Hero

Editors: Speedphoenix, Joker

The wingbearers' settlement was a sizeable one. It wasn't quite big enough to be labelled a city, but at the very least, it was no mere hamlet. That was why it seemed odd that the entire village had been drowned in the flames of war. Nell herself had already experienced several encounters. Each time, she worked with nearby wingbearer warriors in order to fend off their hooded assailants. The situation at hand was an awful one. And it only seemed to be getting worse. The clashing of blades grew louder and more frequent as the hero and her companions approached the village's center.

"They're too coordinated for this to be some random attack." Mekina's expression turned grim as she looked upon her surroundings. Her words came in a low, contemplative mutter. "It has to be a military operation."

"Right," said Ronia. "They're clearly targeting the wingbearers. We just got unlucky and got caught in the crossfire."

While the court mage wasn't exactly the type of girl that liked to wear her emotions on her sleeves, they just so happened to be written all over her face at this exact moment. Her gaze was sharpened; she was clearly on guard.

"Whatever the case, let's keep pushing forward," said Nell. "The only thing we can do right now is to get there as quickly as we can."

Both of the hero's companions abided by her words and remained silent as they continued their journey in earnest. Only after a few minutes of running and skirmishing did they finally arrive at their destination. The first thing they did was hide themselves behind a nearby building. Observation was the key word—they looked upon the scenario in order to glean what they could before getting too caught up in the battle to see the big picture. Their investigations immediately led them to discover that most of the village's warriors were gathered around a large house just north of the town square.

Like the rest of the village, flames decorated the central building's vicinity. There were literally bonfires everywhere. Structures had been razed—and not only by the men in black. The wingbearers had pulled down one of their own watchtowers and converted it into a temporary barricade. Most nearby conflicts were centered around it. Wingbearers and men in black alike clashed both in front of and behind the defensive structure. That said, only the unknowns were negatively affected by its presence. Unlike the winged warriors, they were unable to take to the skies and circumvent it with minimal effort.

Hopping the wall wasn't the only advantage that the ability to fly had brought the hawk-faced fighters. Their wings allowed them to easily maneuver in all three dimensions, thereby expanding their options in battle. The sky was their ally, one with which they had a longstanding relationship. So practiced were their movements that even an amateur could easily tell that they were well accustomed to aerial combat.

"There are too many of them for us to sneak past." Nell frowned as she looked upon the countless enemies in her way. "I'll break right through the front! Make sure you two stay right behind me!"

She didn't bother waiting for either of her companions to answer before shooting into the fray like an arrow from a fully drawn bow. The hero trusted her friends enough to know that they were sure to follow.

They couldn't react to her. The men in black, whose affiliation remained unknown, were too busy dealing with the wingbearers' aerial assault to evade her holy sword's edge. They could do nothing but fall to Durandal as she and her companions charged right through their ranks and leapt over the barricade.

"Was this invasion your doing, girl?" An angry roar reached her ears the moment she landed on the other side of the fallen tower. The chief of the wingbearers had spoken, his voice laced with malice, rage, and suspicion.

"Y-you've got it all wrong!" said Nell. "This has nothing to do with us!"

Her protests did little to quell his anger. Fortunately, she wasn't alone in the endeavor.

"Please calm yourself, sir! I can attest that she means us no harm. She saved my life, among many others." A nearby warrior approached the chief and made a case for the human and her companions.

While she was grateful for his help, Nell couldn't quite pinpoint the identity of the man that had come to her aid. It wasn't her fault. Wingbearers were so different from humans that the latter found it difficult to tell members of the former apart. Only the chief was particularly easy to distinguish. He was so much more muscular than the rest of his tribesmen that he stood out like a sore thumb. Though she didn't recognize him, his words alone were enough to evidence that it was one of the many she had assisted on her way to the town square.

The chief closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Having one of his own explain the situation quickly convinced the chief that the girl wasn't lying. "I am sorry. I should not have jumped to conclusions. Thank you for helping my people."

"It's okay, I understand," said Nell. "More importantly, do you know what's going on?"

"I am under the impression that we are being attacked by the fiends," said the chief. "I do not know the precise race of our assailants, but I believe I have seen them amongst the fiends' members. However, I cannot confirm my suspicions. They have yet to relay their intentions. We were attacked without a word."

"The fiends…?"

Nell furrowed her brow. It was a familiar name—one she would have preferred not to hear. He had told her that they were his enemies, so she had tentatively marked them as hers as well. The hero knew that if the chief's guess was on point, then it would mean that they were up against agents from one of the demon realm's two most powerful factions.

"The lack of light that accompanies the moon puts us at a sure disadvantage. Our eyes lose most of their function in the darkness," said the chief. "However, we wingbearers remain a race of warriors. This is not anywhere near enough to force us to yield. Our honourless assailants have underestimated us. And for that, we will show them that they are fools!"

He brandished his naginata, which like his frame, was significantly larger than that of the other wingbearers. The wind almost seemed to screech as his blade tore through both it and the nearest enemy.

"We'll help!" said Nell. "Ronia, use your magic to back everyone up! Mekina, take care of the wounded!"

"Roger," said the mage.

"Sure thing, dear," said the intelligence officer.

