Tale 1 -『Hero』
Today was the big day. The final day that I would spend in my village, and then set out for the wide open world.
I looked around, engraving my home into memory.
The creaky wooden table that stood near the corner. When we were done eating, I would turn it sideways to make space for my hammock.
The hole in the floor, which served as my own chest.
The cramped kitchen, where I had caused many a fire.
The towers of books on one side, and how I would spent my nights reading.
My practice swords hanging crookedly on the wall.
I was going to miss it.
Oh. Who am I kidding? I wasn’t going to miss it.
Every hero’s home is a cocoon, a necessary but boring part. Their true adventures start when they emerged and were out there in the world. And soon, so would mine.
“Son, you ready?”
I turned around to see my father entering. Even for an elf, his footsteps were unnaturally light. Years of being a ranger training must have helped with that.
“I think I am, dad. ” I replied back.
“Exactly a year ago, you ran off, saying you didn’t want to wait.” He smiled slightly. “What happened now?”
“Another year with you, I suppose.” I said, hugging him. My eyes might have misted there.
“Don’t cry, son.” he said, looking stoic as ever. Father rarely showed any emotions. “Your mother would be proud of you.”
Mother had died of sickness years ago, when I was too young to remember. My father didn’t mention her, as he found it too painful. Once, after a bad day of bullying, I had asked him whether she left me because I was a half-elf. That was the first and last day I had seen my father cry. We grew a lot closer after that.
“Well, I ought to get started. See the village for the last time. Then there’s the matter of the Cup.”
“You want the Cup?” He laughed, a welcome sound in the household. “If anyone can do it, it’s you!”
He then turned serious. “I won’t have the time for this later, so I’ll give it you now. Probably will come useful to you today.”
He walked over to the cupboard, and pulled the top out. It slid smoothly downwards. A secret compartment? Was my father giving me a heroic weapon?
“Dad, I don’t need-”
“It’s not a secret weapon.” he said, taking out a small black box.
“Oh. Alright.”
“Here,” he said, handing me the box. “I once promised myself that if you stuck to my training, you needed some sort of reward. Originally a sword, but after your ‘hero trinity’ ramblings, I thought this would be better.”
I tentatively opened the box. Inside were a pair of vambraces. It was of a dull blue colour. That meant tempered steel. And it was layered and designed in the motif of a dragon. The artwork was amazingly detailed, and the whole thing was incredibly light. Whoever had made this was a true artist.
“Dad, they’re beautiful. This must -”
“Don’t worry about the cost, son. You deserve this. See if it fits, why don’t you?”
I tried them on. It fit snugly. Father must have got it custom made for me.
“How is it?”
“Perfect.”
“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about. I will meet you at the fields. Go on now, win the Cup. ”
“I will.” I said, and stepped outside.
Our house a little distance away from the real village. From here, I could see the riot of colours from the tents set up. The Midsummer’s festival had already begun.
The mid-summer’s festival was the yearly festival where we all celebrated the harvest, and prayed for the next one. People would eat, drink and be merry. Merchants came from far away to sell their wares and buy the produce. More importantly, it marked everyone’s age. For me, it meant turning eighteen. The minimum age of joining the Adventurers guild.
Even better, each year the village would hold several contests. Some of them were boring, like the Largest Pig. But others were better. For example the Cup. The Cup had been started by Cedric Giant-Slayer, the first hero from our village. But that was over 40 years.
Simply put, the Cup consisted of four contests - The contest of Aim, Contest of Might, Contest of Will and Contest of Varlet (basically thievery, but that couldn’t be stated outright). Only winning all four would result in the Hero Cup. No one had managed to do it up till now.
“Hey Nero! You dreaming again?” Rujen asked. “Guess at what I got you!” He waved a box around.
An incredibly sweet smell, with hints of butter wafted in the air. And the slight smell of… apples. No, that was a trick. The apple wasn’t baked.
“A blueberry cupcake?” I guessed.
“Damn it, man! It’s crazy how you do that!” Rujen opened the box, revealing my guess to be correct. “I even got the baker to pack it in the apple box!”
“You can’t fool my nose, bro.” I laughed. “So, how’s the festival, Ru?” We started walking.
“Here’s my report: We have the Miller twins, a blonde merchant, Amelia, Karen… and Leluri so far. Now the twins, I’ll rate them a 9, or 8. Perfect angels! Blonde has a okay face, but you should see her-”
“Rujen, I’m not hitting on girls today.” I took a bite of the cupcake. Delicious. “It’s my last day here, so I’m thinking of winning the Cup.”
Rujen’s face fell. I think some part of him still didn’t believe it. He was a year younger than me, and wanted us to go together.
“So you’re really going? I mean why? You could easily stay another-”
“Nuh-uh, Rujen. There’s a long road ahead, and delaying it won’t help.” I replied, taking another bite. We walked in silence for a while, then he spoke.
“So be it. But we ride today, bro. You, me and the twins. One wild orgy. Heck-”
“No orgies and no parties today Rujen. Today we are paragons of virtue.” I said as I waved to one to Bjolern the blacksmith. He smiled back. I had served as an assistant in his shop a few years ago, in my quest to learn everything. He seemed genuinely upset when I left.
Walking through the tents and stalls, Rujen and I talked about the tournaments, laughing our assess off watching the Biggest Turnip Contest.
It had been close one, with Dickus winning because of his turnip was just a quarter inch longer. Then he was disqualified as it turned out he had used banned fertilizers, and the prize eventually went to Biggus Dickus, his estranged son who he had disowned because he wasn’t a true turnip farmer. A wild turnip from the start to the finish.
