Jurgen's gaze shifted, taking in the scene with quiet astonishment. People his age moved with purpose in every direction, some rushing past with urgency, others locked into disciplined routines, training, working, refining themselves within a system that felt far more organized than he had anticipated.
"Damn… this place is huge."
The words left him almost under his breath, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed the scale of it all.
"So this is the Defense Corps."
A brief pause followed, his thoughts turning inward with a faint trace of disbelief.
'I never expected them to be this structured'
"Yeah," Nemesio replied casually, continuing forward without breaking stride. "This is just one of them, the one I placed you in."
Jurgen's gaze shifted toward him at that, the surprise giving way to something sharper, more pointed.
"One you placed me in?" His attention flicked forward again, watching the coordinated motion around them, the order, the discipline. "You didn't exactly give me a choice."
"Best believe I picked the right one for you."
Nemesio cleared his throat as he said it, a faint smirk settling across his face, the kind that carried quiet certainty rather than arrogance.
Before Jurgen could respond, movement surged ahead of them. Defense Corps members aligned in precise formation, their motions sharp and synchronized as they bowed in unison, the sound of it echoing faintly across the open space.
A voice rang out from the front, loud and commanding.
"WELCOME TO THE BANJO DIVISION, LORD NEMESIO!"
The force of it carried through the structure, drawing attention even from those already engaged in their duties.
Nemesio's gaze swept across them with casual ease. "Where's your captain?"
"He's gone on a mission, Lord Nemesio," another voice answered, equally firm, projecting from within the ranks.
A brief nod followed, acknowledgment without ceremony. Nemesio turned slightly, his hand resting momentarily on Jurgen's shoulder before giving him a light push forward, subtle yet decisive.
"This is your new member—Jurgen Einzelberht. See that he's properly taken care of."
"YES, SIR!"
The response came in perfect unison, their voices striking with disciplined precision.
Nemesio stepped back, satisfaction lingering in his expression as his attention returned to Jurgen. "Now then… have fun."
A small wave followed, casual, almost dismissive, accompanied by that same knowing tilt of his head, and then he was gone.
Not a flash. Not a distortion.
Simply… gone.
The bowed heads lifted almost immediately after, the formation dissolving as the members returned to their respective tasks, order reforming itself without hesitation.
Jurgen remained still, his gaze fixed on the empty space Nemesio had occupied just moments ago, the realization settling in with quiet weight.
We're on a completely different level.
That hadn't been teleportation.
There had been no visible transition, no trace of movement to follow, only absence.
He was just… that fast.
A slow breath escaped him, his thoughts tightening around the gap he had just witnessed.
Dammit
I still have a long way to go.
And yet, even that realization carried another behind it, heavier, harder to ignore.
To think there's someone even stronger than him.
His hand clenched at his side, fingers tightening instinctively.
That leonidas…
The name lingered with a sharp edge.
He stands on the same level… and he's only a few years older than me.
Silence pressed in, not from the world around him, but from within, as doubt crept into the spaces ambition had yet to fill.
Am I really built for this?
Can I even do it?
The questions churned, overlapping, refusing to settle into anything definitive—
"WELCOME, NEWCOMER!"
The voice cut cleanly through his thoughts, snapping him back with sudden clarity. His head lifted at once, eyes landing on the tall figure before him, and without hesitation, he dipped his head in return.
"Thank you."
"Ask around for KRM. He'll get you your uniform."
Another voice cut through, tone was firm, efficient, already moving on, as though Jurgen had seamlessly become part of something far larger than himself the moment he stepped forward.
"You can begin your missions tomorrow, once the High Chief Commander, or our captain returns."
The statement came with practiced indifference, as though such matters required no further elaboration. Jurgen inclined his head slightly, acknowledging it, though his attention lingered.
"Thank you… where do I find this KRM?"
His gaze settled on the man before him, steady, expectant.
For a moment, nothing happened, then the air around the figure seemed to tighten. His expression sharpened, and without warning, he shot Jurgen a fierce glance, the hostility in it abrupt and unfiltered.
"ASK AROUND!"
The words cracked through the space, harsh and edged with something unnecessarily aggressive.
Jurgen's expression stiffened, his gaze dropping just slightly, not in submission, but in restrained irritation.
What a rude bastard.
The thought surfaced easily, accompanied by a quiet, immediate distaste.
"What's with that look?"
The man's voice lowered now, the earlier volume replaced with something more pointed, more deliberate. There was a mocking edge to it, as though he had caught onto something unspoken.
"Don't tell me you're having any funny thoughts."
A faint smirk crept across his face, the kind that invited conflict rather than avoided it.
Jurgen said nothing.
He simply looked at him.
No reaction, no expression, just a steady, unyielding gaze that carried more weight than any response could have. Silence stretched between them, thick but controlled, until it became clear that nothing more would be offered.
The man clicked his tongue softly under his breath before turning away, dismissing the exchange as he began to walk off, having failed to draw even the slightest reaction.
Jurgen remained still for a moment longer, then shifted his weight and took a step forward, intent on moving on—
"Hey!"
The voice came from behind, distant at first, yet distinct enough to cut through the surrounding noise as it called out to him.
"Jurgen-san… Jurgen-san!"
The voice carried from behind him, faint at first, then growing louder with each call, persistence replacing distance.
Jurgen turned… and froze.
His entire posture collapsed in an instant, almost comically so. His shoulders slumped, his back curved, and his mouth fell open in unfiltered disbelief, a faint twitch pulling at the corner of his eye as recognition struck with brutal clarity.
"FATTYYY!"
The shout burst out of him far louder than intended, echoing just enough to draw a few stray glances.
The round figure continued forward regardless, each step heavy, breath ragged, his entire body laboring under the effort as he closed the distance with stubborn determination.
…oi… don't tell me he actually followed me here.
Jurgen's eyes narrowed into a strained squint, teetering on the edge of outright disbelief as he watched the approach.
By the time the boy finally reached him, he looked moments away from collapse. He bent forward immediately, hands braced against his knees, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady his breathing.
"Jur…gen-san…"
The words came out broken, forced between uneven gasps, as though even speaking required more strength than he had left.
Jurgen stared at him, the disbelief refusing to fade. "What the hell are you doing here, fatty?"