"I am sorry, humans." The chief lowered his head. "It appears that you have been caught in our troubles."

"You acknowledged us as your sisters in arms, chief. And we plan to play the part. We won't abandon you in your time of need!"

Nell's voice was firm, unwavering, and full of conviction—a fact that put a wide grin on the wingbearer's face.

"You said that you guys see much better when there's light, right?" asked Nell.

"That is correct. We do not see well in the darkness. But with sufficient light, our vision becomes one of our most powerful tools. We are able to see far beyond even those distant hills should the sun be at its peak.

Wingbearers were effectively nightblind. That was in part why the village was aflame. The winged warriors had sacrificed their own homes in order to better see their foes. Of course, the fiends knew this too. Both sides had designated the flames as key points of contention.

"I've got just the thing." The hero raised her divine blade up above her head and chanted a spell. "I beseech the spirits of my ancestors! Heed my call! Illuminate my path! Sacred Shine!"

A glowing orb emerged from Durandal's tip, ascended into the sky, and began raining light down on its surroundings. The rays it emitted were powerful enough to make her surroundings appear the same way they would at noon. But like the sun, the light emitted from the orb was more gentle than overbearing, more warm than scorching hot.

"Thank you. That is exactly what we needed!" said the chief. "Men! Let us engage our foes! Take up your arms and deliver them to hell!"

The wingbearers roared. Nell's light had provided them with everything they needed to see not only their enemies, but each other. With their spirits ablaze and their weapons at the ready, the warriors began working together and rapidly mowing down their black-robed enemies. Seeing the sudden burst of momentum soothed Nell's anxiety and filled her with confidence. Things were looking up. It only seemed to be a matter of time before the wingbearers achieved total victory.

"Chief!"

"Oh, well would you look at that? It is the idiot I call my son. What has kept you from joining us in glorious combat?"

A young, fully armoured wingbearer approached the chief. Despite not being able to tell individuals apart, Nell felt as if she recognized him. The colour of a wingbearer's plumes would change as they grew older, and the individual before the chief just so happened to have a very distinctive set of shades.

Seeing Nell's confusion, Ronia whispered into her friend's ear and informed her of his identity. "That's the guy that started yelling when we were talking with the chief."

"Right…"

The mage's reminder was more than enough to trigger the hero's memories. She hadn't realized that the man her words had offended was the chief's son. The revelation was a nice one to have, but it didn't really seem to mean much to her, so she raised her sword and prepared herself to engage the men assaulting the village.

Only for all her plans to fall apart.

The chief coughed. Blood dribbled from his lips and fell onto the blade that had been driven into his chest.

By his son.

"Chief!?"

"Boss!?"

"Get out of my way! I must attend to our leader!"

The wingbearers were shaken. Many of their warriors immediately shoved the men in black aside and attempted to make their way over to the man to whom they had sworn their fealty. But they couldn't. Their enemies engaged them before they could retreat and forced them to continue swinging their halberds.

"You… traitor…!" The wingbearer's words were distorted by the blood welling up within his throat. His heavy frame heaved as it desperately tried to take in the air it required to function.

"Hmph." Rather than grieving for his wounded parent, the younger warrior did nothing but scoff as he drew a bloody knife from the wounded man's chest. "You have gone senile, father. You are no longer the patriarch you were in your youth. It is time for you to step down."

Only after seeing more blood did Nell finally unfreeze. She dashed towards the pair and slashed at the chief's assailant. Evading it was the best he could do; she was too quick for him to counter. But rather than following up and finishing him, she chose to grab the man that had proclaimed her his sister in arms and withdrew to safety.

"Mekina!"

"I'm on it, dear!"

The most mature of the three women ran over to the chief's side and reached to treat his wounds, only to be pushed away by the injured warrior himself.

"Please calm down, sir. You really shouldn't be moving around with a wound that deep!" she said.

"This… is nothing… A mere… flesh wound…"

His breathing was ragged and his words accompanied by clots of blood. Blood spilled from his core, leaked from his chest, and splattered all over the ground beneath him. He was heavily injured. Yet, he had refused to be disarmed; the grip he had on his naginata had never once loosened. He used the weapon as a crutch to prop himself up onto one knee before rising to his feet.

"So it… was you…" His words were laced with dissatisfaction and just anger. "It was you… who brought these… assailants into our lands…"

"That's right, father. I've joined forces with the fiends, the only men truly worthy of being named our brethren."

"You fool…" sighed the chief. "How low you have fallen… I did not think… that my very own son… would succumb to their temptations…"

"Say what you will, father, but your time is over. The wingbearer tribe is no longer yours to command! It is we who will rule it in your place!"

It was a cue. His words prompted several dozen wingbearers to flock to his side. All of them were as he was, young, foolish, and proud to the point of degeneracy.

"It is over, father! This land will be your grave!"

"You wish to kill me? Fine! Try it!" The chief took up a two-handed stance despite his still bleeding wound. "You are all fools. As the chief of our people, it is my duty to devote all I have to your reeducation."

"I suppose these words are wasted on you now that you're on the verge of death, but you really should've listened to us." One of the men in black sneered at the chief as his allies gathered around him. "None of this would've happened if you'd just obeyed."

