*
If she were to categorise herself, then she'd probably call herself an ally of humanity. After all, she answers to the duties of a magical girl and defends humanity. Even her current role as a hero was a mere extension of her duties as a whole. However, it's not like she'd have any qualms committing crimes if she thought it was required for an important matter. Could this be called important? Well, it concerns where she had to live for a while.
A stealth skill she recently gained, in other words she was squatting in one of the inns without paying. Staying in her room undetected, she was exhausted after fighting the goblin army just this noon. Upon making contact with the bedsheets, her limbs felt like jelly and she collapsed onto the softness. She calls out to her skill,
Hero class:
Lv 3 -
Lv 5 -
Lv 6 -
Lv 9 -
Lv 12 -
Lv 15 -
Lv 18 -
Lv 21 -
Lv 24 -
Lv 25 -
Lv 27 -
Lv 30 -
Lv 33 -
Lv 36 - <7 guardians' heart>
Lv 39 -
Lv 42 -
Level 2 allowed her to block
Not to mention the concept of stacking buffs by yourself likely doesn't exist, at most people would have a singular buff skill. She had buffs for different conditions and multiple of them for certain stats. Naturally, this assumes that people gain skills the same way she did, via levelling up combined with what class they had. For that matter, could someone choose their class in this world?
Examining the details carefully, she sat quietly on the bed. Her legs shifted a bit and she had changed to light household wear. She came to this world with only her combat dress, and while the space is small was able to act as magic inventory that could store some belongings for her. It was only through scavenging the ruins of that village that she found these clothes. The most intact ones were still torn in many places, and these were just the rags that survived without getting burned.
There wasn't really an inner and outer wear in this economy, but there was base layer and outdoor peripherals like super thick coats and boots. Her outfit consisted of trousers and a shirt that drags down below the hip, as well as a belt. Looking at it now, her combat dress would either give off the impression of a noble or an alien altogether. Dye and soft silky cloth is expensive.
She could feel the coarse fabric of the bed shifting under her butt, it was an inn that could be found anywhere. If she were to be asked if she chose a nicer inn on purpose, she couldn't deny it. Modern sensibilities naturally gave her higher standards, not to mention it was more likely for cheaper inns to be filled with occupants. It was only a quiet place here that she coincidentally found that suited her. She exhaled softly, she was still conscious of illegally occupying this room, so her actions tended to be more discrete during her stay here. Well, it was still only the first night.
As if betraying her thoughts, the door flew off the hinge as a girl she didn't know busted in. The gale from the force hit her face, shaking up the stale air of this supposedly empty room. Her mana reserves were enough to sustain her stealth for an entire day, there was even a slight reality correction type effect, where people were mentally nudged away from this room without notice. You could call it mind control, but all it did was that if they had this room in their vague thoughts, they would quickly forget about it like inconsequential homework from school.
That's why, if they had an obsession as strong as this girl's, there's not even a bit of a chance for the suggestion to work on her. Taking a couple steps, her chest heaved heavily as she stared at Lastia with a dumbfounded expression. Lacking oxygen, her sight had darkened but she could still spot a stranger in her room clear as day. Rather, it was only her room because it was supposed to be empty... Reserved for her by the inn.
She rushed here and she was tired, if she needed to fight to the death, she needed the resolve to do it. She was too exhausted for the sword, so she pulled out her dagger and shifted her naturally lowered stance in wariness. Well oiled, it gleamed under the inn's lone bedside candle. It featured a conventional crossguard in matt black with a single jewel embedded in the round pomel. A faint trace of magic could be felt from the dagger, from the jewel to be specific. This world was fought with swords and magecraft, a family heirloom dagger would naturally be enchanted. Maybe it was Lastia who was weird for being fascinated by such meagre displays of magic.
Her own magic when compared to it would be like a lake against a drop of water in a cup. The dagger is meant to be wielded, there are some marks of wear and tear down its edge, so is enchantment magic meant for low mana individuals like a swordsman? For her it certainly was novel to let a none magical girl use magic. However, in the end mercy is only for those with leeway to give. She's a vagrant invading upon this noble's hideout, likely being pursued by some internal force in her house. For a noble, the threats are more likely found inside the house than outside, those outside are just the hired hands of some distant relative aiming for the head position.
Was familial love the right of the commoner? She casted and brought out her great sword. There was no need to do her combat dress here, the majority of humans are going to be lower level than her. At this point, iron swords will break on her skin.