If you knew, would you forgive me?

"- - - - - - - - - - - -"

Seemingly, these familiar sounds struck Harriet's ears once again. The sounds were quite similar to two rocks hitting each other. His eyes wandered, once again trapped in a void within his dream. His feet sank into the black goo emitted from a figure afar.

This familiar feeling unsettled Harriet.

He swallowed before breathing in. Harriet began to walk toward the figure of an entity. It was large, overwhelming, and weirdly familiar.

His hand clenched on his chest, he could feel his heart throbbing quickly.

It was unfathomable for him, but these weird dreams had presented themselves to Harriet before. He simply shrugged it off as the Whispers of the Arcane, deriving from the whispers and lullabies he could hear in his dreams when he was still a child.

Now, standing near the figure, the words weighed on his tongue. He had always wanted to ask,

Who are you?

However, before he could, he always fell away from this realm, but this time, the entity was speaking to another figure.

"- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -"

The sound that the other figure emitted. Unlike the entity, it was very animated and expressive,

Almost desperate.

For Harriet, the other figure looked like it was suffering, complaining to the entity. Yet the entity merely shook its head. Without hesitation, it extended its arm toward the other figure, thus pushing it away into oblivion.

"H-hey!"

Harriet's hand flew to his mouth. He had called out without thinking, an instinctive attempt to stop it, to save the other figure.

The entity faced him. It slightly glitched, but Harriet could discern its feathers covering its face.

A crow?

He first thought of this because of its deep black hue.

"Who are you?"

The entity refused to answer. Its fingers then flicked.

In cold sweat, Harriet jolted awake. His breath came fast, his heart hammering against his ribs. This wasn't something he had signed up for, or so he thought.

"Why does it always end like that...?" he asked himself while rubbing the saliva off the corner of his lips.

His arms stretched, followed by a large yawn.

His eyes then shifted to the clock. He panicked.

"Ah, right! The weekly program with Kafka..." Harriet mumbled with a lack of enthusiasm.

Harriet began to prepare for today's plan. It was supposed to be just him and Kafka.

Him and Kafka??

Yes. Him and Kafka.

He could already imagine the stares, no, not at him, but at her. At her unmistakable blue hair. What a pain in the ass.

"Man... I'd rather spend a day with Erika..." he murmured as he rushed out of his apartelle.

Harriet strutted through the streets of the City of Novatlanta, one of the last strongholds of humanity. It is quite advanced compared to the other last cities, maybe it's because of the opportunists swarming within the city.

From the floating research facilities to the Argent Soldiers patrolling the streets, the city stood as a testament to survival. Adventurers roamed as well, risking their lives for glory, their names carved into history each time they saved citizens from the monsters spilling out of the Dungeons.

If the Nascent Cataclysm had never happened... would I still be considered the Hero of Humanity?

Harriet pushed the thought aside as soon as he spotted Kafka.

Her blue hair still attracted the attention of the people around them. Harriet, as usual, thought that this day would not be worthwhile.

He slowly approached Kafka, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Harriet! What took you so long?"

Kafka beamed at him, her grin stretching from ear to ear. If not for her blue hair, she might have been adored by those around her. But alas, it was a symbol of the Elven Hero's tyranny, his sins forever etched into history.

"My bad, my bad, I slept a little late." Harriet feigned a smile as he replied.

"Was it because of Erika's concert?? I was there too! She was super cool!" Kafka practically bounced with excitement, her red eyes gleaming.

Though Harriet averted his gaze away, shifting it toward the nearby fast-food chain, "Do you wanna grab some fries?" he asked.

Kafka nodded. "Okay!"

This was their weekly routine. Harriet only abided under Erika's request.

Kafka is a valuable asset. You should not drive her away. At least bond with her once a week. We are party members, right?

What Erika had said, Harriet could only reimagine her smile as he walked side by side with his blue-haired companion.

Harriet's resentment toward Kafka ran deep. She was small, barely imposing, yet he could never defeat her. That stung. Erika valued Kafka as a competent adventurer who would aid Harriet in his future endeavors, thus, he did this despite his detachment.

After ordering their meals, they both sat at the table, waiting for the burgers and fries. Kafka, as always, her smile never faltered despite the discrimination toward her, in general, toward people who had blue hair.

They were associated with the Elven Hero, the person who once enveloped the world in fear. It was before the Nascent Cataclysm even occurred. This thousand-year fear was carried through generations, by humans, beastkins, and elves alike.

Harriet could only wonder,

How scary would it have been if he was born during the era when the Elven Hero was still reigning over the world?

He sighed.

Their order arrived, making Kafka happy. She grabbed her burger and began savoring each bite.