"Hah! What a ruse!" The chief laughed. "You are a coward. You rely on underhanded schemes and ill-gotten gains! We have no loyalty for the likes of you! Now fight me! Challenge me in droves like the dishonourable scum you are! I will use my blade to seek recompense for the attack you have ordered on my people!"

His battlecry roused up many a spirit. Those that hadn't betrayed him raised their weapons as their morale hit a new high.

"You shall not fight alone, chief! You have my blade!"

"And mine! I too shall offer my life to the cause!"

"We, your loyal warriors, will fight by your side!"

Both groups disengaged and rallied to their leader. They faced off with their weapons drawn and their hostilities bared.

"…I find it peculiar that you have chosen to remain ever loyal in a time such as this, but I see no fault in your decisions." The chief took a moment to take a deep breath before breaking into a shout. "To me, men! Tonight, we march through hell's gates! Let us fight to our last!"

There was a big smile on his face, a reassuring, warrior-like grin.

"C-chief!?" Nell questioned him with her eyes wide, but he ignored her and continued with his speech.

"Now go, men! Discipline your children and show them that they have misplaced their dignity!"

A messy melee began the moment he finished his decree. Friend and foe became all but impossible to discern. And if that wasn't bad enough, there came the matter of numbers. The number of foes that each warrior would have to slay was absurd. Still, the wingbearers did as true elites would and faced them without the slightest hint of fear. Their enthusiasm was domineering; their battlelust overwhelming, and their power unquestionable.

The man in charge of the mysterious black-robed army clicked his tongue in annoyance before shouting at a nearby subordinate. "You there! Get rid of the humans!"

"That, I will not allow."

It was a meaningless order. His servant was cut down with a single blow before he could so much as get in range.

"You must leave this place! If you truly wish to aid us, then take those amongst us who are unable to fight and go!"

The hero hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to abandon the chief or his warriors.

"Nell!" The impatience that filled Ronia's voice as she called for her brought Nell back to reality. She had to move.

"Okay…" she said with a hint of regret. "Let's go. Stay alive, chief! Make sure this isn't the last time we see each other!"

"Your concern is wasted. They would need another thousand men to defeat me," laughed the chief. "Regillis! Orias! Take a few of our warriors and leave this place. Keep the women and children safe!"

"Orders received, sir."

"Yes sir, I will uphold my duty, even if it costs me my life!"

Reluctantly, Nell followed the chief's orders and joined Regillis, Orias, and many others in retreating from the village-turned-battlefield.

Nell was on guard. The pursuit she was subject to forced her to remain on edge at all times. The numerous enemy encounters she had engaged in were more sporadic than they were cohesive; the men in black only confronted her with one small unit at a time. Still, the chase was intense. The fiendish horde almost seemed endless. Countless foes had fallen to her blade, but reinforcements continued to flood out of the woodwork regardless.

The men were silent. Though there had been many of them, not one had leaked their orders—not that they needed to. Their actions clearly suggested that they had been instructed to kill everyone that resisted them, details be damned. Nell and her companions had no choice but to keep moving—if they wanted to live, that is.

"Nell!" Ronia raised her voice right as the hero finished dispatching another wave of enemies. "We need backup! Now!"

The swordsman pursed her lips. They were in a bad spot. A really bad spot. She didn't really want to acknowledge Ronia's statement. Agreeing with her meant involving Yuki and, subsequently, exposing him to danger. That was the last thing she wanted. Even the thought of it plagued her with guilt. But she knew that it couldn't be helped. They would have to reach a city in order to get any backup. And frankly, there weren't any nearby. The fiends were sure to take them down before they made it.

Yuki was the only one they were capable of contacting, the only person that she and the people traveling with her could rely on to provide them with the help they so desperately needed. Her reluctance didn't stem from her knowledge of his strength. In fact, Nell knew that he would be able to overturn the near-hopeless situation at hand. She just didn't want to be the reason that he was put in harm's way. But she wasn't the only person here. The hero knew that many a life was at stake.

"…Yeah, I guess you're right." The hero silenced the part of her screaming in self-reproach and reluctantly acknowledged the mage's demand. "We don't really have any other choice. Use the orb."

Ronia reached into the pouch she had on her waist the moment her friend agreed to her pleas. But before she could grab the item in question, she was subject to a sudden assault. Her crisis detection skill allowed her to sense it. The taciturn mage knew that the enemies' archers had unleashed a volley upon her.

So she dodged.

She pushed with as much force as her legs could muster and hit the deck. Ronia wasn't a frontliner. She wasn't very agile. Still, the mage managed to roll out of the way and avoid all bodily harm even in the face of her lack of physical strength. It was an action that everyone but her found commendable.

Because the same couldn't have been said for her equipment.

Rather than hitting her, the arrow she so narrowly avoided drove its tip straight into her bag's string. With nothing to hold it, the leather pouch fell straight to the ground.

There was a crack, a loud crack.

Ronia gasped in dismay as she swivelled around to retrieve the container and its contents.

"Bore through my enemies! Sacred Arrow!" Ronia wasn't the only one to turn. Nell did too. The hero created several projectiles made of light and sent them flying at the enemy archers.

"Follow her lead! Don't let them get any closer!"

