"Again. Their stares are really starting to annoy me."

Their eyes looked warped—full of disdain, as if they were staring at a pile of dog shit on the roadside. And why? Because I was carrying a cat in my arms. Nothing more, nothing less.

I had just rescued her from a maple tree a few minutes ago. The tree was brimming with life, vibrant green leaves, healthy bark. A beautiful sight, I thought.

Meow.

The cat nestled against my chest, her pitch-black fur brushing against the fabric of my dark anorak. My right hand gently ran over her head in a soothing motion.

"Just a moment, you'll be back with your owner soon," I whispered into one of her perked-up ears. She relaxed, as if she understood my words.

"Isn't that the useless hero?" someone called out from behind me.

Naturally, I ignored them. Their behavior was nothing new to me.

My gaze wandered over the crowded street. Houses stood side by side, haphazardly crammed together. The plaster was already peeling off the walls, giving them a neglected look.

A particularly tempting beer can caught my eye, carelessly discarded on the pavement.

"Just like the weak who live here," I mused.

"I wouldn't call him a hero. I heard he only takes on lowly jobs. A saint who cares for the poor. How noble," another person sneered.

I curled my lips in disdain. "Filthy rabble. Where’s the garbage collection?"

A knocked-over trash can had caught my attention, the reason for my complaint. It lay there carelessly, a testament to the contempt for menial labor.

"Whatever. Time to get out of here."

Once again, an important fact became painfully clear to me. I hated the city. Everything was filthy. Too many rude people. Had I mentioned the filth? And perhaps the filth?

My violet eyes twitched, disgusted by the scene. I hated dirt. Disorder was unbearable. The moment I spotted a single cobweb in my apartment, it began.

Armed with a duster and a cleaning bucket, I would scrub down the entire house. My roommates despised those moments. I moved every piece of furniture. "You never know where another speck of dust might be hiding," I always said.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I earned a few measly coins, along with a look that might as well have told me to crawl into the trash where I belonged.

Same as always. As friendly as ever. Gratitude was clearly a top priority in their worldview.

By the afternoon, I had left the city behind. At once, the air of the open fields embraced me, refreshing my senses. A crisp breeze replaced the daily stench of tobacco and refuse.

I sank deeper into the comfortable leather seat, letting myself relax. The monotonous sound of the carriage wheels lulled me into a lethargic state. My eyes grew heavy, my tense body slowly loosening, my breathing becoming steady.

Colorful meadows, lush green fields, and small groves passed by. The cheerfully smiling sun cast a warm, inviting glow over the landscape, bathing it in warmth and security. Everything seemed so idyllic, so different from the city. Naturally, I observed it all from the comfort of my window, stretching lazily in my seat.

"Finally, the weekend."

Many low-ranking heroes worked even on weekends, but I had no interest in that nonsense. Who would willingly spend their days staring at the same detestable faces, enduring the ceaseless glares of contempt?

"We've reached the edge of District One," the coachman informed me. His voice was surprisingly pleasant, carrying no trace of disdain.

As the saying goes: Like attracts like. Though other heroes would probably phrase it differently—the same trash ends up in the same bin.

I tossed the man a few coins and bid him a polite farewell. In two days, he would pick me up from this exact spot.

As soon as the coachman disappeared, I stepped forward, toward the dark fir forest ahead. The space between me and the trees began to distort.

Within minutes, I had covered several miles. "Phew, it's good to finally move freely again," I sighed in relief.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The whispering wind accompanied me as I ventured deeper into the forest. The sharp fir needles reached out as if they intended to never let me go. A shadowy invitation to step further into the unknown.

Soon, the soft murmur of a stream mingled with the rustling wind. I let my senses expand, sweeping over my surroundings. This forest teemed with vermin, which was precisely why most people avoided it.

Something rushed toward me. Something big.

Calmly, I extended my senses downward, into the earth. A few moments later, I felt it, pure silver, buried three miles beneath my feet. It resonated with a distinct, unmistakable hum.

A single thought, and a lump of silver floated before me. "First, I'll shape it. Then, I'll divide it."

The outlines of three swords now hovered in the air.

Next, I envisioned a blue flame. With it, I heated the metal, then tempered it. Finally, I reheated it once more and fused the three layers together.

Carefully, I caught the finished product. My critical gaze seemed to unsettle even the silver itself as I scanned it for imperfections. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long.

"Mh, pretty bad. The balance is off. It's too light and not sharp enough," I cursed in frustration. "The stability is below average too. Far worse than my other swords."

A loud crash sounded just a few meters away. Something leaped toward me.

"Ugh, a spider."

It towered over me three times my height. Eight beady eyes tracked my every move. Most people would have frozen in terror under its gaze—an ancient, primal hunger burned within them, boundless, as if it sought to devour everything in existence.

