“Time to get up, Prota!” John exclaimed. Seeing as she didn’t respond, he picked up a pillow and threw it at her.

Prota stirred, blinking tiredly as she rubbed her eyes. What was going on? She wasn’t used to being woken up. She usually got up on her own. John never got up before her. In fact, she was always the one to wake up John. Something was off.

“Do you know what today is?”

Prota frowned. Was today supposed to be something-

Oh.

“No more training. We’re done. There’s just one last thing. You have to go get something for me today,” John said, turning around so that Prota couldn’t see his nervous expression. “Did I not say anything yesterday?”

Prota’s eyes, initially full of anticipation, dropped down. It was her birthday today. Somehow, she’d managed to remember this day despite all the bad memories it carried with it. Maybe it’d been too much to expect something from John. After all, there was no way he’d remembered, right? She’d barely even told him about it. Just living this life was more than enough of a gift for her.

“Can you go to the old lady that runs the stall? There’s a package I need to pick up, but I have some other things to attend to,” John explained. “I’ll be here before you get back, so you won’t have to worry about waiting around or anything.”

Prota slowly nodded.

“Ok, I’m off. I’ll be back soon. See ya!”

With that, John was out the door. Prota sighed and threw on her cloak, the bell over the door giving a friendly jingle as she went down the familiar path to the old lady’s stall. Having gone there numerous times alone, she was comfortable with the path and was confident in knowing where she was. More than that, the training she’d been doing over the year enabled her to get there without fatigue. It was an incredible improvement compared to the numerous breaks she’d needed the first time around.

“Hello, dear,” the old lady smiled. “You’re here for a package, right?”

Prota nodded, an aura of gloominess hanging around her. She was trying to tell herself that it didn’t matter, but it wasn’t working. She was a child. She’d been looking forward to something special, and when it hadn’t come, she was sad. It was fair to let her be a little childlike.

“You’re a very lucky girl,” the old lady winked, then rolled out a large, magically sealed crate from underneath her stall. “You know, John cares for you much more than he lets on, if you know what I mean. You should hurry on home.”

