《Vessel》


 1.

    There¡¯re dozens of prophecies regarding a heroic future. Rumors that say it will bring peace to the world, rumors that say he would bring calamity. Ask anyone off the street and they will whisper another unique legend of epic proportions.


    Of course, most of these are little more than fairy tales, or ideas of justice passed along through story from parent to child.


    But what about all the ones that are seemingly lost in translation?


    ¡®The hero¡¯s shadow, ever present, slumbers, awaiting a senile king; while reaching all corners.¡¯


    ¡®Eared persuader, bringing gifts of impending futures.¡¯


    ¡®Dark imprint on wrist to differentiate, on display without shame.¡¯


    ¡®Cold flames, the demonic watchearth beats.¡¯


    What are those words supposed to teach us about morality?


    Or is it just that? An ancient prophecy lost in translation after decades of travel. But then, if its meaning is lost why does it continue to spread so pervasively? Why would my mother be so insistent on teaching me something with no meaning?


    I really don¡¯t know, but I enjoy contemplating it. I always have.


    My brother would use this downtime to think about strategy and militaristic discipline, but I would much rather spend a day imagining the view from a bird¡¯s eye, or the desires of a plant.


    My father would say I¡¯m wasting my life, that my time could be better spent building my body or studying he and King Wolfbourne¡¯s glory days. I can¡¯t exactly argue that, but I can imagine nothing more boring than jogging through one of those puffed up recounts. I just don¡¯t think it¡¯s in my nature.


    My body isn¡¯t fit for combat, my father has probably come to terms with that. Likewise, my mind isn¡¯t fit for strategy, a numerous amount of chess bouts with my brother has solidified that fact too. I consider it a win if I can lose in less than six turns.


    But with that being the case, where is it exactly, that I belong?


    The Hyde Family, my father Lloyd, brothers Skule and Grave, our late mother Yoni, and I, Aryn. We¡¯ve lived on the border since I was a baby, a hairs distance from the battlefield the world relies on for protection. My lullaby as a child were the moans and horror of those not-so-distant blood-drenched grounds.


    That is what my family does.


    We live on the border and we fight the war. So, if I don¡¯t fit into the war, then where do I fit into the world? If I can¡¯t live like my father and Skule, controlling the battle through fist and flourish, then do I follow the path taken by Grave after mom¡¯s death?


    It feels like running away, but what is there that I can face by staying here? Time?


    Then, if I know there is nothing to face, why do I fear leaving? A loss of comfort? Losing the warmth of a home?


    As fragmented as it may be, my family does still eat dinner together, my mother¡¯s adamant request from back then, still being honored to this day, so I can¡¯t deny that there is still warmth.


    But this silence is unbearable. You never realize a person was the perfect conversational adhesive until they aren¡¯t there to lead the exchange. It¡¯s no wonder my mind wanders in these massive lapses of time.


    I can tell he has something to say.


    We both can. Me and Skule don¡¯t exactly get along on most aspects but we share the rare ability to see through my father¡¯s ¡®war-face¡¯. It¡¯s one of the few things we can ever agree on.


    Prompting him directly will only put him on the defensive. I¡¯d like to leave the strategy to Skule but he has about as much conversational talent as I with a dagger.


    Our mother would have no trouble getting it out of him. Best I can do is attempt to mirror one of her old methods. I know that if I leave it to Skule he will probably come across the same tactic, but he will no doubt flub the delivery, so I¡¯ll handle this one.


    Purposefully clinking the plate with my knife to cut the tension I glance up from the shimmering layer of sauce covering the blackened cut of steak. ¡°So anything interesting going on this week?¡±


    The question was directed at the both of them, but Skule was wise enough to detect my intention and stays quiet while shooting a curious peek towards our father.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Hm,¡± He murmurs thoughtlessly after glancing in our direction with an imperceptible break in his mask. I¡¯m sure Skule noticed it too but we both quietly waited for him to continue. A long moment passes as he begins cutting the steak once again. ¡°That¡¯s right, I got a letter from one of Leo¡¯s people this morning when the fourteenth fleet passed through. It shouldn¡¯t come as too big a surprise though.¡±


    Bingo.


    Hook. Line. Sinker.


    A silent nod between brothers as dad continues his explanation.


    ¡°Do you remember when that group of Royal Institute researchers came and conducted Mana audit¡¯s on the rooks and townsfolk?¡±


    It¡¯s hard to forget. It¡¯s one thing for a battalion of soldiers to march through town, that¡¯s almost a weekly occurrence, but civilians from the capital coming all the way here? It¡¯s basically as far from standard as possible.


    Both Skule and I were audited. It was a painless test. Hold a small stone for half a minute then replace it onto a podium for someone to collect. With the sheer number of observers present I was sure it would be a much more intrusive process.


    I don¡¯t remember anything particularly interesting happening at the time, so why is dad bringing it up now?


    Again, all eyes were on my father. In the old days, our mother would have said something to give him some time to prepare his follow up, but both Skule and I were too intrigued at this point to offer a hand.


    ¡°Simple follow-ups in the capital¡­¡± He mutters through a bite with a soft scowl. ¡°I figured they¡¯d wait a little while longer, but I guess the schedule is advancing.¡±


    I almost don¡¯t want to look at Skule.


    I don¡¯t want to see his smug, ¡®I am better than you¡¯ face.


    It doesn¡¯t really surprise me though, he excels at everything else so why wouldn¡¯t he have a large mana pool? It only makes sense.


    Did I win any spaces in genetics bingo?


    My mother¡¯s green eyes?


    Meh.


    Probably noticing my lapse in attention, father waves a thick hand in front of my face.


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about you.¡±


    Peering around the quiet table after his words, I realize the eyes are indeed directed towards me.


    ¡°A¡­? Oh¡­ I think I get it.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    So, this is how a black sheep is ejected from the herd. Through pretext.


    My bag was packed by the time the first crow sang. Now I just await a shepherd to lead this korban to the knife.


    Meaningless dark metaphor aside, breakfast was quiet. That alone was not exactly unusual, but both Skule and Dad taking off the morning shift was. I suppose they want to make sure I properly leave? Hate to have me idle too long; or come back because I forgot something. Not that I have much luggage to forget.


    A few ¡®loses¡¯ worth of time later, the sound of an approaching carriage broke the monotony.


    The arrival was an unexpected one, despite our patient waiting.


    I should have wondered why I didn¡¯t just hitch a ride with the morning shift peddlers.


    ¡°How was the trip Grave?¡± Skule quickly perks up, bouncing towards the opening door.


    Am I the only one that was unaware he was coming? I suppose it makes sense seeing that he lives in the capital, but if the letter just arrived, then when did he leave from the capital? It¡¯s at least a day¡¯s ride in a carriage.


    With the brothers quickly returning to chum mode, and the fool¡¯s mate being cleared off the board, I once again question the sheer coincidence of it all.


    I was chosen for additional magic testing by the court? Conveniently around spring when the youth training drills are supposed to take place? How can this be anything but an excuse to shoo me away from the border, to force me someplace where I will do less damage to the Hyde name. Honestly, I would do the same thing if I were my father, so how can I see it as anything less?


    My mother used to tell me I was special. That I was meant for more. But, she was stroking my ego, that¡¯s all. I¡¯m not a chosen one. I¡¯m not humanities hope. I¡¯m a nobody, like everyone else.


    ¡®But there¡¯s nothing wrong with that. What¡¯s better than an underdog story. I must work hard. What ever this ¡®testing¡¯ leads me to, I just have to be the best at that.¡¯


    That¡¯s what my mom would have said.


    And her ghost is right. But it still feels shitty to be pushed away so obviously.


    Their game finished, and attention again began turning to me without my knowledge, it was finally time apparently.


    It was a more depressing farewell than I expected out of those two. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen tears in my fathers¡¯ eyes before, and I was there when my mother¡¯s death knell rang out. I can still feel that mana chilling my bones. Living beside a warzone is nothing compared to that. No child should feel the mana that sustained them, snuffed out like a candle.


    Even Skule was surprising in his adieu, an embrace. Other than grappling, have I ever even hugged him before? Maybe as a child, but not in my adult life by any means.


    It¡¯s strange.


    Quit it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let anyone give you crap.¡± Skule explains with a heavy sniffle. ¡°You¡¯re too accepting, don¡¯t let anyone treat you like a door mat.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I nod with a grin. ¡°That¡¯d be your job.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see his expression through the noogie, but I like to think he chuckled at least.


    Before I realized it I was aboard the carriage with the blurry scenery of my long time home slowly passing into the distance.


    I can¡¯t recall an exact moment when the tears began to fall, nor do I remember when they stopped. But somewhere in between, I faintly remember hearing a song my mom used to hum while cooking.


    ¨„???


    Becoming a hero was never a dream for me.


    Maybe because I rarely listened to those types of stories during my childhood. Justice didn¡¯t register in my mind back then because it presupposes evil, and I just couldn¡¯t comprehend that.


    So, if it wasn¡¯t the justice, or protecting my home, then why do I fight? Why do I call myself a hero after all these years?


    To be honest, the reason would probably be considered a bit childish.


    ¨„???

 2.

    The royal castle in daylight is, in a word, extravagant. Gothic ghouls which scared me incontinent as a child, now look almost comical with their faces illuminated, but they are no less impressive in their detail.


    I always marveled at the size of the house I grew up in. I can¡¯t even begin to imagine living here. It¡¯s more mausoleum than mansion. More museum than manor.


    Could you even walk to breakfast without risking one of the priceless arts lining the hall? Better yet, how does one eat with silverware worth more than a common farmers home?


    In hindsight asking a princess questions like that, probably wasn¡¯t wise. But I was a child. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve been forgiven for at least half of my past actions.


    Still, the stares from these guards hulking around the gate indicate a certain disdain. Why did Grave need to rush to work so quickly? I understand he took time off to bring me here but¡­


    I got nothing. I¡¯m headed down the path Skule advised me to avoid. I won¡¯t be anyone¡¯s stepping stone.


    Stepping up with a face of determination I approach the death wielding gatekeepers.


    ¡°Ah, Aryn Hyde?¡± A meek voice queries mirroring my approach from the opposite side. ¡°Right on time. Come this way.¡±


    Thank god.


    I think I was about to collapse under those averted glares.


    The man who met me at the gate appears to be dressed similarly to the researchers who conducted the audit last year.


    As if reading my mind, the man pushes his glasses up his nose before grinning. ¡°I was actually with the outfit who audited your father¡¯s frontier towns. We had a huge back-log so it took a bit to analyze each stone but once we got to you, you became the talk of the camp.¡±


    These words honestly shock me. Until he quickly adds a quick caveat.


    ¡°Although we only handled the frontier. I¡¯ve heard a bunch of possible candidates like you were found. It should be fascinating. Your generation is blessed with impressive mana pools. Truly a stunning phenomenon. Even your brother had a substantial pool, if not for his milit¡­¡± Realizing he was rattling on pointlessly, the man coughs into his hand with blushed cheeks. ¡°Sorry about that, I suppose I am being rude. My name is Lector Baines. My father is a knight, he served with your dad for a couple of years before I was born. I¡¯m good friends with Grave so I feel like I already know your family.¡±


    ¡°Oh? He talks about us much?¡± I ask with a reasonable level of skepticism barely hidden in my voice.


    ¡°Oh yeah, when I drunkenly revealed to him that your name came up during the nominations he was psyched.¡±


    ¡°Nomination?¡± I pick out from his words like a thief. Of course, the rest of the contents were alarming too, but right now my inquisitiveness was more homed in on the reason for me being summoned here.


    The man quickly clams up at my question. It seems he was unaware he let the words slip. Clearly this man shouldn¡¯t be left with any secrets of real importance.


    This is seeming increasingly real as time goes by. I feel like any minute now I am going to be told I¡¯m the chosen hero or something.


    Yeah, I bet everyone would love to see that. The hero who can¡¯t lift a quarter length sword. Fat chance.


    ¡°Everyone else is this way. I think His Majesty and Her Highness will be there soon. Let¡¯s hurry.¡±


    If not for the bird twittering away in a nearby branch, I bet my gulp would¡¯ve been audible.


    Thank god.


    Not that my problem has really been solved.


    Maybe they won¡¯t remember me.


    Lector, noticing my twisting face began to speak before thinking better of it. ¡°¡­¡±


    I appreciate the effort.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Finally leading me between two tall rows of palisades toward a courtyard neighboring the ballroom, we seem to reach our destination. The last half of the walk became somewhat insufferable. There¡¯s only so much silence a man can take. I thought my family was bad.


    The courtyard seems to be set up as a makeshift assembly pavilion. A short stage is erected in the back corner, decorated with various red and black fabrics, conveniently the two buildings hugging the stage cast a refreshing shadow over the warming grounds of the courtyard. Two doors sat heavily guarded a handful of paces behind the stage, the rug, and countless eyes focusing on the point, tells me that the King will probably make his entrance from there.


    ¡°Go blend in. I¡¯m outta here.¡± Lector whispers shoving me forcibly towards the crowd of other candidates.


    Before I could even look back for him all the eyes had shifted to me. I must have scuffed my shoe on a blade of grass, interrupting their collective concentrations on this fascinating door.


    Back-bone. Back-bone.


    Taking a deep breath, I glance around the crowd of eyes. A variety of colors no doubt. No green though. That¡¯s one point for me.


    In fact, I actually recognize a few people here. ¡®Lil¡¯ Kosgroph¡¯, and Skule¡¯s friend Lirit¡¯s little brother, Wilt Gentry too.


    I think I last saw them when I was twelve and the whole family caravanned to the capital to celebrate the new year. I never got along with them on an intellectual level. Kosgroph was lady crazy, he flipped basically every skirt that wasn¡¯t nailed down, or royal. And Wilt is just¡­ it¡¯s like talking to a plant. Which is to say, not unpleasant, but you don¡¯t really get much out of it.


    Come to think of it, I don¡¯t even remember ¡®Kosgroph¡¯s¡¯ first name. I only know him by my brother and Lirit¡¯s nickname. Does that make me a bad friend? Or can I consider it normal, since I don¡¯t consider them my friends.


    I suppose in this situation they are enemies to be beaten. So maybe I have an unconscious advantage.


    Whatever.


    The rest of the group look like run-of-the-mill nobles and whatnot. Somehow, I feel like I am the worst dressed though. Don¡¯t mind it.


    Thinking about it, I believe my family was the only one represented here that was invited to the royal funeral. So that might indicate something. Although it was so many years ago I can¡¯t imagine it matters, and it¡¯s not as if I remember it crystal clear either. But I do remember that us two were the only kids our age.


    That¡¯s probably why we became close back then.


    I shouldn¡¯t think about that right now. These spotlights are still watching me, waiting for something. I won¡¯t satisfy them though. And I honestly don¡¯t know what they expect from me.


    I guess I am being rude though.


    ¡°Hey Wilt.¡±


    ¡°Aryn.¡± Wilt nods with his usual monotony.


    See, can¡¯t get anything out of him.


    ¡°Y¡­¡± Lil¡¯ Kosgroph begins to chirp before the bellowing of trumpets interrupts his word.


    It¡¯s impossible to not assume a respectful position when you spot the king in full regalia. And not because of some domineering tyranny he commands, but from his sheer stature alone. The man is a head and half above even the guards who tower above us youngsters. Even the tallest of us, Wilt can¡¯t help but awkwardly peer up at the boulder of a man. I also notice the tan commoner who¡¯d unconsciously been flexing since long before I arrived has finally untensed in sheer shock.


    Seeing the man for the first time can do that to you.


    ¡®A king is supposed to wear purple¡¯, lost tradition¡¯s say. But our king, who thinks purple doesn¡¯t match a warrior, is rarely seen in anything that is not either black, or blood red. Warriors colors he calls them. I¡¯ve even heard he thinks it shames his previous foes to wear something purple.


    I can¡¯t imagine why that matters, all things considered, but that¡¯s why he¡¯s a king and I¡¯m¡­ not.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to welcome you here for the coming days.¡±


    Days, huh. What about after?


    Not minding my failed telepathic questions, the king continues. ¡°Although even I cannot reveal certain details about the role we are hoping to fill, I hope you will still do your best in these simple trials. Your country, and I are cheering you on.¡±


    Stepping to the side and pointing a hand toward the shadow beside him he grows a proud smile. ¡°Now, finally a few words from our Princess, to the candidates.¡±


    Do I say she hasn¡¯t changed? That wouldn¡¯t be accurate. It¡¯s clearly apparent these past four years were kind to her. But I¡¯ve always considered her the most beautiful person in the world, so in a way, she really hasn¡¯t changed a bit.


    Is my mouth agape? It¡¯s not, good.


    Another point for me. Suck it losers. That¡¯s a hat-trick.


    ¡°Welcome everyone. It¡¯s a pleasure to host you all. I know you will try your best on these trials, but remember not push yourself to hard. It¡¯s important to not overexert yourself.¡± Glancing across the group of boys her vision eventually lands on me. Her flawless smile broke for a mere second to reveal something else, but it instantaneously reverted back to its heavenly resting state.


    For a moment it seemed like she would end the speech there, but I felt like something was missing. Would she not say it this time? I don¡¯t know why I am expecting it after so many years, but it would feel odd if she doesn¡¯t. ¡°Ah¡­ Before I forget. Please, don¡¯t hesitate to just call me Princess Lotil, the stuffy stylistic greetings will get old really quickly if we are going to be staying together these next few days.¡±


    There it is.


    ¡°And call him King Wolfbourne. It will be much easier than ¡®His Highness this, His Shining Eminence that¡¯. Or you could try ¡®King Wolf¡¯ but that probably won¡¯t fly anymore.¡±


    With those final words, a chuckle, and a wink towards the ¡®crowd¡¯, the two busy royals stepped from the stage and were ushered back through the doorway they entered from.


    Without a moments hesitation another person stepped onto the stage. The other candidates quietly began listening to the bearded man¡¯s explanation of the first trial, but my brain was tied into too many knots to even begin to pay attention.


    It seems she hasn¡¯t forgotten anything.

 3.

    ¡°Dummies.¡± A small boy mutters, kicking an obsidian rose petal which fluttered around the rich embroidered carpet of the wide hallway.


    The issue at hand for the child is the stupidity of his two elder brothers. Both of whom are, according to him, ¡®butt-heads¡¯. Perhaps it was the candied cherry they stuck in his hair that broke the camel¡¯s back. Or, maybe it was the song they wrote about him on the trip here. Although the boy had to admit the second verse was fairly catchy. If it were about anything else but himself, Aryn would have enjoyed singing it with them. Nonetheless here we are with the youngest of the Hyde family doing what he seemingly does best at this age. Vanishing.


    And in his opinion the best way to do that is to act like you know where you are going. If you must pick up a tray of food and pretend to be a kitchen-porter to walk past a well-placed maid, then pick up that tray and start shuffling.


    And really, who questions young nobility anyways.


    Too entitled.


    Too unhinged.


    Too much trouble. Even if the maids realized the falsehoods, they¡¯d never risk making a fuss.


    Safely escaping the maids view, Aryn removes the table cloth from beneath his suit jacket and begins to put down the empty tray at a random door.


    But it wasn¡¯t just any random door.


    Was it?


    No.


    So, lets continue.


    The door quickly swung open. Aryn hadn¡¯t anticipated any occupants, especially none who would notice his presence. He had lost his defenses instantly in more ways than one.


    The child behind the door, continuing to stare at the bizarre boy delivering an empty tray to her bedroom door, eventually begins to smile after a long moment.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think my midnight snaking had gotten so bad that we would be reduced to serving merely scraps for lunch.¡± The girl ponders aloud while glancing at the gnawed-on bone. ¡°But I like chicken so I don¡¯t particularly mind. And I get it delivered to my door no less! That¡¯s good service.¡±


    Again the girl breaks into a wide grin as if suppressing a laugh that had been long withheld.


    Aryn was still having trouble understanding the situation so he picked up on the first thing that came to mind. ¡°Who are you? Is this your room? Then, you live here?¡±


    The girl nodding in confusion begins to respond before another barrage of questions comes flying her direction.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it scary though? I saw demons on the roof when we first got here. And look at that,¡± Throwing a finger towards one of the various sculptures of colored glass lining the hallway Aryn grows a hardened expression. ¡°What if¡­ you broke it while running around?¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t they just get another¡­ But, did I break something?¡± The girl asks tilting her head in confusion with tears brimming near her eyes.


    ¡°No¡­ nothing, nothing. It was a hipoethical¡­ Hypoth¡­ Um¡­¡± Aryn, flustered glances around for another escape route in the tear-causing line of questioning. ¡°Look at this!¡±


    Plucking this mysterious utensil from his pocket he directs the girls undivided attention towards her own shimmering reflection.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering for a while now, why¡¯s it so shiny? Spoons at home are grey¡­ How¡¯d you get them to look like this?¡±


    The princess, peering at the object casually tosses back a reply with a smile. ¡°Someone said that it¡¯s called ¡®white¡¯ gold. Someone gave them to us I think.¡±


    ¡°White¡­ Wooah. Like those coins?¡±


    ¡°Coins?¡± She asks, honestly surprised by the response. She had been excited to teach this new friend something but instantly she had been stumped instead.


    ¡°Yeah! Above gold is the ¡®white¡¯ gold coin. Its worth like a hundred million gold coins!¡±


    ¡°Is that a lot?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so much! Like, you could buy a whole house! Maybe even two!¡±


    ¡°They must be big coins then¡­¡±


    ¡°No¡­ they¡­ aren¡¯t too big. My mom said they are rare though.¡± Aryn responds recalling the coin and the explanation his mom had given while she was teaching him money maths. ¡°Hey¡­ You eat with something super rare! That¡¯s so cool! Maybe¡­ Wait why are you crying?¡±


    ¡°I¡­  sorry¡­¡± The girl whimpers through sobs and a huff. ¡°My mom, she ¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on!¡± Without waiting a moment for the girl to catch her breath Aryn grips her balled fist and pulls her out of the doorway into the hallway.


    Again watching his flanks carefully Aryn leads the princess away from the royal quarters careful to avoid the occasional guard or more dangerously, the maids and butlers.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± The girl asks through a sniffle while wiping her nose with a cuff.


    ¡°On an adventure!¡± Aryn exclaims after glancing around to assure that the coast was clear. ¡°I wanted to cry earlier, so I decided to go on an adventure instead! That¡¯s how I met you! It always works I promise!¡±


    ¡°Adventure¡­¡± The girl mutters, now rubbing her eyes carefully with the same frilled black wrist-strap.


    ¡°Yeah! Dad says men don¡¯t cry. And then another time he told me that men go on adventures and explore! Also, my mom told me that crying just makes the people you care about sad, ¡®somehow¡¯, so it¡¯s not good. With all that in mind, obviously that means the only option when you are sad is adventure.¡± Aryn outlines with a brimming grin. This was one of his few ideologies that he believed in strongly. And the proof is in the pudding. From sadness to smiling in a few dozen steps. The wonders of adventuring!


    Now to bring it all home.


    ¡°So, when you feel sad. Just stand up and remind yourself. Be a man! Be strong. Crying is not allowed!¡±


    A long moment passes with the girl looking at Aryn¡¯s content grin. Eventually bursting into tears of laughter. Aryn¡¯s mom never mentioned laughing tears, those are probably fine?


    ¡°But I¡¯m a girl.¡± She eventually mutters through short chuckles. Spinning in her black dress as proof, Aryn continues looking at her in utter incomprehension.


    ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with anything? Being a man is about being brave! Being strong, being loyal, being helpful. Stiffening your lip when you face sadness. It¡¯s got nothing to do with how ya¡¯ pee.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Again an explosion of laughter comes from the princess. ¡°You said ¡®pee¡¯¡­ ¡±


    As the girl continues laughing Aryn begins growing redder and redder in the cheeks. ¡®What¡¯s wrong with saying pee?¡¯ he wanted to ask, but he felt like it would only be digging a deeper hole for himself.


    ¡°Follow me. I know where we can find tons of cool stuff! It will be your best adventure yet. So you won¡¯t¡­¡± The girl mutters the final words under her breath, and when prompted to repeat them, she adamantly refused.


    Not that it would matter anyway. He wouldn¡¯t forget her even if he tried.


    The place the two ended up was a terrifying place to adventure. But after such a strong speech, Aryn had no room to wiggle out of this now.


    The moment the two set foot in the massive room Aryn felt as if thousands of powerful eyes were on him, but it was very clear that the room was empty. The floor was cold and, apart from the candle the girl had readied, it was nearly pitch black.


    The only light was the flicker of the flame reflected in a large glass orb in the distance.


    As the two stepped ever deeper into the room Aryn found himself transfixed by the roughly shaped sphere. Ignoring the gold and steel thrones seated above the orb, Aryn himself began to step first.


    He would have continued too. It had turned to a fixation, but a single word pulled him out of his attentive trance.


    ¡°Lotillianne.¡± The girl says pausing a step behind the blank faced Aryn. ¡°You asked me my name earlier, it¡¯s Lotillianne Wolfbourne. But just call me Lotil; if you want.¡±


    Still facing the orb and half shrouded in the darkness of the empty throne-room Aryn slowly came back to his sense. ¡°Lotil! It¡¯s nice to meet-cha. I¡¯m Aryn, I hope we can become friends!¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Lotil nods rocking her wispy platinum ponytail with a grin. Then Lotil chose to be selfish for a moment. Just a moment. It¡¯s only fair. She would ¡®live her life as she ought from now on¡¯, but just this once, she did something for herself.


    Regripping Aryn¡¯s hand and fishing for the other one carefully, Lotil rises to her toes to plant a single kiss on the blushing cheek across from her. It was only fair to reward the boy¡­ man, who was the first to console her after her mother¡¯s death. The first person to even attempt to make her laugh.


    ¡°¡­¡± Still stunned by the sudden turn of events, Aryn failed to register the sound of an opening door behind them. Lotil too, with heart thumping a mile a minute could barely hear over the cacophony.


    ¡°So I hear you went missing and I find you playing house in the throne room.¡± A booming voice tuts, filling the massive room with sound.


    The boy had truly never felt more fear in his life.


    That is, until now.


    I really can¡¯t imagine what prompted that memory to come back to me during such an important event. Well I can, but nonetheless its not the time for rehashing past embarrassment. Am I doomed to think of my first ¡®kiss¡¯ every time I see a massive glass orb? Admittedly its not a common occurrence but it still seems like a negative in the long run.


    ¡°Next please.¡± A researcher running the final test commands after the teen standing before the ¡®kingdom heart¡¯ finishes his attempt.


    Kosgroph, who I learned was named Winston, stepped up ahead of me placing a hand carefully upon the stone. Again a dull grey light began to shimmer rhythmically from the heart.


    ¡°Knock it off!¡± A shout, from the panel of judges, rumbles forcing Winston to leap in place.


    We had been strictly warned. Did you honestly expect to get away with that? A latent magic test means no channeling. I¡¯m a complete novice and even I know how to detect a cheat.


    Mana should flow in pulses. With a rate equal to that of a beating heart, not like a flickering flame. If you are going to cheat at least do it right. If you are going to cheat at least do some research.


    Amazingly they gave him a second chance. And from the looks of the expressions around me, his second attempt was no better. There was a lot of braggadocious talk during the earlier tests, I believe his words in the dormitory this morning were ¡®this job is as good as mine, you all may as well head home.¡¯


    Now I¡¯m wondering, who is it that really doesn¡¯t belong here?


    My smugness aside, now it¡¯s my turn to step up.


    I won¡¯t claim my knees weren¡¯t quaking, I won¡¯t claim I wasn¡¯t reigning in my heartbeat. Because I was, and they were.


    I honestly don¡¯t know if it was in my mind or if someone said it aloud but somewhere I heard the words, ¡®Be a man.¡¯


    How many times will I remember that lost memory today? I repressed that for a reason damnit!


    Lifting my hand and stepping forward I instantly shutter once I set foot on the raised pedestal. Before my palm could even reach this glass egg it was already meekly sparkling as if to invite me further. At this point the world around may has well have vanished, my attention wouldn¡¯t shift even if the world was on fire. As the gap became millimeters my well-trained flight response began to kick in but velocity was against it.


    As my palm lands on the stone, my head is filled with words in hundreds of languages I can¡¯t understand, and from sources I don¡¯t recognize, half sound right but the rest is shouting gibberish. It¡¯s furious with me.


    I feel pain.


    The orb, which should¡ªby material nature¡ªbe cold, is burning hot. I want to remove my hand. I want to let go. I want to fall backwards away from this cliff. But I can¡¯t even imagine how to move my muscles anymore.


    Is this what all of them went through? How were they so calm? Am I in over my head?


    No, it¡¯s different. I won¡¯t fail.


    I won¡¯t fall to some glorified marble.


    ¡­


    Or so I say.


    But the next thing I know, I¡¯m being sucked backwards. It almost feels as if my body is passing through a funnel.


    And then I¡¯m looking at my hand, with nothing but silence in that familiar room. Shaking the past moment out of my head physically, I realize I¡¯m being supported from behind.


    I collapsed?


    Seriously?


    I assume that¡¯s a failure? It explains the silence.


    Righting myself carefully I finally get a grasp on who was supporting me. No, not Lotil. If only.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ Roc Sul?¡±


    ¡°Ts!¡±


    ¡°¡­?¡±


    ¡°Tsul!¡±


    ¡°Tsul.¡± I copy nodding with widened eyes.


    ¡°Oy, relax Roc, you¡¯re just running low on mana.¡± The king mutters, nonchalantly stepping up to the two of us with seemingly no regard to the crowd. ¡°Take a deep breath. Don¡¯t get mad at the kid for something we forced on him.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s¡­¡± I begin to ask, glancing around for perhaps some back up about the humanity of that test. But I found none. And by none I mean the crowd that should be here, isn¡¯t.


    ¡°The testing is finished.¡± Roc explains after doing as King Wolfbourne instructed. ¡°To put it simply. Today never happened. The position was filled.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Glancing between the royal mage and King I couldn¡¯t help but stifle a frown. ¡°Can you¡­ put it complicatedly?¡±


    ¡°What is it you most desire?¡± Roc asks after tapping his staff impatiently without regarding my comment.


    ¡°Desire?¡± That¡¯s an interesting line of questioning. It¡¯s almost as if I¡¯m going to receive a reward. Desire. The feeling accompanying an unsatisfied state. So, what about ¡®unsatisfiable¡¯ states. I can¡¯t imagine they count. Then that means¡­ ¡°I have none.¡±


    I saw Lotil¡¯s face in my mind for a split second as I admitted that fact but again I don¡¯t know if it was my mind playing tricks on me or not. And I¡¯d rather not know.


    Roc shakes his head silently beside King Wolfbourne.


    ¡°I see.¡± The king steps forward placing a hand to the sheath of his sword. ¡°Kneel.¡±


    Without question I dropped to a knee as commanded. I doubt I could have resisted even if I wanted.


    I hear a blade leave its scabbard then the cold of metal rests on my neck.


    ¡°¡­¡± Again, a hopefully inaudible gulp.


    ¡°Will you follow the commands of the King, no matter what pain or heartache it may cause?¡±


    ¡°Undoubtably.¡± I affirm with much more eagerness than even I was expecting from myself.


    ¡°Again, it¡¯s the truth.¡± Roc nods with a glance at the reaction of mana on his staff.


    As I thought, just how many times is my mind going to be taken over today? How many times is too many? No, better yet, what the fuck is happening?


    ¡°Go ahead then.¡± King Wolfbourne says, returning his sword and stepping aside to make way for an ancient looking man dressed in butler¡¯s uniform.


    Honestly, he seems to have come from out of nowhere. A moment ago I was sure the only people here were the two Royal¡¯s, and Roc, the Court mage. Even the guards who were originally posted at the entrance had vanished around the same time as the other candidates.


    A ninja?


