The woman held the kiss for a few seconds before she lifted her other arm and wrapped it around my neck, pulling me closer. Our proximity allowed me to feel just how soft and curved her body was, concealed beneath the robes as it was. She deepened the kiss, parting my lips with her tongue. Her golden eyes fell partially closed, dancing with a playful amusement.

I felt torn as this happened. For all for all the woman’s pale and sallow skin, it was surprisingly soft if her lips were any indication. As cold and cruel as she seemed to hold herself during this meeting, the kiss was remarkably tender and gentle. On the one hand, I wanted to return the kiss, as any red-blooded male would. But there was one big issue. She had tricked my friends and me into killing innocent men and scared the ever-loving hell out of us with nothing more than a glare.

I tried to push her away, but my body refused to listen. My hands rose, and as I wanted to drive her away, they merely fell onto her hips. Her broad and unexpectedly soft hips…

Damn hormones! Why do you choose now to act up!?

Just as I was shrugging off the surprise and gather my strength to push her away, I caught a calculating spark in her stare. Almost seconds later, a searing heat took purchase in my mouth. I jerked in surprise and nearly pulled away, but her arm tightened and held me against her. The flame traveled through my mouth and down my throat, burning and scalding. As it did, my airways began to loosen and open properly, my lungs expanding and accepting air as I tried to breathe through my nose.

Just as my body began to burn, a strength I thought I had lost was swiftly returning to me. I squeezed the woman's hips and tried to push her away, but all I got was an amused twinkle of her eye. She pulled away from me, our lips parting as she exhaled audibly. A faint purple mist swirled from our open mouths as our breaths were in perfect sync. I could breathe clearly and efficiently, but my thoughts flickered with emotion. Anger. Confusion. Desire.

But the thing that struck me the hardest was this: I could breathe without trouble.

I couldn’t bring myself to focus, black forming in the corners of my vision as the woman continued to hold me in her arms. Golden eyes smoldered as her lips closed, then parted. “Will you be-”

The woman was forced to leap backward as a sword swung at her face. She ghosted along the ground, before the back of her cloak exploded outwards, cloth tearing to shreds as a pair of black wings expanded, and she ascended several feet into the air. The wings were pitch black and segmented with two pairs of white talons on both ends. The membrane was a dark purple and filled with translucent veins that seemed to drink in the light. A gust of wind was spurred from a flap of her wings, causing her hood to fly freely and no longer concealed her face. A lightly narrowed heart-shaped face leered down at us, golden eyes full of cruel amusement. Hair, the color of a pale grey that contrasted beautifully with her wings, fell to her chin, with bangs that reached the top of her eyes. Black horns curved out from under her hair and from the sides of her head, branching out into a pair of tapering points that jutted up and forward.

Her face, at least from her forehead to the sides of her eyes, was covered in these sleek black scales. They covered her neck and seemed to trail down to her back and reached down to her shoulders.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?!” Luke growled at her, stepping in front of me. In the midst of my stupor, I was honestly unsure if he was talking to the woman or me.

She simply smiled. It was both beautiful and dangerous if the maddening twinkle in her eyes was any indication. “Making a call.” Her eyes rolled lazily from him to me, before looking to the horizon. Her lips quirked into a smirk. “It seems your precious Royal family has sent their knights.” She hummed and laughed to herself. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She turned, and her wings flapped once more, sending gusts of winds outwards. I broke out of my stupor and felt my anger returning, this time with a vengeance. She peeked over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. “Marshall yourselves, Heroes, for time waits for no one.” With that, she rocketed through the air.

The purple mist I had exhaled finally dispersed to nothingness, but that meant nothing I turned to face the man holding Livvi hostage. Luke grabbed my shoulder, but his next words vanished at the sight of what was in front of me.

Weeping. The woman from the game stall was on her knees, hands outstretched as she stared at what sent my mind a whirl.

The man stared at his hands in horror, a flowing red staining them and his dagger without restraint. Livvi sat on the ground, leaning back against her captor, gasping and hacking as she choked on her blood and the knife still piercing her throat.

My entire world froze as dread settled deep in my stomach. My vision flickered in and out, unable to look away from the girl, everything in my periphery becoming a nonentity. I didn’t know the expression I had, but when I locked eyes with Livvi, she offered me a shaky smile.

