You shake your head vehemently. "No. I won't stand by while you all give in to worthless bandits. I'll stay, and fight them off tomorrow."

Eliza's eyes widen. "You're still hurt! They're near fifty strong, if you fight them, you'll die!" She's begging you particularly hard.

"I've fought worse odds. I can handle them." To prove your point, you get out of the bed and stand up, Eliza moving quickly to sit you back down. You shrug her hands off.

"Please, don't. These men will slaughter you."

"I can do it." You shoulder your way past her, to your knapsack. There, you slip into your clothing, and grab your sword. "I'll watch for them. When they come, I'll kill them all." A bloodthirsty grin makes its way onto your face. "Watch." Ignoring any further pleas from Eliza, you carry onward and leave the room. You see that it's a small hut, the only door leading directly outside; it's night, which means you have time to set up.

You go to the largest tree in the center of the village, scaling up it and sitting on a branch. There, you wait. And wait. Then you wait some more.

The sun is high in the sky, the villagers are out in the fields, and your ass is sore by the time the raiders finally do come. The villagers milling about pause in their work as they watch them, all with fear written on their faces. The raider leader, a large and burly man in chainmail, raises his arms up high. "People of this fair village! We have come to accept your surrender. Should you resist, we'll kill all of you. So please, resist."

Isaiah steps forward, head down low. You note the bandage on his cheek, where the cigar was jammed into his face. "Please, don't harm us. We surrender. You are free to take all the supplies we have."

The raider leader lets out a small tsk, shaking his head. "Really? That's all? How disappointing." You're about to jump down and attack him, when...

"I guess we'll just have to kill you anyway." The raider leader pulls out his sword and runs it through Isaiah's chest. Your blood begins to pump viciously. "Kill them all."

That's when you finally jump from the branch. You were too late. Isaiah is dead, because you took too long to just jump down and kill them. You're no hero.

You land on top of the nearest raider, his head crushing beneath the weight of your boot. The others quickly turn their eyes to you and stare in awe. You unsheathe your sword, then start swinging with a primal yell. A few men are taken down by your blade, while the others go on the attack. You bring up your blade occasionally to block attacks, swinging when you see an opening. It's a slaughter for them.

By the time you take down a few dozen, the others begin to retreat. Their leader yells at them, calls them cowards, but stands his ground. "FINE!" He unsheathes a blade of his own. "I'll do it myself!" He goes on the attack, swinging the sword at you. You block it, then swing, but the raider manages to leap out of the way. Damn, if you weren't still recovering, you could have gotten him. Still, it's been a long while since someone managed to dodge one of your attacks. This should be fun.

The two of you continue on like that for a while; he strikes, you block, you strike, he dodges. It's almost like a dance between two experienced partners. This man, he's well trained, and a far better swordsman than you are. There's one difference though, and that is while you lack strength, you make up for it in raw power.

It also helps that you picked the winning side in this battle.

Slowly, the villagers start to gather courage. Before you know it, rocks are being pelted at the raider. He ignores them well enough, but they throw him off enough that he starts to barely evade your attacks. Then, after a longer time, some start pushing forward with pitchforks and other tools in hand. They attack, but the raider attacks back and they retreat before they get killed.

But, their attacks are all you need, and soon, one of your swings eventually makes its way into his hip. He lets out a yell of agony, dropping his blade and falling into a kneel. You don't waste any time letting him have his last words, instead bringing the blade down right onto his head, bisecting it down the middle.

There is silence.

Then, defeaning cheers.

The town is safe. You've done it.

There are no celebrations afterwards however. The bodies of the raiders are burned, Isaiah is brought to his daughter. The others return to their homes, some continue to work. Eliza picks out a plot in the cemetary, and the gravekeeper gets to work. You approach her as she watches. Her father has been set down in a coffin not far from the grave.

Her eyes are red and puffy. She's been crying all day, no doubt. You place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him," you say.

She turns to look at you, no malice whatsoever on her face. "I know."

"What will you do now? Manage the inn?"

She sighs, shakes her head. "I don't know. My father was all I had."

You nod. "... I'll leave you be."

Then, you walk away.

You have a decision to make. Stay here in this village and live out the rest of your days, or continue onwards into the great unknown.
> You you'll leave. You defended the village, and now nothing is left for you here.
You spend the next few days in the hut where you were told to recover, Eliza visiting you every now and again. She's going to manage the inn, because that's what her father would have wanted. You make it no secret that you'll leave; she looks sad when you say you will, but accepts it nonetheless. You almost feel sorry for her, like you might stay if only to help her, but you know you can't.

A few days later, you've fully recovered, and you pack up your things. As you step onto the open road for the first time in almost a week, it feels liberating. You missed this. But, before you go, you hear someone calling your name. Turning, you see Eliza, waving wildly. She smiles faintly, then calls out, "Be sure to come and visit sometime!"

You let out a laugh, then call back, "I'll be sure to if I'm in the area again!" With that, she heads back to the inn, and you continue onward into the great unknown.

THE END


You decide not to bother the wandering trader, instead taking a seat at a table by your lonesome. Eventually, the trader gets up and leaves, heading back to his room for the night. You never see him again. After a few more drinks, you stumble out of the dining hall and up the stairs to your room. There, you throw your sword and knapsack to the floor, before passing out on your bed.

In the morning, you awake to a woman's scream. Groggily, you get up, heading to the door so you can see what the hell is going on - grabbing your sword along the way, of course. When you head down the stairs, you see a pair of thugs roughing up the owner, Isaiah. His daughter Eliza watches on, tears streaming from her eyes, as a third thug holds her back. The two harassing Isaiah stick a lit cigar into his face. This time, it's Isaiah who screams.

The thugs laugh at him, sadistic grins on their faces. Your stomach turns. This is disgusting.

Then, one of the thugs turns his head and looks at you. He whistles, the other two looking at you soon after. One with a strange piercing in his nose lets out a laugh. "Oi, you! Quit yer starin' and get outta here, chump." Perhaps you should do something about this, or not. After all, this doesn't involve you.
> You you'll just leave. Doesn't involve you.
You raise your hands, shake your head. "Do what you will. I'm leaving." With those words, you make your way to the door. Eliza shoots a horrified look at you, Isaiah stares at you with pure hatred in his eyes. They must think you're an awful person. You're not; you're just doing what you have to in order to survive.

You exit the inn, leaving the bandits with Isaiah and Eliza. As you leave, you hear another scream, from Isaiah again. Can't be helped. Much as you want to go back in, sword in hand, you don't want to cause more trouble to the town by killing those bandits. All in all, you're doing this for the right reasons... Mostly.

