Chapter 2: Emi

Chapter 2: Emi

“Hey, you shouldn’t say something like that to someone you’ve only just met. You were supposed to ask, ‘Who are you?’ in a threatening voice so I could make my heroic entrance.”

Raiga’s ridiculous speech failed to amuse the thug. Instead, the man shoved the girl aside and turned to face the armored warrior.

“Wait. You’re the Heretic. What the hell do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

He had no intention of playing along. Rather than standing there arguing like an idiot, the criminal stepped forward with his knife in hand. The young blonde woman curled up fearfully on the ground, wrapped her arms around her knees, and made herself as small as possible for protection.

“I want you to leave. Or do I need to make you smell me? Someone threw shit at me earlier, and I assure you, the aroma is far from pleasant. Unless you have some kind of shit fetish. In that case, I’ll let you lick my armor.”

“Shut up! You’re scum, heretic. If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll cut out your tongue from under that armor.”

“Big words for such a small man. Don’t let your hatred for me blind you. You know perfectly well you have no chance of beating me.”

Raiga was not speaking out of arrogance.

It was simply the truth.

A warrior with more than fourteen years of experience and mastery over the Dark Arts could defeat a common street criminal in less than the blink of an eye. Any other outcome was impossible.

“You’ll see!”

Just as Raiga had predicted, the outlaw allowed his natural hatred for the Heretic to take control. He charged with his knife raised and, without the slightest hesitation, thrust it straight toward the visor slit of Raiga’s helmet.

A terrible mistake.

Raiga parried the attack with his longsword, then slammed the pommel into the poor man’s nose. The bone broke instantly, followed by a muffled cry of agony. An absurd amount of blood spilled onto the ground as the man writhed in pain. Blows to that part of the body were not remotely lethal, but they were incredibly painful. The last thing Raiga wanted was to face a murder charge, and given his status as a heretic, any trial would be stacked against him.

Whether he was guilty or not.

“Damn you!” the outlaw shouted.

“That fracture must have hurt. At least you won’t be able to smell the shit on me anymore. I did you a favor. Aren’t I the greatest hero in the world?”

After taunting him, Raiga walked over to the blonde woman and gently pulled her to her feet.

“Sorry about the smell. Are you all right?”

“Ah—I-I... Yes, I’m fine.”

The young woman covered her nose on instinct, though she did not seem particularly disgusted.

“I think you should find somewhere safer. There’s no telling whether more debt collectors like him are nearby.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I never wanted to take out a loan, but they forced me to accept it, and then they followed me, and I...”

“Yes, I know. You don’t have to explain anything. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Raiga’s voice lost its ominous edge. Instead, he tried to show compassion toward a victim of injustice. He was already expecting an insult, a kick, or some other form of aggression from her, but none came. Instead, the young woman bowed her head with impeccable manners and gave him a sweet smile.

“Thank you for saving me. My name is Emi. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Huh? Ah—right. I’m Raiga. The pleasure is mine.”

It had been fourteen years since Raiga had last held a normal conversation with anyone. Most of his interactions with other intelligent beings ended in insults, sarcasm, and pointless fights.

Meeting someone who did not belittle him on sight felt comforting and strange at the same time.

“That criminal said you were the Heretic, but I don’t think you can be that bad. After all, you saved me from him. Heretics are supposed to be despicable and dishonorable, but you did something good!”

Emi smiled again, bent down to gather her scrolls from the ground, and placed them inside her bag.

“Thank you again, Raiga. I’m going to the inn to find transportation to the capital. Should you ever travel there, please come find me so I can return the favor. See you!”

Emi ran away from the danger. Her steps were clumsy, slow, and adorable, and Raiga could not help smiling beneath his helmet. Despite the disgusting stench coming from his poor armor, he found himself in a good mood.

I’d better leave the city. I need a bath.

Ignoring the debt collector’s whimpering, Raiga left the alley as well. Without further delay, he departed the city and returned to the open countryside.

