Chapter 15: Three Months Later

Three months had passed since Leon Brightwood first registered at the Stonebrook Adventurer’s Guild, and in that time, the very air in the town seemed to have shifted. It was as if the world itself were tilting toward him, a gravitational pull that drew fame, fortune, and fanatical loyalty into his orbit.

The Hero’s Ascendance

Leon stood in the center of the guild’s private training yard, his upgraded steel sword—a gift from the Voss family—moving in blurring, silver arcs. Sweat glistened on his forehead, but his breathing remained rhythmic and controlled. He had shot up to C-rank in record time, a feat that would have taken a normal adventurer years. But Leon was not normal. He was the recipient of constant, high-tier resource dumping from the women who surrounded him.

His party had become a local legend, but also a source of hushed, uneasy gossip.

Seraphina Voss floated a few feet away, her silver hair shimmering in the afternoon light. Her eyes were no longer merely interested; they were feverish, tracking Leon’s every muscle contraction with a terrifying intensity. The S-rank healer had grown dangerously obsessed. She would cast high-level rejuvenation spells if he so much as stubbed a toe, and she spent her nights researching ancient mana-augmentation rituals to "purify" his path. Her hostility toward outside women had reached a psychotic peak; she had once nearly blinded a barmaid simply for leaning too close while serving Leon his ale.

Elara was no better. The princess had practically abandoned her diplomatic duties at the capital to remain in Stonebrook. She spent her days crafting expensive, one-of-a-kind enchanted accessories for Leon, blushing furiously whenever he thanked her. She had taken to fixing his hair and adjusting his collar in public, marking her territory with a soft, royal possessiveness that brooked no argument.

Mira, the cat-eared beastkin, had become openly, physically clingy. She treated Leon like a pillar to be climbed, often rubbing her cheek against his shoulder or scenting his cloak after a hunt. She pouted and hissed at any female adventurer who dared to look in Leon’s direction for more than a second.

Serena, the red-haired warrior, acted as the group’s enforcer. She was the "shield" that didn't just block monsters, but blocked the world. She had recently smashed a training dummy into splinters simply because a young male adventurer had suggested Leon needed a more "balanced" party with more men.

“Absolutely not,” Seraphina had replied to the suggestion, her voice like a razor on glass. “We don’t need useless, mediocre men dragging Leon down with their incompetence.”

Elara had followed up with a chillingly polite smile. “Our party is perfectly balanced. We provide everything Leon could ever need. New members are... unnecessary.”

The harem had closed ranks. They were a self-contained ecosystem of obsession, revolving entirely around the golden-haired farm boy. Leon, ever the earnest protagonist, remained mostly oblivious to the darker undercurrents. He simply thought his friends were "very protective" and "a bit intense."

The Shadow’s Grind

While Leon’s group was bathed in sunlight and praise, Viktoria and Lena had been forged in the dark.

Viktoria slammed her black-iron dagger into the neck of a final goblin, twisting the blade with a sickening crunch before ripping it free. She stood up, her chest heaving, and wiped a streak of green ichor from her cheek.

She looked nothing like the obese noble who had crawled out of the forest. The mysterious potion had completed its brutal, efficient work. The excess weight had been stripped away, replaced by hard, functional muscle. She was toned and powerful, with thick thighs that could crush a man’s ribs and a core like tempered steel. However, the potion’s "aesthetic" geas remained. Her waist had narrowed to a sharp, feminine curve, which served only to emphasize her outrageously large breasts and heavy, rounded backside. Even in reinforced leather armor designed for stealth, she was a walking distraction—a fertility goddess with a killer’s eyes.

“Nice kill. Clean. Efficient,” Lena said, walking over while she retrieved an arrow from a goblin’s eye socket.

The two had become a formidable C-rank duo. Lena’s surgical precision with the bow complimented Viktoria’s surprising, explosive strength in close quarters. They had earned a reputation for taking the "dirty" jobs—the ones that didn't come with glory, just a paycheck and a high body count.

“Not bad for a couple of 'disgusting commoners,' right?” Viktoria grinned, her voice still carrying that raspy, cynical edge. “Let’s bag the ears and get out of this hole. I want a bath that doesn't smell like goblin piss.”