You walk down the road, never returning to the village again.

THE END


You take the path that eventually merges back onto the main roads. This is a common route for wandering merchants or supply caravans, with villages darting the path every couple of miles. The entire route itself from where you are is about 30 miles, where it runs into the city of Sodran and then disappears, assimilated into the highways.

The villages in these areas all make their profits in a variety of ways. Some survive off of hunting and gathering, others fishing, most farming. One village, from what you've heard, even makes money by hiring off the able-bodied men and women to traveling merchants in need of protection. Whatever gets the bills paid and keeps food on the table, you suppose.

It's an hour into your march that you come across the first village. There's an inn right on the edge of the town that's still open. The lit lanterns within seep through the windows, as if a beacon guiding weary travelers to the doorstep. On the side of the inn is a small stable, where some horses and a mule reside. The horses have everything from a simple saddle to a whole pack of belongings tied to them, and the mule has a pack of wares strapped to its back.

You can stop at the inn for the night. It would be nice to sleep in a warm bed. Still, you don't want to get distracted; you can just carry on through the night to put as much distance between you and your former estate as you can.
> You you'll continue on the road.
You pass the inn by, instead opting to continue on into the night on the road. Carrying onward for miles, you eventually lay down on the side of the road to sleep for the night. A few hours later you awaken to the morning light, and continue onwards, north to Sodran.

You've been there before, almost a lifetime ago. Back in your day the place was like a sapling surrounded by soot; attempting to grow, but suppressed by its surroundings. The metaphorical soot to the city's metaphorical sapling was the evil wizard you faced down. Try as you might, you could never forget the expressions on the faces of the downtrodden. They looked like they had nothing to live for.

You suppose you know know how it feels now.

By midday, the city is within sight after passing a few dozen villages or so. Great walls surround it, and tall buildings poke out from behind the walls. Stone steps lead up to a massive stone archway, which itself leads into the city proper. There's a statue at the base of the steps, the details of which you can't make out, but it looks like it's in decent condition from this far away. It's a magnificent sight, to be sure.

Once you're within a half mile of the city not an hour later, you finally notice something you couldn't spot from further away: a large camp encompasses the city. Strange. A quarter mile away you can make out shambling figures stumbling around the camp. Once you get close, not ten yards away, you can make out exactly what's happening.

The shambling figures all look to be malnourished and dressed in glorified rags. The adults sit around the camp looking defeated, a small number praying to whatever God they worship. A few children run around kicking a ball, but their expressions tell you that they've experienced too much. What the hell is going on here?

You go and speak to a guard watching them all, and ask him who these people are. His reply is to let out a dry chuckle. "What, haven't been to this city in a while? These are the unfortunate bastards who were denied access to our fair city. Refugees and the like from the war with Kishak. Mostly natives to our kingdom, couple of Kishak bastards here and there."

"Is there any reason the Count of this city has it closed off?" you ask. His response is to laugh again.

"There's an entry fee, two hundred gold coins. They," he gestures to the camp, "couldn't cover it. Poor bastards, left to rot out here."

What the hell? They couldn't pay some fee, so now they're locked from entering the city? At the very least you can pay it, but you suppose the question remains if you can just walk on by these people.
> You can't do that. You need to do something. Get them to rise up.
It pains you to watch these people carry on like this. Just wandering, barely any food, scarce shelter, and no chance of ever entering the city they're so desperate to live in. This Count of Sodran guy. You've never heard of him, considering the last time you were here the title was still "mayor". It doesn't matter who he's supposed to be, because you know that he's not doing this city any good.

You walk away from the guard and head to the nearest refugee. "Do you have a leader I can speak to?"

He looks up at you, a dejected expression on his face, and gives a weary sigh. He points to a tent that's larger than the rest. "Hugo, the old man in there, is sort of our leader. He gets us jobs in the area and makes sure everyone is well fed."

You nod. "Thanks for the info." With those words, you head to the tent, intent on pitching your idea to the leader. Opening the tent's flaps and stepping inside, you see that it's decorated scarcely. There's some small bedding in the corner, next to a chair and a small bookshelf. An old man with weathered features and a bushy beard sits in the chair reading a book.

You give a cough to break the silence, and he looks up, smiling at you. "Oh, hello there. New to our fair camp?" His voice carries a thick Kishak accent. Guess you know where he's from now.

"No. I came to speak to you about Sodran, and the Count."

"What about it, stranger?"

"Have you ever thought about how many people you have here? It's at least a legion's worth, damn near a thousand from the looks of it. If you banded together... You could take the city."

Hugo looks a bit shocked by your proposal, but not disapproving of the idea. "... Maybe we could, stranger. But what business do you have with us, or Sodran, or the Count?"

"None at all. I'm just a traveler with too much time on his hands."

Hugo mulls your words over. He stares at you, as if trying to assess your reasons for approaching him with this proposition. Finally, he shrugs, and nods at you. "Very well then. I'll organize the refugees... Did you come here just to plant the idea in my head, or do you want to participate in this... Uprising?"
> You you've come this far, might as well follow through. You'll join their uprising.
You nod your head. "Yeah. I'll join you in your uprising."

Hugo smiles, and nods. "Very well. You seem like you have the most combat experience out of anyone in this camp, anyhow! I was simply a baker back home, har har!"

"Is there anyone here who can fight?"

"A decent chunk, I'd say. Mostly defending themselves from any bandits back in their homes. I can take you to Rupert, he was a mercenary years ago. He retired four years back, but he may be willing to help you organize this."

You nod. "I'll speak to him. What does he look like?"

"He's a bit younger than me. He has a bushy mustache, bright red hair, green eyes. You'll know him when you see him, he always has a big smile on his face. In the meantime, I'll gather the others."

Wait. A Rupert with red hair and green eyes? Oh God, if it is him... Grunting in acknowledgement, you go on your way to find Rupert. It doesn't take you long, as you find him swinging his sword at a tree in the center of the camp. Oh great, it probably is him. Approaching him, you speak, "Keeping your swordsmanship sharp?"

He nods, not looking away from his practice. When he speaks, it's in a voice you know: "Aye, I were a merc many years back! Ran me own company I did, paid well. I retired 'cause me wife wanted me to, but I still know 'ow to swing a sword 'round."

Great. It really is him."... Rupert. It's me, Kit."

He turns, and looks at you. His jaw drops along with his sword. Then, he's smiling widely. You're caught off guard by his speed as he rushes over to give you a hug. "Kit, ol' buddy ol' pal! It's been too damn long ya jammy bastard!"

