Eleven heroes fought bravely. The twelfth simply watched.

  The dragon roared and struggled against the sheer might of the hero’s party. With two of its four wings severed, it was bound to the earth, never to fly again. Crystalline flames erupted from its maw, destroying everything in its path. The heroes that fought it ran around like fireflies swarming a flame, wearing the beast down as they evaded its many attacks. One flew through the air like a falcon, another erected magical shields to block a breath attack, and another still simply evaded with enhanced speed. One mage retaliated with a similar blast of energy, canceling it out, and another hero vanished into thin air just as the dragon’s claw was about to tear him to pieces. The dragon, mighty as it was, could not touch the heroes—they who were Blessed with magic.

  This was a battle that would be sung in songs from here on out. Mirena, the Lady of the Waves, raised her hands, and translucent blue patterns surrounded the dragon, trapping it within a dome. Yupanai, the one they called All-Oblivions, called forth a swarm of lightning to surround the beast. Left Rivers, the Fleet Stealer, clapped his hands, and the dragon’s own breath began to turn on itself, charring its own scales.

  A figure blinked into existence above the dragon, blade in hand. He dropped down towards the beast’s head, and with a single swing, the dragon’s horn was severed, falling to the ground and shattering the earth with its immense weight. Thus did the beast know the might of the hero, Olivier Verlaine. The battle raged on as eleven members of the hero’s party wore the dragon down, bit by bit, with their overwhelming power.

  And off to the side, Lilieth Lasvenn watched.

  Not because she was analyzing the battle. Not because she was putting together a plan. Not because she was supporting the other members with her spells.

  She stood and watched because there was nothing she could do. There was nothing she could contribute to the battle whatsoever, except witness it.

  By definition, she, too, was a hero.

  In name.

  She watched the fight with attentive eyes because, if nothing else, she could at least preserve it all in memory.

  The battle ended with Verlaine separating the beast’s head from its neck, and calm once more returned to the mountains. He raised his blade above himself—a signal of victory. Everyone else raised their fists up high in answer. Cheers roared as the others celebrated their hard-won battle.

  Lilieth raised her own fist up nervously, halfway above her head, before slowly putting it back down.

  Once more, the hero’s party carved itself into history.

  That night, the streets of Zusa were ablaze with merriment, and cinders of joy danced with the wind. All eighteen districts of the capital were drunk on celebration. The dragon that had terrorized the nation for years was finally no more. Warm lights decorated every corner of the city, and every street, every building sang in praise of the hero. At the center of the city was Verlaine accompanied by his party. He was level 77, which placed him in the Third tier. At that point, one was much closer to being a demigod than a man.

  And yet, Verlaine, along with the rest of the party, joined the people in celebration. The heroes danced and sang and drank to the tunes and praises made in their honor. It put the people at ease, reminding them that despite his overwhelming power, Verlaine wasn’t a god—just another person like them.

  As for Lilieth Lasvenn, well, she wasn’t there with them.

  Far away from the center of the festivities, Lilieth walked down a street, a mug in her hands. Nobody really paid much attention to her. Nobody really seemed to even notice her. Behind her, the cheers of Zusa square began to become distant, replaced by the comfortable bustle of a regular festival street.

  She bumped into someone and almost spilled her drink.

  “Heeey, urgh, watchit,” the man said with a drunken slur.

  She recognized him. She had perused through the Zusa Guild branch’s adventurer list, and he was one of the people registered there. Markosh was his name; a Martialmage, level 12. For someone Blessed with magic, he didn’t look the part: disheveled hair, heavy bags under his eyes, clothes stained with sauce and wine. Had she not seen his face before, she’d have pegged him for a penniless drunkard.

  Lilieth bowed her head deeply. “My apologies, Lord Markosh.”

  Markosh glared. “How’d y’know my name? I don’t remember meetin’ a skinny brat like yous.”

  “We haven’t met,” she said. “But we’re both members of the Guild.”

  “Tch. Don’t bloody know ya. Piss off.”

  Markosh walked on, clearly in a less than stellar mood. Of course, he didn’t recognize her. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Lilieth sighed and continued on her way. It wasn’t like she had any accolades or a legend to build, and there wasn’t really anything she could do about it. She wasn’t leveling up fast enough; that’s all.

