The kid had been following them for three days.
Sneaking from rooftop to rooftop. Ducking behind barrels. Diving dramatically into bushes that didn't need diving into. He had a notebook. A very serious notebook, the front scrawled with charcoal in all-caps.
"INVESTIGATION LOG: DEMON LORDS IN DISGUISE"
Because there was no way these people were the chosen heroes.
Everywhere they went, something blew up. A food cart exploded because the tall one with the screaming and the hair challenged a cabbage vendor to a duel. A library caught fire because the blond one with the smug smile mistook a magical scroll for a napkin. Even the quiet one had caused a literal storm that melted a statue of the city's founder.
The kid clutched his notebook tighter. "No real heroes could cause that much collateral damage. They're demons. I knew it."
Now, he crouched behind a barrel outside the town's loudest, rowdiest bar—"The Tipsy Troll." Inside, muffled chaos echoed out like the warm rumble of doom.
He peeked through a dirty window.
Inside the bar…
Alaric was trying to win a drinking contest against a minotaur.
He was failing, but heroically.
Thorne had convinced a group of mercenaries to let him arm-wrestle all of them at once and yelled "NOW I'M A TABLE!"
Cael sat at a corner booth with two locals and a chalkboard. The board read,
"A detailed breakdown of why this world might be a simulation and we're all fictional."
Renna was juggling mugs of ale, with her feet, while standing on the bar and singing a tavern remix of a pop song from Earth.
Lys sat in a booth alone, sipping her drink, smiling softly.
The bar was a storm of sound. Laughter. Arguing. Singing. Magic. Clinking glasses. Fire breath.
To the kid outside, it was obvious: "This is it," he muttered. "They're throwing a victory party… just like villains do."
He turned a page in his notebook. "Tomorrow… I'll expose them to the world. I'll be the one who saves us from the fake heroes."
He looked up at the moon. It was bright. Calm.
Unlike literally everything going on inside.
Inside the Tipsy Troll, things had escalated.
Not in a dangerous way—no, this was more like watching a circus if the performers were drunk, magical, and completely unaware they were the main act.
"CAEL! CAEL! CAEL!"
The crowd chanted as Cael stood precariously on top of three stacked chairs, balancing a glowing sigil in one hand and a full mug of ale in the other. His paranoia-fueled confidence was sky-high.
"I CALL THIS... THE TOWER OF VISION!"
He shouted just before sneezing and launching the sigil across the bar like a magical frisbee. It hit the chandelier. The chandelier started spinning. Fast. Sparkles of light and minor lightning bolts burst out like it had just leveled up.
"THAT'S A LEVEL THREE CHANDELIER NOW," Cael declared, pointing proudly as everyone ducked.
Meanwhile, Thorne was still arm-wrestling all the mercenaries. But the rules had changed.
"You arm-wrestle with your soul now!" Thorne shouted, his glowing divine lance being used as a very inappropriate table leg.
One of the mercs blinked. "What does that even mean—?"
Too late. The floorboards beneath the table exploded into a puff of glittering sparks as Thorne flexed so hard, a sonic boom cracked one of the bar's windows.
"MY BAD," he grinned. "SOUL STRENGTH TOO HIGH."
Alaric, cheeks flushed red, had now appointed himself King of the Bar.
Literally.
He'd found a broken stool leg, taped it to his forehead like a horn, and was galloping between tables on all fours, shouting.
"BEHOLD! THE ALEUNICORN!"
"Please stop," Lys muttered from her seat, sipping her cider, eyes wide with secondhand shame.
"I CAN'T STOP," Alaric yelled, knocking over a tray of peanuts. "THE CROWN HAS CHOSEN ME."
Renna, now upside down, had bet the barkeep she could drink a whole mug of ale while doing a handstand… on the back of a moving customer. She was halfway through the drink when the guy realized what was happening.
"IS THIS… NORMAL?" he asked.
"Define normal," she replied, chugging the last drop.
Lys was quietly humming to herself, looking around the bar.
Then the door burst open.
"WHERE'S THE ALEUNICORN?!" someone from outside shouted.
"HE'S ME," Alaric screamed, galloping toward the voice, knocking over two chairs and one guy named Greg.
Outside, the kid with the notebook ducked just in time.
