The bright white stone bricks stretched the great kingdom of Heldholme, humanity's most outstanding achievement.
Standing proudly on the horizon, these walls glimmered beneath the midday sun, a testament to centuries of architectural brilliance and humankind's unwavering ambition. Crafted by master stonemasons long ago, each polished brick told a silent story of Heldholme's storied past, where legends were born and heroes revered.
The high streets of Heldholme bustled with traders and knights clad in polished iron armor, Heldholme's symbol, a roaring lion with a large mane, carved into the armor.
Vendors of all sorts peddled exotic wares from colorful stalls—sacks of rare spices, handcrafted trinkets, and potions said to grant good luck—while the clang of metal on metal echoed from blacksmiths forging new weapons nearby. Even under the bright sun, the reflection of knights' armor flickered like miniature beacons, each engraved lion's head signifying the city's pride and nobility.
Different species filled the streets, ranging from Elves to Beastfolk, all in the grand city of Heldholme for one of two reasons. Either to make a better living by using their trade to their fullest potential, or to become one of the 12 Sword Saints of the Holden Table.
This legendary group of warriors was spoken of in hushed, reverent tones in every corner of the realm, from far-flung villages to bustling capitals. Travelers arrived daily, hopeful that destiny might favor them in this land of opportunity.
An honor so grand, even the fiercest of foes would slightly tremble at the mention of their name.
Throughout battlefields and banquet halls, the 12 Sword Saints were synonymous with courage and might, their deeds woven into the fabric of heroic ballads.
A young man strides confidently in these streets but seems to be in a rush. His hair was a dark orange but was very messy and unkept. He wore armor on his shoulders and knees and a small white cape on his right shoulder. On his hip was a Raiper with a hilt engraved with blind folded maidens as he strides past vendors who attempt to get his attention while politely refusing their deals.
He moved with purposeful steps, barely sparing a glance for the curious eyes on him. Despite the hurried rhythm of his boots against the cobblestone, he exuded a particular self-assurance—a hint of a promising warrior whose destiny might lead him to the highest ranks of Heldholme's defenders.
"Shisan!" a feminine voice calls out, catching the young man's attention. Shisan turns around to see a shorter female with a wooden staff and a small star levitating in the hole of the staff, jogging toward him.
Her voice carried both familiarity and exasperation, the sound of a companion who had long grown used to Shisan's antics.
Her hair is black and long. She wears a cloak and tall black wizard's hat, and her outfit is endowed with stars.
Sparkling constellations were embroidered into the dark fabric, giving her an otherworldly presence, as though the cosmos itself had lent her its power.
"You idiot! How did you forget your Holden Crest?!" Shisan braces as the female smacks Shisan on top of the head with the staff.
Her wooden staff thumped smartly against Shisan's skull, the tiny star at its head bobbing as if equally scolding him for his carelessness.
"Ow! I told you, Yuchan! It was the people next door!" Shisan attempts to defend himself again as Yuchan readies another strike.
He rubs the fresh bump, wincing exaggeratedly, though his protest is only half-serious.
"Were they fighting or something?" Yuchan asks curiously, hovering her staff over her head.
The star within the staff swirled in faint arcs, reflecting the mage's inquisitive mood.
Shisan puts his hand on his chin, closing his eyes.
"Yes, it was very intense, the one the female called 'Daddy' must've been quite the opponent," Shisan nodded with a smirk on his face, content with his excuse.
He assumed a thoughtful pose, as though recounting a truly grave duel, though the mischievous twitch of his lips betrayed the fundamental nature of his words.
His smirk is broken when the wooden staff brings wrath upon his head again. Yuchan continuously hits Shisan over the head with the staff, calling him a 'Pervert' in the process as Shisan covers his head and grits his teeth in an attempt to reduce the damage.
Passersby paused briefly to watch the display, some chuckling at the sight of the fiery wizard disciplining her companion. Shisan's cheeks reddened under the public humiliation, but he didn't seem truly angry—this was simply part of their routine.
"Now now you kids," a stern, exhausted voice comes from the crowd, separating the crowd to make space for three knights to enter within their view.
The onlookers parted like the tide, stepping back to make room for authority.
