Hero: Part Seven
“Excuse me, is there any rule about how much time I can spend here?” In the middle of the first truly quiet night after the Marvelous Siege, a golden-haired client sat down at a table beneath a painted portrait of a lady in a wheelchair, recalling the attention of a waiter wearing red-round glasses. “You see, I’m waiting for someone to conclude a very lucrative deal, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that history itself will remember this day. Perhaps historians will call it the Blue Bird Affair, in honor of this café…so…may I? Please?” His fawn and golden eyes failed to impress Derserk, who felt deeply uncomfortable with the man’s presence.
“Sir…ahem…as you can see, this place is completely empty, except for you and the man sitting at the counter.” He gasped. “So, I guess you can enjoy the next twelve hours here after buying a single coffee.”
The golden-haired client enthusiastically nodded and proceeded to extract from his [Inventory] a pencil, several stacks of paper, and a thick stack of dossiers, all stamped with the capitalized word—TOPHEMMELIGT. “Wait a moment, young gentleman. Would you mind if I did some paperwork while I wait? You see, building a better world rarely leaves me with such golden opportunities to move forward without being slowed by calls for help.” After scratching his head, Derserk gave his consent with a shrug, and the man began methodically organizing his documents, writing a full list of IDs and tags on a separate sheet before opening the first file.
No [Class] name above his head? I don’t know about you, Derserk, but I’d keep an eye on him—even you aren’t this paranoid.
Himself warned, and the ’Gravedigger’ silently agreed. “Could he be one of them?” He whispered to his bodymate before retreating to the kitchen to prepare the order.
“Oh, by the way, does anyone here know what day it is?” The golden-haired man asked after a few awkward chuckles. “Staying aboard a ship for nearly a week makes you forget the trivialities of the mainland.”
“It’s the thirty-sixth day since the sun shone its glory over our Heritage,” FFF-Class ’Javelinist’ Jacques Dreux answered without lifting his eyes from his freshly acquired copy of the DAILY EVERNIGHTMARE.
Who the fuck just won the election?!
After the war started, many public offices across the Holy Rolandish Empire were left vacant by veterans who had answered the Emperor’s call, leading to hundreds of emergency elections. The results were shocking—Saladì’s endorsed candidates swept over sixty percent of the seats, including the vice-royalty of Draig, while most of the remainder went to independents, and only less than five percent were successfully defended by the men of the Münzemessermarterrittert.
If this continues, nothing the Korinthians do will ever cause as much damage as our own internal conflicts.
“Oh, many thanks,” the client politely replied, bowing in apology. “May I also ask you to turn on the Hydro? I’m curious to hear which unlucky soul has been took by the 'Grim Reaper' while I was at sea.”
EE-Class ’Birdwatcher’ Safiye Farabi, after refilling Jacques’s glass with another load of fresh milk, turned a knob behind the counter. MCBN News flickered on, and as the final notes of the intro jazz song faded, the morning broadcast began.
“Reports from the Great Canyon now present peace as a viable option. The seemingly unstoppable Korinthian advance has been halted, and not by Requine’s Antboys in some sort of heroic counteroffensive. Rather, it seems the Demmies have lost their audacity, and the front has remained stalled for an entire day.” Édouard d’Iberville’s voice boomed through the café, drawing everyone’s attention.
“The invasion of the Great Dune was merely a distraction in order to strike Miraval City,” Mr. Fritz commented as he served the golden-haired man strips of penguin bacon, scrambled penguin eggs, and a cup of triple espresso—a classic Starfolk breakfast. “Now that the operation has failed, they’ll sue for a rushed peace.”
“I don’t think so,” the golden-haired man replied as he inspected his breakfast with his fork, finding no flaw in the cuisine of the Blue Bird Experience. “The unexpected outcome of the Marvelous Siege is indeed a setback, but only a setback. Their island-hopping campaign across the Pacific Archipelago steadily continues, with their fleet arrogantly pushing east to skirmish with the Armada Dorada.” He took a sip of black coffee, staining his shining white teeth. “In short, we shouldn’t delude ourselves into believing the Korinthian war machine will collapse due to misfortune alone.”
“For our next segment, I’m proud to announce an exclusive guest who will deliver a message to the entire Empire, but you, listeners of MCBN, will hear it first. Please welcome the Marquise De La Marche.” A prerecorded standing ovation was heard as Hortense Cotterêts passed the baton to the special guest.
