The road stretched ahead under a warm sky, and for once, there were no demons, curses, or exploding chickens.
Just quiet footsteps, creaking gear, and the occasional sound of Dusty snoring in Bob's pack.
"I've been thinking," the doll said from his usual perch on Bob's shoulder.
"Uh-oh," Bam muttered. "Here comes a lecture."
"No, no," the doll replied. "Just curious. Who do you think is the strongest among you?"
The group exchanged glances.
No one answered.
So the doll continued.
"I'd say it's Derek."
Derek blinked. "Huh?"
"Your sword," the doll said. "Excalibur is the deciding factor. Even if you're not the most skilled, that sword boosts your power significantly. And your willpower is… unusually sharp."
Bam crossed his arms. "So what about me?"
"You're second," the doll said. "Fire magic, refined control, raw talent. But you're inconsistent."
Bam smirked. "That's fair."
Bob puffed up his chest. "What about me? I've got a Sin inside me! That has to count for something!"
"You're third," the doll said, unfazed. "Because your power isn't stable yet. It's like swinging a warhammer made of pudding. Occasionally terrifying. Mostly messy."
Bob grumbled, "At least I don't melt when it rains, you creepy puppet."
"Fourth," the doll went on, "is Kain."
Kain raised a brow. "I'm not even officially part of the group."
Bob waved him off. "Too bad. You are now. Welcome to group. Temporary employee, no benefits."
Kain sighed. "I want off this contract."
"Denied," Bob said.
The doll smirked and turned to Marcus. "Which makes you… last."
Marcus stopped walking. "Excuse me?"
"You're brilliant," the doll said. "But right now, if a demon ran at us, your contribution would be a confused glare and a bolt with a 'bang' sticker on it."
Marcus muttered, "My next invention is going to be a puppet-shredder."
Derek stayed quiet for a while.
Then said softly, "I'm not the strongest."
Everyone looked at him.
He didn't elaborate.
Bob nodded. "There's still Jim."
"Ah, yes," the doll said. "The martial artist. I haven't seen him yet. So I can't rank him."
"Jim's like… weird strong," Bam added. "Not magical. Just… punches like a drunk god."
Bob looked down the road, almost nostalgic. "Wonder how he's doing."
By late afternoon, the familiar gates of Border Town came into view.
Battered but still standing.
And for now, still home.
Dusty let out a lazy meow from the pack.