“I haven’t seen this much drama since last year’s Biggest Pig contest!” I said to Rujen, tears down my eyes.
“Yeah! But to be fair, they really hadn’t banned cannibal pigs!”
We remembered the brutal scene, and burst out laughing again.
As we exited back into the fair, we saw that the crowd had grown. We needed to dodge our way through the people. Most of them were from the village, but there were outsiders I couldn’t recognize. Particularly a-
“Are you looking at okay-face merchant? Fine, we’ll have her as-”
“Rujen. Paragons of Virtue. Alright?”
He dejectedly nodded.
We had reached the center of the fair, where a small stage was being set. Mayor Ricker was shouting from one corner at the others, asking the workers to hurry up. Everyone looked pissed.
“I think we should-”
“Hello boys! Care to give a hand?” Crap. Ricker had spotted us.
“Sorry, Mayo-” Rujen began, but I shushed him.
“We will be happy to, Mayor, but we are on an errand for Tamaran. So we can’t. Sorry.” I then grabbed Rujen and walked away as fast as I could.
Ricker was one of the major pain in my life. In front of others, he would act like a cheerful old grandfather. Behind the smiling face was a hugely racist bigot who wanted me gone. He didn’t attack directly though. No, it was through pure chance that he needed help whenever I was passing by. Bastard.
Walking leftwards, we soon reached the fighting fields. A huge crowd had already gathered, and we had to push our way through. At the other end was Tamaran, the only blademaster in the village, along with a few other participants.
“Rujen, Nero, you’re here. Good. I was afraid that Ricker would somehow get a hold of you.” He grimaced involuntary. “Now you’re participating, right?”
“Of course.”
“You have a sword?” he asked.
“No.” I shrugged. Contest rules dictated that participants couldn’t use their own weapons. I had left them at home.
“That’s a relief.” He wrote my name down. “You’re with Orun in the sixth bracket.” I nodded, but he continued speaking.
“And Nero, I am supposed to be impartial judge, but here’s a secret.” He beckoned us to come closer. “If you accidentally hit the guy a little strongly, I may not notice. Got it?” Rujen and I nodded. We all know who he was talking about.
Ricker Junior. Like his father, only more disgusting and open about his sleazy ways. He was my main tormentor since childhood. After I beat him up in a contest of might four years ago, his father had cried foul and got me banned. Today he was going to get it again.
He sat surrounded by his lackeys. I could see him talking to a few outsider girls. The only girls that would talk to the slime. Everyone in our village knew his ways. I could overhear his words, and they made me boil.
“And so I thought, I would be the first one. The hero who would rise through hard work alone!” He paused, and the girls tittered in ooo's and aah’s. “And so I changed. Changed my life into an extreme one… always hard working…”
Son of a bitch stole my line.
“Tamaran, I am going to beg.” I motioned him closer. “Just let me hit him hard and good today, and we wouldn’t have any more Rickers in the village.”
Tamaran thought for a second, then nodded slightly. “Fine. But only one hit. And make it an accident.”
“Done.”
***
Whatever may happen in my life afterwards, whatever accomplishments I might make, whatever losses I might have to suffer, for me that Contest of Might would always be in the top ten of my saddest memories. That’s what I thought after it was over.
Even when Tamaran presented me the special contest armor, the disappointment was plain on his face. People could see me sigh as I accepted it. Even the clappings and cheers were muted, mirroring our disappointment. The world seemed empty to me.
Ricker Junior had been knocked out in the first round.
His opponent was an outsider, so we really couldn’t blame the guy. He didn’t know better. He had approached Ricker seriously, and knocked him hard across the face, testing his opponent. What he hadn’t expected that Ricker would faint on the spot and piss himself. A few had cheered, but the rest of us sighed, disappointed like me about the shoddy ending.
After that, nobody really stuck around to see me winning. Why would they? Even I wouldn’t.
“Come on, you won. Don’t you feel happy at all?” Rujen tried to cheer me up.
“Yeah, but if.. I could beat Ricker up, it would be more complete, you know? Like a proper goodbye to him and the village.”
“Oh come on..”
“No, you’re right.” I said, as I inspected the prize armor. It was a plain leather armor, crafted lovingly with stitches barely invisible to the naked eye. No decorations whatsoever, but testing it had revealed it to be completely practical. And most importantly, it was comfortable.
“Bjolern and Surel worked together to make this, didn’t he?” Rujen asked me. “He makes some good stuff. My dad says his works are better than some of the big-city blacksmiths. And I know that he gives it his all for the contest armor.”
“I sure hope so. The one I have is completely tattered.”
We had arrived at the next Contest. Archery, my favourite. There was a crowd here too, but it didn’t compare to the other one. This was the longest event of the day, and most of the people would show up for the finale.
I walked over to my father. “Well, I am here to win.” Father was the one who conducted the Contest of Aim.
“Heard you won the other one easily.” He smiled and continued. “Ricker decided that a father judging his son was against the rules, and stopped me. Deckre is now the one doing the honors.”
Deckre was the second best hunter in the village, just after dad. He would be a fair enough judge. Even Ricker couldn’t screw this one up.
“And what’s the prize?” I asked.
“A Duskwood Bow.” Dad replied.
“Cool! Like yours?” I asked. Dad had a Duskwood bow, one of his prized possessions. Something about the wood made it long-lasting and highly flexible.
