Chapter 3: Threat

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About a week passed without anything eventful happening. Prota, for the most part, stayed upstairs in the living room and didn't really feel like going down and seeing other people. She either slept or ate, occasionally walking around and looking at some of the books John kept in various areas of the house. She couldn't read any of the books, but she liked looking at the covers and feeling the leather bindings.

From what she could gather of the images, most of the books were introductions to Celestia, the continent they lived on, and more specifically, Solaria, the country of humans. Prota had naturally assumed that John had been born here, but it was possible that he came from another country. She considered the words he'd said the first day, something about "medicine being in this world." Maybe he was just talking about being in a different country. After all, it wasn't like all humans were born in Solaria.

The days mostly consisted of Prota staying upstairs while John went down to tend the bar, mostly waiting for him to come back up. Prota often wondered what went on down there, but she still had a fear of interacting with other people.

In the week they'd spent together, Prota had learned a few things. For one, she learned that she had an extremely high resistance to pain, almost to the point that it could be called immunity. She had never thought of herself as particularly resilient or anything, but when she'd grabbed a piping hot pot off the stove with her bare hands, John had yelled in surprise. It was only when she looked into the pot and felt the heat hit her face that she realized the pot was boiling hot. Moreover, she was a little bit clumsy and kept bumping into things, but she never noticed as more bruises appeared on her body, these inflicted by herself.

"Is this… some kind of magic?" John had wondered. but Prota didn't even know how to use magic.

She had also developed an addiction of sorts to food. It wasn't exactly healthy, but she found that whenever John wanted her to do something, there was often food as a prize in return.

Finally, she'd learned that John was someone she could rely on, to a certain extent. She constantly thought about the talk they'd had, about trust. Prota wanted to trust John. She really did. He was nice, and he treated her well and didn't try to touch her or pry into her past, and mostly let her do what she wanted. There was something aloof about him, something about his expression, mainly that his eyes didn't fit his face, but that was something Prota only understood subconsciously. It wasn't something she could express.

So she wanted to trust him. But at the same time, she was stopping herself from doing so. Over the course of a year, she'd learned that the easiest way to avoid pain was to simply not feel at all. Of course, for a child as small as Prota, that wasn't possible. For her to cut her emotions off completely wasn't something she could do. That didn't mean she didn't try.

She hid her emotions behind a mask of neutrality, and somewhere along the way she'd just forgotten how to express herself. She tried to ignore a lot of things, tried to block out the words others threw at her and the beatings she sometimes received, tried to isolate herself from everyone else, and that was where her problem lay.

She was still stuck in the mentality of isolating herself. She didn't want to be alone, but at the same time, she was still telling herself that if she was alone, she couldn't be abandoned again. She couldn't be hurt again. And if she wasn't hurting, then everything would be ok.

So there she was, stuck between two decisions, her heart pulling both ways.

~~~

Sometime around the next week, some guards showed up.

"Oh. What's up?" John said casually, wiping a glass. There weren't many people around, and a city guard or two would show up occasionally, so he wasn't surprised.

"You're John Quarta, right?" the first guard said roughly. "We received a report that you assaulted two men. Come with us."

"Me? Hmph. With what? You have me on your records, right? I don't even have a mana core. How the hell am I supposed to beat two men up?"

"Don't get cocky. It's not like there aren't other powerless men in the city."

"Ok, and so you're saying what? I went out looking for people to beat up? I guess that could be fun for some people, but it's not really my thing."

The guard slammed his fist on the counter. "Hey. We're not your pals, alright? I don't know why you think you can get all chummy with us. This is an investigation in regards to the assault of two nobles."

John sighed. "Ah. Nobles, huh? Yeah, I guess fantasy stories have to have this plotline at some point. You'd think they'd learn how to write something other than the rich, spoiled noble throwing a tantrum over a little spilled milk."

"What- huh?" the guard frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud? My bad, force of habit. Anyways, nobles. Yeah, keep going?" John was clearly unconcerned.

"John Quarta, you are charged with assaulting and knocking out two nobles of the royal household. You are to come with us to the castle for a formal report."

"Ok, fuck you," John sighed. "Look. You can try to drag me off. Honestly, I don't really think I could put up a fight. But. I'm not just gonna sit here and do nothing, ok? And there're a few adventurers I know that aren't just gonna stand and let that happen."

The conversation had been relatively quiet, but already a few heads had turned towards the guards, and there was a quiet murmur that hadn't been there before.

"...the captain warned us this would happen," the other guard said quietly. "She said he had a way with words."

"Then we proceed?"

"I don't really want to start a riot."

The two looked back at John and gave a nod. "Fine. You don't have to come with us. Honestly, the nobles were drunk that night, so while they'll be a bit upset, there's no definitive proof that it was you."

"Good to hear," John said with a satisfied smile, going back to his bar. However, the guards weren't done.

"That is… we need to confirm one thing."

John froze. "Yeah? Like what?"

"The nobles said that they were out to "kill the demon," whatever that means, but ultimately they said a small girl with long white hair had been with you. We just need to confirm that there is no such child like that living with you, and you'll be good to go."

"Do you have a search warrant?"

"Do we have a what?"

"This isn't… fuck, that doesn't exist here. Look. I'm not gonna just let you waltz upstairs and look around my place, ok?"

"Why? If there's nothing to hide, you should be ok with it."

John grit his teeth. Prota might've been smart enough to listen in, but even then, it wasn't like there were a lot of places to hide. That was an oversight John thought to fix, but that wasn't possible at the moment.

"...fine," John said quietly. "Just let me calm the customers down."

He went out from behind the counter and talked to the five customers that were in the bar, four of them regulars, all somewhat powerful looking adventurers. As he talked to each of them, they nodded, casting a few looks at the guards but for the most part calming down. With that, John opened his door and lead the guards upstairs.