Meanwhile, Harriet couldn't eat in peace. The gazes of the crowd must've gotten to him. How scary would it be if he was also born with blue hair? Certainly, he didn't want to be cursed with a body that only served as the Elven Hero's vesse—

"Harriet!"

Kafka's voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

"I've called you three times. Aren't you gonna finish your food?" she asked, her cheeks puffed in annoyance, intending to eat Harriet's share.

"Go on, I'm not really feeling like eating burgers today." He sighed and placed the half-eaten burger down.

Kafka's face softened. With hesitance, she asked, "Do you really like spending time with me?"

Harriet's eyebrows furrowed. His gaze shifted away from her face. "Well... yeah, my bad, I'm just feeling under the weather..."

After they enjoyed their snacks, Kafka and Harriet proceeded to indulge in the arcade. It was their day off, they were supposed to at least enjoy it.

For Harriet, peace was never within reach. But he found solace in the little things, small moments of distraction that let him detach from the title that had been forced upon him.

Hero of Humanity.

As always, Kafka defeated him in every aspect, so he considered their time together a waste, not worthwhile. It was a drag if you were constantly beaten down anyway.

By the time they left the arcade, the moon hung low in the night sky. The air was calm, the city quiet. Harriet exhaled in relief.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

Harriet picked it up.

"Sir Harriet!!" a voice cried from the other end.

"Penny??" He jolted, instinctively pulling the phone away from his ear.

Kafka chuckled at his reaction.

"There's a proooblem!! I lost Erika!" the person, Penny, continued to wail.

Harriet's breath caught in his throat. "Huh... what do you mean?" His grip tightened on the phone.

"There's... a group of assassins! We were lured into a Rift! We entered a Dungeon!! I lost her!"

Harriet's chest tightened. This was bad.

"Where are you?!"

"Near the academy... there's a Rift there!" Penny answered immediately. "Am I a useless maid?! I looost her!! I don't want to lose her!!" she whimpered as Harriet and Kafka sprang into action.

Both nodded at each other and wove their way through the busy streets of Novatlanta. For some reason, Harriet felt confident that they would reach Erika alive in time.

It was just a feeling.

A familiar feeling.

After minutes of running, Kafka and Harriet finally reached the Rift—a portal leading into the Dungeon. An ominous sensation pulsed from it, likely from the miasma it emitted.

"Thankfully, the Rift is still too small for monsters to breach into the city," Kafka mumbled, her usual smile fading due to the situation at hand.

Harriet only nodded in return. He hadn't expected the day to take such a turn for the worse.

Both of them reached for the pills in their pockets, necessary to grant immunity from the Dungeon's miasma for several hours. It was the only way to prevent corruption. Once a person was corrupted, they would turn into a monster.

Then, without hesitation, they stepped into the Rift.

But for Harriet, it was more than that.

He was saving the only person he loved—Erika.

Erika...

Harriet thought as he and Kafka wove through the dangers of the Dungeon.

It didn't even look like a Dungeon, it was a spitting image of Novatlanta. But the structures were in ruins, the landscape apocalyptic and barren.

It was still a mystery.

Why did this world take such a shape?

Everything here was a reflection of Novatlanta.

Eerie. Familiar. Terrifying.

Harriet's sword cleaved through a monster in a single stroke. Its form was humanoid, its skin riddled with magical stones, like scales. Yet it had no face. Just a blank canvas where its features should have been.

Their appearances varied, shifting with the mana they carried. Some were pure Dungeon creatures. Others were once human.

Harriet couldn't shake the feeling that he was slaughtering people.

Kafka, however, killed them without hesitation.

A sudden rumbling echoed from afar. Buildings crumbled, followed by explosions from the east, where Novatlanta's City Hall should have been.

They rushed toward the sound. Harriet couldn't hold himself back. He was both terrified and calm.

Terrified by the Dungeon's dangers.

Calm, because of the unfathomable feeling that Erika was still alive.

"Harriet, cover me." Kafka whispered before surging ahead.

Battle axe in hand, she leaped across the ruined skyline, moving with effortless precision.

Harriet followed, but he was human. His body lacked Kafka's elven grace, her beastlike agility. She was in a league of her own.

The explosions grew louder, and for a brief moment, fear gripped Harriet's chest. His heart pounded violently, threatening to burst from his ribs.

But he had to save Erika. He had to be her hero.

"If not for humanity... I should at least be one for her." He murmured, reminding himself of his selfish ideals.

Then Kafka leaped off a building.

"Kafka—!" Harriet shouted, skidding to a stop. He hesitated. He thought about taking the stairs, but that would be stupid. It would slow him down.

