Souta slammed the spoon on the table like a judge’s gavel.

  — *I declare open the official interview to form my group.*

  Meliora sighed, crossing her arms.

  — *This is ridiculous. We already have a group.*

  — *I agree,* muttered Pikonota. *Lord Spoon, why do we need more people?*

  Souta raised his chin with almost theatrical disdain.

  — *A group? We’re just a duo. Pikonota is nothing but a perverted stalker who keeps following us.*

  Meliora stuttered, speechless.

  Pikonota kept a serious look for a moment… then melted into a silly smile, not contradicting him.

  Meliora shot her a look of pure contempt.

  — *You really don’t help, do you.*

  Souta folded his arms.

  — *I will be king of the world. I need loyal subjects. The group I’ll create will be formed by people who will hold great positions in my reign.*

  He looked directly at Meliora.

  — *Especially you. The whole world will kneel before your presence. Comprendes?*

  Meliora blushed, averting her gaze. Her voice simply wouldn’t come out.

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  Souta smirked, provocative.

  — *Why are you blushing, Meliora? I might end up thinking I did something obscene…*

  He leaned back, satisfied.

  — *I love being right.*

  The news spread quickly: the **Harlequin of Fear** was recruiting.

  A hundred warriors presented themselves, bringing titles, feats, and legendary weapons.

  Souta, however, rejected them all with a yawn.

  — *Boring. Weak. Tasteless. Next.*

  Meliora rested her face on her hand, bored.

  — *Aren’t you being too picky? People with renown and titles came here…*

  — *Can you shut up, Meliora?* Souta shot back, dry.

  She lifted her head, firm.

  — *You may understand laws and how to command a kingdom. But I understand people. Compatibility.*

  Her voice trembled, but it was resolute.

  Souta rubbed his head, sighing.

  — *Sorry… I accidentally used my protective smile.*

  Pikonota burst out laughing.

  The doors opened.

  A young boy entered, small, thin, carrying a rune hammer bigger than himself.

  He still wore a leather mask.

  No mana in his body. No aura. Only silence.

  Meliora frowned.

  Pikonota whispered:

  — *Lord Spoon… he’ll break with the first punch.*

  Souta stared at him.

  — *Ah, you… the brat who created that trouble elemental. I thought you had run away. What’s your name again?*

  The boy straightened up.

  — *Thirga Sparkthane. I want to join your group.*

  Meliora and Pikonota widened their eyes.

  — *What?!* they shouted in unison.

  Souta narrowed his gaze.

  — *You tried to kill us and now want to be my ally? Tell me…*

  — *Got mana?*

  — *None.*

  — *Magic?*

  — *Zero.*

  — *Then why should I accept you?*

  Thirga pulled out a dagger and threw it on the table.

  The blade pulsed with living runes, as if breathing.

  — *Because this weapon was made by me.*

  He raised his eyes.

  — *And it cuts even pride.*

  Souta smiled, intrigued.

  — *A blacksmith alchemist… now that’s interesting.*

  He raised the spoon like a scepter.

  — *Welcome to the group. If the world rejects the mana?less… then we’ll rebuild it with iron and rancor.*

  Two new names were added to the legend:

  - **Pikonota Pragma, the Pragmatic Blizzard.**

  - **Thirga Sparkthane, the Mana?less Blacksmith.**

  And Souta, satisfied, already saw before him not just a group… but the first pillars of his future reign.