“Exactly like mine, I’m afraid.” He said.
“Ricker made you give up your bow as a prize?” I asked. The man’s depravity know no bounds.
“Eh. He was looking for a way to get me. But I am not worried as you’re going to win.” He smiled again. “Not exactly how I wanted to give it, but it works.”
“That bow is yours, Dad!”
“No, I was going to give it you anyway but couldn’t. In a sense, Ricker actually helped. You’ll win easily.”
It was true. I had shot so many arrows by now that I could do it in my sleep. No one else in the village came close.
“It works for me.” I replied. “Let me go and win it.”
***
“You know, if I ever tell my own story, I’m going to skip over this part. That was beyond boring.” I said, as I inspected my dad’s bow in my hands.
“Boring? You didn’t miss a single shot!” Ru exclaimed. “I can see now why the Mayor banned you! You would have won every year!”
“Don’t praise now, Ru” I slung the bow over my shoulders. “The real battle starts now. Angelina has been winning the Will battles for the last three years, and you’re the champion Varlet - ”
Rujen started to act surprised, but I didn’t let him.
“- when you actually take part.” I finished.
“Sorry, but Eruviel said that I’m too good and it wouldn’t be fair. Besides, he already has taken me as his apprentice, so I know what’s in store for today!” He good naturedly laughed, while I was inwardly amazed. I knew Rujen was talented, but to be Eruviel’s apprentice…
Eruviel was a rogue in a trained adventurer party. His knowledge of traps and poisons were even greater than my father and the village physician combined. I had learned from him too, but Rujen was the one who was a natural prodigy. If he had taken Rujen as an apprentice, it meant Rujen’s course for an adventurer was completely clear.
“Apprentice? Will you raiding tombs too?”
“Perhaps one or two smaller ones in the Marsh. But you’ve been there, haven’t you? What’s it like?”
The Marsh was, well... the Marsh. A nasty, stinking, rotting pile of dead trees and stagnant waters that extended as far as the country of Rochestria. Sunken catacombs lay scattered about there, hiding treasures and deadly monsters. The marsh itself was a slime and goblin infestation, making it an ideal place for training. I had gone earlier this year alone, to prepare myself for life as an adventurer. Smelled like rotten slime for weeks afterwards.
“You’ll love it.” I replied. “It’s an unforgettable experience.”
Rujen laughed again. “I’ll look forward to it, then.” We had circularly walking through the edges and made our way to the third contest. It was inside a small purplish and blue tent, which was mostly empty.
The Contest of Will clashed times with the Bakery contest, and also ended very quickly. Not many participants or viewers.
There was usually a single task, and it usually ended up on luck. And the people who were lucky were then demolished by Angelina, the mage’s apprentice. Last year she had won unopposed.
“Master Fauirs?” I asked. “I am here to participate in the contest.”
Was he sleeping? No, his hands slightly stirred, and he opened his eyes.
“Hello, Rujen Nero. Just, write your name here, please…” he disinterestedly waved his hand around.
We looked around. “Where?” I asked.
“Here…” he waved again. Not a single thing lay about on which anything could be written.
“There’s nothing here, Master Fauirs.” Rujen guilty remarked.
“Oh? Is that so? Well let’s… skip the name part… we’ll just begin… ” He yawned again in the end.
“Well, okay.” I said, looking around. “Isn’t Angelina participating?”
“Who?”
“Your apprentice.” I reminded him.
“Oh. I call her Angie. Yes, yes. We’ll begin when she gets here… if it’s alright with you. Or you want the prize… now?” The guy was seriously bad at controlling his yawns.
“I will wait.” After the disappointment with Ricker Jr, I wanted to defeat Angelina in a fair manner.
Few awkward minute laters, Rujen started fidgeting. He would open his mouth to say something, then close it and walk away again. After it happened for the third time, I pulled him close and asked.
“Do you need to be somewhere else?”
“Well.. Not really no.” Rujen withered under my glare. “I mean Eruviel did ask for help in setting up the contest, but he’ll understand… probably.”
“Rujen, let me impart you a little knowledge right here.” I pulled him close. “When you promise something, you always try to keep it. Got it?” I slapped him on the back. “Now go. I’ll meet you after winning this.”
“Are you sure. I mean-”
“Just go, Rujen.”
It took me another good minute of cajoling to finally send him off. Now we were alone, Master Fauirs and I. Where was Angelina?
“Master Fauirs, at what time do you actually begin?”
“I don’t know… Angie’s had been pestering me to start, but I knew… someone would come along… ”
A complete lie. Fauirs was lazy when it came anything other than magic. But he was a brilliant and a great teacher.
Actually no, he wasn’t a great teacher. Brilliant, yes but not great. The problem with brilliant minds is that they can’t understand that people aren’t as quick as them. In my short time as a pupil, I needed to learn most things by myself. Sometimes, Fauirs would drop by and say something incredibly clever, forcing me to see things in a new light.
In a way, Fauirs was exactly the teacher I needed. Learning magic needed not practice and memorization but cleverness and ingenuity. Without Fauirs, I might have never discovered that.
The tent opened again, and a small freckled boy entered. But instead of walking over to the emptying crowd, he waltzed straight over to us.
“I wanna participate.” he declared.
“Hello. Just, write your name, here please-” Fauirs said again.
“Woah, wait a minute.” I interjected. “Do you even know magic?”
“No.”
“But you want to participate?” Who the hell is he?
“Yes!”
“You can’t participate without learning magic, you know.”