Prota’s heart rose with hope. Was this-

“...mm. Bye bye,” Prota muttered, then scurried home as fast as she could, pulling the crate behind her.

~~~

“John?” Prota called out as she walked into the bar. It was empty. “Zero?”

No response. She looked around, but John wasn’t there. Why, though? The door had been unlocked. If John wasn’t home, the bar should’ve been closed.

“John?” she called out again, walking up the stairs. She opened the door, and-

“Happy birthday!”

Banners hung from the ceiling, brightly coloured balls floating around the room, tied down to the ground with string. Prota stared at them. Magic devies? What did they do? They were floating, so they must’ve been magical, right?

“Come on, you brought the crate from the old lady, right?”

Prota nodded slowly, still staring at the decorations around the room, but that was enough of an answer for John. He ran downstairs, then lugged the crate back up, the box thumping every step of the way.

“Alright, what do we have here…”

John cracked the seal, and a wonderful smell wafted out. John grinned. The old lady had made exactly what he’d asked for. It wasn’t exactly revolutionary, but he’d been longing for this for so long. Well, it wasn’t like he couldn’t get it, but it was the experience. The method, the preparation, and the idea that appealed to him. How long had it been since someone else had cooked a homemade meal for him?

Two pairs of lightly toasted buns sandwiched a stack of burgers, cheese and bacon, juice and sauce dripping down the side. Freshly cut and fried potatoes sat in a container, the edges a deep gold, practically crackling with crispiness. Sitting next to them was a pizza with a large, fluffy pastry for the base, a homemade tomato sauce ladled on, and fresh cheese melted on the top, still bubbling and gooey. Steam rose from the box as the smells combined into a heavenly feast for the nose.

The last had been saved for last as John put all the food on the table. At the bottom of the crate was a tub of ice cream. John wasn’t sure if it existed in this world. He’d never bothered to check. Still, it looked better than any dessert he’d had in a while.

“She really did it,” John whispered. “Damn.”

Prota just stared with sparkling eyes and a watering mouth. John looked over at her and laughed.

“Well? What do you want to try first?”

John laughed as Prota pointed to the cheeseburger. He handed it over to her, and she began eating with a ferocity John hadn’t seen in a year. She didn’t quite smile, but her eyes shone in a way John had never seen before.

“See? Part one, done. Told you she’d like it,” Zero said smugly in John’s head. “Although, judging from the way you look, it’s as much of a gift to you as it is to her.”

“Shush,” John thought back as he savoured the taste of good, homemade food. Something about knowing where it came from hit different. A wave of nostalgia washed through him despite the fact that he’d never had this before.

Prota was in heaven. There was something different about this. All her meals had been fine, but they’d all worked towards improving her body. The past year had been all about fixing her life back up. But this wasn’t for any of that. This wasn’t training. This wasn’t recovery. This was just a gift. This was a feast to be enjoyed as nothing other than a feast.

There was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to be anxious for. She could just close her eyes and relax.

“Alright!” John exclaimed as they finished up. They both leaned back, stuffed, but there was one thing left. John dropped the tub on the table, pulling out a large spoon. “It’s cold, so take it slow, ok?”

Prota nodded eagerly.

“Ok… where did I put them…” John muttered, looking around. “Oh!”

Sticking six candles into a bowl of ice cream, he lit a match and lit the candles.

“Ok, so… Six years. Six candles. Happy birthday, Prota.”

Prota squeezed her eyes shut, making a wish. Then, with all her might, she blew the candles out, snuffing all the flames at once.

“Alright, now dig in!”

As soon as she took her first spoonful, Prota’s eyes shot wide open.

“Good, right?” John laughed. “There’s more, so have as much as you want.”

Prota started devouring the desert as fast as she could, then froze as she got brain freeze. She winced as the cold seemed to spread through her very bones.

“Hey, I told you to take your time,” John said, trying to hide his smile.

“Hnn,” Prota moaned as she held her head. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good either.

John sighed and leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Prota seemed happy. That was the point, wasn’t it? However, as he thought of what was left, he still felt slightly nervous. He couldn’t put it off any longer, though. Excusing himself, he went back downstairs and came up carrying two packages. One was a long rectangular box, unmarked. The other was an envelope, also unmarked.

“Ok! Two gifts. Since you didn’t get anything last year, I guess. These aren’t all that great, but I hope they work.” John was yammering on nervously. “If you don’t like them, you can just get rid of them, ok? So, what first?”

Prota pointed to the long box, attracted to the larger size.

“This one? Alright, here we go.”

He passed the package over to Prota, who eagerly opened it up. Inside was a wooden staff, about as tall as she was, with a gnarled top to place one’s hand on.

“It’s a magic staff. It’s not as good as some, but it should be useful. I’m not actually sure how practical it is, but… It can store mana from the user, like a reserve, and you can take it out whenever you need.”

Prota’s eyes shone. It was a bit big for her, but magic shrunk it down to her size. She put it on her back like she’d seen other mages do, and it immediately stayed in place as if a strap held it in place.

“And second… open this one carefully. Don’t tear what’s inside.”

Prota took the envelope and tugged at the sticky parts, careful not to rip the insides. After some struggle, she opened it and took out a singular sheet of paper.

“So, uh… You know how I’ve been telling everyone you’re my sister? So… well, what if…”

He seemed to be struggling to get the words out.

“What if you, um, actually became my sister?”

Inside was a legal certificate that declared Prota to be the direct sister of one John Quarta.

“It’s a legal document, but, I mean, I can always cancel it if you want, but-” John stammered, but was cut off as Prota ran up to him and tackled him with a hug.

John was so taken aback that he was literally at a loss for words. Prota was still someone uncomfortable with touch. Her subconscious fear of killing those around her was still strong, to the point where she still occasionally shrank back when John touched her, and no one else could even get close. She never reached out to John. It was always him approaching her first.

Now, here she was, fully embracing him in a warm hug, completely of her own will. It wasn’t that wisp of a touch she’d given a year ago. There was no hesitation in her action. She truly wanted this.

“...is that a yes?”

Prota nodded, burying her face into John’s chest, and he returned the embrace. He blinked in surprise as he felt something welling up in his eyes, but he didn’t let it out. He blinked a few more times in surprise as he began to sniffle a little. Seriously? No way. This. Was this little enough?

Well, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Thank you, Prota.”

A warm light entered his eyes as they stayed like that for a while, refusing to move, basking in the warmth of the other’s presence—two souls, both lonely, cold alone, but capable of warming the other when combined.

A peace they wished could last forever.