Spurred on by the human, the wingbearers also raised their bows and began launching arrows, one after another, in an attempt to keep the enemy in check.

Having her allies return fire provided the mage with just enough time to grab her pouch. She turned around the moment it was in her hands and retreated to safety while looking inside—an act that led her to grimace.

"This is bad. They're broken…" she muttered.

"Both of them!?" asked Nell.

"Yeah!" Ronia's expression warped in panic. She clenched her teeth and began to tremble as she realized that everything had gone wrong. They had lost their only hope at survival. And it was all her fault.

Like Ronia, Nell's eyes widened. She too recognized the fact that they had just lost their contingency plan. A sense of hopelessness assailed her mind. But she drove it away. The hero knew that panic would serve no purpose on the battlefield, so she took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm.

Rather than overreacting, she redirected her energies towards racking her mind, towards finding a way out of the seemingly hopeless situation that they were stuck in. And, after a brief delay, she found it.

"Can you fix them, Ronia?"

"…I think so," said the mage. "I've been looking at their circuits and trying to understand them for days. I can definitely fix them. But I'll need a few hours."

"That's great! Now keep running! We'll figure something out later!"

***

"Wow! You're so brave! Good job sitting through all of that. It must have hurt." Mekina smiled at the child whose injuries she was taking care of before giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Okay, you're all set! Next patient please!"

After briefly glancing at the intelligence operative tasked with taking care of the wounded, Nell turned back towards the pair of warriors sitting before her. "How are things looking, Regillis?"

"It appears that we are safe for the time being. Your Barrier of Illusion has thrown them off of our trail," replied the wingbearer. "However, we must remain vigilant. There are far too many of them. It is only a matter of time before they discover us once more."

"…And it doesn't seem like they've got any intention of giving up," sighed Nell.

"They do not wish for us to tell others of their underhandedness. There is much evidence to support the saying that demons obey the strong. However, it does not encompass the whole truth. We only obey those with might if they act in a manner deserving of our respect. The fiends know this. I do not know why they have suddenly begun acting so shamelessly," said Regillis, in a grave tone. "Refusing to offer them our loyalty appears to have driven them out of their minds. They cannot allow us to live long enough to reveal their desperation. It would label them dishonourable. Their infamy would be accompanied by a severe loss of influence. I do not believe they will call off the pursuit."

Nell's group was situated in an old ruin a bit away from the village. While they hadn't managed to truly lose their pursuers, they had at least gotten them off their coattails for the time being. The most prominent nearby structure was a large statue. It looked as if it would have once been a towering, majestic sight to behold, but all the wear and tear it had been subject to had all but destroyed it. Making out its former appearance from what remained was impossible.

Many a wingbearer rested at the statue's feet, lying on their backs and sides to abate the overwhelming sense of exhaustion that assaulted them. The few that were up and about were handing out the little bits of food they happened to have on hand and helping the other members of their tribe.

The scene almost made their temporary encampment appear like something along the lines of a makeshift military hospital. Those on the ground functioned as the patients while those on their feet played the part of caretakers. However, unlike a field hospital, the wingbearer camp was severely lacking in misery. That wasn't to say the people were cheerful. Some wore foreboding frowns. Others clearly looked as if they had resolved themselves for death. But no one had given up hope. No man, woman, or child had fallen to despair; the wingbearers refused to conduct themselves in a manner not befitting a proud clan of warriors.

It was this sort of behaviour that led Nell to understand exactly why they were regarded as such a powerful force in times of war. It all stemmed from their attitudes. Their calm and composed outlook had allowed them to earn many an achievement.

"How far away did you say the nearest city was again?" asked Nell.

"I believe it is a two day march. It would not take nearly as long if we were to fly, but taking to the skies and revealing ourselves to the enemy would only lead to our demise," said Orias.

One of the largest problems faced by the wingbearers was the fact that they couldn't make use of their greatest asset: their wings. Their inability to do so was a two-part problem. It was half because they would have trouble flying due to the lack of vision that accompanied the darkness, and half because it would allow the enemy to spot them with ease. They had no choice but to remain stuck to the ground. Like Nell and the other humans, they had conducted their escape with their feet.

"They are sure to know that we wish to reach civilization. They have likely planned to ambush us immediately prior to our arrival," said Orias.

"…I guess that means we have no choice but to hope Ronia comes through."

Nell glanced in her friend's direction as she spoke. The mage was immersed in her task. No one else faulted her for dropping the orbs, but she felt a heavy sense of responsibility nonetheless. That was why she had devoted every last fibre of her being to fixing the red orb of correspondence. It was her way of owning up to her mistake and solving the problem that she had inadvertently caused.

The intensity of her gaze and her lack of frustration seemed to indicate that all was going well, that she would be able to complete her repairs if given enough time. And that was the problem. Nell didn't think that they could stall for long enough, at least not with the way things were. Ronia would never be able to truly focus on her work if she had to stay on the move. Conversely, sitting around would ultimately subject them to a heavy assault.

Things were looking bad. Really bad.

The hero knew that every hour she bought would improve everyone's chances, that buying a day would all but guarantee everyone's safety. Something had to be done.