“I learn quickly. I will watch others and learn.”
The boy was young, about ten or eleven years old. But he didn’t appear to be joking. I looked for Fauirs for help, but he looked apathetic as usual. So I took matters in my hand.
“Sit down, okay?” I took him aside and pointed towards one of the chairs. The tent was empty by now, with a few people peeking in at times.
I sat down in front of the boy and talked. “Now you can’t learn magic by watching, alright? One cannot learn magic in one day, understand?”
“Why not?” The kid was seriously annoying.
“What’s your name?”
“Conan.”
“Conan, becoming a wizard takes time. You have to practice and work hard, see?”
The boy was starting to crack. “But my pa said, that if I don’t have stones, I can’t become a magician! But I wanna be one! I want to be like Zelfir!” His voice broke down and the kid started to cry. Just great.
“Even Powun can use magic now! And… he says that I’ll never be magician cauz I’m poor! So I’ll win! win stones… today!” He was sniffling heavily, and I couldn’t make sense of anything he said in the end. But the general gist of his story was same as mine.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Calm down.” I said, wiping his tears away. “Now look at me, will you? You don’t need to be rich to be a wizard.”
“But-” Instead of stopping, I continued on.
“I wasn’t rich, but I’m a good magician. Being rich is not necessary, no matter what anyone says.”
“So you do get the stones? Without eating them, you can’t use magic! And you need to be rich to buy them!” He nearly started crying again.
“Just stop alright? Don’t cry.” I hurriedly started. “You said you’re a fast learner?”
He simply nodded.
“So I’m going to teach you magic, and how to be a magician even if you’re poor. But you’ll have to behave.”
His entire face lit up and a huge smile appeared on his face. “Tell me!”
“Okay. First of all, your foundation is wrong. So we begin by correcting that. Every being has mana -”
“Magic energy? But-”
“Will you let me speak? Every being has mana, or magical energy. The energy is like a tide, it ebbs and flows and changes haphazardly. Several theorists determine it to be a Cosmic Force-”
I stopped when I looked at his confused face.
“Mana inside you is constantly changing. Nobody knows why.” I simplified.
“Oh. Okay.”
“But this mana is unusable in spellcasting. That’s where cores come in, not stones. Cores have elemental mana. Stones are the rocks you play with. Now cores do look like gems, but they have internal light, while stones, of even the best variety, don’t.”
He was again confused.
“Cores glow. Stones don’t.” I stated.
“Why couldn’t you just say that?”
“Now cores, as I said, are elemental. We have fire, water, earth, air, as basic elementals. Then we have the rarer ones - lightning, light, dark, metal, poison. Even rarer are supposed exist, like the mind core, which was mentioned in story of Zelfir.”
“Cores are of different types.” I summarized.
“I understood that completely. Do you think I’m a kid?”
Swallowing a word that didn’t want to say, I continued.
“Cores also have different levels of power. Typically the light inside a core reveals it. When you actualize a core, the power determines the power of your spell. We measure the glow and the power with Lux.
In ordinary terms, it goes ----
Dead > Dim> Faint > Feeble > Soft > Bright > Strong > Alight > Intense.
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Got it?”
He nodded, but I was sure he actually didn’t understand anything.
“Brighter-” This time, he stopped me.
“Just go on!”
“Alright. Now here comes the practical part.” I took out a small dim red core from my pocket and showed him.
“Look. This is a core. It’s a cheap one, as you can barely see the glow. The red colour means fire. It’s lux rating is 3, meaning it will barely light a candle. Cores such as this are often said to be dead, so this one is called dead-fire or 0-Fire core. And it is now yours.”
“YAY!” Despite the disappointing core, the kid was happy.
“Now do as I say.” He nodded solemnly. “Close your eyes. Hold the core in your hands, and try to imagine a ball in the center of heart. The ball is a liquid one, and it’s slowly rotating. Feel it. Feel it… ”
I continued slowly for a minute, helping him visualize his mana. Most people failed this step, barring them from becoming a magician forever.
“I CAN! I can! I can feel the ball!”
“Good. Now imagine a small river extend from the ball, to your shoulders, to the elbows, and finally to your hands. Feel it suck the small ball in your hands, taking it inside you.”
Even if the mana could be felt, some people couldn’t move their mana at all. Another cruel fact that weeded the non-magicians out.
In front of my eyes, the core glowed briefly, and then disappeared. The boy had done it.
“Big bro! I can feel the second ball inside. It’s warm, but it’s so small!” He narrowed his eyes.
Wow. The kid might do actually be a decent mage.
“Good. Now use your own mana, and force it inside the other one.”
People also failed here. They could sync with the smaller level cores, but failed against the higher leveled ones.
“It’s resisting… but I can force my own…” He triumphantly opened his eyes. “I did it.”
“Congratulations! Now you’re a mage!”
He laughed happily. “I can do it now! I know how to cast a spell!” He closed his eyes and focused it, and sure enough, a small spark appeared from the tip of his finger.
“And you cast your first spell!”
Magic was intuitive in some ways. Once you understand the concept of inner mana and the core mana, you can easily do it. And the freckled kid had succeeded despite all barriers. Lucky.
“Now, here’s what happens. Your inner mana cannot be used to cast spells. That’s where the cores come in. Cores have power and an attribute. You first initialize by taking the core inside your body. Then you actualize it, by forcing or as mages say, synchronizing your mana with the core mana. The more the synchronization, the better the spell. For low level cores, syncing is easy. Higher levels require time and patience, as you gradually break in.”