"Yeah, Rupert. Too long. How've you been doing?"

"Pretty damn well I'd say, 'side from the whole losin' my home thing! Dear God lad, it's been ages. Ye've gotten so damn old! Even I look better than ya, haha!"

Despite yourself, you crack a smirk. "Really? At least I'm not soft in the middle like you, you old son of a bitch."

He chuckles. "Alright, maybe I've gotten a wee bit out of shape in the last coupla years. Could still kick yer ass, I bet! Oh, they always left that outta the stories, didn't they? How I whooped yer ass the first time we met! Think I could beat ya if we did round two?"

This makes you roll your eyes. "Oh, yeah, you soundly defeated me with your brave tactic of setting a trap. Piss off." You pause, remembering why you came here. "... Well, I'd love to chat about old times for longer, but I came here for a reason. I convinced the leader, Hugo, to start an uprising so you can get access into the city."

Rupert runs a hand along his chin. "Did ya now? I've been thinkin' 'bout it myself to be honest with ya. So, I'm down. It'll be just like old times, eh Kit?"

"Just like old times."

"So, when do we start and whadda we need to do?"

"Whenever we're ready. Right now, I think we need to stock up on weapons. You know anybody who has some?"

"Aye, that I do. There's a few people 'round here who have personal weapons, mostly shortswords and daggers. A few folks have stockpiles of them too, we could convince them to lend 'em out to the folks who don't have none."

You nod. "Good. You organize this, they'll trust someone they know more." Rupert nods at your words, then continues on to the people who have weapons. In the meantime, you head back to Hugo's tent. When you arrive, you see that he's outside, addressing a crowd of refugees.

"People of this fair camp," he speaks in a low voice, enough for people in the immediate vicinity to hear, but not loud enough for it to reach the guards watching the camp from a distance. "It is time for us to finally enter this city... By force."

A few members of the crowd gasp at this, but are otherwise not opposed by the idea. It makes sense, you suppose; this city has kept them under its boot long enough. Hugo continues, "This brave stranger here has finally given me the courage I need to carry this uprising out. Step forward." He points to you. You step up. "You have spoken to Rupert, yes?"

You nod. "Yes. I spoke to Rupert. He's currently gathering people who have stockpiles of weapons so that they may be handed out to all of you who need them."

Hugo nods. "Very good. And before you begin to wonder, my friends: yes. Some of you may very well die in this uprising. But the important thing is that the other refugees will enter the city in your place."

The crowd all nods at this; they know not to cause a scene when the guards are near. They then head back to their tents, where they presumably get ready. Rupert comes to meet you and Hugo soon after.

"I spoke to the people that got weapons," he says. "They're all on board with the plan. This'll go right smooth like if we just keep on keepin' on."

Hugo nods. "Excellent work, Rupert. What have you to say, stranger?"

"When do we do this?"

"Tonight. The guards won't be expecting it then. We'll strike tonight."

You give a grunt in affirmation, then head off to the edge of the camp to await nightfall. Hours pass, and soon, the sun has gone down and the moon has taken its place in the sky. No lights illuminate the camp; it's as if nothing is there at all. You push through the inky darkness and to Hugo's tent.

There, he reads by candlelight. You speak up, "Hugo. Is it time?"

Hugo nods. "I do believe it's time." With that, he closes the book and stands, leaving the tent. One by one, the other refugees emerge from their tents as well. They must be better coordinated than you thought. With everyone gathered, you make sure you have their attention, then address them.

"We'll head through the front gates. I'll take out any opposition, I'll just need the others to watch my back." They all look apprehensive of the idea, but after a moment they nod. Still, you know well enough that they might bolt at the first sign of trouble. You gather up whoever's fit to fight, giving a grand total of nearly two hundred for the attack. Hugo decides to stay behind to make sure the others are fine.
> You continue
This late at night, there are no guards milling around outside the city. Your band of would-be freedom fighters ascend the stone steps up to the city gates, completely unnoticed. When you reach the gates, you see two guards ahead; one is watching a firefly intently as it floats around his face, while the other has fallen asleep while standing up.

You unsheathe your sword and rush forward, stabbing the firefly guard through the chest. He lets out a blood-tinged gasp of mingled shock and pain, before slumping over. You pull your sword out of his chest and swing at the sleeping guard, whose head rolls to the ground before he can even wake up. "Open the gates," you order the others, and they move to do so.

The sound of wood grinding against stone greets your ears as the gates are opened. After a moment, they're open enough for you to slip through. Looking around, you see that only a few people roam the city streets, most of them guards. You turn your head over your shoulder to address the group, "If I look like I'm in trouble, come help. Otherwise, stay back." With those words, you charge at the nearest guard with a swing.

You cut down a few guards before they even notice you're there. Once they do, however, shouting breaks the silence of the night as they alert each other to your presence. One grabs a whistle and blows it, the sharp sound tearing through the city streets. Whatever civilians are around quickly run away... And you notice a few refugees taking the opportunity to bolt as well.

Damn those cowards! You should have figured, though: they're just peasants without a lot in life. They're not willing to die for their freedom. Hell, you're not even sure why you're fighting their fight... But you aren't one to quit something when you've started.

You continue to fight. Of the two hundred refugees that were fit to fight, a grand total of twenty stuck with you, with Rupert among them. The rest fled deeper into the city or back to the camp. It doesn't matter; what does matter right now is getting to the Count's manor and taking it down.

You continue to fight through the streets for what seems like days, but in truth was only about an hour. You cut down any guards that attacked, and the others watched your flanks and defended you when any got past your defenses. It works well as a system, but all good things must come to an end. One by one, your allies drop to the guards.

By the time you reach the Count's manor, four of you remain: yourself, Rupert, and two men you learn are named Karl and Frank. You don't bother with subtlety when you reach the metal gate in front of the Count's manor. Raising your blade up high, you slam it down upon the lock keeping it closed once, twice, three times, before it splits wide open and opens the way.

The moon illuminates the manor, casting a shadow on your quartet. No guards are there to greet you, which is strange. Looking around the courtyard leading into the manor, you notice a collection of barrels. Curious, you approach them, and read the labels on them.

They read "gunpowder".

You find yourself grinning. This will help. "You three, grab a barrel and throw it inside." The others quickly move to help you, picking them up and heading to the door. You open it for them, finding it unlocked, and they begin to throw the barrels into the entrance hall.

