To be honest, I don't have a hero complex, but I won't lie, being a hero was strangely satisfying. Maybe it was because the person in need of saving was someone I deeply cared about. Ah, now I understand... Now I see why those superheroes prefer saving the world instead of indulging in luxury, building harems, or chasing endless pleasures.
Because what they value... is everyone. In the truest sense of the word. And maybe that's precisely why true superheroes will never exist.
Anyway, back to the present.
There were five people I had to kill. But there was a problem: How should I kill them? If I wanted, I could easily take each one out with a display of overwhelming power. But if I did that... Willabelle might not be impressed enough.
On the other hand, if I pretended to struggle. If I made it seem like I was risking my life for her, maybe she'd be more affected. But then, I'd be forced to play the part of someone weaker than I truly am… constantly. And besides, I had already accidentally revealed some of my strength to Willabelle back at the tavern.
I guess I'll take the risk and go all in. If I'm going to do this, I need to look powerful without overdoing it.
The moment I took my first step, the alley still carried the scent of blood and steel. The sound of dragging chains echoed against the ground, sending a chill down the spine. Willabelle's eyes were still unfocused, but she saw me. Maybe not clearly... but she knew I was there. And that was enough.
I turned my sword forward, weighing its heft in my palm. Familiar as a violin in a musician's hands. Precise as a headsman's axe.
The five remaining enemies hesitated at first, unsure of what to do. They exchanged brief glances. Then, one of them stepped forward.
The one with the chain.
He tilted his head, baring his teeth. "You're experienced," he said. "But so are we."
He hurled the chain at me.
It spun through the air like a serpent slicing through the night, but I had already moved.
Swinging my right leg to the side, I lowered my weight. The chain whistled past my head.
One step. One strike.
A clean cut slid beneath his left arm, shattering the scapula. The man didn't even scream, just let out a confused breath. I pulled my sword free and moved on. The chain unraveled and hit the ground.
Four left.
One was an archer. He had retreated into the shadows. Nearly invisible among the trees. But as he pulled back his bowstring, I loosened my muscles. Prepared my body for the blood to come.
When the arrow was loosed, I heard it. A sharp hiss, like the wind holding its breath. Then, my hand moved.
My blade arced upward in a half-moon slash.
Crack.
The arrow split in two. Its pieces fell to the ground behind me.
No sound. No motion. Only me, in the middle of the darkness, like a balance point.
"I just saved this woman..." I murmured. "And you... you tried to strangle her."
That was all the reason I needed to cut them down.
The next two warriors didn't last long against my blade. The first tried to sneak up from behind, but I heard his steps. I sliced down from the hip. His tendons snapped; he couldn't even scream. Just collapsed.
The second was bolder, wielding a double-headed axe. I locked his strike with my sword, then sidestepped, slamming my knee into his shoulder. He didn't see the blade coming toward his chest. And when he did, it was already too late.
The last one… was a woman.
She smiled at me. This time, out of fear.
Her voice, still rough, now trembled.
"I... I can give you gold if you let me live," she said.
"I'll even be your whore. Just don't kill me. You don't have a real reason to, anyway."
"You're wrong," I said. "My reason is lying right there."
I turned my head toward Willabelle. The woman followed my gaze. And for a brief moment, she felt real fear.
Her pupils widened. She tried to move, but her legs wouldn't obey.
I raised my sword to shoulder height. She stepped back, but her feet tangled beneath her, knees sinking into the mud. Her face gleamed with a mix of blood and sweat. Her lips trembled; still hoping somehow for a shred of mercy.
"Listen..." she croaked. "I only followed orders. That's all. I didn't do much. They did it. They're the ones who wrapped the chain around her neck. I just-"
"Begging lips may test a real man's conscience," I said. "But me? I learned long ago how to bury mine."
For a moment, it looked like I was going to spare her. My fingers loosened on the hilt. She saw hope flicker across my face.
And then… I struck.
A clean, horizontal slash. No sound. No blood, at first.
Then, a thin red line widened across her throat.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her hands flew to her neck; a useless flutter.
Then she fell. First, to her knees. Then fully to the ground.
The last thing her eyes turned to was where Willabelle lay.
I stood still for a while. My sword's tip resting against the ground, blood dripping slowly onto the cobblestones. The air was silent. But not peaceful. It felt like the end of something.
I wiped the blade slowly and slid it back into its sheath. Then I knelt beside Willabelle.
Her eyes were open. She was conscious, but shaking. She saw me, but struggled to respond.
I reached out quickly to free her. Loosened the rope from her neck, the chains from her legs. Her body shook as she gasped. Like a diver breaking the surface at the last moment. Her breathing was chaotic.
She reached for me. And I embraced her, arms wrapping around her back.
She clung to me, calming down slowly. And soon, she was steady.
"Eliza…" I said, deliberately using her false name. "You're alright. You're safe now."
My words were soft. She shivered in my arms, but didn't pull away.
Her hold was still weak, more of a grip than a hug. A grasp on life, on me, on the fragile reality of this moment.
Seconds passed. Then she rested her head on my shoulder. Her wet hair brushed my cheek, and I flinched.
It felt like we didn't belong here. Not in this filthy, blood-soaked alley. And yet, for a few seconds… time stood still.
There were only us. She was breathing. I was guarding.
"You're still trembling," I whispered.
"Because… I was scared."
Her voice was muffled. Half breath, half confession. Her fingers gripped my sheath. maybe knowingly, maybe not.
"I thought… they were going to kill me."
"I won't let that happen."
I wasn't surprised myself when I said it. Because it wasn't the first time I'd thought it. But this time, I said it aloud. Not to the world. To her. So, only she would know the weight of those words.
I lifted her chin gently, guiding her to look at me. Her eyes were still shaken, but something flickered within; a sliver of trust. Perhaps gratitude. Perhaps something more... unnamed.
"Let's go," I said. "You won't object to my walking you home this time, will you?"
Willabelle didn't look away. Her pupils were still dilated, but now, they showed not fear… but a touch of shame.
"We… we don't have a home. We live in tents. In the forest." Her voice was tinged with sorrow and shame.
The silence that followed was heavier than the silence of the surrounding dead. Because this silence carried the weight of her past. A hidden truth, spoken through a woman forced to grow up too soon.
I didn't step back. I didn't avert my gaze.
"So… tents," I said, fastening my sword to my belt. "Then let me take you there. And then, take you and your son to a safer place. Someone more skilled than those men might be after you. For your sake and your son's, you need to stay close to me."
Willabelle lowered her head. Her eyes fell to the ground, then slowly rose again to meet mine.
"I hid him... but if I hadn't come back tonight…" Her voice caught in her throat. The rest of the sentence shone clearly in her eyes.
She looked down again. In that moment, she was a portrait of strength and despair locked in the same body. A world that tried to crush her, and me, standing between her and that world.
And this time, I wasn't backing down.
I stood up slowly and reached out my hand. "Come on," I said. "This night is far from over. We've got safer places to be."
When she took my hand, her fingers still trembled. As she rose, bloody water slid from her knees.
I led the way. She followed one step behind. Silent.
Only the sound of our footsteps echoed across the stones.