The Wrong Hero

Luther kicked a empty can out of his way as he trudged to school, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The morning sun felt too bright, too cheerful for his mood. 

A group of first-years scurried out of his path, whispering among themselves. Good. His reputation preceded him.

He wasn't always this way but after years of dealing with entitled rich kids trying to establish their dominance, he learned that sometimes violence was the simplest answer. The boxing club gave him an outlet, at least until they kicked him out for being "too aggressive" in sparring matches. 

Whatever, he didn't need them.

The classroom was already half-full when he arrived. As usual, nobody met his eyes. He slumped into his seat, pulled out his phone, and—

The world froze.

Literally froze. The chattering students, the falling cherry blossoms outside the window, even the dust motes in the air – all suspended in perfect stillness.

"Oh wonderful hero," a melodious voice echoed through the room. "Your world faces a terrible crisis, and you have been chosen to—"

"No," he said flatly.

A pause. Then a shimmer of golden light coalesced into the form of a beautiful woman in flowing robes. She blinked at him. "I... what?"

"I said no. I'm not interested in whatever quest or destiny you're selling. Pick someone else."

The goddess's perfect features creased in confusion. "But... but you've been chosen! The prophecy speaks of a warrior with a fierce spirit, one who—"

"Lady, I don't care about your prophecy. I've got enough problems here without adding some fantasy world's issues to the mix. Now un-freeze time and leave me alone."

"You don't understand," she pressed. "Our world is being ravaged by the Demon King's armies! Millions will die without—"

"Sounds like a you problem." He turned back to his phone, though the screen remained frozen like everything else.

The goddess's confusion shifted to anger. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "You dare dismiss a divine messenger so casually? Perhaps I should demonstrate the gravity of the situation."

Golden light flared around her hands and his chair scraped back as he dropped into a fighting stance. "Try it. I've punched plenty of people who thought they could force me to do things. Being divine won't stop me from breaking that pretty nose of yours."

To his surprise, the goddess laughed. The menacing aura vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, this is perfect! You're exactly what we need!"

"...What?"

"Don't you see? Every hero we've summoned has been so... compliant. So eager to please. They charge off to fight the Demon King with nothing but optimism and basic sword skills, and they die. We don't need another wide-eyed chosen one. We need someone who'll tell the Demon King to go fuck himself to his face!"

He slowly straightened from his fighting stance. "You're saying you want me because I'm an asshole?"

"I'm saying we want you because you won't play by the usual rules. Because you'll fight dirty if you have to, you won't let yourself be manipulated by pretty words and prophecies." She grinned. "Also, the look on the High Priest's face when I bring back someone like you will be priceless."

Despite himself, he felt a smile tugging at his lips. 'Would you look at that. She is the first goddess to say that, all those other ones just threatened me and left to choose another hero. Though, being a hero brings a sour taste in my mouth.'

"That doesn't change anything," he said, though his voice had lost some of its edge. "Being a hero means playing by someone else's rules. Been there, done that. The moment I step into your world, I'll have nobles and priests and whoever else trying to control me, just with magic instead of money."

The goddess's smile widened. "Oh, absolutely. They'll hate you. They'll call you crude and unworthy and probably try to have you replaced. The prophecy speaks of a hero who will 'unite the kingdoms under one banner' – they think that means someone diplomatic and refined."

"And you think it means something else?"

She stepped closer, and for a moment her beautiful features flickered, revealing something old and sharp beneath. "I think it means someone who'll make them work together because the alternative is dealing with you alone. Someone who'll drag them kicking and screaming into cooperation because they're too stubborn and set in their ways to do it themselves."

He studied her for a long moment. "You're not what I expected from a goddess."

"And you're not what anyone expects from a hero. That's rather the point, isn't it?" She held out her hand. "I'm not asking you to save our world out of the goodness of your heart. I'm asking you to come fuck shit up because the stuffy traditionalists who've been running things into the ground need a wake-up call. The Demon King is just a bonus."

"And if I decide to tell your nobles and priests exactly where they can stick their opinions?"

"I'll bring popcorn."

He let out a short bark of laughter. Then he shook his head, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You know what? Fine. But I'm doing this my way. No fancy titles, no ceremonial armor, none of that chosen one bullshit. And the moment someone tries to control me..."

"You'll do what you do best," she finished. "That's exactly what I'm counting on."

He reached for her outstretched hand, then paused. "I don't even know your name."

The goddess's smile turned mischievous. "I'm Ariadne, Goddess of Lost Causes and Lost Souls. Though lately, they've taken to calling me the Heretic Goddess."

"Fitting," he said, and took her hand.

The classroom dissolved in a flash of golden light. The last thing he saw was the frozen faces of his classmates, who would never know that their feared delinquent had been chosen as a hero – not because of his hidden noble heart, but because sometimes the world doesn't need a hero at all.

Sometimes it needs a wake-up call.