Jobs kept coming.
Harder ones.
Escort missions through corrupted zones. Subjugations against beasts that normally required full mage squads. Retrievals from ruins no sane party would touch.
They passed.
Not cleanly. Not without injury.
But they passed.
The title stuck.
Manaless S-Rank.
Some said it with awe.Some with disbelief.Some with resentment.
Owen didn't care.
What he cared about was that his blade moved cleaner now. His reactions sharpened, his awareness widening like ripples in water. He noticed things sooner and felt danger before it arrived.
One evening, on the outskirts of a burned village, he stopped suddenly.
Lysa turned. "What is it now?"
"…Something's wrong," Owen said.
Brunn frowned. "I don't sense anything."
"But i feel it."
They didn't argue.
They never did anymore.
They detoured.
Seconds later, the ground behind them collapsed into a nest of burrowing beasts that came out jumping at them.
Brunn stared at Owen. "…You idiot you jinxed it."
Lysa exhaled slowly. "Crap, why do you have to be right?," she said. "Can you see the future or something?"
Owen didn't answer as he had already unsheathed Seishi ready to face the beasts.
But deep down, he wasn't really sure on how he knew.
That night, Owen was out on watch alone, he unsheathed Seishi.
The blade didn't glow.
Didn't hum.
It simply reflected the firelight, dark and endless.
Owen stared at his reflection in it and frowned.
For just a moment...
It wasn't his face staring back.
He blinked.
The image vanished.
"…I might be tired," he muttered.
He sheathed the blade and leaned back against the tree, eyes on the stars.
He didn't know where he was headed neither did he know who he is and that scared him more than any mana beast he fought.
When they returned to Stonehaven it had changed again.
No banners. No proclamations. Just looks that lingered a little too long. Whispers that stopped when Owen walked past. Contracts that used to sit untouched suddenly stamped URGENT once their party's name was written beneath it.
Manaless S-rank's party did that.
People expected monsters from you once you wore that title.
They learned quickly that monsters didn't always roar.
The guild hall was quieter that afternoon.
Not empty just tense.
Owen leaned against a pillar near the job board, arms crossed, Seishi resting at his side, still wrapped. Lysa stood beside him, scanning parchments with narrowed eyes. Brunn sat at a table behind them, repairing a dent in his hammer, humming off-key.
"This one's bad," Lysa muttered. "Trade route's gone silent. Third caravan this month missing."
Owen read the details. "No survivors?"
"None confirmed."
Brunn looked up. "That means something smart."
Owen nodded. "Or something patient."
They took it anyway.
The road stretched long and open, flanked by tall grass swaying in the wind. Wagon tracks cut deep into the dirt… then vanished.
Lysa crouched, fingers hovering just above the ground. "No signs of struggle."
Brunn frowned. "Caravans don't just evaporate."
Owen's gaze drifted ahead, unfocused. His steps slowed.
"…They didn't fight," he said.
Lysa looked up. "How do you know?"
"Because nothing chased them," Owen replied. "They followed."
Silence.
Brunn tightened his grip on the hammer. "Followed what?"
Owen didn't answer immediately.
Then—"People."
The ambush came without warning.
Not beasts.
Men.
Bolts rained down from the hills. The ground erupted as traps snapped shut where wagons once rolled. Figures emerged in coordinated lines, armor mismatched but movements disciplined.
Mercenaries.
"No insignia," Lysa hissed. "Private group."
Brunn cracked his neck. "They picked the wrong party."
The fight was sharp and ugly.
Not chaos—calculation.
Owen moved through it like water through cracks, blade flashing only when needed. Seishi sang quietly as it cut through steel and flesh.
Lysa took down their flanks, precise and merciless. Brunn held the center, unmovable, laughter booming even as blood splattered all over his armor.
Minutes later, the road was silent again corpses laying all over.
Only one man lived.
He knelt trembling, blade shattered, eyes locked on Owen like he was seeing a ghost.
"You're not normal," the man whispered. "No mana… no fear…"
Owen crouched to his level, eyes dull without a sliver of mercy in them. "Who hired you?"
The man laughed weakly. "Doesn't matter. You're already on their list."
"…Whose list?"
The man swallowed. "People who live in the shadows. They're everywhere."
Owen stood.
The man ran.
Owen let him.
That night, they camped farther from any road than usual.
No jokes. No stories.
The fire cracked softly.
Lysa finally broke the silence. "This wasn't about cargo."
Brunn nodded. "They were testing something."
Their eyes turned to Owen.
Owen stared into the flames. "Me."
Lysa sighed. "Yeah, you."
Brunn leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. "Good news is, we're strong."
"Bad news?" Lysa asked.
Brunn smiled grimly. "Strong things attract unwanted attention."
Owen's fingers brushed the pendant at his chest.
For a split second, the ache returned. Dull. Deep. Familiar. The feeling of fear.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Then let them look."