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, Kamara's expression remained unreadable as the two faced each other. Her deep mauve eyes stared him down wolfishly, making the hairs on his skin stand up.
"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 further into the forest.
By now, the silence was deafening. With each second, it became increasingly clearer that she wasn't going to speak up. Ray swallowed. He was a fool to have followed her all the way here- not that he had much of a choice.
But this was one of the worst-case scenarios: being alone with an unknown variable.
"H-hey," Ray finally stammered out, trying to prod for an opening. "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?
"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, contorting into a deep, unrelenting scowl. It was like looking at the face of a beast, ready to maul him with even the slightest provocation. Each wrinkle, each breath, each movement, was mobilized by pure fury, and it was all directed at him.
"I-I don't- who are you? I think you've got the wrong guy!"
For a moment, she fell silent. "...Fucking idiot," she spat. "All of this is because of you. My pain, my suffering, my dwindling life...all of it is because of you. Yet, you still act afool."
She took a step toward him. And then another. Until she towered over him.
Ray felt his legs tremble with fear, and soon enough, he found himself scrambling on the ground, staring up at the stranger who wanted him dead. He grasped at the ground, labored breath rendering him speechless. There was no reasoning with someone like her.
'I have to take my chances.'
"...So this will be your grave." Her expression softened as she looked up at the sky. "I'm sorry, Ray. Sorry."
As she looked back down, Ray channeled all the will left in his fear-paralyzed body, throwing a pile of sediment into her face. Without looking back, he turned the opposite way, running as fast as he could into the forest.
'Did it work? No, I should just be focusing on running.'
"Oh? What a cheap trick."
In a flash, she kicked his body down to the floor, stepping on him to make sure he didn't run any further. Unsheathing the sword from her waist, she raised the ivory white blade above the hero. "Yeah, like I'm really sorry. I'm sick of everything you are."
"W-what did I do?" Each breath was heavy 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 kept still 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?
"You know what you did. You know everything." 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 as a beam of light flew past him, clashing with Kamara's blade. Weakly, but in relief, he turned his head 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 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. "...Why protect scum?"
"Scum? He is the Hero!" Isabell retorted with fiery passion. "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. 'Hero,' 'King,' 'Goddess,' when will you all stop being so blind?"
"He is our sav-"
"I understand," She admitted. "I will not get anywhere with you. I know you drooling idiots won't understand, so I'll just tell you this: this is merely a personal endeavor. I hate him, and that's all.
Gaining hope she was receptive, the priestess attempted to bargain with her. "Then let him go! Doing all of this for personal satisfaction? And you claim he is scum?"
But she only sighed.
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.
"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. " Your shallow insults won't reach me. You're the one throwing a tantrum, Kamara. This is truly 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."
Kamara kicked off Ray, fleeing into the forest. It did not take long for the priestess to process what she said, raining down orders for her soldiers to give chase. Almost immediately, a surge of men rushed into the forest, their heavy armor clanking noisily against Ray's ear.
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.
"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. "I'm sure you have many questions, but now is not the time to ask. Your ribs may puncture your lungs if you exert yourself." 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.
"You may speak now."
Regardless...
'Damn, that hurt like hell.' At least he only had to deal with it for a little bit. Like she guessed, he had many questions. "How did you know where I was?"
"I put a signature on you- ah, a tracker, if you're more familiar with that term. I hear you heroes do not hail from a place with magic. I can also detect when you are harmed."
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."
"Kamara..." she mumbled under her breath, just audibly enough for Ray to catch it.
"I-it's okay," He reassured her.
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 exuded a certain air of prestige unlike his fellow soldiers. Perhaps someone of a higher rank? "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 dripping wet over his eyes.
"Who was she?" He asked. Expectedly, his reflection did not respond. "Hah, why do I even bother?" He was in hell, wasn't he? Things were not going to make sense. "But maybe I'll wrap my head around it one day."
It had only been a day since the incident, making that his second near-death experience in the past week.
'Well, I guess I died the first time. Am I going to make it out?'
He could only hope so.