The partnership was the only thing keeping Viktoria sane. Lena didn't care about the gossip, and more importantly, she didn't stare at Viktoria’s chest. She respected the work, and in this world, that was the rarest currency of all.

The Forced Union

When they returned to the Stonebrook Guild hall that evening, the air felt heavy. Captain Roldan, the stern, battle-scarred branch manager, was waiting for them near the central mission podium.

“Viktoria. Lena. Sit,” Roldan commanded. His face was grim. “We have an urgent situation. A medium-sized dungeon—the 'Hollow of Weeping Veins'—has manifested near the border hills. It’s rated C-rank, but the mana readings suggest it’s evolving fast. We need a reliable, high-output strike team.”

Viktoria felt a prickle of intuition at the back of her neck. “And?”

“Orders from the capital, reinforced by the Voss family,” Roldan said, not looking them in the eye. “You two are being paired with Leon Brightwood’s party for a joint subjugation. You provide the local knowledge and frontline grit; they provide the high-tier magic and healing.”

Viktoria’s stomach did a slow, nauseous roll. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Roldan. We work alone. We’ve always worked alone.”

“This isn't a request, Viktoria,” Roldan barked. “The Voss sisters specifically asked for 'the most experienced local trackers.' That’s you. You leave at dawn.”

Viktoria walked away from the counter in a silent, white-hot fury. She could already see the next few days playing out like a car crash: Seraphina’s elitist sneers, the suffocating atmosphere of Leon’s harem, and the risk of being drawn into the Hero’s "Destiny."

“Fuck my life,” she growled as they stepped into the cool night air. “Of all the parties, of all the protagonists... why did it have to be that circus?”

Lena glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “You’ve spent three months avoiding them like they’re the plague. I’ve never asked why, but if we’re going into a dungeon together, I need to know if you’re going to freeze up.”

Viktoria stopped and looked at her friend. “I’m not going to freeze. I just have a very bad feeling about Leon Brightwood. He’s a magnet for the kind of chaos that gets people like us killed. He’s the 'Hero,' Lena. In his story, everyone else is just a stepping stone or a sacrifice.”

Lena didn't argue. She had seen enough of the world to know that "heroes" were often the most dangerous people to be around. “We’ll handle it professionally. We do the scouting, we kill the monsters, we collect the gold. We don't talk to them unless we have to.”

“Easier said than done,” Viktoria muttered.

The Dawn Meeting

The next morning, the sun rose in a pale, sickly yellow. Viktoria and Lena arrived at the guild gates fully geared. Viktoria wore her custom dark-leather bodice, reinforced with steel plates over her vital organs, and her twin daggers hung at her hips. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, practical braid.

Leon’s party was already there, looking like they belonged on a recruitment poster. Leon was radiant in his silver-and-blue plate armor, his golden hair catching the light. The four women surrounding him looked like they were going to a gala rather than a dungeon.

Seraphina’s eyes immediately locked onto Viktoria. Her gaze traveled from Viktoria’s boots to her face, pausing with visible contempt at her chest.

“Oh, wonderful,” the healer sneered, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “They actually paired us with the cow. I suppose we’ll need someone to carry the heavy bags.”

Elara didn't sneer, but she watched Viktoria with a cool, calculating detachment, as if measuring whether this newcomer was a threat to Leon’s attention. Mira’s ears twitched with predatory curiosity, and Serena simply crossed her arms, her green eyes sizing up Viktoria’s muscular build with a grunt of professional interest.

Leon, oblivious to the toxicity, stepped forward with a genuine, beaming smile. “It’s great to finally meet you both properly! I’m Leon Brightwood. I’ve seen you around the guild—your record is incredible. I’m looking forward to learning from you on this quest.”

Viktoria stared at him for a long beat. He was so earnest it made her teeth ache. She saw the "Hero" aura shimmering around him, that invisible force that demanded the world love him.

“Yeah,” Viktoria replied, her voice flat and cold. “Let's just get this over with. The dungeon isn't going to clear itself.”

Inside, Viktoria was screaming. She was the villain of this world, or at least she had been. Now she was a C-rank mercenary with a body that wouldn't stop growing and a protagonist who was too nice for his own good.