Guard Fito stepped forward with long strides and took the golden medal from the Seer’s hand.

“I knew I could count on you, kid.” Orek’s face softened into a look of relief. “Ever since we swapped identities to trick the werewolves last time, I knew you had potential! You’ve grown faster than I ever expected.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Boss!” Fito’s voice trembled with excitement.

“Actually, there was controversy in the Royal Council over your promotion to Golden-tier divine being. The Minister of War, Minister of Finance, and Minister of Justice all objected.” A sharp, high-pitched voice cut through the celebration, dousing Fito’s joy like cold water.

The speaker was a half-human—slender, with narrow eyes and a frame barely half the height of an average man. He wore a full suit of golden armor that looked comically oversized on his tiny body. Who is that short guy? Shana had noticed him the moment he walked in. The witch found it absurd to see such a small figure drowning in golden plate; he looked just like a wooden puppet from the South Island’s puppet shows! But she knew anyone standing beside the Great Wall’s Commander-in-Chief and sitting next to the Seer must hold an important position.

“Rat Knight, tell them the details.” Orek said.

So that’s who he is! Shana suddenly remembered a bard’s ballad: The Rat Knight stalks the night, wind whispers, petals fall, enemies’ heads roll before they call… Could this tiny half-human really be the legendary Rat Knight? She could barely believe her eyes. The Rat Knight was a hero in every bard’s tale—yet here he was, so small and unassuming. Meeting him in person was a letdown; even standing up, he only reached Orek’s shoulder.

The Rat Knight squeaked: “The final batch of assessments took so long ‘cause the Royal Council had disputes, eh? The three opposing ministers said Fito’s demon-hunting merits weren’t enough—promoting him to Golden-tier might not convince the troops, eh?”

Orek said: “The capital’s evaluation system needs to change. I’ve repeated this a hundred times: the Guard’s role is unique. We can’t only count werewolf kills; we also have to consider how many peaceful nights they’ve secured by protecting allies.”

“Right! The other three council members—the Prime Minister, Grand Scholar, and Queen’s Captain of the Guard—all supported your opinion, eh?”

Orek sighed: “Three to three tie. I guess the Queen made the final call?”

“Actually, it was the Archbishop. He backed your side.”

“Archbishop!” Orek’s eyes widened in surprise. “He attended the Royal Council?”

“He just happened to sit in, but all the council members respect his opinion a great deal, eh?”

“Good.” Orek nodded, turning back to Fito. “You heard that, Fito. Your promotion was controversial. You have the Archbishop to thank—and you need to prove yourself, don’t let him down.”

Fito bowed deeply: “Thank you, Archbishop! Thank you, Boss! I know some people aren’t happy about this, but I’ll prove myself with action. I’ll keep guarding the Great Wall!”

“We’re counting on you to keep our nights peaceful.” Orek clapped him on the shoulder.

When Fito returned to his seat, Shana immediately asked to see the medal. The guard handed it over generously. Shana examined the Golden Divine Being Medal closely: it was shaped like a pentagram, each edge meticulously carved, with a brilliant orange gemstone set in its center. One day, I’ll become a Golden Mage and earn one of these! The witch vowed silently to herself.

“Now, moving on to the next matter—”

“Commander-in-Chief!” Someone cut Orek off. “Is that all for the promotion list?”

Him again? Shana’s attention was drawn to the tall knight.

“Yes. Fito is the only one promoted in this final batch.”

“So I’ll never get my turn?” The tall knight’s voice was louder than Orek’s.

Orek rubbed his nose: “Basru, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I want to know why I didn’t get promoted to Golden-tier after all the blood I spilled in the Wolf Fort Battle!” The massive silver-armored knight stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor.

“No reason—it’s the Royal Council’s decision.” Orek said flatly.

“What about Fito? Why does he get it? There’s a conspiracy here!”

“Basru, calm down. The council reviewed your merits too—they think you need more experience.” The Rat Knight jumped onto his chair, squeaking at the top of his lungs. The contrast between his tiny frame and Basru’s hulking build was stark: one was as small as a mouse, the other as strong as an ox.

“Those old fools are blind! I killed thirteen werewolves in the Wolf Fort Battle—only Peter and Shu killed more! Did they even look at my record? How many wolves did Fito kill, anyway?” Basru roared, his voice so loud some people covered their ears.

Shana glanced at Fito, thinking: This is all about you. The guard’s face was tight, his jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check.

“I’ll say it again: Guards and knights are both warriors, but the Guard’s role is special. We can’t only judge by demon-hunting kills.” Orek frowned. “Are you not listening to me?”

“It’s all excuses! You just like him ‘cause he kisses your ass!” Basru slammed his fist on the table, making the silverware rattle.

Orek was the Commander-in-Chief of the Great Wall—and Basru was daring to pound the table at him! Everyone in the room was stunned. Doesn’t he remember what happened last time someone defied Orek? Shana thought. She’d heard the last person who challenged Orek ended up as a corpse in the frost…

“Basru! What do you think you’re doing?” Fito stood up, finally losing his patience. It’s your turn to be impulsive now!

“It’s been too long since we fought! My fists are itching to throw a punch!” Basru cracked his knuckles, his knuckles turning white.

“You’re strong, but you’re slow—you’ll be the one getting beaten.” Fito rolled his shoulders, readying himself.

Shana, who never missed a good fight, had a glint of excitement in her eyes: Looks like there’s gonna be a brawl here today! Go Brother Fito! I’ll help you if it comes to blows!

“Basru! Do you want to be thrown into the black dungeon?”

Just as the tension reached a boiling point, Orek roared. The entire room fell silent instantly. Everyone’s faces went pale, as if covered in invisible frost, their expressions stiff and eyes filled with unease. Shana was shocked—this was the first time she’d seen Orek lose his temper.

Basru froze, his chest heaving with rage, but he said nothing. His fierce gaze remained locked on Fito, though.

A heavy silence hung over the war chamber. After a moment, Knight Ray stood up to break it.

“Basru, we’re both knights—I understand how you feel. But you can’t rush this. For the honor of the knights, calm down first. We’ll talk later.”

“To hell with honor!” Basru shoved his chair back with a sharp crash, then stormed out of the war chamber, his boots thudding loudly against the stone floor.