The morning sun cast its golden glow across the verdant landscape as Hades, now disguised as a mere human, stood beside an elderly woman preparing for their journey. The carriage, laden with fresh vegetables, awaited them. The elder woman tightened her grip on the reins of the horses, and Hades mounted the back of the carriage, ready for the expedition.
As the wheels creaked into motion, the elder woman, curious about her enigmatic companion, initiated a conversation. "You're new around here, aren't you? What's your background, lad?"
Hades, maintaining the facade of a humble adventurer, responded with a nonchalant smile. "Just a regular man, ma'am, trying to make a living in this vast world."
The elder woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the vague answer. "Being an adventurer sure is a tough life. Meeting the needs of different folks, battling monsters, protecting others, and leaving your family behind."
Hades merely nodded in agreement, not revealing the intricacies of his true nature. The elder woman, seemingly lost in her thoughts, began to share a long and winding tale about her grandchild. The vivaciousness of her storytelling painted a vivid picture of a lively and caring grandchild—playful, yet respectful.
As the elder woman continued to narrate the tales of her grandchild's endearing qualities, her face gradually darkened. The lively atmosphere shifted into a somber one. Hades, unmoved by the emotions woven into the narrative, remained stoic.
"And then, my grandchild fell ill," the elder woman disclosed, her voice heavy with concern. "I don't know anyone who can help. Times have been hard, and I fear for her."
Hades, maintaining his impassive demeanor, listened silently. The elder woman's plea for help echoed in the air, but Hades offered no reassurance or comfort. He understood the fragility of mortal lives but remained detached from the emotions that governed them.
As the journey continued, the wheels of the carriage rolled along the path, carrying with them the weight of the elder woman's worries. Hades, with an enigmatic aura veiled beneath his guise as a mere adventurer, contemplated the complexities of human existence. The tale of the grandchild's plight lingered in the air, a reminder of the fleeting nature of mortal struggles, inconsequential to the eternal sovereignty of the demon king...
The journey concluded as the carriage rolled into the village, and Hades, keenly attuned to the shifting auras around him, disembarked with a sense of purpose. The elder woman, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension, guided the horses to a stop.
Taking charge of his duty, Hades swiftly unloaded the bountiful supply of vegetables, transporting them to the stockroom of the elder's humble abode. The air in the village carried a mixture of mundane routines and unspoken burdens.
With the task completed, Hades found himself engaged in a conversation with the elder woman, his piercing gaze studying the surroundings as he probed, "What happened to your grandchild? Why is the village afflicted by such an eerie aura?"
The elder woman, her eyes clouded with uncertainty, responded with a heavy sigh, "I don't rightly know, lad. The village has been plagued by this malaise, and we've lost many to its clutches. The healer from the capital couldn't fathom the cause."
As they delved into the details of the mysterious ailment, Hades remained composed, extracting the information he needed. The elder woman's narrative painted a grim picture of the village's plight, with the cause of the sickness eluding both common understanding and expert insight.
The conversation continued, weaving threads of uncertainty and desperation. In due time, the elder woman, appreciative of Hades' assistance, handed him a modest fee for his services. Hades accepted the payment without a flicker of emotion, his inscrutable facade intact.
As the elder woman turned away, a subtle change crossed Hades' countenance. Witnessing the stoic figure of the woman, her back hunched with the weight of unspoken sorrow, a peculiar sensation resonated within Hades. It was as if a dormant ember of empathy flickered within him, an echo of a distant humanity he once knew.
The elder woman's silhouette, outlined against the fading sunlight, seemed to hold onto the slimmest thread of hope, her shoulders betraying the weight of silent tears. In that fleeting moment, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within Hades—a resonance with the struggles of mortal existence, an echo of his own mother's silent tribulations during his bedridden days.
As the elder woman retreated into the depths of her home, Hades stood amidst the village, a silent observer of the fragile tapestry of human life. The enigma of the ailment persisted, but a subtle shift had occurred within the demon king—an acknowledgment of the intricacies and hardships woven into the fabric of mortality.
Hades, having received his payment, roamed the village streets with an air of detachment, observing the soldiers adorned with the kingdom's emblem as they rested amidst the hushed whispers of the afflicted village. His crimson eyes caught sight of a tent, a makeshift infirmary where the ill were attended to.
As he approached, three figures emerged from the tent, engaged in a conversation that stirred Hades' curiosity. Attempting to eavesdrop, his demonic senses struggled with the subtleties of human conversation. Fragments reached him—the scholar's weariness, the slow progress, and the ominous prospect of failure leading to the demise of 87 infected individuals.
Though devoid of sympathy or personal investment in mortal affairs, an unfamiliar sense of obligation tugged at the edges of Hades' consciousness. The unspoken debt owed to the elder woman, who unknowingly kindled a flicker of humanity within him, guided his decision.
Seeking a vantage point, Hades settled by the village fountain, a silent observer in the midst of human strife. He waited patiently, knowing the elder woman would come to check on her ailing grandchild. In the shadows, concealed from the villagers' notice, he contemplated his unusual inclination to intervene.