Why? Why are you smiling?!

What is there to be happy about?!

You had so much life ahead of you!

Get angry. Fight. Rage against the world!

You’re dying…

A hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my stupor, and I looked over to Luke. He was giving me a concerned look, his expression notably pallor. “Joey…”

The people around us, who had not retreated to the chapel, were staring at me. Their expressions varied, from shock, to pity, to confusion. I couldn’t bring myself to care, as lost to my grief and anger as I was.

Had I spoken out loud?

“I-I-I didn’t mean to…” The man’s frantic voice pulled my attention again, seeing him staring at the girl in horror. “When that…that witch did whatever that was, I panicked!”

“You held the blade.” The man flinched at the statement, looking to me in fear. He dropped the girl as he scrambled back. She gasped and gagged at the impact, grimacing and crying out in pain.

Her voice broke the phantom chains holding me in place. Shrugging my shoulder out of Luke’s grasp, I began to walk forward. “You held her hostage.” A burning fury settled itself deep in my stomach. The man shook his head at my words but did not respond verbally. “You made that choice.” My voice rumbled from deep within my chest, and I stopped as my foot landed oddly on the ground. I glanced downwards, then looked back to the man.

“No!” He replied quickly, fervently, angrily. “The little girl got in the way!” He shook his head quickly, hair flapping with every movement. “And that damn witch surprised me! You felt it too, didn’t you?!”

“You. Terrified. Her.” Bringing my foot back, I kicked forward and hooked it beneath the object that stopped my movements. The weight of the ax was negligible to the strength I had from reinforcing my body. It shot upwards, and I swiped it out of the air with a contemptuous wave of my hand, fingers wrapping around the haft of the weapon. A tingle raced up my spine as I instantaneously learned and mastered the skills necessary to employ this weapon of war. “You. Hurt. Her.” I snarled and threw the two-bladed ax with a single hand. It sang as it tore through the air, spinning head over haft.

It flew faster than the eye could see before it landed with a meaty thunk. The man cried out in agony as it tore into the left shoulder, curved inwards so that it cut into a portion of his chest. I ignored his cries and tears of pain as I strode over to him, my body moving as if on autopilot as I stewed in my fiery wrath. “You. Killed. Her.”

“J-Joey…”

I froze mid-step at that shaky voice. That tiny, painfully familiar voice. Like a splash of chilled, icy water, my burning rage vanished as I looked to the source. Livvi was looking up to me through half-lidded wavery eyes. My eyes watering, it took all of my willpower to not stumble over to her as I hurried to her side, ignoring everything around me. Crouching at her side, I hesitated as I reached for her. After failing, after letting this happen, did I…

A tiny, shaky hand grasped mine with all the strength of a flighty butterfly. Tossing aside my hesitation, I grasped her hand tightly with mine and used my other to prop her up. She let out a pained gasp, and I felt my heartbreak. “I’m sorry.” My voice broke as I could no longer hold back the tears. Why could I not stop seeing my sister, dammit?

“I’m scared…” She whimpered, blinking rapidly, even as blood continued to poor. It was too late to heal if that was even possible. Too much blood loss, too much time passed.

“Me too,” I said softly, getting a surprised look from her.

“But…a Hero…”

I offered a shaky smile. “Even Heroes get scared.”

“I don…ant to di…” Her voice seemed to give out, but she pushed through, her hand squeezing mine despite her weakness.

“You’ll wake back up,” I said to her, my voice strong despite the tears that continued to flow. She looked up to me with a vague, confused contemplation. “Today felt like a dream, didn’t it? All this fun, all these games. You had fun, right?” She grunted, her eyes not leaving mine. “Then it won’t end. This joy, this happiness, it won’t end so long as you want it.” She grunted again, her tears flowing faster as she smiled up at me, her strength slowly leaving her as her grip loosened.

I reaffirmed my grip on her hand and squeezed it for all it was worth. “I have a sister, you know.” Her eyes gained a hint of light, curiosity in her waning regard. “Younger. So mature. So strong-willed. Had the brightest smile I could remember. Like yours.” I closed my eyes as I tried not to see Maggie in front of me. When I opened them, I locked eyes with Livvi. “When you wake up, I promise that you’ll meet her.”