~~~

"Hey. I heard the conversation between that fella and the guards. Will he be ok? He's clearly hiding something, right?" the new customer said. He'd only come a few times, but he liked the place and didn't want anything bad to happen.

The regulars laughed. "John? That guy? Honestly, if he's hiding anything and the guards find it, I'd be surprised if they come back down alive."

"A-alive? But- doesn't he lack a mana core?"

"Oh, sure. He's completely coreless. I don't think there's a single person that has less mana than him. He's broken appraisal orbs since they're supposed to be able to pick up even the faintest of mana traces. He's completely dry, through and through."

"Then- what, is he a martial arts master or something?"

The regulars looked at each other and laughed.

"That guy can barely lift more than a few crates of beer at a time. Martial arts master? Maybe he's just really good at acting, but no, he's pretty average. Not exactly a 2-inch weakling, but he's not some musclebound mountain either."

Another one of the regulars snorted. "If he's that good at acting, he should be on a stage, not running a bar."

The newbie frowned. "Come on, guys, enough beating around the bush. What's he got?"

"Don't worry about it," the regulars grinned.

The new customer sighed, and the small talk continued until a loud click silenced everyone in the bar. The regulars smiled.

"Hey, you wanted to know what he's got? He's got that."

~~~

The first thing the guards had seen when they'd gone up was Prota, who'd been sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Well, mostly just tracing the cover, but it was "reading."

"Freeze!" the guards yelled, pointing their swords at the girl. The first guard looked back. "So you did bring her in. Look, I don't like it, but we're gonna have to take you in. Her, too. That's a demon girl, didn't you know?"

Prota's expression froze. John saw her and grimaced. She clearly didn't like being called that. Her face was still neutral, but John could see something like despair on her face. Despair and guilt.

She's just a [Character].

Then again, aren't you, too?

"John? Hello?" the guard said, and then saw the look on his face. Slowly, he turned around and pointed his sword at John. "Our captain told us you're not dangerous. You don't have a drop of mana in you, right? Don't resist. Come along calmly, and we won't have to do anything."

"The girl?"

"Don't worry about her. Actually… if you let us take her, we'll leave you alone. You can just stay here, and we'll pretend nothing happened. I didn't think the nobles were telling the truth, but… it really is the demon girl."

Prota shrunk into herself, making herself smaller than ever as if she wanted to shrivel up and disappear. She wouldn't blame John if he left her alone. They barely knew each other, and if what the guards were saying was true, then it would be favourable for John to hand her over. He couldn't fight armed, trained soldiers.

"Yeah? Ok, maybe she's a demon. So what? Isn't that racist? You discriminating simply because she's not human?"

"Racist? What- no. You don't know about demons? Come on, that's not possible. We were all raised knowing what demons are. Those monsters that come from over the seas, terrible beings with terrifying power, especially the human looking ones. Come one, you've never heard the prophecy of the demon king and the hero?"

"Demon king an he- you're fucking kidding me," John groaned. "You're telling me I'm in that kind of [Story]?" He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "No, I'm getting off track. Look. I don't care. That girl is most definitely not dangerous. I can vouch for her."

"Sorry, but your word isn't worth a lot to us."

John closed his eyes and shrugged. "Well. Guess that's that."

Prota, too, closed her eyes. She waited for the hands to grab her-

And then opened them to see John flinging his hoodie open, revealing a shining piece of metal, intricately forged and put together. There was a handle with something that looked like a trigger, and it was attached to a cylinder of sorts, one that contained six holes, each of which were filled with pieces of metal. The entire thing was tinted blood red, the handle pitch black.

Whipping it out, he pointed it at the guard pointing a sword at him and let his index finger rest on the trigger.

"I can kill you before you kill me." He shifted his arm ever so slightly to the right to point to the other guard. "You, too."

His thumb landed on a piece of metal that extended from the back, and he pushed down, letting a loud click ring throughout the room. "Your choice. You can piss off, or you can die."

The guards backed down a bit. It wasn't just the weapon, but the aura John was letting out. The guards that had been sent weren't greenhorns. They were seasoned warriors that had experienced their fair share of battles. Warriors like them instinctively knew who was dangerous and who wasn't. If you don't learn to interpret killing intent, you're not fit for the battlefield.

John's killing intent was intense and direct. It was like standing in front of a dangerous wild beast, but an intelligent beast, one that knew it could kill you and was just figuring out how to do so. There was no anger behind it. Just cold, calculating bloodlust.

It wasn't something a bartender should have.

"What the- what the hell?" the first guard gasped. Prota, too, was amazed. She wasn't as capable of feeling killing intent as the guards were, but even she could feel the dangerous aura oozing out from John. She'd never seen him look like this before. And all for what? Her? Why wouldn't he let her go? What was he thinking?

"O-oi. That weapon," the second guard said.

The first guard looked down and frowned, only for his eyes to shoot wide open in recognition.

"You- you're… what?" he said quietly. "What are you doing running a bar?"

"Don't worry about it," John said quietly. "You leak a single word of this to anyone, and I personally hunt you down and fuck you up. Got it?"

The guard nodded and gulped. "Come on, let's leave."

"What about her?" John said, nodding towards Prota, his weapon still aimed at the guard.

"She was never here," the second guard said.

"Good."

With that, the two men hurried down the stairs and left.

