Alkaios POV
It's natural to assume that starting an adventure would be a source of enjoyment, characterized by excitement and intrigue, similar to the adventures described in various books. The thing that everyone failed to mention to me was that the walk turned out to be exceedingly monotonous. People rarely mention in their accounts that reaching the specific place requires a lot of walking, which sometimes takes several days.
Yes, I could dash straight to Mount Pelion in Thessaly right now, but the idea seemed unappealing. Now, I live in a world with a bright sky and nights filled with the glow of stars instead of city lights. When the sunset arrived here, the fading light cast long shadows and a golden glow over everything. When the stars emerged, they didn't have to contend with smog; they shone brightly, dominating the sky like a multitude of frigid, radiant lights.
Rather than rushing through history as though I were a speed runner, I chose a more leisurely pace.
As I breathed in, the forest's scent of pine needles and damp earth invigorated me. I watched as rabbits, with a flash of white tails, vanished into the dense thickets, and goats gracefully clambered over the rocks. The stream's song echoed in the distance as water flowed over the stones, and I understood how the ancients saw spirits: they lived in a world where nature's presence was a palpable, watchful thing.
I remember from my past life, the journey from Arcadia to Pelion required a week of constant walking under the blistering sun. I wanted to savor every moment, every sensory experience.
A bitter thought circled endlessly in my head, surrounded by nature's abundance.
It's easy to see why the Gods and spirits of Gaia become enraged.
If you could see what humans would do to a world like this, centuries later... it would make you understand the desire for divine retribution. Given the potential for future destruction, I find myself in agreement.
As I was enjoying nature, I suddenly heard a scream in the distance.
"HELP!"
Before my mind could fully process the situation, my body had already taken action. The idea of a strategy didn't cross my mind, nor did I consider any potential consequences that might arise. My legs propelled me forward at such a speed that the grass became a blur, while the wind's force echoed loudly against my ears.
I emerged from a stand of low trees, and the scene resembled a painting in progress, with a small, barefoot girl scrambling backward in the dirt, her dress torn at the hem. She was being loomed over by two men, who were both wielding knives. A third man was circling at a wide berth, and he was laughing as if the entire scene was sport.
When the girl's gaze connected with mine, her face lit up with such a powerful expression of hope that it was nearly difficult to look at.
When the bandit saw me, his reaction was a scoff, full of scorn, accompanied by the words, "A child?"
Sadly, he couldn't finish what he was saying. With a practiced move, my sword left the scabbard, the steel gleaming in the dim light.
The first man didn't realize someone had cut him until he was already falling, his weight slamming against the dirt. With a choking grunt, he collapsed, the loud thud of his body against the ground the only sound that echoed.
The second bandit tried to turn. The rough sound of Boots scraping the ground, Shoulders twisted, but the words vanished before he could shout; it was too late. I moved forward, closed the gap, and in a single, swift motion, plunged the blade into him. The sickening, soft give of flesh abruptly followed the ripping of the fabric.
The third stood frozen, the words dying on his lips as the horrifying truth struck him a breath too late. He still raised his knife, his face contorted in a grimace as he mistook his fear for bravery.
Taking a step forward, I delivered a single, decisive cut, bringing it to a close.
The abrupt return of silence was so swift that it seemed almost unreal. I stood there for a moment, my sword slick with blood, the chill of the air seeping into my bones, and a single, terrifying thought flashed in my mind.
'That was easy.' Then another thought followed right behind it—worse, quieter, more honest, 'is it wrong that I felt nothing?'
In a logical sense, if I had not moved, it is likely they would have killed her, or perhaps something even more terrible would have occurred. My mind and body agreed about what they knew. But my chest was unmoving, unstirred by the usual tremors, sickness, or the sudden fear of having taken the first human I'd ever taken.
I forced myself to breathe, the simple, absent feeling of the completed task leaving me lightheaded as I inhaled. With a flick of my wrist, I flung the blood away from Reid and then sheathed it.
I knelt down so as not to appear to be a giant towering above her.
"Are you okay, little lady?" I kept my voice soft on purpose.
Her sobs wracked her body as she tried to stop crying, and she wiped her dirty fingers across her face. I dug into my haversack and pulled out a clean rag, offering it to her.
"I don't have a proper cloth, but you can use this to clean your tears. My name is Alkaios. What's your name, young miss?"
