Chapter 8: Back to the Flames

There’s something poetic about walking into the same town that once told you to leave and never come back. Crimsonreach looked the same as ever—smoke curling out of forge stacks, the scent of soot and sweat dancing through the air like overworked blacksmiths. It was a place where blades were made and spirits were broken. Welcome home, I guess.

I adjusted the threadbare cloak around my shoulders. It didn’t help against the biting wind or the sting of memory, but it gave my hands something to do. People didn’t recognize me, which was either a testament to their poor memory or a confirmation that I really had been that irrelevant.

“Hey, watch it, kid.”

A bulky woman shoved past me, iron gauntlets clinking against her leather belt. Adventurers strode these roads like they owned the continent. Technically, in Gaianthra—a matriarchal society—they kind of did. Queens, priestesses, beast tamers… all of them women with power, confidence, and a serious superiority complex.

And me? I was the ghost of someone they’d already erased.

The only thing clinging to me was Seras, coiled loosely around my shoulder under the cloak. She'd gone quiet, her red scales dimmed to a dull glimmer, as if even she knew how awkward it would be to start whispering sweet things while I stood in front of a stall trying to buy underpants.

[System Notification: Local Affinity Check: Passive Skills active.]

> > [Taming Aura Lv. 1] — Active [Divine Presence (Females 30+)] — Active

Oh great. Just what I needed—more moms looking at me like I was a lost puppy they wanted to both adopt and... do unmotherly things to.

"Hey there, young man," purred a voice.

Speak of the devil.

A merchant woman leaned over her counter just a little too far, her assets casually defying gravity and common decency.

“You looking for armor? Or maybe something… closer to the skin?”

She winked.

“…Do you sell daggers?” I asked, looking pointedly at the weapons rack.

"Depends. Are you the kind who likes it fast and sharp?"

Seras stirred. "She’s flirting with you," she said in my head, dryly amused. “You're unusually popular today.”

“It’s the system. I’m cursed,” I muttered back.

I grabbed a basic short sword and a worn leather tunic. Nothing fancy. No enchantments. Just something to make me look slightly less like a homeless ex-party member with a grudge.

The merchant leaned in. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

Nope. Definitely not. Unless you were there the day I got exiled by the elite Hero Party of Gaianthra, thrown out like a mistake they didn’t want to admit they made.

"No," I said simply.

She tilted her head. “Well, you’ve got the kind of face that sticks.”

Yeah. Like gum under a table.

I paid in silence and left before her fingers could “accidentally” brush mine again.

---

As I wandered deeper into Crimsonreach, I caught whispers.

“Didn’t that loser die in the Ravine of No Return?”

“I heard he was eaten by beasts. Rein herself said it.”

“Wait, wasn’t he the one who couldn’t even tame a slime?”

I smiled bitterly. Good to know my reputation was intact.

The city’s bulletin board confirmed the worst: the Hero Party had moved to the northern fortress. Rein, Misa, Leela, and Zoldack were now publicly hailed as the Four Pillars of the New Age.

My name? Not even a footnote.

I didn’t belong in their shining epic of victory.

I belonged in the margins. The stain they crossed out with divine ink.

---

That night, I slept in a hayloft above a drunk stablemaster’s barn. The stars flickered through broken beams in the roof. Seras curled on my chest, warm and rhythmic like a heartbeat I never knew I needed.

“Why do you look so calm?” I asked.

“You’re alive. That’s a miracle enough,” she replied.

A pause.

“Also, the system’s feeding me passive boosts through our bond. My scales have never been glossier.”

Great. I had a narcissistic snake goddess for a companion.

I closed my eyes.

---

The next morning, the rumor finally reached the right ears.

Inside a lavish manor on Crimsonreach’s upper side, Leela sipped tea with her legs crossed. A maid whispered something into her ear.

She froze.

“…He’s alive?”

Rein laughed it off when Leela brought it up.

“He won’t last a week. Don’t worry. A cockroach doesn’t become a dragon just because it found a shiny scale.”

But something in Leela’s eyes flickered. Doubt? Regret? Nostalgia?

No. Couldn’t be. They’d all made their choice. They tossed me away.

And I would never let them forget it.

---

I returned to the weapon stall later that afternoon. The merchant woman had set aside a red-threaded sash “just for me.” Because of course she did.

As I reached for it, her hand brushed mine again.

[System Alert: New Affinity Path Discovered!]

> > Candidate: Mirna Helios — Age 37 Affinity Triggered: “Nurturing Flame (Passive)” Relationship Route: LOCKED (Memory Core Unavailable)

...Huh?

"You're burning up, sweetheart," she said, smirking. “You okay?”

“I think I just unlocked a cursed visual novel route,” I muttered.

"What's that?"

“Nothing.”

The memory core again. The system kept hinting that I was missing something. A past I didn’t remember. A bond buried beneath layers of trauma and time.

“You’ve got someone looking out for you, don’t you?” the merchant asked, voice softer now.

“…Yeah. I think I do.”

I looked up at the sky.

Athenra. Seras. The serpent goddess sleeping inside my blood. The whispers of a legacy I wasn’t supposed to inherit.

Whatever they thought of me, whatever the Hero Party wanted me to be—trash, failure, footnote—I wasn’t that anymore.

I wasn’t sure what I was becoming.

But I knew they wouldn’t be ready for it.

---