"…I do not wish to question your judgement," said Regillis doubtfully. "But are you certain that calling for aid will better our chances? Did you not say that you have only a single individual willing to assist you?"

"It will," said Nell. "I trust him enough to bet everything I have on him. I know he's strong enough to pull through for us. In fact, he's so much stronger than me that I can't even tell how strong he is."

"That is quite impressive. If you are willing to praise him to that extent, then I will trust you and expect the best." said Regillis with his eyes wide. "I would have wished for the opportunity to cross blades with him and see his skills for myself were we not in such dire straits."

"Indeed. I would very much love the opportunity to spar with him should we survive," added Orias.

The warriors' comments led Nell to flash a wry smile. Both were still eagerly looking forward to challenging powerful foes despite the situation at hand.

While Nell might have, to some extent, enjoyed it, the relatively peaceful atmosphere was not meant to last.

"We've spotted a group of enemies to the southwest! They'll reach us in about ten minutes!" A panicked warrior dashed into the camp as he gave his report.

"It appears that they do not wish to provide us even a moment of rest," said Regillis, bitterly.

"Are there any other places we can use to take shelter nearby!?" shouted Nell.

"…" Regillis closed his eyes for a moment as he contemplated the question. "There is a valley half a day's distance away. It is the perfect place for us to hide, but it will serve little purpose if they discover us before we reach it."

"…Alright," said Nell, after a deep breath.

The hero stood up, looked in the direction of her enemies, and took a few quick steps forward.

"Nell!?" Orias opened his eyes wide. "What are you—"

"Isolate! Barrier of Separation!"

A massive wall suddenly materialized itself between Nell and the warriors, one created by the hero's barrier-based unique skill. The towering, translucent structure went on as far as the eye could see. It was literally several kilometers long.

"Nell!? Nell!"

"Do you wish to take them alone!? What is the meaning of this!"

Both warriors immediately began hitting the barrier as they shouted in concern. But she didn't pay their worries much mind.

She knew that something had to be done. The status quo had to change. That was why she had to step up to the plate.

It was the only way.

"Take care of everyone, you two."

"We cannot simply leave you to perish! It is not you, but we who are their targets!"

"If you want to help me, then protect Ronia," she voiced a string of words resembling the ones that the chief of the wingbearers had said to her upon her departure. The phrase was accompanied by a smile, a stiff smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Make sure she's safe enough to finish her repairs, okay?"

"Nell!"

"Nell!?"

The next two to approach the wall and call for her were Ronia and Mekina.

"If you don't want me to die, then get out of here and finish those repairs, Ronia!"

"What are you talking about!? Stop being stupid and get rid of this bar—"

"Take care of Ronia for me, Mekina." Nell ignored the mage's protests and cut them off as she began speaking to her other companion. "And make sure you keep taking care of everyone that's hurt too, okay?"

"…Of course, dear." The older human agreed after a moment's hesitation.

"Of course!? What do you mean, Mekina! Don't just listen to her! Stop her!" Ronia's screams were laced with panic and dread. But again, they were ignored.

Though Nell was facing her friends, she could hear a series of footsteps coming from behind her. The enemy was closing in. Rapidly. "They're here already! Just hurry up and go!"

"We're leaving, Ronia!" said Mekina.

"But that means—"

"No buts! If you really want to help her, then start running!"

"…Fine."

"We haven't achieved any of our objectives yet! Make sure you don't abandon the mission, okay!?" Mekina craned her neck to give the brown-haired hero one last look as she took off.

"Don't die, Nell! No matter what!" Likewise, the mage did the same as she broke into a sprint.

"Rest assured, Nell. You have our respect, and we will protect your friends even if it costs us our lives," said Regillis.

"I hope that the tides of war will turn in your favour," said Orias.

Hearing everyone's parting words caused Nell's smile to relax and become more natural. She couldn't help but find the frantic manner in which everyone else was acting a bit amusing.

After watching them leave, she turned back towards the foes headed her way and drew her divine blade from its sheath. The holy weapon glowed. Durandal basked its surroundings with a pale light. And as she raised it in front of her, she closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

She was ready. The barrier had consumed a massive amount of mana, but she still had about half of it remaining—not that she was all that dependant on her mana to begin with. Nell wasn't a mage. She was a swordsman. She could continue to fight even if her magical reserves were drained dry.

The footsteps grew clearer with every passing moment. There were dozens of foes coming her way. At least.

Fear struck her. Her pulse quickened; her heart beat so hard and fast that she began to find it obnoxious. Her legs trembled. She felt like she was about to collapse.

Not once did the thought of fighting for glory and honour cross her mind. Frankly, she wanted to turn tail and run as far away as she possibly could. But she couldn't. She didn't know why fate had played her the hand it did, but whatever the case, she had wound up a hero. The heroes that she had always looked up to, the literal legends whose tales were passed down by the bards and minstrels, never fled in the face of danger. They were known for functioning as living shields. Their power was always used for the sole purpose of protecting others. And they never failed. They would always cleave through the forces of evil and restore the world to its rightful, peaceful state. Even if it meant putting their own lives at risk.

And it was her duty to do the same.

She couldn't run.

She had to fight.

Nell was severely lacking in experience. She barely qualified as a hero. And she definitely lacked the pride that came with the heroes of old; there were no major achievements to her name.