"…They are demons," he whispered to himself. "And now one of them is a unicorn. This is worse than I thought."
The moment the kid tried to sneak away, a shadow loomed behind him. He turned around slowly—and instantly regretted it.
Alaric was crouching, wide-eyed, with a broken stool leg still taped to his forehead.
"Hey there, tiny citizen," he grinned. "Do you believe in magic ponies?"
The kid blinked. "You're not a pony."
"Not yet!" Alaric boomed, tossing glitter into the air like he was casting a spell. "But dreams are the hooves of destiny!"
"Wha—?"
Before the kid could backpedal, Renna popped up behind him and casually dropped a fried potato into his hand.
"You look stressed. Eat this."
"I'm not hungry—"
"It's fried in duck fat and destiny. You're hungry."
The kid stared at the potato like it might explode. Then Cael walked in with an armful of napkins and a paranoid glint in his eyes.
"DON'T EAT THAT," he hissed. "IT COULD BE LACED. EVERYTHING COULD BE LACED."
Renna rolled her eyes. "It's literally a potato."
"EXACTLY."
"Cael, stop scaring children," Lys said, dragging a barstool across the floor to make space for the growing circle around the kid.
Thorne, who had been arm-wrestling himself and winning, leaned over. "So, what brings you to this circle of absolute chaos, small youth?"
"I—uh—I thought you were demons," the kid stammered, trying to hide the tiny notebook he was scribbling in. "You blew up the sewers."
"That was sanitation innovation!" Renna corrected, pointing a finger in the air dramatically.
"We made the city cleaner," Thorne nodded.
"Too clean," Cael muttered under his breath. "Something's wrong. We'll need to burn the ground again, just in case."
The kid's eyes went wider.
"See? That's what I mean!"
Lys tilted her head, her voice gentle. "What's your name?"
The kid hesitated, then mumbled, "Mio."
"Well, Mio," she said with a little smile. "We're the hero party. Mostly. Technically. Sometimes. Maybe."
Alaric bent down so they were eye level. "And you just got promoted to 'Designated Sane Person.' It's a tough job. You'll probably cry. But you'll also get snacks."
Thorne slapped a whole loaf of bread in Mio's hands.
"There. Welcome to the party."
"I'm not joining your—"
"Too late!" Renna declared, placing an old colander on his head like a helmet. "You've been absorbed by the chaos."
Mio stood there, bread in one hand, potato in the other, colander slightly crooked.
"…I'm telling the church."
"Tell 'em we want more potatoes next time," Alaric said, galloping past him again. "And fewer chairs. I've destroyed like, six."
The bar roared with laughter. The chandelier sparked.
Mio sighed.
"…They're definitely demons."
But he didn't leave.
Thorne, with the confidence of a man who's wrestled a minotaur just to impress a pigeon, suddenly scooped Mio up like a sack of rebellious potatoes.
"We ride, small one!" he bellowed, kicking the bar's double doors open with both feet. "THE TIME FOR REDEMPTION IS NOW!"
"PUT ME DOWN—!"
"You've been chosen by fate! Or maybe indigestion! Either way, hold on!"
The rest of the party blinked at the swinging doors.
"…Did Thorne just kidnap a child?" Cael asked, sipping from a suspiciously bubbling drink.
Renna grabbed her coat. "Again?"
"Yep," Alaric nodded, stretching. "Well, we better follow. Kid's probably about to experience the 'Thorne Tour of Heroic Proving,' which is definitely not sanctioned by any government or god."
Outside, Mio was flailing wildly in Thorne's arms.
"THIS IS ILLEGAL! I'M TELLING THE GUARDS!"
"I am the law!" Thorne yelled, even though he very much wasn't. "Behold! The hero party in all its glory!"
The group marched through town like a rogue parade.
Alaric kept summoning glowing swords and tossing them into fountains to "bless the water."
Renna juggled three torches and a bottle of rum, occasionally lighting pigeons' tails on fire—by accident, she claimed.
Cael handed out "warding runes" to passing children. They were napkins. He looked terrified.
Lys was trying to keep a straight face while apologizing profusely to everyone they passed. She only tripped once.
And Thorne? Thorne hoisted Mio onto his shoulders and shouted inspirational quotes that he definitely just made up on the spot.
