Chapter 3: Threat

Despite the talk they’d had the day before, nothing really changed. Prota stayed upstairs in the living room, since she didn’t feel like going down and seeing other people. Her days mainly consisted of eating and sleeping, occasionally walking around and looking at some of the books John kept around. She couldn’t read any of them, but she liked looking at the covers and feeling the leather bindings, and that was enough for her. In a way, she didn’t feel deserving of anything else. As if anything more than this was a luxury too grand for her to even be near.

From what she could gather from the images in the books, John was reading up on Celestia, the continent they lived on. There were a few about Solaria, the country they were in, and quite a few bookmarks on Vulcan, its capital and the city they were living in. John had walked in on her looking at the books and explained what they were, which in turn explained a few things to Prota, talking about how he hadn’t been here that long, and how he needed to know things like customs and culture. She’d naturally assumed that John had been born here, but it was possible that he came from another country.

She considered the words he’d said the first day, something about “this world.” Maybe he was just talking about being in a different country. After all, it wasn’t like all humans were born in Solaria.

Like that, the days passed, mostly consisting of Prota staying upstairs while John went down to tend the bar. She didn’t have a plan in mind. All she did was wait for him to come up. She often wondered what went on down there, but her fear couldn’t overcome her curiosity, so she stayed upstairs, hiding away, waiting for nothing.

It wasn’t as if nothing were happening at all, though. For one, she’d learned that she had an extremely high resistance to pain, almost to the point that it could be called immunity. She had never thought of herself as particularly resilient. However, she’d realized something was a little different when John had been cooking.

That day, she picked up a pot, thinking to help, but then almost dropped it as John yelled in surprise. It was only when she looked into the pot and saw the water boiling that she realized it was actually scorching hot. Thankfully, no injuries had been incurred, but the incident had served as a start. While the old bruises were beginning to fade, new ones appeared, these caused by her own clumsiness. Tripping over nothing, bumping into corner and sitting up and slamming face first into a wall or table were all things she didn’t really mind, but when John had begun questioning her new injuries, she’d realized something was off.

“Hey. You’re not using drugs or magic or anything, right?” John had asked, but Prota didn’t even know how to do such a thing.

The other thing she’d learned was that John was reliable. You wouldn’t have known such a thing by observing him. He always woke up late. He was sloppy in many ways, failing to clean up after himself until necessary and waiting until the last minute to do important tasks, but somehow, that didn’t really change her view of him.

He was still a little suspicious. His eyes didn’t match his face, and his smile seemed off. He often said things that defied common sense and had a severe lack of understanding of things most people already knew. Cities, types of magic and such things were all topics John seemed largely unaware of. But he never tried to hide it. He just shrugged it off and went about his day.

So she wanted to trust him, but at the same time, she found that she couldn’t. She didn’t realize she was doing it, but her time spent in the streets had caused her to develop a defence mechanism that was constantly running.

She hid her emotions behind a mask of neutrality, and somewhere along the way, that’d become her norm. She didn’t remember what it meant to smile. To cry. She sealed it all away, building a wall and hiding inside, isolating herself from the world.

She was still trying to be alone. That irrational fear of being remotely close to anyone was always there, always pushing her away. Her brain told her to stay with John, but her heart and her body wouldn’t let her. They were telling her that it was dangerous, that it wasn’t safe, that she was better off alone, sealed shut in her shell, and that if she couldn’t be found, then she couldn’t be harmed.

But what about those who wouldn’t harm her? Those who were there for her. John. Someone who was helping her. And sure, he was suspicious. Maybe he wasn’t saying everything he knew. Maybe he had other plans for her. But so what? What could possibly be worse than the life she’d had before?

