NOVPUB
Chapter 132: The Hero Of Power
"AAAAAHHHH I REFUSE! I SHALL NOT BE CLOTHED!"
Seren’s dramatic shriek echoed through the shop like a battle cry.
A few customers turned to stare.
Zayn? He looked entirely unbothered, even bored, as he nudged the flailing girl forward with his foot.
"Stop making it sound like I’m sacrificing you to a volcano," Zayn sighed, giving her one final shove toward the changing room.
Seren, dressed in what could only be described as "Snowy Forest Orphan Chic" — a tattered bandeau top and a skirt held together with hope and venom — planted her heels like a stubborn goat.
"I like my clothes! They are breathable! Perfect for spitting acid and — !" 𝒏𝙤𝙫𝒑𝙪𝙗.𝙘𝒐𝙢
"Nope." Zayn flicked his wrist.
Golden soul energy shimmered down to his leg. "We are not keeping the acid-spitting hobo aesthetic. Not when I’m the one walking beside you."
Before she could retaliate with more hissing, he channeled just enough energy to his foot and shoved her into the changing room.
The door snapped shut behind her with an almost satisfying thunk.
Silence.
Zayn crossed his arms and waited. He was already starting to hear the dramatic breathing from behind the door.
Then came the knock.
"...Can I come out now?"
He raised a brow. "Are you wearing actual clothes or just your pride?"
She muttered something about pride being overrated.
The door creaked open — and to Zayn’s surprise, there she was, fully dressed in something vaguely respectable: a deep navy tunic that hit just above her knees, black leggings, and a modest fur-lined capelet draped over her shoulders.
Her acidic gremlin energy was still there... but it was more refined now. Bandit-core but make it fashion.
He blinked. "Huh."
"What?"
"You look... almost human now. Like you don’t sleep in trees or shank people for socks."
Seren glared. "I could still melt your kneecaps."
"Adorable." He ruffled her hair, to which she reacted with all the grace of a cat being sprayed with water.
He turned and paid at the counter, where the shopkeeper gave them both a look that screamed you people are chaos incarnate, but gladly took the coin anyway.
They exited the shop and began wandering Edgeville.
Thirty minutes passed like a blur — partly because Seren kept trying to touch things she shouldn’t (like glowing crystals and suspicious street food) and partly because Zayn had to keep redirecting her with the words "No" and "Put that down" like a tired dad.
It was somewhere between dodging a guy selling cursed rings and avoiding a poet trying to hand them a scroll of "Bleeding Desire" when Zayn spotted something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
"...What the hell?"
Across the square, nestled under the overhang of a sleek, black-paneled café called The Bitter Bean, sat his crew.
Tobias, calm as ever, glasses on, sipping tea like he wasn’t the definition of "guy who’s secretly terrifying when pushed."
Elisse was beside him, arms folded under her chest, looking like she was trying not to throw a pastry at someone.
Bran sat with his massive arms crossed, a large meat skewer in his mouth like a cigar.
And Kara — well, Kara looked half-asleep, using Bran’s shoulder as a pillow while lazily poking at a piece of cake with her fork.
Across from them? Ragnar Helstrom.
The Hero of Power. Bulky, dark haired, with muscles that had muscles.
The man looked like he did push-ups between breaths. His eyes were crimson and although it had been a while since Zayn had seen him, even from here he seemed to give off the aura that he had grown even stronger.
Beside him sat two members of his own party: a pretty boy archer who looked like he knew it, a red-haired tank woman with arms like logs, and a dainty mage sipping coffee through a straw with her pinky up.
They weren’t in the hall that day, did anything happen?
Seren leaned in. "Those guys look... strong."
"They are," Zayn said flatly, squinting. "That’s Ragnar. He bench-pressed a wyvern once for fun."
"What?!"
’I mean... he did do that in the later Chapters for fun though.’
"You heard me Seren."
"What are your friends doing with them?"
"Probably something heroic. Or awkward. Or both."
They crossed the square, Zayn casually adjusting his cloak as he approached.
"Elisse!" he called, voice bright. "Did you miss me?"
Elisse’s head whipped toward him so fast it was a miracle her neck didn’t snap. "Zayn?!"
Kara blinked awake, Bran grunted, and Tobias — Tobias just smiled softly like he’d predicted this exact moment in a vision last week.
Ragnar raised a brow. "Well, well. The infamous Zayn."
"Infamous?" Zayn asked, smirking. "Please. I prefer ’legendary,’ or ’criminally handsome.’"
’Wait... how does he even know me?’
Bran chuckled. "Took you long enough."
"You weren’t the easiest to find," Zayn replied, dropping into a chair beside Elisse. "Went through a venom girl ambush and everything."
Seren blinked, still standing awkwardly nearby. "Um..."
"Oh right." Zayn pointed at her. "This is Seren. She’s not evil. Mostly. She spits acid and yells a lot, but she gave me directions so now she’s my little sister."
"WHAT?!" Seren yelped.
Elisse giggled. "She’s kinda cute."
Tobias adjusted his glasses. "Welcome to the group... for now."
Ragnar looked Seren over. "She’s tiny."
"She’s deadly," Zayn said with a grin.
Seren looked like she didn’t know whether to melt into the floor or melt everyone else around her.
Zayn leaned back in his chair, stretching. "So. What’s the meeting about? You guys forming a hero union or plotting Ragnar’s workout routine?"
Tobias chuckled under his breath. "We were just discussing a joint expedition. There’s a soul crystal deposit further north though a Dungeon break happened."
"Dungeon break?" Zayn asked, his brows raised, tone flat like someone just told him the town ran out of bread.
Tobias nodded, his fingers still curled around a teacup. "Yes. Happened sometime last night. Bit far away from the town. That’s why the guards were so thin at the gates earlier."
"Huh." Zayn leaned back in his seat. "So that’s why Edgeville’s been feeling like a gangster town."
Kara poked at her pastry. "We stayed because they asked for help. Officially. That, and someone — " she looked at Elisse, "— wanted to wait for a certain late arrival."
Elisse smirked and made a noncommittal noise.
Zayn sighed dramatically. "Well, if a dungeon cracked open, we might as well stretch a bit before getting murdered."
As if on cue, Ragnar leaned forward, his massive arms on the table, black hair catching the light like he was about to star in an anime opening.
His eyes gleamed with childlike excitement.
"Zayn," he said, voice brimming with anticipation, "you. Me. Let’s fight."
Zayn blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Come on!" Ragnar hopped to his feet like a puppy made of bricks. "I could sense your soul energy from across the plaza. It’s wild. Unstable. Powerful. I’ve got to throw hands with you."
Zayn frowned. "Shouldn’t we conserve energy for the dungeon break?"
Ragnar clapped him on the back — hard enough to almost make him faceplant into the cobblestone. "There are potions!"
