The Forsaken Hero

The week-long vacation had been anything but relaxing, but the sacrifice of rest had been well worth it. Throughout those days, I had mended dozens of crippling injuries, from ruptured organs to replacing legs lost decades ago in farming accidents. And it wasn’t just the infirmary’s patients; word had spread like wildfire, drawing townsfolk and villagers from all corners of the countryside to our humble church.

A few nobles of wealth and influence had even sent personal servants, inviting me to their estates. But at Fyren’s insistence, I had turned them all down, dedicating myself solely to the church’s work. With the stalwart adventurer as my guardian, my mana had been drained constantly as I slowly perfected the fifth-circle healing spell. Surprisingly, despite the stir my presence had caused, we had managed to avoid trouble the entire week—until the last day.

Fyren and I gathered our belongings and met Rodrick and Anna one last time to say our goodbyes. The infirmary was now empty, save for a few minor cases, and both priests held back tears, clasping our hands in gratitude.

”Your kindness shall forever be etched in our memories,” Rodrick said warmly. ”You’re always welcome here, no matter the circumstance. I know most of the town feels the same. I can’t walk down the street without someone approaching me to express their gratitude. Of course, I made sure to give you all the credit, but it seems everyone already knows.”

”Isn’t it wonderful?” Anna chimed in. ”I even overheard some young men planning to stage accidents just to meet you. If it weren’t for your intimidating bodyguard, we might have had a line of suitors longer than the line of patients!”

I blushed, not quite sure how to handle the warmth spreading through my chest. For the moment, I had no desire for romance, but the sentiments of love and support expressed by the two priests was overwhelming.

”Thank you. I’m just glad I could help.” And perfect my spell, although I left that last part unsaid.

As I slung my satchel over my shoulder, Fyren’s gaze fixed on the chapel door as if he could see through it. His hand fell to his hilt, and tension filled the air.

”Something wrong?” I asked quickly, summoning my staff.

”Perhaps. We’d best get going before we drag this place into whatever trouble’s brewing outside,” He muttered.

”If there’s any trouble, you’re welcome to take refuge within these walls. Even the most arrogant guards know not to cause a disturbance in the church,” Rodrick said confidently. ”Especially with the immense favor you’ve earned with the townsfolk.”

Fyren nodded, though he still seemed unconvinced. ”Thank you for the offer, but it’s time we departed.”

”Wait, Xiviyah,” Anna suddenly said. I turned to her, surprised, and then froze as her arms wrapped around me. ”I wish you luck,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling my ear.

”T-thank you,” I stammered, pulling away as soon as she released me. I took a deep breath, soothing my racing heart. Despite my frequent interactions with others, the number of people I felt comfortable enough with for such familiar contact could be counted on one hand.

As we moved through the empty chapel, I pulled on Fyren’s sleeve, bringing us to a halt. He looked at me curiously, and I closed my eyes, preparing to cast a spell. I could feel the priests watching as well, but trusted them enough that their presence no longer bothered me.

The chant flowed between my lips in a resplendent chorus, accompanied by six magic circles. As the chant concluded, I grasped Fyren’s hand, following the spellbook instructions to bind us together. Immediately, the fury in his soul rasped against me, but the feeling was fleeting.

”Nexus.”

I gasped as mana surged from my soul, flowing into the spell and fusing our souls. The sensation was similar to Link Ability, but far more intense, as if actual twine bound us together. The effects faded after a moment, but I could still feel Fyren’s soul pulsing warmly nearby.

”What are you...?” he asked, and his eyes widened. ”No this isn’t possible. It’s only been a week!”

I sighed, wiping the sweat from my forehead. About half of my mana was gone, consumed by the spell, but I could feel a stirring deep within my soul. Every time a mage broke through their limits and cast a new tier of spell, their soul evolved. The last time, my mana nearly doubled in volume, which had put some strain on my body, but this time went far beyond my expectations.

I stumbled, a cold shock penetrating my body like a splash of meltwater. Mana began circulating through my soul, rapidly accelerating until I lost all control. My soul ached, stretched, and twisted more than I had been prepared for, sending a vicious shudder through my body. My muscles tightened, and I cried out, falling into Fyren’s arms.

”Xiviyah,” he cried, his voice marred with helpless frustration. ”Did the spell fail? Is it backlash?”

