Light interspersed between the two of us, casting the roof in a soft glow of a rainbow of colors. The rough straw that composed the surface beneath me scratched my skin, and the murmurs of the crowd below us intermittently faded before the cacophony of the fireworks. I gazed into the distance, desperately ignoring the prickling stare of the man next to me. 

Myriad thoughts swam in my brain. What was that atmosphere between us? Why was Gale being so… kind to me? No, he was always kind. Had I just never been receptive? He was the man I trusted most. My rock. My dearest friend. I didn’t think he was more than that, didn’t think he felt that way either, but what was that just now? Did Gale like me?

If Gale felt that way about me, what would I do? Reject him, I was sure. I was a guy, I had always felt things for women, had girlfriends in the past. I’d shared beds with Gale, showered in locker rooms with Gale, and never once had I looked at him the way I had tonight. Was my new body changing the way I felt? Changing the way I thought? A chill ran down my spine. Had the comfort I’d felt in Gale’s embrace been more than familial love? Was it fake, a devilish concoction of the system? 

Impossible. My eyes traitorously looked towards him. Gale sat with one leg stretched out, the other raised, his arm resting on his knee just past the elbow. His hair blew with the night wind, and his forlorn face was painted with the vibrant hues of the fireworks, ever-changing. I unconsciously bit my lip. Damn, this guy was unreasonably good looking. 

His eyes, which had been focused on me, naturally noticed my gaze. His lip curled up on one side into a smile. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted. 

The crowd below, which had been a joyful murmur of laughter and conversation, suddenly went quiet. It transformed into an unruly uproar of people shouting. What was going on? I glanced west. The distant horizon, which before was lit only by the soft glow of the moon, had been transformed into a crimson, oscillating hue, like a heated stone fresh off a campfire. The glow emitted multiple stark, pitch-black plumes of smoke. A fire? 

Confusion swept over my brain. Was there a forest fire or something? Firework gone wrong? A flash of text interrupted my thoughts. 

[Quest Received: A Hero’s Journey.

The town Leyland is under siege by one of the Four Demon Generals. Its people are at risk, facing annihilation.  Pursue the Demon General, destroy them, and bring peace back to Leyland.

Reward: 

1000 Hero Points

Beginner Skills Upgrade]

My mouth fell open. 

“Gale, we need to leave now.” 

My feet tore through the dirt beneath, sending it scattering as I ran. My Heroine’s outfit caught on the occasional twig, but thankfully the material was sturdy enough to avoid tearing. My breaths came in heavy, shuddering gasps, and before long, I had to pause. I leaned over, pressing my hands to my legs, trying to catch my breath. Gale stopped next to me, sweating but breathing even breaths. He waited for me to recover.

“Should we have done more than just leave a letter?” Gale asked. 

I rightened my posture and wiped the sweat from my brow. 

“And what? Tell them a magic voice in my head warned me? They might stop us from leaving in the first place. Let’s keep going, we don’t have time to waste.”

Gale nodded, and our feet met the dirt once more. 

The shadows stretched as the night wore on. The path, although well-traveled, still bore the treacherous marks of wilderness. Animals scurried away from the sounds of our running. My will wore thin as we traveled. It was by no means a short distance; the journey from Shortleaf to Leyland was an hour by horse gallop, yet our feet were the only transportation to carry us. Our travel was equal parts staving off sleep as exhaustion. 

We arrived in view of the city as daybreak struck. My eyes widened. The city was a construction of stone buildings, sturdy walls and the makings of a castle. It didn’t appear to be finished with construction at first sight, until I realized the outermost wall was deformed not from lack of work, but melted from some unknown force. The breach was haphazardly filled with a construction of hastily built wooden barricades. I could see the distant sight of people patrolling the top of it. 

The city gates were out of our line of sight, so we circled the town. The ravages of the night’s attack were obvious; cracks, dents and that same melting force were interspersed through the defenses, presumably pressing the offensive until they found an exploitable structural weakness. There were no signs of the offending army. Had they sent a night raid, pulling back at daybreak? 

The city gates were a mess. They were cracked and deformed, like a battering ram had met its destined partner. Guards stood at the gate, heavily armored with gleaming plate and armed with spears, swords, and what looked like a crossbow. They were holding back a crowd of people from leaving, and as we approached I could hear the clamoring yells of the citizenry. 

“You can’t keep us here! I won’t stay to die!” One man shouted. 

He pushed roughly against the guard, his dirtied, soot-covered hands leaving streaks on the guard’s clean armor. His face was ragged, desperate, and his clothing bore the marks of the nights intensity. He held the hand of a stocky woman who was holding a child in her arms, a pale and injured looking thing. The desperate, mad look in her eyes flared as she screamed, “My child is dying! Where are the healers? Where are the doctors? Your damn lord closed them behind his doors, leaving us to suffer! I won’t stand it!”