    Or just a typical butler? I¡¯d heard the Capital¡¯s butlers were top class, but I didn¡¯t expect such impressive stealth.


    The geezer continued staring at my face for a long moment before clearing his throat into his clenched fist. ¡°I want to apologize first. I don¡¯t know what exactly you felt when touching the heart, but I alone know it¡¯s true unpleasantness. And since it¡¯s my own failure that caused you to experience it, I must sincerely apologize.¡±


    He, alone? So the others didn¡¯t hear the voices? They didn¡¯t feel the heat? What exactly is that orb?


    ¡°The hope of the world will now rest on better shoulders. I wish you luck and ¨CYinos willing¨C success.¡±


    Bowing to me gingerly, the butler removes a thin chain from beneath his tie and fishes it from under his tunic.


    Still in a fit of confusion I reluctantly bow my own head to receive the necklace from the frail man leaning up to me.


    ¡°The armory now rests on your shoulders, safeguard it at all costs.¡±


    Nodding carefully in return before fully comprehending the words, I finally began to realize what it was I had become.


    The armory bearer -


    The one who holds the hero¡¯s sword.  The one who safeguards the hero¡¯s vault.


    ¡®If the hero is a blade, then the bearer is the whetstone and scabbard.¡¯


    ¡®Without the sword, the hero faces nothing but rebirth.¡¯

 4.

    Eventually things died down. Somehow this legendary status normalized. The necklace itself is light, but the responsibility is immeasurable.


    I still regularly chat with my predecessor in order to fully understand how everything works.


    The necklace is a key. I expected him to tell me it had something to do with the kingdom-heart but it seems to not be the case, apparently that¡¯s a whole other story.


    The necklace opens a vault made by magicians in the ancient era. The entire castle was built to stronghold it. It¡¯s why King Wolfbourne centered his rebellion where he did. It¡¯s why my dad and him fought so relentlessly to retake this land from the demons. And it¡¯s why the king had been so insistent on repairing this place instead of building a new castle where it stood.


    I honestly had no idea. And apparently neither did many other people. The only ones in the castle aware of this fact are some of the high rank court researchers and the family themselves. I doubt even my own brothers are aware of it. Although as Skule progresses in the military he will probably be let in on the secret. The people in charge always must understand what is at stake. This isn¡¯t just a country. It¡¯s the hope for humanity.


    When I was first lead to the vault I was tense. I expected cobwebs lining piles of gold and feline-golems ready to pounce at any moment, but that wasn¡¯t the case. As we carefully stepped in the direction my predecessor indicated I began to feel waves of exhaustion.


    The old man explained that it was my mana being used to open the gate. But I didn¡¯t understand until I took another step, and the hallway around me vanished. I felt like I was in nothingness. But the heft of the old bones on my arm remained constant, so I continued to step across the uneven inky terrain.


    Eventually the dark corridor opened wider and surrounding me were piles of crates, barrels and hundreds if not thousands of beautiful unique relics.


    From my understanding, the vault doesn¡¯t exist as a space on earth. The vault is a spatially locked spell connecting a¡ªcontained but inaccessible ¡ªvoid to the real world. This spell can only be activated with high amounts of mana flow, and the necklace I was given on my first day.


    There is also a couple ways to materialize the vault as a carriable item like a ring or a sack but the researchers who had been studying it concluded it would likely require the hero to activate this functionality. And it makes sense. The hero shouldn¡¯t have to make a hundred trips back and forth into the vault to haul everything out.


    I honestly wonder if I will see the day when it finally happens.


    Statistically it¡¯s unlikely.


    Well if anything I know today isn¡¯t that day.


    Hell, I bet even if the hero did appear today, they¡¯d probably keep the gates closed. Today has to be about the king. It¡¯s only once that a king turns forty-two.


    But isn¡¯t that true for everyone? I suppose I should keep that to myself though, let the maids say what they want on this joyous occasion.


    Typically, on days like this I would chat with the guards or try to blend in with the recruit butlers. Officially I am a Court Adjunct, an antiquated title the king pulled from an old novel he read. I¡¯m supposed to play the role of a note taker, and overall assistant to the king. That¡¯s in order to hide, or rationalize, the fact that I have protection shadowing me at all times.


    In order to play this role, I of course need to take the courses themselves. Which includes the head maid Vena¡¯s endless, civility classes, as well as the, twice daily, uniform forum the butlers put on.


    I¡¯ve gotten extremely good at tying ties.


    Eventually resigning to the fact that I will find no company with either guards or butlers on such a hectic day I decide to hole myself up in the library.


    Technically there are three but only one is worth visiting. Although it does bring my encounter probability up by quiet a bit. But I am sure her highness is just as busy as everyone else on an important day like today.


    Arriving and picking through the leather-bound books I land on one about migratory patterns of butterflies. ¡®Who in their right mind would write about that¡¯ I ask myself as I lug it over to a nearby table and begin paging through the highly informative prose.


    Truly an absorbing work. The hours flowed like molasses.


    How many left until this party? The clock on the wall says noon but the librarian mentioned it can be slower on hot days.


    ¡°It¡¯s right.¡± A voice beside me says without glancing up from her book.


    ¡°I see.¡± I absently nod before returning to the page I had left. ¡°And when did you get here?¡±


    ¡°A few minutes ago.¡± Lotil giggles flipping a page with a lingering lick of her finger. ¡°You were pretty absorbed. I didn¡¯t even need a silence spell.¡±


    Whoever taught her magic was a fool. Did they think she would use it with good intentions?


    I always figure ignoring her would eventually make her leave me alone. But that never seems to work. Some way or another she always draws me in.


    ¡°Dad wanted me to ask for your help tonight.¡±


    ¡°The King?¡±


    Damnit. Perfect bait. She¡¯s too powerful.


    ¡°We are putting on a little show tonight before the big speech. I guess nobles out of earshot are thumbing their nose at your new position as Court Adjunct. They rattle on about how ¡®my child would have been a far superior blah blah¡­¡¯, you get the picture. They think you only got the spot because you are a weakling who¡¯s dad is friends with mine.¡±


    ¡°Was that not the case?¡±


    ¡°Well sure, it¡¯s half true, but still we can¡¯t have people questioning ¡®The Kings Decisions¡¯.¡± Lotil reiterates with a chop of her hand. ¡°So, you will be aiding the king in the speech tonight. When he steps up to the podium he will stare at the written speech carefully at varying distances before patting down his coat pocket¡­¡±


    ¡°The king wears glasses?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Nope.¡± The princess rejects with a shake of her head. ¡°But the Minister of Information says that atleast 22% of the nobles would respect him more if he did.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding right?¡±


    ¡°People say it makes you look smarter. And dad is always getting told he looks like a brainless mass of muscles.¡±


    At my look of shock Lotil concedes a point that feels important here.


    ¡°Well yeah, I guess it¡¯s only me who says that, but still, no complaints. Dad has already signed on. He agrees it looks pretty fashionable. You wouldn¡¯t know it but half the days he is late its because he can¡¯t decide which cape looks cooler.¡±


    I feel like there are too many points to ask about in what I just heard. Half of me wants to ignore it but the other half wants to admonish her for speaking about something like that outside her family. Although the latter leads to a road I don¡¯t want to bring up. ¡°Fine. Where are these glasses?¡±


    ¡°Someone will give you them during the party. A butler, so you probably won¡¯t notice. Just check your pocket before the speech starts, the case will be there.¡±


    Is it weird to find that terrifying? Why is pickpocketing such a well taught skill in the butlers training regime? Or I suppose that would be putpocketing wouldn¡¯t it?


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°We should actually probably get ready. It¡¯s getting pretty late.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not even twelve fifteen,¡± I mutter with another glance at the clock. ¡°Doesn¡¯t the party start at four?¡±


    ¡°I know! Like I said we don¡¯t have much time.¡± Lotil laughs, knocking her chair back and pulling me up beside her.


    It seems I really have no choice in the matter. If it were me, getting ready would have happened ten minutes before the party, maximum. But somehow Lotil can consistently bring me into her flow with ease.


    Maybe I have no defense against her even now. If I attempt to ignore her words they still somehow get heard. Even if I stomp my foot she can just drag me.


    Maybe for the better.


    With only a hint of feign reluctance, I follow her to the hall we first met in. A deep inner hallway that somehow still received the light of the midday sun.


    I¡¯ll never understand the inner structure of this place. I¡¯ve already stayed here for almost a month and yet I feel like I will always remain lost in this maze of corridors.


    ¡°You know we met on this very day twelve years ago. Kind of Ironic don¡¯t you think?¡±


    We did? ¡°Was it really? I suppose it was late-spring but wasn¡¯t that ¡­¡±


    ¡°You are surprised my mom¡¯s funeral was the same day as my dad¡¯s birthday?¡±


    I trailed off for a reason, how was she able to pick up my exact line of thought? It¡¯s not fair.


    ¡°Think about it, do you postpone my father¡¯s birthday celebration? A celebration spread across the entire continent? Or do you postpone my mother¡¯s funeral?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Well, I suppose I¡­¡±


    ¡°And face the full wrath of my father. Forgot to add that part.¡± Lotil tuts with a wag of her finger. ¡°Anger is apparently the third stage but I¡¯m sure he could skip a few.¡±


    ¡°Hence outright cancelling the castle celebration and hosting a small funeral?¡±


    ¡°A few of dad¡¯s advisors also figured it would be pandemonium to announce the death of the queen immediately so only close friends capable of keeping the secret were invited. I only learned most of this after I started lessons.¡± Lotil continues, wrenching the door handle on her room and nodding to the maid waiting with a wheeled wardrobe.


    Taking a seat at the chair the maid quickly prepares, I wonder how best to bring the conversation back to a somewhat safer topic. It seems I entirely ignored the fact that we had assembled here to get changed.


    Only when the fabric screen is pulled in front of the wardrobe do I realize just what is going on. Is Lotil aware that the sunlight from her window is making the fabric screen sheer? She must, right? What did she whisper to the maid when we arrived? Better yet, why aren¡¯t I waiting outside? But getting up now would probably give the wrong impression. Her slendering form has nothing to do with my rational.


    Ah. They sprung.


    No, ignore it. I¡¯m falling into her trap. Look away.


    ¡°Did you know they were friends?¡± Lotil asks, as if realizing I had looked away.


    ¡°They¡­¡± I gulp before shaking the gutter out of my head and comprehending the connection. ¡°Your mom and mine?¡±


    ¡°Mhm. They went to school together before they met our dads. Apparently, they introduced the two. You could say our mom¡¯s are the ones who really founded this country.¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right.¡± I nod with a chuckle. I¡¯m surprised I never heard my mom brag about it. Maybe Lotil¡¯s mother¡¯s death made it difficult to brag about their joint achievement.


    I was too young to really notice but I do seem to remember my mother looking somber in those days. Of course, she would so rarely show it around us, but if you looked when she wasn¡¯t expecting, you could see it for a moment.


    ¡°You know they wanted it too. What you wanted.¡± Lotil emerges from behind the screen causing me to almost block my eyes, before realizing she was indeed properly dressed.


    Oh, she¡¯s referring to that. Any opportunity to tease me about it I suppose. ¡°Let¡¯s drop it there.¡±


    Lotil covers her cheeks in a mock blush. ¡°Oh, you are embarrassed with your desire to monopolize me now?¡±


    ¡°Just stop.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t a girl deserve to confront the man who rejected her? I think this conversation is completely fair game.¡± Lotil grins before turning to the maid who was brushing lint off a coat jacket from inside the wardrobe. ¡°You agree right, Tasha?¡±


    ¡°Of course I agree Princess.¡±


    ¡°See, two vs. one.¡±


    ¡°Rigged.¡± I mutter as I step up from the seat and follow the maid¡¯s directions behind the screen as Lotil takes my spot in turn.


    I¡¯ve realized by now the futility of denying the maids their job of changing people, so I just carefully focus my thoughts and breathe deeply as my outfit is stripped rapidly.


    Only once my briefs are stepped out of, and I hear a soft ¡®oh my,¡¯ from behind the curtain do I remember my precarious location.


    ¡°Ah, right. You never mentioned what you thought of my dress.¡± Lotil conveniently asks as the maid folds my worn clothes and begins gathering the suit from the closet.


    ¡°Can it wait a moment?¡± I ask glancing down at my feet and shuffling into a profile.


    ¡°You had a good few seconds to see it. You must remember how I looked, right?¡±


    A test, really? But what¡¯s the pass mark? If I claim I don¡¯t remember, what benefits do I gain? If I remember anything right now its her form when still behind the curtain. But again, now is definitely not the time to think of that.


    Finally, with proper pants pulled up my legs I breathe a sigh of relief. With mind cleared I do actually remember quiet well. ¡°The dress itself was black. Not entirely unlike the dress I first met you in, of course bigger and more adult. You¡¯ve always looked good in black, it somehow matches you well. Like father like daughter I suppose. I think the accent on the chest was red, an embroidery of a fire lily maybe? I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not great with flowers.¡±


    ¡°Surprised you only remembered the one on the chest.¡± Lotil grumbles in mock frustration. ¡°For your information, there is also one on the brooch in my hair, and the lace on my gloves.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I mutter as the jacket is wrenched over my arms.


    I know she is just doing her job, but I think the tie could be a bit on the looser side. Perhaps I mistook the proctor from the start.


    With the dressing done, and still hours left until the party, a different maid was quickly sent in with a cart full of tea and various sweets and cookies. With no other choice I joined Lotil at the table and quickly found a few caramel filled pastries amongst the assortment.


    ¡°Still straight for the caramel.¡± Lotil giggles spinning the tray to give me access to one I had missed.


    ¡°And I shouldn¡¯t be surprised they bring an entire tray of shortbread.¡±


    ¡°The chefs were complaining about the left-over pastries, so I taught them a simple trick to reducing waste.¡±


    ¡°Serve nothing but your favorites?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Lotil vigorously nods munching into a third square of crumbly biscuit. It will always amaze me how she can eat so carelessly without getting a single crumb onto her expensive gowns. It¡¯s almost as explicable as her ability to bring up a serious topic and quickly flip to the mundane chats our time is seemingly known for.


    I don¡¯t regret it. If that¡¯s what she was wondering. I¡¯d reject her again today too.


    How would that even feel? A consort; not married, not committed, but in love, and together constantly. Wouldn¡¯t that be the most painful thing ever?


    What about when a worthwhile candidate appears?


    Do I clap for them during the royal wedding?


    Do I carry the rings?


    I get that she¡¯s not just a girl. She¡¯s not someone who is in a position to choose, her marriage will be something used to further the country. And as someone who has been raised knowing that, its understandable that my rejection of that would be something surprising to her.


    Thinking about it, am I not still in that position I dreaded? Despite my rejection I still ended up trapped behind these painful bars. I¡¯ll still have to stand on ceremony when she¡¯s at an altar. As Court Adjunct where else would I belong?


    Was I snared by a trap nobody had even set? Or was this just always my destiny?

 5.

    ¡°Twelve years.¡± A burly man in less-than-impressive clothes mutters on a grassy lawn behind the castle. A dozen freshly pulled flowers sat on the stone before him. Drips of water striking the flowers quickly bead and roll off the petals. ¡°Every damn year it rains on my birthday.¡±


    The butler behind the man quietly nods. ¡°Truly a shame.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you are going to tell me its nearly time.¡± The king says turning back to the trusted servant.


    ¡°Your party will not begin without you, your highness. Feel no need to rush yourself simply becau¡­¡±


    ¡°Got it, Got it.¡± The king stifles a grin and begins to retrace his step towards the castle.


    The butler, taking up a position gracefully behind him again speaks once far away from the grave site. ¡°Your daughter was looking for you early this morning. Were you able to meet with her? It seemed fairly urgent according to the maid I spoke with.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± The king nods quietly. ¡°We spoke.¡±


    The butler, unsure what to say remained quiet as they continued to trudge through the brush at the outer edge of the castle¡¯s grounds.


    ¡°More and more like her mother every day that girl.¡± The king eventually chuckles to himself. ¡°Say, Bo. Mind helping me with one final thing before this shindig starts.¡±


    ¡°Of course, your highness. Simply name it, and so long as it is within my power¡­¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    Business is always good around celebrations like this. And, even more importantly, people tend to be loose lipped when around peers in the capital.


    Honestly, owning a bar is the perfect cover for someone with my position. It¡¯s easy to leave in the event I am called to action, and I get a front row seat to the inner thoughts of the nobility.


    ¡°Another two over here, Hyde.¡± A man in a far corner of the bar shouts with a hand raised.


    Isn¡¯t it a taboo to call a ranked noble by solely their last name? Although here bar laws tend to trump written ones, so I suppose it can be forgiven. Readying a second cup I uncork a cask and tilt it off the rack. Serving the couple their drinks I can¡¯t help wonder how Aryn is handling the capital.


    It can be stressful to move from a small town like dad¡¯s frontier village to a big city like this. Although I suppose he probably doesn¡¯t get out of the castle much.


    I hope he¡¯s getting along with everyone. My colleagues who work in the castle talk highly of him, but I can¡¯t help but wonder if they are just trying to make me feel at ease.


    The bell on the door, chiming to bring me back to reality, made me realize my thoughts had materialized. And a signal to receive a report.


    Casually greeting the group of guards from the castle I take their orders and a silver coin as a front from each.


    The light one is easily distinguishable. Depositing the rest into a metal crate, carefully I fish the slip of paper out of the hollow coin with a thumbnail.


    Figures.


    They want me on the town during the event. I am shutting down the bar anyway so I may as well.


    Originally, I was going to attend the party with Dad and Skule but a holdup during the frontline drills forced them to cancel. And seeing as Aryn and I don¡¯t exactly speak to each other much, it felt pointless to go alone. Patrolling town with a few other incog¡¯s would be a much better evening than I had planned.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Now I can¡¯t help but notice the similarity in accenting colors between me and Lotil. Probably because I only saw a mirror a dozen minutes before the party started. I hope I am the only one who notices. Was it the maid, Tasha, or was this another concoction of Lotil?


    Luckily the food is good, or I would never be able to let the issue slide. But tell me, honestly. I don¡¯t want any side pedaling of the question here. Real answers only.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    If I am eating steak at four o¡¯clock while standing, is it lunch or dinner? I see dinner as a seated, eight o¡¯clock meal. So technically, this is closer to lunch which is a noon to one o¡¯clock meal. But who would have steak at a lunch? Maybe this is one of those hybrids?


    Dunch?


    Linner?


    In any case, compliments to the chef. I need to get more of those roast potatoes before they run out.


    A solitary benefit of being Court Adjunct is I rarely have people I must talk to at these parties. So long as I stay within a certain distance of the King, in order to mask my security detail, I basically have the freedom to do whatever I want. I don¡¯t envy Lotil who has an endless line of clowns vying for her time.


    I¡¯m not jealous. If any of these people were realistic candidates a marriage would have happened the day she turned sixteen.


    I don¡¯t know why my mind immediately jumped to that. I¡¯m sure most of these people have totally reasonable reasons for wanting to talk to her. Despite being a princess, she holds quiet significant amounts of sway in politics and industry.


    Seemingly noticing my glances Lotil shoots me a cute grin and wave. She must realize she is making these spine-tingling gestures, right?


    Everyone around her seems to have noticed. ¡®Thanks a lot Lotil¡¯ I wave in response with a plastered grin.


    Seemingly now proud of herself, Lotil continues her chat with the Kosgroph patriarch.


    Come to think of it, I often see Winston carrying books beside various levels of researchers and he never seems to call me out when we cross paths, so from the looks of it he really doesn¡¯t remember much from the examination period.


    I also heard Wilt is working the ovens in the kitchen under the tutelage of the current stoke-master. As bad a job as it sounds, it¡¯s fairly prestigious. The mana required to fire all the stoves in the castle is quiet an undertaking. The maids were whispering that today would be the first time he would take complete control over the entire kitchen. It¡¯s make or break.


    Judging by the doneness of the potatoes I say he¡¯s doing a superb job.


    I really can¡¯t get over these things.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Signaling a butler nonchalantly he sets off to begin preparations. It¡¯s about time.


    Finding an easy out in the conversation with the East Setican Trade Co. branch head, I take it. ¡°If you want to talk about seafood imports then Minister Kirk over there would be the one to talk to, or since its regarding cosmetic production, the princess might be willing to assist too.¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much your majesty.¡± The man bows nobly ¡°I will certainly talk to them.¡±


    Perfect out.


    ¡°Well then everyone, if you¡¯ll excuse me it¡¯s about time I thanked all the attendees. It would be impolite to go too long without proper pleasantries towards everyone who traveled so far.¡±


    With the rehearsed line delivered without a miss I nod to the awaiting line and turn towards the stage centered in the wide ballroom.


    In my life before all this I would have felt it was gaudy and sickening. But now I rather like the stylings of nobility. Perhaps it is because my own tastes have been adopted into the standard. Ten years ago, a stage like this would have never been set up. Black was for funerals only. The color of death, but that¡¯s why I embraced it. I¡¯m a king of death. Countless deaths bought me my throne. So why not decorate with it? Years of that excuse seems to have paid off.


    Too cool.


    I¡¯m glad I chose the long flowy cape. The burnt one wouldn¡¯t have flipped up as I stepped up to the stage.


    With one last check of my watch and a glance at Aryn to my left everything was prepared. Time for the ball to drop.


    ??¨„??¨„


    The group I was partnered with include two I trained with in my first year in the capital. This is a typical grouping, since we regularly spend days off together not only do we coordinate well but we have the chemistry to pull off the role of drunken festivalers without arousing suspicions.


    I honestly didn¡¯t know what to expect when I enrolled to be a covert op. soldier. I didn¡¯t really understand how covert ops. fit into the battles this country could face. I never realized the thousands of battles that happen daily to maintain the stable control of a country spanning from ocean to ocean. A country which maintains the very boundaries of the human continent, a country that can¡¯t be allowed to fall.


    So far throughout the night we have only seen typical festival behavior. There was chatter about rioting but from the looks of things it may just be the usual empty threats from nutjobs.


    ¡°Seems like there¡¯s a tussle up ahead. Want to check it out?¡± Tirus asks after a long moment of squinting. As the person with the best vision we typically leave Tirus to long range scouting. And his question was only rhetorical. He warned us about the fight and informed us that no guards had arrived yet.


    If the situation were different he would have said ¡®looks like trouble¡¯ to indicate it was already handled, or ¡®we can take the back way¡¯ which indicates they should split up in the nearest alley to report the situation while leaving someone to observe it from afar and assure the safety of the citizens in the area.


    All these codes are self-made and are extremely extensive. I can describe a person head to toe and, to any outside observer, it would sound like a sandwich order or directions to a nearby pub.


    None of this is trained behavior. If it were, the secret would be out. All of this is left to the agents in the field. As a test, regularly squads are sent to spy on other squads. If they can break your codes its back to fatigues for the whole group.


    To be safe our group regularly changes our own code. Two years ago, a fight would be reported to us by Tirus complimenting a passing woman on her appearance. This quickly became a hassle when we were deployed into one of the more male dominated areas of the slums.


    Not to mention Tirus¡¯ proclivity to woman meant there were often false flags.


    By the time we reached the fight a patrol of guards arrived, and we went back on ease.


    But the feeling was short lived. A shrill scream cut through the air causing every onlooker to stop in place to look.


    What we saw when we followed the source was exactly as horrifying as the scream implied.


    It¡¯s impossible.


    There was no report of the line collapsing. How could they possibly be here?

 6.

    The king¡¯s speech failed to occur.


    The moment he unfolded his notes and began his pantomiming, a monumental explosion erupted in bright light through the southern window. People smarter than me understood what was happening immediately. I think even Lotil understood before I could. In fact I¡¯d say her face was almost the calmest. The king, quickly stepping up beside her, was equally as calm though. I suppose that¡¯s a warrior for you.


    Pounding a quickly acquired sword onto the ground to silence the mumbling crowd curious of where the blast originated the king began to speak. ¡°The day we feared is here my friends.¡±


    These simple words forced the truth into anyone doubting the cause of the magic rapidly hammering outside the windows. Again, the meeker among them erupted into whispers between each other.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t call you friends out of any individual respect for you. I can say that without doubt actually.¡± The king chuckles with a glance around the room. ¡°Most of them already long passed simply to bring us to this moment. Now, I can already see that most of you want to prattle to each other about ways of escape. And I somewhat understand that. Because if demons are here that means the boundary has fallen. And if the boundary falls, so too does the country. So, we either become the boundary now or we become the road. A sword through the heart or a horn through the ass? I¡¯ll say it again, I¡¯ll understand if you want to escape. But I¡¯ll never forgive you! So, decide. Die with guilt, running away like cowards, or die in the heat of battle with brethren beside you?¡±


    ¡°We die either way?!¡±


    ¡°Unless a miracle happens.¡± The king laughs pounding his sword once again and pulling it from the sheath. A bright light poured from the blade lighting the ballroom even more than the initial explosion. ¡°And everyone knows miracles happen a dozen times an hour on the battlefield!¡±


    The heroic light of the blade was blinding for most, but my mind was preoccupied by recursive thoughts.


    Demons are here.¡ª?


    Am I the thickest one of the group?


    How can demons be here? Dad and Skule are protecting the border, so how did the demon¡¯s frontline move so far past the three chokepoints?


    It¡¯s a fluke then. A demon who snuck through the line and started wreaking havoc in the capitol. Probably a lizard type or a quad. They can be hard to kill, which explains why there were so many explosions.


    That makes so much more sense. The king got everyone riled up for¡­


    *SMACK*


    Ow.


    ¡°Listen to me!¡± A voice shouted into my ear for the nth time. Finally hearing the voice I turn to look at the blurry figure. ¡°You understand what you must do, right? Collect it and run! You understand?¡±


    Coll¡­ Run, where?


    ¡°I¡¯ve got him.¡± Another voice interjects ripping into my arm with familiar gloved fingers and stringing me towards the castle entrance of the ballroom.  Shortly behind the two of us Tasha, Lotil¡¯s personal maid was holding up the rear as our group broke traffic towards the inner chambers of the castle.


    How can I notice all that, but not comprehend what¡¯s happening? ¡°Demon¡¯s can¡¯t be here. It must be a random¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not random. The demon army is here.¡± Lotil confidently spouts to my rambling, without pausing her path towards what must be the direction of the vault.


    ¡°But¡­ the twenty-six frontier legions and¡­¡±


    Stopping in her track almost caused me to bump her but miraculously I stopped myself with pinpoint precision. Her back was still and her body seems calm but there is a tension underneath. Finally lifting her head from where she gaze she very simply stated the facts. ¡°The southern border fell three hours ago. Probably sometime between the chamomile pot and the second tray of...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible! My dad is the strongest warrior in the world. And Skule is completely uncontested in strategy there¡¯s no way the demons could break that line.¡±


    I could see Lotil cock her head momentarily at the first part but she let it pass without comment. ¡°Then we agree on the principles.¡±


    ¡°¡­ What?¡±


    ¡°Skule couldn¡¯t allow the line to break, and your father would need never retreat, am I right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Then with those as the variables how does the demon army arrive at the gates of the capital?¡±


    I see what she is getting at. ¡°All the more reason not to run away. I¡¯ll take them on myself if I hav¡­¡±


    I¡¯ve never heard such a clearly fake laugh, but again, her meaning was clear enough. ¡°You will?¡±


    Roughly grabbing at my hand, Lotil wrenches it in front of my eyes.


    ¡°See any marks?!¡± She shouts with a fingernail digging into my spotless wrist. ¡°How about here?¡±


    Grabbing my other wrist to do the same she releases them and shows her own in turn.


    ¡°Here neither!¡± She reiterates before turning to Tasha who quietly awaited behind us. ¡°How about you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be a shock to me.¡± Tasha mutters quietly flipping her hand to show the same.


    ¡°No hero¡¯s here!¡± Lotil concludes with a shrug. ¡°So today, you are useless. Just do as told. Just do your duty.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Another!¡± Tirus shouts pointing above a nearby home.


    It will never cease to amaze me how fast he can spot an enemy. Holding up a thick wooden bat I begin to silently chant.


    Two seconds.


    All it takes.


    Another explosion grazes the roof of the house obliterating both the quad and a dozen imps who had ridden it in.


    ¡°Two O¡¯clock.¡± Tirus shouts noticing I haven¡¯t opened my eye yet.


    Thank god. I can already feel my retina getting torn apart each time I have to readjust after the blast. Changing my angle to match his instruction I only blink my eye for a moment.


    A one second chant should be enough. And it might just postpone my blindness for a few more moments.


    ¡°We form the frontline here! Those quick on their feet, escort civilians towards the noble quarters!¡±


    ¡°Yes sir!¡± A chorus of voices clamber back at him.


    That must be the King. Took him long enough.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have heard anything?¡± The kings voice again calls out. I assume he is talking to me. Cracking an eye carefully indeed it seems to be the case.


    ¡°I was hoping the opposite your majesty.¡±


    ¡°I see. And your mana. Can you keep it up? Mages from the court are gearing up as we speak so feel free to fall back.¡±


    Taking the eyepatch from my left eye and pulling it over the bridge of my nose I open my eye and slowly adjust it to the light. ¡°If you¡¯ve got a spare sword, I could probably swing for awhile. I was incog when the attack started so all I¡¯ve got is a dagger and this.¡±


    Tapping the crumbling small staff on the ground carelessly I retrieve the sword tossed to me gratefully. Swinging the familiar heft a few times, a grin grows on my face as I realize the intended user of this blade.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± The king asks retrieving his own sword with a manic look.


    ¡°For my brother.¡±


    ¡°And for Lloyd!¡± The king bellows igniting his sword with a pulse of mana once again.


    A great number of the nearby demons scamper away from the powerful light but if they are anywhere near, then its far too late. A swing of his sword and hundreds of Lizard demons and Imps scatter into dust.


    Following behind the lumbering man carefully, I take out a quad first by cutting down its forelegs. Collapsing onto the Imp¡¯s taking refuge, I hack at its wide throat and kick off deep into a crowd of Lizards.


    ¡®Lizard demons are interesting¡¯ dad used to say. They are bipeds but they follow a sort of herd mentality which can make for easy killing but also added danger.  They have no verbal communications, their ¡®war cry¡¯ is the same as the ¡®help cry¡¯. This can be advantageous to heated battles if you are aware of how to harness it.


    Since they only attack what they see, if you leap deep enough into a pack you can split a herd as the rest keep moving forward. This makes it much less dangerous and much easier for typical soldiers to handle the subsequently smaller waves.


    Of course, the danger is much higher for the splitter themselves, since they basically have to hold off an entire line until reinforcements can finish clearing up the lizards who made it past the split.


    But, I¡¯m a Hyde. We invented this move.


    Lizards, Imps, Dog style quads, and even the more dangerous lump quads, are all no problem for a Hyde.


    So. Who did it then? Something we haven¡¯t seen in a while?


    A Dragon? A Lich? A Drago-lich?


    No, shake it off. Ignoring the thoughts, I turn to see how the King¡¯s side is doing. We are pushing forward almost evenly, I moved the frontline two blocks and the king cleared three.


    Probably noticing my glance, the king leapt over a rather large group of Imp¡¯s dropping a number of stones as he went.


    One unlucky soul caught the damn thing, freezing him into a cheering statue. The rest of the stones, hitting on target, cover the street and surrounding Imps in a layer of ice. Without even glancing back he again swings his sword decapitating a row of lizards and tossing one final stone.


    I¡¯m not sure what it did but they were there and then they just weren¡¯t. As if it were always a mirage. Clean street even, not a scrap of trash.


    The rest of the area still looked like a battle zone though. And every second more and more demons crawled over the wall and further reinforced the invading party.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Three blocks each. Good work.¡± The king says as the line moves up to the area the king just cleared.


