My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill-Chapter 269

"This is a momentous day!" the King proclaimed, his voice pitched to carry to every corner of the room. "With Seraphina eliminated, the demon realm loses one of its most powerful commanders. Our eastern territories will be secure. Our people can sleep safely. Trade routes can be established. This victory will be remembered for centuries!"

"About that," Pope Gregorius said, his expression shifting from theatrical joy to something more calculated and serious. "TheReaper, I know your unique power requires significant recovery time after major battles. The divine energy you channel takes time to replenish. Normally we would grant you weeks or even months to rest after such a victory, in recognition of your service and sacrifice."

"But?" TheReaper prompted, already sensing where this conversation was headed and feeling his mood sour further.

"But circumstances have forced our hand," the King said grimly, his jovial expression dropping away to reveal genuine concern. "We have just received intelligence of a new threat. One that may prove even more dangerous than Seraphina if left unchecked and allowed to continue growing."

TheReaper’s eyes sharpened slightly, genuine interest showing for the first time since entering the throne room. "More dangerous than a three-century-old demon lord who’d mastered corruption magic and mind control? That’s quite a significant claim. What kind of threat are we talking about?"

Pope Gregorius gestured toward the large ornate doors at the far end of the throne room—massive things made of reinforced oak banded with consecrated steel, carved with scenes of humanity’s greatest victories over demon-kind. "We’ve taken steps to address this new threat. Steps that involved calling upon resources we’d been saving for genuine emergencies."

The Pope made a subtle gesture with his left hand, a signal that guards stationed near the doors had been waiting for. The massive portals swung open smoothly despite their tremendous weight, pushed by servants whose timing had been rehearsed to perfection.

Four figures entered the throne room, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor in a rhythm that suggested military training overlaid on civilian movement patterns. Three young women and one young man, all appearing to be in their early twenties, walked with the uncertain grace of people still adjusting to bodies that had been fundamentally transformed by powerful summoning magic.

The young man led the group—tall and well-built with an athletic frame that suggested someone who’d been active even in his previous life. He had brown hair that caught the light, and his eyes held an intense green color that seemed almost luminescent. There was something about his bearing, his posture, the way he moved—it all screamed the protagonist in a way that TheReaper recognized instantly.

He wore simple but well-made clothing that had clearly been provided by the church’s finest tailors—practical combat gear in dark colors with reinforced sections at vital points. A sword hung at his hip, standard-issue hero equipment, but the way his hand rested near it suggested growing familiarity rather than true mastery.

Behind him came three young women, each distinctive and clearly filling archetypal roles that any summoned hero party would recognize.

The first was petite with long black hair tied in elaborate twin tails that suggested either cultural tradition or personal aesthetic choice. Her dark eyes were sharp and analytical, constantly scanning the room and cataloguing details. She wore flowing robes marked with arcane symbols that identified her as a mage, and her fingers constantly moved in small patterns as if practicing spell components even while walking. Intelligence practically radiated from her—this was someone who’d been smart before being summoned and had doubled down on that trait afterward.

The second was taller with shoulder-length blonde hair that framed a kind face. Her blue eyes held a mixture of excitement and nervousness, and her expression was open and earnest. She carried a staff marked with holy symbols—specifically the healing variants that identified her as support class rather than combat clergy. Everything about her screamed healer, from her gentle movements to the way she kept glancing at her companions as if checking their wellbeing.

The third had fiery red hair cut short in a practical style that wouldn’t interfere with combat. Her amber eyes burned with barely controlled energy and excitement, and she moved with the coiled readiness of someone athletic and aggressive. Leather armor covered her torso and vital points, leaving her limbs free for movement. A bow was strapped to her back, and the quiver at her hip held arrows that gleamed with magical enhancements. This was clearly the damage dealer, the one who turned small things into catastrophic destruction.

The young man stopped at what he’d clearly been instructed was the appropriate distance from the thrones—close enough to hear clearly, far enough to show respect—and executed a formal bow that was crisp but showed his newness to such protocols. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Your Holiness, Your Majesty," he said, his voice carrying the slight accent of someone from another world who’d been learning the local language for a few weeks. "I am Gattychan Tanaka. My companions are Seraphelle Nakamura"he gestured to the blonde healer "Mikazelle Hayashi, though she prefers Mika"the black-haired mage nodded"and Rindelle Sato, called Rin" the red-haired archer grinned.

"We are the newly summoned heroes," Gattychan continued, his voice carrying nervous pride and determination. "Brought to this world three weeks ago through the emergency summoning ritual to aid in the fight against the demon threat. We stand ready to serve and fulfill our sacred duty."

TheReaper studied them with an expression that started neutral and slowly shifted to something like weary recognition. Fresh summons. Barely trained. Probably level 25 at best, maybe 35 if they’d been power-leveled aggressively in controlled dungeon runs.

But more than that—he recognized the pattern. The protagonist who’d be absurdly overpowered through some gimmick. The support who’d provide perfect assistance. The control specialist who’d lock down any threats. The destruction dealer who’d handle anything that needed raw power.

It was like looking at a mirror of his own summoning three hundred years ago, except back then it had been him and three other heroes who hadn’t survived their first decade. The memory made something twist in his chest that he firmly pushed down.