Skarlet pulled the door closed behind her, her tail wrapped around her waist to not get pinched. Her cat-like ears flicked with the change in draft, the room was dark and musty. It had been five long years since she'd done her first quest, she was now eighteen and barely getting by. That innocent naive child, excited by the prospects of a bright future died during those long years. The rumors about her only grew, people began to exclude her from things, even targeting anyone who tried to help out or associate with her. Skarlet was left alone and receded inwards, her enthusiasm dried up, and her self hate grew as the rumors began to feel true. Hearing them so much she began to think that maybe they were right, a slippery slope leading deep into a dark hole. Now she sat at the bottom of that hole, barely living, barely surviving.
Skarlet crossed through the kitchen and scaled the stairs which opened to a hallway on the second floor, a window was open at the end of it. The curtains fluttering as the moon shone light into the otherwise dark corridor. Revealing the young girl dressed in a dark worn cloak and a leather chest plate over a black shirt. A black worn skirt with frayed edges was worn around her waist, old dirty boots on her feet. People can be cruel, especially towards the things they fear, as fear has been the cause of some of the worst tragedies in the history books. Fear, is a great motivator for pain. She gazed out the window for a moment, thinking about her past, and where she was heading.
The floor creaked as she turned and headed for her room, She pushed the door open. Years of ostracization, venomous words, dirty looks, and fear so much fear. It does something to a person, makes them wonder whether there's truth to the fear. Makes them fear themselves even, seclude themselves. Deprive themselves of their own possibilities. Sometimes all that work to build walls, they forget that they need a way out. And before they know it, they've imprisoned themselves in the walls they had originally designed to protect.
"Afternoon dear." A voice reached her ears causing them to swivel in the direction of the window, she reacted immediately, drawing her sword. But just because they've imprisoned themselves in a tower of their own making.
"Who are you?" She threatened, but her composure lessened as her sword disintegrated, the dust trickled through her fingers. She glanced at the pile of dust on the floor with confusion before turning her eyes to the window. That doesn't mean they can't ever get out again, it just means they might need a little help
"Me?" The voice was laced with sarcastic surprise the curtain fluttered revealing only his legs hanging over the window sill. Suddenly the curtains blew with a gust of wind and his face could be seen. Shadowed in the night, his smile was pure white, glowing. He was a handsome man of about twenty or thirty, with beautiful, shaggy black hair and deep green eyes.
"I'm a messenger, I guess you could say, doesn't matter really cause you'll want what I have to give." He stepped into the room and the window snapped shut, he could be seen clearly now. The man wore no armor, but instead, he wore an expensive-looking garment.
It consisted of a jacket worn open over a shirt, a thin piece of cloth hung from the neck of the collared shirt. "There's a great beast coming, it needs to be defeated or it will destroy the town." The man spoke casually. "I have no stake in this town, but you, are you going to let the place where you're parents breathed there last get destroyed? So I'm going to give you the chance of a lifetime" He smiled mischievously as he straightening his collar.
"I'm no hero." She mumbled, taking a step back as he got closer. There was fear rising in her eyes and posture. The idea scared her, heros were liked, people flocked to them. She didn't want that, she feared that her natural bad luck and tendency to create pain and loss would kill more people.
"Ah," he paused, "I do apologize, I'm getting carried away." He stopped and took a step back, his movements were dramatic and almost seemed like he believed he was in a play of some kind.
"Ah, Skarlet. Such an interesting specimen." He smiled, "You have a fire in you, but yet are afraid of being near others. No quarrels with a fight, but a conversation will bring you to your knees. I've been watching you." He was arrogance incarnate, the type of person that could annoy a whole room before even speaking. It was the energy he was exuding, this narcissistic arrogance.
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Her ears twitched nervously at his words, in comparison her tail lashed angrily. "Who are you?" He was insulting her sarcastically, but it only felt worse as anger rose.
"Oh Skarlet, you're all too brave with just me, but if I'd brought friends we could have a party." He had a devilish smile. "But you'd back down immediately, find a corner to hide in, what are you scared the ceiling will cave in if you're to close to anyone."
"If you want a fight come at me, but don't involve others!" She exclaimed anger boiled, how dare this man break into her home and mock her.
"Oh no dear that hit a nerve huh, I think you're amazing. You waste away in this room all alone, terrified of repeating-" he paused, a smile passed his lips as he purposely omitted information "Only ever leaving to hunt for money, only ever spending on food and more days in this room." He turned and pulled a sword from his jacket.
It must've come from a spatial magic, but he didn't chant, it simply materialized. "You know, you're too perfect for the role." His smile vanished. "You have some monsters to kill child." The air of sarcasm and almost comical arrogance and showmanship froze like ice covering a pond.
"W-what, no way I can kill what you're talking about if you know so much about me then yo-" Skarlet felt a bit of panic rising, he was offering her the sword now as she shrunk away.
"Yes I know, just a kitten, so weak, that's why you'll train." He held out the sword. "This is a hero sword, well it's 'the' hero sword. It's generally called the soul caliber sword, but across history, it's had many names associated with it. King Arthur, Hercules, Perseus, Robin Hood, Karna, Beowulf, and many others. It's a weapon that changes shape to fit the user's needs. It's a weapon that creates heroes"
"So it just makes you stronger?" She asked, her eyes searching him, her hand hesitantly began to move towards the only to stop as she flinched at his next words.
"Of course not, if you took all of its power at once it would rip your body apart. You must slowly draw out its power over the course of your life, in other words, you must train with it the more you kill the stronger it'll become. It's called The soul caliber sword because it fuses with your soul when you use it, it feeds off of your soul and strengthens your soul in return. It both consumes and revitalizes your soul at the same time, but in order to revitalize it requires heroic actions and killing of powerful beasts, things that have a lot of blood on their hands." He turned to her with a serious face. "Which obviously would mean if you were to take the sword and never use it, it would consume you and you would die. Take the sword and become my hero." A flood of emotions passed through her as she reached towards it, not a dominant motivating emotion like ambition and desire. The man had told her she could get stronger, this filled her with Hope. Not a petty desire for strength but a need to be strong enough to protect. Strong enough to not fear the death of those she loved due to her own incompetent strength.
She stepped forward and reached out, gripping the handle, a flow of energy was released and all the candles went out. As Scarlet's eyes readjusted she looked around the room, the man was gone and her hand was bleeding. Pain throbbed in her palm, and she could've sworn she felt a heartbeat. The sword had drawn blood, she could feel it sucking on her soul, a vampiric sword. Did he lie to her, entirely, maybe just a little or would everything he said ring true. It didn't matter because soon she would find out, a beast was coming he said, she would kill it and become a hero. And the next hero she wondered, would he list her name? Would she be worthy of his list of heroes? In the end, it didn't matter, it doesn't matter because this wasn't for becoming a hero. . . it's redemption.
Skarlet drew the sword from its sheath, it was very plain but he said it took whatever form made sense, too flashy of a sword would stick out. But he was right about one thing, she thought, I'm a timid scaredy-cat, is it even possible for me to become a hero.
"It doesn't matter, starting tomorrow, I'm going to start killing as many beasts as possible. That would be the quickest way to find out if he was telling the truth as far as the sword."
And if it's true, if I become a hero, maybe then I can forgive myself. A few faces flashed in her mind and a deep regret began to rise to the surface, she pushed it down and wiped the tear that had started its trek down her cheek. but It's not really about being a hero, no that was a means to an end, a selfish desire. The belief that a hero lives happily ever after and she desperately wanted to be happy. To feel what that little girl felt all those years ago before she killed her parents.