She paused, as if she believed it was a trick, and then grasped it with both hands, removing tears along with a smear of someone else's blood from her cheek.
"E-Eleni," she managed. Her voice trembled, but there was steel underneath it. "My name is Eleni."
"Now, Eleni, are there any more bandits?" I asked.
Her expression shifted dramatically in the blink of an eye. The feeling of relief abruptly shifted and turned into a state of fear.
She seized my arm with a grip that was tight enough to inflict pain. "Yes! Alkaios, please… those men said they're going to attack Koutalas!"
I had never heard of Koutalas in my life. All I know is that they were being crushed by people more powerful than themselves.
I stared down the road in the direction she pointed and felt something strange in my chest—an ache, like a compass needle tugging under my ribs. It had been there for days, faint and annoying. The closer I'd gotten to this region, the sharper it had become. Now, with danger confirmed, that feeling practically pulled. It puzzled me until it clicked.
Path of the Hero.
There was no audible guidance, no pronouncements, and no sense of a coming prophecy; instead, I only felt the subtle pressure of the world, pushing me toward the role of a Hero.
As I looked into Eleni's eyes, where I could see both hope and fear, I thought about the important question at hand.
'Am I ready for this? Before, I was reacting to save a life, but now have to decide. Am I going to stop or go to Koutalas to save these but potentially take more lives?..... Yeah, I am. I chose this; I am a Hero.'
Looking at Eleni's hopeful eyes, I told her.
"Take me to Koutalas Eleni."
Her eyes sparkled as if I had given her a star, and she took off at a run. Eleni, while we were running to Koutalas, stated that it was a simple farming village, and it reminded me of Stymphalos. While the overall count of bandits was uncertain, my knowledge of similar situations in the past suggested that these groups usually comprised a substantial number of individuals.
'Must be at least 20 or more, won't take much to pillage a small farming village.' I thought about all the potential enemies.
Koutalas appeared the way poor villages do in every era: small houses hunched close together, as if huddling could ward off the world. Fields stretched beyond—good soil, wide space—and yet something felt wrong before we even reached the gate.
A skinny dog watched us on the roadside, its ribs so prominent they resembled a cage, but it made no sound and did not show friendliness, its tail not wagging; it simply stared. My first real observation of the civilians happened when we went in, and I recognized they were not only "poor."
Drained.
The children's cheeks were sunken, their hands were cracked and stained with dirt, and their bellies were swollen because of hunger and the lack of proper sustenance; their hair was dull and their clothes were mended again and again until they could barely be called clothes. At that moment, I set my eyes forward, and I saw him.
In the village's heart, a man stood alongside a woman who appeared utterly exhausted, as if she hadn't rested for an extended period. He displayed broad shoulders and an air of pride, wearing a clean, well-kept tunic, and leather sandals that had no twine repairs. A ring adorned one finger, its surface reflecting and catching the surrounding light.
His face appeared full and healthy, and he gave the impression of being well-nourished. My chest tightened, a searing heat blossoming within, threatening to consume me before I calmed myself, not letting my rage consume me. I had an inkling of who he was.
"Eleni, please bring me to the Koutalas leader? I need to ask him some questions," I asked.
Eleni nodded eagerly, pleased to see the town receiving help. She took me toward the center of the village, near the well-dressed men and women. It looked like the women were pleading with the man to help.
Eleni, with a gasp, screamed, her voice cracking as she saw the woman and scrambled toward them, her voice cracking as she called out, "MOM!"
The woman whirled around with a gasp and grabbed Eleni in a fierce hug, as if she feared she'd disappear if she let go. She buried her face in Eleni's hair, and a soft sound escaped her, like a breath caught between sadness and happiness.
I watched the mother's form shake slightly as she held her daughter, her grip firm. As I inspected, I saw calluses and splits on the knuckles, and the dirt under the nails, which never seemed to wash out. The elbows of her dress were visibly patched with a different fabric, and her sandals were crudely mended with thick reed cord.
My gaze found the man, who was standing silently near Eleni's mother. Before Eleni could say a word, I saw a palpable tension wash over the villagers. They didn't just glance at him; they glanced away. A boy carrying a basket looked at Andreas, then slowed, his head dropping as if the basket had become impossibly heavy. An old man on a stone step moved his cane and shrank back, trying to disappear. I could see a mother move her child behind her skirt. Their automatic response, perfected by practice, revealed more than gossip ever could.
