What's its to be a hero

Aurelia wakes up. Her body felt heavy; her mind foggy. Reality began to settle around her—the wet earth, the acrid smell of burnt flesh, and faint blue flames on the dead bodies. Memories of the battle came flooding back: golden light, screams, deaths.

Slowly she pushed herself up, shaking limbs and all. She opened her eyes to find Ronan rummaging through the bandits' tents casually, as if this were just another day for him. His new black katana leaned against a log.

"Ah, jackpot," Ronan said, grinning, pulling out a small pouch. He opened it and his arm disappeared far deeper than it should.

"A space bag. Oh, this is a treasure. Do you know how much this thing can hold? Enough to pack a whole cart probably."

He began tossing things into the bag—coins, arms, food, and little wooden crates. He looked around over his shoulder, noticed Aurelia, and waved lazily at her.

In a bright voice, his tone was carefree as though the two of them were having a relaxing afternoon.

"Hey, hero! You're up. Congrats on your first mana awakening! That light show you pulled off? Amazing. Guess my training worked after all. Sure, I pushed you hard, but you handled it like a champ."

Aurelia's chest tightened at his words. Her hands began to shake as the memories sharpened. The screams, the fear, and the lifeless bodies came flooding back. Tears blurred her vision.

"I. killed them," she whispered, her voice cracking. She couldn't push the words out properly.

"They're dead because of me."

Her body shuddered, and she covered her face with her hands. A sob broke out of her, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her guilt.

Ronan paused, his cheerful act fading. He slung the space bag over his shoulder, walked over to her, and crouched beside her. His voice was steady but kind.

"Yeah. You did. But I need you to see something."

She hesitated, still trembling, but his calm gaze made her follow him. Step by step, he led her to the other side of the camp.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Cowering in among them were the captives: females and children, deathly pale and pinched by misery and terror. The mother cradled her child with desperate grip, and cried down into the tangles of the boy's hair.

"They. they were captives?" whispered Aurelia.

Ronan didn't respond. Instead, he moved closer to the boy, who flinched and stepping back.

She reached out, panic rising in her voice. "Ronan, don't—"

But Ronan ignored her. He pulled out his mini axe. The boy scared, his tiny frame trembling in terror.

Then, in one fluid motion, Ronan swung the axe-not at the boy, but at the ropes binding his hands. The ropes fell to the ground, and the boy stared at his freed wrists in shock.

Ronan dug into the space bag, pulled out a small knife, and handed it to the boy. "Here. Use this to free the others," he said simply.

The boy hesitated, his hands shaking as he took the knife. He slowly moved to the other captives and started cutting their ropes.

Aurelia stood frozen, her heart pounding as she watched the prisoners cry and cling to each other in relief.

Ronan looked at her calmly, with serious eyes. "If we hadn't killed those scumbags," he said, nodding at the bandits' bodies, "those people would've been sold as slaves. The women, the kids. you know what would've happened to them. You stopped that."

She shook her head, her face covered in tears. "But I—

"You saved them," he interrupted. "It wasn't clean. It wasn't easy. But it had to be done."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, his tone softening. "Being a hero isn't about glory or feeling good. It's about making the tough choices. Carrying the weight so others don't have to. You can't save people without getting your hands dirty."

Aurelia looked back at the captives, their tear-streaked faces full of relief and gratitude. Her chest ached, not just from guilt but from the weight of responsibility.

Ronan clapped his hands sharply, catching the captives' attention. They turned to him, their faces still pale but alert.

"Listen up," he said. "If you want to get out of here and live your lives, you'll keep quiet about her." He nodded toward Aurelia. "Not a word about her strange magic. Say it was regular elemental stuff—whatever you want. But nothing more. Got it?"

He crossed his arms and leaned slightly toward them, his voice deceptively light.

"You know," he began, his tone carrying a chilling edge beneath its playfulness, "if word gets out about Aurelia's magic, well… accidents might happen. People could start asking questions. Dangerous questions. And me?" He gestured toward the scattered remains of the bandits with a sweeping hand. "I might get curious about who talked."

The captives stiffened, their faces draining of color. A few of the women clutched their children tighter.

The captives nodded quickly, too frightened to argue. Satisfied, Ronan turned toward the middle of the camp, where a groan caught his attention.

Valture, the bandit leader, was starting to move, his huge body shifting as he tried to sit up.

Ronan strode over, grabbed a fistful of Valture's hair, and yanked him upright. The bandit groaned in pain, his knees hitting the dirt.