Casual Heroing

When I look at the body in my arms, splinters of glass, wood, and steel… they tatter the slender body of Via. One of them lodged itself under her eye, giving a macabre sort of monocle to her, but also making it morbidly more refined than she had ever been. It’s maybe a promise of a life she could never had, something she had never – and maybe would have never – reached. And this splinter of glass is maybe a parting gift, a sore goodbye to reality to ascend to something else.

Why don’t I feel much?

When I look down at the dead corpse, I feel bothered. I feel bothered because I have to dig a hole for her – I cannot leave her out in the open. And there’s some pain, but it’s hidden so deep I can’t feel it. I can rationalize the thought of having some pain, somewhere in some deep dark nook of my body.

Am I a psychopath? A sociopath?

I got tested. And I researched the topic. But that’s not the case. I’m not blessed with such a condition that would make it much easier to justify my thoughts. It’s not pathology. It’s something corrupt in my soul, something much worse.

I look at the scorched armor on Cordius’s figure, taking stock of the big rifle he’s holding onto. Smoke billows around us in a litany of doom, spelling the fate of the city of Keveiz, now razed to the ground.

Not every endeavor ends well. Via built a shaky foundation for [Spies] and such, and she died because of one of the bombs we built. No heroic death. She stepped too close to an explosion point because she didn’t know what being close to a bomb entails. Not a fair death. Not the ugliest, maybe. She died almost instantly because a splinter went through her skull by the temple. And that’s how another person dies. Meaninglessly.

“Have the [Merchants] been apprehended?” I ask, looking around. Civilians cry the casualties among them, mothers on their daughters’ bodies, and son on their fathers’.

“Communications have been cut. If we can keep the fires down, no one will know that Keveiz has fallen.”

That’s one of the best things about living in a world that is poorly connected, where long distance communications are rare and scarce in between. That’s what I used to ambush a [Merchant] after another. And that’s how Keveiz falls and the half-giants can get mines back. I wish I could say that I don’t know how long it has been since the day I arrived here. But I know. Four months. Four months counted as this world does.

I have not explored much of the continent. I stayed among the half-giants, focusing wholly on a war strategy, on how to create the perfect war machine. The heavy industry of the half-giants will be fed by the incredible reserves in Keveiz now. And when the next convoy or traveler will reach the city, they will know that this is where half-giants have stomped their footprint in the ground. In their Lore, Rizilius is the great giant who could stomp the ground so strongly he would create lakes, deep ravines, and even extinguish cities—that’s how big he was. But his ears could pick even the smallest bird chirping, even the gravel being displaced by a human foot. His heart was purer than gold, as transparent as the brightest crystal. And he would be extremely careful, moving and resting only when no one would get hurt. He was so massive that he would cause earthquakes with his every move. And so, he moved with the smallest steps. And thanks to his ears, he could tune his movements to nature, making it so that no one would get hurt, not even the trees he stepped on. He would only hurt the earth when it became arid and infertile, breaking it up and reconciling with its deepest layers, the ones in touch with Mother Nature herself.

But one day, he was attacked by Humans, and the battle made him deaf. He was so tall he was could barely see the ground. For years he had relied on his great hearing to avoid disasters, but now, with his heads among the clouds, he could barely tell what was happening. And an age of darkness descended onto the world, because even Rizilius’s kindness was not enough to prevent entire cities being erased from maps.

And no one could kill the great giant. No one could fell the mighty monster who now cried in sorrow, knowing he was doomed to kill every time he moved. The Humans had tried to kill him because his very body was a treasure worth an entire era. But they had only made him deaf. And now, they were paying the price. No one could kill the giant, not even Rizilius could kill himself. He didn’t want for water nor food. He kept trying to stay still. But he would need to sleep. And whenever he slept, he would roll over cities, destroy civilizations that had been up for millennia. He tried sleeping in the sea, but great tsunamis were generated when he walked there.

He was allowed no rest, no movement, no real life.

He wept and he wept.

Thankfully, for all he was too powerful, he wasn’t Immortal. One day, he died of old age, and the Humans greedily took apart his body. But his flesh, his bones—everything he was made of had become frailer than dust, not harder than a fist of sand. He dissolved into nothing, leaving the deepest gully the world had ever known. Some argued that it was his tears that had eroded the soil so deeply that his body could finally rest in it.

I sigh.

Obviously, there are inconsistency in this myth, but it’s a fascinating legend nonetheless. Especially when you are surrounded by the stench of wooden houses burning; you would be surprised how quickly a city can disappear when it’s not made from concrete.