    ¡°Right.¡± I chuckle with a reluctant fist in the air. ¡°Teamwork.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡± The king laughs with a palm landing roughly to my upper back. ¡°Always fun to fight with a Hyde.¡±


    ¡°W¡­ What about the other?¡± I hesitantly ask glancing up at the monster of a man.


    ¡°Protected and accounted for. Should be on their way by now.¡±


    Relieved, I breath a heavy sigh. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves.¡± At the king¡¯s words, I notice it too.


    Patting my forehead with a shirt sleeve and resetting my sword I breath a gulp of air while I still can. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of mana. Are those all¡­¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    Again I was pulled deeper into the castle. She¡¯s right, I know. It¡¯s in the best hands possible but¡­


    I¡¯ve got nothing. My mind is half blank, half distraught.


    I would have stayed in that state too if not for our arrival to a familiar place with familiar faces.


    What was the name?


    I want to make sense out of anything, so let¡¯s start here.


    I met him on the first day I arrived here. It was something memorable. ¡®L¡¯ something. Leo¡­ Lector, Lector Baines!


    ¡°Lector Baines.¡± I mutter, now sure of myself again. Atleast I know one thing. With this maybe I can get a base on which everything else can settle.


    ¡°You remember my name.¡± The man laughs as he looks up from the work he was apparently performing around the vault¡¯s entrance. ¡°That makes me happy.¡±


    Him, along with the other researchers all glance to each other before sharing a collective chuckle between themselves. Returning to work double pace, the men begin drawing thick red lines over the chalk they had been preparing.


    I know what that liquid is. But who¡¯s, and why do they need so much? The king said to collect it. Am I here to collect it? What does that mean?


    The Hero¡¯s Vessel?


    That¡¯s impossible.


    ¡°Stand back, Aryn.¡± Lotil grimly whispers, grabbing my arm and pulling me a step away from the elaborate circle the five men were simultaneously completing.


    ¡°What are they doing to it? Only the h¡­¡±


    My words fell off my tongue though. All five reached the center with their respective lines of the elaborate array. As the five streams of blood met in a central pool a bright red glow began to pulse irregularly through the newly formed seal.


    Lector tilted his head up as the final drop of blood left his pitcher, and I won¡¯t forget what he did as they each tumbled to the floor into a heap.


    He smiled at us. Like he was smiling at a future. Like he saw true hope.


    But I¡¯m not that. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m the hero.


    I¡¯m here to run, not save the day.


    So, didn¡¯t he throw away his life for nothing?


    ¡°Aryn!¡± Lotil again shouts. ¡°The vault! Open it!¡±


    Fumbling I take the necklace out from under my shirt and hold it carefully in front of me. The gem in the center is apparently glowing and probably has been since the ritual began. Stepping slowly, as if to avoid befalling the same fate as those five before me, I stumble forward.


    By the fourth step it began. The chain of the necklace unraveled and twisted into a loop floating above my hand and the gem. With the chain fully tout, the gem began to dim in brightness gradually. A handful of seconds later, once almost all the light looked to be gone from the gem, it erupted into streaks of physically manifested mana. With the gem now gone, these petals of mana slowly curl around the chain until a bundle is all that remains.


    The glow in the hallway diminishes and rapidly all the blood pooled before me bursts into thick black smoke.


    Is it¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Lotil nods as the vault settles back into my grip. Grabbing my hand she begins tugging me back from the pile of disintegrating flesh and blood.


    ¡°Why did they¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you really want, or even need, to ask that?¡± Lotil quietly asks as I struggle backwards. ¡°We can¡¯t waste time. Don¡¯t let their deaths be in vain. Tasha, which way?¡±


    ¡°Left. Voices are coming from the primary route.¡±


    ¡°Roger.¡± Lotil responds tugging me towards an intersection of hallways.


    Shouldn¡¯t we follow the sound of voices? Why would we purposefully¡­


    ¡°Humanoids¡­¡±


    ¡°So, you know your history, good boy.¡± Tasha whispers at my awestruck realization.


    Hallway to hallway we weaved until finally in a recognizable area again. The library should be two ballroom length¡¯s north and the residence hallway is just around the corner. Where exactly are we heading anyways?


    ¡°Tasha we don¡¯t have ti¡­¡± Lotil begins to chastise as the sound of footsteps stop falling behind us.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry milady. I can¡¯t go any further. Mouse hunting must come first.¡± At the words from Tasha¡¯s mouth, a burst of speed erupts from her legs and she lunges at the wall opposite us.


    I thought she was going to kill me for a moment but she clearly passed me by and nearly caved in the wall in front of us.


    Between her, and the sand and gravel that remained of the wall, was the mangled form of a humanoid with round scaly ears and a coat of thin fur lining his face and arms.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got great hearing. And where there¡¯s one.¡± Tasha begin before leaping out of the crevice and up to the rafters where she delivers a kick square into the nose of another humanoid figure. ¡°There¡¯s dozens.¡±


    As her words fall sounds begin coming from all three hallways behind us.


    ¡°Go princess.¡± Tasha reiterates before untying the bonnet from her chin and flipping up two long slender ears. ¡°Let me handle any of the savages who dare make a move against my family¡¯s legacy.¡±


    Again, an impossible burst of strength erupts from her small frame as she grips one Demon by the rounded ear and tosses him into another group sending them all tumbling.


    Without another second of flinching Lotil again drags me by hand in the direction of the library wing.


    ¡°¡­¡± Wordlessly I follow but thing seems to just be getting more incomprehensible. Humanoid demons are more than just legend? And they¡¯ve already infiltrated the castle?


    Tasha.


    What is she? Why was she living as a maid if she¡¯s that powerful? She said something about family legacy, is she somehow related to the royal family? Or was she referring to¡­


    If I had to guess the king must be involved somehow. But if she is that strong why not position her on the frontline with¡­


    As my mind wandered around easy and tough subjects, we apparently reached the library.


    ¡°Wake up.¡± Lotil half-whispers with another clap onto my cheek. ¡°No time for day dreaming. We need to get the tunnel open and¡­¡±


    ¡°Tunnel¡­¡± I mutter, finally able to pull a shred of my thoughts together. ¡°I¡¯m really expected to run?¡±


    ¡°Do you think my father¡¯s speech meant nothing?¡±


    That speech. Honestly it was impressive. It even made me want to fight. Who would turn their back after something that rousing. Which is exactly what I mean. ¡°How can I run when they are fighting for their lives out there. We have the armory now, maybe we can go and¡­.¡±


    ¡°STOP!¡± Lotil again shouts slapping my face with more force than the first two combined. ¡°Your job is to run. My father had you undergo a pledge, to follow his commands. Before anything you must follow the kings command. Weather it bring you pain or anything! Don¡¯t you remember?! Why do you think he made you pledge to that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­!¡± I attempt to rebuke but Lotil has already begun pulling me towards a wall mounted book case. Reaching for a book labeled ¡®Histories of the Kingston Family Line and Their collapse,¡¯ several pistons and spells begin releasing around the wide rack of books.


    With the tunnel open, and a wide spiral staircase winding infront of me Lotil wrenches me to face her abruptly.


    With a line of tears lining her eyes she pulls my head down by my tie and plants her lips against mine heedlessly.


    My mind is still in jumbles, but I don¡¯t fail to kiss back. It as if my body is reacting on its own instinct. I don¡¯t know why but I suppose I could hazard a few guesses. Eventually pulling back from me with a thin string connecting us Lotil bites her lip and faces the door of the library.


    ¡°Go. I¡¯ll close the doors behind you and make sure you have a good head start at least. Head north once you reach the f¡­¡±


    ¡°OK that¡¯s enough! That¡¯s absurd! I¡¯m not leaving you here. We can run together an¡­¡±


    ¡°Above all else, above money, above blood, above state, the sword must be protected. Do you think that means nothing to us? Do you know why they are fighting? You asked about the speech, about why you should run when my father said the opposite. That is the reason. Those people are dying for you without even knowing, and you want to argue about this now? Even if everyone in the nation must fall for you to escape, we will have won the day. Even if you have to sire the hero yourself, you must survive!¡±


    ¡°Remember what you told me all those years ago? The words you said that stopped me from crying from that night on?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time for me to step up. To stiffen my lip. Now, will you let my last memories of the boy I love be ones of cowardice or will you be brave?¡±


    I want to answer but she didn¡¯t allow me the opportunity. Stepping quickly out the door to the library and shutting it behind her, she had sealed my options.


    I follow her out the door; or I run.


    I¡¯d like to say I followed her. But in that moment of choice I felt something vaguely familiar. Pain, anger, torment, a voice, and that same feeling I felt when I laid my hand on the heart in the throne room.


    I¡¯d like to say I ran because any rational person would.


    But I just ran.


    I¡¯d like to say I heard Lotil¡¯s footsteps behind me on my way down the endless spiral staircase. But I didn¡¯t.


    And I knew I wouldn¡¯t


    Because she is brave. Probably braver than I will ever be.


    Even facing the demon army itself, she will, even if only for a moment, delay them. As she promised me.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Just too many. We kill one and three replace it. I¡¯ve already broken two sword and probably an arm.


    We weren¡¯t prepared for humanoids in these numbers. One on the battle field could normally turn tides but there must be hundreds here.


    Even the king, who seems used to fighting these fiends, is seemingly struggling under the sheer numbers.


    Tirus died.


    I didn¡¯t see it happen, but his head is completely crushed. Probably the breath of a lump quad.


    Actually, I think my entire squad is dead. I haven¡¯t seen Wix since the king began reinforcing us. And Trunbot died in the first surge according to the platoon he led here.


    I think the only reason I am able to keep up this fight is the smile on the King¡¯s face. Perhaps we are fighting for the same reasons. To relieve glory days we had forgotten, and to experience the ones we endlessly heard about in stories.


    ¡°¡­¡¯d be proud.¡± The kings voice called over the howl of battle. I didn¡¯t catch the first part but I got the message.


    Lifting a staff from a fallen court mage I begin to channel with the protection of a few nearby elite guard.


    As they wrestle off the humanoid and Imp¡¯s endlessly trying to jam my casting I finally enter the third line of my chant.


    ¡°This might just kill me.¡± I mutter with a chuckle in between verses as I read off the pages in my memory.


    With a small spark forming on the tip of my staff, the king and even a few of the remaining court mages stare in disbelief at the accumulating mana. Most know about death knell¡¯s but few had ever seen one forming into a spell firsthand. A few even thought it was nothing more than a urban legend.


    The demons too seem to have noticed and are packing around my position vying for a chance through the encirclement in attempt to interrupt the casting.


    With the king growing giddy over the size of the group around me he lets loose with his fractured sword cutting away row after row.


    Finally finishing the ninth aria, I open my eyes only to find a figure floating in the air exactly where my focus was centered.


    I felt dread. Pure unadulterated fear, a feeling I had nearly forgotten.


    Releasing the mana almost inadvertently out of pure shock, the staff in my hand rips to shreds as the spark vanishes from the spot and begins rocketing towards this floating figure who sat waiting patiently.


    The spark struck the other-worldly figure less than a half second after firing. That light was the last thing I saw.


    I didn¡¯t see the figure brushing off the cinders on his fingers, or the hand accumulating mana at a scale even beyond my own. I didn¡¯t see this demons response to my attack.


    A thousand fold? Probably more.


    It didn¡¯t matter in the end. It would be enough.


    ??¨„??¨„


    A death knell. The pulse of mana attributed to the loss of life. They say even a single powerful mage dying can send a pulse over fifty miles.


    What about the population of a city? What would that death throe feel like?


    ¡°How many¡­¡± I croak before another eruption of vomit spills through my clenched jaw.


    Instinct tells me to keep moving but my knees are frozen to the hot soggy stones beneath me.


    Did I know any of them?


    Were any of them my friends?


    Was Lo¡­


    What am I even asking?


    They are all gone.


    There should be no doubt. The demon lord is here and humanity has fallen.


    This will be our end.


    So with that being said, why are my legs still motivated to move? Should I really question it? Lurching myself from the collapsed heap with what little strength I have, I begin again towards the red light of the setting sun at the distant end of the tunnel.


    Sanctuary. Freedom, so close at hand.


    The heat of the spring sun growing closer and closer as I meander through the cave gave me sparks of hope with each step.


    Nothing made sense but I refuse to question anything anymore. So far it¡¯s gotten me nowhere.


    Just one step. Then another. Then I will be safe again.


    One step, then another.


    One step.


    Just one step.


    But then, there were none more to take.


    The entrance of the escape tunnel. A stone arch jutting from a stone outcropping. Trees and heavily forested area lay outside it.


    Or so was the story.


    All I saw were flames though. Thousands of feet high, licking at the trees endlessly, and heaving thick black smoke in every direction.


    Out of the frying pan, into literal hell.


    Falling to the ground with a self-pitying laugh I begin taking off my jacket and shirt.


    If I¡¯m going to die I¡¯d rather it happen quickly. I don¡¯t want clothes engulfed in flames burning me alive. Maybe smoke inhalation would actually be an easier way to go. Or should I just go back down the tunnel and find one of those rat demons?


    No, I chose this path. I won¡¯t wuss out the moment my choice reaches a dead end.


    ¡®When we can¡¯t find a path. We make our own.¡¯


    My fathers¡¯ words ring no truer than now. But what about when a path is uncreatable?


    Continuing to unbutton my shirt as death approaches a sudden thought passes my head. A last-ditch idea perhaps.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way, right?¡± I ask, lifting the materialized hero¡¯s vessel from where Lotil linked it to my belt. Reaching my hand in and rummaging around, I feel no sides or bottom, it felt similar to the vault.


    So, then what would happen if¡­


    For instance if¡­


    Hypothetically, one were too¡­


    Breathing deeply, I unlink the ornate chain clasp on the armory and kick my legs into it¡¯s opening. Again, I feel nothing but the various contents of the hero¡¯s armory under my feet. Wrapping the bag around my waist I carefully scoot off the edge of the bag holding the rim carefully.  Lowering my body gingerly I again breath deeply and flip the rest of the bag over my head and fingers.


    With a thump, the bag drops, and my body with it.


    Peering around, I indeed find myself inside the dark recess of the armory just as I remember it, only much larger. But before I could feel relief my mind began to fade into darkness and the walls seemingly caved in around me.

 7.

    It¡¯s not the darkness that was scary, I knew I wasn¡¯t afraid of that, because when the moon shone full I would still tremble. I think darkness was at least predictable, it was one of the sole constants in that unpredictable hell.


    It was night when I left that place too, now that I think back on it. It was that night that I truly became the hero.


    Maybe the moonlight has some deeper meaning for me. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me, there¡¯s more legends about me than grains of sand on the beach. Surely one must mention ¡®moonlit nights¡¯.


    My empty chuckle, drawing the attention of a boy seated on his mother¡¯s lap across from me, prompts him to begin inspecting me carefully.


    I suppose my figure and outfit might ignite some questions in the boy¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Hey, Mister,¡± He eventually whispers, glancing at his mother¡¯s dozing figure behind him. ¡°Are you a warrior? A mercenary maybe?¡±


    ¡°Tobi, that¡¯s rude.¡± His mother chastises with a single open eye. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about him he doesn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°No worries.¡± I wave her off quickly. ¡°It happens all the time. Actually, Master Tobi I am a traveling Ninja. Trained by my teacher for fifteen years before being subjected to the ¡®ultimate trial¡¯. Now that I have succeeded, I am traveling the world to do virtuous deeds!¡±


    ¡°¡­ Woah,¡± Tobi mutters with a slack jaw. ¡°Ultimate trial¡­ Cool.¡±


    His mother, giggling behind him flashes a thumb towards me before shutting her eye again as Tobi begins to imagine the way of the Ninja.


    The caravan bumps noisily as the road switches from dirt to cobble as the city comes nearer.


    From here I need to find some coinage or maybe a job escorting someone to the capital. Of course, me alone will make the latter difficult. Even if I was the most peerless warrior on the planet, who¡¯s going to trust the word of a single stranger?


    To start, once we arrive I¡¯ll ask the merchants how much a seat on a capital bound caravan will cost. I can expect it to be at least double what I paid to get here, which is my life savings, so if that math works out I can be expected to leave in about thirty years.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Luckily, I¡¯m the hero though. Not that my branded wrist gives me some discount trip, but a person incapable of falling in combat can surely make a few measly gold coins in a long weekend.


    Finally arriving I wave to the boy and his mother as our group splits in a dozen different directions. I was quickly able to find the merchants running the caravan to the capital. The route was via Nantwin so I¡¯ll have a chance to sample some seafood before hitting the long leg, and it will be a lot cheaper toll-wise, than the straight shot.


    Two and a half small gold coins for the seat though.


    Now I just need to find a job paying three.


    There¡¯s the obvious choice but I¡¯d rather not get my hands dirtier than they already are.


    As I began to walk away from the caravan section a loud whistle cut into my thoughts. Glancing towards its source I spot a handful of men outfitted in thick hide armor. Judging by their location they must be scouts for various escort parties.


    Stepping towards them carefully with sword arm tense the whistler walks forward from within the group to meet me.


    ¡°Our fifth quit last minute, if you can carry the bag and hold your own against our archer with a sword, your in.¡± The man rattles off quickly as if he has rehearsed it a dozen times. ¡°Food and bedding for five are already packed, so no worries on that front. What¡¯dya say? Give it a shot?¡±


    ¡°Going to the capital?¡± I hesitantly ask weighing the chances of this being some strange trap. But if we are escorting a legit caravan they wouldn¡¯t dare try anything. What¡¯s the worst the can happen? I¡¯m the hero. If I can¡¯t take a risk what am I even doing?


    ¡°Assigned to the Six-thirty departure. We already pushed it as far back as possible once Jax quit. We swapped with every group we could. You¡¯re our last hope. So?¡±


    ¡°Alright. Where¡¯s this archer?¡± I ask reaching for the sword I grabbed on my way out.


    ¡°Not here, not here.¡± The man tut¡¯s pushing the half-drawn sword back into its scabbard with breakneck speeds. ¡°You almost gave me a heart attack. You must be new here. There¡¯s a public training ground two blocks away from here.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Ah.¡± I mutter glancing at the tense guard glaring at me a short distance away.


    ¡°But really this fight should be interesting. I hadn¡¯t expected you to be able to move so fast with a body like that. In fact I was worried about the backpack when I first called you over.¡±


    ¡°I may not look it, but I know how to carry a sword. And my strength is fairly good. My father was a party leader so I trained with them from time to time. I can hold my own in a fight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say, you might be able to give me a run for my money during this bout.¡±


    ¡°Cim I thought I was¡­¡± A man with a bow hanging off his back begins to say with an incredulous look at the man leading.


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Cim asks with a wide grin. ¡°I¡¯m this parties archer after all, how could I volunteer someone else to fight?¡±


    Noticing a distinct lack of bow or fletching on the man I can¡¯t help but shrug. I don¡¯t mind fighting him or anyone else.


    No matter what it ends the same way.


    One way or another, I win, and I go to the capital. From there, I gather my army and we march on the demon world.


    And any demons in my path fall.


    That will be enough to prove it, right?


    It has to be.

 8.

    ¡°Testing.¡± A woman in white coat and glasses plainly states into a device situated above one of the elaborately designed desks littering the densely cordoned room. ¡°Sound, good.¡±


    Reporting to herself after carefully watching a glass panel mounted on the recording device, the woman begins retrieving a double thick leather sack from beneath her desk. Unfastening it carefully and plucking into it with a thick metal hook she produces a dirt caked red cloth with a gem adorning its tattered clasp.


    ¡°Again, ¡®retrievals¡¯ have failed to sanitize the relic, but who am I to question them.¡± The woman mutters as she stretches the fabric back into shape with forceps, and pins it with a handful of magnets plucked from her bracelet.


    ¡°Probes read no residuals. Style could indicate ¡®lost era¡¯, maybe even older. Where was this¡­¡± Cutting herself off and replacing the probe she was using to its holder she begins thumbing through the entry report for the relic.


    Typically, this was to be done first but that rarely happens. Researchers are the types who enjoy the mystery.


    But this report just added more mystery.


    ¡°This could be one of the few surviving relics from the ancient capital!¡±


    Covering her mouth in surprise and glancing at the other researchers around her, she breaths a sigh of relief when she remembers that she skipped lunch hour for this. The only two remotely nearby are a half dozen rows away, and with the hum of hundreds of tables pulling off the grid there¡¯s no chance her voice traveled.


    Without another moment of hesitation, the woman begins cranking a knob on the desk, allowing a blue glow to spread along the slats cut across the metal counter top.


    The woman, keeping her hands carefully away from the work area glances at a few glass panels beside the dial in confusion as the mana drawn by the relic rapidly begins expanding.


    A sudden spike causes the lights in the room to even dim. At first she thought it was a surge on the harvest side but it¡¯s too convenient of timing. Just as the realization hit her, the table she was working at flickered to darkness and the lights again returned to normal.


    Again glancing around, the woman notices the two others are peering at her in the distance with frustrated expressions.


    Waving at them with a guilty face the woman flips two switches below her desk and finally lugs a thick metal pin back into place. Again flipping the two switches the table ignites back to life.


    Twisting the smallest dial on the far left to its highest setting a louder hum begins whirring from her table.


    Trying again, this time with draw rate increased by four times the woman carefully turns the mana flow on.


    ¡°Incredible. To think that our ancestors could possess this much mana in the ancient times, it will never cease to amaze me. I really thought that this mode was used for nothing but spectacular explosions.¡± Chuckling to herself the woman retrieves a different probe and begins operating it with a foot petal. ¡°It looks completely stable. Magic array applied might be a variant of a teleportation spell? It¡¯s an archaic formation, that¡¯s for sure, I can¡¯t make sense of half of it. Maybe an early precursor to an inventory sack? Teleports items to a contained space that the user maintains with mana? Very inefficient. Must have been a luxury to have that kind of mana pool.¡±


    *Click*


    Pressing a button above her seated position the woman glances around one more time. ¡°I wonder what¡¯s inside¡­¡±


    Pulling the bags mouth open with metal forceps she peers inside carefully. ¡°Same as an inventory bag, ¡®non-visible contents¡¯. I can¡¯t forget to report that later.¡±


    ¡°If you put your hand in this bag. You¡¯ll die. Theft will be seen as a direct threat, precautions will be taken without prejudice.¡±


    The woman¡¯s mouth, fully open, quickly snaps shut as she reaches for a notebook and frantically flips to a fresh page. The sounds of scribbling are heard for awhile before the loud hum of her desk cuts off and she begins shuffling her supplies into a bag.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Hours later a recent hire delivered her resignation letter, citing a feeling of insecurity in the workplace environment. Apparently, her work table ignited into flames when she was inspecting her most recent relic. The fire destroyed the artifact as well as a few personal belongings, but the researcher was adamant she didn¡¯t want any sort of hazard pay or reimbursement.


    It wasn¡¯t unusual for talented new hires like her to get cold feet after witnessing their first meltdown. But the superior couldn¡¯t help but hope she was one of the rare few who would come back after a few weeks of fresh air.


    Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t the case. The model employee he thought she was, vanished the moment she packed that red silken artifact into her purse. The rest was easy. Drop the transcoder onto the slats, and make sure the others witness the resulting explosion.


    With the ¡®documents destroyed¡¯ the rubble will lose all its significance. For all the others know, the woman was working on a metal box type artifact hence the large metal fragments caught in the blast shield. The only ones who know the bag even existed are the retrieval team who submitted it, but once they are paid they tend to lose interest fast.


    If the paperwork system were any better, this wouldn¡¯t be the perfect crime. If the retrieval teams cared at all about history ¡ªor anything besides getting paid¡ª this wouldn¡¯t be the perfect crime.


    But since it isn¡¯t, and they don¡¯t, it was.


    Arriving back at her house late that night, the woman finally breathes a deep sigh. After reversing it she begins laughing quietly to her empty room.


    ¡°Big gamble.¡± She eventually mutters pulling a leather sack out of her bag and setting it on the chair carefully. ¡°Tomorrow should be very interesting.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Crate for¡­¡± The uniformed man checks a metal plate on his wrist before poking it in frustration. ¡°I swear these things die faster each generation. Um¡­¡±


    ¡°Heather Meiyo?¡± The researcher prompts with a glance at the sticker atop the crate. The ¡®prompt service¡¯ written there doesn¡¯t seem to apply when regarding their door staff.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Yes, mind tapping here?¡± The man asks holding out a different tool hung from his belt.


    ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d¡­¡± Heather begins to ponder as she hold her ID against the smaller device and receives a ¡®ding¡¯ in return.


    ¡°It does. But they figured since it dies so quickly we¡¯d be running through a dozen energy pods a day.¡± Seemingly fed up himself, the man grumbles as the crate is wheeled in. ¡°May as well just give us back the old tech.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± Heather nods as the man retrieves the roller from beneath the crate.


    The door shutting behind him, the man glances back to add one final note.  ¡°Don¡¯t forget to give me five stars.¡±


    Pulling open the crate with hard to suppress excitement, Heather again emits a chuckle to herself. ¡°If only they could see us now.¡±


    Luckily, and without knowing it, the delivery person left the desk very near the only open high output terminal in the entire apartment, with only a light amount of maneuvering it was in position to operate. Since the table requires a hard connection it somewhat messes with the flow of the room, but for now that can be forgiven.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± Heather chants to hype herself.


    Working with only kitchen tools the ex-researcher began retrieving the bag. Any contact would probably kill her instantly so utmost precautious would be required.


    No fancy bracelet but fridge magnets will do the trick.


    No probes. No tests. Just her now.


    Propping the mouth of the bag open with a wood peg she begins prepping the mana settings on the unfamiliar control system of the supply desk.


    Glancing up she immediately drops her work and again begins scribbling into her notebook. With no mana supplied to the bag, its insides were completely visible. She was quick to sketch out the flower-like structure built around the pale gem.


    She thought it was oddly beautiful like the inside of a red tulip waiting to bloom.


    She had to restrain her interest out of sheer excitement for the other unknowns. She had to turn it on.


    ¡®Click.¡¯


    If the commercial tables could be called a ¡®hum¡¯ would this be more akin to a ¡®yowl¡¯?


    She figured most of her neighbors would be working around this time, so maybe a noise complaint wouldn¡¯t be filed immediately.


    In any case time to start.


    ¡°You are a talking magic device, right?¡± Heather asks in a clear voice moving close enough to make sure she wouldn¡¯t be drowned out by the table.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± The bag responds with a mechanically modulated voice.


    ¡°You are shaped like a bag, but you talked about theft. So, am I to take it that your contents aren¡¯t free to take?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±


    ¡°Then would you make a trade?¡±


    A long moment passed as if the bag was considering the pro¡¯s and con¡¯s.


    ¡°You are correct. However there is a maximum of six and you are in debt by three.¡±


    Heather¡¯s face scrunched at the unexpected caveat. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°An item for its equivalent, and the same for a question.¡±


    Heathers eyes widened in shock before nodding in apparent understanding. ¡°Then go ahead.¡±


    ¡°How many years have passed since the reign of King Leonus Wolfbourne?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Le¡­¡±


    ¡°The uniting of the continent?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Again Heather remains silent before making a last ditch effort. ¡°Perhaps those are events from the lost era. History, art, technology, magic, all of it vanished around eight hundred years ago. Nobody is exactly sure how many years were lost or what exactly happened during the time, but it might be what you are referring too.¡±


    ¡°Do you know about the Yinotians?¡±


    ¡°The creators?¡± Heather asks flipping open a nearby book to a folded page. ¡°First generation of humans who built the foundation for all technology.¡±


    ¡°How many years ago did they live according to your history?¡±


    ¡°Dating on recently uncovered texts found near a Yinotian ruin indicate around thirteen thousand nine hundred years.¡±


    ¡°At least four hundred years are missing in your history.¡± The bag coldly announces before pausing for a long moment. ¡°The war, is it still¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Heather answers coldly in return. ¡°That¡¯s three, right? So my debt is clear?¡±


    The bag¡¯s silence answers simply enough. ¡°So, a question or a trade?¡±


    Hearing a banging on the door Heather pauses her internal debate to glance at the clock. ¡°Time flies. Hold on one moment.¡±


    Flipping a switch on the table the black shadow that once stirred around the inside of the silk bag vanished to again be replaced by its actual internal structure.


    Tossing a sheet over the bag haphazardly Heather heads to the door and again taps her ID on an awaiting pad. Receiving another box in return she waves and shuts the door as the teen sets off on his next delivery.


    ¡°Mmm.¡± She mutters flipping up the top of the box before once again glancing at the still grumbling mana table. With mouth half filled with bread and cheese Heather mutters her candid impression. ¡°Overheats faster, louder, and less working room than the commercial alternative. And it only cost me my life savings. What a deal.¡±


    Unable to wait, and with complaints unaddressable, Heather plucks the sheet off the table and begins firing it up once again.


    ¡®Silence is underrated¡¯ She concludes as the fans once again begin struggling under the heat of ten¡¯s of thousand¡¯s of Tri¡¯s per second.


    ¡°My first trade offering.¡± Heather quickly states once sure the whirlwind of darkness was again stable. With metal tongs taken from her paltry kitchen, she carefully passes the item through the threshold of the bag.


    ¡°¡­¡± The bag was slow to respond as it considered the item. ¡°This is food? You realize I feed off of mana right?¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s food. May as well be superfood. It¡¯s got vegetables, bread, even meat, and cheese. All the important food groups covered. It¡¯s important to maintain a healthy diet. And as for the second part¡­ Well I hadn¡¯t thought about that. I was too excited about seeing an item actually teleport using such an archaic design.¡± Heather admits rubbing her head with a chuckle. ¡°You can give it back if it fails to meet your expectations.¡±


    ¡°It is too late.¡± The voice booms in return. ¡°I hope you find satisfaction in your fourth deal.¡±


    A long moment later a small cork grew visible from the edge of the bag, slowly growing longer it ended at the lip of a finely crafted glass bottle.


    Without remembering the tongs, Heather ripped towards the bottle with a bare hand and plucked it from the mouth of the bag.


    ¡°In¡­ Incredible.¡±


    Without minding the significance in the size of the air bubble above the liquid Heather begins marveling over the wine bottle. A bottle made thousands of years ago, with techniques we probably can¡¯t even replicate in, not only perfect condition, but with label intact.


    ¡®Click.¡¯


    ??¨„??¨„


    When Aryn next woke up in the bag he heard the soft sound of sobs and a distinct lack of the racket he had grown to expect in this place.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The voice stammers in between shaky labored breaths. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so so¡­¡±


    ¡°Why are you apolo¡­¡± Aryn began to ask into the vocal changer he had found amongst the trove of junk left by the other armory bearers over the years, but the sound of a blast outside of the confines of the bag causes his heart to convulse mid-sentence. ¡°How long has it been this time?¡±


    Again a blast and the quiet melody of sobs from Heather. ¡°I turned one twelve last month. If I bought the house in ¡¯23 then it would, ninety three years? Was I really nineteen? I suppose I had just graduated¡­¡±


    ¡°You have no reason to apologize. It doesn¡¯t concern me if nearly a hundred years pass without my knowledge.¡±


    A long pause comes from outside while Heather breaths deeply as if preparing to open a very deep wound. ¡°It would matter if you were human. I think you would be angry if you were human, you might feel betrayed. That¡¯s why I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Dropping the voice changer carelessly Aryn wipes his eyes before turning to look back at the black wall where her voice originated. ¡°How long have you known? Since the beginning?¡±


    Her silence answered the question well enough, so when she spoke it just felt like needles.


    ¡°I pitied you. I couldn¡¯t imagine what would have caused you to enter such a hell. Eternity locked away, and now trapped in an era where you can only bring death to those around you. But I couldn¡¯t do anything to help you. So I thought it was best that I lock you, to both the back of my mind, and my storage.¡±


    Another explosion shook the tower sending a flurry of dust down from the rafters and onto the grizzled hair of the desperate woman.


