Chapter 19: The ruined Hero (2)

Holbeck was a small town of Angel’s Crown located near the western borders. Simple and rustic, it was just like any other town one could find. The people there dealt mostly with farming and merchants passing by. Aside from the occasional skirmishes between Scyentia and Angel’s Crown which never really escalated into anything serious beyond their borders, Holbeck could be said to be as normal as a town could get. Nothing special, nothing memorable. That was the way it has always been and was supposed to be in the future until ten years ago when a certain incident happened and its tranquility was broken. Holbeck became the talk of the entire world, but not in the way it wanted.

Until a few days before this incident, Ruk was just a simple huntsman living at Holbeck with his family: his elderly parents who took care of him for all their lives, his dear wife who accepted him despite his lowly status and his precious son who was to him his most prized treasure. As usual, Ruk would often go on a tripping hunt with his son. This time however, instead of a day trip, Ruk decided to take a long run to prepare for the coming winter. With the cold taking over, animals would go out less and it would be a lot harder to hunt. Facing this crisis, Ruk wondered if he should take his son with him as the hunt this time would be harsher than usual. Although before making any conclusion, perhaps he should ask what his son wanted first. Considering how the boy was so enthusiast each time, there was little doubt that he would beg to accompany his father. But reality was quite astonishing. The son wanted to stay behind this time. When asked why, he said “The Hero is coming.”

Indeed, that day, the silence of this calm town was broken by the news of the Chosen Hero coming to town. No one, not even the mayor, was informed of this and they only learnt of this from merchants who passed by earlier. Why did the Chosen Hero come to this forsaken town? No one bothered to think of the reason but instead focused only on rushing to the gate in order to catch a glimpse of the young Hero. Despite being slightly disappointed by the fact that his son chose the Hero over him, Ruk still fulfilled his fatherly duties by taking his kid to see the Hero. Ruk was just another ordinary country bumpkin who has never ventured outside his hometown since his birth. He didn’t really understand the fuss about this hero business. The Chosen Hero might be a mighty warrior but what did that have to do with him? A new king or a new hero, what was that going to change?

Because the family lived at the other side of town, it took him and his son a while to get to the gate. By the time they arrived, it was already filled. The gate was crowded with people who heard the news. When was the last time everyone got so upbeat over something? Ruk asked himself. He couldn’t remember seeing so many people at one place except for the annuals carnivals. And even then, there was not this much people here. It was as if the whole town has gathered at this place. Standing behind the lines, Ruk carried his son above his head so the boy could catch a glimpse of his champion.

Ever since the establishment of the Angelic Faith, a Hero has always been chosen as the upholder of justice. Unlike the previous regime in which a Hero was only chosen in dire times, the church decided that there must be always a Hero to guide the people and to serve as a symbol of authority as well as lawfulness. In short, the Chosen Hero was the face of the church but at the same time the commander of the church’s own force. More than often, a Hero wielded tremendous powers and must have proved himself through his deeds. Only when he or she was recognized by the public as a legitimate candidate through various ways, could the church announce them as their official Chosen Hero. It was a system designed to avoid the church picking someone as their puppet but also to prove transparency.

So, what was the job of a Hero, you might ask? Especially when it was not war time or during a catastrophic event, why did the people even need a Hero? The answer, unfortunately, lied in the dark sides of men. No matter what the era was, there would always be evil lurking from the shadows. They might not be doing anything just yet but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. It was the duties of the Chosen Hero to root out these sources of evil. Always!

