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CHAPTER 33 Help those Poor who Remain
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 16:26:01 +0000 UTCCrimson filled the world as the dawn came.
Across the continent many were long asleep, safe behind their walls. But a certain village on the frontier, was still purging the last monsters from its confines.
As the beasts were banished, the people celebrated. The fighters hugged one another, cheering their hard-fought survival. The glory! They had stood their ground!
But it wasn’t meant to last. Minutes passed. A man found his son’s head, severed on the ground. The cheers grew quieter. Then silent.
A woman dropped to her knees, her blood and sweat dripping onto the face of her dead husband.
The light in their eyes dimmed, replaced by something hollow. The reality started to set in.
Human and monster corpses, too many to count, littered the ground. Not even half had survived, and those who did, were left with heavy burdens on their hearts.
Everyone had seen the fiery inferno obliterating the monsters. Now it was impossible to miss the aftermath of it. The air was thick with the stench of burnt wood and flesh. Smoke still drifted from the smoldering ruins.
Some were trying to be strong, or perhaps adrenaline hadn’t left them yet. They kicked through the debris, pulling out anything that could stave off the despair – a half-burnt blanket, a piece of flatbread.
Some shared what they found, others hid in desperation, shoving food into their mouths.
Others just sat there, in small, scattered groups, not even talking. Too drained to move. Too broken to weep.
A group of orphans stumbled through the square, their tear-streaked faces searching through the bodies.
A boy knelt beside a mutilated corpse, shaking.
A girl, no older than five, tugged at the arm of a man slumped against a charred wall – only the wind carried her whispers now.
Who to blame? Was it the Goddess’s will? Or just the weight of another’s choices.
A noble’s pride, an old hero’s honor, a child’s curiosity.
They had paid the price of their survival. But was it even worth it?
A man with a glowing sword was slowly digging out a grave, charred remains and a shiny shield by his side.
A husband cradled his half-dead wife, blessing and cursing her audacity.
A boy, huddled behind a burnt house hurriedly cut and filed down his nails.
A green-haired girl stared blankly ahead, with nothing and no one left.
-=-=-
Darryl knelt by Brenn’s grave. The dirt was fresh. The loss was, too. He clenched his jaw. It wasn’t worth it.
Around him, a small crowd assembled. Exhausted faces. People who couldn’t accept their loss just yet. They all looked up to him with hope. Expectation. Demands.
Needy bastards, all of them.
He had no words for them. Not yet.
Brenn. “You just had to go and die, didn’t you?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Did your brain rot from old age?” He spat on the ground near the grave.
The onlookers gasped, looking between themselves with horrified expressions.
Fuck this place, I don’t care anymore.
He pushed himself to his feet, his back hunched, and his face etched with an abrasive scowl. A picture of a brigand more than a guard.
He only had disdain for the crowd around him, as he turned to address them.
“A hero went and died for you,” he said, his voice rough. “So be grateful.” He paused, scanning the faces of the weary survivors. “I’m outta here tomorrow. If you’re leaving too, take an orphan or two with you. At least until the next village.”
A few heads turned toward the huddled children.
Darryl’s gaze hardened. “And if you’re staying…” He paused, as people hung onto his words. “May the goddess have mercy on your souls.”
He picked up the final memento of Brenn the lineholder, and walked away, his grip tight on the magical sword and shield.
Gotta tie up the debts. His steps carried him toward an exhausted pair—
He reached the little lady, semi-conscious from her exploits. She was covered in burns from head to toe. Pitiful sight.
“Quite the show you did earlier. Quite risky too.” He addressed her, trying hard not to let his expression change.
“Do you think we would have survived without it?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“No.”
“Then… We risked nothing.” She said. Her face was pale. Even those few words cost her dearly to utter.
“I will never understand alchemists. You’re all a crazy bunch.” He paused. “Whatever, I came to give this back.” Bert accepted the sword.
Darryl turned away as he spoke. “I considered running with it, but you saved my ass twice, nah, thrice last night.”
Aura’s didn’t respond, but Bert nodded. Now to find the troublemaker.
He found Marco emerging from a house’s ruins. He was covered in bandages, his shoulder leaking black puss.
“Oi,” Darryl barked, yanking the child from behind and eliciting a whimper.