The knight in the middle is an older man with a goatee, messy black hair, and heavy dark eyebags.
His posture spoke of countless battles fought and won, and a weariness that settled into his very bones.
Shisan stands up straight, and Yuchan smiles at the man as if she hadn't just beaten Shisan seconds ago.
The mood shifts from playful skirmish to disciplined respect in a heartbeat, evidence of how highly they regard this newcomer.
"I'm not sure this type of behavior is becoming of an upcoming Sword Saint, Little Shi." The man signaled the other two guards away.
His tone held the quiet authority of someone who had mentored many a young knight-in-training.
"C-Commander!" Shisan couldn't spit out another word before Yuchan spoke.
He stiffened, nearly fumbling his words as he tried to balance both deference and nervousness.
"The idiot overslept and left his Holden Crest in his room," Shisan heavily cringed at Yuchan. The Commander chuckled slightly.
A small, knowing smile creased the Commander's lips, as if he had seen this exact situation play out many times before.
"I guess some things never change, even after you reach the Hero status," The commander glances at Shisan's Raiper.
His eyes lingered on the weapon, gauging not just its craftsmanship but the bond its wielder had with it.
"How is your Relic treating you?" Shisan rubs his rapier with a soft smile.
He takes a moment, letting his fingers trace the blindfolded maidens etched into the hilt, an almost reverent gesture.
"Would it be wrong to say I wouldn't know what to do without it?"
His voice quivered with a mix of pride and humility—the rapier was more than just metal and magic; it was part of who he was.
"Not at all, it's attached to your very soul now. But don't forget, Sword Saints don't rely on their weapons to defend Heldholme,"
The Commander's words held a gentle reminder that true strength came from within, not merely from a blade.
"Yes, Sir," Shisan bows slightly. Yuchan smiles at the sight.
Though her earlier irritation lingered, she clearly respected Shisan's resolve and the Commander's guidance.
At the slight realization of something, Yuchan looks into the star in her staff.
Her eyes widened, as though an unspoken message had just flared within that celestial orb.
"We're late, Shisan!" Yuchan yells and starts jogging through the crowd.
Her cloak fluttered behind her as she moved, the scattered star designs seeming to twinkle with each hurried step.
Shisan bows again to the commander before running off to follow Yuchan. The commander smiles as he watches them blend into the crowd.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he gave a small sigh, perhaps recalling his own youthful days chasing after destiny.
The pair makes it to the gate, which leads to a tall, intimidating number of white stairs to a towering castle, guarded by two knights. The guards cross their halberds.
The castle's silhouette loomed high above them, each parapet and spire glistening in the sun.
"State your business and show your Crest," The guards ordered.
Their voices were firm, echoing off the stone walls with the authority of disciplined sentinels.
Yuchan steps forward, showing her Holden Crest, the Heldholme endowed in gold material sewn on a leather base.
The guards leaned in, carefully inspecting the crest's authenticity, their halberds still crossed.
"We're here to have an audience with Lady Miranda, on her accord." The guards looked at Shisan as he continued to rustle through his pockets.
The moment of tension hung in the air, broken only by Shisan's frantic patting of his armor plates, searching for the elusive Crest.
Yuchan looked back with an annoyed expression. Although she had not spoken to him, he felt her call him various names. Shisan nonchalantly pulled out his Holden Crest with a smirk.
His Crest, though belatedly produced, gleamed with a distinct aura—neither time nor carelessness had dulled its significance.
His was obsidian but with small pieces of diamond scattered throughout the crest. The guards quickly pulled back their halberds and saluted.
The sight of this unique Crest triggered immediate recognition; it was an emblem reserved for those who had proven themselves worthy of the title "Hero."
"Welcome Hero," the guards said, opening the gates to the stairs, which Yuchan and Shisan hastened to enter.
The heavy gates creaked, and a rush of cool air spilled forth, carrying the faint scent of marble halls and hidden intrigue.
After a short moment of running up the stairs, an overly exhausted Shisan leaned against a wall, preparing to throw up. Yuchan watched the pathetic Shisan attempting to catch his breath.