He nodded rapidly.
“For casting a spell you direct your mana to the core, which then releases it as you want. Now your inner mana is variable, and can be increased by meditation or tricks. You’ll find lots of books on it. But it will be very slow. Regularity is your key here.”
“Yes! I will work hard!”
“But the focus is on cores. Cores are the funnels through which your mana flows. Without good cores, your inner mana doesn’t matter. This is the rich poor divide, where they can simply buy it and you’ll have to work. You want to know how I did it?”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Yes.”
“I did it the normal way. I trained hard, and saved money. I bought basic cores. I killed low level monsters. I earned money again. I bought better cores, killed tougher monsters. And repeat it until you’re satisfied.”
He nodded again.
“Now, you need to know what type mage you're going to be. A pyromancer? A geomancer? Your choice of cores will determine everything.”
“Can’t we just… un-initialize cores? Spit them back out?”
“You can, but it’s a very slow process. You need to take back your mana, which will refuses to flow. And if you use the core again, you will have to start over again.”
“And how many-”
“The number of cores! Ah, I forgot all about it. Listen, that’s important too.
You can keep any number of cores, but every time you want to cast a spell, you have to specifically create a link through them.
Smaller cores don’t stack up. Linking a lot of small cores doesn’t mean a medium one. You are simply passing your magic through a small funnel over and over again. But it does mean you can cast lots of spells of the same element.
So you’ll need to think carefully, about how many cores and how many elements how want to play with.”
“Okay.. What’s your element? And how many cores do you have?”
“Trade-secret kid. Never tell another mage about your cores. One always wants protection from nasty surprises.”
And this point, the kid looked like he had a hundreds of questions, but we were interrupted. Angelina stormed inside the tent. Her red hair seemed to have grown even redder, but her face remained unchanged. Always angry.
“Master! The cakes are all out. I couldn’t find any!” She shouted. And then she noticed us. “What are YOU HERE FOR?”
The boy must have been frightened, because he simply ran off. Angelina had that effect on people. Me? I wasn’t afraid.
“To compete..”
My voice was just acting strange.
“What?! SPEAK LOUDER!”
“He’s here for the Contest, Angie.” Fauirs calmly replied.
“SO YOU WANT YOUR ASS KICKED? BRING IT ON!” She moved threateningly.
Now threats had been a daily part of life, so I acted reflexively. “You’re the one whose ass is -”
“Kids… can we not shout, please?” Fauirs magically enhanced voice cut us off. “Good. Now I officially begin… the contest of Will!”
“If the participants gather here, please.” He said, and he motioned us both to stand parallel to each other facing him.
“Now the challenge this time is… ” He reached into his robe and pulled out two black rods. “I have these rods. Your task is simple.” He placed the rods in front of us and moved out of the way.
“Destroy them.”
Angelina’s reaction was swift and furious. A big stream of red hot fire erupted from her hands, intent on melting it down. She was a pyromaniac, and to my knowledge, had a 5-fire core.
Me? I was a jack of all trades, master of none. All I had were level 2 and 3 cores of all basic elements. But I had a plan.
On my recent trip to the marsh, I had managed acquired a level 2 poison core. They affected only organics, and needed to be linked with another core to be properly utilized. And their potency was never high enough. All this meant poison cores were rarely utilized by mages.
But playing around with it, I had discovered something. Something that put me an advantage.
With my right index finger, I used a faint fire core to create a small stream of focused fire, which barely compared with Angelina’s.
“HAH! You’ll never win with THAT!”
“I am not done yet, Angelina!”
With my right middle finger, I used a faint wind core to create another stream of air. My fire grew hotter. But I didn’t stop. With my third finger, I added a second stream linking another fire and wind cores. Linking cores generally meant decreasing the potency, but together with the other streams, the third one increased the heat.
Now I was even.
Sweat poured, blurring my vision. I knew that the gap between core levels was impossible to bridge, and I needed to find another way. And Fauirs had shown me the path, to combine elements. Maintaining multiple spells was tough, and many a times I had fainted trying to do so. But I had gritted my teeth and continued.
A hero never gives up. To be a hero, one needed to be dedicated. And today my dedication was going to pay off.
“Watch this, Angie. This is how the winners do it.”
With my left hand, I linked up another two cores; wind and the poison. A poison stream.
Angled such that the streams crossed each other exactly at the rod.
The poison stream caught fire.
As it caught fire it didn’t burn, but turned into liquid fire, burning everything it landed upon.
The black rod burned like paper. Fauirs cheered for me.
Little fires started wherever the droplets touched. Fauirs’ table, the instruments kept on the far side started melting in the rain of fire. The cheer faded.
A huge fire erupted on side of the tent, burning it away. The cheer changed to horror.
In the midst of the burning wreckage, as they stared in awe, I asked the question.
“So, did I win?”
***
Turns out I had. Also, such accidents were quite common with Angelina around, so I didn’t have to bother too much.
Angelina had been suitably impressed with my skills, and nearly made me confess how I did it. Fauirs came to my rescue, stopping her from getting physically violent.
The reward had been a bright fire core, the one like Angelina used. Fauirs had been quite hesitant, then gave it anyway. His parting words were Don’t use it anywhere near me or my house. I tried syncing with it immediately, then realized that it would take at least a fortnight.
After my magic contest, I hurried over to the Contest of Varlet, afraid that it had already begun.
When I reached, my worst fears seemed true. Only Rujen stood at the venue, guarding a lonely box.
“You’re finally here!”
