Eri woke to darkness. He was warm. Dry.

  He heard voices.

  “Holy God… Dear holy God…”

  “Quiet! Do you want to wake him up?”

  “He… He killed them all…”

  “Yes, Julie, we saw…”

  “Fuck you, Bori. And fuck me sideways, was he always this strong? How can anything so small be that strong?”

  “... We should kill him.”

  “Alvine, what the fuck—”

  “You know we have to. You saw. He… He—!”

  “... He saved our lives, Al. We can’t do that.”

  “How could you disagree? Raharim, you’re part of the Church. You, above all—”

  “We should at least wait for him to wake—”

  “So that he can kill us all?!”

  “Be rational. If he wanted to, he would have done it ages ago.”

  “Besides, regardless of what we’ve seen, we don’t know anything for certain! Hell, he could be a Saint reborn, or something!”

  “Not with that kind of magic…”

  “Oh, so now you’re an expert on all things under the Sun, Bori? We’re Bronze Cores! We’ve only been Chosens for three years! There are more secrets and mysteries born across this five-thousand-year war than there are stars in the sky! Who knows what’s possible and what isn’t?”

  “Don’t get all philosophical on me! Besides, I don’t need brains to know demon magic when I see it, Raharim!”

  “Screw you all.” Alvine’s voice again. “If the lot of you are too cowardly to end his life, then I—!”

  “Enough.”

  Eri recognised Joarris’s voice.

  “Oh, so now you decide to speak? Well, what do you have for us, oh glorious leader?”

  “... We are keeping him alive.”

  Angry footsteps and shouting. Hesitant voices. A scuffle. Then, Joarris’s voice again.

  “If you need a rationale, consider this: we are not getting out of this port alive without his help. You say that if he wakes up, we’re dead. I say that if we kill him, we are dead anyway. As the leader, I have to make the decision that has the highest chance of seeing everyone alive at the end of the mission.”

  “Better us all dead than that thing lives to walk the earth.”

  “He has been nothing but good to us. He risked everything to see us safe. Whatever he is, those are not the actions of a monster. I choose to believe he is what we first see him to be: a Hero.”

  Silence. Joarris sighed.

  “We can vote, if you wish. Julie?”

  “H-huh? Um… I’m guessing abstaining is not an option? Then, I would like to hear him out first, at least.”

  “Bori?”

  “Well, I kind of get what Julie’s saying, but at the same time, I don’t really think we can kill him once he wakes up, you know? If we are going to kill him, it has to be now.”

  “Is that your vote?”

  “... No. Like you said, he’s been good to us. Besides, look at him: he’s just a kid. I don’t think I can stomach it.”

  “Raharim?”

  “He’s a good soul. I trust him with my life, and will protect his with mine.”

  “As for me, I vote to wait for his explanation. It’s four against one, Alvine.”

  “... Go to hell. All of you.”

  There was a sobbing noise from Alvine. Someone moved to hug her — Julie, maybe. They moved away to a corner. Alvine’s sobs faded away.

  Raharim spoke first after a minute of heavy silence. “Were we too harsh? Considering her… history.”

  “It was the right call.” Joarris’s tone was weary. “I’ll make up to her later. If we survive.”

  Someone sighed — Bori. “I’ll go check the quality of the Caustic Oil. Might as well complete the job, since we’re already here. Raharim, give me a hand?”

  “Of course. Joarris, let us know if he wakes.”

  “I will.”

  Footsteps fading. Joarris sat heavily.

  “You saved us all, brat,” he whispered tiredly. “I was ready to die, but I could never forgive myself if I had led the rest to their deaths. I don’t care what I saw. Thank you. You’re the greatest damn hero out of all of us.”

  Just like Saint Ariane.