    ¡°But now those locked memories are all I can rely on. So, now I turn to you again, for my final trade. No, a request. Even though I have already taken so much from you. Can you give me anything to reverse this situation? Or at least some way to protect my family?¡±


    Aryn, flinching at each successive blast moves his heavy eyes across the pile of items, but they only end up lying on the sword in the end.


    ¡°I have nothing.¡± Aryn plainly confesses, plucking a smaller bottle from the confines of a black box. He wanted to save it, but now it felt unfair to do so. Stepping over to the wall and pressing the bottle into the event horizon of the spell he mutters the truth. ¡°I can make it only easier.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Heather nods pulling the bottle from the opening of the bag and placing a hand on the control system of the familiar desk.


    With a click, Aryn¡¯s world again began shrinking in on him. The final thing he heard, as his head became heavy, was the sound of breaking glass and a much louder blast from outside the walls.

 9.

    ¡°No more sleep.¡± The hero¡¯s cold voice cuts through the thin cloth of the various tents set on the rocky ground parallel the old roadway.


    There are fourteen of them now. Eight men and six women. Seventy percent of them are warriors or battle mages from noble families, while the remaining four are female clerics sent by an assortment of different churches hoping to increase their influence one way or another.


    In fact, in the hero¡¯s opinion that hope was one that the majority of party shared. But that was besides the point when the task is this important.


    Motivations, for the most part, can be forgiven. So long as they properly help in the hunt, the hero could care less about their individual motivations.


    Grumbling, the various characters begrudgingly begin packing up their beddings and makeshift tents. After the hefty donation from various nobles and the royal family, the leeches expected the accommodations to be extravagant and they were rarely silent about their disappointment, this morning included.


    Ignoring it, the hero began scanning over an old map, comparing the road and landmarks to the barren wasteland now bordering the human world. Today the search would focus west of the ruins. Follow the riverbed as far as the day will take them and sweep the other bank tomorrow.


    Realistically they won¡¯t be found immediately, the hero knew that, but this opportunity wouldn¡¯t last forever so the risk was worth the reward.


    ¡°Breakfast.¡± Poiy, one of the few female battle mages in the party chimes with a genuine smile. She was probably one of the most well-meaning of the lot. And strong too, alone she was able to fend off an entire wave of demons while assigned to the front line. When reinforcements finally arrived, she refused to retreat until she had recovered the bodies of all of her fallen squad members.


    And to top it all off, she¡¯s a foreign beauty. The hero couldn¡¯t help but be conscious of her whenever in her presence.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± The hero coolly returns, taking the bowl of mashed oats with a smile in return.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was always the same oats, but the hero had noticed a distinct increase in flavor whenever Poiy oversaw the cooking. When complimented on it she rather haughtily joked that her previous squad shared the thought. And then her face grew tense, so the hero was wise enough to avoid the discussing the topic for too long.


    ¡°So, I was thinking I could be in the front today with the shield users. See, I just learned this new defensive¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°No, you see, last time was a fluke.¡± Poiy quickly protests after noticing the hero¡¯s rolling eyes.  ¡°I spent that entire night practicing and completely forgot to compensate for the mana I wasted. But this time I¡¯ve fully recharged. No sudden naps this time, I promise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you an hour. If anything more than a rabbit attacks, you¡¯re swapping back to ranged with the other mages.¡± The hero relents with a sigh.


    ¡°Yay!¡± Poiy cheers, pulling the hero into a hug only to be pushed away as usual.


    ¡°Keep it down, don¡¯t forget where we are.¡± The hero chastises with another eye roll.


    Giggling and glancing around, Poiy notices a variety of the other party members staring daggers at her. ¡®Don¡¯t forget to ask.¡¯ One mouths with little attempt to mask the message.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking about that¡­¡± Poiy mutters with a look of her own disdain.


    ¡°Oh? What do they want so bad they have to make you ask?¡± The hero quickly pieces together with the help of the typical group dynamic.


    Poiy hesitates to state it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and glaring at the group. ¡°Somehow word got to one of the frontier governors about the search on his side of the border. He deemed that reason enough to host a ¡®Hero¡¯s welcoming parade¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± The Hero¡¯s words immediately bring joy to those around, but the words don¡¯t stop there. ¡°So, because we are, a few hundred miles from his land he expects us¡­ no, me to show up and give his town an productivity bump while also proving his influence. And you all want desperately to go and play with them I suspect. Which entices you more, the free food, or cheap women? The food will give you parasites, but that might be the least of your worries after the women.¡±


    The few grim faces returned to the hero don¡¯t halt the speech though.


    ¡°Please go ahead though. I really hope you have fun waving from atop the float.¡± The hero mocks with a grin, gazing at the guiltiest amongst the group. ¡°Tell them you are part of the hero¡¯s party I¡¯m sure they will pour you a drink. Go on and tell them all about how you would rather abandon the task and celebrate with them. I¡¯m sure they will appreciate you for it. ¡®Hero¡¯s of the people¡¯ they might call you.¡±


    A chorus of silence answers the hero¡¯s outburst. None of them could deny the selfishness of the request.


    ¡°Now, whoever wishes to help, I¡¯ll be continuing west today I hope you keep up.¡± Tossing leather sack onto back haphazardly and strapping sword to waist, the hero sets off to continue the helpless search.

 10.

    I woke up a few times between then and now, but they were each short lived, leaving nothing but groggy recollections of things that may have never been said. But now that things are clear once again. The words that were said keep coming back to me.


    ¡®Eternity locked away.¡¯


    Was that really what I chose?


    Would I have made the same decision had I known?


    I think I would have, but maybe that is because my body is still in flight-mode.


    It didn¡¯t really matter what she said. To me, those people died hours, even minutes ago. And the closure I receive in return is the realization that now, for certain, everyone I¡¯ve ever known is dead.


    Some closure. I wanted a neat bow and instead I receive a noose. A noose that can¡¯t even cinch properly.


    I should have never given up that bottle of nightshade.


    No, my mistakes go further back than that. Maybe it starts with the thought that ¡®that leap¡¯ would be one away from hell. Now I wonder if it was the opposite. Wouldn¡¯t heaven be shutting my eyes for my last time with Lotil by my side?


    Lotil.


    I suppose she was the one who made that decision for me in part.


    And now she¡¯s gone, forcing me to wonder about the imperceptible benefits alone.


    ¡®To fulfil my job.¡¯ That was her wish for me; to find a hero that may never even be born. To find someone capable of wielding a blade that would drain the life out of most in less than half a minute.


    If Heather was any sign, then more than half of the items in the stack I am sitting on alone would instantly kill most humans of this era. What does that say about my chances of finding a hero when typically mana pools are similar generation to generation?


    How many thousands of years might I have to wait for humans to even be able to handle magic tools again? Will I even be awake when such a time comes?


    Wait¡­


    Something is off about that thought.


    Why am I awake?


    ¡°Go ahead and open it. This one is from me and your granny. I think it will be perfect for you.¡±


    Overwhelming the sound of the newly appearing male voice is the distinct sound of tearing paper.


    ¡°A box?¡± A simple voice returns in curiosity.


    ¡°Inside the box, Jiro.¡± Another friendly voice advises from somewhere further away.


    Again the sound of tearing paper as the thin decorative box is torn as opposed to opened.


    ¡°Pretty.¡± The closest voice mutters absently before sending me a surge of mana on a level far beyond expectations.


    This is a child, right? Then why does it feel as if this place is larger than even I could ever make it? I¡¯ve heard children can have more volatile mana pools, but the sheer amount expelled per heartbeat is incredible.


    More importantly, who gives a child a dangerous ancient relic?


    ¡°What do you say to grammy and grandad, Jiro?¡± A maternal voice instructs in a sing-song voice from nearby my owner.


    ¡°THANK YOU!¡± Jiro cheers dropping me unceremoniously and cramping me back into the narrow room I had grown to loathe.


    ¡°Sure thing, kid. But this ain¡¯t no ordinary bag as you may have noticed. Was it tingly?¡±


    ¡°Tingl¡­¡± Jiro begins to mutter before seemingly coming upon a meaning. ¡°YEAH! Why though?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a magic tool.¡± The man explains before adding a comment I couldn¡¯t agree with. ¡°If you keep it on you it will strengthen your foundation and it¡¯s the perfect stash spot for all your little gadgets.¡±


    And no, not just a problem of storing this kid¡¯s spent suckers. ¡®Strengthen foundation¡¯?


    I¡¯ve never heard that before in my life. And for good reason I assumed. In my era ¨CIt feels strange to say that¨C volatile mana pools and magic devices were like mixing ice and fire. Presumably it¡¯s why there was an age limit for my post. If it were only about mana pool then I am sure they could have found a baby with a significantly higher amount than me.


    Maybe knowledge has progressed, or has regressed? Were we backwards in keeping magic tools away from pre-teens, or were we wise?


    Well it¡¯s not as if I can tell Jiro to just throw me away. I could try to scare him, but that wouldn¡¯t feel right. I suppose I have no choice but to opt towards the ¡®wait and see¡¯ routine.


    ??¨„??¨„


    I always wake up with something interesting at hand in this time with Jiro. His, ¡®gadgets¡¯ as the old man called them seem to be a variety of prank tools, simple golem-based action figures, and a handful of other random things that differ day to day. Somedays it¡¯s a butterfly net, sometimes a toy sword.


    His adventuring time only seems to last for two hours a day before sunset, once his lessons have properly been completed. He gathers me, and a variety of tools, tosses them into my groggy face through the black wall, and dashes for the courtyard to meet up with his counterpart.


    At least Heather gave me food after waking me up, not that I¡¯m particularly hungry.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    I haven¡¯t found the chance to speak to him yet. Maybe it¡¯s shell shock? The last two people I spoke with died seemingly only moments later. What¡¯s going to cause it this time? Somehow, I know it will feel like my fault.


    If I did speak to him I don¡¯t even know what I would say. Pretend to be a magic tool again? It would pass easier on a child. Honestly it probably would have passed for most people unless they specifically studied magic tools like Heather had.


    She probably noticed me answering contextual questions.


    Obvious I will strive to not make mistakes like that again, but still, only she would realize that nothing but a living being could pick up on something with that level of complexity.


    If not pretending, then what? Tell him my story?


    That¡¯s, a horrible idea.


    ¡®Oh, you see kid, I¡¯m in this bag because I ran away when my family and friends were dying. I¡¯d totally recommend you follow my great example. Looking for a role model? Look no further.¡¯


    He¡¯s better off chatting with his imaginary friend.


    And yes, if you are wondering, I have considered the obvious route that provides. But impersonating an entity with no voice has certain clear flaws.


    Thinking about it clearly now, I wonder why I feel so insistent on communicating with him? I said it myself, I¡¯ll likely only bring him harm, so what do I expect out of talking to him?


    Maybe it¡¯s out of hope for his namesake.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Lili, over here look, look!¡± Jiro shouts with hands probably clutching a beetle of some sort wrenched from a high tree branch.


    This Lili character was one of the few friends Jiro seemingly ever met with. Perhaps he has friends he rarely meets in high nobility, like Skule did. But somehow, I had a feeling that wasn¡¯t the case.


    Lili is similar in character to Jiro in many ways, sans height according to their rambunctious chats on the topic. She never lets the topic go from what I¡¯ve noticed, maybe she is from a family of all older siblings. With the chance to brag about height coming rarely it wouldn¡¯t be unusual for her to get caught up on the topic.


    Jiro takes it on the chin though, he probably knows in a few years he will tower over her even with his small build.


    ¡°Woah!¡± Lili murmurs in amazement before the sound of gears turning in her head became almost audible. ¡°Where¡¯d you find it?¡±


    Taking the bait with reckless abandon Jiro probably points to the tip-top branch of the tree, despite knowing full well he found it while only half-way up. ¡°Way up there. I had to¡­¡±


    ¡°But how¡¯d you get it with such short arms?¡± Lili muses with a grin clearly ringing through her voice.


    Realizing his mistake in that instant Jiro attempts to sidestep the insult. ¡°Well, if you put your mind to it, being small can¡¯t stop you. Ya¡¯ just have to keep trying hard. Success will find you if you don¡¯t go looking.¡±


    I know for a fact I heard your grandfather say one of those exact lines to your father prior to their departure after your birthday celebration. Plagiarism is a crime you know.


    Well to be honest I don¡¯t actually know the laws of this period, but surely.


    Actually, if anything, what I am doing now is probably much bigger issue on the broad scale of things, so I suppose glass houses shouldn¡¯t throw¡­ wait¡­ how does that go again?


    ¡°You¡¯re getting better and better at retorts.¡± Lili sighs after containing her laughter.


    I felt the pulses of mana flooding the hero¡¯s vessel coming much more rapidly. I wonder if he even realizes the correlations between his flustered heart and Lili? From in here, it¡¯s obvious, but I suppose feelings are harder to understand at that age.


    ¡°Want me to show you?¡± Jiro asks with the reigns on his heart clenched tightly.


    ¡°¡­¡± With a quirk of her head Lili silently prompts him onward.


    ¡°The spot where I found the beetle!¡± He finishes excitedly. And then, without allowing her a moment to choose Jiro quickly waves her over to the tall apple tree he had freed himself from only moments ago. ¡°I¡¯ll show you the path, watch close! I¡¯m sure even you¡¯ll be able to handle it.¡±


    ¡°Too far,¡± Lili growls as she watches Jiro begin to scale the tree with poorly-hidden hesitation in each step.


    Even I admit he was acting a bit cocky with that retort, but perhaps he felt like he earned it after Lili¡¯s previous dig. A little give and take should be a granted in any relationship, childhood or otherwise.


    Off topic; But watching this makes me think of something my father talked about almost daily back when my mother was with us. I suppose it wasn¡¯t something he talked about, but more of just a thing he said. He would refer to her as his ¡®eye cleanser¡¯ after a heavy day.


    I finally understand that concept.


    I think that¡¯s what this time period is for me if I had to describe it. It¡¯s a clean sponge after trudging miles through mud.¡ªBut it wasn¡¯t mud. That¡¯d¡¯ve been a welcomed alternative in fact. ¡ªIt¡¯s like being brought back to a time when the world was smaller yet felt so much larger.


    This world that I¡¯m visiting seemingly doesn¡¯t have a war, it seemingly doesn¡¯t have politics, it doesn¡¯t have strife. And that¡¯s because it¡¯s the world a child, a world strategically devoid of reality.


    That world I walked through still exists. I know it does, it¡¯s just raging somewhere far outside the walls of this carefully crafted childhood.


    Is this type of childhood wrong though? Perhaps only if the columns collapse, and the truth comes sloshing in.


    Either way, I don¡¯t think I have the authority to decide that. My brothers and I grew up understanding about the world simply by necessity. We were taught about demons because they posed an actual threat to our daily life. But for the people who died in the capital, the ones with early lives like me, and the ones born in quilted cocoons, each and every one of them ended up in the same place. Prepared or not the grave came to them. So, can one really be argued as better?


    Falling as cattle, or wolves is all it really comes down to. And when history begins to forget, as it always does, neither side will be spared.


    I¡¯ve witnessed that now personally.


    Perhaps this is why those stories are passed down to children. So the important stuff isn¡¯t forgotten at the very least.


    The figures may fade, but the injustice can never be left unchecked. This fury can¡¯t be forgotten.


    ??¨„??¨„


    There¡¯s never a way to knowing just how long I¡¯ve slept after impromptu naps like these.


    Has it been an hour or a thousand years? Does it even matter? Maybe only to me.


    ¡°Food, check.¡± The boy mutters, passing an orange and a half loaf of bread through the opening of the hero¡¯s vessel and directly onto my lap. ¡°Water, check. Rope, check¡­¡±


    Continuing with a variety of necessities, the boy carefully prepares for this mysterious new adventure.


    What is he planning now?


    Better yet, what was happening when I fell asleep? Before I fell asleep, I remember hearing Jiro shouting something.


    Did something happen to Lili?


    ¡°What happened? Where are you going?¡±


    Jiro, who was still attempting to pull himself together mentally, at first thought the voice was his own conscious it took a moment to realize its source wasn¡¯t internal.


    Leaping backwards from his bed, with feet light enough not to make a racket, Jiro looks around for the real source.


    ¡°Who¡­¡± He begins to stammer.


    ¡°Come back over here. If you are gone for too long I will fade once again. What happened? Why are you leaving?¡±


    Jiro heeds my words hesitantly stepping up and gripping the bag once again. ¡°Wh¡­ what are you?¡±


    ¡°I am the hero¡¯s vessel. And, if I think it requires it, I will assist you in your journey.¡±


    ¡°H¡­¡± Jiro begins to murmur as he strokes one of the smooth red gems on the lip of the bag. Shaking his head suddenly he returns to his mission at hand. ¡°Lili, one of our mai¡­ My friend, Lili. They said she stole¡­ I think she was kidnapped.¡±


    ¡°Who took her?¡± Who¡¯s forcefully demolishing his column?


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I... I don¡¯t know. I just know where she is, the maids were talking about it when they thought I was outside.¡± Jiro explains impatiently. ¡°I have to hurry.¡±


    Honestly, I already had it half figured out.


    So, this will be his hero moment?


    ¡°Very well.¡± I calmly state, trying my best to restrain my excitement. ¡°If you are ready, then let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll help me?¡± Jiro asks as if seeing the first glimmer of hope in days.


    The answer to his question was a glimmer emerging from the empty pocket residing in the bag.


    Extending hand carefully Jiro retrieves the lump of metal I offer him.


    I was tempted to give him the actual sword, but a flurry of doubt festering in the back of my mind restrained me.


    Speechless at the construction of the small dagger Jiro inspects it endlessly. Peeling it from the sheath a short gasp escapes his mouth as the blinding yellow light fills his room.


    ¡°Step carefully, and go become a true hero.¡± I urge after a moment of silence.

 11.

    ¡°And now here we are almost a year later, and you have nothing to show for it.¡± A man in long drapes growls with a vein in his forehead pulsing.


    The hero stood patiently waiting for the noble figure¡¯s speech to cease.  This had been going on for the past few minutes, ever since the group arrived after the rare royal summons.


    Speaking of the group, by now ninety nine percent of them have cycled through for one reason or another. It¡¯s probably why half these nobles are so angry.


    A few of the battlemages were seriously injured after one made a mistake while casting, one of the warriors decided to marry a woman he met in one of the frontier villages, and Poiy¡­ Well, she was murder by one of her fellow party members in cold blood.


    That final straw caused the hero to become extremely wary of forming a group at all. But since the search is dangerous, at minimum a healer and secondary fighter is necessary.


    Those two left are Bonze, a hermit, and first-class warrior in his later years of life, and Filia, a saint of an almost-unknown church, capable of even regrowing minor appendages. None of the other churches particularly argue the decision, they are aware she is one of the most powerful healers around. It¡¯s the same with the warriors. The hero¡¯s recruitment requirement was beating Bonze in a one on one, and in the end nobody was capable. His background is mysterious but there was no disqualifying his skill, even the hero might not be his match during his prime.


    The reduction of the party made funds much more plentiful yet despite all that the hero was still recalled to the capital by royal order.


    If it¡¯s by royal order then why are only the noble¡¯s yammering?


    True, the hero did take a large bag of gold from them when first stepping onto the public stage. But the nobles firmly stated that it was a gift to help expediate the search and subsequent destruction of the demons. So what sway do they think they have?


    ¡°If you are unable to return the funds we have allotted you, we have no choice but to place someone more trustworthy in command of your party until the task is complete. It makes sense considering the f¡­¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The hero didn¡¯t remember signing any contract with them. In fact there was never even any agreement that the demons would even be eradicated. The hero only ever stated one fact during the reveal ¡®I am the hero, and here is my sign of proof.¡¯


    The rest was assumed, or expected perhaps?


    Nonetheless the hero felt like reminding them. ¡°I am fighting on my terms. I am the hero on my terms. I won¡¯t take orders from anyone, if you think your investment grants you power over me then just take it back.¡±


    Tossing a sack of gold underhand to the man talking moments earlier the group of nobles are awestruck to find it strikingly similar to the bag they had handed over those many months ago.


    A minister, stepping over to it with a small scale and a handful of weights, confirms that it is indeed the same amount.


    ¡°But you¡¯ve been traveling now for over a year, just how are you operating without¡­¡±


    ¡°I stepped into a bank with that bag and asked for a loan citing it as reassurance. I invested that money into a variety of shops in both the capital, and around the villages we visited.¡± The hero explains calmly to the agape nobles who had likely helped fund the loan as well. ¡°Money is only needed to open the doors. Once that¡¯s done making more isn¡¯t too difficult. Have no fear though, the loan was payed back around a year ago according to my accountant, so I really have no use for that anymore.¡±


    The nobles seated and standing around the wide table quickly close their mouth as the King finally emits a sound. But not one they expected to hear today. A great booming laughter came from the relatively meek looking man.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve been had, Todd.¡± The king eventually sighs with a grin. ¡°Hero, just so we are clear, I did not call you to complain like all these petty figures.¡±


    The nobles, never before hearing such insults come from the king¡¯s mouth, again drop their collective jaws in unison.


    ¡°I figured as much.¡± The hero shrugs with a glance at the bag a minister was separating back into the individual investments. Feeling a pulse of mana the hero returns the glance towards the young king. ¡°I still thought it was a good time to return that anyway though. So, has she had another vision then?¡±


    The king, nodding solemnly indicates it wasn¡¯t a good vision this time.


    ¡°It came a few months ago. It¡¯s contents were vague. All she told me was I had to recall you. And once you return, it would begin.¡±


    The nobles around, confused about their silent mouths eventually realize the use of magic to restrict the conversation.


    Moments after the realization a rumble shakes the castle walls, prompting the hero to bolt up from the plush chair and rocket towards the door to meet the sound.


    ¡®The princess¡¯s visions shouldn¡¯t ever be doubted. A moment of waste could mean a nation destroyed.¡¯ The king, now realizing he had made it in time, breathes a sigh of relief. Even incomplete, with the hero here, history won¡¯t repeat itself quite yet.

 12.

    Stepping through blackened dirt and char an elderly figure stepped readily towards a central point only he could find.


    He wanted to know if that demonic thing was still there.


    His expectations had himself set up to be disappointed but if they were reached, he certainly wouldn¡¯t be happy to see it.


    In the man¡¯s mind his parents had done little to form the man he had become. Only the short words from that demon had truly lead him towards this bloody path.


    Words and a way.


    Words and a weapon.


    ¡®Become a hero,¡¯ If ¡®that thing¡¯ truly wanted that, then why give a weapon?


    He wanted to ask that if he ever did find it again.


    But now that it sat paces away, nearly as intact as the day he received it, he was terrified to even touch it.


    Puffing a heavy breath, the man steps forward and laboriously lifts up the simple relic.


    ¡°Wake up.¡± Jiro prompts with a quick surge of incredibly controlled mana. Without waiting a moment for response Jiro continues after a sigh. ¡°I wanted you to be destroyed in the blast like everything else.¡±


    ¡°Wh¡­¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing it was all some grand lesson. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve determined after all this time. Lili was my lesson about being friends with lessers. That it could only bring me pain.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°I guess to them it was something like an investment though, groom an orphan up to be a pretty little maid and then¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡± Aryn mutters with tightening stomach.


    ¡°As horrible as that all was, I think you are even more evil. You encouraged me. And you gave me, a child, such a dreadful tool. Something capable of all this death.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Aryn again hesitates in his answer. Although it was mere moments ago, he couldn¡¯t help but admit that he was probably too quick to arm the boy with an unknown relic. If he¡¯d simply waited a moment to¡­


    ¡°You wanted me to be the hero.¡± Jiro reasons simply. ¡°I¡¯ve heard those legends before. Demons and dragons waring with humans. But our world isn¡¯t that black and white y¡¯know. Humans are our opponents, and I may have killed almost as many as I¡¯ve saved, can I still be a hero if half the world thinks I am one of those demons of legend?¡±


    ¡°Th¡­ this period isn¡¯t warring with demons?¡± Aryn asks with a hint of pitiful hope suddenly overflowing.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s logical that a magical tool designed to search for ¡®a hero¡¯ wouldn¡¯t care about the plight of everyday humans.¡± Jiro laughs without realizing the depth of the cut he had just made. ¡°I¡¯ve heard there was a war in the wilds far to the south, but the monsters have all been contained by the border tribes for decades. It will probably be a few generations until the tribes completely clear the wild¡¯s, and turn their attention back towards us. I suppose then your job will be done. Maybe you can disappear aswell.¡±


    Aryn slumping his head in the vault breathes deeply to hold his emotions together. So it isn¡¯t over. This is just another cycle.


    ¡°Oh right, the real reason I came was to return these. They¡¯re too dangerous for this world.¡±


    Hearing a gasp and a clink in front of him Aryn tilts his head to see the dagger he had given the boy coated in a thick layer of fresh warm blood.


    ¡°Now, maybe I am a hero for both sides.¡± Jiro chuckles as his mana begins to bleed into the hero¡¯s vessel in one final pulse.

 13.

    ¡°Sold! To the fel in the green cloak.¡± A voice shouts with a drop of a gavel.


    That¡¯s right. I¡¯ve now been sold. And if the translation device I am using is correct they are demons, or atleast humans who speak a demonic language.


    I honestly sort of expected it. Not this situation, but when Jiro told me the demons were being heavily restrained, I knew it would only be a matter of time before the tide flipped.


    I hadn¡¯t anticipated such a sophisticated society though, perhaps a barbaric tribal one at best, but never did I expect both an economy and fair competition in trade.


    Now as I¡¯m carried off somewhere, I can¡¯t help but wonder who or what exactly bought me.


    I¡¯ve never even heard of a ¡®fel¡¯.


    The name brings the story of ¡®the precursor elf¡¯ to mind for some reason. But those are nothing but the works of fiction, I¡¯m sure its just the similar spelling that is bringing it to mind.


    Come to think of it Tasha, Lotil¡¯s personal maid, had very distinct pointed ears just like the elves in those tales. It was obvious she was a demon of some kind, but I can¡¯t think of any other books describing humanoid demons with those features, so what exactly was she?


    Then again, I haven¡¯t read all the books stored here yet and there are quiet a few. I find it hard to pick up a book when I never know when I am going to be¡­


    ??¨„??¨„


    Like that.


    I wasn¡¯t even expecting it.


    I¡¯ve read that demons have better control of mana but that was just uncanny.


    ¡°You almost found your way into dangerous hands.¡± A voice from the other side of the bag mutters as he inspects the magic bag.


    What exactly does he mean by that? Why are his hands any less dangerous? A demon is a demon, there is no lesser of two evils.


    ¡°And you have a guest as well?¡± The demon again mutters with interest. Coughing into a fist, the demon begins speaking again but in human language. ¡°I am sure by now you have realized where you are. But I have no intention of harming you. When the time is right I or my descendants will send you back to one of the new human nations. I would handle it now, but the condition of the human world is not one that could counter attack with your possessed power yet.¡±


    So he knows everything?


    How is that possible?


    ¡°I¡¯ll understand if you are scared to speak. But I want you to know my family has always supported the humans. We are very serious about our aid towards humanity.¡± The demon continues explaining with a serious tone. ¡°You probably don¡¯t know the history of it all do you? Does the name Fa or La mean anything to you? How about Yinotia? If you understand it, then you¡¯ll know I¡¯m telling the truth. We will always support the humans. How could we not? They are our ancestor¡¯s children. Our distant cousins who we can¡¯t help but see as endearingly foolish.¡±


    The first people. The Yinotian¡¯s, origin of magic and father of humanity.


    ¡°Read this.¡± The d¡­ voice again adds.


    Coming through the wall of the bag was a thin book which looked to be meant for children.


    Honestly, I was kind of insulted at first until I opened it. It seems to be written in both human words and demon script. Perhaps it¡¯s the only version of this ancient story written in human words.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But why would they even need it?


    I suppose this family might use it but I can¡¯t imagine most demons can read human books.


    Am I really taking this seriously? Why would a demon, support humans, of course its easy to use human history to manipulate us, perhaps he thinks, if he can make me trust him, I will hand over the sword? I¡¯m not stupid.


    Still what bad can reading do? And I recently remarked on my lack of studying in these past days.


    Fine. Let¡¯s see what this story is about.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡®In the early days, after god placed us on this land, we knew only rampage.¡¯


    ¡®From coast to coast we warred with each other. Indiscriminate murder of even kin. In the end, only the strongest would survive. Destruction was in sight.¡¯


    ¡®Several people were aware of that fact, including twins La and Fa.¡¯


    ¡®Sister had an idea but couldn¡¯t imagine how to implement it.¡¯


    ¡®Brother helped but alone the two could never succeed.¡¯


    ¡®With the help of Sister¡¯s magic, Brother¡¯s scheming, they began to create a demon fundamentally different by nature.¡¯


    ¡®A demon like they, with the desire to create, with emotions and sympathy, and ultimately, a demon free of the flaws of demanity, that even they couldn¡¯t shake.¡¯


    ¡®Only with the help of the strongest demon in the world, the king, could the three create this new world.¡¯


    ¡®Ebbing and flowing forever ¡®humanity vs. demons¡¯ will replace the war that would have demolished all life.¡¯


    ??¨„??¨„


    A lot is missing from that story. Conceptually I understand what its trying to imply. But this won¡¯t solve the problem La and Fa observed. Didn¡¯t it just prolong that issue?


    Unless they created something that made it fundamentally impossible for humanity to ever win.


    So we are forever locked in this war? Then what am I even delivering this sword for? This sword, it¡¯s said to have been made by the predecessor elves, then¡­


    ¡°The hero¡¯s sword. It¡¯s¡­¡± I mutter for the first time with furrowed brow at this new realization.


    ¡°Yes it was made by one of their early children, the original ¡®Yinotian¡¯s¡¯ who settled the fairy islands.¡±


    Then all of it is a trick. The sword is probably designed to fail or¡­


    ¡°If the hero uses this sword¡­¡±


    ¡°La and Fa would finally win their war.¡± The voice laughs coyly, ¡°The demon king is a fool if he thinks my parents aren¡¯t as greedy as he is.¡±


    Then it¡¯s not a trick? The sword will truly work as described?


    ¡°Then you are my ally, despite the fact that my ¡®best case scenario¡¯ results in your death.¡±


    A long moment passed as the demon contemplated his words. ¡°La and Fa personally oversaw the creation of the sword. They weren¡¯t afraid then. And neither are we now. We simply want to see to the missions success. Will I be sad that my children or great-grandchildren will be killed? Of course. But as an early precursor of human I fundamentally see flaws in my own behavior, I¡¯m a human still possessing the worst flaws of demons, its why we regularly live amongst the demons and only rarely blend into human society. Personally. I can¡¯t even rationalize my own existence.¡±


    That¡¯s hard to digest. Perhaps its just my fear of death when applied to his own situation. I suppose maybe that fear of death is something we later versions have acquired.


    Am I really believing this? I honestly can¡¯t point to any flaws nor any benefits to him telling me a lie.


    Realizing I am not going to answer the demon speaks once again. ¡°When the time comes, the hero can¡¯t hesitate. So, you mustn¡¯t either. I¡¯m deactivating this tool now, so no sensitive types detect it. I might not meet you again in my life time. But I will properly instruct my descendants to pass you onto a human once the time is right. Good luck armory bearer.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    I woke up for a few moments as the familiar voice introduced me to his son Liam. At that time, I realized I didn¡¯t know the fathers name but by the time I formulated the question my eyes were again shutting.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Again, for mere moments I awakened with a new introduction. This time Liam¡¯s youngest granddaughter Sophia.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Sophia was replaced with Flint.


    Flint with Leyo and Leyo with Tirist.


    How many years have gone by? Hundreds? Thousands?


    This can¡¯t continue.