Once most of the barrels are inside, you grab the last one and pull the cork off the top. You drain a line of gunpower out of it, leading from the door to where the barrels are placed. Then, you exit the manor and pull out your tinderbox. The flames burst forth, and the trail of gunpowder ignites, moving slowly to the barrels. You take the chance to run in the opposite direction.

A moment later, there is a loud explosion, and the manor is set ablaze. Still, you keep on guard. There weren't any guards around, which is strange. As you're comtemplating, Rupert, Karl, and Frank are celebrating. "Lighten up, lad! We blew up the Count and his damned manor! The city's free!"

"Not quite."

You look up to see a man consumed by flames, floating above you. He begins to drop down, and you instantly roll backwards. The man on fire lands on top of Frank, smashing through his head and completely obliterating it. Karl and Rupert back away in terror.

"I don't appreciate what you did to my home. Die." He raises a hand, and slings a fireball at Karl. The refugee is consumed by flames, screaming all the while. Desperately, he tries to pat them away, but it does no good. He falls to the ground and rolls around in pain, his screeches of sheer agony lasting until his lungs collapse from the fire. Even then he's still alive, if only for a moment longer.

The man on fire turns to you. "You. Die." He slings a fireball your way, but you manage to deflect it with the flat side of your sword. The fireball flies right back at him, and he recoils away from it for only a moment. Still, he laughs. "You think you can kill me with fire? Really?"

He snaps his fingers and the fire subsides. He's naked, athletically built with fair skin. His black hair is messy. Another snap, and now he's fully clothed with hair neatly combed. "Tell me this, peasants. Why did you feel the need to burn down my manor?"

This is the Count.

"Yer a bastard that's corruptin' this fair city with yer stench, that's why!" Rupert answers for you, which makes the Count laugh heartily.

"My, you're something. An old drunk picking a fight he can't possibly win. Amusing." Then, the Count sighs. "Oh well, I'm bored of you." A snap of his fingers, and then Rupert is sent flying into a nearby wall. You shout his name, but the Count turns on you. "... Hm. You look familiar."

"I'm the man who saved this city, you son of a bitch! And I'm gonna do it again!" you shout, readying your sword.

The Count laughs. "Hoho, Sir Kit! I should have known! Come to slay the big bad Count, have we?"

"You're not human! You're a... A monster!"

"Demon, to be specific." He gives you a smug smile.

This son of a bitch, correcting you like you're a simple-minded peasant. You find yourself grinding your teeth together. Unconsciously, your grip on your sword tightens. As you're doing this, your eyes catch Rupert's as he picks himself up. He's still alive, if only barely. You can see the question in his eyes...

He's asking you if you want him to help you out.
> No. Rupert might die if he attacks. You'll do this yourself.
Slowly, you shake your head. Rupert looks slightly worried, but nods. That settled, you turn your attention back to the Count. He gives a tsk, shaking his head and chuckling slightly. "Colluding with your half dead pal? I'm not stupid or blind, you know."

Shit. Should have figured. Now you're glad you didn't bring Rupert into this. So, rather than try and fuck around any longer than you already have, you jump right into the fray. Swinging your sword at the demonic Count, you're not surprised when he catches the blade with his hands. You expected him to go for some blatant display of power like that. He just made a mistake.

You grit your teeth harder than you already were as you twist the blade. The Count is taken off guard by this and you manage to flip him onto his back. Yanking the sword from his grip, you raise it up high and swing down, cutting his head in half at the nose.

You let out of a sigh, thinking it's over, when you hear clapping behind you. "Well done, Kit! Well done!" You turn your head to see who's saying that...

It's the Count. Alive and unharmed. If you were any younger, you'd let out a gasp of shock and shout something like "how are you still alive?!" But you're not as stupid as you were. Instead, you release a weary sigh. "Let me guess: demonic powers?"

"You bet. No mortal can kill me."

You run forward and swing again. The Count blocks, but you continue to attack, until eventually you cleave him in half. He rises again. "Give up, Kit."

Your response comes in the form of a sword through his head.

The two of you dance like that for a while. Occasionally, he attacks, and it takes all you have to defend yourself. Even when he grazes you it's enough to nearly take you out of the fight. The only thing carrying you right now is adrenaline, passion, and pure unbridled hatred for this "man" and his kind.

You're not sure how long the fight lasts. You just know that right now you're keeping yourself held up by your sword. Your body is bloodied and bruised, and you're not sure how long you can keep going... That is, until you notice a strange black orb poking out of the Count's chest.

His heart.

He doesn't notice, because he simply awaits your next attack. "Looks like your wounds are catching up to you, human. Next time you strike, I'll bring you down."

You're going to have to make this one count.

Picking up your sword, you make as if you're going to swing, and run at the Count. He's already moving to intercept your swing, when you quickly shift and run your sword through his heart. A look of shock makes its way onto his face, and he swings a clawed hand at your face. It claws off a good chunk of your head, including your left eye, but you don't give a damn. You've got him now.

You pull the blade out once he hits the ground. He's not getting up from that. You almost feel like you're about to fall over and die yourself, but you raise your blade up high for the final attack. He raises his hand feebly. "W-wait, d-don't..."

You swing.

Then, you collapse.

Rupert rushes over to you. His face is a mask of horror and sadness. "Kit... Oh God, lad. What the Hell were you thinkin'?"

"Just... Being a hero... One last... Time."

"I... I want to say help is coming, Kit. But Lilith ain't 'round no more."

Despite yourself, you let out a chuckle. It causes you more pain, and your words come out weaker. "Don't... Worry... Gonna be seeing her... And Henry... And Thomas... And... Grace... Soon."

Tears are streaming down Rupert's face. "You were always such a damned fool, lad."

"Heh... May... be..."

You let out your last breath.

In the coming days the guards are wiped out by the refugees. You become a martyr for their cause, drawing support from the townsfolk who worshiped you like one of the Gods. Soon, the rebellion takes over Sodran, allowing any and all who need shelter into the city.

This proves to be its downfall in the coming years.

The city can't handle the massive influx of people. Overpopulation becomes an issue. The homeless rate spikes, as there aren't enough jobs to go around. As such, crime rises as well, and soon the majority of the city is comprised of criminals.

Sodran's reputation shifts from a glorious beacon of light to a city of thieves. No one wants to go there anymore, for fear of their coin purse and their life. The merchant and trade caravans passing through the city disappear one by one until none are left, and the city's income goes with it.

