It was the quiet hour before dawn.
A shrine stood atop the mountain located to the northeast of Village Five. Large crowds had gathered on both sides of the path stretching out from the shrine's closed main gate.
I was one of them—a beastman living in the village.
I used to be an adventurer before I moved to Village Five, but these days I work as an official guide. Don't get the wrong idea; it’s not some shady racket. I’m a legitimate businessman, fully licensed by the Village Council.
My job mostly involves showing the ropes to newcomers or merchants who aren't familiar with the area. More often than not, I’m leading tours through Ramen Street or the Underground Shopping Street. It’s harder than it sounds; there is a lot to explain, and I have to keep a close eye on my clients to make sure they don't stir up any trouble.
My biggest headache lately is how everyone wants to meet Five-kun. He’s so popular that he’s always being called here and there across the village. Even for a resident, pinning him down is nearly impossible—believe me, I’ve tried. But if a client pays me to find him, I have to give it a shot. It’s exhausting. On the bright side, sometimes I get lucky and score a handshake myself. It’s a nice little perk of the job.
I wasn't standing out here before dawn for work, though. This was personal. Actually, it wasn't just "before dawn." I had been out here since last night, and so had everyone else around me.
The cold wasn't an issue. The weather had turned mild enough, and there were relief stations set up nearby just in case anyone felt unwell. No one was worried about food or water, either. Stalls were lined up further back, practically bursting with supplies. They had price tags, sure, but the Demon Kingdom was footing the entire bill. That didn't mean you could just gorge yourself, though; do that and you'd get the evil eye from the crowd. Plus, the aftermath would be terrifying. No one was that stupid.
I could say for certain that there wasn't a single soul like that here. This was the Demon Kingdom’s Parade, after all.
Preparations for this event had been underway since mid-winter. In simple terms, it was a festival. Usually, festivals draw out the rowdy sorts who cause trouble, but we didn't have to worry about that. Any potential trouble had already been settled.
Yes, it had been dealt with five days ago, during the parade rehearsal.
Three dragons had marched in a disciplined line. They were part of the Post-Age of Gods Dragon Race, apparently. It isn’t exactly public knowledge, but dragons aren’t a rare sight around Village Five. They land nearby quite often—sometimes right in the middle of town. We’ve all come to a tacit understanding: as long as you don’t poke the bear, they won’t hurt you.
They were an imposing sight, but seeing them march so orderly kept the fear at bay. The fact that Lady Yoko was standing atop the lead dragon’s head helped a lot, too.
The dragons weren't the problem. The problem was the massive, three-meter-tall wolves walking just behind them. Inferno Wolves, they called them.
I’d heard that a single one of those things could level a city. I couldn’t wrap my head around a dragon's power, but I could envision theirs. I don't know why, but the danger felt visceral. And there were ten of them.
The crowd at the rehearsal didn't just panic—they collapsed. It was a disaster, fainted bodies everywhere. I blacked out myself and woke up on the roof of some building I didn't recognize. I was terrified. Truly, deeply terrified. That was what real, primal fear felt like. I wanted to scream, to ask who in their right mind would put such monsters in a parade.
In fact, I did scream it.
But I was wrong. I realized that later when I saw how dejected those wolves looked. They were huddled together with miserable expressions on their faces. They hadn't set out to terrify us; they were simply practicing for the march. They had just been walking in a line. Even though they hadn't even growled, we’d let our own terror turn into resentment.
I felt ashamed of myself. I’d wanted to exclude them just because they were scary, but they were our comrades. They were here to make the parade a success, just like us.
Everyone here today felt the same way. We had made up our minds.
As a side note, by order of Lady Yoko, anyone with heart conditions, the sick, or pregnant women were strictly forbidden from watching—even during the rehearsal. It was the right call. Death doesn't suit a parade.
As I was lost in these thoughts, a low, resonant chime echoed through the air. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, but then it came again, clear and unmistakable. A bell was ringing across the night sky.
The crowd started to stir, then fell into a hushed silence. We knew it was time.
Something was flying through the darkness, ringing that bell. It was a giant, flaming bird. It was the bird of legend—a phoenix.
The phoenix carried a massive bell in its talons, and it was heading straight for us... no, straight for the shrine's main gate. For a second, it looked like it would crash, but the phoenix came to a dead stop in mid-air, its wings beating a powerful rhythm as it ascended into the clouds.
As we watched it soar, the first light of dawn broke over the horizon. Then, with a heavy, grinding groan, the shrine's main gate slowly swung open.
The parade had begun.