His face had turned a subtle shade of green, and small beads of sweat trickled down his temples.
"Hero my ass,"
She mumbled just loud enough for him—and perhaps any eavesdropping guard—to hear.
The two entered the castle and walked down the long corridors. Down every hall, there were a pair of guards and some paintings with the occasional decor.
Marble floors polished to a mirror sheen reflected their anxious faces, while grand chandeliers overhead bathed the halls in a warm, golden glow.
As they went deeper into the castle, they began to go to the lower floors, with each floor having less illumination and decor.
The light grew dim, and the walls looked older, marked by the dust of neglect. The air held a slight chill, as if fewer torches dared to burn in these depths.
Eventually, they come across a wooden door surrounded by spider webs and spiders, the hall almost entirely dark except for the single torch above the door.
Its flickering flame cast dancing shadows on the webs, making them seem like writhing shapes in the gloom.
Yuchan walked to the door and grabbed the bronze handle, but before she could open the door, Shisan stopped her.
He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder, eyes scanning the corners of the corridor as though expecting trouble.
"Hey Yuchan."
Shisan's voice trembled slightly, a sharp contrast to his usual confident tone.
"What," Yuchan responded, clearly annoyed that they were late in the first place.
Her patience was already wearing thin—any further delays would only deepen her ire.
"Do you remember our promise?" Shisan's voice grew shaky.
He swallowed hard, recalling the exact terms of a vow made in jest but now alarmingly relevant.
Yuchan looks back at a pale Shisan before pausing to think. Like a lightbulb turning on, she remembers.
She raised an eyebrow in suspicion, then let out a sigh as the realization dawned on her.
"The one where I'm supposed to set you on fire if there was ever a spider on you?" Shisan did not respond.
He merely nodded weakly, clearly dreading what might come next.
Yuchan examined Shisan in anticipation. Tiny spider legs seemed to crawl up on Shisan's shoulder. Before Yuchan did anything too rash, she continued to watch.
The tension was palpable—would she actually follow through on that dangerous promise?
The legs turned into fingers, and a silhouetted face slowly appeared behind Shisan.
A chill wind seemed to ripple down the hallway, and the torch overhead flickered ominously.
"You're lateeee~" The face spoke with a venomous tone. Shisan's skin crawled, and he jumped behind Yuchan for cover.
His heart hammered in his chest, breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to mask his sudden terror.
"Xifan!" Yuchan announced with a smile.
Her features brightened at the sight of this unexpected arrival, though an undercurrent of caution danced in her eyes.
Xifan walks forward, revealing himself from the shadows. He wore a hoodie that covered his hair and eyebrows. His eyes were sharp as a snake's, and his facial features were sharp. He wore cloth clothing that covered his body with a belt full of knives of different sizes.
A faint glimmer of steel peeking from beneath his cloak suggested he was no stranger to dangerous work, and the self-assured smirk on his lips hinted at an equally dangerous temperament.
"How will we ever explain our tardiness to Lady Miranda?" Xifan put his head in his palm.
He feigned exasperation, though his amusement at the pair's panicked state was evident.
"Simple, we blame it on Shisan." Yuchan points to Shisan, who is still hiding behind her.
Her tone was light, but the mischievous glint in her eye revealed she was more than happy to use him as the fall guy.
"Fair," Shisan surrendered.
He sighed, accepting his fate.
"Shall we convince Lady Miranda to force Shisan to treat?" Yuchan and Xifan put their hands on their chins, nodding and agreeing.
In unison, they broke into identical grins, their playful camaraderie easing the tension in the shadowy corridor. Shisan could only groan inwardly.
"Not fair," Shisan walked away from Yuchan, giving her a side eye.
Despite his grumbling, his posture spoke volumes of playful exasperation rather than true anger, and he threw one last narrowed glance over his shoulder.
"Shall we?" Xifan bowed while opening the door.
He did so with a smooth, almost theatrical flourish, as though welcoming a royal entourage rather than his two comrades.
Yuchan entered and thanked Xifan, and Shisan entered and gave Xifan a side-eye. Xifan enters behind them and shuts the door behind him.