Eleni's mother spotted me and turned away, quickly wiping her face as if ashamed of her tears.
"Thank you," she said, voice tight. "Eleni told me you saved her. I can't thank you enough. My name is Irida. If you need anything while you're in Koutalas—"
Irida's voice caught in her throat because Andreas had moved from his previous spot. He moved forward with a polite smile, but a closer look showed that his eyes did not reflect the expression.
"Ah, young Eleni." Andreas's voice was warm in that disgusting way men get when they want to sound gentle while everyone knows they can be cruel. "See, Irida? There was nothing to worry about."
Irida's posture became rigid, and not subtly, as her shoulders tensed, resembling a prey animal's reaction to the perceived threat of a predator's teeth.
Andreas turned to me with the same fake warmth. "I hear this young boy helped her." He extended a hand. "You have my thanks. I am Andreas—leader of Koutalas."
When I shook his hand, I noticed how soft his palm was. It wasn't the hand of a worker, but of someone used to getting things. He clapped me on the shoulder, as if we were comrades, and steered me away from Irida and Eleni. His grip wasn't painful, but it felt possessive, like he wanted to control the conversation.
As I glanced behind me, Irida came into view, and the expression she wore while observing me was not one of thankfulness but a sign of caution, and with a slight nod, I conveyed my understanding of her message.
As Andreas guided me through the village, I allowed myself to look around, and with each passing moment of observation, the uglier the view became. I noticed a granary close to the center of the area, and it had a fresh seal affixed to its door, with the rope appearing thick and newly installed. Like statues, two Guardsmen stood with spears, and the iron lock was not of inferior quality.
Just a few meters off, an old woman sat on a step, her fingers trembling as she scraped burnt bits from a pot, trying to conjure a meal from nothing. A man with a swollen jaw hauled water, his skin ashen with fatigue, and his eyes held a dullness that spoke of chronic hunger, not just a passing hardship. Nearby, a girl, far too young to be so weary, washed cloth in a basin of water so murky it could hardly be called clean.
Andreas continued to speak as if nothing was wrong. He showed me the fields, pointed out the houses, and spoke of "order" and "stability" with a smug confidence, like someone who'd never had to choose between eating and keeping their self-respect.
'No matter the time or world, some things never change. Now the question is, is he helping the bandits or just a corrupt mayor?' I thought to myself as ignored Andreas talking.
Then my cloak trembled Not from the wind or any movements I made.
It Trembled with feeling.
A whisper-like pressure pressed against my mind, not words spoken aloud but concepts sharp enough to taste.
Murderer, Swine, Oath-breaker, Betrayer.
As my fingers moved without conscious thought to the border of the cloak, I understood that Astraea's gift was not just an ordinary piece of fabric, but something capable of judgment.It possessed the ability to detect unfairness, similar to how a hunting dog can instinctively identify the scent of blood.
I maintained a blank expression so as not to react, and I permitted Andreas to continue with his speech. The feeling of rage welled up, a familiar burning in my chest.
Then Andreas said it.
"Alkaios," Andreas started, giving me a sideways glance as if trying to figure out how to manage me. "I've heard about your victory over the Stymphalian birds. Koutalas needs protecting. Would you be willing to be our guardian? I can assure you, your… help… will be beneficial to all of us."
I came to a halt. Andreas, with a smile still gracing his features, gradually reduced his pace and turned slightly. What truly resonated with me was the way the entire village seemed to hold its breath. Nearby villagers paused, a child stopped chewing, and a woman froze, holding a bundle in her arms. There was a sense of foreboding as they realized something was about to transpire.
It appears they have seen this situation unfold before: Andreas in conversation with an individual of influence, who then either disappeared, or became another pawn under his command.
My gaze fell upon Andreas's pristine tunic. The sealed granary, then the ribs of the boy behind him, and subsequently, Irida's stiff posture became apparent. The tiny restraints within me violently broke.
I reached up, grabbed the hand Andreas still had resting on my shoulder, and twisted it, hearing the sickening snap of a bone breaking.
Andreas's strangled cry echoed as he dropped to his knees, the coarse ground abrading his skin, and his cracked smile met my gaze. I stared at Andreas, and my eyes spoke volumes of my disgust.
"You think someone blessed by the Goddess of Justice wouldn't know what you've done?" I asked, my voice a quiet, furious whisper.
