Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

The girl's voice cut through the silence, straight at the most crucial part, "What Rank are you?"

Sezel's heart skipped a beat, 'Rank?' His mind raced. He needed a believable lie, to claim too high a rank would invite suspicion—a simple rank that wouldn't make them suspicious but would be high enough to justify him still being alive. Rank 3 was the perfect fit. Not strong enough to be a threat, not weak enough to be useless.

He would be able to explain his Fable without any questions. He lowered his gaze, a carefully orchestrated gesture of humility, "I am a Rank 3," he replied.

A quiet sigh of relief passed between the two Slayers. The rigid, defensive posture they had maintained began to soften, her gaze locked at the ground, lost in distant thoughts. There was no more questions for now, it seemed.

"What's wrong?" Sezel asked, walking forward to pick up his katana and slide it into his belt. They didn't react, accepting him as a harmless ally, at least for now.

The boy replied, his voice thick with a sorrow that was both fresh and weary. "One of our other teammates… he died earlier. He was also a Rank 3."

Sezel's eyes narrowed, a strange curiosity flickered in his mind. He exhaled sharply before asking, "How?"

The boy looked at the girl, as if asking for permission to speak. Before she could answer, the lady's stomach grumbled, a loud, embarrassing noise in the quiet night. A faint blush crept up her face, visible under the purple glow of the Spirit essence.

Sezel stared at her for a long, silent moment. She was hungry, and so was the other guy. The internal debate was swift and brutal. Food was life in this forsaken realm, a resource more precious than bullets or blades. To share it was to share his own chances of survival.

He slowly knelt, opened his bag, and brought out two sealed cans of noodles. He placed them on the ground between them. "Here," he said. "Go on."

The girl and the boy looked at him with surprise. Of course, they didn't expect to see such kindness from a stranger in this wild, nightmarish realm. But Sezel had his own reasons for doing so, 'I am not a fool to intend to roam these lands alone. I need strong companions.'

And the opportunity had presented itself in front of him, two Slayers, experienced and strong from what they looked at least. With their member dead, Sezel wouldn't have to worry about fitting in.

They exchanged a quick, silent glance, a conversation of shared hunger and weary acceptance passing between them. Then, they sat, each picking up a can and peeling back the lid.

"So, what happened with your friend?" Sezel pressed on, perfectly using the opportunity to get information.

The boy slurped a mouthful of noodles before speaking. "We were resting near the walls of that giant castle. It provided good shade," he began, his voice hesitant. "When suddenly… a ginormous snake fell from atop that thing. He pushed us both aside and… got crushed."

Sezel heard them. Strangely, he didn't feel any empathy for the guy, 'He was a dumbass.' That's what Sezel's remarks were on the bravery of the fallen comrade.

"That wasn't the end," he continued, his voice dropping. "We tried to at least get his body out, give him a proper burial, but that's when we saw it." Sezel's attention sharpened, his eyes squinting as each word sank in. "That thing was something beyond just a monster. It was a two-hundred-meter-tall mass of rocks, all held together by some unseen force, moving like it was alive. A geological horror."

A cold shiver ran down Sezel's spine. Could it be the thing that killed the Leviathan? He didn't ask it outright, but he was curious. It all made a horrifying kind of sense.

"We ran," the boy admitted, slurping the last of his noodles. "That's all we could do against it. I don't think attacks would even work on that monster. We lost all our supplies and our precious comrade. That's why we were out here, hunting for resources."

Sezel looked at the ground, calculating all the new information. The girl, having finished her food, met his gaze with another question. "How did you get those jackets and so much food? That's probably enough for three people."

Sezel's breath hitched. He gulped, slowly looking above. How was he supposed to say that he just took them off the dead? But he did, and he said it outright. Both of them looked at him with an expression of disgust for a second, but it is what it is. It passed quickly. They too knew the futility of being here in this realm. He did it for the better—those things were of no use to the dead, but they could help the living.

"So, how did you know that I was not an enemy?" Sezel asked, curious.

The girl chuckled, "Simple," she said. "We ambushed you. In a moment of pure desperation, a person almost always defaults to their native tongue. Your cry of surprise was in our language. That told us you weren't from the enemy forces."

'Brilliant, this girl looks smart and reliable.' he thought.

"So," he proposed, letting the question hang in the air. "How about we four form a cohort?" he asked finally, a sliver of doubt still lingering in the back of his mind.

"We have no problem with that," the girl said, a flicker of relief on her own face. But a question followed. "First, tell us your side of the whole story. Then we can introduce ourselves."

Sezel's mind raced. He had constructed a name, a rank, but now he needed a history to go with them. He gazed up at the three impassive moons, drawing a deep breath and then slowly spoke, his voice heavy with a pain he did not feel. "We were forced to enter the Gate after the main expedition had already entered. We ended up being teleported to the top of that huge castle." He paused, inhaling, then continued.

"The scene above was terrifying. The trees were as huge as multi-story buildings, the grass tall enough to hide anything. That's where the Leviathan rushed to eat us. We ran from it, but it was futile. One of my companions pushed us away and got swallowed by that huge snake." His voice was grim, etched with a false sorrow.

"And then," Sezel said, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, his gaze meeting theirs, "the snake was hunted by something."