A Hero Who Isn't A Hero

The whispers increased—contrary to his expectations—as he entered the Hall, a large bag dragged behind him and his sword strapped by his waist. Sharen tried to ignore the attention but it proved difficult. He now realised, though he had known long ago, that the people now regarded him as some sort of hero.

What sort of hero? He didn't dare think of it. However the people liked to idolize him was not his concern. If anything, he had worked hard all his life to always go unnoticed whenever he was among a crowd. It appeared that his efforts had yielded the opposite results.

He walked forward—holding a nonchalant expression—amidst the chattering that had now risen to the volume of a buzzing of a colony of bees. His boots thumped against the wooden floor of the Hall as he walked towards the large table at the front.

"The Survivor is back!"

"He has slain the beast already?"

"How can we not rest easy knowing he's watching over us?"

"Even Khlatus will be shaking in its boots in his presence!"

Sharen cringed at the last comment. As indifferent as he made himself out to be, he still had a certain level of fear whenever the name of the dreaded and dangerous Haklaran spawner was mentioned. This dreaded ancient, magical artefact that gave life to the beasts that plagued the land.

He felt that the regard in which the people held him was much exaggerated. He was no hero—of that he was sure of. He was just a bitter boy who had sworn to avenge his family and had begun searching for Khlatus.

However, after years of searching, he hadn't found a clue to the location of the artefact. This made him conclude—half-heartedly—that the stories of the artefact were false. No one has seen it or felt it before.

Sharen pulled a chair, sitting in front of the table while pretending to be unaware of the continuous praises that was being poured out on him by the people in the Hall. It was mid-afternoon and the Hall—being a place where missions, especially hunting missions, were issued and accepted—was bound to be packed full.

"I trust your mission was a success?" A hand pushed a jug of wine towards Sharen, the slightly red liquor swirling as it was pushed over.

Sharen smiled not looking up. He reached down and grabbed his large leather bag which he had dragged in under the full weight of its content. He slammed the bag on the table, agitating the jug of wine further. "This is how successful it was, Khlen."

The man rubbed his grizzled beard. Sharen didn't look up, yet he could imagine the man's expression as he pulled the leather bag, revealing the large, horned head of the Haklaran he had slaughtered two days before in Zejar forest.

"That's a big kill, Sharen!"

Sharen nodded, slurping down the wine without bothering to ask for a mug. "The mission is complete. Where is my payment?"

The slight hesitance from Khlen made Sharen look up, into the man's eyes. He was rubbing his neck slightly and he could read the apprehension in his eyes. "Your payment is ready but I would like to ask you a question, Sharen."

Sharen paused. It was unusual for the people in the Hall to want to ask questions especially those in the hunters' guild like Khlen yet, Sharen nodded. He felt he had come to know the man at a more personal level than others.

"Have you ever considered hunting for Samak for free?" the question was thrown with a grimace.

Sharen dropped the jug, sighing. "I hunt for the money."

Khlen nodded but held up a finger. "I realise that but it's just that lately the people of Samak have started holding you in high regards. They consider you as a hero and I thought it would be nice if you could give them more hope by offering your services for free."

Sharen was amused yet unimpressed. "There is no hope—and everyone knows that. Not for Samak, not for Ramary."

Khlen chuckled, wiping his forehead as he sat back on his chair on the opposite side of the table. "See, the Holy Emperor can protect Ramary."

Sharen smiled, pulling the jug of wine again. "If the emperor cared about his country that much then why isn't he protecting Samak? Why didn't he protect Dulhe?"

The memories of his homeland flooded his mind, making him snap in the inside. He was barely a child when he had to watch as Dulhe—his own home—went down in a blaze of ashes and decay. The Haklarans had really aimed well.

Forcing himself to push the thoughts aside, he then said, "What emperor doesn't try to stop the Khlatus?"

"It doesn't change the fact that Samak now looks up to you as a hero who can protect the people."

"Too bad," Sharen sighed, shaking his head too. "The people of Samak will have to find a new hero. I'm leaving soon."

Khlen's eyes flew wide open in horror as if he had heard the worst news. His reaction was expected. Ever since he arrived in Samak, he had treated the village as his home and had never thought of leaving. His decision surprised him too yet he knew it was the only option.

"Where will you go?" Khlen asked, his voice low and pained.

Sharen shook his head. "I'm not sure but I'll probably land in Kae mountains."

Khlen took a deep breath and changed the topic. "Why do you hunt then?"

Why do I hunt? I hunt for the full weight of Lars in my pocket. I hunt because I want revenge. I hunt because…it is the right thing to do. He, however, said to Khlen, "I hunt because I love the pay. I love the thrill."

Khlen nodded then slammed a pouch down on the table. "That's your pay, mate. 200 Lars."

Sharen took it and pocketed it without counting. "I trust you."

Khlen nodded, turning his focus to the Haklaran head that lay on the table. "How hard was it to kill this thing?"

"Not hard," he tipped the jug of wine. "As a hunter you should know."

Khlen chuckled. "I am an ordinary hunter but you—my friend—have been blessed by the gods. These things are getting increasingly powerful and difficult to kill."

"It was only three years old."

"The drink's on me." Khlen smiled.

Sharen nodded, then he pushed forward the yellow crystal he had obtained from the beast. "Here, you can sell this to whoever needs it."

He was well past the level of yellow crystal yet he knew that others would need it. The world needed all the hunters—magical ones—it could get.

He turned his attention away from Khlen and started planning on how to spend his Lars. The coins weighed heavily in his pocket but he knew that no one in Samak would try robbing him—they respected him too much for that.

….

Sharen was sure that someone was following him and his confirmation came when the system announced the presence of someone else in the dark alley. He sighed, turning to the side and waiting. It was slightly dark and his figure was blurred from normal vision.

He waited as the evening breeze brushed against his face. A figure turned the corner as well, searching cautiously. He was disappointed to realise that someone would, in the end, try to rob him. 'No matter how much they respect me,' he thought. 'They will not always be good.'

He whipped out his sword, letting it burst out in yellow flames, almost slicing the figure's face. The person yelped then jumped aside. Sharen stepped forward, casting a light spell that illuminated the alley in brilliant light.

It was a boy. He looked frightened and innocent. The boy quickly raised his hands, eyes shut tight as he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I'm not a bad person!"

Sharen let the tip of his sword touch his jaw slightly. A way to reinforce that he wouldn't hesitate to slaughter him. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Fryssel, I'm a merchant's son!" the boy said, slightly opening one eye. "I want to follow you and become your apprentice! You've inspired me a lot."

Sharen frowned then sheathed his sword. He turned away from the boy. "Go home, kid. I don't take students."

"But…"

"Follow me," Sharen let his eyes burn yellow then the light spell was snuffed out, leaving the alley dark. Only his yellowish eyes were visible. "Then I will kill you!"

He jumped, angling himself towards the wall. He rushed up, using an air spell to keep himself slightly afloat. From the corner of his eyes, he could still see the boy leaning against the wall, fear etched over his face.