As the evening shadows deepened, the elder woman approached, her steps heavy with concern. Unseen by mortal eyes, Hades observed from the shadows, deciding silently that he would extend his assistance solely to the grandchild. The fate of the other afflicted villagers held no sway over his indifference.
The elder woman, unaware of the looming presence in the shadows, approached the tent with a heavy heart. Hades, a silent arbiter in the face of mortal tribulations, prepared to carry out a favor forged from the unexpected stirrings within him. In the realm of shadows, the demon king, indifferent to the plight of most, found himself compelled by an indebted sense of obligation to the one who unknowingly touched the dormant ember of his forgotten humanity...
Inside the tent, the stench of decay and the grotesque sight of the rotting child greeted Hades with an indifference that belied mortal sensibilities. The old woman, adorned with a mask to shield herself from the contagious malady, sat beside her grandchild—a small, frail figure consumed by the ravages of the mysterious disease.
Hades, unfazed by the morbid spectacle, bided his time, waiting for the elder woman to depart. As he loitered in the shadows, the old woman engaged in a one-sided conversation with the unconscious child, her words weaving a tale of the day's encounters and the journey with the adventurer. A quiet, lonely cry punctuated her monologue, a manifestation of the solitude that engulfed her.
When the elder woman finally left the tent, Hades approached the ailing child. Without a hint of sentiment, he examined the frail form, checking for the feeble signs of life that clung tenaciously to the rotted vessel. The child, unresponsive to the tales shared in the desolate conversation, lay still, a mere vessel succumbing to the relentless march of decay.
Summoning a familiar adept in tier 7 healing magic, Hades, with clinical precision, addressed the insidious disease afflicting the child. The magical energies danced around the small, lifeless form, eradicating the arcane malady with an efficiency that betrayed no emotion. The child's desolate state offered no respite, no flicker of gratitude or acknowledgement.
As the healing magic completed its task, Hades, devoid of sentiment or connection, dismissed the familiar. With a final, impassive glance at the now-stabilized child, he exited the tent, leaving behind the silent canvas of human suffering.
The night persisted, shadows cloaking Hades' retreating form as he merged once more into the obscurity of the village. The indomitable demon king, indifferent to the emotional currents that ebbed and flowed in the human realm, moved through the darkness, a silent observer untouched by the transient struggles of mortality.
After leaving the village unnoticed, Hades soared through the darkened sky of the evening, his form a mere silhouette against the tapestry of the night. The castle awaited him, a distant stronghold enveloped in the shadows of his dominion. The moon cast an ethereal glow as the demon king traversed the heavens, his thoughts cloaked in the enigmatic shroud of his own eternity.
On the following day, the village stirred with a collective gasp as the child, presumed to be lying in her bed of affliction, emerged from her tent. The villagers, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, stood frozen in a tableau of shock. The child, seemingly untouched by the disease that once plagued her, inquired about her grandmother, her voice carrying an otherworldly clarity.
Chaos ensued as the villagers grappled with the inexplicable transformation before their eyes. Ilgus, the royal knight charged with the protection of the kingdom, sprang into action. With determined strides, he approached the child, engaging her in conversation to ascertain the details of her miraculous recovery. The child's query about her guardian prompted Ilgus to issue orders to his soldiers, tasking them with the mission of identifying the one who held responsibility for the seemingly resurrected child. "Quick get her guardian!"
In a poignant moment, the old woman, seemingly unaware of the extraordinary events unfolding inside her tent, entered the scene. Her steps faltered as she encountered the unprecedented sight before her—the grandchild, once ailing and bedridden, now standing in the midst of bewildered villagers.
"Oh god."
A maelstrom of emotions engulfed the elderly woman as she struggled to comprehend the miracle transpiring before her eyes. Restlessness that had plagued her for the past month transformed into a profound sense of joy and relief. Overwhelmed, she sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the weight of hope cascaded upon her.
In the poignant reunion that followed, the child approached her grandmother, the two embracing in a heartfelt union that transcended the bounds of mortal affliction. Inside the tent, Ilgus, the royal knight, witnessed the transformative power of this inexplicable event. The village chief, observing from the periphery, felt a surge of hope rekindling in the face of what seemed like a divine intervention.
As the embrace subsided and the tears were wiped away, the child revealed a remarkable detail. Every story the old woman had shared during the days of her affliction had been heard, each narrative a lifeline that anchored her spirit.
The child attributed her recovery to a mysterious touch the night before—a cold hand on her wrist followed by a warm sensation that heralded the healing of all her ailments.
"And this and when i woke up, I feel just fine."
The revelation hung in the air, an enigma that defied mortal comprehension. In the heart of the village, a palpable sense of wonder and gratitude permeated the atmosphere. The child, now a living testament to the inexplicable, stood as a symbol of hope amid the shadows that once shrouded her existence. And in the wake of this extraordinary event, Hades, the unseen orchestrator of fate, lingered in the shadows, his eternal gaze indifferent to the transient marvels that unfolded in the mortal realm.