With the rise of overpopulation, homelessness, and crime, it's no surprise that the rate of diseases the citizens catch increases as well. Eventually, damn near the whole city is infected with a dangerous plague for which there is no cure. The city is quarantined off by the King. When the last citizen dies, Sodran is razed, and no trace of its existence is left but rumors and closely kept records.

This matters not to a dead hero such as yourself. In death, you find peace. In death, you see them again. In death, you are happy.

Despite what most religions on your world would like people to believe, there are no pearly gates or fluffy clouds in the afterlife. There is no fire and brimstone. There's not even a blank void of nothingness. Instead, there is bliss, with fallen friends gathering around you to celebrate your reunion with them.

It's the ending that a hero deserves.

THE END


This late at night, there are no guards milling around outside the city. Your band of would-be freedom fighters ascend the stone steps up to the city gates, completely unnoticed. When you reach the gates, you see two guards ahead; one is watching a firefly intently as it floats around his face, while the other has fallen asleep while standing up.

You unsheathe your sword and rush forward, stabbing the firefly guard through the chest. He lets out a blood-tinged gasp of mingled shock and pain, before slumping over. You pull your sword out of his chest and swing at the sleeping guard, whose head rolls to the ground before he can even wake up. "Open the gates," you order the others, and they move to do so.

The sound of wood grinding against stone greets your ears as the gates are opened. After a moment, they're open enough for you to slip through. Looking around, you see that only a few people roam the city streets, most of them guards. You turn your head over your shoulder to address the group, "If I look like I'm in trouble, come help. Otherwise, stay back." With those words, you charge at the nearest guard with a swing.

You cut down a few guards before they even notice you're there. Once they do, however, shouting breaks the silence of the night as they alert each other to your presence. One grabs a whistle and blows it, the sharp sound tearing through the city streets. Whatever civilians are around quickly run away... And you notice a few refugees taking the opportunity to bolt as well.

Damn those cowards! You should have figured, though: they're just peasants without a lot in life. They're not willing to die for their freedom. Hell, you're not even sure why you're fighting their fight... But you aren't one to quit something when you've started.

You continue to fight. Of the two hundred refugees that were fit to fight, a grand total of twenty stuck with you, with Rupert among them. The rest fled deeper into the city or back to the camp. It doesn't matter; what does matter right now is getting to the Count's manor and taking it down.

You continue to fight through the streets for what seems like days, but in truth was only about an hour. You cut down any guards that attacked, and the others watched your flanks and defended you when any got past your defenses. It works well as a system, but all good things must come to an end. One by one, your allies drop to the guards.

By the time you reach the Count's manor, four of you remain: yourself, Rupert, and two men you learn are named Karl and Frank. You don't bother with subtlety when you reach the metal gate in front of the Count's manor. Raising your blade up high, you slam it down upon the lock keeping it closed once, twice, three times, before it splits wide open and opens the way.

The moon illuminates the manor, casting a shadow on your quartet. No guards are there to greet you, which is strange. Looking around the courtyard leading into the manor, you notice a collection of barrels. Curious, you approach them, and read the labels on them.

They read "gunpowder".

You find yourself grinning. This will help. "You three, grab a barrel and throw it inside." The others quickly move to help you, picking them up and heading to the door. You open it for them, finding it unlocked, and they begin to throw the barrels into the entrance hall.

Once most of the barrels are inside, you grab the last one and pull the cork off the top. You drain a line of gunpower out of it, leading from the door to where the barrels are placed. Then, you exit the manor and pull out your tinderbox. The flames burst forth, and the trail of gunpowder ignites, moving slowly to the barrels. You take the chance to run in the opposite direction.

A moment later, there is a loud explosion, and the manor is set ablaze. Still, you keep on guard. There weren't any guards around, which is strange. As you're comtemplating, Rupert, Karl, and Frank are celebrating. "Lighten up, lad! We blew up the Count and his damned manor! The city's free!"

"Not quite."

You look up to see a man consumed by flames, floating above you. He begins to drop down, and you instantly roll backwards. The man on fire lands on top of Frank, smashing through his head and completely obliterating it. Karl and Rupert back away in terror.

"I don't appreciate what you did to my home. Die." He raises a hand, and slings a fireball at Karl. The refugee is consumed by flames, screaming all the while. Desperately, he tries to pat them away, but it does no good. He falls to the ground and rolls around in pain, his screeches of sheer agony lasting until his lungs collapse from the fire. Even then he's still alive, if only for a moment longer.

The man on fire turns to you. "You. Die." He slings a fireball your way, but you manage to deflect it with the flat side of your sword. The fireball flies right back at him, and he recoils away from it for only a moment. Still, he laughs. "You think you can kill me with fire? Really?"

He snaps his fingers and the fire subsides. He's naked, athletically built with fair skin. His black hair is messy. Another snap, and now he's fully clothed with hair neatly combed. "Tell me this, peasants. Why did you feel the need to burn down my manor?"

This is the Count.

"Yer a bastard that's corruptin' this fair city with yer stench, that's why!" Rupert answers for you, which makes the Count laugh heartily.

"My, you're something. An old drunk picking a fight he can't possibly win. Amusing." Then, the Count sighs. "Oh well, I'm bored of you." A snap of his fingers, and then Rupert is sent flying into a nearby wall. You shout his name, but the Count turns on you. "... Hm. You look familiar."

"I'm the man who saved this city, you son of a bitch! And I'm gonna do it again!" you shout, readying your sword.

The Count laughs. "Hoho, Sir Kit! I should have known! Come to slay the big bad Count, have we?"

"You're not human! You're a... A monster!"

"Demon, to be specific." He gives you a smug smile.

This son of a bitch, correcting you like you're a simple-minded peasant. You find yourself grinding your teeth together. Unconsciously, your grip on your sword tightens. As you're doing this, your eyes catch Rupert's as he picks himself up. He's still alive, if only barely. You can see the question in his eyes...

He's asking you if you want him to help you out.
> Yes. You need all the help you can get.
You nod your head, indicating you'd appreciate his help. Rupert gulps slightly, indicating his hesitation, but nods back to you. Slowly, he gets up, approaching the Count with shortsword in hand. You keep the Count busy by attacking him ruthlessly, waiting for Rupert to attack.

After several grueling moments, Rupert reaches the count, aiming his sword for a backstab...

... But the Count turns around and blows Rupert away with a blast of telekinetic force! Your jaw drops at the sight as Rupert hits the wall hard, blood spurting out of his head. "RUPERT!" you call out. The Count turns back to you. His expression is smug.

