Hero, Jake Carter's Perspective
The path ahead curved through wind-bent grass and sun-warmed stone. The afternoon air buzzed with the hum of cicadas, a constant companion since they left Rhaken's Reach. My boots scuffed over dry dirt as I walked in front of the girls—half-listening, half-daydreaming about—
Ysira was talking. Again.
"...Oh. The structure's naturally stable in hexagonal arrays, especially if light's being refracted inward."
Alliyana nodded once. "That's why she uses hexagons. It's the closest regular shape to a circle that still tessellates without gaps. Efficient coverage. Clean mana distribution."
I blinked.
Yeah, okay. I was summoned to be a hero, not to be reminded of high school geometry. I thought I'd be summoned in a world of magic with stat points and mana gauge like in isekai animes, but this world is too realistic.
Alexa chimed in next—something about angle strength and barrier layering. The words flew over my head, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. The way Ysira leaned in, the way Alexa gestured with her fingers, even Alliyana's usual calm was tinged with something... alive.
I kept waiting for them to run out of steam.
Eventually, they did. The conversation tapered off. A pause. Finally.
Time to jump in.
I cleared my throat and turned back slightly. "Hey. Did you know everything's made of atoms?"
They all looked up.
Alliyana gave a small nod. So did Alexa, Ethan, and Ban. Celestine didn't even glance back—just kept walking, eyes ahead, the edge of her cloak brushing wildflowers on the trail's edge.
Ysira tilted her head. "Atoms?"
Finally.
Alliyana, of course, stepped in before I could explain. "Don't worry. It's not common knowledge here."
She slowed her pace a little so Ysira could walk beside her. "Everything you see—your hair, the ground, even the wind—is made of tiny pieces. Like building blocks. And those blocks are called atoms."
Her voice was quiet, but it carried. Calm and clear.
She held her hands up, thumbs and fingers forming a small space in the air. "The air around us isn't just empty. It's made of different parts—oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide."
She paused, then slowly dragged her hands apart as if sifting something invisible. "I'm separating the nitrogen and carbon dioxide… keeping just the oxygen."
Then she snapped her fingers.
A flicker of flame sparked to life—bright orange and gone in an instant.
Ysira stepped back, eyes wide.
"That's how Flicker works," Alliyana said, lowering her hand. "I'm not much of a mage, so it's not very showy. But the spell's just combustion. You feed it essence—oxygen—and it burns."
Silence again.
I couldn't think of anything else to say. That was my one science fact. I didn't even take chemistry. Just whatever they forced us through in sophomore year.
My face felt hot.
But Ysira smiled and turned toward me. "I'm surprised you knew that, actually."
It wasn't much. But it helped. I kept walking, pretending not to smile.
The road sloped upward into a narrow ridge trail, the kind that made your calves ache and your thoughts go quiet. Dust clung to my boots. The sky above was deep navy, scattered with stars, but the real light came from below.
We crested the ridge—and there it was.
Bedra County.
The whole valley spread out beneath us, alive with motion. Lanterns hung from stone towers. Fires glowed behind windows. Tiny silhouettes moved through narrow streets like ants with purpose. It wasn't just a village. It was a city. People lived here. Laughed here. Fought here.
It was our second time passing through. But something about it hit different tonight. Maybe it was how high up we were. Maybe it was how tired I was.
I exhaled, letting my shoulders relax. We'd finally arrived.
Behind me, Ysira stumbled slightly and muttered a curse under her breath. Celestine looked pale. Her steps were stiff and too quiet, like each one took more effort than she'd admit.
But Alliyana…
She stood near the ledge, a little ahead of the rest of us, eyes fixed on the view like she'd forgotten we existed. Her posture didn't sag. Her breath didn't hitch. If anything, she looked even more awake. The wind tugged at her black jacket, the hem shifting like smoke around her legs.
Alexa stood nearby, arms crossed, gaze scanning the lights below like a bodyguard on watch. Ban was sipping from his waterskin. Ethan just yawned.
I stepped up beside Alliyana. "First time seeing Bedra?"
She didn't look at me, but her voice was clear. "Second."
There was a pause—like she wasn't sure whether to go on. Then she added, "The first time wasn't exactly memorable."
I didn't ask. Something in her tone made it feel like a door had closed right after she said it.