The door's ancient hinges creaked in protest, a sound that briefly echoed down the corridor like a warning from the castle's forgotten corners.
In the door is a flight of stone stairs poorly illuminated by the torches on the wall. At the end of the stairs is another wooden door, to which Yuchan opens.
The shadows flickered ominously on the rough stone walls, each torch dancing with a timid flame that did little to dispel the gloom.
Inside is a small room with small black candle towers in every corner, leaving the middle of the room the darkest. A wooden table with a crystal orb is in the middle of the room.
A faint draft swirled around the candle towers, causing their flames to waver and send distorted shapes skittering across the floor.
Sitting in front of the orb, facing the group, is a feminine silhouette with an oversized wizard hat that covers her whole face. The group kneels before the silhouette with their heads down.
Her presence was palpable—a hushed energy that seemed to press in on them from all sides. Even without seeing her features, they could sense power and knowledge in every deliberate movement.
"I apologize for our tardiness, my Lady. I will see to it that this does not happen again," Xifan said, his voice no longer venomous but graceful and soft.
His tone contrasted sharply with his earlier sinister teasing; respect and humility tinged each word.
A voice of a multitude of pitches and volumes filled the small room.
It was as if several people spoke in harmony, weaving an otherworldly chorus that both soothed and unsettled.
"Stand my heroes, for I have foreseen this; worry not for your wrongdoings. No mistakes of tardiness would create a situation for which I am provoked. For I, myself am just a mere image of my knowledge."
The silhouette's hat shifted slightly, revealing only the faint curve of her lips, turned up in a patient, knowing smile.
The group stood and looked at the silhouette, which hovered its hand over the crystal ball.
A soft, luminescent glow formed beneath her fingertips, as if she was drawing out the secrets of the orb.
"Wait, so you still have yet to return from Bellinghide?" Xifan questioned, voice filled with curiosity.
The mere mention of Bellinghide conjured images of a harsh, mountainous land dotted with colossal stone towers—giants' territory that few dared to tread without invitation.
"No, the land of Giants has yet to grant me an audience with their Lord. It is quite the obnoxious process," The silhouette's sigh filled the room.
A hint of weariness permeated her voice, suggesting long negotiations and careful diplomacy.
"That's amazing. Your original body is across the world, yet the concept of your knowledge materialized remains strong." Yuchan said with admiration.
A gentle flicker of candlelight reflected in Yuchan's wide eyes, revealing her awe at such a display of magical prowess.
"You too will learn this, my Star Child, I am certain you will reach greater heights." Yuchan smiled.
Yuchan's cheeks flushed slightly with pride, even in the dim light.
"May I ask why you asked for our presence, my Lady?" Shisan questioned.
His voice held a careful balance of respect and urgency, as though bracing for grave news.
"I heard a voice of those beyond our world." The group wore surprised expressions.
An uneasy hush fell upon them—this was not a claim to be taken lightly, even for a realm teeming with magic and mystery.
"What?!"
The exclamation echoed, their combined shock magnified by the enclosed space.
"Yes, they relayed crucible information to me. The demon king's revival is imminent, and he will single-handedly destroy this whole world with his revival."
A hush of dread followed her words, as if an icy wind had blown through the room.
The silhouette began rubbing the crystal orb, creating lighting and fire to mix and blend.
Sparks crackled and swirled in the orb's depths, forming jagged streaks of light that danced among flickers of flame, an ominous portent of chaos.
"But we have a pact with the demons; we aren't to attack each other," Shisan said in disbelief.
He clung to the fragile hope that the centuries-old accord still carried weight, even in the face of such danger.
"They'll probably find a way around the pact. These are demons we're talking about," Xifan responded.
His voice was pragmatic, laced with the grim realism of one who had seen betrayal before.
"Take a look for yourselves." The silhouette interjected, creating a projection within the crystal ball.
As she gestured, the swirling lights within the orb coalesced into shadowy images.
Everyone watched the ball closely. The ball shows demons leading a long chain of clearly beaten-up humans into small forts. These small forts are grouped and surrounded by a more enormous wooden wall in the middle of a dark, withered forest.
A murmur of horror and indignation rippled among them. The humans' tattered clothes and haunted expressions revealed the extent of their suffering.