A blood-curdling scream of rage flies out of your mouth as you swing relentlessly at the Count. You continue to wail on him, and despite his best efforts, he can't manage to make an attack against you. The only thing keeping him alive is his demonic nature. Any other man would have fallen to this onslaught by now.

You must've been hacking at him for about half an hour when you notice something peeking out of his chest. It's a black orb. His heart.

His heart is exposed. Maybe that's what you need to destroy to kill this monster. So, you continue to attack as you've been doing, and the Count continues trying to defend. Finally, you rear back, and stab his heart with a roar of anger.

The rotting organ explodes in a mess of black ooze when your sword pierces it. Falling to the ground, the Count stares at you in disbelief. Despite your furious attacks that he couldn't defend himself from, he must have figured you'd never be able to kill him.

"Wai-" You don't let him speak, instead slicing his head in half.

With that done, you rush over to Rupert. You expected him to have held out somehow. You could have saved him, or at the very least exchanged some parting words. Instead, you find that he's dead, and probably was not long after he hit that wall. His eyes are widen open. You reach down and close them for him.

You conquered the city. You don't care enough to inform the cowards that sent you on this mission. So, instead, you leave, and never return.

A week after your killing of the Count, you hear news from Sodran while drinking at a pub in a village with no name. The refugees rose up and wiped out the rest of the guards, declaring that the gates to the city were open... However, those who lived within the city were having none of it.

The refugees attempted to claim that you helped them to bolster support. After all, the townsfolk adored you for saving the city in the past. And while you did indeed help them, you didn't stay behind to prove it, and as such the townsfolk had no reason to believe the refugees. The refugees were driven out of the city or killed, and the people of Sodran elected a new count, as the former one had no heirs.

Needless to say, the uprising's victory was rendered moot not long after they took the city. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Well, can't say you didn't try. You finish your drink, pay the barkeep, then leave the bar.

THE END


It pains you to watch these people carry on like this. Just wandering, barely any food, scarce shelter, and no chance of ever entering the city they're so desperate to live in. This Count of Sodran guy. You've never heard of him, considering the last time you were here the title was still "mayor". It doesn't matter who he's supposed to be, because you know that he's not doing this city any good.

You walk away from the guard and head to the nearest refugee. "Do you have a leader I can speak to?"

He looks up at you, a dejected expression on his face, and gives a weary sigh. He points to a tent that's larger than the rest. "Hugo, the old man in there, is sort of our leader. He gets us jobs in the area and makes sure everyone is well fed."

You nod. "Thanks for the info." With those words, you head to the tent, intent on pitching your idea to the leader. Opening the tent's flaps and stepping inside, you see that it's decorated scarcely. There's some small bedding in the corner, next to a chair and a small bookshelf. An old man with weathered features and a bushy beard sits in the chair reading a book.

You give a cough to break the silence, and he looks up, smiling at you. "Oh, hello there. New to our fair camp?" His voice carries a thick Kishak accent. Guess you know where he's from now.

"No. I came to speak to you about Sodran, and the Count."

"What about it, stranger?"

"Have you ever thought about how many people you have here? It's at least a legion's worth, damn near a thousand from the looks of it. If you banded together... You could take the city."

Hugo looks a bit shocked by your proposal, but not disapproving of the idea. "... Maybe we could, stranger. But what business do you have with us, or Sodran, or the Count?"

"None at all. I'm just a traveler with too much time on his hands."

Hugo mulls your words over. He stares at you, as if trying to assess your reasons for approaching him with this proposition. Finally, he shrugs, and nods at you. "Very well then. I'll organize the refugees... Did you come here just to plant the idea in my head, or do you want to participate in this... Uprising?"
> You no, you don't think you will. The idea was to give them the push they needed, not participate.
You shake your head. "All I wished to do was push you in the direction of uprising. Now that you're planning on it, my work here is done." Without another word, you exit the tent, leaving Hugo slightly baffled by your bluntness. Taking a look around the camp one last time, you depart, heading off down the road.

A few weeks later you're drinking at a pub in a town with no name. A man rushes in, and brings you all news of an attempted uprising in Sodran. It fell apart rapidly due to a lack of discipline within the troops; for every soldier they killed, they lost ten of their own. What should have reached the Count's manor instead ended two blocks from the city's entrance.

There were no surviving refugees.

The news makes you shrug. No skin off your back. It was their own faults for rushing in without a plan. You finish your drink and order another. When the second one's done, you pay the barkeep, and head out the door. Tomorrow you should be nearing the Kishak border. It should be nice this time of year.

You walk off into the sunset.

THE END


You pass the inn by, instead opting to continue on into the night on the road. Carrying onward for miles, you eventually lay down on the side of the road to sleep for the night. A few hours later you awaken to the morning light, and continue onwards, north to Sodran.

You've been there before, almost a lifetime ago. Back in your day the place was like a sapling surrounded by soot; attempting to grow, but suppressed by its surroundings. The metaphorical soot to the city's metaphorical sapling was the evil wizard you faced down. Try as you might, you could never forget the expressions on the faces of the downtrodden. They looked like they had nothing to live for.

You suppose you know know how it feels now.

By midday, the city is within sight after passing a few dozen villages or so. Great walls surround it, and tall buildings poke out from behind the walls. Stone steps lead up to a massive stone archway, which itself leads into the city proper. There's a statue at the base of the steps, the details of which you can't make out, but it looks like it's in decent condition from this far away. It's a magnificent sight, to be sure.

Once you're within a half mile of the city not an hour later, you finally notice something you couldn't spot from further away: a large camp encompasses the city. Strange. A quarter mile away you can make out shambling figures stumbling around the camp. Once you get close, not ten yards away, you can make out exactly what's happening.

The shambling figures all look to be malnourished and dressed in glorified rags. The adults sit around the camp looking defeated, a small number praying to whatever God they worship. A few children run around kicking a ball, but their expressions tell you that they've experienced too much. What the hell is going on here?

You go and speak to a guard watching them all, and ask him who these people are. His reply is to let out a dry chuckle. "What, haven't been to this city in a while? These are the unfortunate bastards who were denied access to our fair city. Refugees and the like from the war with Kishak. Mostly natives to our kingdom, couple of Kishak bastards here and there."

"Is there any reason the Count of this city has it closed off?" you ask. His response is to laugh again.

"There's an entry fee, two hundred gold coins. They," he gestures to the camp, "couldn't cover it. Poor bastards, left to rot out here."

What the hell? They couldn't pay some fee, so now they're locked from entering the city? At the very least you can pay it, but you suppose the question remains if you can just walk on by these people.
> You yeah you can. You'll continue onwards.
You nod to the guard, gritting your teeth slightly. "Good thing I have enough gold then." He lets out another bark of laughter, then waves you on, not bothering to reply. Likewise, you continue on without another word, closer to the stone steps of the city.

