Scars are a hero's pride, so I wonder, why aren't you proud?

The difference in reception was astonishing, that was true from the start. But even then, it became even more starkly obvious when I met my first person from the city.

And it was the same one that hit me in the face to knock me out and bring me here, in the first place.

“Look at it, I told ya I found the sacrifice didn’t I?” Said the scarred asshole while entering the door, accompanied by a very stern looking man.

The man looked like a war veteran. The wrinkles over his eyebrows were built like bricks. His face as a whole reminded me of a stone golem from a fantasy RPG. In an human, that was the face of someone who had spent the last twenty years of their life without smiling even once.

His attire, or more like a uniform, was impeccable. It reminded me of the garments Euryce used, but his were pristine. The designs were intricate, handwoven, and shone everywhere.

Overall, he looked like the kind of extremely important person I feel I really should not be meeting, for my own well being.

He examined me up and down with his look.

“He certainly looks like one.” The golem man said, with an extremely deep voice. He looked very unimpressed.

“See? I told ya. And most important, there was a reward for capturing him, wasn’t it?” The scarred man said, nudging the golem man slightly.

Now he looked slightly more unimpressed.

“Of course, a valiant hero deserves a just reward. Just tell me something first. Where did you find him?” Said the golem man, turning around to look at the scarred one.

“Huh… you see, he was near the village.” Said the scarred man, turning around, getting more nervous by the second.

“You see, because I got a report from the frontal forces that said that someone had skipped the call for action. That someone took the excuse of going for water and instead shirked their duties to take a rest in the drinking pond.” Said the golem man, taking a step forward for every step back the scarred man gave.

“I… heard nothing of the sort sir. I promise. I did go to the pond, but I was not shirking my duty, sir.” Said the scarred man, now with his back to the wall.

“That’s great to know. See, you are probably fully aware of it, but the punishment for escaping your duty of battle IS execution. Whoever cowardly buffoon chose to run before the fight would probably be thrown into the same cell this pipsqueak is going into. If all of that happened to be true, of course.” Finished the golem man, joining his, very callousy and rough, hands together.

“Of course sir, I understand sir.” Said the scarred man, standing completely firm, like a soldier.

“Now, don’t be so worried about it. After all, you are a hero aren’t you? you surely have the scars to prove it. Just look at that furious red streak going up your chest. I heard the little Lyra did that to you. Didn’t she?” Said the golem man, his admonishment now turning into derision.

The scarred man could only keep looking forward. A vein marking in his neck, he was furious.

“I’m sure that little girl was all a challenge to fight. She’s so big and experienced after all, right? I’m sure she had the best weaponry available, and the element of surprise too. No wonder she got the best of someone like you.” He said, almost cackling now, laughing at the scarred man.

“If I were you, maybe I would have thought of escaping to the pond. Maybe I would have been too scared of seeing her again, I wouldn’t want her going for my neck next, right?” He said, giving a light punch to the scarred man’s arm.

I could almost see the veins in his forehead pulsating. His face was becoming red with anger.

But he could do nothing about it. The man in front of him outranked him too highly.

“Now, it is incredibly fortunate you are not a coward like that. That you did not shirk your duties and that you are a hero that captured this, obviously very elusive prey, right?” He finished, pointing at me.

“Now, guide the prisoner to his cell, and if you still feel like talking about your reward later, we can talk. Hmm?” The golem man finished, all derision and laughter gone, leaving behind the eternal frown he had before.

He walked out the door without saying anything else.

The scarred man was tweaking in place. Moments after the man left, he turned around and punched the wall behind him, then again, and again. I could see the blood on his knuckles from how hard he was hitting it.

Then he turned around and saw me.

“What are you looking at, you piece of shit!” Said the scarred man, grabbing me by the shirt, raising me into the air. The binding ropes pressing all my limbs as he did.

I groaned in pain.

“You think that hurts, huh?!” The scarred man said, bringing out a green knife. The same one I had with me when I got captured.

“You see, it is right. Your little bitch of a friend left me this mark as a parting gift. And as much as I would like to pay it back to her right now, I don’t see her around. Right?” He said, caressing me with the knife.

I could already see where this was going, and I did not like it at all.

“So, how about you take one for the team, and take this one with you? I will even give her an extra one! I cut you down now, and I’ll also cut her later. How about it?!” He said, bringing me centimeters away from his face.

I was trying to beg him to stop, but the pain in my limbs prevented me from saying any actual words.

Finally, the man, skillfully, with high precision, swung the knife towards me. I could feel how my flesh separated in two, before the pain and blood came right after. I screamed falling to the floor. I brought my hands to my chest, trying to stop the blood.

“No, no no. Get your hands out of there, you are going to need them.” He said, kicking my hands away before slashing in the other direction, engraving an X right under my neck. A second spurt of blood came out as I screamed even higher, my voice cracking from the effort.

“Now… Now I feel a lot better!”

The scarred man let out a sigh of relief. He was smiling, satisfied like he had accomplished something great. He looked at me, with that satisfied smile of his as he talked:

“I hope you didn’t mind that. Let me guide you to your cell”

With a series of fluid movements he cut all the ropes binding me to the wall. While I was still trying to stop my own bleeding, he grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and dragged me downstairs into the cells. I could barely think, trying to breathe while the shirt pressed on my neck and my blood spread everywhere.

Soon enough, he threw me in the cell. I hit the ground roughly, barely managing to prepare me for the landing. When I looked up, he was already closing the cell’s door.

I was enveloped in darkness. The only source of light coming from a streak of light that seemed to lead outside. If I tiptoed, I would be able to put my eyes in the slit and get just a glimpse of freedom.

I collapsed on the floor, looking at my bleeding chest. It hurt like hell but the bleeding seemed to be stopping. Fortunately, he had not cut too deep.

I tried to steady my breathing, but it was useless.

I had been battered, cut with a knife, tossed into a cell to rot.

I had rolled down a mountain, rolled down stairs, I was being kept around only to be sacrificed.

Why did nothing change? Why did all of this happen to me?

I gritted my teeth, but soon it was not enough. I screamed. All the anger, the sadness, the solitude, the rage I felt. I finally let it all out.

I screamed until my throat was hoarse.

I screamed until I could not even vocalize a single word.

And no one came.

…

Just… how much I wished my parents were around. Despite everything.

How I regret screaming to him before leaving. How I regret having left the house that day.

I… simply regret everything. Every single thing.