Marco stumbled slightly but didn’t resist. Darryl’s hand stung as the oozing liquid touched it. What the…?
He crouched, wiped it off into the grass and turned his focus back to the boy.
“Nice going with the predator. You got it good.” Darryl said, his tone cold but pointed. “You got a few of my men too.” Marco’s eyes widened in panic as Darryl continued. “On that note, you lost something,”
Darryl reached into his pocket then shoved the fried amulet into the boy’s hand, watching him tremble as his fingers closed around it.
Marco stared at the artifact and his face went pale. “N-no… What is this?”
“Is that your best attempt?” Darryl replied, his tone mocking. He leaned in, his gaze unwavering. “So, you were the one who finished poor ol’ Calland off. “
Marco’s started to tremble. “I-I Did-“
“Enough of this farce.” Darryl interrupted.
The results were immediate.
Marco straightened a little, all but dropping the act. His voice quivering but feisty. “He deserved it!”
“Damn straight.” Darryl nodded. “I probably would’ve killed that shitstain myself if I got the chance,” He added, his tone seeping anger.
The child’s brows shot up; his shoulders lowered in relief. “Then why-“
Darryl grabbed Marco’s head and turned it. “Look at them.” A group of orphans huddled together, their eyes seeing no future.
Darryl hesitated. Is it too much? Nah. It had to be said. “The knights left, leaving their parents to die. They paid off your crime. Think about that.”
Marco’s small frame shook as he erupted into a fit of withheld sobs, “I-I’m sorry,” he wailed, tears streaming down his face. “What will happen to me now?”
Darryl eyed the kid from top to bottom. Heavy wound on the shoulder, hands deeply colored in blood and guts.
Can’t say he didn’t at least try. He looked up at the sky, as if searching for Brenn’s face among the clouds. Would you have covered for a criminal again?
Darryl gathered his thoughts for a while then spat to the side. “Whether I like it or not, you saved my ass. So did your mother. Twice.” Darryl said, his relaxed voice hiding the tension in his heart. “I won’t rat you out”
Marco blinked in disbelief. “You… you won’t?”
“Consider it a symbol in the name of an old bastard.” Darryl said.
Marco nodded, his tears slowing, but Darryl wasn’t done. He stared deep into his eyes, His tone suddenly dead serious “One rebel to another – second chance’s rare enough. You won’t get a third. Don’t fuck it up.”
With that, Darryl straightened. He slung Brenn’s shield across his back. Then he turned towards the orphans. They were in dire straits, most of them wouldn’t survive the week.
He broke a piece of bread in half, handing it to a young girl with pink hair. She didn’t eat it but shared it with two even younger boys. A good heart, worth saving. He took all three of them in and led them to his house.
This was the true duty of the survivors.
-=-=-
David wandered through the wreckage, Darryl’s words gnawing at him. They wouldn’t leave him alone.
His gaze caught a flash of green amidst the soot-stained crowd. Sophie. She was sitting on a broken crate near the edge of the square, her eyes vacant as she stared into the remains of her home.
Ever since the scene within the forest, he felt a weird kinship towards her. Here sat someone abused, someone broken, not unlike him.
David hesitated, then approached. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the murmurs of the villagers.
She didn’t respond. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her posture slumped, her entire being radiating despair.
“You... you okay?” he asked, knowing full well the answer.
Her head turned slightly, just enough for him to catch light reflecting off her tear-streaked face. She didn’t respond.
David knelt in front of her, ignoring the discomfort of his still-aching wounds. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I really do.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly at the kid in front of her, a flicker of anger breaking through the haze of sorrow. “You don’t get anything.”
His ears felt hot. It’s okay, she doesn’t know. He caught himself. “You’re right, maybe I don’t. But you’re not alone.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t interrupt again.
David continued, “You can’t stay here. Come with me. We’ll find Aura and Bert. They’ll help. Maybe you could come live with us?”
She shook her head, her green hair swaying with the motion. “Why? Everything’s gone. There’s nothing left for me now.”
“Your parents would want you to live.” David said, his voice rising slightly. “Carry their memory and make them proud when they look at you from Goddess’s side.”
He had spent all his life an atheist, but religion had a useful way of dealing with grief.
She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “Why do you even care?”