“Fellow citizens of the Holy Rolandish Empire, I am S-Class ’Dust Symphonist’ Ælfgifu III Rougedior, and I am here, speaking to you today, to fulfill a promise I made when mine and my friends’ lives were at risk during that wretched siege. In that darkness, my eyes were opened, witnessing the true nature of a man long portrayed as nothing more than a stain upon a fancy uniform. I speak of SS-Class ’Sinful Blade’ Verdan Anhogi—the man who gave his life to save mine, and the sole reason I can speak with you today. Thus, I beg you, dear listeners, to grant me five minutes of your time to learn the truth about a man I am not afraid to call a hero.” What followed was the recounting of a private conversation, a detailed portrayal of the Hegemon of the Kataphracts, and a methodical dismantling of the many irregularities surrounding a far-too-famous legal proceeding.
“Jacques…if what she’s saying is true…” Derserk whispered into his classmate’s ear. “Did you see Rougeserker while you were aboard Mother Korinna? I mean, I was the Siege’s MVP—I should’ve inherited it.”
“No idea, dude,” the ’Javelinist’ shrugged him off. “Probably got pulverized in the explosion.” The Gravedigger nodded, visibly disappointed by the answer.
“I can’t believe this,” Mr. Fritz sobbed. “We persecuted such an innocent man, punished him for sins he was protecting us from. What did he ever do to deserve this?”
“Wait a second.” Jacques’s face went pale as realization struck within his mind. “That motherfucker died without paying me for his tax consultancy!”
***
“Good morning, Thirty-Seven.” A violent slap struck the ’Javelinist’ across the neck, propelling half of his mortadella sandwich straight to the ground.
“What the f—oh…it’s you, Thirty-Six…good morning…” The lady, who was proudly wearing the white-and-gold uniform of the Miraval Academy, grimaced at his coworker.
“Curb your enthusiasm, Thirty-Seven. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other every single day since the Marvelous Siege started, have we?” She sighed, then struck a fashion-model pose, caressing her long hair. “So, haven’t you noticed something different about me? Hehe—how do I look?”
Jacques squinted one eye while widening the other, and the longer he stared at her, the more she ran her fingers throughout her hair.
“Oh. You dyed your hair…” Jacques realized. “But why the hell blonde? Why ruin your beautiful Shurapatri heritage with barbarian fil—ACK!” The most brutal slap ever recorded in human history painted five crimson fingerprints across his face, and the ’Javelinist’ pirouetted three full turns on his circular bar stool before collapsing on the ground.
“Oops, there was a fly.” She leaned in, pinching his cheek between her fingers. “Anyway, what were you saying?”
“Th-that blonde suits you p-perfectly,” he whimpered through the tears. “Y-you truly look like a V-von Sternenstaub Q-queen.” She sneered, utterly satisfied.
“Nuña!” Safiye shouted as she rushed forward to hug her friend, stopping abruptly when she noticed her hands were still wet. “Oh, sorry. I let myself get carried away by emotions.” She wiped her hands on Jacques’s Basilisk-Leather Overcoat. “I was so worried about you last week—where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy working all over the city. War breaks a lot of windows—it would’ve been laughable not to capitalize on it.” Nuña gave a thumbs-up. “Anyway, how many times do I have to tell you not to use that name? I’m no longer my pathetic past self—I’m Miss Thirty-Six now!” After the awkward greetings, the two sat at the counter, making up for lost time and updating each other on their lives. Eventually, the ’Birdwatcher’ asked the reason behind the unexpected visit. “I’m delivering a letter to my junior colleague.”
“Have you become my postm—ACK!” Jacques, still lying on the floor, barely finished the sentence before being rewarded with her feet stamping on his spine.
“You’re supposed to drop by the pawn shop at least once a day,” she snapped, grinding her heel down till his screams soothed her feelings. “Otherwise, you won’t be aware of the boss’s new orders or when we need you. Why is this so hard for you to understand?” He spat on the rat writhing on the floor. “What were you doing all week?”
“Ahem…I saved this city by destroying Mother Kori—ACK!”
“The next time you say that kind of bullshit, I’ll aim for a more private part of you.” And with a final smirk, Thirty-Six bid her goodbye to Safiye and left the café.
