‘Huh?’
I tried to right myself so I could land on my feet, but my body simply wouldn’t respond. My brain shot command after command to my limbs, urging them to extend and at least cushion my fall. But my limbs didn’t listen.
I collided with the ground, skipping once and hitting my head on a rock. Grotesque snapping noises resounded in my torso as I slid fiercely across the dirt. It felt like every bone in my body had broken. Eventually losing momentum, I came to a scraping stop.
My body caked in dirt, I laid there, near-motionless.
For a few seconds, there was silence.
The ringing in my ears masked the previously loud clamor of battle. The adrenaline left my body, and soon the thoughts of conflict were naught but a distant thought. It was peaceful, in a way.
Ah, but the fire. The bright lights and the smoke. They were a bother. An eyesore.
I closed my eyes, but the flaring orange light bled through their lids. I tried to lift my arm to provide an extra shield, but it wouldn’t listen. How annoying.
I craned my head down to see what was wrong.
‘Hm… I see the problem.’
My arms were crushed, barely hanging by tendons. My legs were bent in all sorts of awkward angles, missing chunks of their original mass.
Funny angles. Legs weren’t supposed to look like that.
"Heh…hehe…"
Past my silly looking limbs, I could make out two blurry silhouettes.
I couldn’t focus on them since they were so far away.
One was grey, and one was white.
The grey one was a lot bigger than the other. That didn't seem fair.
…
…
…
Fair, huh?
Why did this feel so familiar?
Images of flames flickered through my mind. Burning buildings. Bodies splayed across the dirt.
'Ah, that's right.'
The situation was nearly identical to how they were back then. The day I lost them.
We all should've died that day... but they told me to run. To survive.
I knew it was the right choice. I knew there was nothing I could do.
So then why did I still feel such guilt as my little legs carried me away from the flames?
...s-
Now that my life was flashing before my eyes, I really wish it hadn't.
Why was I only seeing my one true regret? Is that really what my life was to me? Just one shaping moment?
...
...couldn't save them.
...couldn't save them.
...couldn't save them.
...
Yeah, I couldn't save them. It was foolish to believe that I ever could have, at the age that it happened. There was no amount of training I could have done to pierce those scales, not with such tiny and incapable hands. It was an unfortunate and relatively common event. A group of salamanders annihilating a small village. I had heard of it before, but never expected it to happen to me or my parents.
So when it came, none of us had the power to fight back.
It would be a dream to achieve power like that, a fabled epic that only a hero could hope to create.
Which is exactly why it stung so bad that even with the hero by my side, I was still experiencing the same fate all over again, only this time I was old and capable, and instead of escaping and surviving, I'd just die.
Wow, such an improvement from last time, all my training really paid off. Maybe Hana would escape somehow? I don't know.
...Sun...
I hoped she'd at least make it out alive. Maybe then she'd be able to do what I couldn't.
Maybe she'd be able to save... me...
...
"SUN!!! [SAVE ME]!!!"
'!!!!'
Hana's voice shattered the fog in my head, and a wild current of warm energy flowed through my veins. It poured into every nook deteriorated body, leaked from my pores, and threatened to overflow into the cold world outside.
My shattered bones began to mend, their edges knitting together with a speed that defied the very laws of nature. Muscles and sinew, once rent and torn, regenerated with a swiftness. In an instant, I was reborn, my body reconstructed in a miracle that no healing spell could ever hope to replicate. My muscles tensed, my legs launching me from the ground the second I had regained the capability. It was as if my body was moving on its own accord, not sparing a moment of hesitation.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
A faint, purple glow burned in my heart and on my skin, leaving behind tendrils of faded light as I soared from my resting place.
In an instant, I appeared before the large figure looming over the hero. I clenched my fist, the veins beneath the skin of my arms surging with electricity, and slammed an uppercut into the chin of the beast. It barely had time to register I was there before it disintegrated, becoming a shower of steaming red paste and glassed sand. Its remains splattered over the nearby buildings, spray-painting them with macabre graffiti.
Power crackled in my legs and my surroundings became a blur.
I barreled through one gargoyle, then two, then thirty. Screeches were started and then cut short, flights taking off and then canceled midair.
A clap of thunder bellowed in the depths of Alonzia, a streak of plum and white tearing through it like greased lightning. The air seared against the friction of my incredible speed.
Every last one of the town’s assailants exploded, popping like stone water balloons filled with meat and organs. The final two adventurers that still held them off shielded their bodies from the spray of blood, the liquid hot to the touch from friction. When they pulled their arms down, barely anything remained of their previously fierce and dangerous foes. The highlander and beastman fell to the floor in exhaustion, relieved at the sudden eradication of their horde of enemies. Pushed back into a corner and making their final prayers, they had prepared to make their final stand.
But now, there was no need.
Their enemies were little more than a coat of paint on their armor now, swallowed and then spit out by a radiant beam. The duo looked at each other, trying to rationalize the situation in the only way that made sense.
"The hero. She’s awakened."
Then, they passed out, adrenaline reserves fully spent.