~~~

“So it’s agreed. The ten of us will participate, and we split the thousand. Agreed?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

There was murmuring and nodding at the dimly lit table. Ten tough looking mercenaries, all going after the bounty on John’s head.

“Then sign the contract.”

Each took out a knife and pricked their finger, allowing a single drop of blood to fall on a magic contract. Whenever a drop of blood fell onto the paper, it would glow. A magical contract. One that bound the ones who signed it with their lives.

“He could be dangerous.”

“Our job is always dangerous. A hundred gold for each of us… all for a bartender? And a little girl? It’s too easy to be true.”

The group continued to murmur, then the noise slowly reached a lull. There was silence for a bit, and then one of the men turned to a dark corner.

“You sure you don’t want in?”

“...I’m fine.”

Grey emerged from the shadows, preparing to leave.

“We’ll give you your fair share if you participate.”

“I don’t want any money. Leave me out of this. Remember what I said about the bartender.”

“Yeah, yeah. Close to death. Not actually dead. Good enough to convince that noble bastard.”

He flipped his hood up, beginning to leave, but stopped as a mercenary called out.

“Oi.”

He stopped and turned back. A mercenary flipped him a gold coin. “Thanks for the tip, brother. We wouldn’t have been able to set this up without you.”

Grey left without another word, a guilty look passing by his face.

~~~

John and Prota were out for a stroll, wandering the streets as they watched the stars twinkling overhead. They ended up near the old lady’s stall, and as they walked by, she gave Prota a wink. John had clearly planned a lot.

Prota was comfortable holding John’s hand as they walked. The staff was hanging on her back, and even though it wasn’t doing much, she liked how it felt. It already felt familiar. It was something precious, just like her cloak. She couldn’t even imagine not using it.

“John,” Prota said, pointing at the old lady.

“Go ahead,” John nodded, sitting down on a bench.

“Mm… thank you,” Prota muttered as she ran up to the old lady’s stall. She sincerely meant it.

The old lady smiled kindly at her. “Don’t you worry about it. I’m just an old fart who happens to be involved with a few things. You take care of John, you hear? He needs someone responsible to take care of him.”

“I can hear you, you old bat!” John yelled.

“Yeah? Then why don’t you learn to become a competent, capable young man? Go do something with your life! You’ve got loads of time ahead of you!”

“You’ve got no time! Go shrivel up and die!”

The old lady just snorted. “See what I mean? You be sure to take care of your older brother now, you hear?”

Prota’s eyes widened at that. The old lady gave her one more wink and handed her a lollipop.

“Happy birthday, Prota.”

Prota ran back over to John, licking away.

“Happy?” John asked as they continued their walk down the path. Prota nodded. She’d never felt such a peaceful sensation of joy before. It was a sense of security that she’d long since forgotten.

“After this, we’ll go become adventurers,” John rambled. “Go on adventures, slay beasts, learn how to use magic… then onto Scholaris. Then the demon lord, and then your sister, and then…”

His voice trailed off, his face becoming undescribably hollow for a moment. But only for a moment.

“Then, we’ll see,” he said. If Prota hadn’t been so engrossed with her lollipop, she would have noticed the change in his tone, but she was busy, so the lack of sincerity in John’s voice went unnoticed.

“Come one, it’s getting late. We have packing to do tomorrow,” John said. “Let’s head on home.”

It should’ve been over with that. A happy ending to a happy day. But there were people who had no such plans to let it finish like that.

“Down!” John yelled, pushing Prota to the ground as a handful of knives to fly over their heads. “What the-”

John’s eyes scanned the alleyway, locking onto four men wielding swords.

“...assassins? Mercs?” John frowned. “How… what the hell? How did they know we’d be here?”

The men charged John, who grit his teeth and pulled out his gun, the barrel flashing six times as he pulled the trigger over and over. As if the men had been warned in advance, a dirt barrier went up, blocking the bullets. The pieces of lead fell to the floor uselessly.