"Nope, not fighting you. You're too unhygienic. And ugly, too."

The spider lunged forward, only to vanish in a burst of flames. Nothing remained. Not even a pile of ash.

"Weak," I muttered indifferently.

"Now, back to you," I said, turning my attention to the useless sword. A single thought later, it had transformed into a pile of silver coins in my hand.

"It's nice not having money problems," I sighed in satisfaction.

A scream.

I spun around. "Definitely human," I concluded immediately. "But what is a human doing in this area?"

I quickly pinpointed their location. "Twelve people. They're on a field, a few miles away."

I shook my head in disappointment. No creatures were with them. That could only mean one thing.

I envisioned a gray cloak forming from several fir branches. From a gnarled piece of wood, I shaped a mask. Finally, I crafted a fine walking staff.

"Time to go."

"Please, at least let my sister go," I begged desperately.

One of the men turned to me. His eyes held an unmistakable look. Evil. Lustful, filled with depraved desire. The hairs on my neck stood on end. Sweat began forming on my forehead.

Still, I maintained a stoic expression. All for my little sister.

The man stroked his unkempt beard thoughtfully. "Calm down, sweetheart. You're in good hands."

"Bard, don't touch her. They'll fetch us a good price."

Bard’s eyes twisted in displeasure. "Come on, at least let us have some fun with them. Don't you see her chest? Would be a waste."

"The buyers don’t have to know," a bald man agreed.

The other seven nodded in unison.

"Please, no," I pleaded silently. Their gazes made me want to vomit. Their intent was painfully obvious. Even a blind man could have seen their plans.

"Still no. But to shut you up, you can have the younger one. Do whatever you want. She's in bad shape anyway."

"Hell yeah, sounds like a deal."

"Nooo," I screamed in despair. "Not Lilia! Take me! Leave her alone!"

One of the men shoved something roughly into my mouth. Probably an old rag, or some other filthy bundle of cloth. The rancid taste made me gag, overwhelming my senses.

"Boss, let's set up camp here. Nice view here, isn't it." However, he did not look at the surroundings, but at my sister.

"Do what you want. But tomorrow we will continue. Without complaints," he emphasized sullenly.

Without wasting time, the bastards set up some tents. The fabric fluttered in the wind. Gave the surrounding area a hustle and bustle.

"Who gets them first? Solving sounds good, doesn't it?"

A boisterous bawling promised a common agreement. Each pulled a branch. The one with the longest would be first in line. Bard won. He gave me a contemptuous look. Then he pointed to my sister and moved his hips suggestively.

I sprang forward. At least I tried. Unfortunately, the attempt failed miserably due to a rope. The barbarians had tied me to a dead tree.

I shook myself. Pulled the strings. Nothing happened. Except for the pain in my joints.

Bard shook his head pitifully. He then picked up my sister. Her hands and feet were tied. Their view was obscured by a small jute bag. Bruises and the torn dress testified to the abuse.

She was stronger than me. That is why she fought with all her might against the barbarians. She even managed to kill two of them. Unfortunately, she lost to her leader.

Bard laid her on the ground just a few steps away from me. "Watch closely," he whispered to me sneeringly.

His hand ran roughly over her body. The remains of the dress came off. Revealed their silky skin.

"Not bad," he commented happily. His tongue moistened his lips. His eyes glowed with anticipation. "I hope the bastard leaves us something too," another person growled quietly.

My eyes filled with tears. I was so helpless. I couldn't do anything. Just watch. A silent witness to their unspeakable torments. And everything how they were stronger. They could do whatever they wanted. Because they owned the most important things. The necessary strength to cover their deeds.

"Please, someone, help her."

One movement caught my attention. Tickled the corners of my eyes. At first, I didn't pay attention to her.

"Hm, who is that," Bard growled annoyed. His eyes fixed on a spot to my right.

I followed his gaze. There, I spotted an unfamiliar figure. His green cloak fluttered merrily in the wind’s current. A hood obscured my view, but I thought I could even make out the hint of a mask beneath it.

A strange aura surrounded him, almost as if he were one with the environment. He exuded a terrifying presence, despite appearing to be nothing more than a traveler.

What made me pause, however, were the two violet dots beneath the mask. His eyes. There was something about them that captivated me. They looked so... cold and distant.

“Hey, you, get lost. I’m in a good mood right now. So if you just leave...”

Startled, I snapped my eyes open. The man was suddenly standing in front of my sister. And Bard... he was lying on the ground, his skull crushed.

A simple wooden staff had spread his brain matter across the floor. Blood dripped onto the ground. Like a sign of finality.

Suddenly, life returned to the camp.

“We’re being attacked.”