“…lly?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, smiling proudly. “Maggie couldn’t hate anyone. She’ll adore you, Livvi. Spoil you so much.” I gritted my teeth and leaned forward, holding back the tears as much as I could. “Tell her I love her, alright? Can you do that for me?”

Livvi didn’t answer for the longest time. Her gaze, empty, and hand limp in my grasp. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the tears begin to fall freely.

“…kay…”

My eyes shot open as I looked upon the girl in front of me, a very small, very minute, smile upon her face. Then she was gone. Her tiny face fell slack, mouth dropping open as she stared at the still bright sky. Lifting a hand, I shakily moved it over her eyes and closed them with feather-lite touches. As I put my hand back down, I couldn’t help but muse that without the blood, she appeared to be just sleeping.

Hooking my arms beneath her, I lifted the girl in a princess carry and stood. Blinking away the tears, I turned and scanned the crowd. Subdued, the group was almost painfully quiet as I looked for someone in particular. Then I found her.

Her visual grief was like a punch to the gut, an uncomfortable churn deep in my stomach. She still cried, but it was resigned. My feet were dead weight, and I was almost incapable of taking that step forward. It felt like an eternity, but I was able to walk forward, my footsteps seemingly echoing as I approached the grieving parent. Her pain was infinitely more significant than mine, and I had no excuse, no reason, to flee from this woman, not after my failure.

It was an eternity. Nonstop continuity of time that had passed until I had finally reached the mother. I met her regard, words caught in my throat as her eyes fell upon the girl in my arms. What could you say to someone in this situation? An apology felt so inadequate, almost insulting, in the face of what just occurred. An explanation felt like an excuse, something not worth stating, not worth the breath wasted. The silence was a copout; she deserved something after this catastrophic failure. Heroes…fucking Heroes…said something when things like this inevitably happened.

“She smiled,” I whispered as these words were only for her, no matter how insufficient, to find some comfort. “To the very end, she smiled. No matter how afraid she felt.”

Her eyes widened ever so lightly, even as tears fell. The woman paused, eyes searching mine almost endlessly. Then they softened, still filled with grief. She did not smile, but her countenance was no less kind, accepting. “Thank you.”

Like a twist of a knife, her words struck me. But I said nothing, merely holding out my arms. The woman, the mother, extended her arms as well and took her body from me. My arms fell to my sides as I saw her cradle her child’s body. This mother, who carried her child from birth, now cradled her in death. This mother, whose name I did not know, had my respect in a way that I couldn’t fathom, for not immediately breaking down in sorrow as I saw her countenance crumble as she looked upon Livvi.

I looked away, not wanting to mar that strong visage I had witnessed prior. I could not offer words, for I did not understand the mother's pain. Who could after all? Who would want to?

I couldn’t bear to stand there any longer, to hold still and witness this, so I walked away. I strode passed the mother and child, my path taking me to the crowd. I stared forward, not seeing anything as I looked through the gawking pedestrians, fearing that my earlier anger would resurface. They parted as I reached them, my trek constant and relentless. My steps carried me through the opened path, and I gradually passed the crowd, no longer surrounded by people.

I heard one of my friends call out to me, concern present in their tone, but I paid it no mind. Hell, in my stupor, I didn’t know who it was. I just wanted to get away from everyone. Not much later, a procession of knights surrounding an armored chariot. The horses neighed as they came to a halt. In the bed of the chariot, Emelina was clad in a segmented battle dress, holding a simple wooden staff with a small glass ball atop it, colors swirling in the orb. She was about to climb down, but a hand on her shoulder from a knight wearing a closed helm stopped her.

I ignored them, just walking along a path my unconscious mind took me.

It was as if I had blinked and I was now staring at the mural: the Hero King and his companions.

Why did I come here?

For support?

For answers?

To scream and shout that his job had shitty mental health benefits?

I didn’t know. All I knew was that staring at this image was causing my anger to simmer. I could not look away. I stared and glared with everything I had. There was nothing I could say; nothing I could do. There was nothing I wanted to say.

“I never understood…” I spoke, despite my initial wishes. “Is this what it feels like? When I came here, against my will, I was expected to fight. Expected to fight for people I know nothing about; people I do not care for.” I did not look away, clenching fist tight enough for the knuckles to crack. “I had a family. A little sister I loved and looked after. People I could’ve met and gotten to know. And what happened?” I pointed at the still image, snarling in anger. “A prophecy that came about because you failed!”

