Once A Hero, Always A Hero

I must’ve really died and gone to hell, Kael thought to himself.

Shouts and yowls were still audible in the near distance, paired with a crescendo of thundering cracks.

“Catch,” Miria warned, before a sheathed blade came tumbling in his direction.

Raised by a blacksmith, Kael couldn’t help but take a short moment to examine the craftsmanship of the tool before him. It seemed to be some kind of training sword, although a bit past its active years. Unsheathed, the blade had dulled with its lack of use and care.

“Quick, it's just a little way past here,” Miria urged as she beelined for the door, still as stonefaced as ever. Outward facade aside, Kael noted the reappearance of the blades from before.

As the pair descended a little further, rooftops peaked out from the valley, panning down to simple structures and cookie-cut homes. Despite proximity to a decent shrine and shaman pair, it seemed as though the townsfolk here were simply ordinary people. The town had fallen eerily quiet, no haunting screams or hallowed prayers to be heard. Barren streets revealed the culprit, and the true situation revealed itself.

Kael knew from one look that it was a ghoul, crouched to the ground like a scavenging dog.

Thick wisps of raven fog drew around the creature like a cloak, as two ruby geodes cut through the darkness. When it rose, six hideous hands stuck out of its body, clenching and flexing like the jaws of a predator. In its wake, the carcass of a victimised townsperson lay lifeless, discarded after its use had run out.

Kael had seen many kinds of beasts and monsters, but even his blood ran cold at the sight of the grizzly thing, no remorse or humanity left in its hollow heart.

All that lay between the ghoul and its meek prey were shutters and doors, hoping its cruel power might pass them over.

He drew the olden blade from its sheath home, resisting the urge to cringe at the dust particles that came right out with it. Today, you’ll see some action, he promised the little sword.

As if no time had passed at all, Kael felt his mind decloud and shift back into gear, the old spark of adrenaline reignite in his veins. A deep breath, then an exhale. His free hand sprang out and drew a common sigil in the air. Sure enough, a little wind whipped up at his finger tips.

“Miria! I still have my–”

But Miria was not to his left, or his right. When he turned to find the acolyte, she was nowhere to be seen.

Just at that moment, a flash of white raced past a gap between houses. When had she gotten into position?

Kael followed suit shortly after, tucked behind the brick wall of what was assumedly some kind of tavern. Instinctively, he angled the weapon to catch the creature in its reflection, only to be met with the greyed smudge of the blade. Right. This wasn’t his prized silver plated steel sword, the most treasured gift from his uncle. This was a dull, bronze training sword.

The telltale rustles and muffled thuds struck caution to high alert, as he shifted his weight onto one thigh. A deep breath, then the solemn cry of a murder passing overhead. With the thought of the black birds in mind, he waited like a grim reaper, just until the ghoul came into eyeview.

Kael sprung out of the shadows, striking straight down on the evil creature. With a horrible crack, three of its six gruesome arms sliced clean off and came falling to the ground. Wild, animalistic eyes sneered at him, fury projecting out of them like lasers.

The creature flailed its remaining arms in frenzied retaliatory attacks, lunging back and forth as Kael manoeuvred to dodge each one. As the attacks continued to persist, he found his limbs beginning to waver under the pressure, the years of dormancy beginning to sink through the cracks.

The tips of its honed claws scraped the skin on his forearm, as his gritted teeth fought to hold down against the stinging pain. A jolt away and he was free, rolling in a slight tumble across the street tiles.

Before he was able to admire his efforts, the bitter taste of reality spilled out once again. To his dismay, the nubs left behind from the three arms he’d cut down had almost fully regrown. Wretched and hideous as ever.

Kael felt his spine writhe in a shiver. This was wrong - ghouls didn’t have regeneration abilities. At first appearance, the creature seemed as if it were just another category one or two monster - nothing more than a low level bottomfeeder. But if it had magic capabilities, it was an entirely different story.

Kael tried desperately to recall the nuances in beast categorisation from his years in sorcery academy, but no matter what, this was totally backwards. How could it lack intelligent capabilities to speak, but possess magical power?

Footstep by heavy footstep, the creature stalked forward. Now with its full arsenal, it radiated confidence. This was no time to play with academics. He’d better end this now, before he found out what else the ghoul was capable of.

Go big or go home, right?

His hands drew out a familiar sigil, oozing meticulous precision this time. Sparks shot out from his palm, nebulous bright! Sparks fostered into amber flames, resting in his hand’s cradle: proud and defiant. When pressed against the blade, hues of heated blue illuminated the shaded alleyway. Esteemed Inferno Sigil.

Kael flew forward in a lurch, sending his sword swinging back down with conviction, lodging past the fog and into rough flesh. When the sound of sizzling rang out, he swung again, again and again!

The shrill shriek of the ghoul deafened everything else to a muffle, never hindering the limbs that pummeled recklessly into Kael’s back. But the sorcerer was even less willing to relent, his free hand summoning careful ignitions to crumble the creature’s resolve.

With a slow grate, his left foot began to slide. Even with an iron determination, his limbs were beginning to buckle. Kael snapped his eyes shut. Hold out just a little longer! He begged himself, digging his heels down hard into the ground.

Just when he thought his legs might give in, the thumping stopped. One final strike of vigor and the ghoul crumbled, falling to the ground in a final sweep.

Dead. Definitely dead.

The absence of its shadowed figure revealed Miria, bending down to dislodge a small throwing knife from its rib. Once it wedged free, she wiped a peculiar paste off with a rag.

“Static paste,” She murmured, gesturing to the tool. It must’ve been what caused the freeze up before the final blow.

“What the hell was that thing? How can it have magical capability?” He huffed out, struggling to catch his breath. When he looked down, he noticed the misshapen state of the training sword. Was the sigil too strong?

He watched wordlessly as Miria crept over the townsperson’s body, checking its tendons for signs of life. They both knew that it was futile.

“I’ve heard about it occurring within the last few years, but I haven’t seen it for myself before. Abnormalities like this. Creatures that are able to do what they shouldn’t. Beyond their category and classification,” Miria explained, rising when the victim gave no response to her probes.

Ghouls of this kind should never exceed a danger rating over category two - classed as humanoid and intelligent creatures. Without outward use of magic, it was impossible to know if it really were pattering on the line of category three. A regenerating ghoul? It was far beyond any of the ghouls he’d tackled before, back during his life as a human hero.

A momentary glimmer drew focus back to the ghoul’s body. In and amongst the bundle of black, Kael drew out a sharp cut gem, or was it a crystal?

“What is this?” He asked, gently rotating the object in his palm. It was almost enchanting, refracting iridescent rays of sparkling light. At certain angles, he could capture a glimpse of himself. Not the Kael that he remembered, but the one he’d awoken as.

Miria held out a hand, requesting the crystal. She spun it a few times before handing it back.

“No idea. We’re better off asking the shaman,” She remarked, sliding the throwing knives up her sleeve. A beat of silence spread over the street like a blanket. A winding path of peace. A moment of inaction. Then the maiden broke it.

“Kael,” She called out, “Sorry for leaving you to it. I wanted to see for myself, if you really were in contact with a deity,” Miria explained, but her face didn’t display any remorse.

He swallowed hard.

“What do you think?” Kael asked, genuinely curious. He himself didn’t quite believe that it was possible, especially with him left oblivious.

“The sigil you used. It’s yours, isn’t it?” Miria paused, flicking her tongue out to wetten her lips, “Even with that useless weapon. It’s clear to me now. Abundantly so. This deity sees great potential in you.”