She turned around a moment later, facing all of us. "Come on," she said. "I want to see the city."
It wasn't a command, exactly. But it didn't feel optional either.
I watched her descend the path with a lightness that didn't match the woman I saw last night. The one who snapped a man's arm without hesitation.
For a moment, watching her walk ahead—eyes wide, almost curious—I forgot about that part of her.
Almost.
The eastern gate of Bedra loomed ahead—tall, aged stone lined with torches, casting flickering gold across the faces of the guards and travelers funneling in. The air had that worn warmth of a city that never really slept. From beyond the walls, I could already hear the buzz of voices—laughter, cheering, someone shouting prices over the clatter of hooves and cartwheels.
We passed beneath the arch, boots echoing against cobblestones still holding the day's heat.
The city was alive.
Lanterns swung overhead on taut ropes, swaying slightly in the breeze. Paper banners fluttered from the second floors of shops and inns, some half-torn, some painted with symbols I still didn't recognize. Somewhere, music played—a reed flute, maybe, and a beat tapped out on a drum or the side of a barrel.
We walked as a group, but Alliyana drifted ahead.
She didn't say anything. Just moved through the streets with a strange calm, eyes roaming across the stalls and vendors like she was trying to take in every detail. The scent of grilled meat and fried herbs hung thick in the air. Steam wafted from a cart boiling dumplings in a wooden vat.
The vendors noticed her immediately.
A few straightened their backs. One called out a cheerful greeting. Another offered her a skewer for free, which she accepted with a small nod.
Can't blame them.
A woman like that doesn't walk through Bedra every day.
The guards may have been intimidating—Ban especially—but it didn't matter. Alliyana's presence cut through everything. That tailored black coat, that quiet poise… it made the crowd part before her like she was royalty, though she never said a word.
The only one in this region who even came close to that kind of attention was Princess Teria Goldwyn—and she was all the way in the capital, wrapped in silk and protocol.
Here? Alliyana walked in boots and smoke, and the world still bent toward her.
I kept watching her from behind, and I couldn't stop thinking how strange this place still felt.
Horse-drawn carts beside metal tools. Crystal lamps line the streets. Hell, even cafes.
It was like someone sprinkled modernity into the middle ages and didn't bother sorting the pieces.
The closer we got to the Auresta, the more jarring it became. I hear Zepharim had electricity. Hospitals. Libraries with real plumbing and glowing bulbs powered by some divine relic.
Heroes did this.
Even Bedra carried the fingerprints of people like me.
And I couldn't help but wonder...
What mark would I leave behind?
What would they say about me when I was gone?
We kept walking through the lantern-lit streets, boots thudding over stone. The night air was getting cooler, the kind that sticks to your skin and reminds you you're not in some dream.
"Where are we even going?" I asked, adjusting the straps on my pack. "The inn's just around the corner."
Ethan glanced over. "We're headed to the Harya Hotel."
I stopped walking for half a step. "Wait—the Harya Hotel? Like... the actual one?"
Even Ysira looked up at that.
Celestine turned sharply.
"The one with the marble floors and water mirrors?" she asked.
Ethan nodded, totally casual. "Yeah. That one."
Ban whistled.
The Harya Hotel.
Everyone's heard of it. High-end, centuries old, said to have been founded by a Hindi hero nearly 400 years ago. It was the kind of place nobles stayed when they didn't feel like being noble in their own mansions. Even in a medieval world of swords and magic, the Harya stood out—like a luxury spaceship crash-landed into a castle.
"No way," I muttered. "We're not made of coin."
"Relax," Alexa said from behind, "we're not paying."
Alliyana turned to face us mid-stride. "You're all invited. I'll cover it."
I hesitated—but Ysira elbowed me. Celestine gave me a pointed look.
Fine. I swallowed my pride. "Alright. Thanks."
When we reached the hotel, it hit different.
We'd passed by before, sure—looked at the gold trim, the stone pillars, the shimmering curtain of gold near the entrance. But now we were inside.
The walls were smooth white marble laced with golden veins. A faint scent of incense floated in the air—jasmine and something sharper. Gentle harp music drifted through unseen speakers.
It was the kind of place that made you feel underdressed just by standing still.
We walked toward the front desk. I tried not to stare too long at the chandelier overhead—it looked like falling stars caught in glass.