----------------------------------------
When I found Hana again, she was asleep. Her delicate form seemed out of place amidst the destruction, like a fragile flower that had somehow taken root in the scorched earth. The world around her had been transformed into a sprawling graveyard of shattered glass, broken stone, and fresh, warm blood.
Hana’s bright blonde hair was stained by the ashes of catastrophe and dust clung to her tattered sundress. Streaks of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth, but more important than anything, she was alive. I felt so relieved.
Though relief did nothing to stem my surprise when I found her.
Her delicate body levitated effortlessly, as if supported by invisible hands. An ethereal aura emanated from her, radiating a light that was all too similar to the kind that glimmered on my skin. As I drew closer, the light glowed even brighter. I stared at my hand, clenching it into a fist. Tendrils of the purple aura snaked from her body, curling around my arm and embracing it.
I was exhausted, but I felt strong. So strong.
And now I knew what had really come over me.
…
Well, not really. Whatever empowerment Hana had cast on me was ambiguous at best. That being said, I had enough of an idea to infer this was a borrowed power, and even more of an idea that without it, I would be pushing daisies. It would be best if I did everything in my power to keep her safe, if not for my own safety, then to fulfill the debt I owed her.
I took her floating body into my arms, and the light she emitted started to dissipate like it was only ever an illusion.
She weighed little more than a feather to me now, so I was careful to handle her as gently as I could. Slowly and gingerly, I began to walk to the center of the town, where most of the damage had been done. The destruction was severe, and it was clear that many had suffered death long before I could even begin to help them.
But without Hana, we would all be gone.
I owed her a debt, and anyone still alive in this town did too. That much was for certain. The questions I had for her could be saved for later, but I had a sinking suspicion that she knew about as much as I did. After all, she didn’t strike me as the type to hide things; our talk at the parlor had convinced me of that.
I brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. Her blonde hair was matted and soiled with blood and grime. Thankfully, none of this blood was her own.
"Thank you for saving us, hero," I mumbled under my breath, hoping she could hear my words in all their authenticity.
She stirred in her sleep, but did not awaken from her slumber. This was okay too. She deserved the rest.
"I do not recall saving anyone today."
But it seemed that I did not have the same luxury.
An unfamiliar voice pierced the din, ringing clear and true like a clarion call. Unlike the low groan of malice that the gargoyles owned, it was a voice of strength and confidence; the voice of someone who had stared into the abyss and emerged unscathed. Still he spoke:
"I was awakened to quell the forces of evil once more, as the goddess urged. I assume that evil might be you."
I turned to see the source of this proclamation, my curiosity piqued by the boldness of their words. Standing tall amidst the sea of fire and broken buildings was a figure cloaked in the trappings of a champion. The surface of their armor gleamed with an iridescent sheen, reflecting the hues of the sun and the moon, as though the heavens themselves had blessed it with their grace.
Etched upon the chestplate, the solid red silhouette of a dragon. The armor's pauldrons bore the likeness of the same fierce, winged creatures, their eyes aglow with an inner fire.
The man's gaze fell upon me, and I could feel the weight of his judgment.
"You, who have wallowed in the suffering of others," the man declared, their voice resounding with a righteous tone.
"State your name. I will be the last to hear its foul sound."
I clicked my tongue.
I had no idea who this person was, but his judgement was clearly misinformed.
Given the state of things, I probably wasn’t going to be able to talk myself out of this. I was one of the few people left standing, after all, and I was carrying around an incapacitated and clearly vulnerable girl.
It wasn’t a good look. I'd be suspicious of myself in this situation too.
"Hey, wait a second. Let’s not be too hasty with the decision-making here. I’m one of the good guys. Alonzia got attacked by monsters, and I fended them off with the newly summoned hero."
I gestured with a nod to Hana.
"We don’t mean any harm. I was going to check around for survivors right now-"
The man drew his sword from a rift in space, its blade gleaming a bright blue, with ancient runes etched in the broad side. It seemed to bend the space around it, pulsing translucent waves of energy.
He did not seem convinced.
"I will not fall for your cheap trick, cur. The only hero here is me. Lower the girl and raise thine weapon, lest you corrupt thine honor with the taking of hostages."
The man raised his left arm into a crook and placed the sword atop his gauntlet, point facing me.
"Regardless of your choice, I will kill you where you stand, or my name is not Amhar Pendragon."
I lowered Hana to the ground, her unconscious body returning to a levitating state inches above the ground. This gave me enough time to process what the man had said, and it was a stretch to say the least.
‘Amhar? THE hero Amhar?’
He was supposed to be long dead, his era well over a Millenia ago. I would have written him off as a wannabe if his appearance wasn’t so convincing, but his aura forced me to entertain the idea of his authenticity. He looked to be the genuine article, just based on his energy alone. Still, I prodded at him with my skepticism.
"You’re lying. Amhar died at least a thousand years ago."
The man chuckled to himself, as if sharing a longstanding joke with a close friend.
Then, it hit me.
He was the spitting image of a statue in the church, one erected in a hero's honor. They really were the same, down to the mole that sat upon his left cheekbone.
'Oh no.'
My heart skipped a beat.
"Ah, yes, well. The tales of my death were greatly exaggerated."
The man’s whole body coiled, then released like a spring.