It had been weeks since Barion last felt any sort of comfort. With the horse he had taken from the wagon dead mere days after he departed from the summit, he became accustomed to sleeping on the bare plains of the northern Steppe, stealing warmth from poor fires using dry grass and clumps of dust as tinder. The wagon itself was far from an ideal place to sleep, but for him at that moment, it may as well have been a king's private chambers.
"Are you feeling better, Barion?" Fusala asked.
"Very much so." He scraped a flake of bread from his mouth, "You have no idea how dull it can get hunting for lizards on these plains."
"You have travelled a remarkable distance considering you were on foot for most of it." She replied, "I estimate that we are close to the western shoreline."
"It sounds like you've been doing some travelling of your own." He remarked, "Elder Gelda, huh…"
"You have heard of the name?"
"No. Not even once." Barion shook his head, "It's just surprising to hear that there are still people alive who can teach Senpo. They were considered rare 500 years ago."
"Pale appears to have a talent for it." Fusala let on, "I have had many opportunities to learn more about her in the time we have spent travelling together."
"From what I could glean, she's a kind-hearted person, but a bit simple."
"Hoh. I can hear you two quite easily from this distance, you know?" From the glowing flaps of the wagon's rear, a voice interjected, "Try not to hurt my feelings, now."
"Freezing temperatures are quite common during the nights on these plains, Pale." Fusala replied, "It would be better if you rested inside of the wagon. It is more energy-efficient."
"I wouldn't want to intrude." The Rabbitkin girl refused.
"That is not a problem."
"What I mean to say is that I'm trying to accommodate your relationship." Pale elaborated.
"I understood the subtext of your statement." She clarified, "However, Barion and I are unlikely to engage in sexual activities in the presence of a third party. It would be immodest."
"This is neither the time nor the place for things like that, anyway." Barion backed up.
"Okay! I'm coming in!" With a frustrated sigh, Pale hopped up to the lip of the wagon and crossed into the small space, "I was told humans were modest! Don't just speak about your nightly affairs so casually!"
"It was you who brought the matter up to begin with." Fusala countered, "Also, I am not a human."
"It gets easier to talk about when you've been around a lot." Barion spoke, "I suppose you wouldn't know a thing about that, though."
"I'm beginning to wonder if we should have left you for dead on these godless plains."
"While the subject is in circulation, I would like to propose a question to you, Barion." Fusala began, "I have been working under the assumption that you travelled here to destroy Crucibles. Is that correct?"
He nodded, "I've been delaying the Demons from marching north. Of course, I haven't been able to stop all of them, but the Steppe would've been overrun at this point if I hadn't."
"How do you destroy the Crucibles? The ones we discovered seem to have been torn apart."
"With my hands." He answered simply.
"That does not seem either reasonable or possible."
"Reasonable--certainly not. But possible--absolutely. The metal is tough, but anything gives if you apply enough force." Barion explained, "-Not that it's particularly enjoyable to me or anything like that. I've lost plenty of skin getting seared by the heat."
"Is it possible to explain your abnormal strength?"
"Well-" He paused, "...I'm the Hero, aren't I?"
"That is not a real explanation." She denied, "From the battle at the summit to your journey across these northern plains, I have gathered enough evidence to ascertain that you may very well be the strongest individual creature in the world. Despite this, you fight with neither weapons or strategy, and are capable of maintaining your strength even when critically exhausted. Put simply, by sheer measure of power, you cannot be called human."
"No--you don't understand." He began, "That's what I'm trying to say. I'm a Hero--not a human."
"You mean to imply that 'Heroes' are somehow separate from humans?"
"I'm not-" Barion paused, "What I mean to say is that…"
"Do you not know?"
"...No." He frowned, "I don't."
"Do not fear. I have also arrived at this conclusion. Despite your resemblance to a human, it is clear that other factors are at play." Fusala blinked, "...I do not mean to imply that you are unnatural."