The village went silent as Andreas tried to get away, but I was focusing my Aura, and my grip was incredibly strong, so he couldn't move.
Andreas hesitated, his smile stiff and forced, like a mask pulled too tight. Then, he looked away, past everyone, toward the edge of the street—toward the men who were waiting.
"Guards!" Andreas barked, voice cracking sharp through the square. "Men—here! Now!"
The movement began with two shadows, quickly escalated to three, and subsequently involved a growing number of shadows. As if they had been part of the village's everyday view, lean figures in cloaks moved away from doorways and alleys, their hands already positioned on their spear shafts and sword hilts. Unlike the expressions of curiosity and worry seen in the eyes of others, their eyes conveyed a sense of being paid, rather than displaying any other emotion.
The villagers reacted like animals hearing thunder. Conversations died mid-breath. Mothers dragged children backward. Irida's hand tightened around Eleni's shoulder so hard Eleni winced, and still she didn't let go.
Although I had brought him down, Andreas' confidence was returning as he straightened his back while his men were spreading out behind him.
"You hear that?" he said, smile widening again, but now it had teeth. "This is my village. I don't care what goddess you claim. You don't accuse me in front of my people and walk away."
Andreas employed his free hand to point a finger, which was aimed directly at me.
"Take him." Andreas ordered.
The first guard attacked suddenly, moving low, as if he had performed this action countless times before, his blade positioned to strike my ribs, rather than aiming for my throat. It was a practical strike, and the man who delivered it knew that people flinch, and that this moment of hesitation is all that is required.
I did not flinch, but I moved, and my left hand stayed clamped around Andreas's wrist, which was still twisted at the wrong angle, a result of the moment I forced him down. Andreas's fingers were pale from the pressure, and his breath came in quick, panicked bursts; however, I did not allow him to pull free from my grasp.
I hauled him forward. I yanked Andreas violently in front of me, using him as a screaming, fleshy shield. The guard's blade stopped just short of Andreas's stomach. Not because the guard suddenly found his conscience, but because even mercenaries understand one rule: you don't stab the person who's paying you unless you're prepared to die immediately after.
The guard's gaze darted between Andreas and me, a hesitant confusion spreading across his face. Andreas let out a sound, a mixture of fury and dread. "You—!"
I tightened my grip, and something in his wrist snapped with a sickening sound, followed by a raw, strangled shout. His knees nearly gave way, and he tried to pull free, but I held him upright, like a puppet on strings.
"Back," I said, calm as stone.
No one budged. They all stared at Andreas. That was my chance. Before the guard could react, I was in his space. My sword slid out smoothly, efficiently—no fancy moves, no theatrics. Just steel, and purpose.
At speeds few could match, Reid slashed the guard's chest. The guard stumbled backward, blood welling from his wounds. His weapon slipped from his grasp as he crumpled, disbelief contorting his features–as if the world had just shifted beneath his feet.
The second man, quick and clever, tried to circle me, aiming for my blind side. I pivoted, with Andreas still in tow. His body swung around, a sudden obstacle. The second man mid-swing checked himself, his eyes widening. And that hesitation cost him.
I lunged and slammed Reid down, my sword connecting with the second guard's collarbone in a swift, brutal strike. It was enough to end the fight quickly. He stumbled back, gasping for air that wouldn't come. Finally, his body gave him the okay to quit, and he collapsed.
They finally understood. They weren't up against a temperamental kid. This was something else entirely, something that didn't give a damn about their threats, their superior numbers, or that they were men. They fanned out, attempting to encircle me: three in front, two to my left, and one hanging back with a spear, as if he needed a moment to work up his nerve.
The villagers packed behind me, pressed against the walls and doorways. I saw Irida clutching Eleni tightly. Old men clutched their walking sticks as if they could be weapons, knowing they weren't. I saw hunger, fear, and something far worse: resignation.
'They're used to losing,' I realized, and the thought made my chest go tight with anger I couldn't afford to show.
"Alkaios!" someone cried.
Desperate to earn his keep before it became his tomb, the next guard lunged. He swung at my legs, but I sidestepped the blade. As his momentum carried him forward, I dropped my sword and grabbed his forearm with the same hand, using his own force against him. He hit the ground hard. Before he could recover, I brought my hand down in a swift blow to his head. The only mercy was that it was fast.