She wanted to give it a chance. But at the same time, she couldn’t.

~~~

John had his first incident since picking up Prota about a week later. He wasn’t exactly surprised. In fact, he’d been more curious about the fact that such a long period of time had passed with nothing of significance happening.

Two guards knocked on the door to the bar, then came in without waiting for an answer. A strange thing to do, since the bar was open to everyone, so one didn’t need to announce their presence, but maybe it was some sort of procedure. A way of letting you know they were there.

“Oh. What’s up?” John said casually, wiping a glass. There weren’t many people around, and a city guard or two would showing up once in a while wasn’t unusual, so he wasn’t surprised.

“You’re John Quarta, right?” the first guard said roughly. “We received a report that you assaulted two men. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

“...hey, look me in the eyes and say that again. Me? The coreless guy? Really?”

“Don’t get cocky. That doesn’t clear you of suspicion.”

“Ok, and so you’re saying… what? Oh, look at me. I’m gonna go take a walk. Hey, look, two guys that are probably stronger than me. Let’s go beat them up. I don’t stand a chance of winning, but hey, let’s do it anyway! You’re saying something like that happened?”

The guard slammed his fist on the counter. “Hey. I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just talk to us like that. We’re not your pals. Have some respect. This is an investigation in regards to the assault of two nobles.”

John sighed. “Ah. Nobles, huh? Damn, I guess we’re really reaching into the bottom of the barrel now. The [Author] couldn’t think of anything more creative than this?”

“What- huh?” the guard frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. Did you hear that? My bad. Wasn’t meant for you. Anyways, keep going.” John was clearly unconcerned.

“John Quarta, you are charged with assaulting and knocking out two nobles of the royal household. You are to come with us to the castle for a formal report.”

“Mm… I don’t really feel like it, though?” John shrugged. “Look. You can try to drag me off. You’d probably succeed, too. I don’t think I can put up a fight or anything. But I can’t really say the same about the customers here.”

The conversation had been relatively quiet, but a few heads had already turned toward the guards, and their gazes weren’t kind. The quiet murmur of conversation had quickly grown somewhat heated, and the atmosphere was no longer friendly.

“...the captain warned us this would happen,” the other guard said quietly. “She said he had a way of being rather stubborn.”

“Then we proceed?”

“I don’t really want to start a riot.”

The two looked back at John and gave a nod. “...fine. There’s no proof that it was you other than word of mouth, so we’ll leave it alone. You’d better not try this again, though. We’re only leaving you alone because the circumstances themselves are rather dubious.”

“Yeah, good to hear,” John said, not bothering to hide how annoyed he was. He started to head back to his bar, but the guards weren’t done just yet.

“We’ll let you go if you can confirm one thing, that is.”

John froze. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“The nobles said that they were out to “kill the demon,” whatever that means, but the gist of it is that they said a small girl with long white hair had been with you. We just need to confirm that there is no such child like that living with you, and you’ll be good to go.”

“Do you have a search warrant?”

“Do we have a what?”

“This isn’t… damn, that doesn’t exist here. Look. I’m not gonna just let you waltz upstairs and look around my place, ok?”

“Why? If you’ve got nothing to hide, then why not?”

The guards were trying to hide it, but they knew. They had him. John clenched his teeth. Prota might’ve been smart enough to listen in, but even then, it wasn’t like there were a lot of places to hide. That was an oversight John thought to fix, but that wasn’t possible at the moment.

“...fine,” John said quietly. “Just let me calm the customers down.”

He went out from behind the counter and talked to the five customers that were in the bar. As he talked to each of them, they nodded, casting a few looks at the guards but for the most part relaxing in their seats and altogether developing a more passive posture. With that out of the way, John opened his door and lead the guards upstairs.

~~~

“Hey. I heard the conversation between that fella and the guards. Will he be ok? He’s clearly hiding something, right?” the new customer said. He’d only come a few times, but he liked the place and didn’t want anything bad to happen.

The regulars laughed. “John? That guy? Honestly, if he’s hiding anything and the guards find it, I’d be surprised if they come back down alive.”

“A-alive? But- doesn’t he lack a mana core?”

“Oh, sure. He’s completely coreless. I don’t think there’s a single person that has less mana than him. He’s broken appraisal orbs since they’re supposed to be able to pick up even the faintest of mana traces. He’s completely dry, through and through.”

“Then- what, is he some kind of hidden martial arts master?”

The regulars looked at each other and laughed.

“That guy can barely lift more than a few crates of beer at a time. Martial arts master? Maybe he’s just really good at acting, but no, he’s pretty average. Not exactly a 2-inch weakling, but no, there’s nothing special about his physique.”

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Another one of the regulars snorted. “If he’s that good at acting, he should be on a stage, not running a bar.”

The newbie frowned. “Come on, guys, enough beating around the bush. What’s he got?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the regulars grinned.

The new customer sighed, disappointed, but it was clear he wouldn’t be getting any more information. The small talk continued until a loud click silenced everyone in the bar. The regulars smiled at each other knowingly.