~~~

"Look at 'em go," one of the regulars said cheerfully. She had bright red hair and a boisterous laugh, her muscles bulging as she downed the rest of her beer. "Quarta. That bastard's as sly as ever."

"Come on, Hestia," a thin man with glasses said, putting his hand on her arm. "Give the guards some slack."

"Shut the fuck up, Gale," Hestia growled. "Those prissies deserve everything they get."

A heavily bearded dwarf grunted. "Huh. Do not underestimate them. They have been through their own fair share of battles."

"Oh, Gorm, shut up," the fourth regular sighed. He was thin and wore a black cloak, twin daggers hanging by his side. "We've been through way more than they've probably ever been through."

"Grey. You speak out of turn. Do not judge others by their appearances," the dwarf said calmly..

"Are you guys adventurers?" the newbie said carefully.

"You ever hear of the demon worshipper subjugation squad?" Hestia grinned, slamming her now empty cup onto the table.

"Well yeah, they're pretty famous. There was this really good swordsman, a really muscular fire mage, this dwarf tank and an elf assassin…" his voice trailed off as he looked at the smiling party in front of him. "Oh, dear Celeste…"

"That's us," Gale said patiently. "Don't worry about Hestia, she lacks a brain."

"Who're you calling brainless, you skinny wimp?" she growled, shooting daggers with her glare.

"Don't worry about those two," Gorm said. "Always bickering. But that was us, yes. A while ago, yes."

"Wasn't there a fifth?" the newbie said, looking at the people in front of him with a newfound respect.

Gorm just looked at the man. "Who do you think?"

"The- the bartender? No way, that's impossible. You're all A class mages, at the very least! What's a manaless bartender doing with you guys?"

Gale dodged a punch and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, that's not really our place to say. Just know he can be a scary guy if he needs to be."

"He's a guy with balls of steel!" Hestia grinned. "I didn't know someone as crafty as this wimp could be so ballsy!"

The newbie frowned. "So… you guys come here to see him?"

"Something like that, yeah. You hear what he said about "story" and shit like that?" Gale said.

"Yeah, what does it mean?"

"Beats me. But he's a guy who always knows what's gonna happen before it ever does. I… I don't know. I didn't talk to him too much. But he's an interesting guy, I'll say that. He knows a lot. He can help you a lot, if you know how to talk to him. But at the same time, it's sometimes good to not get too involved with him."

The newbie shook his head. "I… huh. All this time…"

"Don't worry about it, child. Just learn and move forwards," Gorm said kindly.

"Ah, there he is. That motherfucker," Hestia called out as John came down the stairs. "You get to use that thing you call a 'gun'?"

"Both the guards were alive, dumbass," John said casually. "Look, as much as it's great and wonderful having you guys here, I'm gonna have to close early today. Get out."

John hustled the group out the door but took one last look at them. "You guys know, right?"

"Not a word. Don't worry, Quarta. We know how to keep secrets."

As the group left, John flipped the sign from "open" to "closed" and turned around, finding Prota already at the base of the stairs, the cloak he'd given her wrapped around her. He sighed and put his face in his hands. Her face had healed somewhat, and John took his first good look at her normal resting face.

Her eyes were always half closed, giving the impression that she was sleepy, her mouth a small line that remained straight, never curved, almost like a robot or a mannequin. In fact, even mannequins usually had more expression than this girl. It was cute, in a way, but at the same time very disorienting. John sighed and leaned against the bar.

"Guess it's time for another talk, huh?"