Chương 7: Doing the Right Thing

POV: The Hero, Evelisse Ardentia The moment the Dark Lord and his underlings left, I felt my body unfreeze. The Mooncleaver stayed mid-air; it did not swing down. My stance remained intact. By logic, if I had truly intended the slash and the demon girl had used her spell to immobilize me right before I swung it, the motion should have continued the moment I unfroze. I should have swung, and the sword should have struck the soil. But it did not. Of course, I had hesitated. There had been no being-frozen mid-swing.

There had been no swing in the first place. It had been being-frozen-in-hesitation. Why did I hesitate? Before I could really think, I heard voices behind me. I turned back to face the villagers. Some were outside, having witnessed everything, while others were still inside the village hall.

"Everyone okay?" I asked, my voice not as loud as I wanted it to be. Most came forward and cheered. Some thanked me, some shook my hand, some simply shouted in glee.

"Thank you, Hero!"

"We would have died without you!"

"I thought it was the end for us… thank you!"

"You're my aspiration, I wish to be strong like you!" I responded with a smile, shook their hands, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the ones who weren't celebrating. A handful of villagers stood silent, glaring at me. A few leaned in to whisper to one another, brows furrowed. I could guess what they were saying.

"I saw her hesitating."

"She got frozen by the Dark Lord's underling?"

"The Dark Lord could have ended her, but he chose not to. He was toying with her."

"Did she really defeat the last Dark Lord? She does not seem strong enough." Normally, I would be okay with it. As the Hero, people expected a lot from me, and I always did my best to live up to it. I knew I couldn't be perfect. There will be times I fail. And when I do, I would stand back up and fight. This time, though, their whispers, their glares, their doubt; they stung more than usual. Because they were right. As I led the villagers back, they were devastated to see their houses destroyed.

Shops were gone, carts tumbled, houses became wooden rubbles and charred remains. An old man dropped to his knees in front of a blackened doorframe — the only piece of his house still standing. He reached out and touched the scorched wood with a trembling hand, then pulled it back as if it had burned him. He didn't cry. He just stared, his mouth working soundlessly. A young mother clutched her daughter to her chest, shielding the girl's face. The child kept trying to peek anyway.

When the mother finally let her look, the girl asked, in a small, confused voice, "Mama, where's our door?" The mother's face crumpled, and she pressed her lips into her daughter's hair so the girl wouldn't hear the sound she made. A few houses down, a man was tearing at a pile of rubble with his bare hands.

"It's here, it's here, I just need to—" His wife was trying to pull him back, begging him to stop, but he kept digging. His knuckles were bleeding. I didn't know what he was looking for. Someone else was just sitting in the middle of the road, staring at nothing. A baker, maybe; his apron was still dusted with flour. He didn't look up as people passed him. He didn't look up at anything. And then there were the ones who turned and looked at me. Not with anger. Not yet.

Just with a quiet, hollowed-out expression that asked the question none of them were saying out loud. I found myself turning away, too ashamed to look them in the eye. I could not do much to comfort them. Even if I did try to comfort them, it would be empty words. Strangely enough, there was one house intact. There were collateral damages from the destruction nearby; slight char, a few broken walls and shattered windows, but it remained mostly intact. It was the village chief's house.

Then the door opened, and I saw Mel helping the village chief walk out. I rushed over to her.

"Mel? What happened?" Before she could answer, the village chief stepped forward. He had thin shoulders that seemed to disappear beneath the folds of his woolen tunic. His hair was silver-white and pulled back from a deeply lined face, His hands trembled faintly at his sides, but his back was straight.

"Oh, Hero. It's good to see you again, despite the unfortunate circumstances."

"Chief Doran, I'm sorry I couldn't have gotten here sooner. I—" He gently tapped my shoulder.

"It's okay. You still saved us. You have always been saving us." I couldn't give him a response. I didn't know what to say. Chief Doran then walked forward and looked around. There were groups of people scattered through the ruins — some sifting through the remains of their former homes, some simply staring at the sky, some weeping into the arms of family. I saw his fist clench until the knuckles went white. The silence stretched between us.

I wanted to say something, anything, that could ease the weight on his shoulders. That this was not his fault. That his village would be rebuilt. That the people he had led for decades would find their footing again. But every word felt small against what was in front of us. I glanced at Mel. She was watching the villagers too, her staff lowered, her usual brightness dimmed to something quieter. Her eyes were glassy. She caught me looking and tried to give a small, reassuring smile, but it did not quite hold.

She looked away. No one spoke. Not me. Not Mel. Not even the chief, whose hand still rested on my shoulder as if he had forgotten it was there. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. There were times when silence was the only honest thing left. Then, slowly, Chief Doran drew in a long breath and lowered his hand.

"…We can grieve later," he said, his voice steadier than I expected.

"For now, we rebuild." He added, after a moment, "Though I have to say, it was strange. A demon-girl somehow snuck into my house, and before I could do anything, I was out cold. When I woke up, I was already tied to a chair." What?

"So, chief, you have been tied up in your house right until Mel broke you out?"

"Yes." Mel then added, "It was strange to see a single house amidst all the chaos, and when I peeked through the shattered window, I saw the village chief struggling on the chair." Then a man walked forward, "Chief, why were you in the house? You told us to go to the village hall since there was a horde of monsters. You said the village hall would be safe since the monsters were not high-level ones." Chief Doran looked confused.

"Hm? No, I did not issue such things at all. I had been unconscious all this time." That did not add up. How was it possible for the village chief to tell everyone to go to the village hall when he had been tied up inside his home? Did someone pose as the village chief? Or was it illusion magic? Either way, someone did it, and I did not know anyone else aside from the Dark Lord's underlings. It was most likely the demon girl. But why? I could not find the answer at the moment, and I should not think about this now.

