Fearless

~~~⚔️~~~

Rei had never thought that punching someone could feel so real.

But that’s exactly how it felt when he stepped forward, blinded by rage, to teach that pirate a lesson for picking on a defenseless child.

“Eh? And just who do yo—”

The punch was clumsy. More instinct than technique. The pirate staggered backward from the impact, surprised, but didn't fall. Rei felt the sting in his knuckles before he saw the man's expression: first confusion, then fury. Like punching a stone wall and watching it react like a predator.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, idiot? Want me to tear you apart?” growled the pirate. His voice rough and salty, typical of sea bandits.

“Shut up, you scum!” Rei shot back, doubling down. “You’ll think twice before hitting an innocent kid again!”

For a moment, silence fell. Passersby at the port had stopped in place. The child had stopped crying, as if witnessing his savior. Even the sea seemed to pause. The horses pawed nervously at the broken planks, but their three riders stood frozen in disbelief.

“Rei… are you insane?” Nessus whispered.

“Get back here!” Leonoris added sharply.

“You’re dead, you little shit!”

It was too late to turn back. Within seconds, half a dozen pirates had surrounded Rei menacingly. Yet his will remained firm, despite the danger. Something inside him was changing.

Then he heard a whistle. Not random—no, it carried a distinct melody that everyone around seemed to recognize. The tune’s power made the pirates take several steps back. Perhaps, unfortunately, leaving Rei more exposed.

“Well, well… looks like some idiot’s gotten himself into trouble.”

Leonoris felt her heart stop at the sound of that voice. Nessus and Ettor instantly focused on the young Hero, who now stood face-to-face—just a few steps away—with the man they had mentioned only seconds earlier.

Drey Malbrine, pirate sub-captain.

Tall, broad shoulders. Long white hair braided back. A scar crossing his right eyelid. Sea-leather coat over black uniform with red details with a short black cape. Rings on every finger. And to top everything, a crooked smile that showed how much he enjoyed the fear he caused.

“Eh?” He raised an eyebrow, always with disdain. “Hey, kid, you should head home. Don’t get involved in things that aren’t your business.”

“Kid,” he had said—probably to provoke him. It didn’t take long to get a reaction.

“Malbrine, huh?” Rei tensed, glaring at him. “So you’re the one sending people to raid Kounaria? You’re filth!”

Malbrine’s eyes widened slightly—though not as much as the three Lightbearers’. He looked surprised, yet never dropped the thug’s smirk.

And then, he laughed. It wasn’t a loud laugh, but a twisted, mocking chuckle. Just a vibration of contempt in his throat.

“I don’t think you get it, kid.”

In one swift motion, Malbrine drew a pistol and pointed it at Rei, prompting muffled gasps from the bystanders.

“No!” Leonoris whispered, while the other two remained silent, knowing there wasn’t much they could do.

Rei flinched. The pirate truly was scum—he couldn’t even fight cleanly. And then he noticed something odd about the weapon. It was smaller, plated with shiny metals. Different, yet unmistakably similar to the one that had…

…pointed at him. Fired at the balance that struck his head. Killed Gorō.

The world began to spin again. And just like the wolf before, Malbrine noticed it. He laughed—and stepped closer.

Rei barely reacted before a fist slammed into his stomach. The air left his lungs in a rush, and he dropped to his knees, coughing, gasping for breath.

“Think you’re brave, land scum?” snarled that twisted voice. Heavy footsteps approached across creaking wood.

Rei tried to stand, but the next thing he saw was a boot smashing into his face. The blow flung him into a pile of fishing nets. The world spun as blood dripped from his mouth.

“Stop!” Leonoris shouted—but no one moved. Not even the soldiers stationed on the wall.

Rei, on the ground, gasped for air. His vision trembled. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leap from his chest. He had to find the strength...

“Look at this toy, little one!”

The pirate’s gun pressed against Rei’s chin. Malbrine’s smile widened as he watched the boy’s eyes dart between the pistol and his face.