Back to Ruk, thankfully the guy was quite tall himself so he too was able to see the Chosen Hero from behind the lines. Dark spiky short hair wearing dark clothing with black eyes, the young man was barely eighteen and already accomplished the heights of his fame. So, this was the infamous Chosen Hero who saved a city all by himself. Ruk has heard about the severity of the recent conflict with the Fiends and it was hard to believe that this young man not only emerged victory from it but also in the most majestic way possible. But all well, everyone told him that this was all thanks to the new Chosen Hero so it must be true. That was all the amount Ruk cared about. It didn’t really matter what happened. The conflict fortunately did not take place anywhere near Holbeck and since all agreed on the subject, Ruk had no problem with that. As long as his normal life could continue. Although, he did find this new Chosen Hero to be slightly somber with his attire. While his face looked very cheerful and gentle, the dark color of his clothing looked more like something an assassin or a villain would wear than the brightly white attire of the man beside him. Ashen beard while holding a golden sword, the man accompanying the Chosen Hero was master Gregory, the previous Hero.

From what the news have spread, and indeed they spread very quickly in these countryside regions, the new Chosen Hero, Karuma, was not in fact related to the Angelic Faith in anyway before the conflict. That was a surprising point considering how many Chosen Heroes were actually students of the previous Heroes. A student taking over their teacher’s duties, that was a common sight. However, Karuma was never a student of master Gregory. In fact, the old master had already a candidate of his choosing that he raised and taught everything he knew. At least he did until Karuma was chosen as a replacement. Not much was known whether or not master Gregory liked this new candidate or not but in the end, it did not matter. Karuma became the new Chosen Hero and the people has accepted him as their protector. That was what mattered.

Still, Ruk did not understand these two important figures would come to Holbeck all of the sudden. If it was some sort of state visit, it should have been planned months ago. However, no one really found out until they arrived here. Asking the merchants, Ruk found out that the news came by coincidence as someone who met the two heroes on their way to Holbeck. No other town or official was informed of this sudden visit. Still, Ruk was a simple-minded man. He didn’t really think through the subject. A peasant like him should not get involved in politics, that was what he told himself. Little did he know how much he would regret that decision in a very near future.

The next day, Ruk departed from his home and went on his one-week hunt. It was a morning like any other. Saying goodbye to his parents, kissing his lovely wife and patting his son’s head, the man did not suspect anything. He had no reason to. Nothing was out of place. Why should he be even worried? It was not like this was his first long trip by himself. His family should be safe and waiting for him at home with a hot soup like usual. And if anything, with two heroes in town, this place should be among the safest around the world. And so Ruk left his home, not knowing that it would be his last time seeing it.

A week later, Ruk returned, only to find nothing. There was no one waiting for him. There was no soup on the table. There was no home to return to. The town was gone, literally gone. The ground was charcoaled to ashes and a crater now stood where Holbeck once was. Everything was gone. His home, his family, everything. The desperate man searched for answers but no one could give him a proper one. A few months later, Ruk, who has been spending his time drinking to death, learnt of a terrifying news. The young Chosen Hero has apparently been found and it was him who caused the destruction of Holbeck. At the time, poor Ruk has been rendered senseless by the alcohol. His stoned mind was filled with only one desire: revenge. He rushed to the trial, preparing himself for the worst. If the church tried to cover up their Hero’s wrong doings by releasing him, Ruk would do the deeds himself. At the end of this day, either Ruk or that bastard Hero died, Ruk swore to himself.

But by the time Ruk arrived at the court’s door, Ruk found out that a ruling has already been declared: Karuma was found guilty but because of his previous achievement, he was pardoned by the king and exiled to the High Walls, never to return. The ruling of course did not seat well with the people waiting outside as well as many officials participating in the trial. The mass charged at the door, only to be stopped by the many guards who tried to pave a way. Ruk, holding his axe tightly, prepared himself. He expected to see a pompous punk who thought he was above the law and could get away with any crime. If that was the case, Ruk would have no hesitation to charge through the guards and cut him down. And he was surely not the only one who shared that idea.