“Hey, you wanted to know what he’s got? He’s got that.”

~~~

The first thing the guards had seen when they’d gone up was Prota, who’d been sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Well, reading to Prota was mainly just tracing the cover with her finger, but it was better than nothing, right?

“Freeze!” the guards yelled, pointing their swords at the girl. The first guard looked back. “Seriously? You didn’t even bother to hide her? The demon was here after all? What were you thinking?”

Prota’s expression froze. John saw her and grimaced. She clearly didn’t like being called that. Her face was still neutral, but John could see something like despair on her face. Despair and guilt.

She’s just a [Character]. You can let them take her.

But will you?

“Mr. John? Hello?” the guard said, then saw the look on his face. Slowly, he turned around and pointed his sword at John. “Our captain told us you’re not dangerous. You don’t have a drop of mana in you, right? Don’t resist. Come along calmly, and we won’t have to do anything.”

“The girl?”

“Don’t worry about her. If you let us take her, we’ll leave you alone. You can just stay here, and we’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Prota shrunk into herself, smaller than ever, as if she wanted to shrivel up and disappear. She wouldn’t blame John if he left her alone. They barely knew each other, and if what the guards were saying was true, then only a fool would try to fight back. Why sacrifice himself for her?

“Yeah? Ok, let’s say she’s a demon. So you’re telling me you guys are racist? You discriminating simply because she’s not human? Damn, I didn’t know you guys were like that.”

“Racist? What- no? You don’t know about demons? Come on, that’s not possible. We were all taught what demons are growing up. Those monsters that come from over the seas, terrible beings with terrifying power. You’ve never heard the prophecy of the demon king and the hero?”

“Demon king and he- you’re kidding me,” John groaned. “You’re telling me I’m in that kind of [Story]?” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I’m getting off track. Look. I don’t care. This girl is not a demon. She’s just a girl. Trust me.”

“Sorry, but your word isn’t worth a lot to us. We’ll be deciding that for ourselves.”

“Damn.” John closed his eyes and shrugged. “Well. I tried.”

Prota, too, closed her eyes. She didn’t blame John for making this choice. It made sense, after all. She waited for the hands to grab her.

But nothing came.

She slowly opened her eyes, but then opened them wide in shock as John flung his hoodie open, revealing a shining piece of metal, intricately forged and put together. There was a handle with some sort of trigger that was attached to a barre, a tube sticking out the end. It kind of looked like a small, compressed crossbow, without the arrow or string. The red steel glinted as the sun streamed through the window. John’s finger tapped the trigger lightly as he aimed it at the guard.

“Look, it’s not like I want to kill you, but if this is what it comes to, then it is what it is, right?” He shifted his arm ever so slightly to the right to point to the other guard. “You, too. Unless you can move faster than the speed of sound, I don’t think my bullet hits you before your swords stab me. Well, we can test that theory, I guess. Anything in the name of science or whatever.”

His thumb landed on a piece of metal that extended from the back, and he pushed down, letting a loud click ring throughout the room. “Your choice. We can all leave as friends, or we can all leave as bodies.”

The guards backed down a bit. They weren’t exactly greenhorns who didn’t know what they were doing. They were warriors who’d done their fair share of work. People like them instinctively knew who was dangerous and who wasn’t. It was a requirement for staying alive in this field of work. If you went against someone you couldn’t handle, it meant death. And John was someone they couldn’t handle.

His killing intent was intense and direct. It wasn’t like bloodlust. There was no anger behind it. This wasn’t a powerful beast. In fact, it didn’t feel very powerful at all. But the sheer confidence that radiated from the powerless man in front of them was so strong that there no room for doubt. He would kill them.

Their brains knew that he couldn’t use magic. But their hearts were telling them to leave.

“What the- what the hell?” the first guard gasped. “H-hey. I thought he was coreless.”

Prota had been silently watching from the side, but she was just as equally amazed. She wasn’t as capable at feeling killing intent as the guards were, but even she could feel the dangerous aura oozing out from John. Why was he acting like this? For her? Why wouldn’t he let her go? What was he thinking?

“O-oi. That weapon,” the second guard said, sweat dripping down his face.

The first guard looked down and frowned, confused, only for his eyes to shoot wide open in recognition.

“You- you’re that guy,” he said quietly. “What are you doing running a bar?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John said quietly. “I- I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What guy? Just leave. We all agree that nothing happened here, right?”

The guard nodded and gulped, motioning for his partner to come with him. “Come on, let’s leave.”

“What about her?” John said, nodding towards Prota, his weapon primed and ready.

“She was never here,” the second guard said, eager to leave.

“Good.”

With that, the two men hurried down the stairs and left.

