The Radiant Hero
They had barely gone a hundred steps from the city gate when a voice called out behind them.
"Wait up, you three."
Marion turned—and his stomach dropped.
Adrian.
The golden boy. Charismatic, immaculate robes, hair catching the sunlight like he was born to stand on a stage instead of in the dirt of the streets. Even now, with a lute slung casually over his shoulder, he looked composed, effortless.
Tobia whispered in awe, "Damn… that's Adrian. What's he doing here?"
Manuel narrowed his eyes. "Probably here to laugh."
But Adrian approached without a trace of mockery in his voice.
"I overheard your conversation at the Guild," he said calmly. His gaze rested directly on Marion—as if he were taking him seriously. It was unfamiliar. Almost painful. "A job in Pelata, right? Low goblins."
Marion nodded stiffly. "Yeah…"
Adrian smiled. "Then I'm coming with you."
Silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"With… us?" Tobia pointed at himself like it had to be a joke. "But… you're… you're Adrian."
"And?" Adrian shrugged lightly. "I've wanted to get out of the halls for a while. A bit of real adventure. Something that isn't written in books."
Manuel snorted. "And the money? The reward?"
"Keep it. I'm not after silver." Adrian laughed softly, and for a moment it almost made the city's misery fade. "I just want to be part of it."
A sting pierced Marion's chest.
Of course. Even here—where he wanted to impress Tamara—Adrian appeared at his side, bright, radiant, impossible to ignore.
Now the glory will belong to him again.
And yet… a flicker of relief glowed inside him.
With Adrian, they might actually survive.
"Alright," Marion said at last. "If you really want to—"
"I do," Adrian interrupted gently. "And don't worry. I won't slow you down. I can handle a sword. And a little magic."
"A little," Tobia huffed. "He says 'a little.' He'll probably cut all the goblins in half while we're still looking for matches."
Manuel muttered, "At least we'll die in good company."
The road to Pelata stretched through dusty paths and fields where bent beastfolk labored under overseers. Whips cracked. A wolf-eared boy stumbled and was immediately struck across the back.
Marion felt the familiar lump in his throat.
No one said a word.
Adrian walked in front as if born to lead. He hummed a quiet melody, taking in the landscape.
"Strange, isn't it?" he said after a while. "Inside the Academy, it feels like we're in another world. But the moment you step outside…"
He left the sentence unfinished.
Manuel nodded slowly. "Out here, life's hard."
Adrian looked at him a moment longer than necessary. Respect? Curiosity? Then he smiled again, tinged with sadness.
"That's exactly why I wanted to come. So we remember what we're actually studying for."
As the sun lowered, Pelata came into view—a small village with wooden palisades and smoking chimneys.
Even from afar, they heard shouting.
"Another sheep gone!" an old man yelled, veins bulging in his neck. "The beasts will take them all!"
"We won't deliver wool until someone does something!" a woman shouted, clutching a child's hand.
Fear and anger churned together.
When the four boys reached the gate, heads turned toward them.
"Finally!" someone called. "The Guild sent people!"
Another man laughed bitterly. "Children! Three scarecrows and a pretty boy! They're supposed to save us?"
Adrian stepped forward, his voice steady—clear as a beam of light.
"We're here to help. We'll deal with the goblins."
The villagers exchanged doubtful glances. But something in his tone steadied them. The murmuring softened.
A thin farmer with scratched hands stepped forward. "In the forest. North. Always at night. They tear sheep from the pens… sometimes right by the fence. We… we can't stop them."
His voice cracked.
"Then we'll stand watch," Adrian said. "Tonight we stay here. Tomorrow morning, we go into the forest."
Some villagers nodded. Others still looked uncertain. But no one objected.
Later, inside the village's common house, the four sat together. The room was low and smoke-darkened. Half a loaf of bread, a pot of thin soup—that was all the villagers could spare.
Tobia slurped greedily. "Still better than mess hall stew."
"Bro," Manuel muttered, "they sent us here because they thought we'd die. This is a joke."
Marion stared into the fire.
Each crackle reminded him of screams from his village. Of blood. Of Tessa.
But this time…
Tamara was his goal.
I need to bring her something. Something that proves I'm more than nobody.
Adrian set his lute aside. "We stick together. Low goblins are cunning—even the small ones. We'll set watches. Sleep in shifts."
"I'll take first watch," Marion said quickly, before anyone else could.
Adrian nodded. "Good. I'll take second. Tobia and Manuel share third."
Tobia groaned. "Perfect. When it's coldest."
"Shut up," Manuel muttered. "Better cold than dead."
Night crawled over Pelata.
Doors creaked shut. A dog howled.
Marion sat with his back against the palisade, his small practice knife resting on his knees. His eyes scanned the dark forest, where shadows moved like living things.
Behind him, Tobia and Manuel half-slept. Adrian plucked quiet notes on his lute—soft, almost comforting.
This time I have to be strong.
A rustle in the trees made Marion flinch.
Two yellow eyes flashed between the trunks.
His heart stopped—
—and then they vanished.
Animal? Or goblins?
He breathed shallowly, gripping his knife tighter.
The night was long.
On the Trail
No attack came.
Marion stared into darkness for hours until the cold sank into his bones. Only once did he think he saw two yellow points gleam between the trees—but they disappeared instantly.
Morning arrived gray and heavy with fog.
The villagers were already waiting.
"Another sheep gone!" one shouted. "They're laughing at us while you sleep!"
"We kept watch," Adrian replied calmly. "We saw none—but we'll find their trail."
Marion felt the villagers' eyes burning into his back—doubtful, accusing.
But Adrian carried himself with such quiet certainty that even the angriest fell silent.
The forest of Pelata felt like another world at dawn. Mist hung between twisted trees. Wet leaves crackled under their boots.
Soon they found signs: wool caught on thorns, blood smeared across bark, small dragging footprints in mud.
"That's them," Manuel murmured, crouching. "Six… maybe seven. Small. Light."
"Low goblins," Adrian confirmed. "Weak—but cowardly. They won't fight unless forced."
"So… we can just scare them off?" Tobia asked hopefully.
"We have to make sure they don't come back," Adrian answered. "That means finding their nest."
They followed the trail deeper into the woods. Branches clawed at their robes. Birds burst screeching from the canopy.
Once they heard a rustle—and glimpsed a small green figure dart between trees.
"They're watching us," Marion whispered, heart pounding.
Adrian nodded. "Of course. But they're afraid. That's our advantage."
After nearly an hour, they reached a narrow ravine.
Between rocks yawned a dark opening—a crude cave. The stench of fur, filth, and smoke drifted out.
"They're in there," Manuel muttered.
They stood before the entrance.
Inside, it was quiet. Only a faint whimpering sound echoed—like a hungry animal.
Tobia licked his lips nervously. "Now what?"
Adrian drew his sword. The blade flashed dull in the morning light.
"We go in. Slowly. Together."
Marion stared into the darkness.
In his mind raced images: Tamara, smiling at him; Tessa, laughing as she drank his blood; the villagers' fear; the sheep torn apart.
These creatures were barely stronger than dogs.
Do I really… have to kill?
He tightened his grip on his small knife. Sweat made the handle slick.
The darkness of the cave waited.
And this time, there would be no turning back.