The driver unlocked the door, and the breeze of the forest rushed in. But Ray's anxiety did not lower with it. His legs trembled forbodingly as he reluctantly followed Kamara outside. Hundreds of questions ran through his mind, but he knew damn well he wasn't going to recieve an answer to any of them.
But Kamara was his instructor. She was supposed to teach him the ways of fighting, and maybe this was simply the most efficient way to teach. Maybe it was all just a simple misunderstanding. Yeah, she was going to look after him, watch over him as she promised. It was just a case of tough love, or so he'd like to leave thinking.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem like he could leave anytime soon. Kamara's expression remained unreadable as the two faced each other, her deep mauve eyes staring into his.
"I'll be back," the driver declared, tipping his coach hat cordially. "I'll leave you two to it!" Getting back on horseback, he giddied up, moving the carriage back outside the forest before it was out of sight.
Kamara continued to uphold the awkwardness by keeping silent. It seemed like he would have to make the first move.
"H-hey," Ray stammered. "So..."
"Ray, I hate you."
"Huh?"
Kamara's words cut through him like a knife. At first, he couldn't quite register it. It was absurd, after all! But her deadpan stare brought him back to the reality of the situation.
What was she talking about? Why did she hate him? In the end, those questions were rendered meaningless by the most primordial fear.
Was...
Was he going to die? Here? Already?
"You don't remember, don't you? You've always said that to me, playing dumb." Her words continued pouring out like venom as her stoic expression cracked, turning into a deep, unrelenting scowl. She was not being facetious; she just couldn't hide it anymore.
"...So this will be your grave." Her expression softened for a moment as she looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Ray." In a flash, she kicked his body down to the floor, stepping on him to make sure he didn't run. Unsheathing the sword from her waist, she raised the ivory white blade above the hero. "I'm sick of everything you are."
"W-what did I do?" Each breath was heavy and labored as he felt something in his torso crack painfully for the second time now, the scent of worn leather boots filling his nostrils. However, he couldn't scream. His body was paralyzed by fear and the weight of her strength. His voice quavered with each word, eyes wide. Despair. And he could only ask, "W-why?"
Why?
Who was she?
Why did she do this to him?
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand. You never have, not even once." Her tone grew low, desperate, as if waiting for an answer.
"D-did I..know you...?" He choked out.
"..."
The metal came down, sunlight reflecting beautifully off its surface.
'Ah.'
Ray closed his eyes, not to brace for impact, but to brace for death. It was a familiar feeling, dying at the hands of the cruelly cold. This was it. She was right- this was to be his grave.
"STOP!" A young voice hollered from his side. He turned his head weakly toward the source of the voice. In the near distance was a young girl dressed in priestly robes, alongside dozens of soldiers standing right behind her. The long staff she held completely dwarfed her as she raised it and pointed it toward the instructor.
"If you dare harm the hero, the kingdom will personally execute you!"
The woman froze and turned to look at the priestess, eyes empty. "...He is scum."
"He is the Hero!" Isabell retorted with fiery passion.
Her expression was fierce, almost like a beast, but different at the same time. It was more nurturing, less like a predator, and more like an animal fending for their own kind. "Do not sully his name!"
But Kamara only scoffed in response. "Hah..." She lowered her blade, sucking in an exhausted breath, maintaining unrelenting eye contact. "You people are truly...simpletons. You will believe under the sun as long as they are labelled to your liking."
"But is our sav-"
"I understand," She admitted.
Gaining hope she was receptive, the priestess attempted to bargain with her. "Then let him go!"
But she only sighed. "But you people don't understand anything. I know you drooling idiots won't, so I'll just tell you this: this is merely a personal endeavor. I hate him, and that's all."
She pointed her blade back at her, white ivory catching the rays slipping through the trees. The priestess flinched, preparing for the worst, tension palpable.
"And you." Kamara said in a low tone, addressing the priestess. "You speak like you know everything. What a privilege that is. Yes, you've always been just a privileged little brat."
A brat. The priestess clenched her teeth. "A brat? You're the one throwing a tantrum. Kamara, what's wrong with you? This is unbefitting of someone of your rank! Have you gone mad? Has a demon possessed you?"
"...So that's what you think of me, no, of the people around you." She laughed cynically. "You've merely confirmed what I've always thought of this shithole."
And with that, Kamara kicked off Ray, fleeing into the forest. It did not take long for the priestess to process what she said.
"A-After her!" Isabell ordered. The soldiers gave chase as they too entered the thick of the forest. Meanwhile, the priestess rushed to the hero's side, shocked at his condition. She crouched and palpated his body, searching for wounds and internal damage, before finally arriving at an area in his torso that was just a little too tender. Ray winced in pain as he turned to witness the sequence of events. It was a chaotic scene, soldiers surging toward Kamara's direction in fury, but more importantly, with absolute loyalty.
"Sorry," she apologized. "It will hurt a little." She dropped her staff, eliciting a slight metal clink against the dirt. Then, raising both of her hands, she began to chant. A soft, green glow began to emanate from her palms.
Ray groaned as his ribsrelocated and mended themselves, skin tenting around them grotesquely. Although it wasn't nearly as painful as it looked, he couldn't help but squirm at the sight in addition to the soft crunching of bone against bone. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining- even if it was quite ugly.
"Please, don't move."
"T-thank you." It hurt to talk, but he felt he needed to mention it.
"It's my pleasure, hero, but please don't move," she reminded him.
Eventually, his body returned to normal. Almost. His body was sore, but he didn't know whether that was a side effect of the healing or simply the remnants of the ordeal.
Regardless...
'Damn, that hurt like hell!'
From the forest emerged a sleek white carriage. "We will take you back to your estate for some rest," she said, apologizing further, "I'm sorry, hero. I couldn't be there for you earlier. I should've known before this happened."
"I-it's okay."
Her tone remained remorseful as she muttered under her breath. "I'm sorry..." She turned to the soldiers who stayed behind, gesturing them over. "Please bring him into the carriage."
"Yes, Priestess Isabel."
One soldier lifted his head, while two others supported his back and lifted his feet respectively. Carefully, they led him into the carriage and laid him on the seat.
'Wow, it's just like an ambulance,' Ray thought. Thankfully, the carriage this time was much larger, allowing Ray's body to be sprawled on a separate seat while still having enough room for the soldiers--- add the priestess after she climbed in to accompany the hero.
Also, this time, the lock was on the inside. Thankfully.
But before she closed the door, she called over another soldier. Ray wasn't able to get a good look at him lying down on the seat, but he could tell that a certain prestige was exuded that was different from that of other soldiers. "Come back at your own discretion," she said with a bitter smile.
And with that, she closed the carriage door, and the driver started. Thank god.
Ray felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him, but the bumpy path beneath wasn't the best sleep aid.
'They're all so worried.' He debated whether to break the silence or not. After all, it was way too depressing. It wasn't like he died. Well, he was close to dying, but everything worked out in the end.
In the end, he chose not to. It hurt too much, anyway.
'I'm glad I'm safe.'
That was all that mattered.
-------------------------------------
Ray awoke, sunbeams streaming in from the estate window. Weakly, he rolled out of bed and lazily stretched.
"So it wasn't a dream."
Entering the bathroom, he turned the switch on the floating blue ball and splashed the generated water on his face. He figured out how to use it during his short stay here the previous day. A skinny man stared back at him from the mirror, messy hair hanging sopping wet over his eyes.
Ray laughed.
"What are you lookin' at, loser?"
Expectedly, the reflection didn't respond.
"You don't know how to be a hero."
He smiled and returned to his bed.