Groaning, Jacques finally opened the letter, finding two tickets inside. “Perfect, tomorrow night, my dream will become real.”
***
The door of the Blue Bird Experience was smashed open, and two very peculiar individuals entered.
“Yeap…it’s this place. This time I’m sure,” declared the older of the two. He wore a waistcoat adorned with various kinds of bait and held a telescopic fishing rod, as if he were ready to capture Nessie—the cryptid supposedly living in the waters of the Natural Reserve, occasionally frightening tourists of the Miraval Lake.
“Dad, you’ve been saying that for an hour—I’m bored!” The younger one wore a bush vest without a shirt, showing off his well-defined abs and thick pectorals. “And why the hell is this city so cold? We’re in the middle of the tropics, c’mon.”
The newcomers immediately caught Jacques’s attention due to a cultural oddity that stood out at once.
Sandals with socks? For the love of Adam, don’t tell me they’re fucking Euralians!
Few things were worse than Starfolks for the Javelinist, and Equatorial Starfolks ranked high on that list.
“You stupid son of a bitch—I’m right here!” The golden-haired man calmly shouted after pausing his paperwork.
“You fucking nerd. For the love of the ’Original Seeker,’ we’re on vacation—stop working!” The older Euralian yelled as he headed toward the table, grabbing a chair and sitting beneath the portrait of the lady in the wheelchair.
“I’m having fun reading notes on Quantum Topology that were sealed inside an inaccessible government archive,” the golden-haired man cheerfully replied. “They were written by various schizophrenic PhDs who all killed themselves—absolute unfiltered bliss for the mind.” He concluded by drawing whites lines across a sheet of black paper with his pencil.
“Are you really going to draw a map of the whole universe while sitting in a café and only using pen and paper?” The Euralian asked, astonished.
“Do you need more? Pfft[—Error.Skill.Issue].” Both chuckled. “Anyway, Jeb, have you caught anything yet? I heard the Miraval Family organizes fishing tours in the Pacific Ocean. Traveling across hundreds of untouched islands and discovering new species sounds wonderful.”
“Pfft, who do you think I am, Alfie?” Jeb scoffed. “My son and I are going to hunt all the river monsters in the Natural Reserve, including that so-called monster no one’s ever found. Right, my boy?” His son’s expression of sheer disgust made it clear he did not share that enthusiasm.
“For the last time, Dad! I’m not going to waste my precious holidays in this shithole a second mo—oh for the love of the ’Romantic Dreamer.’” At that moment, the young Euralian found a very good reason to stay. “Hey, lady with the wonderful indigo eyes,” he declared after rushing to the counter. “Would you give me breakfast?”
“…Ah…sure…ahah…and thanks for the compliment…I guess.” Safiye slightly stepped back, glancing uneasily at Derserk. “What about a Vevemize Sandwich?” He enthusiastically nodded, adjusting his leather hat adorned with shark canines. “Ahem…you’re not from here, are you?”
“Yes, my lady. I come from a land down under.” Suddenly, he lunged forward and grabbed her hands. “Where women shine and men do plunder.” She tried to pull free, but his grip was far too strong for a Class E. Above his head, Safiye could clearly see the letter S. “Do you hear, do you hear the thunder?” The young Euralian yanked her closer, pressing her hands against his chest. “You can’t run, you can’t take cover!” On the verge of tears, Safiye did the only thing she could think of under such pressure—she looked at her not-so-charming prince.
Come on, for the love of the ’Imperfect Eclipser’ do something!
Jacques trembled with rage as he watched Derserk hesitate.
The ’Gravedigger’ wanted to help her with all his heart, but it was hard to think with Himself’s voice booming inside his mind, demanding blood in the most brutal way imaginable. Still, after one last look into the eyes of the girl he loved, he finally found the strength to overcome his doubts. “Hey! Don’t touch h—”
*Crash!*
A single punch square in the face sent Derserk flying into the wall, leaving behind a hole shaped exactly like his silhouette.
Meh…at least he tried. The ship can still sail, but for now, however, it’s Plan B—BURN THEM ALL!
The ’Javelinist’ took his decision to save his friend’s only chance at life, reaching into his [Inventory] for the bomb he had ordered but never used after Derserk’s one destroyed Mother Korinna.