A green meadow streaked with patches of brown stretched across the horizon. It lay some distance from the road, allowing him to relax without fear of being surprised by soldiers or other adventurers. Raiga snapped his fingers once more, and a fully pitched tent appeared by magic. It measured three meters long and two meters high. It was nothing elegant, but it was comfortable enough to keep insects and wild animals away. The fabric was of excellent quality, and its brown color provided simple camouflage.

He entered the tent and carried several logs outside, stacking them beside it.

“Building a fire always helps me relax,” he murmured as he lit the wood with a simple Dark Arts spell.

He watched the flames dance around the logs, then dismissed his armor and returned to his ordinary clothes: a dark doublet, matching hose, brown boots, and a khaki leather belt.

“Too bad there isn’t a lake nearby. I could really use a proper bath.”

Even after removing his armor, the smell remained.

He retrieved a damp cloth from the tent and began wiping himself down in an attempt to lessen the stench.

The blonde woman he had rescued came back to mind, and a smile once again formed on his lips.

For the first time since receiving the title of the Heretic, someone had neither insulted him nor treated him like garbage. Having a healthy human interaction warmed his heart in a way he had not known was possible.

“Damn it, I’m such a softhearted fool.”

Raiga’s eyes filled with tears.

Despite building a psychological shell of sarcasm and arrogance around himself, Raiga was just as human as everyone else deep down. Being subjected to hatred around the clock was too much even for him. Knowing that there were people capable of treating him like a decent human being instead of a heretic brought a measure of comfort to his battered soul.

“Emi... That’s a beautiful name. I should have told her in person.”

His smile mixed with his tears in a display of emotion he had not experienced in a very long time.

“Nah, better not. No one wants compliments from a man who smells like shit. I’m satisfied as long as they don’t insult me. Damn, my standards have really hit rock bottom.”

He closed his eyes and pictured that unexpected encounter once again.

Emi was a beautiful young woman.

From the short time they had spent together and the way she offered to help him in the capital, he could infer that she was also a good person. Someone polite enough to express gratitude after being rescued.

She was not the first person he had saved from danger, but she was the first to thank him for it.

“I don’t help people because I expect something in return. Gratitude is optional... but it still feels nice to receive it.”

Once again, he was talking to himself. It had become a bad habit he still could not break.

Perhaps because, deep down, Raiga was truly lonely.

The title of the Heretic was an inhuman burden.

“All right, that’s enough crying. Tomorrow I need to leave for the next town and look for another suicide mission.”

After wiping away his tears, Raiga ate some dried meat for dinner and finally went to sleep.

. . .

The following morning, Raiga heard horses moving near the road. He paid little attention to them. At that hour, merchants traveled in caravans and soldiers marched to relieve the guards at distant posts. There was nothing new or interesting about it.

He decided to remain in his makeshift bed, which was filled with high-quality feathers and straw. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, until a second, far more chaotic sound forced him to rise reluctantly.

“A battle,” he murmured.

Raiga summoned his black armor once more, magically stored away his camp, and walked toward the source of the noise.

An ambush.

Dozens of armed men were fighting a small escort made up of adventurers and local guards. There were twenty-four outlaws in total, all armed to the teeth. They did not appear to be ordinary bandits, for they showed no interest in the cargo. They had come to kill. There were no threats or insults—they went straight for the complete annihilation of their prey.

The escort, on the other hand, did not look particularly professional. Only the guards wore full armor: heavy coats of mail, gauntlets, greaves, and conical helmets. They carried maces, short swords, and spears. The adventurers were far more poorly equipped. They appeared to be inexperienced novices with little training or discipline, and they were quickly overwhelmed in close combat.

They had no mages, and their crossbowmen could not reload at such close range.

If I don’t intervene, everyone in that caravan will be killed.

Before charging into battle like a true hero, Raiga took a quick look at the main wagon. The emblem of the capital gleamed like a morning star.

Then he remembered what Emi had told him the day before.

“I’m going back to the capital.”

The realization struck him just in time...

“Ah, damn it.”