Xifan and Shisan watched intently as Yuchan could barely watch at all. The projection ends abruptly, causing a long silence in the room.
Tense, heavy silence settled like a shroud, the fading flickers of the orb casting ghostly after-images on their stunned faces.
"That withered forest, it's not too far off. A day's trip at the least," Shinsan put his hand on his chin, beginning to plan his next moves.
His mind raced, envisioning routes through the forest and possible strategies for rescue—should it come to that.
"We don't have permission to engage these demons, and I don't think we will ever get permission because of the pact." Xifan interrupted his chain of thought.
His words were a sobering reminder of the political quagmire they were in, bound by treaties enforced by powerful magic.
"What the hell is the pact when they're using humans as their lab rats!" Shisan yelled, clearly agitated by the situation.
His voice reverberated in the small room, a storm of raw emotion that threatened to shatter the uneasy calm.
"It doesn't matter what they're doing; you'll get banished if you go," Xifan said calmly.
He placed a steadying hand on Shisan's shoulder, attempting to ground his anger in reason.
"My Lady, would it be possible for us to get permission from his majesty?" Shisan looked at the silhouette with a slight hint of desperation.
Hope glimmered in his eyes, even as he braced for the disappointment he suspected was coming.
"I have alerted his majesty of the situation at hand. He will not take action on this." The silhouette waved its hand dismissively.
An air of finality clung to her words, making it clear that the king's decision was as resolute as the flickering flame behind her.
"What?! Why?" Shisan seems to make sense of the situation.
His disbelief was palpable, but deep down he likely understood the political ramifications.
"It's because it's a lose-lose situation; if an operation to clear that camp goes underway, we will have to sacrifice a ton of men or worse, banish a sword saint," Yuchan informed Shisan, pausing momentarily before Xifan continued for her.
Yuchan's tone softened, as though she feared crushing Shisan's heroic spirit.
"The pact is that if any human or demon kills the other party, they are to be taken out of this world by any means necessary. Plus, it's reinforced with divine magic, so the pact MUST be followed. If you go and kill a demon, you will be putting your life or his majesty's life in danger." Xifan examined the troubled expression on Shisan's face.
His gaze was steady, his words underscoring just how perilous a single misstep could be.
"Unless they're killing all the demons that's killing the humans, I don't think you'd have to worry about the humans dying." Yuchan is attempting to reassure Shisan.
Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her own uncertainty as she tried to comfort him.
"What's the point of being a hero if I just sit by, knowing well that people with families are possibly dying….?" Shisan thought deeply, reflecting on his role and his purpose in life.
A wave of self-doubt and frustration washed over him, the flickering candlelight accentuating the shadows under his eyes.
Xifan sighed.
It was a resigned sound, one that carried empathy rather than impatience.
"In the end, it's your call. What do you want to do?" Xifan questioned. Silence filled the room once again.
The weight of responsibility rested squarely on Shisan's shoulders now; a faint tension settled in the air, thick as fog.
"Whatever you may do, know my blessings are with each of you." The silhouette began to dissipate into a dark mist.
Tendrils of shadow curled away from her figure, vanishing into the gloom as though drawn through a hidden portal.
They all knelt again to the silhouette before the silhouette entirely disappeared.
The moment was solemn, as if marking the departure of a divine oracle.
They stood and huddled together, Xifan and Yuchan looking at a distressed Shisan.
The flickering candlelight traced worried lines across his face, revealing the turmoil within.
Shisan reinforced his will, gathering up his courage. His expression changed; he was scared. Scared of losing his life, but he felt as if he couldn't stand by.
His eyes hardened with the resolve of one prepared to do what he felt was right, consequences be damned.
"We'll rescue them," Shisan announced. Making Xifan sigh and Yuchan smile.
In that single pronouncement, he sealed their fates—for better or worse.
"We won't kill any demons, in and out." Shisan looked at them; no more words were exchanged, but he knew they were on board with the plan.
Though silent, their exchanged nods spoke louder than any oath. With that final vow, they braced themselves for the dangerous road ahead—one that would test the limits of their courage, loyalty, and ingenuity.