  The young mage found a quiet place, away from all the festivities: a small tree on a hill near the city's outskirts. It overlooked Zusa, and from here, she could see the magnificence of Krysanth’s capital, the largest of the megalopoleis. Seven giant towers stood in the middle of the city, surrounding the palace, and at their tops were massive Greatbells, bigger than houses each. The city was glowing. Practically every street she could see was lit, and songs could be heard from one edge of the city to the other.

  She sat down on the ground and leaned against a tree, breathing in the cold air and pondering about how far she’d come.

  Sure, she wasn’t exactly worthy of being called a hero, but at one point, she was just an apprentice priestess living in a humble village—far from anything important. Compared to that, her life nowadays was much more exciting.

  A figure was approaching, flying through the sky gracefully. Her messy long twin-tails trailed behind her, fluttering in the air as she landed in front of Lilieth. The dark-skinned half-elf waved at her with a smile.

  “Lili, what are you doing so far from the festivities? You should be enjoying yourself more!”

  Lilieth smiled back. “Believe it or not, Lady Talgerda, I actually am enjoying myself quite a bit. I like the quiet.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Talgerda raised an eyebrow. “Is that alcohol? You’re fifteen. You shouldn’t be drinking that.”

  Lilieth looked down at her mug—already half empty. “It’s called ‘kalaman orange’ apparently. It’s just juice. It does have a strange taste though.”

  “Ah, those. Those’re popular where I’m from.”

  Talgerda casually sat down beside Lilieth, leaning against the tree next to her. She was another member of Verlaine’s party—level 50, which was the highest level in the Second tier. She was only one level away from breaking into the Third. In short, she was among the most powerful in his party.

  “How did you find me?” Lilieth asked.

  “Oh, I asked Sevens. Her Divination magic is so good that it didn’t even take her a single breath to locate you.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to find her at all. Lady Sevens usually hides away somewhere when there are festivities.”

  “I know, right? Why do you think I’ve been following her around ever since we made it back?”

  “From my point of view, all you were doing was harassing her.”

  Talgerda shrugged. “Guilty as charged. I just wanted to see if it was actually possible to piss her off.”

  Lilieth chuckled. “And how did it go?”

  The half-elf shrugged again. “Didn’t even look annoyed, so I got bored and looked for you instead. Seriously, I don’t think anything can get under her skin.”

  Lilieth lowered her head. “Why would you look for me? I don’t believe I’m any more interesting than Lady Sevens.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. I’ve met some truly powerful people who were less interesting than watching paint dry.”

  Lilieth shuffled uncomfortably, her fingers nervously playing with the mug.

  Talgerda sighed. “You’re thinking about that again, aren’t you?”

  Lilieth had no reply.

  “You don’t have to be discouraged just because you’re the only First tier on the team.”

  Lilieth shook her head. “Lord Verlaine accepted me into his party because he saw potential in me.”

  “And you’re doing fine.”

  “But—”

  “You’re doing fine. Has Olivier ever gotten mad at you for being only level 6? Has he ever once complained?”

  Lilieth paused. “He hasn’t,” she replied. Although, she’s never seen Olivier Verlaine get mad at anything. He was always so understanding and gentle.

  “See?” The half-elf ruffled up the young mage’s hair, nearly causing her to spill her drink. “I know Mira and the others have been strict on you, but don’t let it get you down, alright?”

  “Mm,” Lilieth nodded.

  A comfortable silence descended upon them. Lilieth turned her gaze upwards towards the moons hanging in the sky. They surrounded the world in a ring, twelve of them, each one glowing with its own unique color, dyeing the night sky with a beautiful gradient. She looked up, seeing the ninth moon near the apex of the sky, dominating the night with its green glow.

  “Your birthday’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Talgerda asked.

  “You remembered.” Lilieth smiled. She had mentioned her birthday to Talgerda three weeks ago in passing.

  The half-elf winked. “My memory isn’t as good as yours, but I can remember at least that much. So, how should we celebrate it? We could head to Verlaine’s manor in Salcaeli. Or maybe the beach? Farlan has some amazing beaches.”

  The two of them spent the night talking about anything that came to mind, a welcome reprieve from the depressive thoughts that plagued Lilieth.

  “Well, gotta go back now,” Talgerda said as she stood up. “Want me to carry you back as well?”

  “I’m good. I’ll stay here for a bit.”

  “Alright then.” Talgerda stretched her arms and legs. And then, she chanted the spell’s name: “[Bedivere].”