Not when the village is in such a state.

"Chief, I don't think we can find an answer to the issue at hand now. I should head back and report this to the Church in Astrea. They should be able to provide assistance in food and resources to rebuild the village," I said. In the cases of mass-destruction due to monster attacks, with reliable reports, the Church can provide support by leveraging its ties with the kingdom to the affected area.

"You're right, Hero," Chief Doran said. Then he stepped forward, facing the confused villagers.

"Today has been rough. While we wait for additional support, the village hall shall be our home. I will contact nearby villages to assist us in providing short-term rations." Chief Doran offered for us to stay for the night in his house, but I refused. Not because of the shattered windows, but we had to move fast and report this back to the Church so the village could receive the support it direly needed. And I could not bear to stay there, ridden with guilt. So Mel and I went back to our horses.

It was almost evening, but there should still be enough time to get back before the day was over. I casted a spell that allowed us and the horses to have somewhat good sight at night.

"Is the boy okay?" I asked Mel, who was riding beside me.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just some bruises. I brought him to the entrance to meet his grandma, and she kept thanking me."

"Come to think of it, that was your first official save as a member of the Hero's party. How did you feel?"

"I dunno. It felt good, but… it wasn't the gratitude, exactly. Sure, it was nice to be appreciated, but I think it's more like—you did the right thing? So it felt great. Knowing you did something you were supposed to do, and it made a real impact." She paused, then laughed a little.

"Though I just pulled a boy out of some wooden rubble. It's not like I slayed a monster or anything." I didn't do any slaying either, Mel. At least you succeeded, while I— I didn't finish the thought.

"It still counts, Mel. You helped someone. You might have saved his life. All saves are equal."

"I know, Eve. More importantly, I felt like I was actually of help to you today. You're alive, and that's what matters. And I saw the Cerberus running away, too. Good job chasing it off the second time!" Good job chasing it off. There it was again. That hollow opening up somewhere beneath my ribs, the kind that praise only made wider. The undeserved praise. Mel didn't know that the Cerberus had simply retreated. That I had barely scratched it.

She didn't know that I had hesitated to strike the Dark Lord when I had the chance, t hat I had been frozen in place and ridiculed by him and the demon-girl, t hat I had been spared so that he could harvest fear out of the villagers, and out of me. She didn't know I had failed. I gave her a small smile and said nothing. And as if she sensed something, she didn't press any further. Throughout the ride back to the kingdom of Astrea, my head was empty; save for the occasional ringing of Mel's words. The right thing.

Had I done the right thing? It felt like I had done nothing right today. Ever since we'd set foot into Aniaros Forest, nothing had gone right at all. Then the images resurfaced. The Dark Lord standing between me and the Cerberus. The way my heart had quickened the first time I looked at him in the eye. The way he had said he was a carpenter. Why did he introduce himself as a carpenter? And his manner of speech had been different. In the forest, he had sounded… normal. Soft, even. Uncertain.

In Lunareth, he had sounded forced. Almost like he was reading lines off a page he hadn't quite memorized. Thoughts began to swirl, faster and faster. There were too many questions; about the Dark Lord, about the demon-girl, about myself. About what I had felt, and what I shouldn't have felt, and what I was supposed to do with any of it.

"Eve." Mel's voice cut through it. I looked at her. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't reaching for my hand or trying to coax anything out of me. She was just watching me, gently, the way you'd watch something you didn't want to startle.

"It's going to be all right," she said. I didn't know what kind of face I had been making to prompt that, but it didn't really matter. She was trying to make me feel better. And in that moment, I was glad I hadn't come alone.

"Yeah," I said. She turned her gaze forward again, and her voice came softer this time.

"Tell me when you're ready to." When. Like she already knew there was something, and she was willing to wait however long it took.

"Yeah," I whispered, much quieter. When we arrived at Astrea, it was almost midnight. Mel had insisted on following me. She relented only when I reminded her that the High Priest's chamber was not a place for company—only the Hero could meet with the High Priest without prior arrangement. The High Priest's chamber was exactly as I had left it weeks ago. The High Priest sat behind the oak table, hands folded, expression unchanged from the moment I walked in. I had never once seen him sleep.

Sometimes, I wondered if he ever did. I gave my report standing while the High Priest remained seated behind the oak table, his hands folded, his expression unchanged from when I had walked in. I reported most of the incident; The Cerberus, which I noted was unusual for a Dark Lord who had only just spawned. The Dark Lord himself, who appeared to have little power at present. The demon-girl. The destruction of Lunareth, the puzzling incident of the village chief, and the mercy of no casualties.

What I left out was that the Dark Lord had stood between me and certain death. That my sword had not come down when it should have. After the report, the High Priest leaned back, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then regained his posture.

"Thank you, Hero Evelisse, for your prompt report. The Church shall coordinate with the kingdom to arrange assistance for Lunareth. You should rest for the night." I bowed and thanked the High Priest, but as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me again.

"Oh, and there's no need to return to Aniaros Forest tomorrow." I turned back. He continued before I could ask.

"Since a Mythical-Class beast appears to be operating within the Dark Lord's domain alongside a powerful demon, we shall await Lord Luminaryn's revelation. This development has been inconsistent with our expectations." Lord Luminaryn. Lycora's protector. The only being we all worshipped. It was said that the High Priest was the only one who could commune with him directly.

"Understood," I said, bowing again.

"You may leave, Hero Evelisse." I walked out of the cathedral with my mind still tangled from all the things and feelings I needed to sort through. But for some reason, knowing I did not have to go back tomorrow, my chest felt slightly lighter.