The moment Karuma walked out of the courtroom, he was rained down with spoiled eggs and rotten vegetables among many other trashes accompanied with countless insults and curses from the crowd. The guards should have shielded the poor guy from the rocks but they too did not care for that. They were only doing what they were ordered to by the king: escorting Karuma to the High Walls. If left for their own judgment, it was likely that the Chosen Hero would not even make it to the door. Humiliated, shamed, defamed, dishonored, cast out, ruined, the once acclaimed Chosen Hero became a target of hatred as he walked down the streets of the capital. With his arms and legs bound by chains, it would be easy to finish him off. Ruk told himself. He was ready to charge through. With the guards so careless, he could make it. But the moment the lost father of a once happy family laid his eyes on the passing Hero, his hands didn’t move. Why was it that he couldn’t move? Surely he did not hesitate now of all time. What did he see in this young man that shattered his firm conviction?

The young man he saw at Holbeck was not here. If he was, then Ruk certainly did not recognize him as the same man. The solemn aura around the former Chosen Hero was not that of a pompous punk but that of a grown man in mourning. That cheerful expression, the only one Ruk knew of the Hero, was not there. A bloodied bandage covered the young man’s eyes. Did someone have the same idea as Ruk and attacked him? That simple detail escaped Ruk’s mind. The crowd followed the poor soul while continuing with their bombardment of junk and scorns, leaving a lone man behind as he watched in awe.

It was only much later that Ruk regained himself. When he finally got back, the man asked himself why he didn’t do it. Why he didn’t kill the fucking bastard who ruined his family. But those thoughts went well beyond the simple mind of an ordinary hunter. In the end, he continued to blame himself for his cowardice for being unable to take revenge. That was when he made a vow: to finish what his past self couldn’t when the time came. Eventually, that vow went unfulfilled for many years and the man moved on. Ruk found himself a new family, with a new wife who accepted him and who granted him a new child. He loved them both, just as he did with his former family. For ten years, he lived what we could call a happy life. They weren’t rich but they had each other to support them. But that tiny desire for vengeance back then did not disappear. It remained, waiting patiently for the fateful time.

* * *

Ruk recalled his past as he told Astora his story. The group listened silently, knowing not what to say. Pete and Wedge have already heard the story from Ruk but it got to them every time. As for Astora, the girl has heard plenty of hateful things from outsiders who cursed Karuma. But to hear it from a victim himself, it was different. Indeed, it was filled with hatred just like others, only at a much deeper level and mixed together with the taste of sorrow. The pain of losing a loved one, she knew it too well to sympathize with Ruk. The girl started to wonder if searching for Karuma was the right thing to do. She only did it based on the recommendation of an old geezer she knew from a bar, not exactly something one would call a sound advice.

“Now that I told you my side of the story, let me give you a fair warning! I don’t know what you are planning to do with Karuma and to be honest, I don’t care. However, if you intend to disrupt me in any way, I will fucking murder you. Keep that in mind!” Ruk said sternly and went ahead as he took over the task of clearing the way from Valanor. Waving his axe violently, it seemed he was trying to vent out his anger but also to strengthen his resolve.

The next part of the journey was eerily quiet. The black forest was deadly calm while the group silently moved toward their next destination. They were all exhausted from the expedition and it was about time for a break. Suddenly, out of nowhere, something rushed out of the thorny bushes and jumped at the seemingly most vulnerable target, Astora. With her spoon in her hand, Astora used it to defend herself against the vicious fangs and teeth baring at her by the beast. The size of a grown man on four legs, the beast possessed three dark pointy horns on its head. There was no mistake, this thing was a horned wolf. However, something seemed strange about them. Normally, the horns would be stone-like and as hard as steel. Yet, in this case, the horns seemed to be made of a crystal gem material quite familiar to a certain flower the group saw from earlier. And their grayish fur has been tainted with a black hue as dark as night. Considering the living environment around her, it would make a perfect disguise for the wolf if it had the same color as its surroundings.

“Miss Astora!” Valanor quickly used his magical brush and flailed the wolf, making it releasing its grip on the girl and went back into the bushes. Thankfully, she was not injured.