His thoughts turned to Marie. How she lifted him up with her mere presence.
He swallowed hard. “Because when someone cares…” he said. “It makes all the difference.”
They weren’t the best words. He couldn’t heal her soul with them. But who could? All they could do was keep moving on.
Without waiting for her response, he stood up and gently but firmly took her arm. “Come on.”
She resisted at first, but he didn’t let go. Eventually, her shoulders slumped in resignation, and she allowed him to lead her toward the center of the square.
-=-=-
Bert was tending to a group of wounded villagers when David approached, Sophie trailing behind him.
Aura’s face lit up and she jerked up at the sight of him. “Marco!” she exclaimed, but her head immediately fell back down.
She was barely moving, her hair was mostly burnt away and her face…
“I’m fine,” David said quickly, avoiding looking at her and trying to change topics. “But Sophie isn’t.” He gestured to the girl. “She lost her parents. She’s all alone.”
Bert frowned. “Marco, we planned to tell you later, but… we’re leaving the village. In a few days.”
What? David’s eyes widened, but then he looked around. The village was dying. It makes sense.
Bert continued, as he looked at Sophie with pity. “Supplies are scarce, and we might not be able to help.”
She nodded, but her expression didn’t change much.
“She can help us, Bert.” Aura whispered. She couldn’t even glance at Sophie, but she cut off her husband’s protest. “Don’t treat her like a dead weight”.
Bert exhaled, rubbing his temple. He didn’t argue, not with his wife in such dire straits.
“It’s decided then.” He muttered. “We’ll look after you.”
Sophie hesitated, then nodded, her shoulders trembling as she fought back tears.
“Now that we’re all back together, we should go home,” Bert said, his voice low but firm.
“She needs rest.” He crouched beside Aura, carefully adjusting his grip before lifting her into his arms.
She was unconscious already, the short exchange tiring her out.
Bert exhaled slowly as he looked at her. His tired eyes were dry. There was no time for tears.
David and Sophie followed as Bert started down the road, his steps slow, exhausted.
David’s eyes flickered to the villagers they passed.
They were being watched.
Those who were nearby when she had unleashed the fires had their eyes filled with admiration, even awe.
They looked at Aura as if she were a savior—the woman who burned the monsters away and saved the village.
But not all of them knew how dire their situation truly was.
Some stood stone-faced. Their gazes lingered on the burnt ruins, on the scorched homes and collapsed buildings.
They needed someone to blame.
Their grief twisted into something darker. Resentment, maybe even hatred. They weren’t just mourning. They were looking for someone to vilify.
David’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t fair.
He had heard that story before. Marie often talked about ‘problems’ at work. She even once received threats just for doing her job.
Were our deaths connected to that? David shivered, then shook his head. It didn’t matter anymore.
It was surprising how much the recent events dulled his pain. When he had first awoken a year and a half ago, he almost had a panic attack from just muttering her name.
What an absolute shithole of a world.
But it was his now. And the danger wasn’t gone, not entirely.
He quickened his pace, stepping closer to Bert. His voice dropped to a whisper, “Maybe we should leave tonight instead.”
Bert stiffened. He didn’t stop walking, but his grip on Aura tightened. He looked around, witnessing the same lingering gazes.
“Idiots,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice barely concealed. His tone was calm, but David could feel the anger simmering beneath it. “Is this their version of gratitude?”
David swallowed. They didn’t survive that hell just to get lynched the next day. He had to push it. “I’m scared…” He whimpered. “Let’s leave, please.”
Bert didn’t say anything else. He only adjusted Aura in his arms and kept walking.
By the time they reached home, golden rays of sunlight showered the world. The goddess was back.
Bert laid Aura down carefully.. He slumped beside her, rubbing his face. The tension hadn’t left him.
David hesitated, but then sat across from him. Sophie stood awkwardly near the door, as if unsure whether she was allowed inside.
“We leave tonight, then?” David asked.
Bert didn’t answer right away. He let out a slow breath, as if steadying himself. “She saved them…” he finally said. “And now she has to run like a criminal.”
David glanced toward Aura. Bert was trying to remove the burnt cloth and awkwardly apply some healing paste. She was unconscious already. Probably for the better.
He stood up. He had no idea where they would go next. But they wouldn’t be here when the sun rose.
