapping into action, he whirled toward the younger guard and bellowed:

"SOUND THE ALARM!"

The younger guard blinked, startled. "Wha—?"

"NOW, YOU FOOL!" the older guard roared, already yanking the alarm bell's rope. A deafening clang shattered the dawn's silence, followed by another, and another—

—as the first of the monsters appeared more clearly, howling.

"W-What is that?!"

"A monster attack, damn it." The older one grumbled, his voice mixed with fear and annoyance.

The beasts came into full view as the alarm bells clanged through the morning air—a writhing mass of fur, fangs, and claws surging across the snow. At their lead, a monstrous, bear-like creature with jagged ice crystals jutting from its back let out an earth-shaking roar that sent tremors through the watchtower.

The older guard's eyes darted to the town gates—the open side was already swinging shut, the heavy wooden door moving too slowly. His blood ran cold.

"STOP!" he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. "DON'T CLOSE THE—!"

But before the words left his mouth, his vision darkened. A sharp, crushing pain exploded at the base of his skull. His knees buckled.

The last thing he saw was the younger guard's face, but something was wrong again. The sneering, lazy expression was gone, replaced by something cold, calculating.

"Wha...?" the older guard slurred, consciousness slipping.

The younger guard caught him effortlessly, lowering him to the wooden floor with eerie calm.

"...What's happening?" he muttered, though not to himself. His eyes were locked on the carriage now barreling toward the nearly shut gate.

There was no fear in his eyes or confusion.

Just a strange, quiet awareness.

And if anyone had been there to truly look, they might have noticed something else:

The faint shimmer crawling along his pupils—like glass cracking beneath the surface.

"ROOOOAR!"

A sound like thunder rolled again.

And the beasts charged.

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