Chapter 1: The Heretic

Chapter 1: The Heretic

It took only a few minutes for the hateful stares to begin.

Raiga walked down the main street, each step producing a heavy metallic clang that drew the attention of every passerby. No one failed to notice him—not even the children.

The first stone did not take long to come flying.

The makeshift projectile struck the warrior’s armor head-on, but he neither turned nor flinched at the display of contempt. It was only natural for them to react that way. After all, Raiga bore the title of the Heretic, a name given to him after he was cast out of the divine faith and shunned by the gods themselves.

In a deeply religious society that depended upon those deities, being branded a heretic was the worst punishment imaginable. Many took their own lives as soon as the burden was placed upon them. It meant a life of constant rejection and unparalleled hatred.

“At least they’re only throwing rocks this time,” the black-armored adventurer muttered.

Thanks to his full suit of armor, Raiga felt no pain from the stones and bottles hurled at him whenever he walked through the streets of a settlement. It was the same everywhere he went.

He continued onward until he reached the Adventurers’ Guild, where rewards were collected and missions assigned. The building had an attractive facade made of wood and marble, along with a statue of the Goddess Aphrodite, great matriarch of beauty and love. Raiga did not bow to her as everyone else did when passing by. Rather than helping him, that refusal only earned him even more contempt from society.

He entered the building, and the moment he set foot inside, two guards blocked his path.

“Stop right there, heretic. Your presence is not welcome here.”

The one who dared to speak was a middle-aged man with an athletic build, broad shoulders, and a muscular torso. He wore an old coat of mail that had already begun to rust, a conical helmet, and an average-quality sword hanging sheathed from his belt.

Average equipment for an average guard.

“I’m here on business. Even the Adventurers’ Guild needs heretics like me. After all, no one else wants the suicide missions.”

The armored warrior’s answer was clear. He had no intention of leaving without collecting the reward he had rightfully earned.

“Your presence makes us sick. You’re a bad omen. Leave now.”

“Or what? Are you going to throw me out yourself?”

Raiga’s ominous voice made the guard step back.

Even a mediocre guard like him knew perfectly well that he stood no chance against the Heretic. Raiga had carried that title for fourteen full years and was still alive and kicking.

“May the gods let your soul rot in hell.”

After that final insult, the guard allowed him through. His companion made no attempt to stop him, and Raiga continued straight toward the counter.

A young woman with dark hair, fair skin, and blue eyes worked behind it. She greeted every adventurer who came to register, accept missions, or collect rewards with a courteous smile. It was the idyllic atmosphere one would expect from any guild—at least until Raiga arrived.

The moment she saw his great helm and black armor, her professional expression twisted into pure hatred.

“Damn you, heretic. Why won’t you just die already?”

Her voice was irritated and filled with genuine hostility. The armored adventurer merely shook his head before snapping his fingers. The two petrified troll ears appeared on the counter before her.

“I came close, but apparently all this guild’s suicide missions are nothing but exaggerations. I’m sorry, miss, but my death will have to wait.”

“Shut up. Seeing and hearing you makes me sick. Can’t you tell you’re a nuisance to everyone? Now let me examine those ears.”

The receptionist removed a magical scroll from a drawer, unrolled it, and recited several words in an arcane language to activate the item. Five seconds later, a green light confirmed that the ears were genuine and that the mission had been completed properly.

No lie could deceive the god Astrea, deity of truth.

“See? I’m a truly accomplished adventurer.”

“Shut up! Seriously, you’re a plague. Yes, you’re right. Here’s your reward. Take it and don’t speak to me again.”

The young woman hurled a pouch filled with gold coins at him. Deep within her heart, she hated herself for giving money to a heretic. However, she could not violate the oath she had sworn before the God of Truth.

Anyone who performed a job well had to be rewarded—even a heretic.

As curses and dark emotions continued to build inside her, Raiga smiled beneath his helmet and made his way toward the mission board.

“Let’s see...”

The board had nothing worthwhile to offer. There were only escort missions, jobs protecting farmland, and requests to gather medicinal plants. Useful work for ordinary adventurers, but worthless to someone of his caliber.

I doubt anyone wants to be protected by a heretic.

With no other choice, he decided to leave the building before he provoked another large-scale fight. There was always some idiot hoping to make a name for himself by attacking him. Raiga had already been involved in three brawls over the past month, and he certainly had no desire for a fourth.

“Well, I should be able to live off these coins for a while. I’d better travel to another town and see whether they have any suicide missions.”

CLANK.

Another stone struck his armor.

Raiga turned on instinct and saw a group of children hiding behind several barrels. Their resentful stares were nothing new. No matter how many rocks they threw, they would never be able to dent his armor, much less hurt him.

Or so he believed—until the next projectile struck.

“Ah, son of a bitch.”

They had thrown shit at him.

Rancid human excrement.

Unlike rocks, whose impact was fleeting and sometimes impossible to feel at all, shit stank. The odor took ages to disappear, and not even his Dark Arts could free him from such a horrific smell.

This time, he dodged the next two reeking projectiles.

He had no desire to confront the children or become involved in another fight. That would only create more problems for him in the long run.

He moved quickly, almost like a bolt of lightning, through empty alleys and disreputable backstreets. His only goal was to lose the brats and avoid running into their parents, but instead, he stumbled upon a very different scene.

“Pay your debt, or you’ll die right here.”

A thug was in the middle of his afternoon’s work.

He wore a gray plated brigandine torn at the left shoulder, dark hose, and brown boots. His weapon was a hunting knife sharp enough to slit a throat. In front of him, a terrified blonde girl backed away until she struck the wall. She wore a yellow dress stained by constant dust, thin glasses framing her delicate violet eyes, and her skin was so fair that the heat had turned it slightly red. She did not look like a woman of the night, nor did she resemble a common thief. On the contrary, she appeared to be an intellectual. Her features were soft, typical of someone who neither exercised nor trained hard.

“N-No, wait. Why do I still have to pay you? I returned what they gave me and even paid a little extra. Haven’t I already settled my debt?” the woman whispered.

“That’s not how it works. The interest went up during all those days you failed to pay. Now hand over the money—or give me your body!” the debt collector shouted.

He then drew his sword, causing the poor girl to let out a terrified shriek.

“No, stop! I never wanted those grimoires!”

Faced with such an injustice, Raiga could not remain silent. Instead of walking away in the opposite direction, he stepped forward.

“The young lady has paid her debt. You should let her go.”

Victim and aggressor both turned toward him at the same time. His entrance could not have been more heroic—except for one small detail...

“You stink,” the criminal told him.

“Oh.”