The traveling swordsman

The fire crackled softly as the woman finished her tale, letting the final words drift into the night air. The children sat in silence, their wide eyes reflecting the flickering flames. Some hugged their knees, others fidgeted with the edges of their blankets, unsure whether to be afraid or amazed.

A young girl, no older than seven, hesitated before speaking. "Do you think the Hero will ever come back?" she asked, her voice small and hopeful.

The storyteller leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the vast night sky. "I don't know," she admitted, her tone doubtful but firm. "The Hero vanished many years ago… and no one has seen him since."

She glanced at the children, a small smirk playing at her lips. "But legends aren't just stories. Sometimes, they're warnings. And sometimes… they're promises."

The fire crackled again, filling the brief silence between them. The young girl hugged her knees, her gaze fixed on the flames. "I hope he does," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because if he doesn't… who will stop the darkness?"

The storyteller watched her for a moment before offering a small, reassuring smile. "Maybe someone new will rise," she said. "Maybe someone out there is meant to take up the fight."

The young girl looked up, searching the storyteller's face for an answer she wasn't sure existed. The wind rustled through the ruins around them, carrying the echoes of a forgotten past… and perhaps, the promise of something yet to come.

Ten Years Later

The little girl who once sat by the fire, wide-eyed and full of questions, had grown into a young woman. Her name was Stella, and she no longer had time for fairy tales.

She weaved through the crowded restaurant with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before, balancing a tray of steaming plates while dodging stray elbows and impatient customers. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, but she barely noticed. Her mind was too busy keeping track of orders, sidestepping chaos, and bracing for whatever nonsense her boss would throw at her next.

"Stella! Table five's waiting!" came the familiar bark from the kitchen.

"I'm going, I'm going!" she shot back, rolling her eyes. She picked up her pace, flashing a quick, almost sarcastic smile at a customer who tried to wave her down. "One second, sir—unless you've learned to eat air, in which case, congratulations."

It had been years since she last asked if the Hero would ever return. Back then, she had believed in legends—the idea that someone would rise to save the world. Now, she knew better. The world didn't wait for heroes. It just kept moving. And so did she.

The bell above the door jingled. A gust of cold air swept into the restaurant as a cloaked figure stepped inside.

Stella barely glanced up. New customers came and went all the time. But something about this one made her pause. He moved with an odd hesitation, as if the world itself felt unfamiliar beneath his feet.

Still, she didn't have time to dwell on it.

The figure took a seat at an empty table near the corner, and Stella sighed, grabbing a notepad as she made her way over.

"Welcome," she said in her usual tired but casual tone. "What'll you be having?"

The figure lifted his head slightly, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a pale jawline beneath the hood.

"Ramen," he said simply.

Stella blinked before scoffing. "Yeah, not happening. We haven't sold ramen in five years."

The cloaked figure stiffened. "What? Five years?" he repeated, his voice louder than it needed to be. Heads turned. A few customers paused mid-bite to glance in his direction.

Stella raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Five years," she said slowly, folding her arms. "Now, do you actually want to eat something, or are you just here to be dramatic?"

The figure went still for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.

"My apologies," he muttered. "I'll take… bread."

"Bread," Stella echoed. "Got it." She jotted it down, shaking her head as she walked away. Weird guy, she mumbled under her breath.

After a while, Stella returned with a small plate and set it down in front of the cloaked figure. "Here's your bread," she said, her tone still carrying a hint of amusement from their earlier exchange.

The figure stared at the simple meal for a moment, then picked up a piece and took a slow bite. There was a quiet sort of defeat in the way he ate, like someone who had expected something more—only to realize the world had moved on without him.

Stella leaned against the table next to him, arms crossed. "You look like a guy who just lost a bet," she remarked.

The figure didn't respond. He simply finished his meal in silence, each bite slow and deliberate. Once the plate was empty, he reached into his cloak, pulled out a few coins, and placed them on the table.

"Thank you," he said, his voice softer this time.

Stella took the money and gave a slight nod. "No problem."

Without another word, the cloaked figure stood and made his way toward the door. The bell jingled again as he stepped out into the night, vanishing into the cold.

Stella watched him go, a strange feeling settling in her chest. Something about him was... off. As she picked up the coins he had left behind, she frowned, turning one over between her fingers. Gold? No one used gold coins anymore.

She scoffed to herself, slipping them into her pocket. Who still pays with gold?

She shook her head and pushed the thought aside. Customers were waiting, and she had tables to clean. Whoever that guy was, it wasn't her problem. With that, she grabbed her notepad and got back to work.