[Class Consolidation Requirements Met]

[Gunman – Level 19 Absorbed]

[Leader – Level 13 Absorbed]

[Engineer – Level 23 Absorbed]

[Warlord of Fire, Steel, and Glass Class Acquired!]

[Warlord of Fire, Steel, and Glass Class – Level 10!]

[Skill – Troops: Free Ammunition Acquired!]

[Skill – Troops: Automatic Reload Acquired!]

Warlord?

I’m getting bored of just staring around, so I open my mouth to taste all the smoke dancing around us. And it tastes just like a [Warlord of Fire, Steel, and Glass].

…

“Melior, what have the other cities said in response to our delegation?”

“The Hydras are ignoring us. The Goblins are more interested in getting their supply of iron than anything else. The Human factions controlled by the Sirens are getting worked up. We killed almost every person who saw us using the guns, and even if they somehow got their hands on some survivor – which is unlikely, - they will likely just talk about explosions. No one we have in the city logs has such powerful eye skills.”

“What about the Log Cutters and the Foxmen?”

“They are all standing by. There’s fear, but it’s likely that some groups will try to infiltrate the town. [Infiltrators] are to be expected. [Spies], less likely, but still possible. There are half-giants around the continent.”

“The logs were a good idea,” the half-giant says, looking directly at me.

“Trained [Scribes], [Accountants], and so on… it will take time. Do we have any news from Lady Goldith?”

“Our own secret channels are still up. She sent commendation for your work and expressed great interest in joining up our forces in the future. She’s preparing to fight a great contingent of Ahalis. Apparently, two [Dragonslayers] are leading the charge and they will mostly have élite groups on their side.”

“She’s a great woman, but she needs better organization around her. I saw what she sent us and that Gazius could be doing more. Much more,” I tell him.

“Let’s not mess with the Vanedenis, for the moment, Cassandre,” Melior says. “She’s a great woman, but she doesn’t—I have the impression, Cassandre, she is a dangerous ally. If it’s true that Vanedenis never stop, Lady Goldith incarnates the best qualities of her people. So, she’s either going to win the war, and potentially become a [Hero], or doom yet another noble family of theirs.”

“We can’t do much, anyway. Sirens will not let us. If we could have gone en masse to Kome, we would already be there, Melior. That would have been a straightforward battle with straightforward allies. Here? We are not well armed to deal with espionage. People can just jump over the walls and steal a weapon. What happens when a level 50 [Thief] takes interest in what we are doing?”

“Humans can’t replicate my work,” Melior snaps back. “No one on Carilia, not even Hydras, would know what to do with guns. And anyway, the knowledge of guns will come out at some point.”

“Better later than sooner, Melior. Have they been locked out following my instructions?”

The half-giant nods, staying silent to avoid a fight. We have not been agreeing on everything, lately. It’s not a problem, yet, but I suspect that he feels I’m slowly undermining his authority. Truth to be told, I am. My leadership is much better than his when it comes to this war. Melior is the [Blacksmith] and the representative for the Steel faction. I’m the brain of this operation.

About the Log Cutters, that’s apparently a powerful multi-city political faction spread all over the South of Carilia. The name comes from the fact that they made their fortunes as [Merchants] dealing with woods. Carilia has the highest quality wood among all continents. Some of it comes from the fact that, even though [Druids] are somehow extinct, Nymphs exist. They are a race. Not exactly like the myths on Earth, but more like an anthropomorphic, humanoid-looking, version of them. What makes them different from Humans is mostly the skin color and the great attunement to magic and… faith. They venerate one of the Canti.

The Foxmen have an incredibly number of [Pyromancers] even by [Mage] standards, where everyone just loves to learn how to throw a [Fireball], and eventually makes their entire personality about it. They are attuned to fire. Obviously, not all of them are [Pyromancers]. Just three or four times the numbers you would see in a normal population. Maybe more. Statistics are hardly a thing, here.

I have established a channel of communication of with Vanedenis. They are even crazier than how stories paint them. Lady Goldith outright asked if we were willing to risk travel by boat and climb the 4.000 meters tall rocky coast that leads up to their continent. Yes, Kome is 4.000 meters above the sea level, with rocky walls that are perfectly perpendicular to the waves.

She even said that maybe the best of us would survive.

She doesn’t believe we would all survive, just the good ones. I mean, she does need Melior and a few others, including me, I guess. But still, there was no irony, no joke. That was a completely fine request in her mind. Lady Goldith, the new hope of the Vanedenis.

That’s what happens when a woman leads.

I smile widely.