Chapter 1: A Tricky Hero

AN: [-] Thought Bubbles

"What makes a hero? Is it their kindness? Vigilance? Determination? Or spirit?

Who knows really. However, in this world the hero is nothing, but a threat. An aristocrat who uses his wealth and power to influence many of those around him.

He destroys and he plunders, his public image is that of a hero, but it's just a facade.

I know his true identity…

He's the demon king!"

The brat's name was Trick Kidd, but everyone called him Tricky. He's scrawny, skinny, and maybe a bit too short, but he wasn't weak by any means. Moderate strength, above average agility and absurd amounts of luck.

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard all day Tricky!"

This, right here is his friend. His name was Glove Hearfield, everyone just calls him Glove.

He's a bit round and plumpy, however he wasn't too fat. He's just a bit chubby and he has a slight flab, however underneath all that was an enormous amount of muscle.

To Tricky, he was his right hand.

And his best friend.

"Oi, come on now Glove! Don't you think it'd make an interesting story?"

The two right now were currently sitting underneath a large oak tree. The wind was mild, the sun was hot, but the clouds and trees covered the heat.

It was a perfect day for them to discuss their hobbies. Telling and writing stories about...

Adventures and the sort.

"The plot sounds stupid! Why not a more heroic story, like saving a captured princess or saving a kingdom from the demon king!"

The two were enthralled by books and imagined themselves to either be the hero or the villain. The two often found themselves in the library of the castle reading.

Each and everyday they sifted through hundreds of stories. From demons then to heroes. From wars and even history.

They were enthralled by the magical world and it's adventurous possibilities. It was addicting.

"Haha! Ay, now Glove. Why would a generic story like that be read when there's millions of the same thing floating around everywhere!"

"You're not one to talk too Tricky! The 'hero turned out to be a demon king,' how original, hahaha!"

However, sadly, fast forward ten years later. In a distraught land, underneath a large burnt oak tree.

"Oi, Glove. You know how the story ends."

Glove was laughing maniacally. His eyes were bloody red. He had massive horns protruding from his skull, and he wore a glorious crown. He was in the essence a demon and a king.

"You don't even care to listen to me anymore do ya' Glove."

Glove with his massive, iron slab, that was too big to be called a sword and that was too heavy to wield.

He swung it easily with an extreme amount of force that made even the wind cackle.

"Oi! Oi! Oi! You might hit me with that big ol' thing!"

Tricky quickly jumped back and slyly moved his fingers, he delicately controlled a multitude of strings.

"Sorry ol' pal, but this might hurt."

Tricky then pulled and tensioned the strings by tightening his grip into a fist.

Suddenly good ol' Glove was wrapped head to toe in string. He wriggled and moved, but was unable to break free.

"We were fighting for a long time, man. Not only are you exhausted, but those strings have been enchanted and blessed. Sorry to say, but it looks like I won this time, ol' pal."

And with a single twist and curl from Tricky's fingers and fists.

"String Art: Coffin."

The string dug deep into the tissue and severed every inch of flesh, bone, and muscle completely killing Glove. Blood was oozing out from the coffin made of string.

"I never craved to play the hero in our story. It was usually you ya' know."

Afterward.

Tricky found himself in a state of unbearable regret and sadness. Along with the rain, his tears wouldn't stop pouring.

Now, currently, a day later.

The king announced an award ceremony for the returning hero.

And the king was a fastidious old man. In his eyes, nothing can be short of perfect. From the food, to the decoration, and to the awards.

The king guided the hero through the cheering crowds and had him walk atop a platform to meet face to face with a giant award that stood next to him.

"Welcome back our hero!" The king gallantly raised his sword in the air, his knights and personal servants followed suit.

"Trick Kidd!"

The crowd roared even louder than before. They all repeated the name, "Trick!" "Trick!" "Trick!"

"He's a hero! A Saint! Trick Kidd!" The king chanted.

The king then walked towards the platform and towards the covered award that stood next to Tricky.

Anyone could tell that underneath the large cloth was a statue.

The king hastily pulled the cloth off to reveal the never seen before award.

"In honor of the hero! This statue will be dedicated to him! To remember his prestige and valiant battles, his wins and victories against all those evil!"

The gold statue was of Tricky holding a sword in the air. It was unlike Tricky to use a sword, but in this context it seemed suitable.

The king then slowly walked towards Tricky. He shook his hand and asked him to say a few words to the crowd, no, to the world.

Tricky turned his head to the masses, but he couldn't say a word. He was emotionless and so still that crowd's energy slowly started fading.

"Why isn't he saying anything?" The crowd started muttering.

The king was confused as well and was insisting Tricky to say a word or two.

However, Tricky was just thinking.

[All these people. I wonder how many of them cowered behind these walls. My friends, my family were all dead. So what's with all this cheering?]

Tricky's mouth was then finally moving. Everyone waited in anticipation.

"I… Sorry…"

And under the guise of smoke. The hero had vanished that day and the calendars were marked.

The funny thing was, Tricky was only eighteen and in the span of a little over a decade so much shit had happened to him.

From war, death, and despair came a life that felt really unbearable to him.

Now, he only ever felt peace when he was isolated and secluded in the dark forests of the elven region.

No one knows his whereabouts, not even the elves who had the forest memorized from every leaf to leaf.

He stayed within the cloaked wooden walls of his cozy little cottage.

When he had the time he began to fall back onto his old hobbies. Writing was one of them.

"What to write… I can write up some good ol' magic. Maybe write a scroll of my 'mystical string art' hehe… Or maybe I can just write a fairy tale."

He had many options to choose from and he had all the time in the world, literally all the time.

Unbeknownst to him. Killing a demon king has some unforeseen side effects.

He hadn't realized it, but in one thousand years. He'd finally realize after leaving his cottage for the first time.

That he hadn't aged at all.

"Hmm… How long have I been here."

Tricky's sense of time felt altered.

"I wonder…"

Tricky opened the door and stepped out for the first time.

The forest looked almost the same. However, Tricky noticed the new fauna and greenery everywhere. Vines covered the floor and the exterior of his home.

"What the?"

Tricky walked around the dark forest, but luckily with his enchanted eyes he could see in the dark.

"The forest seems a lot more… uh… bigger than the last time I remember."

Tricky continued walking forward until he found the ol' path he used to walk on.

"The path looks so… beaten."

He followed the beaten path towards the elven kingdom while wondering where the elves were as he went.

"W-What… the… hell… happened."

The luscious Elven Kingdom that had been prosperous. That had technology, color, art, and buildings that were unrivaled by others, was destroyed.

The kingdom's towers had collapsed, it's large gates were rammed open. Large craters and remnants of battles were the only thing left that Tricky could see.

The rest had been eaten up by nature over time.

"How…"

Then this time it really clicked inside his mind.

"How long have I been inside? Wait, how am I still alive?"

Tricky then ran off away from the kingdom, he was hurriedly rushing towards something.

From the thick and thin, past the shrubs and trees, the branches and leaves.

He stepped out for the first time from the forest and into the plains of a new world.

Tricky also found himself feeling his legs, arms, and even his face.

"I haven't aged a day…" His eyes started gleaming with a newfound purpose.

He was hopeful. If this was a new day, month, year, age, or era then maybe he could enjoy a new different life.

A true and final rest, that's all he wants.