When was I first called a hero?
Perhaps it was when I emerged, bloodied and broken, as the lone survivor from the 100th Floor of the Berlin Tower—a battle that marked the first victory of humanity over the Towers' tyranny. The world cheered; they called me a hero.
But what does a hero truly do? Instill hope? Perhaps. Inspire strength? Maybe. Serve as a scapegoat when hope falters and shadows rise? Always.
I was a hero, yes, but a failed one. I had no intention of wearing that mantle again in this second life.
Evelyn was different—a creature forged not by choice but by the relentless cruelty of her world. She was molded to inherit the legacy of the Witch of Time, a figure whose very name conjured awe and dread in equal measure. Six centuries past, that witch had set the world ablaze, waging the Great War against the Divine Empire of Archus. It was a war not of ambition, but of necessity—a desperate bid to cleanse a corrupted religion steeped in tyranny and blood.
The Witch of Time's defiance alone did not shatter the empire's iron hold. No, four heroes had stood against the Divine Empire of Archus, their combined might and sacrifice forming the bulwark that staved off a world consumed by darkness.
There was Isolde, the Witch of Time, whose mastery of forbidden magic turned the tides of battles, weaving temporal rifts and bending reality to her will. Beside her fought Kael Hyperion, the Fist God, a warrior whose strength rivaled mountains, whose bare hands could shatter legions and whose spirit was unyielding as the sun.
In shadows moved Raven Eltharion, the Great Monarch of Assassins, a figure feared and unseen, striking with such precision that his enemies often died before their last breath could summon fear.
And then, there was Raphael Valerian, the Incarnation of Luminance, a hero whose very being glowed with the light of divinity. Once the champion of Archus, Raphael had turned his sword against the empire he once served. With each swing of his blade, radiant as the first dawn, he cleaved through the corruption of his own homeland, an act of betrayal that was spoken of in both whispers and reverent songs.
These were not merely heroes; they were legends, myth and truth intertwined in tales that had outlived them by centuries. And now, the witches of this age sought to revive that legacy, to carve another such force from the flesh and soul of an unwilling girl. Evelyn, shaped by torment and bound by duty, was meant to be the new witch to stand against empires, to reignite the flame of rebellion against oppression.
She didn't deserve to die for it. That was why I saved her.
Evelyn's eyes searched mine, her expression a fragile mixture of relief and uncertainty. "What should I do now?" she asked, her voice so soft it seemed to tremble in the air between us.
"What do you want to do?" I returned, the question weighted with possibility.
She pressed her lips together, as if tasting the unfamiliar idea of freedom. "I want to come with you."
The words struck me silent for a moment. Of all the things I expected, her choosing me wasn't one of them. I hadn't intended to share my path; with the rate of my growth, companions were always left trailing behind, fading into the past as I surged ahead. But Evelyn—Evelyn was different. A talent carved out of suffering, fierce and bright as a blade forged in fire. Traveling with her wouldn't just be worthwhile; it would mean facing the road ahead with someone who understood the weight of survival.
A flicker of something I hadn't felt in years kindled in my chest—anticipation.
"Alright," I said, a smile finding its way to my lips. "But first, we need to head back to the Grand Duchy of Silvaria."
She tilted her head, curiosity softening the steel in her gaze. "Why?"
"Because I promised my mother and sister I'd return once I reached Indigo stage," I replied, the memory warming my voice. It was a promise I intended to keep, this time without the shadow of regret hanging over it.
Evelyn's eyes held mine for a moment longer, a small, hesitant smile forming as if she, too, were daring to hope. The road before us was uncertain, but for the first time, it felt like a road worth taking.
'Did I do well this time?' The thought drifted up like a prayer as I gazed at the sky, the vast expanse above painted in hues of dawn. This time... had I succeeded, not just as a warrior, but as a human?
The village behind us was silent now, abandoned save for the echoes of its memories. Beside me, Evelyn stood, her expression solemn but touched with a new kind of resolve. I took a breath, shaking the weight from my chest, and spoke, "By the way, if you're coming with me, you'll need to get a license as well."
She nodded, the faintest hint of amusement crossing her features. It was a strange sight, seeing her begin to shake off the chains of what had been and start considering what could be.
As we walked, the shadows of the trees stretched out like fingers to guide us away from the past, their rustling whispers mingling with our steps. The silence settled, not heavy, but contemplative, until a question formed on my lips.
"What about your mother?" I asked, not glancing at her, but feeling the shift in her aura as the words struck.
Evelyn's stride faltered for just a heartbeat before she steadied herself. "We witches lived between Archus and Antalus, far from here," she said, her voice guarded, each word selected with care.
"Then why were you here?" The question lingered in the cool morning air, unanswered until she exhaled, a long, weary breath.
"My mother sent me," she admitted, eyes clouding as she absently touched her cheek, a gesture that spoke of old wounds and memories best left unspoken. "I don't know why. But it was her mirror spell that... twisted me, made me control the villagers and do all those things."
I looked at her then, watching as the guilt and shame flickered across her face like shadows. It was a burden she carried alone, but one that wasn't hers to bear.
"I know," I said, a gentle smile breaking through the seriousness in my expression. "And I'm not blaming you."
A moment passed, the forest listening as we stood on the cusp of something new. Finally, I reached out, gesturing forward. "Let's go home, Evelyn."
She glanced at me, surprise softening her features, and then nodded, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as we turned our backs to the haunted village and walked into the dawn.
The road back to the capital unfurled before us, dappled with the morning light filtering through the canopy. We walked at an easy pace, our conversation weaving from light-hearted banter to weightier topics and back again, as naturally as the wind whispered through the leaves. It was a rare kind of comfort, the ease of talking to someone who, despite everything, felt like a companion rather than a burden.
"I suppose I'll need to tell Mother about what happened with the Golden Dragon Knights," I said, the thought settling between us like a pebble dropped into still water.
Evelyn glanced at me, eyes warm despite the shadow of worry that crossed her face. "You can tell her everything, Lance. I trust you."
A smile tugged at my lips. "Oh, you trust me now, do you?"
She returned the smile, soft and genuine. "How could I not? You saved me."
The simplicity of her words carried a weight that settled deep in my chest, making me pause for a breath longer than usual before we continued. The capital's walls rose in the distance, tall and formidable, but today they seemed less imposing, more welcoming.
As we entered the bustling streets, Evelyn's eyes lit up, curiosity sparking in their depths as she took in the sights—the market stalls brimming with trinkets and fresh produce, the chatter of merchants and townsfolk mingling with the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer. Her wonder was palpable, childlike, and I found myself tightening my hold on her hand to ensure she didn't wander off and lose herself in the throng.
"Stay close," I said, half amused, half protective, as she turned her head to take in every detail with wide-eyed amazement.
The estate loomed at the end of the cobblestone path, its gates wrought iron and framed by towering columns. I paused for a moment to slip off the disguise artifact, feeling the illusion fade away like a whisper. The two Silver Wolf knights at the entrance straightened at the sight of me, their armor gleaming as they bowed low.
"Welcome back, Young Master," one said, his eyes flickering briefly to Evelyn, curiosity and caution mingling in his gaze.
"She's with me," I said, my tone leaving no room for question. They nodded, stepping aside as the gates swung open with a creak that seemed to announce our arrival.
We stepped through, the familiar scents of the estate—honeysuckle and polished wood—rushing to meet us. Evelyn's grip on my hand tightened, just for a moment, as we crossed the threshold into a place that, for the first time in a long while, felt like home.