Then two men stepped out from a hallway, dressed in long black coats—different cut, different insignia.
One of them gestured toward Ethan.
He peeled off from the group without hesitation, following them to a quieter corner.
I'd seen their type before.
The coats. The silence. The way they moved like they didn't owe the world anything.
The Church said they were suspicious, maybe even dangerous. They didn't say why. Just that we should avoid them.
But here they were, chatting with Ethan like it was routine.
I kept watching until Alliyana stepped up to the counter and pulled something out of her satchel.
Celestine leaned in and tapped my arm. "Hey. Did you see what she just handed over?"
"No?"
She gave me a look like I'd missed a miracle. "That was a Trade Guild Elite Member Card."
"Okay?"
"She's rich. RICH rich."
I blinked.
Nearby, Ban whispered something to Alexa. I caught her reply.
"My friend that works for the Trade Guild said something about a medicine business with the Duke," she said. "Or something like that. I knew she had something to do with it."
Alliyana returned with calm steps. "We're staying in the penthouse."
I choked on nothing.
Ysira and Celestine both froze.
Alliyana smiled faintly and held out another keycard. "This is for you three. The sub-penthouse."
I took it. No words came out.
She didn't wait for a thank you—just turned and walked back toward her group.
I turned to Celestine, still dazed. "You still suspicious of her?"
Celestine pouted, cheeks puffing. "I didn't say I didn't like luxury…"
Ethan rejoined us, flanked by Alexa and Ban. The air around them had changed—quiet, heavy. No one said anything.
I could tell something happened. But whatever it was, it wasn't our business.
So I followed Ysira and Celestine to the elevator.
No buttons. No electricity.
Just a mage waiting patiently with gloved hands resting on a rune-carved lever.
The moment we stepped in, he murmured an incantation under his breath. A hum filled the space, and we began to rise.
"Imagine getting paid just to lift people all day," I muttered.
Celestine smirked. "Still better than fighting monsters."
The sub-penthouse opened into a spacious lounge glowing with warm yellow light. Velvet couches. High ceilings. A fruit bowl that looked more expensive than my gear.
Ysira and Celestine darted to the balcony before I could say anything.
I followed behind and leaned against the railing.
The view was… better than I expected.
The city below looked like a painting, all soft glow and blurred motion.
The streets were beginning to empty. It was starting to get late.
Wind brushed past my face. I looked up.
The stars here shone clearer than back home. No light pollution. No sirens. No skyscrapers. Just clean sky and a quiet too deep to describe.
Life didn't feel like this on Earth.
"Where's Alliyana going?" Ysira asked.
I blinked and looked down.
From the balcony, we could see the front courtyard.
Alliyana was walking briskly, flanked by her guards, following the men in black coats.
My stomach tensed.
Celestine was already half-seated on the couch, but Ysira grabbed her arm.
"Get your things."
"Wha—? Why?"
"We're following her," I said, grabbing my pack.
Something was happening.
And whatever it was, I had a feeling we weren't going to sleep anytime soon.
A few minutes later, we found them.
Alliyana's group stood just ahead, half-shrouded by the warped shadow of the cathedral's frame. The three men in black coats were gone. Only her and her guards remained.
We crouched behind a stack of old barrels reeking of mold and vinegar. My breath fogged against my sleeve as I tried to make sense of the scene.
Why the hell did they stop by the church?
"What's going on?" Celestine whispered.
"I'm just as lost as you are," I murmured.
Two priests stepped out from the church's arched doors—long robes, slow steps, the kind of solemnity they teach you in seminaries to make you look important. They seemed to be speaking to Alliyana, though I couldn't hear over the distant bell chimes and wind brushing loose cloth across the cobblestones.
Then a third man emerged.
Broad. Towering. His presence made the air feel heavier.
Celestine stiffened beside me. "Bishop Elric…? Why is he in Bedra?"
Elric. That name wasn't new to me—but seeing him in person was different. The bishop's face was sculpted like a statue's—chiseled and still. But the moment he spotted us, that face shifted.
He smiled.
Not at me.
At her.
Celestine.
Of course. The Saintess.
We moved forward. I didn't want things to escalate without us there. Maybe Celestine could calm whatever this was.
As we approached, Alliyana turned her head slightly. "I thought you went to sleep."
Celestine looked at me. Ysira did too.