Kafka landed effortlessly, unscathed. Smoke veiled the area, but she could smell Erika's perfume.

"She's here." Kafka whispered, assessing the situation, scanning the environment.

Her stance faltered. Something was off.

As the smoke cleared, the supposed assassins came into view—dead.

Kafka's eyes narrowed. She moved forward with caution.

Then she jolted back, axe raised.

A figure stood before her.

Who is that?

Her eyes flicked to Erika, unconscious on the ground. No fatal injuries.

Then to him.

A cloaked figure.

He crouched near Erika, unmoving.

He was cloaked, and he smelled strange—like charred wood.

"Kafka Nethercott, worry not."

The stranger's voice was calm. He stood, towering even over Harriet from what she could perceive. There was no immediate hostility in his stance, but Kafka remained on guard.

He turned toward her, still cradling Erika.

"I saved her just in time."

Kafka narrowed her eyes.

A... dragonkin?

Kafka wondered.

Before she could speak, a flash of light went past her, in the blink of an eye, Harriet had already steeled himself for a fight. His sword, Thanaktos, was drawn, prepared to cut down the man.

"How dare you hurt Erika?!" he growled, swinging his sword, aiming at the man's neck. His precise technique would have made any ordinary person panic, but this man took action.

"Magical Bullet Number 0066..."

The man cast, his voice a whisper, yet it echoed. He simply leaped backward, it was as if the motion slowed down, though he was quicker than Harriet. His hand emitted a faint glow of red—

Harriet barely had time to react before a magical projectile hit his stomach. He skidded to a stop, maintaining distance from the man. The pain stung, but it only burned his clothing. He winced from the bullet's lingering burn. His eyes then shifted to the man.

What is this?

He brought a gun to a sword fight?!

It made Harriet frustrated. He scanned the man's gun, it wasn't something out of the ordinary. Even Thanaktos, his sword, felt rage. It trembled from the faint scent of mana that came from the bullet and the gun.

Once again, Harriet steeled himself, his stance now refined, prepared to slash the man.

"Are you aware that your attacks won't work on me..." the man mumbled. It was almost as if he was mocking Harriet.

The man's words made Harriet grit his teeth. He wasted no time dashing toward him. His sword glided through the wind currents, making a swooshing sound from its speed as it prepared to land on the man's arm.

Yet, the man effortlessly parried with his gun. With just one free hand, he was strong enough to receive Harriet's attack. For him, this was probably a dull exercise.

Harriet clicked his tongue in frustration and withdrew, leaping backward to maintain distance.

As he did so, the man chanted the same spell once again.

"Magical Bullet Number 0066."

This alarmed Harriet, and he braced to dodge the attack. But the man's bullet reacted quicker, hitting him in the shoulder.

But this time, weirdly enough, the bullet seemed to wear Harriet down. He speculated that maybe it had other properties in the spell, it wasn't just about fire and steel, but perhaps it had a lasting effect.

"Give Erika back!!" Harriet demanded, his hands trembled yet his fingers curled on the hilt of his sword, his legs almost faltering from the man's attack.

The man's golden eyes glinted under the moonlight. He wasn't provoking Harriet, he was simply confused.

"Are... you truly the Hero?"

Huh?! What does he mean?!

"I don't even want to be one!" Harriet, now enraged, let his body dash toward the man with reckless abandon.

His path to heroism had always received mockery, but Harriet could understand.

Harriet understands that he doesn't want to be the Hero of Humanity.

Why him? Why should he shoulder the burden of becoming a lone star amidst a sky filled with monsters?

His rage blinded him.

For him, becoming Erika's hero was enough, he didn't want to be everyone's hero.

As Harriet's sword glided toward the man, this time, the man did not plan to counter his attacks. Instead, he turned his back on Harriet—

His back received Harriet's rage. His blade finally struck the man. But it wasn't enough. It only tore his clothing, not his skin.

The man remained unscathed.

Before Harriet could stab him again, Kafka finally intervened. She swung the shaft of her axe between them, blocking Harriet's sword.

"I don't think he's the assassin!" Kafka shouted.

"But he's taking Erika away! Can't you see?!" Harriet's voice cracked with anger.

"I mean... I just saved her." The man said flatly.

"Huh..."

"Yes, I saved her. Why am I being attacked? Are you truly a Hero... or just a bloodlusted lover boy?"

Harriet blinked.

The moonlight illuminated the man's face, his expression full of disdain.

"Oh..." Harriet slowly lowered his weapon.

"My fault."

"No, my fault." The man finally handed Erika to Harriet.

His eyes seemed apologetic, he couldn't even hold Harriet's gaze for a second. Despite his towering figure, he was fidgety.

"I hope you can forgive me."