Chapter 06
"Hey, you. You're finally awake," he greeted the girl, her knife tossing lightly in his hand as she stirred from her slumber.
Coming back to her senses, she immediately began the very rude gesture of checking her own body, as if he might have taken her being unconscious as an opportunity.
He had almost killed her, but he wasn't that level of vile, or so he believed.
So it stung a little that she'd suspect him of that, same as her next move, checking for her belongings, as if he'd stolen from her too.
From across the embering bonfire, he pointed at her bag, which sat beside her ruined bow.
She immediately tried to reach for it, which prompted him to warn, "I wouldn't move too fast if I were—and that's why. "
She'd put strain on the shoulder he'd ruined the clavicle of, and she winced so loudly it might as well have been a scream. Still, she crawled toward the bag to check it.
Goddamn, girl, he thought, I get that it's valuable, but that's what you were worried about? He couldn't help but frown, watching the relief on her face at finding the thing still there, stuffed among items he'd have guessed were worth far more. It actually brought tears to her eyes.
After regaining some composure, she gently massaged the side of her face, still marked by the cold press of his Vanguard Five-Chamber, and glanced at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like it's all my fault," he said. "You started this. All I did was defend myself against a madwoman who suddenly wanted to skewer me for god knows what reason."
The way she avoided his eyes suggested she was at least sane enough to know she'd been in the wrong, so he pressed on.
"I don't know what kind of life you're living or who wants your hide, but you can't just go around shooting arrows at people because you suspect they're after you.
In my case, an innocent someone, because trust me, nobody wanting you dead goes to the lengths I went through to keep you alive. "
After doing what little he could to treat the wound, which wasn't much, he carried her back down to the fortress.
A night out in the open would have been brutal without Nazim's workshop for shelter, so he made his way down with her on his back, and spent, he had no idea how many hours beside her waiting for her to wake.
It was the middle of the night now. About half a day wasted on all of this.
"You're right," she admitted at least. "I shouldn't have done that."
He stayed silent, unable to find words that wouldn't come out as scolding or a lecture. He let her sit with the silence, until she finally asked, "Did you really meet him?"
"Who? Nazim? Yeah, I told you, didn't I? I got this off him," he said, showing her the Vanguard. "I'm not demonstrating it again," he added. "I know it's hard to believe, since the shop vanished from where I said it was. But it was there."
She gave him a resigned look. "I've heard stories of how his shop appears out of nowhere. I should have considered it could work the other way too."
What the fuck, he thought, you had an explanation the whole time? He couldn't help but bristle at the thought that she'd nearly put an arrow through him over something she could have reasoned her way out of.
"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically, hiding her face in what he guessed was shame. "Sorry."
"At this point just drop it. It's awkward for both of us." He had ruined her bow, which she clearly cared about, shattered her clavicle, and knocked her out cold. Accepting an apology now just felt wrong.
Trying to change the subject, he said, "We got lucky I turned out to be decent at first aid—" only to be cut off as she launched into something more confessional.
"The only reason I came here was because I'd heard legends of one of his workshops somewhere in this region."
That doesn't explain why you were so quick to draw a bow on me, he thought, but fine, we're getting somewhere.
"I was told this region would be dangerous, with the monsters roaming here, but I was certain it would be worth it, even for the faintest chance of finding one of his shops."
"Shops," he mused, recalling what she'd said about Nazim's ability to make his shop appear and vanish elsewhere. "Are these shops of his hard to come by?" he asked, though he felt like he already knew the answer.
With a look of thorough bafflement, she answered, "Of course. His shops are the kind only heroes stumble upon easily. For the rest of us, it's next to impossible, or a sign of great fortune."
Nazim's workshop, for how it looked, seemed to be a bigger deal than he'd realized, which made sense given how much he seemed to have stocked in the back.
It made him wonder if he'd underused the opportunity while he had it.
Nothing specific came to mind, but now that the shop was gone from where he'd left it, he felt like he'd wasted something valuable without even knowing what.