“Is it over?”
“No. They all gave up and moved on.” He motioned to the box. “Turns out this was too hard for them.”
I picked up the box, looking it over. The grainy wooden texture seemed odd to touch, wavy at places and sandy at others. There was no keyhole, or handle, or anything of the sort.
Just a plain black wooden box.
“You’ll have to open it without force.” Rujen said. “It’s easy eno-”
“Now, now Rujen.” Eruviel interrupted us. The short stocky rogue always seemed to have his mouth full. “No hints for your friend.”
“Don’t worry, Eruviel. I figured it out. But I didn’t realize you had something like this.”
I smiled. The object in front of me was something that I had read about, but didn’t actually expect to exist.
“It’s the box from the Thief in Time story, isn’t it?” I asked. “Didn’t know you were fans of the classics.”
Rujen smiled and Eruviel scowled. I was right.
The box in the story was similar to this one in all respects. But it was the description of the wood which matched exactly with what I felt, that gave the game away.
“ ‘Grainy like a rough table at bar, the underside of the box was indistinguishable from the beard of a dwarf.’ ” I quoted. “That’s because it was made from pearwood, which has a surprising way of expanding when heat is applied.” I slowly started to apply heat below.
“ ‘The upper side however was completely opposite. Like the waves of the sea had been frozen in place.’ ” “That’s because it was made from Tender Oak wood that contracts rapidly when heated.” I applied heat with my other hand above.
The box clicked open.
“Damn it, Rujen.” Eruviel resignedly said. “You had me completely fooled.”
“What did you do?” I asked. Rujen just smiled widely.
“He convinced me instead of doing the usual lockpicking, sneaking , and convincing marathon we should do different. The box, because no one here ever read it.” He glared at me. “But he forgot to mention you, I suppose.”
“Tricks are our trade, Master Eru. Besides, you were the one who finally decided on the box.” Rujen said.
“Yeah, yeah. I should have known better. Tell me truthfully now, would you have won if it was the usual?” He asked me.
Truthfully told, I didn’t know. Rogues was the area I was a little behind other than the others. Not because I didn’t like it, it was because I never tried to learn it properly. It was the only contest I had never participated before, too. Looking at it from all sides, this would have been the toughest area for me. I probably would have lost.
“Of course, sir.” I replied. “I would have won.”
“You lied. Good. Perhaps there is a little bit of rogue in you after all.” Eruviel handed me the box. “Your reward is inside.”
I glanced inside to see a pouch. Picking it up, I could hear the coins jangling inside.
“Rogues live only for that, kid. This one has hundred.”
A hundred gold coins. All the money that I have earned in my life till now couldn’t even match up to ten gold coins.
“But it empties out quickly too, so I suggest you spend it wisely. Preferably by treating your friend here.” He slapped on Rujen’s back. “He’s the reason why you won.”
Eruviel then walked away.
“If you have to know, I didn’t do it for you. I just wanted something new. I mean, it was the same thing over and over again. And what did we test? Who can open the most locks in the fastest amount of time? Isn’t that blatantly bad?” Rujen started.
“You’re right.”
“I mean, a good rogue could have a bad day. Maybe he injured his hand. Maybe he forgot his lucky tumblers. Maybe he had worked too hard the night before. There are so many factors, and judging them on single test, is useless. That’s what I think. So I changed it into this one. Everybody who appreciates good literature could figure it out. Anyone who understood the difference in the grain of a wood could have done something. But nobody did.”
“You’re right again.”
“You know why? It’s because the description of rogues itself is generalized. Pick open locks, detect traps, help loot treasures. These stereotypes didn’t exist earlier. Rogues are supposed to be clever and resourceful, like you just did. What good is a rogue if he couldn’t even open a different type of trap? That’s why you completely deserved to win.”
“I see.”
We walked slowly together to the main center stage. The sun was just beginning to set, and my euphoria was starting to kick in. The night’s festivities would be held there, as well as the official announcements. Now we could finally party.
I had finally won all of them. I had won the Hero Cup.
Rujen interrupted me from my thoughts.
“You didn’t believe any of the explanations I just said, did you?”
“Right for third time.”
***
Now, the moment of victory didn’t go exactly as I hoped. The party was good, and I did stuff Rujen with food. We laughed, cried and even flirted with the girls. People were slowly starting to know about my victory, and we were the center of attention (Well, small center of attention. Turnip farmers attracted a larger crowd. I couldn’t beat Dickus, much less than Biggus Dickus) . Ricker Jr was still out cold, and there was a rumor floating around that he now had permanent brain damage. Happy times.
It’s a sad thing that I can’t imagine the moments as clearly as I want to. Only the few minutes before it starts is where my memory picks up again. And it did start nicely…
“Fuck you, you son of a bitch.” Mayor Ricker whispered in my ear.
“Back to you, old fartbag with retard son.” I whispered back.
Then we ended the pretentious hug and smiled back to the crowd. Mayor Ricker started again, mouthing words that filled my soul with joy.
“Unbelievably honest, kind, caring, and hard working, Nero is now an upstanding member of our community.”
Those lines must have been like a dagger in his heart.
“..... proud of him … treat him as my son… won the four …”
I don’t remember the words. It was like attaining enlightenment, or what I think attaining enlightenment should feel like. Lost in pure bliss. Even if a meteor dropped and killed the entire village, I wouldn’t have noticed.
He continued the beautiful speech for about ten minutes, going on and on about me, how I won, my life, and other made up stories.
