The young maid, Samantha, stood frozen to the spot.
"C-Cobolts? I-In Able?!" she trembled.
"Stay there," Ceren told her as he ran out the door, leaving the merchant unconscious on the floor.
He bolted down the hall and ran down the stairs to street level.
Though he had been provided new clothes and a hotel suite, he hadn't been given a weapon. It should have been the first thing he had asked for, but he had been blind-sighted by the luxury.
Imbecile. In a world with monsters like the one he had fought, nobody in their right mind would walk around without a weapon.
"SCRAARG!"
Ceren halted and looked round at the high scream. He was standing in the plaza, a large fountain between himself and the guild building - the most likely place to find a weapon. And there, just beside the fountain, was a small monster.
It was maybe half his height and it had a snout. Like the orcus, it didn't have any weapons, but Ceren couldn't help but notice its many thin, sharp teeth and long claws. The cobolt opened its maw wide and let out another pitchy scream, as though to deafen him.
Ceren grimaced.
It was quite odd. His logic told him that the creature would tear him to pieces, but to his surprise, he found that he wasn't instinctively scared of the creature.
Maybe it just hadn't really sunk in that it was real?
Well, it most certainly was, and he most certainly wasn't going to fight it. Screw the weapon. He wasn't going to die just to protect a few people. Turning, he began to sprint away from the cobolt and the guild building, down an alleyway.
He grinned. Maybe, if he got really lucky, the cobolts would kill everybody in the town and nobody would ever even know he had been there.
But then--
"Hargh!"
*Thunk*
Ceren let out a rough grunt as his head hit the ground. He had been thrown back again. It felt like it had been even harder this time.
"KRRRRR"
A whirring growl sounded from behind him. The cobolt had followed him down the alley and was blocking the path back into the plaza. His head still aching, Ceren had begun getting to his feet when he spotted something.
Right beside where he had landed was a large, sharp rock, pointed exactly upwards. Had his head been just slightly to the right, the rock would have burrowed into his neck and he would have been paralyzed there, unable to do anything as the cobolt tore into him.
That couldn't be a coincidence. Whatever the invisible force was, it prevented him from fleeing. From running away.
And he could only think of one person who might be able to make something like it. That Phi woman. The so-called goddess.
The cobolt was almost upon him now, letting out that horrid sound like nails on a blackboard.
His face twisting into livid fury, Ceren let out a roar of anger. Did that bitch really think he, Ceren Pontifix, would die in an alleyway like this. No.
"GRAAAWR"
His roar reverberated around the alleyway and cobolt took an unwilling step back. Ceren's wild eyes locked onto the small creature.
Nobody was better than Ceren Pontifix. And no one ever would be.
*CRACK*
With a spurt of unnatural speed, Ceren barreled into the creature, smashing its head into the bricks. It let out a high-pitched squeal of pain, so Ceren raised up its head and cracked it into the ground - once, twice, thrice.
The monster had stopped moving, a viscous mix of liquid and brain matter covering the once-clean bricks. Ceren raised up its bashed-in head up to his own and stared into its deadened eyes.
"No one screams at me," he growled.
Then, with a smooth movement of his arm, he cast the creature's limp body aside and got back on his feet.
Fine.
If that woman wanted him to stay and fight, then that's exactly what she was going to get.
"SCRAARG"
"SKRAAAAA"
"WKRRAAA"
With loud ripping sound, followed by a spine-chilling crack, Ceren tore open yet another cobolt. It fell lifeless onto the ground, its splintered jaw landing in a pool of its own blood.
The adrenaline pounded in Cerens veins as he glared down at his handywork, victorious.
"Ma-Master... Ergo..?"
Ceren looked round. The fat little merchant had come to. Behind him stood the young maid from earlier. She seemed to be trembling.
"What?" he asked, irked by their gazes.
Why were they looking at him like that anyway? He had just saved their lives. Sure, he hadn't actually wanted to, but he *had* done it. They should be grateful.
"Y-Your... clothes..."
What about his clothes?
Confused and irritated at the merchant's vagueness, he trudged over to the water-filled basin in which the fountain stood. He looked down into the water.
Immediately, he realized why they looked upon him like that. They were looks of fear.
Blood dripped down from his matted hair, gathering in the cracked crevices of his face. His new clothes, fresh from that morning, were torn and bloodied. Something that looked suspiciously like brain matter covered his shoes, all the way up to his ankles.
Any who looked upon him now would surely agree on one thing.
That was not the look of a hero.