"So his shop isn't something you just randomly come across?"
"Unless you're one of the two hundred and fifty-six heroes."
"Heroes." Something about the word struck a chord in his mind. "Mind giving me a rundown of who they are? I feel like I should know this, but..."
"You don't know about the heroes?!"
"You'd be surprised what I don't know," he said, handing her knife back. He figured it was safe now. She didn't look like she wanted to kill him anymore.
"The heroes are an unaging, powerful group of awakened humans whose souls are said to come from worlds different than Tutoria, which makes them distinctly different from anyone else in this world."
"Unaging, huh." The information didn't come as much of a surprise. The existence of unaging beings felt like something he already knew, the same way teleportation hadn't fazed him once it came up.
"You said they're different from others. In what way?"
"They came into this world with potential unlike anyone else. They grow stronger and faster, push past normal limits, and possess incredible luck."
"I see." He felt like he knew that too. "Tell me more."
"Some say they're sent by the gods. Others say they are gods themselves, demigods. Others say the opposite, that they were sent to destroy Tutoria, and plenty of them have proven they have a tendency for destruction."
"So some of them did bad things."
"Some did, but most are known for the many good things they brought to the world," she said, in a tone that made it clear she believed that piously.
"You mentioned they had the potential to grow stronger, and that they've lived for over a millennium. Roughly how strong would you say the weakest hero is after all that time?"
"I don't know."
"Try to give me an estimate."
"The weakest one I know of could level mountains. I think."
"Mountains." He echoed the word, glancing back at the one he'd climbed down. "That's impressive."
"That's what I heard, at least. Though some heroes are healers, so maybe that one couldn't do that, but they'd be equally impressive on the healing side."
"Just asking, do you know the names of all these heroes?"
She shook her head. "I know of twenty-three."
"Twenty-three, huh. That's a lot. Just in case, among those twenty-three, is there one who goes by the name Hiro?"
She shook her head again.
"I see."
"What's your name?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. No doubt she'd landed on the only logical conclusion after all these questions.
"I'll be honest with you on this one. I don't know." And with that, he explained his strange circumstances: waking in the middle of a dungeon, the monsters, the giant goats, meeting Nazim, buying the revolver he'd shot her with.
"You think you might be one of them? One of the heroes?" she asked.
He considered the question, and asked her in turn to name one of the heroes she knew.
If he really was one of them, surely he'd feel some flicker of recognition hearing their names.
They'd be his fellow heroes, after all. He should feel something.
But he didn't, which led him to a simple answer. "No, I don't think I am one of them."
"But you stumbled onto one of Nazim's workshops."
"That happens to other people too, doesn't it? Not just heroes."
She looked reluctant to accept that. "Besides, I'm not strong like those god-like heroes. I'm pretty good, but I think like a nor—"
"A voice," she cut in, as if conceding the point after some internal debate.
"A voice?"
"A Peshonalantelfassse, it's called. It's not commonly known, but I know for a fact that all heroes have access to it, along with their unique oracle, and it's through that voice that they interact with it directly."
"What?"
"It's a voice that talks to them, in their head, offering advice and suggestions." She looked at him expectantly.
"I can see it in your eyes, so I'll just say it. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't hear any convenient voice," he said.
She gave him a look that suggested she wasn't quite convinced, which was fair, since he had no real proof, only his own conclusion. She went on to explain the oracle in more detail, describing it as something that manifested as both a screen and an audio message only awakened beings could perceive.
What's an awakened being? She explained briefly, then told him that as one, he should be able to see some aspect of this oracle in the corner of his vision.
But clearly, there was nothing there. He even tried to will it into existence, the way she suggested, but nothing happened.
She seemed to be waiting for some kind of realization to hit his amnesiac mind. It never came.
"I don't think I'm a hero. I don't think I'm an awakened human either."