    The next time I was awoken I didn¡¯t listen to a word. I didn¡¯t want to count anymore.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Human mana. I¡¯d recognize it anywhere. Where is it coming from? How did I get into the hands of¡­?


    ¡°Take this.¡± A heavily accented voice says in human language. ¡°It¡¯s passed down in our family with orders to hand it over to a human in need.¡±


    ¡°Th¡­ thanks.¡± A voice carefully replies without as much accent. ¡°You¡­ you really won¡¯t kill and eat me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already said we bought you with no such intention.¡± The demon explains simply. ¡°Believe us when we say we truly hold no ill will towards your kind.¡±


    I¡¯d believe him buddy, he is handing you his own destruction and he is probably somewhat aware of that fact.


    Honestly though I am surprised they have kept their word. I suppose it was a carefully handed down tradition but still, I underestimated them. Now even more I am sad that I don¡¯t know the name of the person who rescued me from the block all those generations ago.


    I never even thanked him.

 14.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You can come out now.¡± The hero beckoned to a group of women cowering in the corner of a cell fit for two. ¡°Nobody is going to hurt you. You¡¯re free.¡±


    Still hesitant, the women begin looking between each other and the mysterious armored figure. Finally, with deep breathes they each step towards the open door.


    ¡°I have a camp set up next to the river behind a grove of trees. It¡¯s only a short distance from here, and one of my partners has some food waiting.¡±


    ¡°I found these.¡± A grumpy looking man explains with a handful of towels and blankets as he steps through a nearby doorway.


    Noticing him, the former slaves collective jump at the sight of him but the hero calmly eases them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, despite his scary face, Bonze is a nice little grandpa. It was his idea to find you some warmer clothes.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I only found blankets and furs though.¡± The old man frowns with drooped head. ¡°Once we meet back up with the army, they should have something better.¡±


    The slaves, realizing their mistake bow their head and happily receive the blankets from Bonze.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± They each echo as a warm fur or blanket is taken and wrapped around their frail figures.


    The hero, with face full of separate emotions, eventually prompts them towards the camp where the rescue had been concocted.


    ¡°Should we burn it?¡± Bonze asks as the group eventually makes it past the bodies and into the forest surrounding the makeshift fort.


    ¡°We can¡¯t.¡± The hero sighs with a glance at the girls faces. ¡°We have to get the buyers too. They won¡¯t show if the fort vanishes into ashes.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t really think they are¡­¡± Bonze begins to asks with careful looks at the girls curious faces.


    ¡°They were demons.¡± An older woman standing near the back states plainly. ¡°I saw them myself. I was sick at the time, so they returned me. But I swear I saw a tail under one of their robes.¡±


    With head full of disgust, the hero leads the group back towards river and adjacent camp. Humans selling each other to demons. Could there be any worse of a betrayal?


    Eventually reaching the camp, the girls quickly gulp down the stew offered by Filia. A few, seeing a church worker for the first time in years break into tears and begin praying in front of her awkwardly.


    After visiting the frontier for a few months Filia begun to get used to this behavior but it¡¯s still stifling to the atmosphere.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    As the night dragged on with the girls and Bonze huddling around the fire, the hero spoke about something never mentioned.


    ¡°See this?¡± The hero asks pointing at the mark etching the upper half of the slender fire-lit wrist. ¡°I was told this mark would make me property. That no matter where I went, even outside of my cell, I would still be seen as something not someone. But that was wrong from the start. This mark gave me strength, this mark is where I keep my pride, and lingering hope.¡±


    With all eyes on the hero, none present could respond.


    ¡°Wherever you wear your brand, hold it with pride. It¡¯s now a badge of freedom, and you¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t¡­¡± A girl mutters with hand pressed firmly to her lower stomach.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t free yourself?¡± The hero asks with a shocked expression. ¡°But I don¡¯t remember carrying any of you out. You each stepped with your own strength to freedom. It wasn¡¯t given to you, so cherish the deeds you have accomplished, no matter the scale.¡±


    Again none of the listeners had a response. They felt like they had been saved, but that savior was denying any involvement.


    Bonze and Filia, who were aware of parts of the hero¡¯s past, understood the sentiment in the statement. The hero is only moving now because of the motivation provided by that moment.


    ¡°Tomorrow a messenger from the army will arrive.¡± The hero explains dropping another log into the collapsing pile of coals. ¡°I will send a message back to them regarding what we learned and request an escort to bring you back to the capital. If you have somewhere to go from there, we can arrange it or if you need something to do, I own a handful of business ventures many of which are hiring, you can choose from the list.¡±


    A few of the former slaves gasped or burst into tears at the news while the rest sat in amazement.


    ¡°How long ago did you free yourself?¡± One of the amazed girls asks with stars in her eyes.


    The hero, counting leather-gloved fingers carefully, eventually nods ¡°Nearly four years. I won¡¯t say I didn¡¯t have an advantage, but it¡¯s not impossible to step forward. We can talk about it more in the morning. For now, get some sleep.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    When the sun rose, as anticipated the army courier arrived with the frontlines report. Quickly penning up a letter describing what they found the hero sends it off along with a request for back-up and an escort.


    There¡¯s no telling if back-up would arrive in time to help with rounding up the buyers, but if the hero neglected to request them it would be insulting to the royal name hanging on the army¡¯s flags. You start to learn these things after a while.


    It¡¯s no wonder the noble¡¯s used to hate the hero, from their point of view the hero¡¯s party was constantly stealing glory from the frontier nobles armies. On the other hand if the hero had instead requested aid and it simply failed to arrive in time, at least the nobles could maintain some pride.


    Breakfast prepared by Filia was eggs found nearby and a variety of plants grilled into a handful of omelets. Although meager in quantity the former slaves were extremely grateful. Likely because Filia can seemingly make any simple meal into something you might find in a capital eatery.


    Finishing off the plate with careful scrutiny the hero once again gazes towards the now smiling survivors.


    There was a certain jealousy of their smiling faces. The hero hadn¡¯t been able to smile for some time after becoming free. Perhaps that¡¯s because these girls didn¡¯t have to firsthand witness what went into their emancipation. They didn¡¯t have to behead the man standing between them and it.


    Then again, neither did the hero. That part had been personal.

 15.

    ¡°Thanks a lot mister. We will take great care of it.¡± A quickly beating heart happily chimes.


    The man handing it over, is my buddy from the Demon lands. He thinks I am cursed. It¡¯s a bit insulting. And, if I could feel them, the kicks and abuse would be even worse of a crime.


    I suppose its because of the mana I require. He mutters endlessly about feeling like puking whenever he holds me. Nonetheless he properly brought me all the way to the frontier with him.


    And now, spotting the first team of impressionable adventurers he is pawning me off.


    Good riddance, I say.


    I welcome you new team of owners. May you indeed take great care of me.


    I never did find out a clear reason as to how that man ended up so deep into the demon territory. But I suppose that¡¯s not something you would need to mutter to yourself while walking.


    Indeed, I made no effort in communicating with him. The moment he called me cursed, it was an instant ¡®no gifts for you¡¯ policy.


    Of course, I shared a similar policy with the demons before him, simply based on who they were. Even if they are the only family of demons supporting humanity they are still demons.


    I think I am gift shy now after Jiro.


    I really did make a mistake. But I can now use that memory to never make the same mistake again.


    I will only give these adventures something from the armory that is suited towards their individual skills. And I won¡¯t just instantly give them something from the pile without investigating it. Every item here has a corresponding letter detailing its abilities as well as words of hope for the hero.


    I hope my predecessors can forgive me, but this is how I believe I can do the most good. Once I am sure of what these people need, I will grant it, and then I will tell them to give me up. Drop me on the side of the road or hand me to a person in need. These will be my rules.


    No hero building. No influence, apart from restoring necessary tools to use.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Quickly I picked up the dynamic of the party. It¡¯s a simple dynamic. The archer and healer are both in love with the swordsman. And from the looks of it he isn¡¯t aware.


    Typical?


    Why would I think that?


    Well in any case, I have an idea of what they each need. And its not exactly as expected.


    One would think, a sword of great power for a swordsman, but I am actually leaning towards a rather peculiar amulet. By reading and manipulating the muscles of the wearer it can artificially add mass to the wearer. It basically acts as weighted clothing which can be deactivated the moment a swift strike is needed.


    In the note it explained that it scales slowly making it so the wearer will barely be aware of the effects until its triggered in combat.


    For the archer girl, stereotypically, I choose a ranged weapon. But again, not an ordinary one. It¡¯s extremely compact and is wielded as a secondary weapon.


    Often, in the simple combat scenarios that the group went through, I noticed she would get caught with her back open. If she had a quickly operatable weapon better suited for short range she would be a lot better off.


    The tool also operates off mana so she won¡¯t be forced to carry a new pile of ammunition with her.


    Finally, we have the person I had the most trouble with. What does someone blessed with the power of healing need? There are several religious idols within the hero¡¯s armory, but I think that would be a bit¡­


    Yeah.


    There are also rings and brooches which can store mana for times of need, but they don¡¯t seem particularly necessary based on the healing techniques she uses. Most of the mana is taken from the patient themselves.


    So, I was back to square one, and more time was passing with them trading around this bag and using it to store their supplies.


    I still haven¡¯t made contact with them at all.


    Thumbing through a few more letters and finding the corresponding relics to match I line up my current options for her.


    One, a pin with a single, daily-use shield ability.


    Two, a wand which in theory could improve her meager combat ability.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    And finally the third option, a book I can¡¯t make heads or tails out of.


    I am leaning towards the book simply out of wonder if she can get anything from it. I consider myself well-read, but healing concepts are so abstract that unless you possess the skill its impossible to comprehend it by reading.


    With decision finally made I realize I have no plan to approach them.


    Just say ¡®hey, here¡¯s some stuff?¡¯


    That would play out strangely.


    I won¡¯t tell them they are chosen, that would do nothing but hurt them in the future. I won¡¯t make those mistakes again.


    ??¨„??¨„


    It¡¯s scary how things work out sometimes.


    ¡°So let¡¯s go over the plan once more before we move out.¡± The swordsman, Lio repeats after counting this week¡¯s gruesome haul. ¡°Once we get back to town, Rira is going to the bookstore while Iris and I check out the new stock at the armorer¡¯s place. We meet up by the statue at noon, get lunch and then we will decide if we want to stick around and find an inn or continue camping.¡±


    The prompt of this trip was Iris once again allowing a foe within her range of defenselessness. This moment is heaven sent, I won¡¯t allow it to pass me by.


    With a clatter sounding behind the group, each member turns to investigate the sound, only to find a palm sized metal device with a small hole in the center of one of the edges.


    Picking it up carefully Lio looks over the ancient looking box.


    ¡°Where did it¡­¡± He begins to mutter before glancing at where it could have fallen from. ¡°Iris take that bag off your waist quic¡­¡±


    Before the order could be completed, I again tempt the group.


    With a book now tumbling from Iris¡¯s waist the entire group was completely agape.


    Hurrying to follow the order half given by Lio, Iris begins wrenching at the chain hooked around her belt.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Rira, the healer, calmly states with a palm towards the frantic two. Leaning over and lifting up the book, a great smile appears on her face. ¡°It heard us.¡±


    ¡®Ding.¡¯


    And to think that predecessor had claimed in the letter that his contribution would be useless. Your simple bells are well received my friend.


    ¡°Lio, try strapping the box to you arm.¡±


    ¡®Dong!¡¯


    This time striking the larger bell firmly to deter them, I toss the final item out of the bag.


    Landing lamely on the ground at Lio¡¯s feet the green amulet twinkles in a ray of light passing through the dense forest.


    ¡°Seriously¡­¡± Lio complains as he passes the box logically to Iris. ¡°But what is¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better not to question magic items like this.¡± Rira interrupts as she turns a page with rapidly gliding eyes. ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard the legend of the traveling blade? An eccentric magic sword which saved the lives of people all over the country.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that story was just a marketing stunt set up by Wandering Arm¡¯s Co.,¡± Iris coldly rebukes as she fumbles to attach the thin box to her dominant hand. Clipping the bracket, a thin grin appears on her face. ¡°Was milady perhaps told propaganda as bedtime stories?¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Rira shouts with face bright red. ¡°My point still stands. This book contains concepts I can¡¯t even fathom. It could lead to a new frontier in divine magic. This magic bag clearly is giving us precious items. So, we shouldn¡¯t be disrespectful.¡±


    ¡®Ding.¡¯


    ¡°It agrees.¡± Rira reiterates with a nod before again flipping pages with another gasp.


    ¡°Since when do you speak bell.¡± Iris mutters under her breath before fiddling with the box in confusion. ¡°What even is this?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not getting much from this necklace.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an amulet!¡± Rira shouts before again turning a shade of red. ¡°Well, honestly, I don¡¯t know what it¡­ Oh.¡±


    ¡°A letter?¡± Lio confirms, lifting up the envelope and opening it carefully.


    Never expected the vast quantity of stationary in here to come of use. These more rudimentary predecessors ought to give themselves more credit. A stack of crisp parchment is much more useful than whatever a ¡®lazer gun¡¯ is.


    And while I¡¯m on the topic ¡®Mr. barbarian who left a stack of jerky and an incomprehensible letter¡¯, thank you. I have to admit, I used to be repulsed by the likely rotted meat that sat in the corner, but now that food has become a premium, this jerky is tasting better than any meal I had in the capital. Maybe even better than Heather¡¯s slice of cheese pie.


    Getting back onto subject though, the group seem to be slowly reading over the details included. I am sure the one at the bottom will be hardest for them.


    ¡°So we will have to part.¡± Lio mutters in sorrow. ¡°It¡­ You were really handy. Y¡­ Thank you for allowing us to store items inside you.¡±


    ¡°The letter said it doesn¡¯t have to be immediate.¡± Rira rationalizes. ¡°Right here, ¡¯Once you are comfortable,¡¯ so until Iris¡­¡±


    ¡®Thunk!¡¯


    Landing a bolt of magic dead center in a nearby tree Iris¡¯s face lights up in amazement.


    ¡°A¡­¡± Rira stammers before glancing down at the book in frustration. ¡°Well I know I need more time.¡±


    ¡®Ding.¡¯


    ¡°How¡¯d you do that, Iris?¡± Lio exclaims as he dashes over to the tree to inspect the damage.


    ¡°Just like it says in the letter.¡± Iris shrugs glancing once again at the box she had activated so simply. ¡°Even I wasn¡¯t expecting it. I just thought about it and¡­ Wah!¡±


    Firing a stray bullet through the air, Iris¡¯s eyes widen in shock.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± A voice that almost doesn¡¯t reach the bag mutters in shame.


    Lio, chuckling at the angry birds squawking in the distance, pats Iris¡¯s head gingerly. ¡°Practice carefully. No shooting anything living till it¡¯s like second nature.¡±


    With Rira glaring at the two with dead eyes Lio retracts his hand and returns to their packed supplies. ¡°Well, new plan I suppose. I will head to town with this stuff and sell it. You two can continue practice and reading. I will also try and get an idea of what this necklace is supposed to do while I am at it. The letter said I will get stronger by wearing it but I just don¡¯t feel a thing. Maybe its busted?¡±


    ¡°¡°You¡¯re going alone?¡±¡± Both girls ask in show of rare coordination.


    ¡°You both are busy. And from what I read even just going on a walk will make me stronger.¡± Lio concludes with a last glance at the letter set on the table between them. Lifting the bag to his back with ease, Lio turns towards the path out of the forest. ¡°So, carrying this pack to town will be my training. Any complaints?¡±


    Unable to wriggle out of training for a village date, both girls sigh and return to their prescribed tasks.


    ¡°Good.¡± Lio nods with a wide smile, the two so rarely got along, so this felt like a nice change of pace to him.


    ??¨„??¨„


    As promised when the time came, they didn¡¯t hesitate. Of course, I was a bit overzealous and waited until they were the strongest party around, I just didn¡¯t want anything to happen to them before they could protect themselves.


    As a parting gift I gave each the stereotypical items I eyed from the start. A bow for Iris, a powerful holy talisman for Rira, she seems to care more about performance than strict worship so she didn¡¯t mind its strange¨Cpossibly demonic¨Csymbolism. And last, for Lio, I choose an exquisitely crafted blade from a few generations before I was born. It was probably near the quality of what the king wore.


    Again they were ecstatic, and Rira boldly reclaimed her wisdom in treating the magic bag kindly.


    I won¡¯t say she¡¯s wrong. It surely didn¡¯t hurt my opinion of the group.


    I can¡¯t say I won¡¯t miss them. They¡¯ve given me back a bit of hope for humanity.

 16.

    Merchants are curious by nature. It¡¯s in their best interest to question everything and anything. And when a vast quantity of precious stones began appearing on the market one merchant in particular questioned it on many angles.


    Perhaps a noble family preparing for bankruptcy? But most are coming onto the market via the gem cutters. So, either they are masking their identity by altering the cuts, or these are newly unearthed stones.


    New stones imply a mine, but if that were the case why are so many different gems appearing. Not simply Sapphires or rubies, but diamonds, emeralds, and even a few unidentifiable gems have appeared on the auctions.


    Something big is happening.


    The merchant would have concluded it was an old miner coming to town for the first time in years but the frequency they have appeared told him it was something different.


    Eventually the merchant realized sitting around and watching markets would only tell him so much about the person. It was time to act.


    Hiring a team of adventurers, and paying the orphans collectively a high sum for information, they began to piece together clues. Raw gems were being carried from the local church once every three to four weeks according to the numerous ears he had hired. The question became who was giving them to the church, and where was the money from the sales going?


    Both of those lines of the complex chain were linked by a single group of orphans who called themselves ¡®the bugs¡¯. Their only demand in exchange for the answers the merchant seeked was his testimonial to any colleagues looking for similar information services. The merchant couldn¡¯t help but commend their marketing strategy and readily agreed to the boy¡¯s terms.


    The money was never leaving the church. And funnily enough they got that answer by simply asking the nun¡¯s nicely.


    A child¡¯s smile can open a lot of doors.


    As for the second answer, it came from the same source and methodology. A former employee of the church was donating them in the offering tray during mass.


    These answers, while gratefully received, didn¡¯t satisfy the merchant¡¯s questions though. It didn¡¯t answer the question of source.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    How was a former nun or priest capable of finding so many different gemstones?


    Divine magic of some sort?


    The merchant had never heard of such a use, and if there was one the church would have been a lot richer by now.


    Finally, it was time for him to find the answers himself.


    It was time to face the gods.


    ??¨„??¨„


    The following morning the merchant awoke early and prepared his finest clothes as well as an ample bag of coins as offering.


    Walking into the brisk cold of the morning he walked amongst the crowd on the way to the church.


    Riding a horse or arriving on carriage are taboo for attending church so you will even sometimes see the royals when walking like this. It¡¯s probably the only day safe enough for the royalty to do something as bold as that.


    Remembering his purpose, the merchant began scanning all the faces entering the church with him.


    Choosing a seat near the back in order to observe the entire congregation using the offering tray the man sat with eyes alert.


    Soon after he and the rest of the group settled a bell rang once indicating the start of mass. Today the priest in charge was covering the formation of the faith. A story told seemingly once a month, even the merchant who now rarely made it to mass knew the story of the holy mother¡¯s codex.


    With story winding on, the tray emerged, only for a late arrival to block his sight of the first few offerings. The merchant swore if he missed something important because of that interruption he would curse this man till the day he died.


    With a subtle glare the merchant continued watching the tray weave its way towards him. But no one seemed particularly suspicious when receiving it. Perhaps they wouldn¡¯t donate today? Maybe all the merchants questions had somehow spooked them?


    With the tray finally arriving at the merchant¡¯s grumpy frown he hesitantly drops the sizable offering into the tray before passing it to the inconsiderate man seated beside him.


    ¡°Almost missed it.¡± The man chuckles as he drops a similarly ample bag into the tray.


    The bag, striking a golden fork someone had donated splits open to reveal a fistful of sparkling stones.


    Putting a finger to his lips he glances at the merchant who witnessed the event. ¡°Shh.¡±


    ¡°Ca..!¡± The merchant begins to shout in excitement before remembering his location and continuing in a guilty whisper. ¡°May I speak with you for a few moments after the service?¡±


    ¡°I suppose we will see won¡¯t we.¡± The hooded man smiles before passing the tray to the awaiting nun and returning his attention to the speaking priest.


    ??¨„??¨„


    A mysterious magic bag, and the gift of two magic rods. Those were the only answers the merchant left with.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if he was truly satisfied though. He got his answer but now more questions remained. Was this even the truth? What sort of magic bag is this? Why did it give him such an incredible item? Does it truly give them out for free? For what purpose?


    The merchant wanted answers to all of those questions. But the faint childishness left in his soul reminded him that some things might be better left as a mystery.


    Profit be damned.

 17.

    ¡°Pretty.¡± A girl mutters polishing the gem embedded in the bundle of tattered red cloth. ¡°No, no time for pretty!¡±


    Yanking the bag with her the child scampers over an exposed tree root and burrows her body into a tight crevice of rotting wood.


    Following behind her is the sound of footsteps, and the panting breaths of multiple large four-legged creatures.


    Sensing a whimper from the girl, one of the creatures emits a low growl, summoning the others to join it at its location.


    ¡°Hold onto this tightly. Once you have it, insert your ma¡­¡± Aryn begins to instruct to the girl as he passes a slab of metal at random disregarding his rule with reckless abandon. ¡°Just focus on the feeling in your hands and shout, ¡®Get away!¡¯¡±


    I¡¯m sure she¡¯s partially in shock due to the sudden turn of events but after a very long moment I feel the weight of the sword slowly shifting. Aiding her carefully to receive the sword from out of the bag eventually the blade exits fully.


    ¡°I can¡¯t lift it up.¡± The girl again whimpers as the sounds of footsteps and growling grow closer and closer.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t, just hold the handle tightly and shout with all your feelings.¡±


    If this kid is anything like the others recently, she will have at least enough mana to activate a mana pulse. And if these are anything like demon-wolves from my era, then a mana pulse will be plenty to scare them away.


    ¡°GET AWAY! HIYA!¡± A hearty shout answers my prayers after a heart pounding moment.


    She can be excused for improvising her line. As long as she succeeds.


    And from the size of this place now, I would say she definitely fed mana into the surroundings.


    ¡°¡­¡± After waiting for as long as I could bear, I eventually ask. ¡°Everything ok?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± A confused voice answers. ¡°How¡¯d you do that? You saved my life!¡±


    ¡°You saved your own life, didn¡¯t you?¡± I counter retrieving the blade she carefully passes back.


    Oh, that could have been bad. I should be glad she didn¡¯t just keep it as her present. I¡¯ve got to be more careful about what I hand out.


    Still, to think there would be a child capable of producing a mana pulse with that sword. I was only barely able to make one and I¡¯m an almost an adult. There might just be hope after all. Maybe a hero could really be born someday.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± The girl asks interrupting my imaginings of the future.


    Oh, I suppose I did blow the whole ¡®I am a just a random magic tool¡¯ routine, huh? ¡°I¡¯m the hero¡¯s bag.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you¡­ Bag.¡± The girl giggles. ¡°I¡¯m Enola, but the mistress calls me Noel.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good name, Noel.¡± I respond with a stupid grin growing on my face. Her simple happiness is somewhat infectious. Moments ago she was facing near-death and now she is chirping without a care.


    ¡°Right!? And before she left, mom even gave me a last name like I¡¯m some fancy royal lady! Enola Reve! Doesn¡¯t it sound exotic and cool?!¡±


    ¡°It does! Enol¡­ Ah.¡± I inadvertently halt as I connect a few of the dots her mother didn¡¯t bother hiding too carefully. Enol<u>a</u> Rev<u>e</u>. The smile I was wearing moments ago quickly fades after the realization occurs.


    What a harsh person, she couldn¡¯t even stop herself at just the one scar.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you start heading back home? It¡¯s obviously dangerous out here.¡± I prompt to get my mind off the marks her parents had left on her.


    ¡°Hmm. I guess I can finish for the day early. I didn¡¯t find quiet enough, but I suppose you make up for it, Bag.¡± With another giggle Noel begins heading back towards the road to town.


    ¡°What was it that you were looking for?¡± I absently ask as small feet slowly carry us towards her village.


    ¡°When the peddlers come to town I trade them pressed flowers for coins. I was hoping if I came this far, I would find something unique.¡±


    ¡°Saving up for something?¡±


    ¡°Nope, mistress uses the money to keep me and the rest of the kids happy and healthy. It¡¯s not cheap, I have to get five flowers finished a day or it starts getting cold at night for everyone. Firewood¡¯s expensive.¡± Noel gripes as she inspects the two flowers she had managed today.


    Looking at one of the many white gold coins littering the floor I almost vomit in pure embarrassment.


    Lifting one I begin to ask myself if it is really that simple though.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Is the mistress from the church?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s the town mom.¡± Noel earnestly responds as the sound of her feet begins echoing off cobbles. ¡°Most of her kids are grown up and in the army, or living in the capital, but she has three who help out and watch the younger kids and babies. There will be another soon she says. I can¡¯t wait, I wonder if it will be a boy or girl.¡±


    I¡­ I Think I understand.


    How do I ask this without scaring a child? Then again does the answer even matter? I suppose it doesn¡¯t but¡­


    ¡°Is the mistress the only adult you all live with? She¡¯s not married?¡±


    ¡°Nope, but sometimes when the army marches through some of them will spend the night since it¡¯s the only house with lots of open bedrooms.¡±


    Alright that¡¯s enough.


    ¡°But lately the mistress is more tired than usual, she sleeps alot. I wonder if she¡¯s getting sick.¡±


    What does a child do to deserve this kind of life? What kind of kingdom lets villages like this exist?


    ¡°We¡¯ll be there soon,¡± Noel eagerly chimes as she continues down the road. ¡°I will show you my house.¡±


    Her house?


    ??¨„??¨„


    From her description, shack or shed might have been more apt I suppose, but she is a child. And something this size is probably luxurious for someone her age.


    ¡°Over here is my table where I can practice letters and eat.¡± Continuing the tour without minding my thoughts Noel leads me outside without realizing my inability to see. ¡°The fire pit over there is too big so I made this out of rocks and some scrap metal from Dago¡¯s shop.¡±


    Again with the infectious eagerness. Her outgoing nature is even more significant considering her living conditions.


    ¡°Noel? You here?¡± A voice from the front of the shack calls.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s Pat. He brings meat sometimes. He¡¯s the butcher.¡± Noel explains as she skips around the building. ¡°Hi Pat! What¡¯s for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Afternoon Noel.¡± The man kindly echoes patting Noels head gingerly. ¡°Yesterday everything but tongue sold, but I know your thoughts on that, so I splurged a bit. Voila, pork shank cubes for the little lady.¡±


    ¡°Yay, thanks Pat! I¡¯m hosting a new friend so I was hoping you would bring something great!¡± With voice muffling from the wide hug she readily gave, Noel thanks the man earnestly.


    ¡°I see. Good luck then.¡± Pat responds with a chuckle before setting off towards town.


    ¡°He had more food. I bet he was headed towards the Linkon¡¯s house.¡± Noel mutters as she watches the man head off. ¡°Pat gives away food a lot. He¡¯s really nice, but he always gets angry at the mistress, and then they both cry. It¡¯s sad.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± I force in response. Probably even more than you can imagine, Noel. Quickly though, to change the subject. ¡°You said you were hosting you didn¡¯t mean you planned to¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m cooking for you too. It¡¯d be rude not to.¡± Noel reasons adamantly before questioning her own motives a bit. ¡°Even if you are a bag¡­ You have to eat./?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You have to eat, after all.¡± Noel answers with more confidence this time around.


    With no more debate, and a distinct lack of any of the jerky that once kept me going, it was decided that we would share a meal together.


    ??¨„??¨„


    This routine continued for weeks. Other than the adventurers, I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve ever been able to stay awake this long. And even with the adventurers they were trading off the duty once they grew exhausted. But Noel doesn¡¯t get tired.


    I¡¯ve asked. She claims she is fine, and she won¡¯t let me go, even for a moment.


    It can¡¯t be healthy for a child. I¡¯ve seen first hand with Jiro the effect a magic tool can have on a developing human.


    Since it¡¯s out of my control I will leave it to her to decide but I will have to put my foot down at some point.


    There is another thing I have noticed about Noel.


    She refuses my gifts. She won¡¯t take anything.


    I can¡¯t understand the logic behind it.


    At one point a couple days passed with her not receiving any of the firewood her flower collecting job was supposed to be paying for.


    Of course, she continued to collect and sell the pressed goods as well as delivering the money to her increasingly delirious mistress. But the agreement was basic necessities including firewood and clothes. And now neither of those were being filled.


    She doesn¡¯t earn pennies for these flower pressings either, they are proper prices for proper handcrafts.


    Returning to the story, yesterday I tossed a chunk of coal I found in one of the crates stacked in the corner onto the ground beside her bed, but the following morning I received it back with no explanation.


    If she won¡¯t even accept something to keep her warm at night how am I supposed to give her enough money to get the hell out of this place?


    One coin would give her a life she deserves, but she wouldn¡¯t even take it if I offered, and I can¡¯t understand why.


    On a side note, the meals she makes are pretty good. Maybe it¡¯s just the fact that I haven¡¯t eaten anything substantial since the king¡¯s party, what was it, maybe six thousand years ago?


    I¡¯ll say one thing; the flavor of peppered steak hasn¡¯t changed much.


    At least I have one constant.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Back to the deep section of the forest again. Does this girl never learn?


    I suppose its her job. But still, completely unarmed, she ventures back to the forest day after day. I am here now, but there is only so much I can do as a non-corporeal voice.


    ¡°Will you let me carry the flowers this time at least.¡± I again beg for the fifth consecutive trip. ¡°They will be in better condition when you press them. It will be like they were picked moments before.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Himming and hawing to herself eventually Noel relents before quickly yanking the flower pedal from my reach once again. ¡°If¡­ If you give this back does it count as me taking something from you?¡±


    ¡°According to the definition, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what you are referring to, is it?¡± I suspiciously sniff, noticing the very specific wording. ¡°Spill it.¡±


    ¡°Y¡­¡± Again hesitating with flower in hand like a panicked maiden Noel thinks over her words. ¡°You¡¯re the magic bag who gives a gift and disappears, right? Like in the stories? So if you give these flowers back, will you disappear?¡±


    Ah.


    So, I¡¯ve become that type of myth?


    ¡°I won¡¯t disappear because of something as simple as that. The gift I want to give you should be much better than a handful of little flowers.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Noel growls in anger at my diss of her livelihood.


    ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t mean it like that. They are pretty. But I want to give you something you wish for more than anything, not a few flowers. There¡¯s no way I would disappear that easily.¡± I comfort with a bitter smile. So, it was something like that all this time?


    ¡°I get to laugh and talk while we eat.¡± Noel plainly says as the flowers appear through the wall and tumble into my awaiting palm. ¡°So, you¡¯ve already given me my wish.¡±


    Laughing and tugging me toward the next patch of wildflowers Noel wasn¡¯t aware of my deepening confliction.


    How can I ever tell this girl to throw me away? It¡¯s how it must be, but I already know it will break my heart.


    She¡¯s not aware of the darker legend revolving around me, the ones only I could be aware of. She doesn¡¯t know what keeping me will bring to her, and I can¡¯t bear to tell her.

 18.

    I suppose the mana I was stealing from her eventually caught up. For the first time in nearly three weeks Noel ventured far enough away from the bag for it to collapse in on me. Despite typically loathing the sensation, it was a welcome change of pace, and I didn¡¯t think Noel would be gone for too long.


    Sure enough, when my eyes did eventually open once again, her voice was just as clear and cheerful as the day she found me. She was quick to ask if I had been lonely without her. Unwilling to hurt the feelings of the child I of course explain that it was ¡®nearly unbearable¡¯.