Still, that didn't change the fact that she was a hero.

She couldn't just sit by and let things be.

So she made herself smile.

The action was so forced that she could feel her mouth cramping up. But she kept the act up nonetheless.

"This is as far as you go." An intrepid grin appeared on her face as she readied herself to bathe her holy blade in blood.

Somewhere between thirty and forty men in black oozed out of the forest. They stood in a semi-circular pattern with their backs to the trees as they stared down the lone warrior that had stayed behind.

"Is this barrier your doing?" The man who appeared to be the squad's commander raised his voice.

"It is," affirmed Nell. "It's a barrier I put a lot of magic into, and it's really hard to break. I'm sure you'd be able to make your way around it if you went far enough, but the others will all have escaped by the time you make it. If you want it out of your way, then you're going to have to kill me.""Well, if I must, then I suppose I will," muttered the commander. His tone was so neutral it was disturbing; it dripped with nothing but indifference. "You heard the girl, men. Kill her."

Every single fiend kicked off the ground and broke into a dash.

And so did Nell.

She didn't bother waiting for them to reach her.

A battlecry erupted from the depths of her throat as she charged straight into enemy lines. She attacked the first man she noticed and tore her blade right through him as she passed him by; she didn't even turn to look at the man whose life she had stolen.

Her second target was the unit's commander. One of her unique skills, Accelerate, kicked in as she boosted straight towards him and drove her weapon into his flank. Her attack contained all the speed and force of a cannonball. And yet, it somehow wasn't fatal. The commander managed to twist his waist just far enough to avoid being slain.

Backup came immediately. A wave of arrows began flying at Nell the moment she had finished swinging her blade. She had no choice but to defend or be pierced by the barrage.

"Bore through my enemies! Sacred Arrow!"

She bobbed and weaved to dodge every single incoming projectile before retaliating in kind and firing off several dozen arrows of light. Unlike her enemies', Nell's aim proved true. Several archers died where they stood, their bodies impaled by shimmering stakes of light.

Daggers, armblades, and other armaments designed for the sake of assassination went on full display as the robed figures drew their weapons. Again, they all charged at her. And again, they failed.

"Hide! Barrier of Concealment!"

She created a veil even darker than the night itself and concealed herself from her foes.

As seasoned killers themselves, the men in black knew that she had yet to leave the space. They didn't know much about the barrier's effects, but they understood that she was still within it. That was why they plunged their blades straight into the darkness without a moments' hesitation.

Only to hit nothing.

It wasn't as if they had guessed wrong. Their instincts were dead on. Nell was still within the barrier. She hadn't phased out of their plane of existence or transported herself elsewhere. She had simply ducked.

She bent her knees and dropped herself low enough to avoid all of their attacks before retaliating with a spinning slash aimed at each man's torso. The sensation of her blade rending flesh travelled up her arms as her face was painted in a fresh coat of sanguine—not that it meant much of anything at all, in her eyes. Again, she didn't so much as cast a glance at the men she slew. With all the power of her Accelerate skill at her back, she kicked off the ground and launched herself at the one man her eyes had been trained on ever since the battle's inception: the enemy commander.

The short-haired swordsman knew that taking his head was her only shot at victory. She was a powerful force. An undeniably powerful force. But they were many, and she was one. It simply wasn't possible for her to thin out their numbers if they continued to coordinate. Her only shot at victory, the only thin sliver of a chance she had, was to mess up their chain of command and take advantage of the ensuing chaos.

Alas, it was not meant to be. The commander had already seen her trick once and survived. It simply wasn't going to work a second time. He raised his dagger and parried her blow perfectly despite the sudden burst of speed that accompanied it. Unfazed, she stepped forward to deliver a heavier, more convincing blow. But she couldn't. The hero's internal alarm suddenly began to blare, so she followed her gut and twisted her neck just in time to avoid an arrow that had come from right behind her.

Her target didn't miss the opening created by her sudden dodge. He managed to graze her shoulder with his dagger despite her best efforts to avoid the obvious, telegraphed strike. It was shallow. Very shallow, but it was still a wound nonetheless. Nell grimaced in pain and retreated as she quickly glanced in the direction that the projectile had come from.

One of the men she had cut down had survived. He was on the ground and bleeding profusely. He was going to die. Period. But he was still a threat. He had the miniature crossbow affixed to his arm trained on her and he was sure to continue firing incessantly like the pest he was if she didn't finish him off—not that she even had the chance to.

"Keep your distance! Stay out of her range!"

Her enemies immediately heeded their boss' order. They backed off, drew their bows, and all fired upon her at once.

Nell tried. She tried as hard as she could. She rolled, dodged, or cut down every incoming projectile she could. But there were too many. It simply wasn't possible for her to block every single projectile. Several arrows pierced her armour and dug into her flesh.

Pain shot through her nervous system.

The agonized screech she let out almost immediately morphed into a battlecry; she knew she couldn't show weakness, so she toughed out the pain and charged straight at the irritating archers assaulting her.