I looked at him but found myself unable to speak or reassure him. Fortunately, the evolution didn’t take much longer, completing just a moment later. I sighed, exhausted, and leaned against his chest.

”I’m okay,” I breathed. ”Just give me a moment.”

”Your soul,” he said suddenly. ”What happened to you?”

I blinked in confusion before realizing our souls were still linked through the Nexus. Had he felt something of what I experienced?

”It’s just an evolution. It happens to every mage upon mastering higher circle magic,” Rodrick explained from the side. I looked at the adventure quizzically. Shouldn’t he have known that already?

Shaking the question away, I straightened, pushing off Fyren’s chest. ”I’m fine now. Shall we greet whoever’s waiting for us?”

”Was there a reason for that?” he asked as we approached the door once more.

I nodded slowly. ”Honestly, I just wanted to see if I could cast it. Had I failed, I just would have lost some mana. But now?” I raised a hand and a magic circle rotated out from my chest.

In a flash of golden light, a Mirror Sphere materialized around me. I could feel the magic flowing through the Nexus, and a heartbeat later, another one shimmered about Fyren. I felt a small twinge of pride as he stumbled, staring at me, completely dumbfounded.

”Soul Casting? He asked incredulously. ”And how are there two? I thought...”

”We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” I said, striding forward and pushing open the chapel doors.

The morning sunlight turned soft as it filtered through the overcast sky. The thin clouds swirled about in wistful strokes, leaving the sky gray and hazy, hinting at oncoming rain. A quiet murmur ran through the street as we appeared, and I looked around, feeling slightly shocked by the unexpected crowd. Scarcely had we departed the church then the crowd parted, allowing a large squad of soldiers through.

My tail twitched as I recognized their leader: the same captain who had confronted us at Byron’s mansion. He looked down his nose at us, eyes narrowing at Fyren, who made little effort to hide his hand, which closed tightly around his sword hilt.

”So it was you, Slave Hero, It seems you’ll be joining us sooner than expected,” the man said, his slimy voice crawling through my pointed ears.

”What do you want?” Fyren asked, taking a step forward. Traces of his aura leaked out, stilling the crowd for a moment. Even the guards, who appeared to be around fifth level, seemed uncomfortable, even though the adventurer’s soul was supposedly weaker than theirs.

Taking a half-step back, the captain glared at us. ”It’s come to my Lord’s attention an unregistered healer has taken up occupancy in this church. Given the situation, we would normally turn a blind eye, yet they have taken it upon themselves to undercut the market to avoid paying taxes. Despite dozens of reports of high-level magic being cast, not a single coin has been reported to the Mage Council of High Valley.”

”So?” Fyren asked. His response cut through the air like a knife, underscored by a rise in his aura. Sweat dripped down the side of the captain’s face as he took another step back.

”The Lord has ordered us to apprehend the culprit and bring them in for... questioning. We hereby order you to disarm and submit to our authority.”

Fyren glanced at me, waiting for my response. I looked around the crowd, finding the cruel expressions of a mob. Yet, for some reason, their hostility wasn’t directed at me. In fact, their eyes only turned to me as he laid bare their intentions, but their gazes were curious, rather than vindictive.

”You would stop me?” I asked slowly. The Pope’s destructive commands echoed in my mind. I didn’t know if I had the determination to see them through, but I certainly felt justified in avoiding arrest. ”I’ve only acted in my duty as a hero. To challenge me is to fight the will of the gods, right?” That was what they were supposed to believe, at least.

The captain burst out laughing, accompanied by his men. But their chuckles echoed hollowly around the silent street, bouncing off the callous faces of the crowd. Seemingly ignorant of the environment, he finally calmed down.

”You? A hero? Is a filthblood slave really allowed such status? I’m all the more eager to return you to the Lord. I’m sure he’ll take great pleasure in breaking your defiance. Surrender now or prepare to face the weight of the law.”

His threat seemed to act as some sort of signal, and his men fanned out, pushing aside the crowd. I counted twenty armored soldiers, with another five in robes. Their staffs glittered to my eyes alone, revealing their roles as mages. Once, such an intimidating sight would have filled me with dread. But it felt hollow compared to the endless hordes of demons we’d faced, or the terror of the Curse Demon. My stomach churned at the veiled promise of Byron’s torture, yet threats of that magnitude no longer shook me.

Everyone held their breath as I looked up, and my voice, characteristically soft, filled the air.

”No. I don’t think I will.”