    With a giggle in return Noel began explaining her day. On orders of the mistress Noel lead a few children around the forest and showed them ways to contribute like she does. Collecting nuts for the livestock, flower pressing, even ways to best find usable kindling no matter the season.


    Noel is truly a jack-of-all-trades it seems, but apparently she enjoys flower pressing the most, and it can¡¯t hurt that it¡¯s probably the most profitable.


    ¡°The new boy almost got lost on the way back but luckily we found him before it got too late.¡± Noel concludes as her story winds to its end.


    ¡°There¡¯s new orph¡­¡± I begin to say before thinking better of my words. ¡°A new kid moved in?¡±


    ¡°Yep, I guess he showed up a few days ago.¡± Noel ponders before returning her attention forward. ¡°That¡¯s the only bad part about living here. I never know what is happening in the big house.¡±


    ¡°Is he younger or older?¡±


    ¡°Around my age.¡± Noel plainly states as she bangs a handful of rocks together to prep the cooking fire.


    ¡°Well it will be good to have someone your age to hang out with.¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± Noel shrugs noncommittally, ¡°He¡¯s kind of rude. Sara told me, that the reason I was teaching them today was because Rhun kept pulling pranks on the mistress, he even made all the babies cry at the same time.¡±


    Noel seemed particularly peeved when she mentioned the latter. I suppose that is unforgiveable in a certain sense.


    So Rhun is his name? I suppose its not as bad as Noel¡¯s given name, but it still doesn¡¯t feel lika a name you give a child.


    Parents these days.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Competing forces, like the drafts that form a hurricane, pulling and tugging in opposite directions they eventually collide to create a storm. Sometimes they can be seemingly cataclysmic forces, like the ocean and the drafts which form a tsunami, but sometimes they can be mundane forces in either case the storm can still cause damage.


    The forces; Noel¡¯s desire to monopolize me, and Noel¡¯s desire to fulfill the expectations of those around her.


    The storm; This exact moment.


    I suppose I understand now why she was reluctant to bring me with her the first time she and the rest of the orphans went to the forest.


    The moment the kids laid eyes on her, and better yet, me, the ruckus was seemingly incessant. ¡®Where¡¯d you get that?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s pretty.¡¯ ¡®Is that a gemstone? It¡¯s huge!¡¯ The questions were nonstop. And this is all before Noel had even mentioned that it was magic.


    At that point she logically kept that to herself, much to my appreciation.


    With answers to all the non-rhetorical questions given. Finally, Noel began to lead them towards the forest.


    From time to time she would point out a tree with a burnable bark, or an edible mushroom that warms your belly. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she could live out here if she had to.


    I understand now why she doesn¡¯t just leave. I suppose I always suspected it but to these children she¡¯s a reliable big sister, a mom even, despite being no older than most of them. It would take something monumental in order to make her leave this place for another home.


    It¡¯s not as if there isn¡¯t enough money for all of them to leave. Even a single coin could buy them all a life of luxury for decades.


    Historic value alone, one of these coins has got to be worth a fortune.


    ¡°OK, I am going to search ahead for some flowers. Those who want to find kindling follow Sarah. For the ground nut crew, Ken, can you watch over them?¡±


    ¡°Roger!¡± The boy responds with a salute before dashing off with a few younger kids in tow.


    I¡¯ve become a real champ at detecting fluctuations in the mana fields around the bag. It¡¯s almost like being able to see outside. Of course, I don¡¯t see detail, I don¡¯t know what Noel or the rest of the children look like, but how they are moving or their height is as easy as feeling the density and reflections of their individual pulses.


    I think I first noticed it with the adventurer team, after getting intimately familiar with each of their individual mana quantities, I began to notice them even when they weren¡¯t holding me directly.


    I never expected I¡¯d get used to this life.


    But I won¡¯t claim it isn¡¯t handy now that I can apply it.


    ¡°You¡¯re coming to find flowers too?¡± Noel asks glancing at the footsteps sounding behind her.


    ¡°You said it¡¯s the best way to help.¡± A lisped voice answers without pause.


    So this is Rhun? If it were any of the others I can¡¯t imagine her voice would have been so distant.


    Noel, now beaming at the realization that he was listening, quietly nods to herself before pointing to a shaded area under a tree trunk. ¡°That is ¡®queen¡¯s gold¡¯, but it doesn¡¯t sell to well anymore because of politics or something, so let¡¯s keep looking.¡±


    ¡°Mhm¡± Rhun nods as he follows her deeper onto the game trail.


    Eventually the two came across the real prize, ¡®crystal blooms¡¯. As they carefully pick, and Noel carelessly places flowers into the hero¡¯s vessel, finally Rhun¡¯s real interest comes out.


    ¡°Where did you say you found that?¡± The boy asks curiously with a finger towards me.


    Tugging the bag closer from where it sat on the ground Noel reluctantly starts her answer. ¡°I was¡­¡±


    ¡°I actually lost a bag, it looked just like that one, with the huge gem and all.¡± Rhun earnestly explains inching closer to Noel to pick a patch that sat between them.


    ¡°You di¡­¡±


    ¡°Give me it.¡± Rhun growls this time. ¡°I want it back.¡±


    ¡°N¡­ No.¡± Noel mutters hesitantly before repeating it with a shout. ¡°NO!¡±


    ¡°WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH¡­¡±


    As much as I¡¯d like to say it was Rhun having the meltdown, life simply isn¡¯t that comical. The cry was coming from where they had left the other two groups.


    Finding the moment perfect Noel tosses one last flower into my hand before sprinting towards the new situation.


    Laying the flowers out on a tray I found, I can only patiently await what happens next. Perhaps that is the real hell of being stuck in here, I can only ever be an observer of that world.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Does it not taste good?¡± Noel whimpers, interrupting the silence between us as we ate.


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed, ¡°It¡¯s good, I like it. I was just lost in thought, sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Noel sighs in relief with a grin. ¡°What were you thinking about?¡±


    Nothing good. Uncertifiably familiar feelings of discomfort. But nothing I am sure enough about to speak aloud.


    ¡°Do you think trees feel pain when we cut them down, or are they happy to turn into something as incredible as a flame?¡±


    Of course, these are completely conflicting questions, but it should do well enough to chase her off my tail.


    Indeed with a wooden fork now scraping her head in confliction Noel tries to answer even half. ¡°W¡­ Huh. Maybe, coal is better? But who¡¯s to say rocks can¡¯t feel? Then again, aren¡¯t most rocks just fragments of much larger r¡­ Huh¡­¡±


    Of course, the ¡®rock hivemind¡¯ theory. A classic.


    Who¡¯s using who? Wake up sheeple.


    ¡°Oh! The candle!¡± Quickly puffing a breath towards a nearby bedside table to extinguish the flame, Noel sighs in relief. ¡°That was close, I¡¯ll have to grab some fur blossom roots tomorrow. Don¡¯t let me forget.¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± jotting the name down in a notepad and underlining it Noel begins her bedtime preparation.


    Locking the door carefully by touch, swapping her shirt and finally scrubbing her teeth with dried pine needles and a foamy sap.


    I honestly can¡¯t imagine, but she swears by it.


    Eventually, she lunges into bed and tugs the bag hanging at her waist into her arms. Clutching it dearly, she doesn¡¯t ever immediately close her eyes. Its rare for her to fall asleep less than an hour after blowing out the candle. There¡¯s something she would apparently much rather do.


    ¡°Today was kind of scary I think.¡± Noel mutters in a voice low enough that I couldn¡¯t have typically heard her.


    ¡°Scary, how?¡± I return, curious of her opinion on the event.  I know how the bloodlust in the mana felt, but what did she feel.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She admits in honest confusion. ¡°Rhun is only pulling pranks to get attention, I know he isn¡¯t a bad person. But he shouldn¡¯t lie like that, honestly he was kinda scary. I wanted to run away. Does that make me a bad person?¡±


    Maybe that really is all it was? But it doesn¡¯t discount the efforts.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with disliking someone. Kindness, unlike a river, must flow both directions to work. You can¡¯t be expected to source it all yourself. There¡¯s only so many chances you can give.¡±


    ¡°When is ¡®too many¡¯ though.¡± Noel mutters halfheartedly.


    ¡°That¡¯s for you to decide, I think. Remember, you are young, so it¡¯s okay to make mistakes sometimes. It¡¯s even okay to be a bad person if you feel like you need to. Sometimes, doing what everyone around you doesn¡¯t want you to do, is the right thing.¡±


    ¡°In that case, tomorrow I am taking the day off with you.¡± Noel laughs sleepily. Slacking her eyes momentarily I feel the mana flowing into me begin to soften with her breathing.


    Flipping open a book with that calm pressing in on me a sudden jolt nearly knocks me out of my seat.


    ¡°You¡­ You won¡¯t disappear, will you Bag?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    ¡°How can you promise that?¡± Noel rightly notes with any tiredness now vanished from her tone.


    ¡°If someone tries to take me from you, I will stop them with my magic.¡±


    ¡°Promise?¡± Noel asks, lifting me from her lap as if to look me in the eye.


    ¡°Promise.¡±


    ??¨„??¨„


    The following day as promised Noel took the day off, amazingly she had saved up a multitude of extra pressed flowers for just such an occasion, so her income flow wasn¡¯t even impacted by the break.


    With Bag in tow Noel walked all around town meeting with all the friendly faces she saw.


    Concluding the outing with the thrill of finding venison tendons at Pat¡¯s butcher shop, Noel returned home smiling.


    That night, as Noel drifted to sleep after a particularly filling meal, she felt no terrible premonitions, no strokes of panic. Thoughts from the night before passing, a grin plastered her face as her eyes shut.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Okay. But you have to listen to what I say. If it gets dangerous and I say run, you run. Okay?¡± Noel explains to the figure on the opposite side of the doorway.


    Rhun, forming a smile nods in affirmation.


    So, he wants to make more money and get a situation like Noel¡¯s? I suppose if he is used to living with fewer people a sudden move to a crowded orphanage overnight would be hard to handle. But his way of accomplishing that involves pestering Noel for lessons.


    There¡¯s nothing particularly wrong with his methods, but his way of asking could be a little more genuine.


    Banging on the door first thing in the morning and demanding to be brought into the forest to find flowers wouldn¡¯t exactly be considered a polite way of asking for help. But, Noel being the person she was, would never outright reject a plea for assistance.


    Chaining me to her belt tightly, Noel ruffles her hair before shutting the door firmly behind her.


    With Rhun in tow Noel begins pointing out different potential wildflower locations that will come into bloom throughout the coming year.


    ¡°This spot is good in winter,¡± Noel points out with a finger towards a patch of tall grass. ¡°Fire lilies are usually heavily demanded too. Religious people seem to think they are good luck. But you have to remember to never harvest the entire cluster or else they won¡¯t come back.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Rhun nods absently as they continue.


    Once we get to the river the options widen as she ceaselessly points out one flower after the next. White Thronds that occasionally float down the river, King Ibory which blooms at the top of the hard to climb trees, they even spotted an Oaqua fruit that had been left over by the birds.


    Smooshing it up with her thumb and offering one part to Rhun ¨CAnd another, stealthier, to me¨C Noel sighs in content joy while savoring the chunk of juicy red fruit. When this is your job, I suppose a day off like yesterday really doesn¡¯t mean much.


    Plucking a few of the Thronds that drift by and depositing them to me Noel begins working as usual while keeping watch over Rhun.


    Watching him roughly grapple up a nearby tree after spotting a tall Ibory stalk Noel nods in approval.


    Finding a particularly good grouping of Butterfly blossoms Noel begins to venture further down the rivers flood plain.


    She¡¯s on a roll. I¡¯ve been flower picking with her countless times but we¡¯ve never found a haul quiet like this. I suppose we are a bit further out than we typically go. I think Noel wanted to show him every patch she hits even if it meant venturing past the spot where she encountered the wolves. Perhaps this would excuse her of ever needing to lead the boy around again. Although the security of being with another person probably isn¡¯t hurting her confidence to venture further.


    ¡°Rhun?¡±


    And then that security vanishes.


    Looking down at me to assure herself he hadn¡¯t done anything malicious Noel again makes the loud plea. ¡°Rhun? Where are you?¡±


    This time running back in the direction of the trail and scanning the tree he had been climbing she noticed the flowers were indeed gone. Did he already go back?


    ¡°Bag.¡± She this time pleads turning her attention to me. ¡°He¡¯s gone¡­ What do I do?¡±


    ¡°Take a look further down the river, he might have spotted another¡­¡± I began to reason while peeking carefully at the flows of mana coming from around the hero¡¯s vessel. ¡°Noel, run.¡±


    ¡°Wh¡­¡±


    ¡°RUN!¡± I shout this time, feeling mana coming closer from every angle. She¡¯s completely encircled.


    Following my command without another moment of hesitation Noel sprints down the gravel path of the rivers bank.


    ¡°What is¡­¡± Noel again starts to ask before distinctly hearing human voices behind her.


    Bandits this close to town? What kind of security does this place have?


    From the flow of mana it seems like she has properly slipped the encirclement but they aren¡¯t far off her trail.


    ¡°Could you get back to town from here?¡± I ask, well aware of how far away the trail is.


    I should really know better than to doubt Noel though.


    ¡°If I cross the river and cut through the forest I¡¯d meet up with a road.¡± Noel pants through strides, glancing over her shoulder with every free moment. ¡°But what about Rhun? What if they already¡­¡±


    ¡°Worry about that when you aren¡¯t being chased.¡± I remind her trying to reign in my own rapidly beating heart.


    I knew it would somehow come down to this.


    ¡°The wolves¡­ Can you give me¡­¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that. It¡¯s useless here. Maybe it will blind them for a second or disorient them a bit, but they aren¡¯t demons, so the effect¡­¡± Trying to explain the hero¡¯s sword and the uses of a mana pulse rapidly to Noel, my eyes scan across a glass bottle similar to the one I gave Heather. ¡°Open the flap of the bag and point the mouth behind you. Whatever you do don¡¯t stop running, and don¡¯t look back.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Hesitating a moment Noel¡¯s mana eventually shifts to directly beside me. Noticing the hints of light penetrating the wall of the bag I ignite a rag stuffed into the bottle and throw it at the wall.


    Feeling the morbid explosion from behind and hearing a few agonizing screams, Noel gasps in fear. ¡°Y¡­¡±


    ¡°Just keep running!¡±


    But there¡¯s no way a kid can keep outrunning this many adults though. As fast as Noel is, her endurance isn¡¯t nearly that of an adult male. And she still must cross the river. This is impossible.


    ¡°Noel is there somewhere nearby where you can cross the river easily?¡±


    Panting harder than before Noel looks up the river not minding the shouts of the pursuers on her tail. ¡°Up there, there¡¯s a group of rocks that I could probably climb across. But the water is fast.¡±


    ¡°Run into the forest now!¡±


    Again following my command Noel turns on a dime and dives into a nearby shrub, disappearing into the thick brush of the overgrown trees and grasses.


    ¡°Spread out!¡± A shout behind comes as the kidnappers follow the path of crushed grasses Noel left in her wake.


    ¡°What now?¡± Noel whispers from nestled deep in another tree¡¯s exposed roots.


    ¡°Can you see those rapids you mentioned before from here?¡± I return quietly after finishing the preparations on my side.


    ¡°Mhm, barely but I wouldn¡¯t get there fast enough. They would¡­¡±


    ¡°I have a plan. But you won¡¯t like it.¡± I explain with the metal grip chilling my hands.


    ¡°Tell me what to do.¡± Noel obediently whimpers in clear terror.


    ¡°Throw me.¡± I state simply in order to let the statement sink in. ¡°Once you do, I will shout, that¡¯s your cue to run. Understood?¡±


    ¡°N¡­ No.¡± Noel denies after realizing the seriousness of my statement. ¡°That won¡¯t¡­ That¡¯s¡­ I won¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°No hesitating.¡± I say with a hand to my face. ¡°You knew this day would come just like I did. I¡¯ll count to three.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°One.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Two.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Three.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Still clutching me carefully Noel quietly murmurs words I couldn¡¯t deserve. ¡°Thank you, for everything.¡±


    Heartily throwing the hero¡¯s vessel with her remaining might Noel wipes a tear from her eye as she tucks back into the root mass.


    With the bag collapsing in on me, I use my remaining consciousness to release the mana pulse I had charged in the hero¡¯s sword.


    The bag, now massive, but quickly shrinking, makes the perfect chamber to amplify my voice.  ¡°OY! OVER HERE!¡±


    Sounds of rustling brush began coming from all directions.


    Perfectly timed, that will completely mask her escape.


    ¡°I FOUND HER!¡± I add for extra realism as the bag finally runs out of the mana I provided artificially.


    Come to think of it, doesn¡¯t this disprove Hea¡­

 19.

    Stupid bag, cutting into my thought like that is so rude. Now I can¡¯t even pick it up if I wanted. Its like one of those memories from right before you fall asleep. Even if you do your best recalling it will always be next to impossible.


    This anger feels odd.


    Who the hell woke me up?


    ¡°This should do great as an invitation.¡±


    With a splatter of chunks striking my face a new item appeared into the bag landing cleanly on my lap.


    Far from the flowers seated on the tray beside me, is the decapitated head of what looks like an obese bandit of some strange make, that is now resting on my knee.


    Should I count my blessing that most of the blood seems to have already drained and crusted? It feels like an empty thing to be happy about.


    Nudging the head with a nearby ball of fabric it tumbles to the floor unceremoniously. Wrapping it in that same fabric and lugging it towards and edge of the bag I return to the place I typically sit with a weary expression.


    ¡°Kark, Loid, we are leaving! Grab whatever you want, we are burning this place down.¡±


    So, there is more than one? But how did I get from the forest to here? Again the vagueness of the times when I receive very little amount of mana is a curse. At least when you are asleep, moving will wake you up, but if I¡¯m handled properly I won¡¯t even realize I am being moved. I¡¯m a single thick leather bag away from never seeing the light of day again. But what¡¯s new I suppose.


    Atleast Noel properly escaped.


    Didn¡¯t she? I could defiently feel her slipping past the group that were rushing towards me, but past that is all hazy.


    She definitely escaped. She¡¯s smart.


    She crossed the river as the kidnappers closed in on me, she made it back to the trail during the confusion and then finally got back to town. I¡¯m sure in the days after she must have looked for me. I can¡¯t imagine how she took it, losing¡­


    Ah, perhaps I can imagine.


    Maybe I am one of the few who could understand that sense of immense loss.


    This is why I didn¡¯t want to get attached. This is why I didn¡¯t want to become friends with anyone on the outside. I was careful with the adventurers, the priest, and all the countless others afterwards. What is it about Noel that weakened my barrier?


    Was it because she treated me as human from the start?


    Truly a strange girl, I was never an ¡®it¡¯, she was even willing to call me by a name.


    Maybe in someway she reminded me of Lotil? She was probably around the same age as when Lotil and I met. Although personality wise I would say they were almost polar opposites at that age, but they both shared that limitless drive underneath it all.


    Come to think of it, those drastic personality differences were probably behaviors taught by their environment. I¡¯d wager if their two lives had been swapped almost none of the content would change.


    But I suppose I shouldn¡¯t speak as if an expert on the topic.


    In all honesty, I just want to think of anything in order to distract me from the sound of shallow screams coming from the burning fortress these monsters are walking away from.


    If I had anything more in my stomach I might puke. Should I call myself lucky?


    ??¨„ ??¨„


    ¡°So, you geezers going to allow us to the table or what?¡± The most talkative of the group, Fet, boisterously babbles while holding the crusty head of the old boss by a lock of hair.


    ¡°Ted.¡± A man seated at the table quietly murmurs in response without a single glance.


    Three pulses in quick succession again turn the small bag into a colosseum before reeling back in to a more average size.


    Oh, ok.


    Again the only man amongst the three who had spoken emits the same word once again. ¡°Ted.¡±


    This time Ted checks the pockets and pouches of each corpse. Finding nothing dangerous nearby I lazily hand him the blood-soaked rag to appease the rummaging hand.


    Bringing the gold, jewelry and other stolen item to his owner Ted returns to his post against the door almost mindlessly.


    Of course, their attention quickly directed to me much to Ted¡¯s silent joy.


    ¡°Not sure of the make. Could be black-market works.¡± The lanky man thumbing at my red gem pants in intrigue.


    ¡°Well Zeke if you don¡¯t recognize it I¡¯d guess it¡¯s not black-market.¡± The woman ¨Capparently¨C at the end of the table smirks before turning a glance back to the bag. ¡°Could be something new on market? Maybe that ooze-brained Gubg robbed some nobles before kicking the bucket.¡±


    ¡°Have a bit of respect for the fourth.¡± Ted¡¯s owner mutters with a bow of his head and some odd religious gesture.


    ¡°Tsk.¡± The woman spits breath with a roll of her eyes. ¡°You are just as glad that beef-bone is dead as I am. Quit hiding behind piteous nonsense, Charles. It¡¯s not a great look on you.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll let my wife decide what¡¯s a good look on me, but thank you dearly for the critique Helta, I¡¯ll be sure to take it to heart.¡± Charles grins in response before turning attention back to Zeke who gingergly prodded at the fabric and chain making up the bag. ¡°Any insights?¡±


    ¡°I hate to say it, but I really think we should take it to them.¡± Zeke eventually sighs in resignation. ¡°They¡¯re the only ones who¡¯d know what its capable of. And for some reason I have a feeling we¡¯d be in a lot of trouble if we didn¡¯t handle it properly.¡±


    You¡¯re god-damn right.


    Reach your hands in. I dare you. I¡¯ve got an axe ready for the first appendage I see. And then the next one can help me test if the green stuff in this bottle is toxic to the touch. My money is on ¡®yes¡¯.


    Sorry in advance Ted, but you are no exception next time.


    ??¨„??¨„


    I really didn¡¯t expect them to stick with ¡®Zeke¡¯s¡¯ words. But true to them, not a single finger even grazed the event horizon of the bag. I really thought they would sneakily try to steal me from each other, bandits that they are, but strangely they seem smart¡­ or at least smarter than that.


    It does explain their apparent positions in the criminal world. Zeke, controlling a majority of magic tool counterfeiting, Helta, who controls the production of all drugs throughout the country, and Charles, the pope of the Heavenly Light Chur¡­ Cult.


    They couldn¡¯t have gotten to their positions by taking risks. And that includes with mysterious magic items.


    I guess even in my day, as nobility, we were taught not to carelessly touch strange magic devices in fear that they might be explosive devices or otherwise hazardous to our health. A trojan horse¨Can immortal method of attack¨C mask a weapon as something benign, or even beneficial. What better way to sneak an attack behind strong defenses?


    But there are more important things for me to focus on aren¡¯t there?


    Where are they taking me?


    As smart as they may be, they aren¡¯t insulating me from their mana, so I am atleast conscious enough to hear them when they speak.


    Or, I could hear them atleast, if they were talking at all.


    It really feels like these people don¡¯t get along nearly as much as it appeared when seated around the table. Perhaps its something about where they are going that¡¯s clamming them up.


    In any case, with this much bland time forced upon me what better of a time to catch up on my reading.


    I finished a handful of novels I found, and now I¡¯m struggling through an old magic textbook.


    There¡¯s no comprehendible date on it so there¡¯s no telling of the quality of its magic knowledge. But the pictures are good, and I¡¯m honestly still a bit of a child at heart.


    Have I turned seventeen yet?


    How would I even gauge that?


    Setting the thought aside reluctantly, I return to the reading. The topic is an interesting one, so it outweighs normal distractions. Projection was the name of the chapter title. And the first paragraph felt like it was written for me.


    [Projection, is the ability for a soul to wander in known locations. By grasping at the prints of mana written in memories, its even possible to view inaccessible locations millions of miles away.]


    It goes on to explain how, [Many people inadvertently Project while dreaming, this presents itself in the form of an ¡®out-of-body experience¡¯, this in itself proves the ease of Projection, with proper practice even novice magicians or beginners] like me, [could learn it.] Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Couldn¡¯t I, with practice, project a view of outside of the bag?


    The only flaw I can see is that I have no memory of the location I am currently in. It¡¯s possible I do, but I have no way of confirming it either way.


    I remember what the bag looks like, but I doubt that counts. Perhaps I could use the mana signatures I can feel from inside the bag, but for now I should stick with tried methods.


    The book suggests choosing a single location you remember well to practice with.


    I can only think of a single location fitting that description off the top of my head.


    The cave exit.


    A horrible, but still vivid, memory of the outside world.


    The book continues its explanation on how one should practice. Put simply, you induce a partial sleep state. It suggests a few teas capable of the task as well as an herbal pill.


    What are the chances I¡¯d have the ingredients you ask?


    A month ago; Zero.


    Today; One hundred percent.


    Noel, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me for borrowing a handful of  Accia Avita or, butterfly blossoms as you call them. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t touch the Thronds, because I¡¯m half sure they are the main ingredient in whatever thugs like Helta were selling to your mistress.


    ??¨„ ??¨„


    Four attempts later and I did indeed have an out-of-body experience. Unfortunately, it was extremely short and I could only recognize a single detail from my past to reinforce that it was in fact the place I thought it was.


    A tiny shimmer of light reflecting off something clear and crystalline. The whole area had become forest, and the orb itself was mostly covered in ferns and dirt but I¡¯d recognize that place anytime.


    The heart of the city still beats.


    Wow that¡¯s corny.


    I can¡¯t help but remain proud though. I really thought any fragment of my past had long vanished by now, but that might not be entirely the case after all.


    ¡­


    I won¡¯t say I want it, but¡­


    It belongs in this bag. That¡¯s all.


    Stirring another pot of tea with water taken from an infinity flask, I quickly gulp it down while hesitating between memories.


    Exit cave.


    The drowsiness setting in I remember the flames and smell of bile in my throat, I focus in on everything I felt back then, the fear, the pain, the confusion most of all.


    I recognize the sensation now, my body feeling light suddenly I feel my connection disconnect as the darkness in my vision is replaced by a dip in forested land. A rock outcropping on one edge of the gully almost brought tears to my eyes, but I was able to reign in my emotions enough to continue looking around.


    Only to come face to face with a scowling mug surrounded by two other, almost comically, ugly figures.


    Impossible.


    Completely impossible.


    But echoing voices confirm my theory.


    ¡°Let¡¯s camp here for the night. We don¡¯t want cross the ruins at night without more backup.¡±


    With the voice and mouth matching perfectly, the sheer shock of the coincidence of it all ripped me from the partial dream-state.


    Almost cursing aloud in amazement, I simply shake my head instead.


    Maybe instead of clamming up, I should have some fun.


    Yeah. That seems fitting.


    Where¡¯d that voice changer go? I think the third setting was the cool one? Or do I go with a more eerie two?


    Ah, if only I could watch them while I¡¯m doing this. That would be the icing on the cake.


    Do I wait till morning or¡­


    No, I have to do it tonight, they will have already planned the day tomorrow and won¡¯t be easily maneuvered. If I do it tonight they will discuss it while eating.


    Show time.


    With the three of them and Ted all separated evenly around the packs where I sat amongst the other luggage, the conditions were perfect.


    Rapidly changing the settings I sip from the flask before clearing my throat quietly. ¡°¡­ You four! Are you able to hear me? Are you worthy of my treasure?¡±


    ¡°Who¡­?¡± Ted first mutters followed by similar statements from the others.


    ¡°You are able to hear me? So there is one of pure heart amongst you? Good. You may be suitable candidates yet.¡± I loudly continue with the echo booming around them.


    ¡°Candidates for what?¡± Zeke asks with head glancing in all directions carefully.


    ¡°My kingdom lay here many generations ago. As the strongest king my riches were beyond belief, so grand that a magic vault need be made. One as strong as me. So a particular mage offered to connect my soul to the lock. ¡®So long as I live the vault would open for no man.¡¯ The magician stated boldly to me. But I now fear he may have tricked me.¡±


    Zeke who still couldn¡¯t find the source of the sounds perked up with the story about magic. The other¡¯s, at the mere word ¡®vault¡¯.


    ¡°Your soul is trapped here until the vault is opened you mean?¡± Zeke deciphers from my meager hints.


    Good boy.


    Let¡¯s continue.


    ¡°Indeed. And my own stubbornness won¡¯t allow me to see its riches go to someone wretched in heart.¡± I continue with a drop in my tone. ¡°Over time my words began to not even fall on evil hearts.¡±


    ¡°Well I suppose since we can¡­¡± Charles begins to input, completely dropping the tent stake in favor of the story of treasure.


    I thought these people were a bit more intelligent but maybe I was far off.


    Interrupting his joy I quickly add the caveat they all feared. ¡°I will nonetheless conduct a proper examination of character with a few simple questions. In order to gauge your chance of swaying to darkness.¡±


    The three now grumbling, and the still silently awestruck Ted patiently awaited my next words.


    ¡°Decide amongst yourself if you are willing to take the test. If any of you agree, I will lead you to the vault¡¯s location.¡±


    Now we wait.


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Nevermind, then.


    Still they can¡¯t be aware of how far away it is. It would probably be an hour or two by foot. ¡°The path is treacherous, I advise you bring your supplies.¡±


    ¡°TED!¡± Charles shouts, ¡°Get the stuff packed and catch up to us.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s atleast eat first.¡± Helta moans with an arm clutching her stomach uncomfortably.


    ¡°TREASURE!?¡± Charles again shouts, this time towards Helta¡¯s unmotivated figure.


    Helta, rolling her eyes as she plucks a log of sausage from a pack she slipped from Ted¡¯s back, eventually responds, ¡°It¡¯s not going nowhere, right ghost?¡±


    With a long silence Helta begins to waddle back to her makeshift seat amongst the stone rubble of the cave exit.


    ¡°Right?¡± She again repeats after swallowing the bite of sausage.


    ¡°Correct.¡± I affirm, now that I am sure she is far enough away from the bag not to realize my voice¡¯s source.


    Ted, who¡¯s back I was now strapped too, leaped a bit when my voice rang out into his ear but it did little more than amuse the three thugs.


    ??¨„??¨„


    As the group of four continued walking, and the language of their conversation suddenly flipped I had to struggle to activate the translator in time. But I caught enough to understand the words.


    Just where had these three learned demon tongue? And why were they using it to speak behind me and Ted¡¯s back. Literally.


    ¡°Obvious he will be the only one who passes.¡± Helta confirms to Zeke¡¯s comment about the upcoming test. ¡°So, we have him go first. Or we make a fuss about how ¡®He¡¯s the best of us so he should do it.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Charles nods with an awkward accent that almost didn¡¯t translate. ¡°Say, you don¡¯t suppose this human king speaks Demonic do you?¡±


    ¡°Why would a human be able to speak Demonic?¡± Zeke asks with a chuckle.


    ¡°You could ask the same question of us.¡± Charles shrugs.


    Unfortunately for you all, there¡¯s no treasure, I¡¯m not a king¨Cor a ghost¨C and I do speak Demonic.


    Sipping tea for the fifth time in order to spot for them. I again enter the dream-like vision.


    Bingo.


    The torches were a great idea on their part. It makes this almost easy for me.


    ¡°Go left.¡± I announce in a boom. ¡°We are nearly there.¡±


    With the three growing giddy at the thought they slowly follow Ted through the deep brush and shrubs of the overgrown forest.


    Climbing over a multitude of crumbled walls and stone piles they finally reached an area with a more substantial floor. Between cracked tiles of red and black, flowers and ferns seemingly erupted. Even trees were squeezing between the thick cracks to find room to grow. At first glance you might think the plants were amazing for cracking such tremendous stone tiles, then eventually you will realize your foolishness, like I did.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Helta mutters in amazement of the grove.


    It¡¯s a correct response, its certainly a fitting resting ground for such a domineering location.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Charles asks hesitantly as the group came to a stop in the rectangular grove.