Naturally, their immediate reaction was to begin backing off. But they couldn't match her speed. They were doomed. She dashed into a group of them and delivered a series of fatal blows, each flowing perfectly into the next. Only when she was subject to yet another barrage of arrows did she finally stop attacking. She leapt out of the way, centered her blade, and got ready to fight with her back to the massive barrier behind her.

"Is that all you've got?" she laughed. "You're going to need a lot more men than that if you want to kill me!" Her enemies had formed a semi-circle around her, but Nell put on a daring smile regardless.

"Well… if you insist."

The commander's reaction served as a cue. Enemy reinforcements began pouring out of the forest and taking their places around her. Their numbers were even greater than they had been at the encounter's inception. So many men in black had gathered around her that she didn't even want to begin trying to count them.

"It's too much of a risk to leave you be. You're too dangerous, far more of a concern than the imbeciles we call the wingbearers. Threats like you have to be… eliminated," said the commander in a cold, flat tone. His eyes were narrowed and his gaze was piercing. To Nell, it almost felt as if he was evaluating her very essence and seeing her potential. "This will be where you die."

His words led Nell to reflect on her actions. She had said far too much, and she was about to pay for it in blood. A wry smile appeared on her face. While she knew that her current circumstances were inevitable, she couldn't help but feel as if she was in part responsible for them herself.

***

The battle had already lasted for hours. Literal hours. The night had long passed and the sun had long risen.

Nell's body felt as dull and heavy as lead. None of her limbs listened to her anymore. They wouldn't move the way she wanted them to no matter how hard she pushed. Unlike her opponents, who could take turns attacking in waves, she hadn't had a moment to rest or refuel. She was so hungry that her eyes felt like they were spinning, and her throat was so dry she could feel her skin cracking as she breathed.

To make matters worse, she had lost a lot of blood. Too much. Her stamina slowly drained away as her vital fluids oozed from the multitude of scratches that covered her body. The arrows embedded in her shoulder and flank didn't do much to help the situation either.

Her mana stores had long reached the bottom of the barrel. She only managed to cast the occasional spell because Durandal happened to have its own store of it. As much as she wished otherwise, she knew it wouldn't last. Her holy blade would soon run dry, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Needless to say, her barrier had vanished with the last bit of her magic. That was why she had switched to retreating through the forest as she fought. Fortunately, the enemy had chosen to prioritize her over those she had helped escape. The commander had chosen to dedicate all of his resources to relentlessly chasing her down after coming to the conclusion that she was the larger long-term threat.

Technically speaking, Nell had succeeded. Her friends and the refugees they accompanied were hours away from the men in black. All because of her efforts. That said, it wasn't as if things were really looking all that good for her. The fiends had her driven into a corner. Frankly put, she was screwed.

They had seen all of her tactics. She had crawled through the underbrush, waded through mud, and thrown off her enemies with barriers of concealment and barriers of illusion. And in exhausting her kit, she came to realize that her enemies were specialists. The proficiency with which they tracked her seemed to indicate that they possessed skills capable of aiding them in their pursuit. She couldn't escape. It didn't matter what she did. They would always find her, engage her in a skirmish, and eat away at the tiny bit of stamina she had left. She knew she couldn't hold out for much longer. Her body had hit its limit.

Nell had long lost track of the number of times she had swung her sword. She didn't know how many men she had killed, nor did she remember the amount of time she had bought—not that it mattered. Knowing the metrics associated with her plight wouldn't have changed anything. The same couldn't have been said for knowing the terrain, however.

Because the hero soon found herself staring down a grassy plain.

The trees that she had used to keep herself hidden from her enemies were gone from her field of view. She had reached the edge of the forest. The long game of cat and mouse she had been engaged in had come to an end.

"You've certainly wasted quite a good bit of my time."

Spinning around, Nell found herself staring down the enemy commander, the man who had ordered his underlings to chase her to the point of creating trauma. She took up a stance with her blade as soon as she saw him, but she was too late. One of the men in black slugged her in the gut before she could truly ready the weapon.

It was a solid hit, one that hurt so bad she felt her consciousness grow hazy. Before she could recover, she was hit again. A second man ran up to her while she was still bent over and kicked her holy sword right out of her hand. Under normal circumstances, she never would have let such a thing happen, but she simply didn't have the strength or stamina to keep a good grip on her sword when she was as exhausted as she was.

Rather than finishing her with his blade, the fiend followed up his attack by grabbing her now empty hands and violently pulling them behind her. He then kicked her in the back of her knees and forced them to buckle before presenting her to his commander.

"Let me guess…" Nell said between heavy pants. If looks could kill, hers would have finished off the enemy's leader in an instant. "You're going to beat me up… and make me look as miserable as you can… before killing me in front of my companions… Just to make an example out of me."

"Well, we certainly will hurt you. You've given us quite a lot of trouble, so I'd say that it's only fair. As for killing you? I happen to have other plans," said the commander. "Chasing you around for as long as I have has given me a bit of a… change of heart. You see, I happen to like women like you."

"Well, I hate men like you," said Nell.

The man didn't mind the fact that Nell had spat an insult at him. In fact, her act of defiance led him to squat down in front of her with the lewdest of grins plastered all over his face.