"I—uh," I stumbled, heat crawling up my neck. "We were just… worried something might happen."
Alliyana didn't even acknowledge the answer. Her eyes stayed on Elric, lips curled into that same calm smile. The kind you wear before a dagger gets drawn.
She knew something.
Then it happened.
Bishop Elric's voice turned sharp.
"Kill the rest," he ordered. "Keep the Saintess alive. I'll have fun with her later."
What?
His body suddenly expanded—robes tearing at the seams as muscle rippled outward like boiling tar hardened in seconds. Veins bulged like cords. His aura shifted, pulsing with something foul.
I stepped in front of Celestine, sword drawn. "Stay behind me."
Elric's eyes slid to Alliyana.
"And you," he growled. "A fine, fuckable cut of meat."
Alliyana's smile didn't fade. She tilted her head and said, "Pop quiz."
She turned slightly, just enough for her voice to carry.
"Meet me at the Harya Hotel when you're done."
"What?!" I shouted, but before I could take a step, Elric was there.
A blur.
His hand clamped around Alliyana's throat. Her feet left the ground.
She didn't scream.
He leapt—an arc so high it blurred into the sky—and vanished beyond the rooftops.
Gone.
One of the priests chuckled. "Elric always did have a thing for blondes."
Rage surged through me. I took a step—
—and froze.
Laughter.
I turned.
Ethan. Ban. Alexa.
Laughing.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted. "She was just taken!"
The priest sneered. "What's so funny?"
Ethan's grin stretched unnaturally wide. "Offering my condolences."
The second priest stepped forward. "Enough games."
Strings extended from his fingertips—wet, red, pulsing. He snapped his hands together in a mock clap, sending a cone of slicing threads forward.
Alexa threw herself in front of Celestine and Ysira, a hexagonal barrier blooming around her.
Ban, Ethan, and I moved in unison, blades flashing to intercept the blood-wet threads.
The other priest shot into the air and slammed his open palm downward.
We scattered.
A shockwave hit, carving a massive crater into the cobblestones shaped like a palm, cracks spidering out in every direction.
"Gravity," Ethan said through clenched teeth. "That bastard controls gravity."
"I'll protect the backline," Alexa shouted. "Focus on the front!"
I stood still for half a second too long.
Why were priests attacking us?
"They're demons!" Ban roared, slapping the side of my arm. "Snap out of it!"
The palm demon hovered above us, eyes glowing like embers. Then Ysira stepped forward, flames gathering around her hands—each finger tracing sigils in the air.
"Flame Fusillade."
A barrage of fireballs surged upward, forcing the gravity demon to dodge mid-air, hurling erratic pulses of pressure to deflect them.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Ban rushed the string demon. Ethan's blade erupted in fire with every swing. Ban's strikes generated compressed wind blades that whistled as they tore through the air.
I joined them.
My holy sword hummed, resonating with each pulse of divinity. When my blade met the bloody strings, they sizzled—cut cleanly where neither fire nor wind had succeeded.
The string demon laughed, contorting around us like liquid, using his threads as both whips and armor.
We couldn't break through.
The sky cracked with explosions. Handprints—giant ones—blistered the pavement behind us. The only untouched area was within Alexa's defenses. Inside it, Ysira stood unfazed, casting again.
"Jake!" Ethan shouted. "It's up to you!"
I didn't need more words.
He and Ban surged forward again—full assault. I broke from their path and circled wide, flanking.
The demon turned—blocked Ban's strike, parried Ethan's—
I went low.
Three blades hit at once.
The demon's neck split. His head flew from his shoulders in a blur of dark blood.
I turned to the other battle.
Up in the sky—Alexa—floating, surrounded by the spiral flame of Ysira's magic. She leapt forward, her spear like a falling comet, and severed the second demon's head in one clean strike.
She landed gently.
On a glowing barrier.
My mouth went dry.
She was standing in mid-air.
Like it was nothing.
I stared. These three… they didn't just know how to fight demons.
They were trained for it.
Ethan patted me on the back. "Good job."
Ban said nothing—just tapped my shoulder.
I got what he meant.
Behind us, I heard Celestine's panicked voice.
"What were those things?"
Alexa exhaled. "High demons."
The streets were filling in. People opened their shutters, stepping outside. A woman screamed.