    ¡°It is.¡± I affirm simply, luring them to the edge of their seats. ¡°Your first task will be removing the crystallization of cursed mana locking the vault. It should be easy to find, but I advise you be careful about touching it.¡±


    ¡°Crystalized cursed mana?¡± Zeke asks, again glancing around the area. ¡°What would it look li¡­¡±


    His pause tells me he has spotted it.


    Continuing as if nothing had happened, Zeke changes his question. ¡°How do you remove cursed mana?¡±


    Grinning to myself I offer a few options. ¡°Holy light, or a sprinkling of holy water could work.¡±


    Frowning to himself Charles sulks back out of sight of the other two.


    ¡°You could also destroy the mana gem securing the vault. Or short of destroying it, seal it somewhere it can¡¯t influence the outside world.¡±


    Well, you have the pieces. Now, come to papa.


    ¡°Once the curse is lifted, I will commence the tests. And then I will instruct you on opening the vault.¡±


    ¡°When the condensed mana is destroyed, won¡¯t your soul be freed? How will you conduct the tests?¡±


    ¡®Fuck you,¡¯ that¡¯s how. Don¡¯t question my lies.


    No, calm down, their dirty mana is infecting me.


    ¡°My soul is attached to the vault, the gem is only preventing the opening of it. Once it has been opened my soul will finally be free.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Charles nods as if my explanation were obvious to him.


    Don¡¯t pretend you know how souls work just because you are a church-dude.


    Stupid mana.


    Alright maybe that one was on me. But he deserves it.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Helta asks in excitement as she plucks a handful of plants away from the hearts resting place.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch it.¡± Zeke quickly spits in a flurry of anger. Plucking a patch of leather from his back he carefully lugs the crystal from its crevice in the dirt.


    ¡°It¡¯s bigger than I thought.¡± Helta mutters in amazement when the lanky Zeke eventually rolls it to flat ground. ¡°Anyone have a hammer?¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Zeke quickly denies as Charles turns to Ted. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ it won¡¯t break that easily. We need¡­ Hhm¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on Zeke, you¡¯re the brains on this part. This is your wheelhouse.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t study ancient magics. I¡¯ve never even seen a crystal this sized, much less a cursed one.¡± Zeke cries as he looks over the heart in exasperation. Eventually mumbling to himself he begins to repeat my options. ¡°You really don¡¯t have any holy water on you, Charles?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to need it.¡± Charles whines with a pitiful expression. ¡°I could bless some, but¡­ I mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah we all know.¡± Helta snickers before grinning widely. ¡°Maybe Zeke and I will need to rethink the split to better reflect the effort exerted.¡±


    ¡°Oh and what have you done to help? Pulled a few weeds? Maybe that¡¯s all you are really good for. Working in the weeds¡­¡± Charles retorts with his own slimy grin.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you what some weeds can do!¡± Helta growls plucking a fistful of something grotesque from her jacket pocket. ¡°Here, try a whiff.¡±


    ¡°KNOCK IT OFF!¡± Zeke shouts without a glance up from the heart.


    Is it really going to take this long? I thought he was supposed to be a genius of magic construction, he can¡¯t even decipher a simple riddle.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to think here.¡± Zeke explains after calming his breathing. ¡°Cut it off¡­¡±


    ¡°We get it¡­¡± Charles mutters with a glance around, as if trying to spot my ghost.


    Zeke, shaking his head grows a smile as he turns to look at the two. ¡°No, I mean. That¡¯s it. We cut it off. We just need to bury¡­ No, the mana would still. We don¡¯t have nearly enough leather either¡­ Ah!¡±


    Leaping up, Zeke sprints over to the resting Ted and quickly rips something from his back.


    Bingo.


    Sprinting back with the hero¡¯s vessel Zeke carefully maneuvers the bags mouth around the gem.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Helta yells in shock with Charles beside her in a similar state. ¡°Didn¡¯t we already decide not to mess with that?!¡±


    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s the only way.¡± Zeke explains with a wild look in his eyes as he stuffs the gem further into the bag until it eventually lands comfortably on the awaiting pillow I set for it.


    ¡°Well, I suppose if it works.¡± Charles shrugs with a glance towards Helta¡¯s simmering anger.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Zeke asks gazing around the area for something new.


    Indeed, now what?


    ¡°Do you believe in the concept of an eye for an eye?¡± I ask after a long moment of thought. ¡°Or should people turn the other cheek?¡±


    With none of them sure how to answer they eventually land on this being a part of the test.


    ¡°I want each of you to answer.¡± I continue as I begin eyeing the junk left by the countless armor bearers before me. ¡°If you turn the other cheek what¡¯s to stop that person from just repeating the action? Any thoughts?¡±


    ¡°Aggression should be met with aggression. No matter what.¡± Charles piously states without guilt.


    With Zeke and Helta following his position soon after, my decision was solidified.


    ¡°So we are in agreement then.¡± I nod, taking a small stone from the center of an amulet and channeling the bags mana into it excessively. If I¡¯m right, this should only explode once outside the bag, if I¡¯m wrong, well no real harm done.


    Juggling the piping hot stone between my hands I carelessly toss it towards the wall.


    ¡°Enjoy your treasure.¡± The three hear as the small stone tumbles between them from the bag in Zeke¡¯s hands.


    I expected a loud noise but it wasn¡¯t so satisfying.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°So I guess you survived Ted? I can still feel your mana. Can you hear me?¡±


    Hesitating in place with mouth agape Ted looks around before landing his eyes on the only scrap of matter remaining from where his owner was once standing.


    ¡°Dem¡­¡± He mutters halfway before sprinting towards the closest game trail.


    Well, his loss, I was going to give him a coin for all the trouble.

 20.

    I really got it. I asked for it, and I really got it.


    So much for having no control on the outside, I may as well have ultimate control.


    ¡­


    Alright, I admit that may be a little far. Obvious I don¡¯t have ultimate control, I still have no way of moving myself.


    It was only by chance that I was able to steer them in a direction I recognized. I would even go so far as to call it an extremely lucky turn of events. For instance, if I hadn¡¯t attempted projection when I did, or if the three chose a slightly different path, none of this would have happened.


    In the dark of the bag, the massive gem is somehow just as fear inducing as when it sat in that gloomy throne room. I¡¯m almost curious if it will still have the same reaction to me touching it.


    I want to try.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch it!¡± Someone outside the bag instructs just as I begin to approach closer to the heart.


    How did they know what I was¡­


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to touch it.¡± A scruffier male voice responds timidly as if reading my thoughts. ¡°I just wanted to¡­ inspect it closer.¡±


    Yeah, same. This guy get¡¯s it. Rather, who are these people?


    ¡°Layout a grid before we touch anything, Elle you¡¯ve got the rope and stakes, right? Does someone have the bag with all my notepads?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over here, Cara.¡± The man from before says as he rummages around his back.


    Breathing deeply and attempting a projection, I can make out a group of mixed proportions. Half looked pale and spindly while the rest were muscular and armed to the teeth.


    Researchers, again? Or better yet, archeologists of some sort? The cycle continue I suppose? But how long has passed? The area doesn¡¯t seem much different, other than the crater, perhaps its grown over a bit more, but that could just be due to a seasonal change.


    As the group formed lines and began staking the area each foot with twine and rods, I couldn¡¯t help but admire their diligence. I could see childlike excitement in some of them, but they still admirably did their work.


    Cara, the one who seems to be in charge, is taking careful notes about the ruins before eventually returning her attention to me, the only recognizable item in the ruin.


    ¡°Appears to be a pre-awakening relic,¡± Cara notes to herself as she scribbles rapidly in the book. ¡°Might very well be older than the ruins themselves.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re correct.¡± I confirm through the monotony filter of the voice changer.


    ¡°And it¡¯s able to speak, how interesting. It must have an extraordinarily strong mana vacuum ratio to be active despite such a great distance from any sources.¡± Cara continues to herself without pause.


    Well that wasn¡¯t the expected response. Even Heather made a bigger reaction than that. Well, no point worrying about that, back to the plan.


    ¡°I will offer you a trade, a question for its equivalent or an item for it¡¯s.¡±


    Lifting the pencil from her pad, this time Cara¡¯s expression changes. So that was the ticket, huh?


    And not only her, everyone within earshot was looking this direction now. There¡¯s only seven of them, I think I can handle that.


    Honestly, I am hoping one of them will offer food as their trade item, I know it would be strange but its not as if its never happened before.


    Cara, who was still standing awestruck quickly folds up her notepad before stepping closer to the bag with extreme care. ¡°You mean us no harm?¡±


    ¡°You have done nothing to anger me, so I have no reason to harm you.¡±


    Glancing at her colleagues, only to receive shrugs in response, Cara begins thinking. Peeling a measuring tape from within her belt, she makes a note of its location in the grid then carefully lifts it from its place with thick leather gloves.


    ¡°Judging from your mana signature you should have no trouble with touching me barehanded.¡± I mention off hand in order to build their trust in me.


    With weary looks coming from those around her, Cara hesitantly removes a glove from her hand and exchanges the bag. Sure enough, other than a momentary dizziness Cara didn¡¯t seem to show any negative reactions to the hero¡¯s vessel.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Are you ok?¡± The man she called out to earlier asks with widened eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, just as it said.¡± Cara confirms with a quick note into her pad. ¡°Well does anyone want to go first? I assume its limited to one each?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°So, it says, well?¡± Cara again looks around the group surrounding her. None were immediately allured surprisingly. ¡°Then I will go first I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡± I nod while looking around for something she might want from this pile of relics.


    ¡°I obvious choose the question.¡± Noticing the odd looks from everyone around, me included, she adds her reasoning. ¡°After all how often do you get the chance to ask an ancient relic a question.¡±


    The researchers in the team nod their heads after a long moment while the escorts look at each other in disbelief.


    ¡°So how does it work? Do you ask one first? Or should I go?¡± Cara asks looking excited by the prospects.


    ¡°If you have one ready then go ahead. If you need a minute I can ask mine first.¡± I offer once I wipe the surprise from my face. Of course, I already know my question. It¡¯s one I¡¯ve been curious about for quiet awhile, all things considered.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± Cara mutters with pencil eraser buried in her blistered lips.


    ¡°HIYA!¡± Someone shouts as they dunk an object through the hole in the bag and almost directly at my head.


    Stumbling to grab the object I find it to just be a random stone, perhaps even a fragment on the tiles laid in the throne room.


    Two can play at that game.


    This isn¡¯t the only rock I¡¯ve got in here. Plucking up the fist sized stone and winding up to the best of my unathletic ability, I hurl it at the wall.


    ¡®THUNK¡¯


    Striking the man square in the head and sending him tumbling to his butt, the man shakes his head in surprise.


    ¡°You get what you pay for.¡± Cara giggles as she realizes what had happened. ¡°There goes Kalvin¡¯s turn.¡±


    ¡°Ooo¡­¡± Kalvin mutter as he lifts a piece of the cracked round stone to reveal a flurry of gemstones in a variety of colors.


    ¡°Kei¡¯geth gems!¡± One of the researchers with slack jaw mutters in amazement. ¡°So they do form as a geode?¡±


    ¡°Valuable?¡± Kalvin simply mutters with glimmering eyes fluttering between the gems and the man who recognized the type.


    ¡°More than you can imagine.¡± Cara laughs, ¡°They are typically found as shards seemingly at random. A single one ¨CIf properly tuned¨C could hold enough charge to shield an entire city. It¡¯s not rare for countries to even fork out white gold for just a fragment.¡±


    ¡°So this¡­¡±


    ¡°Is a bounty of scientific knowledge and should be left to a museum or academy for proper study.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Kalvin, with an audible whimper glances at Cara who, sympathetic, reasons with her colleague.


    ¡°It¡¯s broken into three pieces, so how about the small half go to the museum, this half go to the academy ¨CFOR RESEARCH¨C and the biggest half is for Calvin.¡±


    Cheering to himself quietly Calvin secures his chunk and begins dancing carefully around the ruins.


    ¡°I want to go next!¡± The one Cara called Elle says while clutching a necklace she had sifted from her bag.


    Receiving the chain from Elle, I find a small box laying amongst the ¡®safe¡¯ pile and inspect it to be sure it was the necklace I thought it was. Fairly mundane considering some of the things in here, but a researcher should find some great use from it.


    Making a note of the exchange on the note nestled within the box I replace the new necklace and pass the chain outside the bag with a slight toss.


    Resuming my projection, I manage to catch Elle receiving the new necklace from the air with a look of curiosity on her face. I hadn¡¯t expected her to catch it, but I suppose she must be fairly coordinated to go on these sorts of missions. I wonder how far away the closest human town is? Are these ruins demon land or human? I will save those questions for later.


    ¡°What does it do?¡± Elle quickly asks, yielding the amulet over to Cara.


    ¡°Ask Carl, he knows gem engravings better than me.¡± Cara shrugs before underhand tossing the amulet to the male who was fussing over the scientific bounty I chucked at Calvin¡¯s head earlier.


    ¡°Definitely magic¡­¡± Carl mutter much to everybody¡¯s sarcastic shock. ¡°Right, right. Um¡­ Looks like¡­ Damn. I¡¯ve never seen anything like this. Might have to give it the old ten-stage identification.¡±


    That still exists? I¡¯ve read about this before. This should be interesting, I¡¯ve never seen it run before.


    ¡°Elle, want to do the honors?¡±


    ¡°You mean be the victim?¡± Elle pouts, retrieving the necklace back and reluctantly placing it on her neck. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s do it!¡±


    ¡°Already messed it up, we need the the control for stage one first.¡± Carl explains with a shake of his head as Elle plucks the necklace from her neck and places it on a nearby table. ¡°Hand on the gem.¡±


    Doing as told Elle ignite the gem in carl¡¯s hand with magic before replacing the necklace and igniting it again.


    ¡°No changes in affinity, volume, or latent.¡± Carl confirms checking off the first step and flipping the page in his book. ¡°Stage two, we can do this a bit off the cuff. Hey Kin, mind taking off the rucksack?¡±


    ¡°I can already promise you I can¡¯t lift that thing.¡± Elle confidently states with her arms crossed into an ¡®x¡¯.


    ¡°Just try it, we won¡¯t make you wear something heavy for as long as you possibly can, so just be glad we are using the cut-down version of the test.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± Sighing quietly Elle steps up to the bag and, of course, struggles to lift it.


    I would tell them if they just asked, but its clear none of them are willing to waste their only chance on a question like that.


    After an impressive nine whole steps, the use of the amulet was finally confirmed. Shutting the book with a satisfied grin Carl suddenly realizes his moment was stolen from him by the test itself.


    ¡°So it can read any language? Like¡­ any language? How¡¯s that possible?¡±


    ¡°Magic is ma¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say ¡®magic is magical¡¯.¡± Cara interrupts with a roll of her eyes. ¡°The leading theory is that intent is left in words, even printed ones, that intent left in the magic is constant despite language. I¡¯ve read about theories arguing that it could be harnessed for translation but nobody has accomplished it.¡±


    ¡°Well clearly that¡¯s not¡­¡±


    ¡°Well obviously it¡¯s not the case. But my comment still stands, this is from outside of history. It confirms that this bag is as old, certainly older than the ruins, and perhaps even older than history itself.¡± Cara notes in her pad and aloud simultaneously.


    ¡°Me now. Me.¡± Another warrior who had been waiting at the wings chants stepping carefully over the grid of stakes and rope.


    ¡°Hold on. Let¡¯s do this at camp, no point spending time here if we aren¡¯t working.¡± Cara sighs while tugging the bag away from the approaching warrior.


    The two who already received theirs were quick to agree while the others were justifiably impatient. Nonetheless the group made their way back to their camp, chatting all the while about both me and the ruins themselves.


    I like these people.

 21.

    Two trades and a question later, finally what I desired appeared before me. Those around the man of course ceaselessly mocked and questioned his decision for trade items. Most had noticed a correspondence to what they put inside the bag, Elle with the necklace, Calvin with the stone, so it¡¯s no wonder that Calvin¡¯s brother, Kin, thought the same would happen to his dinner.


    Unfortunately, I had nothing to offer on that regard. Instead I picked from what I consider, ¡®the good-est pile¡¯. Not the ¡®Best pile¡¯, but only about a half step below.


    The choices; a ring that can increases his strength, a bag, much like the hero¡¯s vessel, but with a few obvious limits, and last, one of perhaps the only two infinite flasks in existence.


    ¡°Hoping to get that magically retrievable throwing-knife?¡± Kalvin smirks while watching his brother¡¯s patient expression.


    ¡°Pff¡­ I was just hoping for an edible dinner roll.¡± Kin admits with a grin. ¡°In my dreams, maybe.¡±


    I think I¡¯ve got one of those around here somewhere. How¡¯d he even know about these? I don¡¯t think anyone has made them in a couple thousand generations. Another one of those passed down legends maybe? Either way¡­


    ¡°Wha¡­¡± Kin mutters with his eyes glued to the blade and ring which tumble out of the bag unceremoniously. ¡°It¡¯s real.¡±


    Was that everyone? No, Cara still hasn¡¯t asked her question, has she? I suppose she was skipped in all the excitement.


    But now that things seem to have calmed down, and most of the group are either experimenting with their new items, or imagining what they can buy with their profits, it¡¯s the perfect opportunity for her.


    Will she ask the same question Heather did? Will she have already figured me out? It wouldn¡¯t surprise me, I haven¡¯t been perfect with my disguise this time around, I¡¯ll admit I let my guard down a bit, I¡¯m sure many of my response were too human.


    ¡°Will I ever get married?¡± Cara eventually asks in a hushed voice with glances around the camp.


    Well that wasn¡¯t what I anticipated. Does she think I¡¯m a crystal ball? How am I even supposed to answer that? Should I just lie to her? Tell her that, yes, her future is filled with love and children. Wouldn¡¯t that end up hurting her if it never came true?


    ¡°Sorry, that was a weird thing to ask, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Cara smirks with a sip from a canteen she had pulled from her waist.


    ¡°Is that your question?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Cara confirms with a shake of her head. ¡°I honest can¡¯t decide what to ask. At first, I wanted to ask about ancient history, but what would I even ask? Then I was going to ask what magic structures allowed you to survive for so long, but again that felt too weak.¡±


    ¡°Then why not make a trade?¡±


    Cara, looking at the members of her party who were either planning their retirement, or marveling at new ideas, again smirks a wine-stained smile. ¡°Because I¡¯m more interested in what question you will ask than any answers or relics you could give me.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°You¡¯re interested in my question?¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± Cara nods glancing at Carl who had asked me a questions before Kin delivered my dinner. ¡°Your question to Carl was about these ruins, and where they lay on the map. I found that remarkably interesting.¡±


    That¡¯s true, in response to his query about the purpose of these ruins, I asked weather or not these were still human owned lands.


    The response I got was long winded but positive in the end. Apparently after dozens of incursions and invasions over the past hundred and twenty years these lands have finally come fully back into human hands.


    I didn¡¯t get the exact details of it all but apparently, the current border of the world is a few hundred miles to the south of here. It almost sounds like its in a similar place as when I was alive. It¡¯s good to hear that humanity is still alive and kicking even without a hero.


    But why was she interested in that? Because I was interested? Did that give me away as I feared?


    ¡°Are you looking for the H¡­¡±


    ¡°HELP!¡± A voice loudly calls, interrupting Cara¡¯s question mid-syllable.


    The origin appears to be four figures layered in alternating coats of blood and drying mud. The figure in the center seem to be the worst off out of all of them. Blood appears to be dripping from a cut somewhere under his hood and his friends on either side are hauling his dragging body.


    ¡°Kalvin, the first aid bag.¡± Cara instructs sprinting over to the men with a moment hesitation. ¡°Carl would you make a couple extra benches?¡±


    ¡°Roger.¡± Kalvin confirms, digging through a backpack for the specialized bag while Carl begins waving a wooden staff around a cleared area of the campsite.


    The pit growing in my stomach was probably due to the sheer amount of blood, but for some reason it didn¡¯t feel the same as when I last saw that much blood on the night everything ended.


    Maybe I¡¯ve become conditioned? Or is it something else? Something even more familiar.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± A familiar voice begs in shrill pain and terror while looking at the withering corpses of Kalvin and Kin and the knife pressed on Carl¡¯s throat. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything just don¡¯t¡­¡±


    Jerking the blade carelessly the man shoves the body aside and replaces the knife to his belt. He places a hand onto Cara¡¯s chin with a pitying smile plastering his face. ¡°That was already a given, you don¡¯t have to make any promises darling.¡±


    Shuddering from the sound of a scream erupting from Elle, Cara jerks her face away from the approaching hooded man only to be faced by an even worse scene.


    ¡°Now, it wouldn¡¯t be any good if those four have all the fun.¡± The man smirks while wiping a streak of blood across Cara¡¯s lips and tugging her line of sight back up to meet his. ¡°Let¡¯s make you pretty first, huh?¡±


    I did my best to block out the sound; to block out the thought, but it was impossible.


    I am cursed.


    This bag should just be destroyed, it only ever brings pain to those who hold it.


    Another scream and the familiar scent of blood helped shroud me to sleep.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°Ho, ho, Wha¡¯da¡¯we got here?¡± A voice calls to bring me back to reality. I¡¯d like to think that was all a nightmare, but I know that¡¯s not the case.


    Taking a moment to project the campsite I¡¯m faced with exactly what I feared seeing. As well as something I hadn¡¯t anticipated seeing.


    The man towering over me was one I recognized from the group who attacked the researchers, and the dagger that quickly lodged itself into his chest was also one I recognized from the night prior.


    ¡°THAT IS MINE.¡± The hooded man spits as he kicks the fallen body of his comrade. Retrieving the knife, only to stab it into the barreled chest a handful more times before setting it back to his belt; the man pulls back his hood as he lifts the bag with his other hand. ¡°After all this time, finally reunited. Long time no see old friend. It was ¡®Bag¡¯ wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Rhun?


    Do I feel relieved to see someone I recognize? I can¡¯t say I do. If anything I think I¡¯m more upset.


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± I ask without bothering with the voice changer. ¡°Why did you kill those people? What did they do to you?!¡±


    Rhun, looking at the bag curiously, soon shows a wide grin, ¡°That¡¯s a weird question.¡±


    Why did it have to be someone I know? Anyone else and I wouldn¡¯t even hesitate.

 22.

    ¡°So what¡¯ll you give me for these?¡± Rhun asks in his typical lisped tone as another bloody finger is tossed into the bag. ¡°You were offering trades to those guys, right?¡±


    So he was spying on them? So, I was the reason for all this?


    ¡°Ya¡¯know on second thought,¡± Rhun adds knowing full well I wouldn¡¯t respond. ¡°Those ones are free of charge. No need for anything in return. Consider them gifts.¡±


    What happened to him? How did he become this?


    Or, had he always been this?


    ¡°Boss,¡± one of Rhun¡¯s partners asks with a quick glance at the bag he clutched tightly. ¡°Are we going to stay here, or¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± Rhun spits in response, sitting up from the earthen bench the deceased mages made hours earlier to treat him.


    They didn¡¯t even bother to bury the bodies.


    But should I have expected them to? That may have been even more insulting now that I think about it. If you are going to ruthlessly murder someone, don¡¯t turn around and stand on ceremony for them moments later I suppose.


    I don¡¯t want to think about it. I don¡¯t want to think about their violated decomposing bodies becoming the fodder of animals, but if I let my mind wander it drifts to other painful thoughts.


    That trip to the forest with Noel, when he disappeared¡­


    Did he know what was going to happen?


    Did he set her up?


    No, he was a child I can¡¯t accept that to be the case.


    My assumption was always that he was grabbed before they went after Noel. Maybe he was turned into this after being tortured by the kidnappers?


    Or am I completely mistaken? Maybe all my worries are erroneous and they both met up back in town with no problems.


    If that¡¯s the case does he know what happened afterwards? How long has it even been? He¡¯s clearly aged a lot.


    I want to ask him all those questions, but I am just too furious to speak straight.


    Why did he have to kill them? Cara and her friends, what did they do to deserve that?


    When I asked him those questions, I honestly think he thought I was joking. As if questioning why to kill someone is as crazy as banging your head against a wall. In the end I never even got an answer from him.


    If I sat him down and really worked the answer out, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d even feel any better. He could honestly be evil simply for the sake of it, I suppose if we did come from demons who¡¯s to say we couldn¡¯t revert back. Perhaps he¡¯s even worse than the group who carried me to the ruins. But if that¡¯s the case, why am I so hesitant to do to him what I did to them?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    There are countless, potential, ticking timebombs in here, but I¡¯m not reaching for any of them. I¡¯m not fishing any gems from amulets, or concocting any plans with potions.


    Why not?


    Why?


    What will I get from it? Some momentary satisfaction that will leave me lost further in time. And without any answers.


    Perhaps I dread the answers even more than being lost again.


    I¡¯m going to act as I intended with the previous bandits.


    Silence, and no mercy if encroached upon. Even if I am left wondering, I will stay silent.


    I have a sword prepared, and no matter what I see or hear, I won¡¯t try to fix these broken people. I will only step in to further break them if the need ever arises.


    And I don¡¯t want it to arise. Because I really can¡¯t see him as anything but Noel¡¯s friend even now. Even after seeing what I saw, I still see him in my mind as nothing but a precocious child who was acting out because he was uncomfortable in an unfamiliar environment.


    Maybe it¡¯s because I hadn¡¯t expected to see him ever again.  The people I meet always become nothing but snapshots to me. Their lives boiled down to the moments I interact with them, It¡¯s wrong but it¡¯s fundamentally how I operate.


    The snapshot I have of Rhun, is a kid bullying those around him in an orphanage he was unaccustomed to, the boiled down life is one of difficulty. In my mind I pity him, but in person, now, I want to hate him as much as possible.


    He seems to even treat those around him horribly. In the few moments I¡¯ve spent glancing outside with a person-based projection he¡¯s either been ridiculing his ¡®friends¡¯ or tormenting whatever he sees.


    He¡¯s already killed one of these so called ¡®friends¡¯, I can¡¯t even imagine why the others stay.


    Ah, right.


    It seems I¡¯ve perfected person-based projection by the way.


    I suppose I am not celebrating because of what strong visual memory I used as catalyst for the first attempt at it.


    How dare he make me remember it.


    I don¡¯t care if I¡¯m being petty. He earned at least that much.


    ??¨„??¨„


    That night, after his partners went to sleep Rhun sat up and stared deep into the flames with me still linked tightly to his belt.


    Barely audible over the sound of crackling wood and the stream babbling in the background, Rhun spoke words. ¡°You really brought back memories. I know I¡¯m not supposed to get attached but, do you know what ever happened to her? I guess it was because it was my first job, and I was so enamored with you but I was always real curious. I even thought about stealing you back from Gubg. Seeing as how you clammed up when you realized it was me, you must have heard something from him at some point when you were in his hoard, right?¡±


    Gubg? Is that the man¡­ the head, that I once held on to? The owner I never met who found me after Noel¡¯s escape?


    ¡°I wonder just what kind of horrible things he made her endure? I suppose it would be a blessing if he kept her though. As bad as he may be, it¡¯s a better life than serving as some backwoods army¡¯s tool cleaner.¡± Rhun continues with a curious expression passing his face for a moment. ¡°So, what have you heard? Did he end up selling her to someone? Or was it¡­¡±


    Placing a finger to his throat and comically plucking it across with a chuckle, Rhun breathes a hearty sigh.


    Eventually a different face appears over his content expression. ¡°Or had you not known?¡±


    Again I didn¡¯t respond. Why would I respond to his baseless taunts?


    ¡°Maybe you thought she made it home? What, had you two made some daring escape plan before parting with her? I bet it was real tearful too!¡± Rhun bellows with a fit a laughter easily loud enough to wake those around him. ¡°Oh, please tell me that¡¯s true! Please tell me you thought she made it back to the village! Oh if only¡­¡±


    ¡°To be so¡­¡±


    ¡°Niave.¡±


    Punctuating the thoughts with flurries of odd laughter and panting Rhun at this point was clearly on the brink of madness.


    ¡°Let me tell you something ¡®Bag¡¯, that girl nowadays is probably good for one of two things; Fertilizing the grass around a shallow grave somewhere, or oinking like a sow under a peasant militiaman.¡±


    On second thought I can probably kill him without it messing with my conscience.


    But I should make sure it¡¯s at least half as painful as Cara¡¯s death.

 23.

    After an entire night of elaborate planning, I ended up falling asleep with nothing to show for it except Rhun babbling more nonsense into my head.


    The following morning the group once again set off. It seemed like today there was an actual plan in place. They somehow received a message to meet with a contact from some other group. I couldn¡¯t exactly piece it all together, but it seems like they are rushing to hike further southwest to meet this person.


    It must be important if it can even put a hustle into Rhun¡¯s step. Pity, they probably won¡¯t make it there.


    Not that I have some fantastic plan all the sudden. I just refuse to see Rhun succeed ever again.


    The group wasted some time arguing over weather to take the roads or to stay in the forest, but overall they kept up a fairly rapid pace. I thought Rhun would be the rational voice of the group but he was on the side of using the road to cut down their travel time. If these people are criminals, as I assume, then wouldn¡¯t a heavily trafficked road be one of the most dangerous places for them?


    Rhun¡¯s friends seem to share my opinion too, but once challenged, the young leader refused to back down on his belief. Perhaps its typical at that age? Wait, he might be older than me. Why am I talking like adolescence is some ancient memory?


    Hearing an unnatural whistle from outside, my wandering mind returns to projecting my targets. Just as expected.


    ¡°Wha¡¯d¡¯we do?¡± The bulkier man, who seemed particularly broken up about Rhun¡¯s friendly fire, asks with widening eyes bobbing between the heavily guarded caravan and Rhun.


    ¡°What?¡± Rhun asks with the same dumbfounded expression he used on me days earlier. ¡°Now we get to have fun!¡±


    Without missing a beat, Rhun rips two bottles from his coat pockets and lobs them towards the center of the carriage line approaching them.


    A guard, who was already eyeing the group quickly leaps up, extending his shield to intercept one of the bottles. Unfortunately, the second made it past and shattered in the center of a loaded wagon. And of course, the first bottle, which shattered on the man¡¯s shield also ignited, spreading instantly to the line of guards beside the vigilant man.


    With the instantaneous chaos ensuing many of the guards around the long caravan would obviously have no idea what is happening. I see archers drawing their bows at empty treetops searching for the enemy sniper or mage. And all the while, the only ones in any position to stop the three, are either burning to death or exchanging blows with the surprisingly competent swordsmen Rhun travels with.


    With Rhun pulling a handful more items from his pockets, including what look like shards of a magic gem, the team regrouped and, on the que of Rhun throwing his finale, they all dash for the opposite side of the road.


    I can¡¯t deny that the explosion was spectacular. But I mean it with no respect, it¡¯s just the textbook definition.


    It seems my theory was correct, they were indeed gem fragments, I recognized the explosion. He must have been carrying unstable fragments this whole time, unless he has enough control to charge a handful that quickly, but I doubt it. The fragments explosion is simple to explain but it can only truly be grasped first hand.


    When a gem or a fragment of a gem reaches a certain age, or is overcharged to a level of rendering it unstable, it attempts to hold onto its structure by splitting and releasing a lot of energy, however if those two fragments are still overcharged, well you can see where I am going with this. A domino effect of explosions that vaporize anything within range.


    This explosion wasn¡¯t as big as mine, but then again how often does one come across a magic gem the size of a strawberry like the one I used. It was probably worth more than a small country, before it exploded. Before I destroyed it.


    I do have a bit of a problem about moving too quick. Looking around I can see a few other gems that would have surely done the job. I¡¯m also fairly sure I have a jar full of poison that would probably have a fairly good spread rate. A few drops into the ground when they were sleeping would have them dead before they wake up.


    But then again who knows what else would have been contaminated, perhaps the bag itself even.