At last the dreaded moment came.
“And now… I present the Hero Cup!” He shouted. Man was a good actor.
But as I accepted the cup, I could feel his reluctance in letting go. I pretended not to notice. The cup was a small thing, but a little heavy. Shaped oddly like bird with a bolt in his mouth. I put it away in my pocket.
Now for the absolute humiliation of the Mayor.
“And now, as decreed by Cedric Giant-Slayer himself, his first sword is awarded to the first prodigy who manages to clear all the hurdles in his path!
His might was strong, His aim was true, His will was unbreakable, and his feet were light…and Nero now will follow in his footsteps. Do you, Nero, accept this sword?”
Now this is the part where it gets unbelieveable. Most would scoff their heads and leave at this point, because what happens next was so… unexpected and cliched at the same time.
I myself believe Destiny was having a laugh at my expense. No one else has such a bad sense of humor.
Here’s what was supposed to happen -
“Do you, Nero, accept this sword?”
“I do not, Mayor.” The crowd gasps and falls silent. What’s wrong? What’s he doing?
“And I’ll gladly explain why.
My name is Nero.
Ever since I was old enough to read, I was fascinated with heroes. The idea of saving people, rescuing princesses, killing monsters, saying memorable one-liners… what’s not to like?
…
…
……………….After all, hard work never betrays.”
The people would stare at first, in awe of what they had heard. Then a single man would clap, then two, until the whole crowd was clapping and cheering me on.
Afterwards, of course, they would surely gossip and spread the news, like I was there, you know. The day that Nero ushered in a new age of hard working heroes. I was there.
And another would say Shut up, old man! You’re drunk!
But all that fantasizing isn’t good. Here’s what actually happened.
“Do you, Nero, accept this sword?”
Someone screamed in the distance. One scream could be ignored, but then more could be heard. We all turned to look. A house was burning. No, two or three were burning down. What was happening?
One panting man came running down from the distance, slowly stopping in front of the small crowd.
“Goblins! Goblins are attacking!!”
He shouted and fell down, three arrows sticking out of his back.
The people stared in horror at first, in shock of what they had seen. Then a single man screamed, then two, until the whole crowd was screaming and shouting in the mayhem.
Afterwards, of course, they would surely gossip and spread the news, like I was there, you know. The day that the village was attacked by the goblin horde. I was there.
And another would say Shut up, old man! You’re drunk!
But let’s shift our focus back.
Lets just focus on the present.
Let’s focus on the second when the body touched the ground.
For me, that first second became eternity.
Minutes seemed to pass by as their eyes turned wide, the mouths grotesquely opening, the fear and panic spreading like ripples… as people turned to scream and run.
But some didn’t.
Rujen’s face changed into happy to annoyed to finally understanding. But no fear came. Instead it changed into determination. He was going to fight.
Few faces mirrored his expressions - my father, Tamaran, Deckre, Angelina, Fauirs, Eruviel… they all were going to fight.
I saw them all within the first second, standing upon the small stage. Time had enclosed me in a bubble, and within it, I saw it all.
Then the next second came, and the bubble burst.
I turned to see the Mayor petrified. His hands loosened, the sword fell-
And I grabbed it and leapt of the stage.
I rushed over to father pushing away the rush of people, “Dad -what’s happe-”
The next second I was knocked over and was falling face down in the ground. Someone pulled me and I saw Rujen,
“Come on! We need to-” Screams erupted and I could see one of the nasty critters coming up right in front of me -
“Duck!” Rujen did, and my sword slashed through the belly of the jumping goblin.
Dad rushed towards me, together with Tamaran. “Nero, help the villagers escape. We will hold them down.”
I nodded, but before I could say anything, he pushed me and Rujen backwards.
A huge wall of earth then erupted in front of us. Fauirs’ handiwork.
“Come on, let’s go!” I said to Rujen and set off.
***
Now that I think, my memories of the rescue are also pretty sketchy. I remember Rujen and I scrambling around, killing the goblins wherever we could. But I know that had we been prepared, we could have dealt with this a lot better.
Sometimes we were too late, and watched the goblins dance over the corpses.
Then sometimes we were just late, and watched the killing blow. Those were the worst.
Only a few times that night did we actually manage to do some good.
But we did kill a lot of goblins that night. So much that the details all blur in a gory frenzy of blood and death. And always there would be more goblins. It never seemed to end.
Of that blood-soaked night, only few memories remain.
***
Casting fireballs was easy for me. And roasting goblins soon become my favourite past time.
But they were adapting, hiding behind covers, popping out only when I stopped.
Soon, one of them would finally get past the makeshift earth barrier that I had erected, and then we were doomed.
“ARE YOU DONE YET?” I screamed.
“One … “ The merchant emerged from his house, loaded with a heavy backpack. It was bursting out at the seams.
“YOU CAN’T TAKE THAT, FOOL!”
“THIS IS MY ENTIRE LIFE, I AM NOT LETTING IT GO!” He tried to run with it, but couldn’t barely walk.
“LEAVE THE JUNK!” Rujen screamed at him.
“NO!”
“LEAVE IT!”
I decided to cut it short. With a single flick, I sent a fireball, burning the backpack down.
“YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU ASSSSHOOOOOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
He then ran, possibly trying to strangle me. We will never know, cause he fell down and started sobbing.
“GET UP AND RUN!!!”
“NO!!!”
“SAVE YOUR LIFE!!!”
“I AM NOT LEAVING!!!”
