Chapter 12: I AM THE HERETIC

Deep within his heart, Raiga had always known this would happen.

Ever since he had been named the Heretic, everyone had hated him, so he never imagined anyone could ever show him kindness. Such a thought was naive, nothing more than a fantasy he refused to nurture, allowing him to endure fourteen full years of solitude. He had no friends, no family, and no special person in his life. Raiga’s existence was empty, devoid of soul and meaning.

There were no dreams.

No desires either.

Only the instinct to survive in a cruel and unjust world.

He had trained relentlessly to achieve that. Since his status as the Heretic prevented him from using magic, he mastered the Dark Arts to their fullest extent, becoming the most powerful living practitioner. He reached extraordinary levels of strength, placing himself on equal footing with the finest knights and mages in the kingdom.

But what good was all that power?

At the end of the day, nothing ever changed.

The same loneliness.

The same outcome.

Then, without warning, he met Emi.

She was someone who did not hate or insult him, someone who seemed more than willing to become his friend. For a moment, Raiga forgot about his title. He foolishly believed he might finally have a special friend—someone incapable of hating him, a kind confidante who could give him smiles and moments of happiness.

Because deep down, Raiga wanted to be happy, just like everyone else.

He longed for a family, friends he could joke around with, and even someone to fall in love with.

“But I can’t. I’m the Heretic,” the adventurer whispered as his steps carried him into a dark, deserted alley in one of the capital’s most remote districts.

The stench of garbage and filth did not bother him in the slightest. He felt tears running down his cheeks and released a heavy sigh. Never before had he felt so miserable, not even when he was first named the Heretic.

I ruined Emi’s life. I knew this would happen. I knew that being the Heretic meant hurting everyone around me. But because I never had anyone, I chose to ignore it as though it meant nothing. But it does. It matters more than anything. I’m a fool, an idiot. I should have kept my distance. I should have left when I had the chance. Damn it!

Raiga punched the wall.

He did no damage to the structure, but the impact split open his knuckles, which began to bleed without the protection of reinforcement magic or a gauntlet.

I deserve this pain and much worse. I was selfish. I wanted a friend. I wanted to be happy and live like a normal person. But that isn’t possible. I’m the Heretic. I always will be, and nothing and no one can ever change that.

The adventurer’s thoughts wandered in sorrow.

“Oh, look. It’s the Heretic.” Two unfamiliar voices called out to him from the far end of the alley.

They belonged to two tall men with broad shoulders and muscular arms, most likely lumberjacks who worked near the city walls. Both carried freshly sharpened two-handed axes. Raiga paid them no attention and remained lost in his thoughts and memories.

“They’ll pay us a fortune if we kill him! We’ll never have to work again!” the second lumberjack shouted.

Their profession was miserable.

They felled trees without rest while remaining at the mercy of monsters, wild animals, and outlaws. Leaving the protection of the walls was dangerous, especially during such troubled times. Delivering Raiga’s head would be their first step toward a better life, far from the constant danger and the meager coins they earned by destroying their arms with every swing of their axes.

Driven by desperation, they decided to attack Raiga without even exchanging a single word with him.

The first man raised his axe overhead and brought it down in a descending strike aimed at the adventurer’s face. Raiga did not flinch. He simply drew his sword like a bolt of lightning and, without hesitation, severed the poor man’s hands.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” The scream forced him to his knees in agony. Ignoring all common sense and enraged by his friend’s injury, the second lumberjack swung his enormous axe at Raiga’s chest.

Once again, he failed.

The longsword cut not only through the entire axe, but also through the man’s forearms, which struck the ground with a horrifying THUD. Blood poured from the wounds, while his choked screams disappeared into the darkness of the streets.

Assaults and violent confrontations were common in that part of the city.

No one would pay attention to two dying lumberjacks bleeding out because of their own stupidity.

Raiga sighed.

Yes, this was for the best.

He should live as the Heretic, as a creature of darkness, without any foolish dreams of heroism or knighthood.

“No, this isn’t right.” Instead of leaving, Raiga summoned two potions through his magical portal. He tossed them to the dying lumberjacks and sighed. “Drink those.”

Overcome by fear and desperation, the lumberjacks consumed the liquid. They expected a quick death that would end their suffering, but instead, they watched as the pain vanished from their stumps. Seconds later, their severed limbs reattached themselves.

Raiga said nothing else.

He left them lying there, battered and in pain, but no longer missing their arms.

Damn it. I’m the Heretic. I’m supposed to be ruthless—a monster. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To see me become another Dark Lord, just like Krizalid before me? But no. No, no, no. I can’t give them that satisfaction. I refuse to surrender to the world’s expectations.

The Heretic once again disappeared into the capital’s dark streets, where no one and nothing would be able to find him. His muffled footsteps were slow and desolate, an ode to sorrow and shattered dreams.