If you split all humanoids—elf, humans, therians, dwarves—into two groups, one would have the advantage of the oracle, granting them superhuman strength, magic, flight. The other would be as mundane as mundane could get.
She'd clearly expected him to belong to the former.
So far, he hadn't discovered anything about himself that would place him there.
No webs, no lasers from his eyes, no superspeed, nothing that could be called a superpower as far as he could tell.
And the surest sign of belonging to that group, access to the oracle, was missing entirely.
Which meant he belonged to the other group. The mundane one.
"Why do you still look like you're questioning that? Is it really so hard to believe I'm just a mundane guy like you? Unless you’re… an awakened human yourself."
"I'm... not," she said, oddly, as if ashamed to admit it.
Thinking he asked, "is that why you were looking for his workshop?"
To him, it made perfect sense. She was after the kobold who seemed to have everything available in the back of his shop, and from what he could tell, she was somewhat obsessed with the idea of heroes, or at least of awakened beings.
She was clearly planning to trade those things in your bag for something. He didn't know what exactly, but it’s something you believe only he can give you. He glanced at her bag, and she reflexively clutched it, on guard, as if he might steal it from her.
He just stared, letting her sit with how ridiculous that reaction looked. "You saw it, didn't you?" she said, after the silence stretched long enough to be awkward.
Saw what?
Obviously she meant whatever was in the bag.
"Didn't mean to. I was looking for something to treat your injury."
Inside her bag were several items, interesting in the sense that he could easily picture them as being expensive and unique.
Gold. Gems of multiple colors and kinds.
And a skull. Yes, a skull. There was an actual human skull in her bag, one that—judging by how she frantically checked for damage after she woke up—was what she considered the most valuable item in her collection. More than the gems and gold.
"Erm, whose skull is that? If you don't mind me asking?" She gave him a look that made him quickly add, "I see you do mind. Never mind then. We're good, we're good."
Truth was, he was genuinely curious whose skull it was. It looked old, so he doubted she'd beheaded and skinned off someone herself. He pictured it stolen from a museum for its worth, or maybe just something she liked carrying around. He wouldn't judge her for that, to each their own.
"About what you said earlier," she said.
"About what I said?" he echoed, confused.
"Before we climbed the mountain. You said you'd have a favor to ask me, in exchange for taking me to where you found Nazim's workshop."
"Oh, that. Shit, I almost forgot completely, with everything that's happened."
"Well, you held up your end of the bargain. It's my turn," she said, with conviction.
"Well, if you insist," he said. But looking at her, still vulnerable, he hesitated. With what little resolve he had left, he asked, "Just to be sure, you're not married or engaged, are you?"
At the question, she gave him a look, then hesitantly answered, "No. Why?"
"Before I answer that, I need to ask you something else. On a scale of one to ten, how well would you take me asking you for a slightly se—no, never mind, that's too awkward. Answer me this instead. Are you a virgin?"
This time the bafflement wasn't limited to a questioning stare. "What?!" She scrambled to put distance between them, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.
"Nevermind I just lost what little motivation I had for asking you this favor in the first place. I had a feeling this would be too awkward anyway. Forget it. We're even now," he declared, settling the matter.
"Hiro," she said tentatively. The name was meant for him, he knew, but hearing someone actually say it felt oddly familiar and wrong at the same time. "What will you do now?"
He thought for a moment, then asked, "My goal is to reach civilization. What's that city, the one visible from up on the ridge?"
"Eudeussac."
"That's where I'm headed. What about you? I think you should come. You need rest to heal that injury. It'll take weeks, and the city would be a good place for that. What do you think? Want to come with me?"
After a brief pause, she nodded.
"Perfect. We'll get moving as soon as you're able.
And one more thing. Since we're traveling together now, from here on out, don't call me Hiro.
I'm curious what kind of person he was, but whoever he was, if Nazim's right, he's a different person from me.
So from now on, call me..." He thought for a moment, searching for a name, then said, "Shiro. Call me Shiro."