I let out a cry, tears still forming at the corners of my eyes. “Because of your weakness, I was ripped from my home to fulfill a damn ‘prophecy’! An excuse for weak-minded fools who can’t ignore prettied words!” My fists clenched as I fought off the urge to hit something, to vent my still rising fury. “People called you a ‘Hero,’ the first to stand up and be victorious against the ‘Demon Lord,’” I said the words with disdain, unable to hold back the scorn I felt for them. “But the truth of the matter is that you failed!”

I stomped my foot, unable to care how childish I looked or acted. I had held myself back long enough. “I don’t see a hero in this image, but a failure that thrust his responsibilities on those that came after him.” I hissed as I let my head fall, fingers sliding into my hair and digging into my scalp.

“All this power I’ve gained, all this skill I’ve done nothing to earn, and it feels like nothing has changed. I still can’t see the wider world for what it truly is. I still can’t venture out and make my own decisions based on what I’ve experienced and seen.” I growled out as I grit my teeth. “Everyone I’ve met, everyone I’ve known, feels like a chain, a shackle, that keeps me from becoming what I wish to be. Expectations that I don’t want, that I want to toss aside, chafe against who I am.”

I tore my gaze from the mural, my breaths heaving and heart pounding. “If this is what it means to be a Hero on Verum…” I squared my shoulders and looked back to the mural, meeting the point where his eyes would be. “Then it seems I won’t become the ‘Hero’ Verum needs. If that makes me selfish, then I’ll embrace that selfishness and live the way I want.” I shook my head as I felt my anger slowly bleed away. “Your shackles will not hold me, ‘Hero King.’ I will stay free until the day I die.”

It wasn’t much, but I felt the weight on my shoulders lightening. A burden I was ignorant of, seemed to have lessened. I felt, not ‘happier’ per se, but…freer. Tired, too, but that’s no doubt because of my earlier fight.

I gave one last tired look at the mural, committing it to memory, then turned my back to it. I would make my own path, my own way through this world. If I were to be a ‘Hero,’ then I’d do it in my own manner, not in the name of someone else.

My gaze fell upon the mural of the Demon King, eyes flickering to the shrouded figure, then to each image of his generals. I felt nothing when I saw it, no draw, no enticement, no fear. Nothing.

With nothing than a sigh, I turned my back on the second mural and strode towards the entrance of the chapel. The sunlight broke through the crack between the double doors. I reached the door, the leather of my shoes lightly tapping the stone floor. Pushing the door open, I saw that people were waiting for me: my friends, the princess and her entourage of knights, and Mr. Lethe. Concern and worry were ever present on the faces of those I knew. Understanding on the faces of the knights I was familiar with and those who helped train me.

I was silent for a few moments, then looked off to the side, into the distance and away from the castle. Long rolling hills and vast plains were all in sight, the feeling of the gently blowing wind caressed my cheeks and sunlight beamed down on us. Longing filled me as I stared into the distance. I was tired of being cooped up, held in one place and ignorant of the world I now inhabited.

An ignorance I wanted to alleviate on my own.

An ignorance I wanted to eradicate.

An ignorance I wanted to discard.

Turning my head, I looked directly into Emelina’s captivating silver eyes and declared. “We need to talk.”

She was surprised by my words, as were my friends, but her expression softened for a moment, eyes regarding me with worry. Upon recognizing my tone, she hardened her mien and nodded once, resolute. “Yes. We shall.”

----

The rest of the day was hectic as Emelina had marshaled her regiment of knights to lock down the surrounding villages, getting everyone in their homes and setting up a protective perimeter around Veritas. She had several routes entering the capital city closed and ordered her forces to thoroughly search through all vital trade caravans needed for the continued support in the town. It was a testament to how loved and respected she was as a princess by the people that there wasn’t much reluctance on their part.

Still, the woman who lost her daughter received the space and support she needed for a proper funeral. She had a family, no husband, but siblings that were there for her. I directed a few knights their way for the more general support they would need in the future, but I could tell that wouldn’t be enough. Nowhere near for what happened.

I didn’t learn about what happened to the man who harmed her, because I didn’t care about him. The repercussions of his attack on Livvi were not my decision to make, but the mother’s herself. When Luke had asked me if I wanted to know, I just shook my head and said nothing more.