    And I thought I was cursed before.


    Why am I thinking about the past?


    Maybe it¡¯s a masked way of planning for these upcoming festivities?


    No. I won¡¯t glamorize it like Rhun would. What I am going to do isn¡¯t good, its simply something that must be done. Picking a weed that should have been uprooted from the start.


    So I¡¯m god now? Decider of life and death?


    Maybe right now. Maybe in just this situation. If I¡¯m wrong, something will stop me, and I will return to the silent observer. I¡¯ll watch Rhun die of old age if I must.


    What? Maybe asking for a sign is too clich¨¦?


    Then, shall we ask a crystal ball? How¡¯s that for clich¨¦?


    Unsure of why exactly I am angry I slam a hand against the heart, this time with nothing stopping me.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The pain I had forgotten about was nostalgic and instantaneous. The voices, familiar and unfamiliar alike echo thousands of separate thoughts, drowning each other out while creating a foundation for the baritone to again solo.


    ¡°You survived...¡± The growl reverberated through my body causing a shiver I thought might shatter my bones.


    It knows I am here.


    I can almost see it staring at me. I don¡¯t even need to ask what it is. I¡¯ve felt this presence before. Twice now.


    I think things make more, and less, sense now. Did the king even know about this thing¡¯s connection to him?


    Almost responding to my thoughts, a laugh again rumbles through my body. ¡°You humans think too much and fear too little. I suppose you would say it makes you strong? But I think the opposite.¡±


    Why would I fear you anymore? You¡¯ve already taken the world from me a dozen times. If anything I regret not dying to you from the start.


    Destroy it again, then see if I feel anything.


    ¡°Liar.¡± The demon kings voice hisses into my head, gripping at the mana in my body and ripping it towards him through the heart. ¡°Good, I like this anger, I hadn¡¯t expected a human¡¯s mana to ever feel this cold. Unfortunately, it won¡¯t work.¡±


    Angry. Yes, I am angry. Anything I touch dies, and now while being sustained by this¡­


    Rhun, it¡¯s his fault. It¡¯s his mana infecting me. Have my thoughts even been my own? As my mana continues pouring into the stone I feel my consciousness fading as usual.


    ¡°Not yet.¡± The demonic voice again calls as my fingers begin to slip from the surface. ¡°You aren¡¯t finished.¡±


    So he will bleed me of everything then?


    What?


    The heat that once pierced my fingertips from the glittering stone now felt almost cool and responsive, like a hand entangling mine as I rested further against it. An unmistakable touch, and then it was gone.


    ¡°Lotil¡­¡± I mutter, lacking the energy to restrain my thoughts from spilling out.


    ¡°So a familiar mana exists. Then take it.¡± The demon¡¯s howl rings out with a grin as it forces the tender leftover mana deep through my bones and nerves. ¡°You¡¯ll need every bit you can take.¡±


    ¡°Is this really Lotil¡¯s?¡± I hesitantly ask as the vitality begins to drip back into my body. I¡¯m even more hesitant to ask why he is helping me, or seemingly helping me.


    ¡°Side effect of the scripture in the gem. Their mana pulses were happily accepted by the soul-gem the moment their pulses rang out. You should be glad on both sakes¡±


    Every soul in the capital is inside the heart stone? And he called it a ¡®side effect¡¯? ¡°So was that some sort of sacrifice, or something? If so, then now that this soul-gem is in here, that can¡¯t have been good for your plan.¡±


    A low laugh rocked through my body as the mana continued to cascade from the gem into me. ¡°You misunderstand quite a few things, although you are partially correct on two points.¡±


    ¡°Your misunderstanding seems to stem from one missed point. The demon king that destroyed your home was not the same as I. I have been imprisoned in this gem for much longer than even you can comprehend, how could I participate in destroying your home?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I can¡¯t help but query in shock. Then there are more than one demon king?


    ¡°No, it would be better to say I am no longer he. Those brat twins thought sealing my mana source here would hinder my power, and to a certain extent it did. But in the long run, it did little more than force my body to hone its skills in other ways. And inevitably after so long it even eventually found new ways to channel mana so their efforts were nearly in vain. As proof of that he laid waste to the kingdom that sat on the grounds where he was once sealed. He probably had no idea that his soul still remained there.¡±


    ¡°None of this was in the children¡¯s book.¡± I mutter with a glance towards the item I received from the Fel demon.


    ¡°By now my body will have realized, so you ought to too. The sword alone isn¡¯t strong enough to completely destroy him even in this semi-weakened state. However if the stars aligned and all three relics were to find their way into the same hands then he would be powerless to resist his demise.¡±


    The words he says are shocking and alarming but none struck me more than his first statement. It was said with such casual confidence but it goes against everything I know. ¡°The sword isn¡¯t enough?!¡±


    ¡°Pay attention damnit! I¡¯m trying to explain it. Stop interjecting every damn minute.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I awkwardly apologize as a fifth source of distinctly different mana begins piping into my palm. I still haven¡¯t asked about that, but I suppose he would just become angrier if I did.


    ¡°Fool, who hasn¡¯t even realized that his pieces are towering over the horizon.¡± The demon mutters in disdain before continuing with a painfully powerful surge of mana. ¡°I¡¯m not planning on killing you by mana intoxication by the way. This is something that will be needed in time to come, and even it might just barely be enough.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even thought of that possibility. A genuine shiver traveled down my spine for the first time since standing in that tunnel to hell. He has a terrifying level of control over me at this moment, but I am too curious about his words and actions to remove my hand. Assuming I still even could remove it.


    ¡°Those twins whether they knew it or not, set in place an opportunity. With the three gifts they and their ancestors left behind, they had created a chance for both your kind, and the demon king. Their intelligence is lauded by demons but in reality their plan had a flaw, and that flaw was caused by their own actions. In chaining part of me into this soul-gem they gave me the opportunity to return even if the sword is used. They basically gave me another life should I ever require.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me this then? This seems like the most important thing to keep s¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you, he and I are different beings now. We have continued to mature, separately. While trapped in this gem I have been fed nothing but weak human mana for that past ten thousand years. How, after all that time, could I not change in one or two ways? Use your brain, fool. Why else would I be willing to impart such an important thing to such a lowly creature?¡±


    This mana he¡¯s giving me is that important to him?


    ¡°Not the mana, fool! This! Learn it well, this culmination of my knowledge, lest it be wasted on you!¡±


    The sensation coming from my palm changed from one of cool energy to the feeling of vision, but my eyes have been long shut.


    ¡°You clearly lack a true understand of even the basic of perception, it¡¯s a wonder you were able to perform projections at all.¡± The soul huffs as he continues feeding visual representation of mana manipulation through the palm of my hand. ¡°Your mana is filled to it¡¯s peak, all that¡¯s left is for you to perfect this technique. Only once you can set foot amongst your kind once again will this all be finally finished.¡±


    His words would have awestruck me once more if I weren¡¯t completely caught up in the things he was showing me. I can return to the real world?


    Am I not trapped?


    As if sensing that I wasn¡¯t reacting in any way the old demon adds a final piece to finally convince me to cast off any doubts, for better or worse.


    ¡°Currently the hero¡¯s army is gathering to again push the frontline further. But they¡¯re not aware that a grand number of humanoids have woken up for the event. You aren¡¯t the only one capable of projection.¡±


    ¡°T¡­¡±


    ¡°Focus.¡± The demon reminds me as if taunting on purpose. ¡°What good will me telling you ¡®where¡¯ do if you can¡¯t even escape this place yet.¡±


    The hero exists.


    The hero actually exists.


    ¡°Focus!¡±

 24.

    Hundreds of miles away to the west, the Hero was absently inspecting the battalion of tents laying in the valley below. It was far from where the hero expected to be a decade ago.


    Well does anyone really anticipate leading an army at such a young age? Its no wonder morale is where it is. The expressions they show is proof enough.


    The legends said this campaign would be the greatest in history. That demons would all but welcome their destruction when the hero lead the army. But that wasn¡¯t the case so far. Every mile, every inch, was taken with buckets of blood.


    The faces the hero saw, reflected just how much they each paid to get here. But they ought not to have paid anything. They were promised a free trip to the throne in Kez-Logar, but that¡¯s clearly not what they are receiving.


    And that failure can only be the Hero¡¯s to bear.


    Reaching a hand for the hilt hanging from the constricting belt, the Hero draws the unwieldy sword and alights it with mana.


    The pulse of light and warmth, filling the valley with a soothing energy, drew everyone¡¯s attention, human and demon alike. The demon¡¯s, who were lurking in the shadows around the encampments could do nothing but block their eyes and escape the deadly rays. The humans on the other hand looked on in amazement.


    The frowns that once rested on the faces of the soldiers were now replaced with a feeling of hope. Even if they would have to struggle for each step, the soldiers held hope, for atleast the hero was with them.


    The only one with a remaining frown, was the hero.


    The hero knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ??¨„??¨„


    The next evening the hero was tucked between dozens of generals and strategists as they once again reviewed a plan they had been conducting for weeks.


    ¡°By tomorrow we will want to reach the Etik valley,¡± A man on the left side of the table explains with a finger to a dot drawn on the wide map.


    He has said the same thing the past four meetings. It¡¯s no less true than it has been before, does he think we aren¡¯t aware? I haven¡¯t seen him mowing down any demons lately, so perhaps he¡¯s the one who needs reminding.


    Holding back my tongue a few strategists nod beside him as if the mere words will achieve it.


    The real questions we should be asking ourselves here is¡­


    ¡°The questions we ought to be asking is how can we achieve what has so far evaded us?¡± The calmest voice in the group reasons shutting everyone up instantly. For good reason, without this person the army wouldn¡¯t have formed at the speed it did. Without this person¡¯s trust in the hero, they wouldn¡¯t have come this far.


    No one had an answer for the royal child. No one could admit that they were stumped as to how to break the demon¡¯s control over the Etik valleys strategic points. The idea of flanking them from behind was brought up before but, unless someone had miraculously created a secret tunnel through the mountain face, there was no way to do that.


    ¡°Hero? Do you have anything?¡±


    ¡°We hit them harder. It¡¯s all we have. We¡¯ve tried infiltrations, we¡¯ve tried sieges, we¡¯ve tried magic, we¡¯ve rolled every die we have.¡± The hero sighs while tottering one of the game pieces across the map. ¡°All we have left is brute force. Fight with the same ferocity that they would when invading.¡±


    Knocking an enemy piece over with the one the hero held to demonstrate the point, a few of the generals couldn¡¯t help but approve of the battle strategy with a light chuckle.


    Again silencing the crowd, the royal again asks the question on everyone¡¯s mind. ¡°Is that really the only¡­¡±


    ¡°Excuse me!¡±


    Under the small voice, erupting through the cloth curtain door of the tent, was a young porter with an uncertain look on his face. Perhaps he didn¡¯t realize who he was interrupting. After looking around and realizing attention was gathered on him, the porter coughs into his hand awkwardly before announcing his reasoning for entering.


    ¡°A spy was caught sneaking towards the camp. He¡¯s being weirdly uncooperative and¡­¡±


    One of the generals, unsatisfied with this reasoning quickly boils into a rage. ¡°That is no reason to interrupt a strategy meeting lead by a highness! Apologize this inst¡­¡±


    ¡°Hold on.¡±

 25.

    The fog was thick like clotted cream as the group wandered through the tent laden mud.


    The hero alone had been requested for this meeting, yet somehow the troop leaders also decided to attend in order to see what this spy had to say for himself. I suppose it should be expected, who would agree to the requests of someone devious enough to spy for the demons.


    Typically, a request like this from a prisoner would be instantly denied. It was strange enough to have a prisoner at all. But these circumstances were very odd to say the least.


    As the porter described it, the human the guards had found wandering through forest was ¡®well dressed¡¯ with only a small letter opener covered in dry blood in his possession.


    Eventually arriving at the tent, the hero and company ducked their heads to enter the low hanging doorway.


    Filing in one by one, several generals and strategists all stood in shock as they stared at the caged figure before them.


    Coated in a thin layer of ash, and dry blood was a gaunt teenager wearing a torn button up shirt and a loosely-knotted blood red tie.


    His eyes were shut and his body was slumped against the bars of the small animal cage. I wouldn¡¯t doubt anyone if they claimed he had already died before we arrived. If it weren¡¯t for the trace amount of mana still pulsing in his body I¡¯d have been sure he was dead. But that trace was little more than a whisper.


    What must he have gone through already to get to this state?


    And now we are holding him in chains like a slave? No. The hero refused to stomach it.


    ¡°Open that cage! Now. Get him out of there.¡± The prince commands with a seething look towards the soldiers standing nearby. ¡°Someone call a healer right away. And the rest of y¡­¡±


    ¡°Y¡­¡± The boy in the cage mutters opening his eyes cautiously and glancing past the men wrenching open the cage. ¡°It¡¯s you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Bag?¡± The hero asks with hollowing eyes.


    ¡°Noel...¡± The figure mutters with a small smile as what little energy he had finally pitters out.


    ??¨„??¨„


    Prompted by the prince¡¯s call, Filia arrived quickly and began casting an array of magics without even a second glances after arriving at the tent, it was almost as if she already knew what needed to be done without even a look.


    With her off-hand she began to shoo away the curious generals and then promptly requested Bonze¡¯s assistance in carrying Aryn towards a better equipped tent.


    Once the silencing tool was in place in the new tent, she cast another flurry of spells on the tattered boy while sending an awkward glance towards the bawling hero leaned over the bed where the mystery boy lay.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be ok, kinda.¡± Filia explains knowing full well that the hero was too shocked to hear her words. ¡®I just hope the same can be said for you.¡¯ Sighing to herself she settles into a nearby desk and begins penning down a long note. With reluctant expression she writes a few final words and folds the paper into an envelope. ¡°Have him open it when he wakes up.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Glancing to Bonze who seem to be looking at Aryn with a reluctant expression she grows a pitying grin. ¡°Last chance.¡±


    Huffing in response to her, Filia chuckles with a shrug.


    ¡°Come on then, we¡¯re finally done here.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Bonze agrees, following after Filia and shutting the buttons of the tent behind him.


    Watching the old man huff for a second time Filia similarly emits another pitying chuckle. ¡°Must be how humans feel when giving away their daughters.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what I¡¯m feeling.¡± Bonze responds taking a step and vanishing from the camp with Filia closely in tow. ¡°It would be as easy as flicking a candle wick.¡±


    ¡°Mhm, it would¡¯ve been.¡± Filia mocks as she follows behind her senile old king.


    ??¨„??¨„


    ¡°I killed Rhun.¡±


    Those empty words echoing in the silent tent awoke the hero from her daydream. Lifting her face from the rough blanket a conflicted, pained, smile forms as she nods.


    ¡°Th¡­¡±


    ¡°And from the looks of it, I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be the only friend I take from you.¡±


    Dropping the letter he had discovered on the bedside Aryn extends a hand towards Noel¡¯s while maintaining direct eye contact. ¡°Unfortunately, I just can¡¯t let this be your choice.¡±


    Before the words could even fully register in the still groggy mind of the hero, she felt a cold lump in between her palm and ¡®Bag¡¯s¡¯. The unmistakable sensation of flowing mana followed shortly after as her fist was clenched around the hilt by Aryn¡¯s weak grip.


    ¡°Wh¡­¡± Noel begins to ask as she looks down at the familiar sword locked in her grasp, but before her word could finish the pulse had grown through the entire blade and light was now overflowing from within the small tent.


    Eventually after a blinding moment, the light wanes and finally coalesces into the spine of the blade, a feeling of great relief drifted over Noel as the sword accepted her. But aside from the feeling was another she couldn¡¯t grasp.


    ¡°Now it¡¯s over.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®it¡¯s over¡¯?¡± Noel refutes in disbelief, ¡°It¡¯s just getting started, now that I have the sword I can¡­¡±


    ¡°Like I¡¯ve said, it¡¯s over. I can feel it, his voice is already gone.¡± Aryn again counters with a shake of his head. ¡°Someone ought to be reporting it fairly soon. I know this is probably a lot to take in. I¡¯ll do my best to explain.¡±


    ¡°The tr¡­¡± Noel begins to ask while resting her eyes on the letter laying on the blanket beside ¡®Bag¡¯.


    ¡°It seems I wasn¡¯t the only one who met the things of legends.¡±


    ¡°Is that Filia¡¯s handwriting? What does she have to do wi¡­¡± The words seem to choke in Noel¡¯s throat as she notices the tear dripping down her cheek. ¡°Why am I crying?¡±


    ¡°This sword has only one purpose. You must understand what an ultimate weapon is, right?¡± Tapping the still pulsing blade with a finger Aryn returns a sympathetic look towards the hero. ¡°Maybe you had some faint suspicions already? In any case, I¡¯m sorry for making you a tool. A tool of, my revenge, La¡¯s victory, and that senile king¡¯s suicide.¡±


    ¡°La, Senile king?¡± An unknown voice asks, causing no shock to Aryn.


    ¡°She went by Filia here, I guess. I hadn¡¯t even imagined she could still be alive, but it would explain a few things. Ah, I suppose its sacrilegious to speak about another royalty in your presence, huh? Fortunately, he¡¯s dead now too, so your father can finally consider himself the only king. It¡¯s a pretty rare opportunity. But not necessarily the blessing one might think. If you think about it, the three of us were the only winners in all this.


    La proved that she and her brother¡¯s creations were ultimately superior to the most powerful demon.


    I was able to wreck my revenge.


    And the demon king was able to get the peace he supposedly yearned for.¡±


    ¡°And what do you all get in return.


    An unbalanced, unstable world.


    And a genocide forced into your hands by an era long dead.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it a fair trade.¡± Aryn finish with a deep sigh as the sword once again vanish from the bed back into the recess of the armory.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ I¡­¡±


    ¡°So, my coming to report was entirely pointless then¡­¡± The well-dressed man in the doorway nods with a serious expression. ¡°The hero¡¯s sword is truly a terrifying weapon as described. I really didn¡¯t expect my sister¡¯s prophecy to be so on the nose.¡±


    Bowing his stiff body carefully Aryn breaths deeply before speaking in the tone hammered into him by the months of nobility lessons. ¡°I apologize for my tardiness, I¡¯m Aryn Hyde, Wolfbourne Court Adjunct, and Bearer of the Hero¡¯s Armory. With this my duty is complete, I am prepared to accept the punishment for my actions.¡±

 26.

    The Prince hadn¡¯t understood why Aryn had asked for such a thing on the day the war ended. But as they trekked further into the demon lands, and as the prince learned snippets of Aryn¡¯s prior situation. Well, to be honest, he still couldn¡¯t entirely understand.


    Mostly the Prince only felt pity, in his mind this boy is a rabbit holding the touch of death. To punish him seemed like telling a songbird not to sing. His greatest crime was completing his task, and his greatest betrayal to humanity was the very same.


    The society they found in Kez-Logar was beyond what anyone but Aryn had expected. Tumbled baskets filled with rotting fruit near a shoddy straw doll brought an entirely different level of reality to the generals and troops who attended this ¡®victory parade¡¯. This reality is what the victory was bought with.


    What had they expected to find though? Cannibal¡¯s living naked in caves?


    It¡¯s never that black and white. If it were, how would the world be colorful?


    Despite the victory in their hearts no one in the massive group said a word while passing through the ¡®city¡¯ surrounding the demon lord¡¯s castle. Even the jubilation they felt when finding the throne empty as expected, was a silent one at most.


    The war was over but a few of them felt as though they had lost something in winning it this way. A flick of a wrist had collapsed a society that spanned eons longer than history itself. A strong wind had blown away living history.


    Wordlessly venturing back in the direction they had come, many people wondered if they could truly explain what they were feeling to those who hadn¡¯t seen these hollow ancient streets. To the ones still celebrating in the capital and around the world, none of them would be able comprehend the pit in these soldiers¡¯ hearts if they were told of it.


    But should they? It¡¯s hard to say, many of these people have lost families, lovers, friends. Is this deserved retribution any less than what was wreaked?


    It¡¯s hard to say. But, what¡¯s done is done. Aryn¡¯s conscious was clear.


    Or so he had expected, but it¡¯s never that black and white.


    ¡°Armory bearer, I¡¯ve decided your punishment.¡± The prince quietly announces to the silent couple once the final soldier passes through the vacant gateway out of the demon capital behind them. ¡°Until your dying breath, I task you with telling humanities story, in detail, like you did with the H¡ª Noel and I. Tell about this ¡®victory¡¯ and the deeper meanings behind it.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°If it will help me atone for my failures then¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me make one thing clear, in my eyes you have committed no failures in the process of your duties. Your story indicates that you chose perhaps the only path that would allow for this victorious outcome. You were tasked with surviving, and you did. You were tasked with presenting the hero the sword, and you did. You were able to do what would have taken thousands of years, and hundreds, or even thousands, of people, before your eighteenth birthday. How is it that you failed exactly? If it weren¡¯t for your actions who¡¯s to say if the sword would have ever arrived?¡±


    ¡°The prince is right! And if you think about it, the only reason I¡¯m standing here today is because I met you. So, will you count my life as your failure as well? Afterall, I wouldn¡¯t even be the hero if we hadn¡¯t met.¡±


    Noel¡¯s words, in particular, were difficult for Aryn to dispute. And in more ways than just one.


    ¡°Indeed, your deeds are ones that have already become that of legend. Apart from the ones regarding the hero there are very few tales that don¡¯t have your shadow in them. For that reason, disregarding your earlier request, I will personally plead with my father to award you with the highest civilian-achievement rank possible. I¡¯ll personally see to it so that you never have a need for the rest of your life.¡± Punctuating his words with a deep bow the Prince rejoins with an awaiting carriage that briskly take off as soon as he steps up.


    ¡°So he says, and then doesn¡¯t even bother to offer us a ride?¡± Noel gripes after the carriage was a safe enough distance away, and the witnessing soldiers had dispersed back towards their respective squad encampments. ¡°I suppose he must be in a hurry to get his reward.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± He had a hundred questions, and a thousand things to say, but Aryn couldn¡¯t seem to breathe a word.


    ¡°Are you so struck by my mature beauty that you are speechless?¡± Queries Noel with a giggle at the sight of Aryn¡¯s flustered face. ¡°Wait¡­ I¡¯m actually older than you. Explain to me how that make sense again?¡±


    ¡°You were a child less than a month ago in my timeline. If we are basing my age off that, then I might have turned seventeen sometime this month. If we are basing my age on the timeline outside, then I¡¯m probably at least seven thousand years old. So, you best treat me like an elder from now on.¡±


    Noel had an uncertain expression on her face for a few moments as a couple thoughts compounded about Aryn¡¯s various explanations about life inside the hero¡¯s armory.


    ¡°Could you see from inside there?¡±


    That¡¯s what she picked up on? Honestly this wasn¡¯t the question Aryn anticipated, and Noel¡¯s cautious expression as she awaited his response was another thing he hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°Vision is underrated.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t laugh! What did you see?!¡± Noel cries as a sputter of laughter comes from Aryn¡¯s throat.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t, I couldn¡¯t see anything.¡±


    Noel didn¡¯t seem entirely convinced but she wasn¡¯t quick to pursue it for some reason. She appeared to have other things on her mind as well, but like Aryn, she wasn¡¯t able to broach it with ease.


    As the two quietly continued down the trail, they both shared similar thought patterns. The question on their minds is ¡®what happens now¡¯?


    The demons had their world destroyed, but the same could be said for them two.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Noel hesitantly began before rethinking her approach. ¡°If you don¡¯t know where to go, I have a house in the capital. You could live t¡­ we could live together, again, if you want.¡±


    ¡°Just like old times?¡±


    ¡°Just like old times.¡±

 27. [The Conclusion]

    ¡°If you say, ¡®best night of sleep I¡¯ve had in almost ten-thousand years¡¯ one more time, I will purge you from this planet without a hint of hesitation.¡±


    Aryn who¡¯d just stepped out of his bedroom in their shared house, fully prepared with the line felt a bit deflated after this immediate threat. Had he become that predictable?


    The two had now been living together for over a month, the period of awkwardness that once existed quickly vanished as they found their rhythms in the odd friendship.


    At first neither was exactly sure what would become of them now that the fighting was over, Noel was offered an honorary position in the royal guard but she readily denied it. The same was true for Aryn, he¡¯d been offered governorship of the newly formed territory where the demons once resided, the ancient city alone is probably worth billions in tourism revenue, but no amount of gold or resource rights would sway his quick decision against it.


    Of course, this is royalty we are talking about so it¡¯s not as if the two could entirely forgo rewards. Refusing the first offer is seen as a move of modesty, but a second refusal might as well be considered treason. There¡¯s only so much goodwill one can shrug off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be pretty busy today so I might not see you till tomorrow, anything you need at the market?¡±


    Aryn¡¯s shocked expression was precisely what Noel was going for.


    ¡°Your joking, right? You said you were coming, if you don¡¯t I¡¯ll have to change my whole speech!¡± Aryn frantically panted ripping the speech from the table and ripping it up in frustration.


    ¡°I¡¯m kidding. I¡¯m kidding.¡± Noel quickly backpedals with a guilty expression, she had expected only a slight pout, the outburst was a genuine surprise out of the normally iron-hearted armory bearer.


    ¡°I knew you were.¡± Aryn shrugs unfolding the paper with a nonchalant grin.


    Realizing she had been had Noel was almost tempted to forgo the opening ceremony like she claimed, but she knew that was far too shortsighted of a move. ¡°The fact that they left such a swindler in control of so much of humanity¡¯s fortune is a huge mistake.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you don¡¯t have to tell me that, I¡¯ll remind you that I expected to be tortured or interrogated, not rewarded and celebrated.¡±


    Indeed, Aryn had retained the hero¡¯s vessel despite the iffy argument over the ownership. Perhaps this was a show of good faith from the royal family, but half the reason is probably the fact that the two can no longer be considered separate entities.


    In truth it should be the possession of the hero, but ¡®what¡¯s a hero after the war is over?¡¯, or so she says. In any case, since the vessel itself is now Aryn¡¯s body, and the hero wasn¡¯t interested in pursuing the riches inside, there¡¯s not much anyone could say.


    Besides, many of the treasures are about to be shared with the public, so even the most persistent nobles didn¡¯t have much ground to stand on in their complaints.


    ??¨„??¨„


    The structure Aryn received as part of the arrangement was a manor on the outskirts of the city which mysteriously lost its owner sometime during the finale of the war. The implication was obvious, but nobody ever seemed willing to state the fact aloud.


    The various bedrooms, parlors, and den¡¯s were arranged into individual exhibits. Some rooms would focus on a specific period, like the one which conceptualized the world Heather lived in with a variety of drawings and mockups. Other¡¯s compared the craftsmanship of simple artifacts like swords, and the changes that occurred over generations of mastery.


    The room that drew the most interest however was either, the demonic history book, or the ¡®final bearer¡¯s tale¡¯ which was embarrassingly etched on a huge stone monolith without the caretaker¡¯s knowledge.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Once the ¡®honorary first group¡¯ finally arrived back at the well adorned central lobby of the museum, they could tell Aryn was awaiting their opinions.


    The look of anticipation was clearly written across his face as he glanced between the two he was most well acquainted with amongst the various special guests.


    ¡°I think it was fascinating! I¡¯m curious now about the defense system this highly advanced period possessed. ¡®Magic explosions without the need for a mage¡¯ was your conjecture, right? I wonder what type of device could be capable of that? And where did they source all of this mana they piped into their homes?¡±


    ¡°Is that ¡®infinity flask¡¯ exhibit truly refilling the capital¡¯s well like it said on the plaque?¡±


    ¡°Idiot! Why do you think the wet-works team has been frantically galloping around these past two weeks?¡±


    That was an incidental occurrence. Aryn wanted an interesting way of showing off the spare infinity flask but he had no way of dealing with the water fast enough. A single mention to the prince, and engineers had set to work carving a vast water channel for the museum. It was also the prince¡¯s idea to add a mention of this fact to the plaque explaining the exhibit.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done excellent work.¡±


    The youngest prince who had originally tasked Aryn with this job looked genuinely amazed by the progress. He thought maybe Aryn would write a book or dictate the story to a minstrel, wasting his reward and even relinquishing countless treasures was never within his expectations. He felt a bit guilty, as if he was the only one who had truly been rewarded for their joint efforts.


    ¡°All the jewelry is so beautiful! But is that giant diamond as dangerous as it said on the plaque?¡±


    Beside the now blushing prince was a chirpy young woman with glimmering eyes. Aryn couldn¡¯t help but look at the two with a wry smile whenever in their presence. In Aryn¡¯s mind the man had chosen a rather fitting reward given the circumstances.


    Remembering the woman¡¯s questions after exchanging a few more coy grins, Aryn nods a response, ¡°It is. It nearly killed me once already. If it fell into the wrong hands it could become the most dangerous weapon in the world.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried then?! Won¡¯t this museum be cursed or something?¡±


    The prince beside this former maid girl seem to share a worried expression as he realized what the object truly was. And then he noticed Aryn¡¯s smug expression and thought about it a moment longer.


    ¡°Is it a replica?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Aryn shrugs with a nonchalant expression ¡°Ah, right. I wanted to say a few words to commemorate this event while everyone is still gathered.¡±


    Retrieving the speech with a flick of his wrist, Aryn chuckles and an idea dawns on him.


    He would clear his throat then hold the speech card up to begin, only to squint momentarily and then quickly retrieve a pair of glasses to ¡®better sell the speech¡¯, as Lotil would have eloquently put it. It felt natural seeing as though she never had a chance to enact that final play of hers.


    With little time to spare Aryn quickly began the first stage of the performance, and even produced the case the King¡¯s butler had placed on him, only to find it mysteriously empty apart from a small scarp of paper. Perhaps it was another copy of his speech?


    Oh well. I¡¯ll worry about that later. Forget the glasses bit.


    ¡°First, I¡¯d like to thank you all for coming. We¡¯re honored to be joined by not one, but three members of the royal family. Princess Liallia, Prince Leo, and of course Lady Hazel. We also have champions of war, Lord Talos, General Hauk, Hero Noel. I want to thank you sincerely for taking the time out of your busy days to celebrate here with us.


    This is obviously a celebration of more than just this petty inauguration though. Today we all once again celebrate the same thing we have been for the past two months.


    This victory we attained; it¡¯s more than just an end to a war, everyone must have realized that by now. This museum itself shows just how much of our history has been without our control. How much of humanities efforts have been squandered by outside forces. But today that¡¯s different, today we are living amid our own history for the first time. And it will be the same tomorrow.


    It may be true that we no longer have the security of spoon-fed visions, but we also need not fear the eyes hidden-in-plain-sight¡¯s shadow any longer. We are no longer within someone¡¯s plan, so our history is ours to craft. I think that makes it even more fitting that this city¡¯s first museum would be one dedicated to history.


    I hope that people can learn from this museum, so that someday we¡¯ll truly see these artifacts as our past.¡±


    Aryn felt like his former-liege would¡¯ve appreciated the no-nonsense nature of this simple speech he¡¯d written for the occasion. He couldn¡¯t help but remember again the, still pocketed away, words that were originally written by the now legendary king. He must have wrote them despite knowing that they would never be read.


    Chuckling to himself Aryn retrieves the crisp folded sheet from within the ancient glasses case, hoping to find a few final words to add from the old King himself.


    Unlike the letters left in the hero¡¯s vessel however, he immediately realized these words were never meant for that audience. Shaking his head with a startled expression and folding it back up rapidly, Aryn, with hollowed expression, hastily nods to a nearby assistant who instructs a variety of former maids and butlers to begin distributing glasses of a pale wine and an assortment of small cakes and cookies.


    Of course, as instructed, one lone tray was filled with nothing but shortbread cookies, but it was unclear why Aryn looked towards it with such an assortment of emotions while clutching that small scrap of paper.


    End