~~~

“Look at ‘em go,” one of the regulars said cheerfully. She had bright red hair and a boisterous laugh, her muscles bulging as she downed the rest of her beer. “Quarta. That bastard’s as sly as ever.”

“Come on, Hestia,” a thin man with glasses said, putting his hand on her arm. “Give the guards some slack.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gale,” Hestia growled. “If they can’t handle the heat, they shouldn’t poke the fire. Isn’t that right?”

A heavily bearded dwarf grunted. “Huh. Do not underestimate them. They have been through their own fair share of battles. They were simply doing the task assigned to them, and they did it well. They knew when to approach, and when to leave. Is that not all they can do?”

“Oh, Gorm, shut up,” the fourth regular sighed. He was thin and wore a black cloak, twin daggers hanging by his side. “We all know that he’s the kind of guy everyone underestimates. Those two fools probably didn’t know what they were walking into.”

“Um… Are you guys adventurers?” the newbie said carefully, looking at his drinking partners. They looked strong. He wondered who they were.

“A few years ago. Did you ever hear of a team that was formed to subjugate a demon cult? They were only taking the best of the best.” Hestia grinned, slamming her now empty cup onto the table.

“Well yeah, they’re pretty famous. There was this really good swordsman, a really muscular fire mage, this dwarf tank and an elf assassin…” his voice trailed off as he looked at the smiling party in front of him. “Oh, dear Celeste…”

“That’s us,” Gale said patiently. “Don’t worry about Hestia, she lacks a brain.”

“Who’re you calling brainless, you skinny wimp?” she growled, shooting daggers with her glare.

“Don’t worry about those two,” Gorm said. “Always bickering. But that was us, yes. But those days are behind us now. We are simply adventurers who continue to make a living.”

“Wasn’t there a fifth?” the newbie said, looking at the people in front of him with a newfound respect.

Gorm just looked at the man, staring deep into his eyes. “Who do you think?”

“The- the bartender? No way, that’s impossible. You’re all S class mages, at the very least! What’s a manaless bartender doing with you guys?”

Gale dodged a punch from an increasingly violent Hestia and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, that’s not really our place to say.”

“He’s a guy with balls of steel!” Hestia grinned. “I didn’t know someone so crafty and skinny could be so ballsy!”

The newbie frowned. “So… you guys come here to see him?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Gale said.

“What was all that stuff about authors and stories?”

“Beats me,” Gale shrugged. “If you ask me, he hasn’t got it all sorted out up there, if you know what I mean. He’s super reliable. He has this uncanny intuition that saved our hides multiple times, but I guess you can’t be all that sane with an ability like that.”

“Sane?”

“He’d sometimes do completely illogical things,” Grey explained. “Things beyond our comprehension. But they always worked. We tried to find out why, but we never did. I guess it doesn’t matter. He was a good guy in the end, even if he did keep his little secrets to himself.”

The man slowly put his cup down, shaking his head. “The times I’ve come here, not knowing…”

“Don’t worry about it, child. Just learn and move forwards,” Gorm said kindly.

“Ah, there he is. That motherfucker,” Hestia called out as John came down the stairs. “Why’d you let them go?”

“What the hell’s the point? I don’t want the entire royal army on my ass,” John said, pointing out the obvious. “Look, as much as it’s great and wonderful having you guys here, I’m gonna have to close early today. Get out.”

John hustled the group out the door but took one last look at them. “You guys know, right?”

“Not a word. Don’t worry, Quarta. We know how to keep secrets.”

As the group left, John flipped the sign from “open” to “closed” and turned around to find Prota waiting for him at the base of the stairs. She had the cloak he’d given her wrapped around her body. She stared at him, confused and a little afriad. John stared back, getting his first good look at her now that her face wasn’t all swollen.

Her eyes were always half closed, giving the impression that she was sleeping or bored. Her eyes were different shades of blue. Her right eye was more of a fiery blue, while her left eye looked more like an icy blue. Her mouth was a small line that remained straight, never curved, reminding John of the comparison to a porcelain doll he’d made a while back. John supposed it was endearing in a way, but at the same time, it was incredibly disorienting. He shook his head. Why was he focused on something like that?

It was time to progress the [Plot] in his own way.

“Guess it’s time for another talk, huh?”