“Emi, forgive me,” he whispered to himself.

The tears returned.

“I’m a damned selfish fool. I want to see you, but I know I shouldn’t,” Raiga said.

His old habit of talking to himself returned.

He needed someone with whom he could share his thoughts. He needed human warmth and the reassurance that he was not alone in the world. But that truly was nothing more than a fantasy. After all…

Raiga was the Heretic.

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Emi quickly returned to a safer part of the capital.

Remaining in that district would have been dangerous for her. She watched guards moving from one street to another. They were searching for Raiga, not her. In fact, the description they had been given amounted to nothing more than “the Heretic and a woman.” Nothing more, nothing less. That was how insignificant her presence was within the enormous city.

“Raiga…” Emi sobbed quietly.

She still did not know how to feel about everything that had happened.

I told him we needed to leave. Raiga didn’t listen to me, and because of him, I’ve been permanently expelled from the academy. But at the same time, he only acted because he wanted to defend me. He never meant to hurt me. He followed his instincts, and deep within his heart, I’m important to him. I don’t want to be angry with him. I know I shouldn’t be, but it still hurts knowing that I’ll never become a scholar.

Emi continued walking until she reached an open park filled with trees, strolling families, and an enormous statue of the capital’s founder. It depicted a man clad in full plate armor, with a closed helmet concealing his face—just like Raiga when she first met him.

He should have shown his face.

She thought bitterly as she sat down on a bench.

Emi closed her eyes and remembered her privileged childhood surrounded by academies, books, and theories. From a very young age, she had known that she possessed a special talent for reading. She focused on subjects related to magic because she loved hearing stories about famous mages whose powers had brought great changes to people’s lives.

During a school trip to the academy’s library, Emi witnessed enormous bookshelves covering entire halls. Centuries, perhaps even millennia, of knowledge rested there, within reach of the scholars who deciphered ancient texts and found practical uses for them.

After graduating from school at the age of sixteen, Emi joined the academy of magic as a librarian’s assistant. She was allowed to walk through its halls and borrow books, but she was not yet given access to advanced grimoires or ancient scrolls capable of unleashing tremendous power. Emi remained patient, followed her superiors’ instructions, and gradually proved her worth.

She stopped being an assistant and became a researcher.

She was given an office and funding, which she used to hire adventurers to retrieve forgotten grimoires and ancient volumes from the most distant ruins. All so she could translate them.

Yes, I still remember my first grimoire. I translated it when I was twenty. It contained a Sacred Sword spell created five hundred years ago by the Sage Alexis. I personally submitted the completed translation, and although no one praised my efforts, I later learned that the guild was already selling it as a common grimoire to adventuring clerics who wanted offensive power without consuming too much energy. It wasn’t a particularly powerful technique, but it could still save their lives in an emergency.

Emi smiled as she remembered her first accomplishment.

Despite receiving no recognition for her work, she refused to let it discourage her. Seeing poor adventurers purchase affordable grimoires for their journeys was enough. Those spells could help them return alive and continue advancing in their careers.

Her work was not glamorous, but it was necessary in a world where opportunities were not distributed equally.

“Huh?” Emi opened her eyes when the sound of metal footsteps pulled her from her thoughts.

She saw several guards wandering through the area, most likely searching for Raiga so they could attack him unjustly. Suddenly, more armed men arrived, although they did not appear particularly interested in continuing the pursuit.

“The Prophet has ordered the search to be called off. Return to your posts. This matter will be resolved under his authority.” The order left no room for argument. The guards sighed and returned to their respective duties within the city walls.

They had no desire to run around the city like madmen either.

Emi did not understand what had happened, but she set those questions aside for the moment and returned to examining the source of her emotions.

The confrontation at the academy’s gates remained fresh in her mind. She shook her head from side to side, trying to rid herself of those painful images, but she could not. She could still feel the spit on her cheek, hear the condescending words, and see the devastating punch Raiga had thrown.

Everything happened so quickly that she still could not fully process it.

In less than two minutes, everything had gone to hell.

I’m angry. I want to scream with rage, but…

The blonde sighed.

Her thoughts gradually began to take shape. She adjusted her glasses with a simple motion and then took a deep breath.

“No, I’m not angry with Raiga,” she whispered once her thoughts became clearer. “I’m angry about the way they treated him. It’s unfair. Why were they so cruel to him? Why do they hate him so much when he hasn’t done anything wrong? What he did in that terrible situation was honorable… He doesn’t deserve my anger or my hatred!”

Her shout attracted the attention of everyone nearby, but she ignored their stares and quickly rose to her feet.

She ran as fast as her weak legs would carry her, heading back toward the poorer part of the city.

Yes, there’s no doubt about it. Raiga isn’t a bad person. The world is the one that’s wrong. I have to see him! I need to find him as soon as possible, or he’ll close his heart and never trust anyone again. Please! I have to find him.