  All of a sudden, the half-elf began levitating through the air. There was no gust of wind carrying her. It simply looked as if she was floating up through waters that couldn’t be seen.

  “See you later, Lili!” she waved as she soared through the sky, towards the city proper. Lilieth waved back weakly.

  Once more, she was alone. But she didn’t hold it against Talgerda.

  Unlike Lilieth, whom most people ignored, Talgerda was quite well-known, so people would notice if she was gone for too long. She was a hero with a title, after all—Peregrine, they called her. Even among Skymages, Talgerda was known for her speed in the air.

  Everyone in Verlaine’s party had a title. Everyone except Lilieth, who had no tales sung about her. No legend to build.

  Like everyone else in Verlaine’s party, Lilieth was a Blessed, someone who was given magic by the twelve Greater Gods. She, in particular, was Blessed with Sculpt magic, which allowed her to mold the earth into her liking.

  That said, as a Sculptmage, Lilieth was unexemplary. Her spells were far too weak to be of any use, in battle or otherwise.

  The ninth moon, Green Reina, was almost at its apex height in the night sky. Zusa was no closer to sleeping though. The festivities would likely continue into the dawn. She raised a hand to the green moon in prayer. Even if things didn’t make sense yet, someday, they would. Her patron god, Lady Eulalie, had a plan for her, surely. And so long as she kept going—so long as her faith remained strong—things would turn out alright in the end.

  Streaks of light flew upwards into the air from the center of the city. That’s right. They mentioned that they’d light fireworks at midnight. It was already that late.

  Perhaps it was time for her to sleep. Lilieth usually retired to bed early, so she wasn’t used to staying up this late. She stood, dusted off her backside, and began walking back to the—

  “—Khg?!”

  In that instant, a piercing pain surged through her head. She fell to her knees, her drink spilling all over the grass. It felt like a hundred knives were slowly being drilled into her mind, the blades scraping against each other. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts—her own screams. She clutched her head with her hands, desperately trying to reach in and scratch the pain away. But there was nothing she could do except writhe on the ground.

  “———ing————xte———”

  There was a faint voice—a voice that almost seemed composed of the garbled noises, as if dozens of voices were speaking in unison, with a moment of clarity only appearing in the spaces where the sounds aligned. Lilieth mustered every ounce of mental strength she had to listen.

  “——ou’re l———alr———ed”

  The voice was clearer. A woman’s voice.

  “I don’t k————lovely na———”

  “——little time———danger—————lied to——”

  “————Your Blessings———save our——”

  “—must reach———mories, befo————Feralter——”

  “———the demon lord, is——I won’t——help.”

  The noise became increasingly overpowering the longer it went on. Lilieth’s sense of time was being distorted. She had no idea how much time had passed. Had it been a few seconds? A few minutes? A few hours? Nothing was clear. There was only agony.

  “——I——ind twelve———”

  “—bring them————swords——”

  “———face against the demon king. I——”

  “—————————they will help guide yo———”

  Lilieth clawed at her skin, blood dripping onto the blades of grass below her. And yet, the pain didn’t even register. She couldn’t feel anything. In that moment, nothing existed except the noise. Her body didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. All that existed was chaos.

  When will it end?

  “——in doing this———betra———”

  “———I condemn——to death. All———”

  “——long enough.”

  “—past——fade awa——”

  When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When will it end?

  “—I leave the future to you.”

  The wind continued to blow. The skies above Zusa lit up as the first fireworks went off, and songs danced along in the air, the wind carrying them as far as it could take them.

  Lilieth gasped, breathing like she’d been starved of oxygen for months. Blood stained her fingers and smeared across the ground as she shuffled onto her knees. The pain was gone. All the intense agony disappeared as quickly as it showed up, like it was nothing more than a fleeting dream.

  But if there was anything Lilieth could count on, it was her memory. And she remembered that noise. Every single word she heard, she remembered perfectly.

  “What on earth was—”

  Then, she saw something. An image showed up in her mind:

  A wide, spacious cavern. Moss covered the walls, and water surrounded a platform in the middle of the hollow. On that platform, twelve swords were impaled in the ground, arranged in a circle.

  The vision lasted for only a second, but she remembered every single detail. That place ... she’d never been to that place before. She’d never seen those swords before. It was a place completely unknown to her.

  Yet for some reason, she knew exactly where to find it. And it wasn’t that far.