She pushed her weight shoulder first into the guard, trying to budge him from his post. 

The guard grabbed her and roughly pushed her back into the crowd. His face, though not cruel, was hardened with the knowledge of the future that awaited them should they leave. 

“You’ll walk straight into the demons! Stay here and your child has a chance to live, leave and you’ll be torn to shreds, stripped to bones as supper!”

I gave a brief glance to Gale and approached. “I can heal your child!”

The guards, who had been facing the other way, were startled into drawing their swords as they turned around. Those armed with crossbows raised them immediately, panic evident on their faces. I raised my hands in deference. 

“We’re from Shortleaf! I’m a healer!” I called. 

The guard who had been speaking motioned for his compatriot to hold the crowd before stepping towards me. His sword remained drawn, his face serious. He held the tip of the blade to my throat, watching my reaction with merciless eyes. 

He was young, dark hair disheveled with sweat and soot, with thin facial hair that hadn’t been trimmed for some time. His blue eyes drilled into mine, questioning. 

“Shortleaf?” 

I nodded. “We ran here overnight, fast as we were able. I’m a healer.” 

His gaze brushed over my darkened eyes, messy hair and dirt-covered clothing. He lowered his sword slightly, before gesturing behind him towards the child. “Prove it.”

The woman’s face froze with fear and apprehension before the concern for her child outweighed it, and she stepped forwards, holding her pallid child’s form towards me. It was a young boy, at most three, with a severe gash across his forehead, which had been wrapped and treated clumsily. The blood from the wound still seeped into the bandages, wetting the cloth. 

My face paled. I swallowed before stretching my arm out. All the while, the looks of every guard, as well as their weapons, were focused on me. I activated my magic, and a vibrant golden light flashed, covering the child’s body. Immediately, his complexion returned to normal, and the seeping blood halted. The woman, hands shaking, gently unwrapped the bandage surrounding his head. While the blood was still there, his once-injured forehead was now completely healed, like the wound had never occurred. 

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“A saintess!” She cried. She pulled her child to her chest, sobbing, and looked at me in reverence. The crowd behind her called for me, “Saintess! Please, my husband!” “My child!” “Saintess, please help us!”

The guard looked at me with a curious glance, and sheathed his sword. He gestured towards a random guard, saying, “Follow her. Take her to the wounded.” 

The guard pushed through the crowd, leading us further into the city. The people followed behind us, calling out to me, drawing the attention of those in the city. Those who tried to cling to me were barely held off by Gale’s protective form. 

The city was in shambles. Large rocks laid in ruined buildings. Trebuchets?  From the damage of the upper buildings and those towards the breach, it seemed as if the demon army had attacked and sacked as much as they could before the opposing defense and daybreak pushed them out of the city. I was surprised that with a night raid, the damage was so concentrated. I didn’t see blood in the direction towards the breach, no corpses. Had they managed to evacuate that area before the brunt of the attack? 

Those who didn’t follow us sat on the street in front of ruined houses, staring blankly into space. The shock of the nights events, as well as the lack of sleep kept them from lucidity. I saw families hugging, mothers comforting their children. There were those who had taken the duty of passing out relief supplies, feeding and providing water for those affected. 

By the time we had arrived to the gathering of those severely injured in the attack, a large crowd followed at my heels, many of which bore only slight injuries. There were people being tended to by family, who looked up at my arrival in bewilderment. I pressed forward and approached the most injured person in view. It was a man dressed in a ruined guard’s tunic, severely cut all over, lacking fingers on his right hand. I raised a hand, enveloping him in golden hues. The healing magic stitched together his wounds, and his breathing eased. The missing fingers on his hand sealed over, but didn’t grow back. 

A wave of exhaustion rolled over me, and I barely stood with the support of Gale’s shoulder. I pushed through, and approached the next person. The next few hours were spent healing, drinking mana potions provided by Gale, though I don’t know where he found them, and bearing the weight of the people’s hopes. 

They surrounded me as if I were a goddess, and when I had finished treating those who were on death’s door, rushed towards me for their minor ailments. It was only with strict administration from Gale and the poor guard that we had dragged along that we managed to quell the crowd’s anxiety. My tired eye glossed over the countless popups of hero points. 

My eyelids felt like lead, my arms cement. I struggled to sit upright on a bench, rasping breaths overtaking me. I had one hand on Gale’s shoulder, pushing with all my strength to stay awake. The mana potions had helped, but the act of healing so many people in a row left me ravaged by sweat and sleep. My strength finally failed me, and I fell to the side, falling into Gale’s chest. He gently patted my head. 

“Sleep,” He murmured. 

My heart disobeyed, but my body listened. My eyes slid shut, and my consciousness faded.