"I know. But that's what I was trying to explain earlier." He continued, "I was destined to fight Demons from the day of my birth. I don't want people putting their lives on the line, feeling like they have to fight, when they'll just get themselves killed."
"Whether they die or not, some people can't pass up the opportunity to fight for what they believe in." Pale interrupted, "Whether it's a home, or a family--the idea of sitting back and letting someone else do the job for them just doesn't sit right in their hearts."
"That's…" Barion muttered, "I don't like that."
"It's just the way of the world. Nobody is perfect." She crossed her arms, "Although, I suppose seeing this all happen for a second time would hammer in just how little you really accomplished."
"It's all one huge cycle." He replied, "Demons appear, ravage the world, then the Hero appears to defeat the Demon King centuries later, which somehow brings it all to an end."
"Somehow…" Fusala repeated, "What happened to the Demons who were currently invading the world when you subdued the Demon King?"
"They just… disappeared." He answered without much confidence, "It wasn't like they died. More like… they retreated. Back into the holes, I suppose."
"Were you ever able to ascertain just where they originated from?"
"Underground. Dorma was the one who figured it out." Barion paused, "The holes… they let out this kind of invisible 'gas', or something like that. It makes you sick--so sick that your hair starts to fall out. Down there, beneath the earth… there must be something creating it."
He lowered his head, "Dorma… I wonder where she is right now."
"I predict that she will seek you out." Fusala replied, "As one of the few living descendants of that age, she understands the power of the Hero greater than most. It's likely that she thinks you will be essential to emerging victorious from this age."
"If I leave, the Steppe will be overrun. What good can I do anywhere else that I can't do here?"
"Do you not believe it is possible to emerge victorious from this conflict?"
"If I said 'no', would you believe me?"
"No."
"-Because I'm still alive, right?" He smirked, "As long as the Hero is still alive, the world stands a chance. That's how it's always been."
"I believe I understand the problem." She analysed, "You are reluctant to entertain the thought of victory because you believe the situation to be hopeless. You are the Hero, yet you lack the Sword of Light, and are therefore incapable of killing Demons permanently. Those you have slain on your way here will only rise again in the coming decades, and your efforts will have been for nothing."
"I already know what you're going to say." Barion's expression was flat, "We need to fight because that's just who we are, right? To ensure even the slightest chance of a bright future, we need to throw ourselves into the grinder and hope for the best."
"If we can halt the emergence of Demonkind at its core-"
"I already told you that's impossible." He interrupted, "They're beneath us--all of them, just waiting to crawl out. But whatever's down there can't be touched. It's pointless to even try."
"You are running away from the problem."
"I know." He admitted, "I just… can't find a reason to do it anymore. I've already fought and won this war once already. Why do I have to do it again?"
"You did not win." Fusala corrected, "You only halted the problem for another 500 years."
"Hah…" He went silent, "I know that. I already know all of this!"
"Fighting Demons pointlessly will accomplish nothing. You know from your own experiences that it only delays the inevitable." She continued, "But if we consolidate our knowledge with others, we may yet discover a solution to permanently ending the cycle of Demon Ages."
"...You're not going to give up on this, are you?"
"You will return with us to the mainland." Fusala demanded, "I will not allow you to lose hope. The Hero's duty is to strike back at darkness, not to run from it."
"Just give it up, Barion." Pale smirked, "Even if we have to seal you inside one of these barrels, you're coming with us one way or another."
"Pale… aren't you going to stay here? I thought you wanted revenge for your people?"
"I don't seek vengeance against just any old Demon." She declared, "-I won't be satisfied until I put down the source of this madness at its very core. And as much as I wouldn't like to admit it, a task like that would be a lot easier with an ally like you."
"You've lost your mind."
"I won't deny that." She brushed him off, "Now, it's time to get moving. We're headed straight south for the mountains. If you still feel like complaining about every little thing, then feel free to jump off this wagon and die like a dog. Otherwise, help me keep stock of how much food we've got left."
"This is my wagon, you know…"
"If you want to be a leader, then start acting like one."
"Hm." A small smile appeared on his face, "What a pain."