  Eri’s mouth twitched once, and then darkness consumed his mind once more.

  ~~~

  Waking up properly was a painful affair.

  That sluggish sensation in his blood, his heart pumping lethargically, as if struggling to move the thickened liquid in his veins… Pain in every heartbeat…

  A familiar pain. But familiarity did not make it any less agonising to endure.

  Eri groaned. There was movement beside him almost instantly.

  “He’s awake!”

  Voices. Eri struggled to make out the words.

  “Water,” he croaked.

  Seconds later, a canteen opening was placed on his lips. He greedily sucked up the liquid. After some help, he was brought up to a sitting position.

  Someone brought a wet cloth to his face. Eri cleaned the crust out of his eyes.

  “Thanks,” he whispered weakly. His vision was still blurry. “How… How long have I been out?”

  Please don’t tell me it’s been another month. If it was, he was just going to ask the party to put him out of his misery. Elen would kill him for real this time.

  “About four hours,” Joarris said. Eri sighed in relief. “We fed you our health and mana potions, but we weren’t sure how much help they would be, considering… the nature of your wounds.”

  Eri hummed. “Thanks. Just give me a second…”

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  From his inventory pouch, he pulled out a special tincture and drank its contents. Though he had hoped never to use the Bloodflame Demonic Arts again, the practical side of him had prepared contingencies for it anyway.

  Having ‘Medicine’ as a Key Skill gave him the knowledge necessary to create exotic drugs specialised at remedying the Bloodflame after-effects. With access to the System Shop, crafting the tinctures and ampoules was a breeze.

  If he hadn’t injected the stabilising ampoule before the fight, he most likely would have succumbed to his wounds already, or at least be stuck in a recovery coma once more.

  His vision and hearing returned, though his body remained unbearably weak. The medicine was not made to completely fix him, only to keep the pain suppressed and temporarily alleviate the worst of his symptoms. Still, at least he could see and listen.

  The grim faces around him told him he was unlikely to enjoy the following conversation, however.

  “Is this area secure?” Eri asked, looking around. He was currently in a building with sturdy stone walls and complex, rusted machinery around — the dwarven oil pumping station.

  The five of them exchanged glances for a moment before Julie spoke up.

  “Alvine and I are on overwatch duty. Killed a few minor demons that strayed too close, but nothing else.” She hesitated. “I think the bigger ones are… afraid of that display outside.”

  Eri blinked. “Display?”

  They moved out of the way, allowing Eri to look past them and out the shattered metal doors of the pumping station.

  Eri stared.

  Outside of the station, within the wide open clearing, was a giant, pulsating sculpture of flesh and blood.

  Tendrils of shimmering sanguine liquid thread around the corpses of serpentine demons, forming an amalgamation of meat and solidified blood. The effigy was enormous; at least twice the size of the building he was in, shaped like a spire of glowing biomass reaching for the heavens.

  He couldn’t remember making that. That was probably bad.

  Eri could roughly make out the King Hydras' corpses within that bloody mess, so at least he must have dealt with the primary threat before passing out.

  I must have used the Fourth Form of the Bloodflame Artes to create that… No hiding my nature now.

  “You killed two of them,” Joarris said. The man tried to sound neutral, but his voice still wavered slightly. “The other three ran away, though with heavy wounds. We haven’t seen them since.”

  “You collapsed afterwards,” Julie added. “We couldn’t wake you up, so we dragged you here and let you rest. Raharim tended to your wounds as best he could, but… It was pretty bad.”

  “That’s putting it lightly. You should have been dead three times over,” the priest huffed lightly. “Still, I’m glad you live, despite the results being contrary to my limited healing expertise. That body of yours is… interesting. The modification you made to yourself to handle the boiling blood is quite something.”

  Eri didn’t know what to say. He did note the death stare Alvine was giving him, as well as the uncomfortable looks from Bori, who had one hand on his sheathed sabre at all times.

  Elen’s words returned to his mind.

  “The hatred against Hell defines the existence of every single living creature on this continent! Do not ever make this mistake again: you cannot trust anyone with who you are!”

  Trust was dangerous and foolish. His secret was one that beckoned his demise. But…

  He tried trust once, and it paid off in ways he could never imagine. Elen became both his closest confidante and his trusted friend. It would have never happened if he hadn’t taken the leap.

  Perhaps it was naive of him, but Eri wanted to believe in the goodness of Heroes, as he must have once seen in Saint Ariane.

  The boy sighed. “Alright. Go ahead. I know you want to ask.”

  Silence. The five must have waited frantically for this moment for the past four hours, yet now that the moment was here, they did not know what to say.

  Eventually, it was Joarris who spoke first: “Can you still fight?”

  Eri blinked. That was not the question he expected.

  Perhaps it was not surprising. From what little Eri had seen of him, Joarris had proved himself a worthy leader and a man who focused on practicalities first.

  “I am not combat capable at this moment,” Eri replied bluntly. “Or for the immediate future. I doubt I can even walk without aid for the next couple of hours.”

  Joarris grimaced. “We are stuck deep in demon territory, with no way out. If you cannot fight, we are doomed.”

  “I won’t be so pessimistic,” Eri murmured. “It’s not like you to give up so easily. Besides, I have other means of helping beyond just fighting. Have you guys eaten yet?”

  As one, the party looked towards Bori with annoyed glances. The man sheepishly coughed. “I’m in charge of supplies, but… I didn’t pack rations. In my defence, it was supposed to be a short scouting mission.”