Approaching the stone steps, you can finally make out the statue you had seen earlier. To your surprise, the statue depicts you. While you never wore the shining armor they present you in, and the sword is far to small to be your own, the facial features are too similar for it to be anyone else. Looking it over, you see that it's covered in bird dung, and there are many chips and cracks in the marble.

You clutch your hand tightly. Of course, the statue couldn't have depicted anyone else. Couldn't have been the king, couldn't have been the count, couldn't have even been some sort of God. It had to be you. Taking in a breath and releasing the death grip you have on your palm, you push on past the statue and up to the steps. A guard stands there gripping a spear. Behind him is a large oak door, leading into the city proper.

He blinks at you and lets out a mix between a yawn and a sigh, before speaking, "Two hundred gold for entrance into the city, sir."

You pull out your bag and rifle through it, before handing him four pieces of gold, each worth fifty. He counts them out, even chews on one to ensure its authenticity, before nodding. "Very good, sir. Welcome to Sodran." He pushes the doors open, and lets you through.

Stepping into the city, you find that it's grown substantially since your last visit to it. Large buildings rise high into the sky, faded signs declaring what they're all for. People bustle through the streets, going about their own business, while merchants hawk their wares. Guards stand at every corner, keeping a watchful eye on the citizens. Shady looking people hang around alleyway entrances; unconsciously, you keep a tighter grip on your coin purse.

So much to do, so little time. But I suppose the question I should be asking is if you wish to do something about the state of the city, or if you're just here to explore.
> You you're heading right for the Count's manor. You're going to do something for those refugees.
You might not have tried getting the refugees to rise up, but you can fight this battle without having to put innocent lives at risk. This Count of Sodran guy. You've never heard of him, considering the last time you were here the title was still "mayor". It doesn't matter who he's supposed to be, because you know that he's not doing this city any good.

Dipping through the crowds of people, you climb a set of stone stairs up to what appears to be a park overlooking the entire city. Hugging the north wall in the distance is a manor, taking up damn near an entire block and looming over the city streets. That's got to be the Count's manor. Nodding to yourself, you begin to make your way to it.

Along the way, you spy a few guards cornering a man in butcher's clothes. The butcher is an older man, with thinning hair and a physique reminiscent of a skeleton. Sweat drips down his brow, and he gives the guards an uneasy look. "I-I swear, I'll pay the Count! I just need another week! Please, this shop's all I got left!"

One of the guards gives him a nasty grin. "Well ya shoulda thought 'bout that 'fore ya gotta loan. The Count don't take too kindly to old weasels who don't cough up what they owe." He brings his fist up to the butcher's gut, causing the older man to fall to his knees. Then, the guard backhands him to the floor. "Ya got till the end of the day to get that money." With those words, the guards walk away.

It takes all your willpower to not fly into a frenzy and attack them. Instead, you wait until they've moved on, then approach the butcher who's regaining his footing after the attack. "How much?" you ask.

"What?" the butcher replies, looking at you suspiciously.

"How much do you owe?"

"Five hundred. I needed a loan of one hundred to pay for my daughter's medicine... But she died even with it." The butcher pauses to wipe away a tear threatening to escape his eye. "... I try to pay the Count back, but he keeps raising the price, further and further... I can't keep up. At this rate, I'll lose my business."

"Sorry to hear about that." You pull out your coin purse, then throw him a handful of gold coins worth one hundred gold each. "Take these. Gather everyone you care about and leave. You don't want to be around for what I'm going to do."

The butcher looks frightened by that, but nods, accepting the money gladly and quickly rushing off. You watch him go, then release a sigh through gritted teeth. When you came here, you were hoping to be able to resolve this issue using diplomacy. It was never your strong suit, but your fame, much as you hate it, would be useful in this situation.

Now, though? You're going to kill this Count, or die trying.

It's an hour and several similar incidents later that you finally arive at the gates of the Count's manor. A few guards mill about the front, and you draw their attention by pounding against the steel gate. One of them approaches, staring at you with a nasty grin. It's the one from earlier, with the butcher. "Well? Whaddya want?" he asks.

"I'm here to see the Count," you reply.

"Really? The Count don't let no middle-aged bums in to see 'im. Get lost!" He spits in your face.

You keep your rage contained, gritting your teeth and giving him a toothy smile. His grin falters. "Tell him that it's Lord Kit of Droburg. You know. The guy on that statue outside."

He gives a nervous chuckle. "O-oh, you're Lord Kit, eh? How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because if you don't let me in, I'll cleave you in half."

Between your expression, the threat, and the fact that you haven't even bothered to wipe off the saliva that's starting to drip down your cheek, the guard is thoroughly terrified. "R-right, apologies Lord Kit, I'll let you in..." He opens the gate slowly. The creak of metal against stone splits through your ears. Your hand itches, begging for you to unsheathe your sword.

You do.

You reach up and grab your blade off your back as soon as the gate is open wide enough for you to walk through. With a swing, you slice through the guard's waist, the force sending his torso flying high into the air as he lets out an ungodly scream. His torso meets the floor with a meaty thud. He's still alive for only a few moments, gasping for air as blood leaks out of his mouth. Then, he lets out his last breath.

The other guards are quick to notice their fallen comrade. None of them carry ranged weaponry, just swords, axes, and batons. They all begin to run at you, weapons raised. Judging by your quick assessment of the odds, it's fourteen to one. Despite yourself, you can feel the sadistic grin on your face widen.

This will be too easy.

A primal yell bursts out of your throat, and you rush forward to meet the guards head on. It's easy enough to deflect a few blows, and with each swing you bring at least two men out of the fight. It doesn't last long, and within minutes, the manor's courtyard is covered in blood, guts, and corpses.

You enter the manor, sparing but a glance to the carnage you left behind.
> You continue
You fight your way through the manor to the great hall, where you expect the Count will be. When you reach it, however, you find it empty. The Count must be elsewhere. So, you continue to hack and slash your way through, checking every room in an attempt to find the bastard.

It's only after a dozen men have died and you yourself have suffered several wounds that you find him. He's sitting calmly in his study, reading a book, perhaps unaware of the fighting that had been going on outside. You readjust your grip on your sword, then bark, "Hey!"