But then the screaming stopped.
And cheering started.
They understood.
For a moment… I stood still.
This was what it felt like.
To be a hero.
To be seen.
To be...
No. I snapped back.
"Alliyana!" I shouted. "We have to save her!"
But the three of them were already sheathing their weapons, calm as monks.
"Where are you going?!" I yelled.
Ethan stretched his arms behind his head. "You heard her."
"What?"
"Meet her back at the Harya Hotel when we're done."
I almost screamed.
But my blade was already heavy in my hand.
Reluctantly, I sheathed it.
"…Come on," I said, turning to Ysira and Celestine. "Let's go."
The hotel guard pulled the door open as we approached. His posture was perfect—chin slightly tilted down, one hand behind his back. Like the chaos outside hadn't touched this place. Like the city hadn't just been ripped open by demons.
We stepped in.
The scent hit first—jasmine and lavender, mellowed by something warmer, almost like cinnamon. Harp music drifted down from nowhere. The polished marble floor reflected our worn boots, dirt-speckled and blood-dried.
My fists were still clenched.
I couldn't shake it.
She was taken.
And we didn't chase her.
I kept playing it back. Her neck in his grip. That blur of motion. That impossible leap. I wanted to scream at Ethan, Ban, Alexa—for not reacting. For being okay with this.
Then Ysira tapped my arm and pointed ahead.
There, at the far end of the hotel lounge—beneath golden light and velvet-draped windows—was Alliyana.
Seated.
Sipping tea.
Behind her, two men in black coats from earlier.
She didn't look bruised. Didn't look rattled. Her posture was the same as always—relaxed, composed, unreadable.
She lifted her hand and waved.
Casual. Like she'd just spotted us at a garden party.
We crossed the lobby as a group—each step heavier with disbelief. The marble floor gave way to a soft crimson rug near the lounge area, muffling our footfalls. I could hear the tea cup clink softly as she set it down.
We gathered in front of her.
She looked at us, one by one.
Her eyes didn't linger. Didn't pause. But something about the way they moved felt deliberate. Measured. As if she were studying us—grading us silently.
Finally, she exhaled softly through her nose. A smile touched her lips.
"Everyone passed," she said.
I was relieved.
She was safe. Right there. Tea in hand. Not a bruise on her.
But still, something didn't sit right.
That calm—so perfect it almost felt… unnatural.
I glanced at Celestine beside me. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, shoulders tense. Her expression didn't show fear, but it didn't show peace either. The line between her brows said enough.
She felt it too.
We said our goodnights—polite, composed. Alliyana gave us a soft nod, still lounging like the center of some silent kingdom. Her guards didn't speak. Neither did the men in black coats.
We left first.
The walk to the sub-penthouse was quiet. Our boots whispered across carpeted halls, the lanterns above casting soft amber light. My chest still felt tight, like something was unfinished.
Ysira didn't last a minute.
The moment the door clicked shut, she kicked her shoes off, stumbled toward the nearest bed, and collapsed face-first into the sheets.
Didn't even change. Didn't even care.
Celestine stood near the window, staring out at the city lights.
Then she turned.
Her hand reached for my arm and gripped it—not hard, but firmly. Enough to tell me she'd been holding something in all night.
"She's the same girl," she said quietly. "From back then."
I blinked. "What?"
"I'm sure of it now," she continued. "When I was an apostle. Before any of this. Before I became the Saintess."
She paused, exhaled.
"We were among the chosen. Me. Her. A few others. Raised to serve Meliora. But something happened. The girl who was selected to become the Saintess lost her blessing. The Church sent her away."
I stared at her. "I thought you were the Saintess."
"I am," Celestine said. "Now. But back then? It was her. Alliyana."
That name—her name—landed like a dropped stone in my gut.
"The Goddess Meliora doesn't transfer blessings," she said. "Not normally. It's never happened. Until it did. And I inherited it."
She released my arm, stepped back.
"They never told us where she went. Most assumed she died. That she was cursed. But now I know."
I swallowed. My mouth was dry. "If that's true… then how would she have killed Bishop Elric? I didn't sense anything from her. No aura. No pressure. No divinity."
Celestine looked me dead in the eye.
"That's why I'm uneasy."
She crossed her arms slowly, her voice dropping just above a whisper.
"Because I didn't either."