  “I’ll have to correct that in future mission preparations, should we make it out alive,” Joarris growled.

  Eri reached inside his inventory.

  A moment later, five boxes of cooked meals were laid out before the group, with even clean utensils ready.

  “I have water and medical supplies as well,” Eri addressed their stunned expression. “Health and mana potions too, if you need them.”

  Julie’s stomach growled. She hastily reached for a box. “Welp, now I’m doubly glad I voted to keep you alive. At least I won’t die on an empty stomach.”

  “Julie! You weren’t supposed to tell—” Bori’s hissing was cut off as the woman noisily scarfed down her meal. He sighed. “Never mind. Give me a box.”

  “I can’t believe you can just magically materialise food,” Raharim muttered, moaning in delight as he took the first bite. “Damn good food, as well. It’s even still hot!”

  “Thanks,” Eri replied. It was nice to hear someone compliment his cooking. Elen and the orphanage always appreciated his meals. His Cooking Skill earned from countless years of ‘dish preparation’ Side Quests wasn’t just for show.

  A good thing he had a mind to stockpile several months' worth of rations away over the last few years. Even if he had to feed the entire group, he could sustain them for weeks without issue.

  A pity they could not simply hole up and wait for the proverbial storm to pass.

  Eventually, everyone took a box and ate — even Alvine, who did so hesitantly. Eri produced an additional carafe of fresh water and a plate of fresh bread and cheese for them. Once that was done, he gave out restoration and stamina potions to bring everyone back to maximum fighting strength, or as close as they could be given their fatigue.

  There was some concern with how openly he was displaying his Inventory’s capabilities. The group was perhaps still too young to know its value, but both Kalisa and Elen had once warned him about the avarice and fear surrounding spatial magic.

  “Magics that mess with time and space are the domain of the Old Gods,” Elen had said. “They were even used as weapons of war — A War in Heaven that tore the universe apart. There remain only traces of them left in the modern age — artefacts, reality-bending anomalies, lingering aftermaths of the War — but all the tales surrounding them are cautionary ones. Stories of people trapped within the wounds of reality, stuck in endlessly repeating actions, minds fully conscious. A thousand years in each second… It’s a worse fate than death. I’ve seen it before. There’s no school of arcana more feared than spatial magic.”

  “There are many who would kill to take that pouch from you, and many more who would do far worse things just to see it destroyed. Best keep it a secret,” Kalisa had advised. “Useful as spatial magic may be, the fear of it is not irrational. The sheer hopelessness it inspires drives many to rid the world of such magic. Perhaps even rightly so.”

  It was also illegal to use under Imperial Law, though Eri heard rumours that both the Church and the Empire still employ it on rare and desperate occasions.

  For the moment, the usefulness of the Inventory pouch vastly outweighed its burden. Even Elen eventually came around to Eri keeping it, though she never really grew comfortable in its presence.

  It didn’t help that their every attempt to destroy or get rid of it never worked. The pouch was indestructible to anything they subjected it to, and it always appeared in Eri’s hand whenever he summoned it, regardless of where he left it.

  Problems for another day. The present shook him from his morbid thoughts.

  “So, are you going to tell us what’s up with you?” Julie asked, her mouth full of bread.

  “You have no tact whatsoever,” Raharim complained.

  “Pretty sure the time for tact is over,” Bori scoffed. “Our boy here just killed Gold-Cores earlier like he was gutting fish. I, for one, would like to finally know what his deal is.”

  “Not to mention the Arts he used…” Alvine murmured.

  Eri readied himself to explain, but Joarris interrupted before he could get a word out.

  “You saved our lives. You don’t owe us an explanation,” the man said calmly. “In fact, it’s probably best if you tell us as little as possible.”

  Everyone turned to stare at him, expressions in varying levels of incredulity.

  That was… incredibly generous, considering the circumstances.

  “That’s not an option—” Alvine tried, but Joarris interrupted her.

  “This is my decision as the leader. I’m invoking the trust and authority all of you gave me to make the choices necessary to get us out alive,” he said. “If you need a practical reason beyond gratitude at the fact that he just saved all our lives, consider this: we still need him to escape the port and make it to safety. Having him amicable to us is vastly more important than satiating our pointless curiosity.”

  “It’s hardly pointless. We can’t trust him if we don’t know what he is,” Bori complained. “I’m all for not killing him when we haven’t heard his explanation, but right now, you are denying even the explanation.”

  “He doesn’t need our trust as much as we need him to stay helpful and cooperative,” Joarris flatly countered. “An unsatisfactory discussion about his origins could potentially lead to more distrust. Any disagreements right now could be fatal. There is no need for us to take that risk. Moreover, there is danger in knowing too much as well. Whatever secrets he carries could come with complications we are not ready to handle.”

  His party remained hesitant. Joarris stared them all down, unflinching. “This is my decision, and it is final. If that makes you unhappy, you are free to quit the party, but I will only allow it after we make it out of this cesspit in one piece, even if I have to tie you up and drag you out myself.”

  Eventually, though their dissatisfaction and burning curiosity remained, they saw the rationale in Joarris’s words and backed down.

  “... Thank you,” Eri whispered.

  “There is no need for thanks,” Joarris replied, eyes softening. “You saved our lives. We won’t forget that, no matter how you did so.”

  The man straightened up. “Now, let’s focus on getting out of here alive.”