Currently, we were all in a wide-open hall within castle grounds. Walls several feet taller than us with tall windows on the walls, with illustriously colored, parted curtains and decorative banners. Several tables lined with a variety of weapons and tools. I stayed away from the rest of my class, with Valeri standing across from me, arms crossed as she too studied the table of weapons.

“Your sword was ruined after the battle, Joseph.” They had stopped calling me ‘Sir’ at my behest. My vehement behest. “Whatever it was that woman did to those men, it made their blood corrosive to steel-based weaponry. Sir Guang’s daggers turned to slag after the battle had ended, drenched in blood as they were.” She offered me a complex expression, one torn between pride and exasperation. “Leaving your sword sheathed in your opponent’s throat isn’t conducive to properly maintaining your weapon, Joseph.”

I snorted despite myself, finding amusement in her playful tone. “Forgive me for being distracted.”

“Forgiven,” She stated softly. “The circumstances surrounding it are ones even more experienced warriors have trouble contending with.” She smiled faintly, “Despite how it ended, you carried yourself in a way that would’ve granted you a commendation, were you a knight of Veritas.”

A nod was all I offered. I didn’t need to say that I felt I didn’t deserve such a thing.

Valeri continued, “Your sword was one pulled from the standard armory, one among many that we give to newly risen squires. As you are outside our command structure but have the favor of the Royal Family, you have the privilege of picking a more professionally crafted weapon.” She motioned to the weapons allayed before me. “Your Affinity is already well-known, so we’ve decided to let you see all of our available weapons.”

I looked at her for confirmation, getting a nod in response. I hummed in assent as I took my time and held each weapon for a few moments, to both get a feel for it and to master it intuitively. After a few minutes, I had done so for every weapon here, and though I had found that I had favored swords, of the hand-and-a-half variety, none of them felt…right.

Seeing my discomfort, Valeri simply nodded. “There is no need to fret. You are not the first to find that what we have available does not fit your needs. It is simply a matter of enlisting a blacksmith to forge what fits you best.”

It was more than that. I didn’t want to lean too much on the Royal Family anymore, considering I wanted to go my own way in the near, very near, future. That was what was holding me back. “What if…”

“I’ll do it.” A voice broke into our conversation, and I looked over to see Amber standing at the edge of the table, her stern countenance locked onto me. At my confused look, she snorted, “Your sword, Joey. I want to forge your new sword.”

“Are you sure?” Valeri asked her, concern warring with a challenge in her tone. Amber gave her a heated look, about to retort, but the knight shook her head. “You do not understand, not fully. Saying such a thing, that you’re willing to forge a weapon made specifically for a single person, is a declaration of intent.” She paused, glancing down at the table full of weapons. “Forging a weapon fit for a Hero, especially for a Hero, is an undertaking only a master blacksmith can commit. Not just because of pride, but because the process of making it is an intense experience.” She shrugged, though her expression was no less serious. “As I am not a smith, I cannot tell you how exactly, but from what ours has explained, it is not for the faint of heart.”

“I don’t care.” Amber immediately retorted, surprising not just me, but Valeri as well. “What just happened, that battle, those deaths, it was terrifying, so hectic, that I could barely comprehend what was going on until afterward.” She clenched her fist and glared at the table, though that was not what she was seeing. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but how often will we have that chance? The opportunity to look back, when death could be around at any corner?” She shook her head, her plait bouncing lightly behind her. “No. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that all of us will survive this. Even if I have to forge everyone’s weapon myself.” She smiled, and it was sharp, pointed as if daring Valeri to challenge her declaration. “Because I’ll be damned if I let my friend go through anything like that again.”

I blinked at Amber’s vehemence but felt myself smiling at the energy in how she held herself.

“My Affinity is like Joey’s, but with blacksmithing. Not only will I get better naturally, but I can understand everything I use and craft with as easily as breathing.” She clasped her hands and clenched them, knuckles white from the exertion. She looked to me, “Come with me to the forge, right now. I’ll gather all the measurements and preferences we need and get to work gathering materials.” Amber smiled something fierce, though it was closer to baring her teeth in a challenge as a spark of excitement appeared in her gaze. “Let’s make Excalibur itself weep in jealousy at your new sword.”

In spite of myself, I couldn’t the laugh that escaped me.