“What’s all the fuss about?” However, before the 'Javelinist' could burn to the ground the Blue Bird Experience, a big guy emerged from the kitchen, and the moment the young Euralian saw him, he immediately released Safiye from his grip, fixing his incredulous golden eyes on the ’Scarecrow.’
“You are… big?” He muttered in disbelief.
“Thanks. You’re big too,” Kaz gently replied.
However, the letter above Casimir’s head shattered the moment. “Wait a minute…you’re Class F? Impossible…someone so weak shouldn’t be this big.”
“Actually, I’m a pretty strong guy. You should ask my professor, Mr. Dia—” The Euralian didn’t wait, launching a barrage of fast and powerful punches, determined to prove his theory.
“I-impossible…” However, punch after punch, nothing changed—none of his blows seemed to have any effect on the ’Scarecrow.’
“Eheh…you’re tickling me,” Casimir chuckled, watching the man’s jaw hang open.
“Big guy—you’re coming with me now!” The young Euralian barked, grabbing Kaz by his apron and dragging him toward the entrance. ”Dad, I and…oh, wait—what’s your name?”
”F-Class ’Scarecrow’ Casimir Piekazt.”
”Kaz and I are going to kill each other in the parking lot outside—see you later.”
“Have fun, son,” Jeb replied with a nostalgic sigh. “Ah…I miss being young, don’t you too, Alfie?” He watched his son and his new friend leave the café, then slowly turned his attention toward his old rival still seated beside him.
At the same time, Derserk crawled out of the hole in the wall, and the first thing he saw was the reddened eyes of the ’Birdwatcher.’ “Safiye…I’m so sorr—” She threw a tray at him before sprinting toward her room on the first floor. The ’Gravedigger’ immediately chased after her, followed by Mr. Fritz, who too felt a deep sense of shame—being a powerless Soulful against a Class S was no excuse.
IT’S OVERSERK!
Jacques finally lost all hope in his friend. So, to quiet his racing thoughts, he shifted his attention and began eavesdropping on the conversation between the two gentlemen.
“Do you still care about the old good times?” Jeb asked. “Do you remember our Star Duels? Eighteen victories for me, eighteen for you. We should settle this before we die of old age.”
“Grow up, old man.” Alfie waved his free hand dismissively. “I have a family to raise and the largest business on this planet to run—I thought the same was true for you.”
As Jacques peered at the table where the two men sat, he noticed how similar they were. Both had golden hair and golden eyes, sharp and refined features that unmistakable marked Starfolk nobility, but the differences were just as striking. One wore a thick and manly beard, while the other was perfectly clean-shaven. One’s skin had been kissed countless times by the sun, while the other’s was pale as snow. One radiated calm as if he was standing above the whole world, while the other reeked of tension, as if the weight of all existence rested upon his shoulders.
When was the last time two sides of the same coin were so different? I wonder what a blend of the two would look like? Jacques thought.
“Anyway, why did you call me here?” The glassy-eyed Starfolk asked. “With everything happening right now, don’t tell me you just wanted to waste my precious time with some old stories about our past!”
The bearded Starfolk grimaced. “What the fuck are you talking about, Alfie? You’re the one who sent me a letter asking for a meeting on neutral ground.”
After a brief exchange of stunned blinks, the two erupted into shouting so loud they failed to notice the door opening and the heavy footsteps of the massive man now approaching them.
“Both of you are right,” a deep and strong voice interrupted the fuss. “I’m the one who organized this little briefing.” Standing before them was a man with black hair and a beard so thick and wild they merged into a single mass—a lion mane.
“What the fu—[Inventory.SlotOne]!” Both men instantly summoned their weapons—Alfie a diamond bow, while Jeb a golden claymore. In contrast, the emerald-eyed man did not bother himself to reach any. Instead, he tore open his silk shirt, revealing a metallic and round plate embedded in his chest.
“I wouldn’t make any hasty moves if I were you,” he calmly warned, wagging his index finger. “My heart has been replaced with a portable Antimagic Reactor. It constantly monitors my vital signs, and if they were to reach zero…” He beamed. “Well, the reactor would release its Antimagic Particle, erasing Miraval Cit…No—
"Erasing the entire Natural Reserve from reality.”