"Behold, young Mio! This is what heroes do!"
"You're lighting flags on fire!"
"Symbolism!"
"You stole that apple!"
"I liberated it!"
"You're not helping your case!!"
They stopped at a fountain square, where Thorne posed triumphantly on top of a bronze goose statue, one foot on its beak, shouting.
"WE ARE THE TORCH IN DARKNESS! THE GLUE OF JUSTICE! THE… something-something of heroism!"
Mio stared, slack-jawed, as townspeople started clapping—clapping—for reasons unknown.
Lys dragged her palm down her face. "We've accidentally become street performers again."
"Again," Renna repeated.
Mio looked at all of them. This strange, chaotic, absurd party that was supposed to be the saviors of the world.
"…You're still demons."
Alaric grinned and ruffled Mio's hair. "Maybe."
Alaric plopped down beside the fountain, the magical glow of a recently summoned sword still flickering behind him as Renna and Thorne wrestled in the background over who could juggle flaming chickens better. Lys was trying to stop Cael from warding a tree. The tree looked offended.
Meanwhile, Mio sat stiffly beside Alaric, arms crossed, still clearly unimpressed.
Alaric leaned back, arms behind his head, his hair catching a stray glint of moonlight. He looked up at the stars with a lopsided smile.
"You know…" he started, "I don't even know why we were chosen."
Mio side-eyed him. "Aren't heroes supposed to be brave? Noble? Inspirational?"
Alaric chuckled. "Right? That's what I thought too. Before we got yoinked out of our old lives and dumped into this world like last-minute seasoning in an unfinished stew."
Mio blinked. "What?"
"Exactly," Alaric said, laughing again. "We're… not exactly the shining example of righteousness. I mean—look at them."
CRASH!
Thorne just fell off a rooftop. Again. Renna was laughing so hard she dropped her torch, which set Cael's "anti-demon napkin" pile on fire.
Alaric gestured lazily. "That's our Champion, our Rogue, our Strategist, and our Glorious Incendiary… whatever Renna is. And me? I'm just a guy who can hold a glowing sword and pretend I know what I'm doing."
Mio frowned. "But you act so sure."
"Confidence is 90% lying and 10% flailing until it works out." Alaric looked at him. "Truth is, Mio, we're just… trying. Living the most out of this insane new life. Not because we're heroes, but because we're here. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough."
Mio stayed quiet, looking down at his shoes. The sound of Cael screaming as a squirrel ran off with his scrolls echoed through the night.
"…You guys are so weird," he muttered.
"Yup." Alaric grinned. "But we're weird together. That's the magic."
Behind them, Thorne climbed back onto the fountain, soaking wet, and screamed, "ROUND TWO, MORTALS!"
Alaric leaned in, whispered like a conspirator: "Run now, or he's gonna challenge you to a duel."
Mio's eyes widened. "W-Why would I duel him?!"
Alaric stood, already walking away. "No clue."
Mio tried—really tried—not to laugh.
He bit his lip when Cael tripped over a squirrel and faceplanted into a bush. He almost kept a straight face when Lys panicked and summoned a glowing bow just to try and save a falling mug of root beer. He even held it together when Renna accidentally pickpocketed herself and screamed betrayal.
But then Thorne, soaked from head to toe, marched triumphantly back into the bar carrying a goat he insisted was now their party mascot—named "Justice"—and screamed.
"THIS SHALL BE OUR LEGAL REPRESENTATION IN ALL FUTURE DUNGEONS!"
And Mio lost it.
A small snort escaped him, then a chuckle. And then the dam broke. He laughed. Loud. Hard. The kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt and your eyes water. The group paused, surprised… and then cheered.
"WE GOT A LAUGH OUT OF HIM!" Renna shouted.
Cael threw a handful of shiny pebbles into the air like confetti.
Thorne saluted the goat, then promptly slipped on his own wet boot and fell with a dramatic yell of, "I REGRET NOTHING!"
Alaric walked back over and ruffled Mio's hair. "See? We are the good guy"
Mio said, still laughing. "You guys are insane!"
"But it's fun, isn't it?" Lys added, her smile warm and easy.
Mio wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still catching his breath. "Yeah… Yeah, it kind of is."
Justice the goat bleated in what could only be described as cosmic approval.