"Yes, yes, that's exactly it! That unwavering attitude! That unbreakable resolve!" he said, ecstatically. "I can't wait to take you back to my manor and… reeducate you. You can fight back all you want. It won't change a thing. I'll drill my teachings into your body. And soon, soon, I'll break you in. You'll be shaking those hips of yours and begging me for what I want before you know it."

A series of chills ran down Nell's spine as the man tenderly stroked her cheek with his fingers. She felt as if she was being caressed by an insect; his fingers were more feelers than they were digits. Driven by a sense of absolute revulsion, she glared at him with renewed vigour.

"Besides, you've killed quite a number of my men. I can see that you're quite the fighter. Throwing all that talent away would be nothing short of wasteful, don't you think?" he asked. "Well, what do you say? Spread your legs and wag your tail for me, and I'll let you live a life of ecstasy."

The commander grabbed Nell's jaw and slowly raised it such that she was looking right into his eyes. Almost as if by reflex, she opened her mouth to scream in refusal, but she stopped right before she did. She swallowed her words, silenced her emotions, and began speaking in a steady, neutral tone.

"If I say yes… will you let my friends go free?"

"Why, of course I would." The man flashed a conman's smile before continuing in a tone that screamed he was lying at the top of his lungs. "I don't care what happens to them anymore. You're all that matters. Say yes, and I'll let them go free."

"I see…"

The hero twisted her lips into a frown, as if to express that she was in the midst of contemplation. She let the stiffness leave her muscles in order to express that she was no longer thinking of resisting.

Naturally, the man standing behind her also loosened up; he relaxed the grip he had on her arms.

He fell for the act. Everyone fell for the act.

The moment the fiends lowered their guards was the moment she acted. She wrenched her arms free and drew the blade hanging from her waist. Her first target was the commander. Her blade tore right through the hand he had on her chin and cut his wrist clean off.

Next, she attacked the person that had been responsible for holding her down. She cut off both his arms before mustering up just enough strength to leap away. The weapon she had in her right hand was not Durandal. It was Lunar Blossom, her side arm. The dagger he had given her. She had carried it on her person ever since it was first gifted to her. Back then, Nell had known little to nothing about daggers and their usage. Now, however, things were different. She had put herself through an extensive amount of training in order to ensure that she was worthy of the blade. The hero had not only acquired the dagger mastery skill, but also raised it all the way to its third level in the span of roughly a month.

Her proficiency could be seen through her stance. The reverse grip she held her blade in brimmed with confidence.

"I refuse! I'd rather fight to my last breath than join the likes of you!" The commander had promised that he wouldn't hunt down her companions, but she knew not to trust him. The chance of him following through on the agreement was less than that of a monkey with a pen accidentally reproducing a famous piece of literature

She had only momentarily played along with his ruse in order to buy just one extra moment in hopes that it would raise her allies' chances.

"Fine! Then lament your choices as you die!" shouted the commander. "Men, capture her! Do whatever it takes! Don't let her escape, and don't let her off with an easy death! Make her feel pain, suffering, and humiliation! Carve the meaning of disgrace into her body as you drain her blood and turn her into a lifeless corpse!"

A sense of impending doom assaulted Nell as she watched the man bark out orders while nursing his wrist. Chances were, she was going to die. She had been on the verge of death for quite some time, but now, it was finally going to really happen. It was a discouraging thought. But Nell didn't give up. She was more than willing to offer herself up and fight to the death if her sacrifice brought her friends safe passage.

The brown-haired swordsman had never amounted to much of a hero. She was just an ordinary girl that happened to have been shoved into the role, and she lacked the experience necessary to perform it. Still, she was satisfied. Because her last act would finally make her worthy of her title.

While it was unfortunate that she never did get to see Yuki again, she knew that he would be able to take her place. That he would protect everyone in her stead. That, unlike her, he would unconditionally succeed.

He always seemed nonchalant, unconcerned with the events happening around him. Even so, he would always invest his energies into helping those that needed it. He would reach out to those that needed it most and startle them with aid that they had never expected.

Thinking of him, remembering him, brought a smile to her face.

Her enemies were drawing closer. Looking around prompted a mix of emotions to swell within her.

Fear.

Anguish.

Anxiety.

Concern.

Rage.

Sorrow.

And the indomitable desire to crush her foes.

Again, they drew closer.

So Nell roared. She bellowed at the top of her lungs to express all of the emotions raging within her as she readied herself for her final confrontation.

A confrontation that would never happen.

Something approached from the air. It cut through the air at an incredible speed and caused the earth to tremble as it descended upon the grassy plain. There was a powerful shockwave; the force of its high speed landing kicked up a massive cloud of dust. Reflexively, she brought up her arms to shield her face from it.

Likewise, the men approaching her had also defended their eyes from the dust. But they had failed to resist the shockwave. The force of the impact had sent them tumbling through the air.

Looking through the gaps in her arms, she noticed a humanoid silhouette within the dust cloud.

"Hey Nell. What's up?" She was greeted by a familiar voice. One that she had eagerly looked forward to hearing. One belonging to the man that had occupied her thoughts on her deathbed.

As the dust cleared, her eyes confirmed what her ears had told her.

He had finally come for her.

"Geez. You're so late!" Her eyes dampened, and her lips warped into a bit of a pout as she complained at him in a voice filled with heartfelt emotion.