“You know… I’d like it to hurt, so you’d learn something. But maybe I’ll just kill you now. Got places to be.”

Rei was terrified. But it wasn’t just fear—it was something deeper. His mind was clouded with memories, paralyzing his limbs and thoughts. He was reliving the workshop. The explosion. The embrace. The sound of the gunshot.

“Not again. Not again. I don’t want to die again. Gorō… Gorō…”

“That’s enough!” Ettor’s voice rang out. He leapt from his horse, his tone burning with authority, his eyes with fire. “Take what you came for and leave.”

“Oh?” The pirate turned toward him, Ettor now standing with his hand on his sword hilt. Though he knew he couldn’t draw it. “Don’t tell me this one’s with you?”

Ettor didn’t answer—he just stared him down. Drey spat on the ground, then looked at him as if weighing what more he could get away with.

“Tch. Fine. But for the trouble…” He turned toward the dock and pointed to a small fishing boat with red nets and handcrafted oars. The man guarding it, a fisherman in his forties, went pale.

“No, please, it’s my life, my only income,” the man begged.

Malbrine didn’t listen. His crew shoved the old man aside and boarded the boat, cutting its moorings. Not before ransacking it—rods, fish, coats—all thrown into the sea.

Three men sailed away in the little boat while Malbrine boarded the grand galleon behind him. Its name was carved into the deck: South Specter.

“It’s been a productive day, Luminas. See you soon!” he laughed, as a deep hum rose from within the ship. Violet light pulsed along the hull, propelling it toward the open sea.

Silence fell like a dagger across the docks as they watched the small boats drift away, and the massive galleon rise into the sky like an airplane.

The fisherman approached Ettor, trembling—part in fear, part in rage.

“Why did you let them take my boat?! You’re the royal guard! You promised us protection! We’re your people!”

Ettor looked at him firmly. He didn’t respond at first. Then he stepped forward and said in a calm voice:

“I wanted to stop them. But if we acted at the wrong moment, they would’ve taken the whole port. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?!” the man shouted, not even letting Ettor finish. “Can’t you see the port?! They raid us all the time and you do nothing!”

Rei could barely stand. His mouth and stomach throbbed, and he was still dizzy. But instantly, he saw Ettor’s expression as he faced the fisherman. The knight didn’t say a word—he couldn’t.

It was shame. That’s what it was.

“We’re truly sorry!”

Leonoris appeared behind them, still hooded, and bowed deeply. Then again. And again. For a long while.

“We’re sorry! Truly sorry, sir!”

Her voice cracked with pain. Each word carried helplessness—but also a plea for understanding. It was as if her soul itself was apologizing for living in a world where justice was broken.

Meanwhile, Nessus was helping the young boy and the others recover. His hands and clothes were covered in mud, far from what one might expect of a royal heir.

The port was drenched in despair. But the worst came after.

“That cloak…”

A whisper barely audible cut through the tension. Rei almost didn't hear it. His body shook. Vision blurred. Warm blood dripping down his neck. His Hero of Solaria cloak—once perfect—was dust-stained. The sun brooch hung crooked. The whisper spread fast. All eyes turned to him.

The murmur spread like a spark through dry hay, and all eyes turned to him.

“No way…” someone muttered, disbelief in their voice.

“Is that the Hero of Solaria’s cloak?” a woman gasped, stepping back from that blasphemy.

“Is that the Hero?!”

“They just beat him up…”

Faces drew near—some full of doubt, some pity, others disbelief. People who had prayed to the Goddess for a sign. And now that sign stood barely upright, mouth bleeding, eyes sunken in shock. Disheveled, dusty, dirty, and afraid.

And still—they looked at him.

Not as a beaten youth. Not as a confused outsider.

They looked at him as their Hero.

And that hurt more than the beating.

It hurt knowing he was already starting to fail them.