A few moments later, Stella was wiping down a table when the kitchen door swung open with a loud thud. The chef, a burly man with a grease-stained apron and an ever-present scowl, leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"We're out of ingredients," he grumbled. "Flour, vegetables, meat, basically everything. You need to run to the market and restock."

Stella groaned, tossing the rag onto the table. "Seriously? Again? Didn't we just get a shipment yesterday?"

The chef grunted. "And we sold through it. People gotta eat, you know."

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She was tired, and a supply run wasn't exactly what she wanted to do after a long shift. But arguing was pointless.

"Fine, fine. I'll go."

Grabbing her coat and the restaurant's smart tablet from the counter, she made her way toward the door. The night air greeted her with a crisp chill, and as she stepped outside, she couldn't shake the nagging thought still lingering in the back of her mind.

Who still pays with gold coins?

Stella moved through the market quickly, buying everything on the list before starting her walk back. She was exhausted and ready to be done for the night, until she turned a corner and stopped cold.

A group of delinquents marched through the village. One of them wielded an Arc-hammer marked with a sigil she recognized, the Neo Arcane Dominion.

They shoved frightened villagers, demanding money with cruel smirks. "Hand it over," one sneered at a trembling merchant. "Unless you want trouble."

Stella's stomach twisted. She knows who they are, terrorists who took what they wanted under the guise of power. And now they were here.

Her breath caught. Not my fight. She quickly slipped into a nearby alley, pressing herself against the wall. If she stayed quiet, maybe they wouldn't notice her.

But she had a bad feeling it wouldn't be that easy.

Stella's blood boiled as she watched the thugs torment the villagers. She wanted to stay hidden, but every cruel laugh and every shove made it harder to ignore.

Then, a little girl stepped forward. "Stop it!" she shouted, her tiny fists clenched.

The thugs laughed. "Look at this. A brat thinks she can boss us around."

One of them raised his fist. "Maybe we should teach her a lesson."

Stella moved before she could think. Bolting from her hiding spot, she grabbed a handful of salt from her bag and flung it straight into the thug's eyes.

The thug screamed, stumbling back. "AGH! WHAT THE HELL?!"

Stella smirked, shaking the remaining salt from her fingers. "Didn't anyone teach you not to hit kids?"

As the thug howled in pain, the villagers wasted no time. They turned and ran.

Footsteps pounded against the dirt roads as people scattered, vanishing into their homes or the nearest alleyways. Within moments, the street was nearly empty, leaving only Stella, the thugs, and the little girl.

Stella's smirk faded slightly as she realized just how alone she was. Well… this might have been a bad idea.

As the villagers fled in panic, one figure moved against the tide, The cloaked figure from earlier.

He strolled toward the scene, unfazed by the chaos, lazily playing a slow, haunting melody on a harmonica. The eerie tune cut through the tension like a knife, but the thugs were too focused on Stella to pay him any mind.

Meanwhile, Stella took a steady breath, keeping her stance firm as the remaining thugs turned their furious glares toward her.

No turning back now.

The moment the thug stopped screaming, his allies sprang into action.

Stella barely had time to react.

Their leader lunged at her, swinging an Arc-Hammer. She ducked just in time, feeling the air shift as the massive weapon barely missed her head.

Another thug came from the side, aiming a punch at her ribs. She twisted away, but not fast enough—pain jolted through her side as the hit connected, knocking her backward.

She gritted her teeth. Damn it. This was stupid.

The thugs closed in, their expressions furious. She had no weapon, no backup—just a bag of groceries and her wits.

But if they thought she'd go down easy, they had another thing coming.

The thugs surrounded Stella, cutting off any chance of escape. One of them stepped forward, hefting a massive Arc-Hammer, its head crackling with unstable Arcana energy.

He smirked, raising it high.

"Time to teach you a lesson, girl."

Stella braced herself.

Then—

A flash of motion.

CLANG!

A red-and-blue Arc-blade met the hammer mid-swing. The sheer force of the clash sent a shockwave through the air.

The thug wielding the Arc-Hammer was knocked backward, stumbling as he barely kept his balance.

The other thugs recoiled in shock. One of them pointed at the blade, his face going pale.

"Wait… that sword… that's Cosmos! The Sword of the Eclipse!"

Silence fell over the street.

Even Stella felt her breath hitch. Cosmos? But that was just a legend… right?

The cloaked figure said nothing.

Instead, he reached up and pulled off his cloak—revealing a boy who looked no older than seventeen.

His messy black hair caught the dim light, but what stood out the most were his white eyes—cold, unreadable,sharp, and unreadeble.

He rested cosmos on his shoulder, flashing a confident smirk.

The name's Hugo, I'm just a traveling swordsman