The goblin numbers surged. I did my poison fire stream trick again, but this time couldn’t maintain it for long. It used up mana too fast, and I needed to conserve.
“WE WILL LEAVE YOU HERE!!!” Rujen screamed. “YOU'LL DIE!!!”
“Rujen! I can’t hold out much longer!!!”
“COME ON OLD MAN!! WALK!!!”
“I AM NOT LEAVING!!!!!”
“RUJEN!!” I screamed. My spell nearly failed, and the goblins were upon me.
Rujen came in quick, his sword severing the goblins head. But they were too many of them.
I used another spell, which I had made up on the spot. The poison fire bomb. It exploded right where I wanted it, scattering the goblins, their blood and limbs splashing on our faces.
The merchant only wailed louder. The goblins were re-organizing themselves, undeterred by my attack. Rujen and I prepared ourselves again.
Imagine it.
A red background of blazing flames everywhere. A fat lard of merchant crying his heart out. A burning bag, which gave off a smell of apples and berries. Two desperate boys with weapons in their hands, each at his limit. A gaggle of goblins, cackling madly, their laughter a mad contrast to the merchant’s wail.
It was so surreal, so bizarre, yet so fitting. All our lives turned upside down and smashed into pieces.
That moment is when I realized the absurdity and hopelessness of our situation. We couldn’t fight. We couldn’t win.
In the end, we had to run away.
But we left the merchant behind.
We watched him die because he decided to cry over the bag.
Watched him torn apart by goblins.
***
“Please, take my child and go! Save his life!” The mother begged us. She had sprained her ankle, and couldn’t walk anymore. Rujen was the one guarding the door. The cackling goblins were now affecting my focus.
We-
***
You know what? Let’s skip this. The depressing stuff isn’t good for the health.
For those people who want this tale, it’s similar to all the village raided by monster stories, you have heard - the hero would arrive in the morning, find everyone dead, promise vengeance, and deliver.
Yeah, it’s similar to that. Only no heroes.
Or if you don’t like such tales, then you can imagine it yourselves. Imagine that Rujen and I kicked ass, saved people and delivered badass one-liners.
Imagine what you will of the hellish night. Write it freely however you want.
It won’t make a difference.
***
“NERO!! NERO!!! NERO, STOP!!” Rujen grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around.
His eyes were bloodshot. Wounds covered his whole face, his body and everywhere else. I imagine I looked the same.
“Nero, we can’t fight anymore.” He said, nearly falling into my arms. “I can’t fight anymore.”
Seeing him like that brought my tiredness to the surface. The two of us tumbled onto the ground, unable to stand for a moment longer.
We panted there for a while, catching our breath.
“What’s your condition?” He asked me.
“Feel bad. Mana low. Kill:142.” I said, gasping.
“Heh, you were counting?” He said.
“It will good when I join the Guild.” I said, managing to sit up.
We breathed quietly for a while, thinking about the future.
“You know,-” Rujen began.
A huge pillar of light shot up in the distance. The blue beam seemed to pierce the skies itself, illuminating everything.
“What was that?”
“Fauirs probably had a light core, used it call for help.”
I didn’t explain further. The fact that Fauirs had called for help meant this was hopeless. The rest most probably were…
“Should we go?” He asked me.
I debated telling him the truth. That this was over and we had nothing left there. Then I remembered what a hero would do.
“Let’s race.”
As we ran along the streets, I started the talk. “Rujen, if I don’t su-”
“Hold it right there, bro. That’s a death flag. You should stay positive.”
“Well, if I do survive, we’ll have an orgy.”
“YEAH! Now let’s do it!”
We rounded around the corner, and reached back again at the center stage.
***
I told you that destiny betrays in two ways - By refusing our wishes and fulfilling them.
All my life I had wanted to be a hero. Someone who could save people.
But they were dead.
***
All of them.
My dad, Tamaran, Angelina, Deckre, Eruviel, Rickers… all of them.
A figure in black stood holding Fauirs lifeless body in his hands. “Where is it? WHERE’S THE CORE?” He shook him like a ragdoll.
I rushed in from behind, intent on killing the guy.
He didn’t even turn around, but lazily flicked his hand. A huge fireball erupted from it, aimed directly at me.
Unavoidable.
***
You know what happens next.
The hero’s friend jumps in to take the blow.
In stories, it made sense. Everything revolves around the hero.
Now I know better. The stories are always about the hero’s friend. It’s the heroes who jump in to take the blow.
***
Rujen pushed me out of the way.
The force of the blow sent me skidding sideways over the blood and dirt. I fell hard, the breath knocked from the lungs. My right arm was completely burned, as was the right leg. I couldn’t move anymore.
The dark mage leisurely moved towards me.
I tried to move, but couldn’t. Pathetic. Something hard cracked against my pocket. I took it out with my left hand.
The Hero cup. Broken. How appropriate.
I let the cup drop away, finally shattering it. It revealed a small stone inside.
I picked it up.
And destiny intervened.
***
I myself don’t remember what happened next.
I woke up next morning, atop a small hill of burning caracasses of goblins. It was a pile easily over ten feet tall.
In my right hand was a charred collar of a nearly burnt out robe remained.
The one the mage had worn last night. Now a grinning skeleton did.
I looked around, and found nothing. Nothing but blackened earth for miles and miles.
I slid down on the corpses, trying to remember what happened.
Flashes of lightning and fire filled my vision. I… had done this. The mage, the goblins… all of them.
And before I had scorched the flesh off the mage, he had named me.
Thunderstorm.