A deep rumbling echoed through the ground, resonating in their very bones. Startled, they lifted their heads to see the massive turtle moving.

Despite its enormous size, the turtle moved with surprising agility—not toward the monsters it had just faced, but toward the humans.

“H-hii!?”

A shriek rose from among the adventurers.

And then, a faint whiff of ammonia… It seemed that some coward had lost control of their bladder.

Even Rampard was shaken, but he hadn’t forgotten the fundamental premise.

This turtle—it had been perched on the shoulder of the boy who had just been riding the griffon.

Shurururu… As if the scene were playing in reverse, the turtle began to shrink.

Returning to its former size, it once again floated gently in the air… and settled onto the boy’s shoulder.

The boy gave a single nod before ascending into the sky on his griffon.

Adventurers, as well as the townspeople who had been watching the fate of their city from afar, gazed up at the figures rising higher and higher.

The griffon soaring through the heavens, and the griffon-riding boy astride it.

It was all too unreal. No one’s mind could keep up with the series of impossible events unfolding before them.

A griffon rider had appeared in their moment of dire peril.

A turtle so powerful it had defeated even the Merman King in a single strike.

If someone merely heard the tale, they wouldn’t even know where to begin questioning its absurdity.

Yet, no one could look away.

Their gazes naturally followed him, and their faces reflected the innocence of childhood.

Yes, this scene before them—it was like the stories their mothers had told them in their youth.

Like a page from the hero epics and legends that had once made their eyes shine with admiration.

No one could tear their gaze away.

Some looked on with the eyes of one beholding a hero.

Others narrowed their eyes, as if staring at the dream they had once pursued but never grasped.

Some even dropped to their knees, beginning to pray.

“People of Cinnamon! And adventurers who have raised your swords to protect it!”

The boy had ascended so high that he seemed to touch the clouds.

Yet, though he should have been too far to hear, his voice—amplified by magic—reached them all.

“I am Bruno, a First-Class Adventurer sent here by royal decree! By order of Margrave Endlord, I will exterminate the monsters!”

(Bruno? …I’ve never heard of him.)

Rampard had memorized the names of every First-Class Adventurer—those he one day sought to surpass.

At least in the roster he had committed to memory, there was no one named Bruno. Yet, no doubt arose in his mind.

For an adventurer, strength is everything.

With power like his, it wouldn’t be surprising if he had been granted First-Class status the moment he registered.

“I—no, we!”

Rampard noticed a new presence.

Before he realized it, others had appeared around Bruno in the sky above.

Where had they come from? How had they arrived? When had they appeared?

No one even thought to ask.

They had already been numbed by one miracle after another.

Standing there were five women.

A woman clad in an elegant blue-and-white nun’s habit.

A woman wrapped in ominous black armor.

A gaunt woman with the bearing of a seasoned adventurer.

A mysterious beauty, wearing armor that shimmered softly in seven colors.

And finally, a woman in a robe so large it dwarfed her own frame, exuding the presence of a mage.

Each one of them possessed an almost terrifying beauty.

But just like the boy and the turtle, underestimating them would be dangerous.

Even the most beautiful rose has thorns.

And above all, these women stood beside that boy—Bruno.

“We are the First-Class party, the Saviors!”

“Everyone, let’s work together to defeat the monsters! From this very moment—our counterattack begins!”

Bruno clenched his fist and raised it high.

Those who had just been saved from certain doom—those who had watched his battle up close—began, one by one, to raise their hands as well.

And then, as one, they shouted Bruno’s name and the name of the Saviors.

The fervor spread like wildfire.

The knights, who had been on standby for an emergency, clapped their hands.

The commoners, who had been holding their breath as they watched from the city, cried out.

This was, without a doubt, the birth of a new hero.

Those who had witnessed the legend screamed until their voices were hoarse.

Their shouts, a mix of rage, fear, and exultation, shook the earth, their excitement rising into pure fervor.

And at the center of it all, the very cause of this fervor—Bruno—scratched his head in embarrassment.

Fortunately, in the heat of the moment, no one noticed.

The only one who saw the slight blush on his cheek was Ivy, watching from nearby…