“Be careful! It is not alone.” Ruk shouted. His vast experience as a hunter has already warned him of the incoming danger. Wolves never hunted alone but in packs. And just as he predicted, several howls could be heard from afar along with multiples quick steps approaching. The group quickly gathered and formed a circle with their backs against each other, preparing themselves. The packs were coming. “Incoming!”

It would be suicidal to see the horned wolves as mere common monsters. Despite being at low rank, these beasts almost never attacked alone, making the real threat much more dangerous than one would think to be. Furthermore, it was one of the few low-level monsters that actually had access to magic. Their stone horns stored electricity generated from inside them and shot out lightning arcs that could paralyze or even kill unaware adventurers. The more horns one wolf had, the higher its power among its pack. In addition, the more horned wolves there were in the area, the more intense the electricity was and the better they coordinated their attack. In summary, the horned wolves were formidable foes for any adventurer and should not be underestimated.

With a terrifying howl, two wolves came from opposite directions and jumped at the group. One was parried by Ruk’s axe and pushed down onto the ground where it met its end at the hands of Wedge and Pete. The three seemingly fought as one with Ruk as the vanguard, Pete a ranger with his crossbow and Wedge the fighter with sword and shield.

“” A circle of blue flame surrounded the group and began to expand, chasing down the wolves hiding behind the dense vegetation.

“Damn, I didn’t know that you are a sorcerer.” Wedge cheered. “So that funny spoon is your wand.”

“No, it is not!” Astora angrily slammed the spoon on the head of an incoming wolf, knocking it down instantly. It seemed that the paralyzing effect of the spoon worked wonderfully.

Normally, it would not be such a good tactic to surround themselves with fire as it stopped all escape paths, not to mention the intense heat and smoke emitted by the fire. In this situation however, that was not the case. The Flames of Gehenna burned all but strangely did not emit any heat. They were also perfectly controlled by Astora, making them virtually not threatening to the group. Should there be a need for escape, the fire would simply make a way for them.

Unable to charge through, the wolves began to resort to their magic, charging purple lightning arcs with their crystal horns. The lightning not only fried what was in its surroundings but also travelled from one wolf to another through their horns, increasing in intensity. The wolves were preparing something.

“This is bad!” Ruk uttered, clenching his axe. The electricity has converged toward the three-horned wolf that seemed to be the leader of the pack. Facing the group, the creature fired a purple plasma beam.

“GRIMORA!” Astora nullified the attack with the power of her grimoire by absorbing the beam into the book. But while she was preoccupied, a second attack came from another direction. The leader of the pack has already anticipated this situation where its attack could be rendered useless and has ordered a second unit to jump across the flames. Their target: Astora!

“Look out!” One wolf was cut down by Ruk. Another shot down by Pete and Wegde bashed it away. Valanor also took out two others with his flailing brush.

But the last one got through. Leaping at the girl violently, the wolf pushed Astora away from the safe zone inside the circle of fire, outside the cleared path and down the thorny path. Her skin, lacerated by the dry branches. Her head, hit several times by the hardened soil. Then when she finally arrived at the bottom, the momentum threw her away a few more feet. Lucky for her, there was no sharp grass in that zone or else she would have not survived. However, the girl was badly hurt. There were cuts all over her body and her head had a minor concussion from all the beatings. Even worse, she was now in some kind of cave with only one entrance and that entrance was now barred by the thing that pushed her down here. Yet, strangely, the beast dared not enter the cave. It clearly tried to but something prevented it from doing so. Merely stepping one foot inside hurt the wolf badly, as if it was burned by a holy power. Unable to enter, the wolf could only watch from beyond the small entrance of the cave, vexed by the fact that its prey has gotten away. Eventually, it turned back and went away, abandoning the thought of getting the girl today. But what stopped it from entering?

Now that Astora got a chance to breath, she just realized that despite having openings aside from the entrance, the inside of the cave was somehow illuminated dimly by a certain object located at the center of the cave. Although certain corners of the room were still very dark, almost impossible to see. Some kind of luminescent stick that emitted a white light was stuck into the ground. So that was the source of the light. And further beyond that, at the other side of the side where the light was strongest, a large mural that was the size of the entire wall could be seen.