“Shit,” John cursed under his breath. “How the fuck do they know about that, too? What motherfucker told them?” He turned back to his sister, barking out a command.

“Prota, go to the granny. She can hide you well. Go! Now!”

Prota nodded and ran off, leaving John behind. He turned back to face the assassins approaching him with frightening speed.

“Alright, let’s do it,” John muttered, his head light as an indescribable emotion filled him, leaving no room for thinking. As a result, an incredible aura washed through the air. It was almost enough to make the men back off.

Almost.

The first one died like an idiot. He leapt into the air where a dirt barrier would be unable to protect him, and a bullet went right between his eyes. Two more cracks rang through the air, and the body fell to the ground with a sickening crack, blood pooling from underneath.

People began running and screaming as the fight continued, but John was focused solely on the remaining three men. He fired three more shots into the dirt wall, then pressed a button, ejecting the barrel. Reaching into thin air, another barrel loaded with bullets fell into his hand, which slammed into his revolver with practiced ease.

“There’s a lot of you.”

“You think this is it? That’s amusing,” one of the men scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”

“More men- Prota!” John exclaimed, looking back. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of a diversion. A diversion? For him and Prota? Why?

His fears had been realized. The little white haired girl was nowhere to be seen.

“You idiot! He knows now!”

“Yeah? What’s he gonna do about it?”

“He already killed one of us!”

“That one was an idiot. The bartender doesn’t even have a core. What’s he gonna do?”

John’s body began to shake as his mind started going blank. No. No, no. This couldn’t be happening again. Why? Why him? Why now? He’d been happy. He’d felt happy for the first time in years, the coldness in his soul had been replaced with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time…

The [Author]. Right. That was how it always was, right? John would get a taste of happiness, only for it to be ripped away. He’d get a little bite, a tease, and then a long, dry spell of pain. That was how it was. Again. It’d happened again. Every single time, that damned [Author]...

John could identify the emotion within him now. It was anger. Pure, unbridled anger. It wasn’t fair. It was never fair. His life was just curse after curse, bait after bait, and he kept taking it like the idiot he was. His vision started to blur as he let his body go limp, feeling his chest expand and contract as he took breath after breath. Eventually, he snapped back to his senses, his eyes locking on to the enemies in front of him.

Prota was gone. There was nothing he could do about it now, but there was something he could do about the men in front of him. No, they weren’t men. [Characters]. Rage consumed his body, and his red eye flashed before returning to normal.

They don’t matter. Kill them all.

“Give up,” one of the mercenaries called out, his head barely peeking out. “I’ll give you a painless death if you just-”

There was a crack, and the man fell dead, a hole in the center of his forehead. Far away, John was standing, smoke trailing from the freshly fired gun. There was a loud click as John pulled the hammer down, death in his eyes.

“Two more,” John muttered. The anger had concentrated into something far more threatening. It wasn’t just a raw emotion anymore.

John was emitting an unbridled aura of death. Without uttering a word, he was getting the message across. The two men he was facing were already dead in his eyes. That vision simply had yet to be realized.

“You- are you an idiot? You think you can take us on?!” one of the remaining two yelled, charging in, but unfortunately for that man, that was the wrong move. The earth spell, which had worked so well before, was useless now that the men weren’t thinking straight, and the flash of the barrel announced another one gone.

“You- you bastard!” the last one yelled. He began channelling some kind of magic.

“Did you think I’d just let you cast that spell?” John frowned, firing again, but the bullet bounced off.

“That’s right!” the man gloated. “Your projectiles can’t-”

His voice was cut off as John ran in, sliding through the barrier, gun pointed upwards.