As a spear lunged toward my throat, aiming for my blind spot, I tilted my head to the side, causing the spear's point to cut through the air without making contact, and I immediately raised my hand in response.
"Dona."
The ground under the spearman's feet shifted. A sudden buckle at the ankle caused the spearman to fall. I picked up Reid from the ground and with the flat of my blade to knock his weapon aside and followed immediately with a cut that dropped him to the earth like a marionette with its strings severed.
Two guards remained, staring at the bodies. Then they turned to Andreas. He was still in my grasp, and now he was visibly shaking. His face was pale, his wrist bent at an unnatural angle, and his air of authority had vanished, replaced by the reality of a hostage on his own road.
"Protect Andreas!" one shouted, voice cracking.
They hesitated once more. Protecting him meant holding back. I was forcing a decision from every angle. Leaning in close to Andreas, I lowered my voice.
"This is who you are," I hissed. "You don't lead. You hide behind people."
Andreas's eyes blazed with hatred. Yet beneath it, fear—genuine fear—was clear, as the villagers witnessed his powerlessness. The remaining guards acted in unison: one charged at me, hoping to knock my blade away from Andreas, while the other, a coward, circled toward the villagers, the easier targets, seeking an advantage.
My stomach twisted with cold fury, and I exhaled sharply. Then, I moved as if I had made the choice long ago. I shoved Andreas sideways, right into the oncoming man's path—close enough that he had to pull his blow, close enough that his arms locked up for a heartbeat.
That split second was all I needed. I slipped past his defenses and brought him down in one swift motion—the blade met almost no resistance. Then, I turned and faced the last guard, throwing Andreas at him with a surge of magic coursing through me.
Andreas flew and slammed into the last guard. I heard the guard groan in pain, and Andreas whimpered. I stepped forward, swung Reid's hilt, and smashed it into the guard's head with enough force that a crack echoed, ending his life.
I grabbed the tattered front of Andreas' tunic, hauling him closer. My head cocked slightly, and I narrowed my eyes. "Answer me. Why are you the only person in this village who doesn't look half-starved?"
I wanted to hear the answer to Andreas's question, despite us both knowing it, and his face had turned pale in the meantime.
"Andreas, I asked you something, but I'll repeat it since you might not have heard me. Why is it you're the only one in this village who looks like they've actually eaten a proper meal?"
Andreas's face flushed purple as he glared at me, seething. "Don't you know who I am, brat? I'm blessed by the God Priapus! I'm the reason these fields yield such abundant food. You should all be GRATEFUL!"
Andreas screamed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. He then whipped his head toward me, his voice laced with venom. "You think you're so superior, blessed by the Goddess Astraea? All I've heard from the merchants lately is about how little Alkioas Astraea, barely eight years old, is already a hero. It makes me SICK! I knew you'd be traveling through Koutalas to reach Mount Pelion. I hired those bandits to ambush you, but they couldn't even kill a little girl. How pathetic."
I stared at Andreas, disgusted, and shook my head before letting go of him, my voice icy.
"You could have chosen any path, but you exploited your own people. I've been fortunate, more so than most, and I won't deny that. But I used my gifts to help others, just as you hurt them. I see your people starving, while you, Andreas, are as fat as a pig. What does that say about how you've used your power? There's more than enough food for everyone, yet everyone but you goes hungry. Being blessed by the gods doesn't make us less human. Yet you've abandoned your humanity for your own pleasure. You will receive punishment for your crimes, Andreas. You will confess your actions to the village, and they will decide your fate."
I turned away from Andreas, glanced back over my shoulder, and said, "Let's go, criminal. Your judgment day has arrived."
I turned to leave Andreas when I heard him bellow. Then, I heard the metallic scrape of a sword being drawn, followed by Eline's scream. "Alkaios, behind you!"
Letting out a weary sigh, I braced myself for Andreas's onslaught. "DIE!" he roared, his voice filled with rage.
Andreas used his strength to swing his sword. In my peripheral vision, I noticed the sword was moving toward my neck. The sound of his sword's feeble strikes was the sole noise reverberating around the village. My Aura completely blocked the attack, and it muffled the sword's impact as if it had struck the earth. I gazed at Andreas, my eyelids only partly open.
"Seriously? You actually thought that would work? That I'd just turn my back to you without a backup plan?" I challenged.