“What is that?” Astora asked herself. She slowly stood up and approached the mural.

The engraving was dusty, proof of its ages. It depicted a man wearing a crown being worshipped by many other figures around him. Two other figures stood by the man’ side instead of kneeling like the others. From the facial expression alone, it looked like a man and a woman. Perhaps they were his servants or aids or something similar. Then the most important figure of all, the man who wore the crown. The person must be some sort of king based on how he had many worshippers and the obvious crown above his head. However, there was two aspects that seemed a bit unusual. First of all, the king was unusually taller than how the others were depicted, about twice as large. Then again, it could be that the composer of this work wanted to show the dominance and important status of the person. It was not uncommon to see such technique in ancient murals, at least according to the books on ancient history Astora read during her free time. However, if that was the case, then it conflicted with the second aspect. The king had no face, unlike his many followers who all had one. Wouldn’t it normally be the opposite? The important figure usually had a face while the commoners or the mass had none. Not only did that make the job easier to carve the mural, but it also showed the importance of the person with the face. Yet, in this situation, it was not the case.

The mural continued on to the other sides of the walls. This time, the scene suddenly became grimmer. The king, holding two blades in his hand, stood in front of a round table sat by headless men, watching their decapitated heads on the ground, all looking at him with hateful eyes. Just what has transpired between the last scene and this one? It felt like something was missing.

Then in the next mural, the king was on his knees surrounded by people who now were pointing at him with anger. A man with wings on his back stood in front of the king, putting his sword on the king’s neck. So, the king was judged guilty of his crimes and was about to be executed. At least that was what appeared to Astora. The girl looked forward onto the next piece but there was none. That was the last mural. So, what happened? Did the king die? Who was the man with wings on his back? What happened after that? Surely it couldn’t end like this.

All of a sudden, the air changed and a swift wind passed by Astora. Before she knew it, a blade was already up her neck.

“Who sent you here?” the person from behind holding the blade questioned menacingly. The voice implied a young male.

“…No one.” Astora replied nervously.

“Am I supposed to believe such obvious lie?” mocked the stranger, closing in the blade to Astora’ skin.

“It is true. I am with the expedition team. But on our way, we got attacked by a pack of wolves and I fell down here.” Astora told the truth, only hiding her true goal for coming here.

“….” The stranger was weighing his options. Believing the girl’ story or not, there was something very peculiar about this girl that made him unable to trust her. Something the man himself was familiar with.

“UNHAND HER!” a loud voice came from the entrance. Something elongated caught the stranger’s arm and pulled him away from Astora, making him release his grip on the girl. Astora, recognizing the voice of her companion, rushed to the entrance.

“You are safe, miss Astora!” Pete and Wedge followed in right after Valanor’s grand entrance. Ruk also came right after. Despite being suspicious of Astora’s intention, the man couldn’t let her to die just like that. As the leader of this expedition team, he had a responsibility to keep the members of the group safe and he surely upheld that duty. “Hey, who the hell are you? Attacking one of us like that.”

“…..” the stranger remained silent as he prepared his battle stance, holding two swords, one in each hand. The luminescent stick was right between the two sides, casting its faint white light onto the stranger in the dark cave and revealing his face. Black short hair in black clothing with a long black scarf around his neck, the man seemed to be in his twenties or so. The clothing was slightly ruined, evidence of their uses across many years and living in a harsh environment, like this one right here. A large scar was located in his eyes’ level, right across both with a very clean cut. This person, whoever he was, was blind.

“Who are you?” Valanor asked loudly.

“YOU!” Ruk brushed the fox aside before charging ahead heedlessly. The crimson liquid inside his veins was boiling. His muscle tightened with fierce and his eyes filled with rage. Never would he forget the face of the man who destroyed his family. “KARUMA!!!”