“So if I do this, you can’t block it, right?” he said, firing one more shot right into the man’s chin.

The bullet burst out the top of the head, blood spraying out like a fountain, brain matter splattering everywhere as the body fell to the ground with a wet thump. John raised his scarf to shield his face, not wanting to deal with guts on his skin. This was no time to rest.

Looking around, he scanned the area for clues. Finding nothing, he ran to the lady at the stall, who was waving him over.

“Six men,” she gasped. “They took her. That way,” she said, pointing to the fields.

“Thank you,” John said, his voice emotionless. He was about to depart when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Quarta.”

It was Grey.

“Hey. I’m warning you. Don’t go after them. You…”

His voice trailed off as John slowly turned around, his fists clenched tight.

“Oh. It was you.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Grey said, his voice perfectly smooth. He was a good liar.

It wasn’t good enough.

“Don’t lie to me. They knew where we would be. This is the path I always take. They knew my guard would be down. They knew about my gun. Someone tipped them off.

“Quarta, that girl, she’s a demon! Mana absorption! That’s a demon art! Does your arrogance blind you? We just trained a demon! What are you-”

Grey was silenced as the gun's muzzle was pressed against his forehead, the metal still hot.

“Your point?”

“Wait, hold on just a minute-” Grey started, but John cut him off.

“You thought I was just a manaless mercenary, right?”

“Quarta, I’m trying to protect you. There’s a thousand gold bounty on your head. News will spread. Soon, the city guards might be after you. What will you do then? Will you still protect that girl? And how will you protect yourself?”

“...did you think something like that would convince me? Did you think appealing to my sense of survival would make me reluctant to protect someone else?”

Grey was speechless.

“That’s hilarious. Do you know what you are, Grey? You’re a variable. A [Character] in a story. Maybe you were important. I don’t know. And to be honest, I don’t care, either.”

John’s eyes pierced Grey’s soul.

“If you were needed, then you’d survive this. And if you’re not needed, then you won’t. So I guess we’ll leave it up to the [Author] to decide, huh? Are you a fan of gambling, Grey?”

“What? You wouldn’t. John, what are yo-”

Not waiting for Grey to finish, John pulled the trigger. The noise was slightly muffled by the flesh of Grey’s head, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere as the bullet practically turned the insides to mush. Letting the body drop to the ground, he spoke without turning around.

“Leader of the demon worshippers. Are you going to do anything? If you want to try it, now’s a good time.”

“...you knew this whole time, did you?”

“It was pretty obvious,” John said, his voice hollow. “Just because you aged a few decades doesn’t mean you changed your habits.”

“Ha. This is my true age. The cultists wouldn’t have wanted an old fart leading them. Well, it matters not. I’ll stand by what I said before. You are incredibly close to the ‘truth’ of the world. Why would I get rid of you?”

“The other cult members would have your head if they heard you say that.”

The old lady smiled, but it was a dangerous smile. “They don’t matter. They can try. You killed most of them, anyway. They will not give me the answer I want. You…”

John didn’t even look in her direction, but he could tell. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t hesitating. She was either crazy, or far stronger than he gave her credit for. Probably both.

“And you remember what I said?”

“You’d never tell me, I know. But you are no threat to the world. There is no need to engage in combat with you, so I will continue to observe. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find something out someday.”

That got a half laugh out of John. “Damn. That’s kinda fucked up. Well, I’m always being watched by someone, anyway. At least one person. Maybe more. Dozens, hundreds, thousands? Who knows.”

John tossed his gun away and stared with murderous intent toward the plains. He wiped the mess off his scarf, rewinding it around his face. His hood came up, shadowing his eyes, effectively hiding his whole face, with a light in his left eye piercing through.