Suddenly, my cloak separated into individual threads, which were a mixture of blue and gold, and these threads then coiled around Andreas. I directed my attention towards a man from the village, who seemed to be a butcher based on his appearance.
"Can you gather all the villagers? We have a criminal to judge. Bring everyone to the town center. The people of Koutalas have every right to judge Andreas." I asked
The butcher, selected without delay, bowed and replied. "Yes, my Lord, I'll summon them immediately," he said, then hurried off.
The butcher cast one last look of disgust at Andreas before going to gather everyone in Koutalas at the village center.
"My God will save me. You won't get away with this," Andreas told me, confident in his patron's help.
I couldn't help but scoff at Andreas before yanking the golden thread, sending him sprawling. I knelt beside him. "Your god's greatest accomplishment was apparently a size comparison to a donkey. You've broken your oath and betrayed this village. You should know how Lord Zeus feels about oath-breakers."
Andreas paled at my words before I punched him in the face, knocking him out.
Andreas POV
'Ugh, my head. What happen? Wait, that Brat, where am I!' I thought in panic
Looking around, all he could see were the people of this shithole gathering around, looking at me with looks of anger. It was then that I saw him standing away from me. I saw the BRAT.
'How dare he ruin everything! Doesn't know who I am who blessed me.' I thought, enraged.
The Brat then started speaking his words, sending chills down my spine.
"Citizens of Koutalas, today we are here to judge Andreas of Koutalas for his crimes. Does anyone have anything to add?" the Brat spoke.
One by one, I saw my ungrateful citizens list my crimes.
"Thief," "Murderer," "Treason," "Assault," "Sabotage."
After watching all these ungrateful people speak, the Brat turned to me.
"Any words to say in defense, Andreas of Koutalas?" Alkiaos spoke.
Looking around, I tried to find someone to help me, even for his God, for some sign, but nothing appeared. I dropped my head before looking up, speaking with rage.
"Yeah, I did it. So, what! If it weren't for me, you all would have died from hunger. I'm proud of what I did. If you all kill me, no one is going to stop the bandits from attacking at dawn. So, if you all want to live, you'll let me go." I spit out.
There was silence before I saw the Brat look to the crowd.
"What is the judgment of Andreas of Koutalas?" Alkiaos spoke.
There was no sound before an older woman came forward. I recognize her. I killed her husband last week. The older woman stared at me before speaking.
"Death." The adults chanted the word like a rising tide; their pronouncements were my sentence. That's when the Brat forced me to my knees. I struggled, but his cursed cloak held me fast.
"Dona," the Brat spoke suddenly. The earth opened, creating a stone stock where he forced my head into.
"Dona," the Brat said again. The ground opened, the size just right for a head.
Despite my attempts to escape the situation, I could not do so as my hands were turning red from the strain of trying to pull them away from my face.
"Lord Priapus, please, I've followed your words, your instructions, so please save me!" I cried out.
However, despite all the supplications, there was not a single God who provided an answer. The sound of a sword being drawn reached my ears, and I looked over to see the Brat lift his weapon up high.
"Andreas of Koutalas, I judge you guilty of your crimes to the people of Koutalas, by the power given to me by the Goddess Astraea, the Lady of Justice. Any last words?" the Brat spoke.
I could have sworn that as the Brat stared at me, I saw the Goddess Astraea regarding me with a look of contempt.
Before speaking my last words, I stared intently at the Brat.
"I'll see you in the fields of punishment, boy," I spoke.
The moment I finished speaking, I observed the Brat swing his sword, followed by a complete loss of consciousness.
Alkaios POV
Having witnessed Andreas' body become lifeless, with his head dropping into the hole that I had created, I then turned my attention to the village priest and gave him instructions.
"Make sure he gets proper rights. Andreas may have died, but he needs to face his punishment in the underworld." I spoke.
As the priest nodded in affirmation, he prepared himself to administer the burial rites to Andreas.
"My Lord, what about the bandits who will arrive?" the priest asked me.
After surveying the assembled crowd, a line from Bleach came to mind, prompting a smirk to form on my face.
"The bandits are no threat to you. After all, there's no greater security with me here," I spoke.
I proceeded towards the village gates, ready and willing to defend the village from any threats. A thought occurred to me, and I couldn't stop myself from reflecting on it.
'Well, I said this journey was becoming dull,' I thought in amusement.
Chapter 4: Crime and Punishment Chapter End