He looks up, sighs, then slips a ribbon into the book on the page he was on. Shutting it and placing it down on a table, the Count stands, and gives you a small smile. "My apologies. I got so absorbed with my reading, I must not have heard you." He stands a good few inches below you, dressed in fine silk clothing with various pieces of jewelry adorning his body. Truly, he's a pompous asshole.

You stare at him in disbelief. "Deaf and corrupt, huh?"

He frowns. "Whatever do you mean?"

You grit your teeth so hard you feel like they might crack. "You've been running this city into the ground long enough. I didn't save this Goddamn world so its rulers could become just as bad as the man I saved it from." You raise your sword, point it at him. "I'm going to cut you down."

The Count looks confused for a moment, and he studies your face. Then, it clicks, and he sighs. "Lord Kit, is it? I see. So you've finally decided to come out of retirement. I knew this day would come." He turns his back on you and approaches his bookshelf. Picking one out, he turns it over in his hands, then shows it to you. The cover is faded, but the words clear as day.

It reads "Sir Kit Against Alistair".

"This was one of my favorite books, y'know. You seemed so pure, so flawless." He flips through it a bit. "But it's clear that reality is far from the truth. How much blood have you shed today?"

"I cut down dozens of your guards to reach you."

"Ah. It would seem you live up to the tales in that regard then." He turns the book over more, before placing it back. "Let's test another aspect of those tales. It was said that Alistair tried to tempt you with unlimited power, but you turned it down. Was that true?"

You snort. "Of course not. As soon as Grace and I entered that throne room of his, we were fighting for our lives. No time for words."

"So it would seem. But if he did offer you that power, would you have accepted?"

You're not sure how to respond.

The Count smiles. "I'll make you an offer. I'm very talented in... Certain aspects of magic. You miss your friends, no?" He snaps his fingers, and a portal is opened to you. What's inside you can hardly believe.

Your friends. All of them. Henry, strumming his lute. Thomas, sharpening his daggers. Lilith, reading holy scriptures... And Grace, sitting there and playing with fire as she always did.

You reach out to them, let out a yell of pure shock and happiness despite yourself. A mixture of awe and sheer joy making its way onto your face. It's them! They're alive! By the Gods, they're alive, like they should be!

Then, the portal closes. You shift back towards the Count, having forgotten he was even there. He gives you an enigmatic smile. "It seems that seeing your companions again got a reaction. I can take you to them again. You can relive your quest, make things right."

Your voice is shaky as you reply, "You're... You're not planning anything? I can fix things... Right?"

"That you can. But only if you spare me."
> You accept in a heartbeat. You need to bring them back!
In an instant you reply, "Yes! Yes! For the love of the Gods, let me make things right! Please!"

His smile widens. "I was hoping you'd say that." The portal is summoned again... Only this time, your friends on the other side notice it, too. They approach it, staring in awe.

"What in the world...?" Henry asks, staring through. He spots you, and points. "Woah, guys, doesn't that look like Kit?"

Thomas lets out a derisive snort. "Can't be. Too old. Then again, we just saw a crazy ass portal open up before our eyes, so it could be."

Lilith places a hand on her heart and takes in a few deep breaths. Then, she speaks, "I think... This might be a portal to the future. I wonder...?"

Grace is staring at you. Those big, brown eyes staring into your own grey ones. Searching for something. Whatever it is, it seems she's found it.

She reaches for you. You approach her, taking her hand. Her other hand reaches up to touch your face.

"You look tired, Kit," she says, and you let out a laugh, because you know it's true.

"I sure as shit am."

The portal closes behind you as you step through it fully.

Then, everything is fire.

One by one they fade away. Your eyes widen in shock. What the hell? You look down, and find that your clothes are igniting, your flesh is slowly peeling and melting off the skin.

You do the logical thing and scream in sheer agony.

You scream until all the air has left your lungs, and even then, you're trying to with all your might. It is only after your lungs and larynx have been fried to a crisp that you can't even attempt to scream. There is only fire, faint voices, and silhouettes you can't even see.

There's laughter in the distance. Then, a booming voice all around you.

"Welcome to Hell, hero."

THE END


You fight your way through the manor to the great hall, where you expect the Count will be. When you reach it, however, you find it empty. The Count must be elsewhere. So, you continue to hack and slash your way through, checking every room in an attempt to find the bastard.

It's only after a dozen men have died and you yourself have suffered several wounds that you find him. He's sitting calmly in his study, reading a book, perhaps unaware of the fighting that had been going on outside. You readjust your grip on your sword, then bark, "Hey!"

He looks up, sighs, then slips a ribbon into the book on the page he was on. Shutting it and placing it down on a table, the Count stands, and gives you a small smile. "My apologies. I got so absorbed with my reading, I must not have heard you." He stands a good few inches below you, dressed in fine silk clothing with various pieces of jewelry adorning his body. Truly, he's a pompous asshole.

You stare at him in disbelief. "Deaf and corrupt, huh?"

He frowns. "Whatever do you mean?"

You grit your teeth so hard you feel like they might crack. "You've been running this city into the ground long enough. I didn't save this Goddamn world so its rulers could become just as bad as the man I saved it from." You raise your sword, point it at him. "I'm going to cut you down."

The Count looks confused for a moment, and he studies your face. Then, it clicks, and he sighs. "Lord Kit, is it? I see. So you've finally decided to come out of retirement. I knew this day would come." He turns his back on you and approaches his bookshelf. Picking one out, he turns it over in his hands, then shows it to you. The cover is faded, but the words clear as day.

It reads "Sir Kit Against Alistair".

"This was one of my favorite books, y'know. You seemed so pure, so flawless." He flips through it a bit. "But it's clear that reality is far from the truth. How much blood have you shed today?"

"I cut down dozens of your guards to reach you."

"Ah. It would seem you live up to the tales in that regard then." He turns the book over more, before placing it back. "Let's test another aspect of those tales. It was said that Alistair tried to tempt you with unlimited power, but you turned it down. Was that true?"

You snort. "Of course not. As soon as Grace and I entered that throne room of his, we were fighting for our lives. No time for words."

"So it would seem. But if he did offer you that power, would you have accepted?"

You're not sure how to respond.

The Count smiles. "I'll make you an offer. I'm very talented in... Certain aspects of magic. You miss your friends, no?" He snaps his fingers, and a portal is opened to you. What's inside you can hardly believe.

Your friends. All of them. Henry, strumming his lute. Thomas, sharpening his daggers. Lilith, reading holy scriptures... And Grace, sitting there and playing with fire as she always did.

You reach out to them, let out a yell of pure shock and happiness despite yourself. A mixture of awe and sheer joy making its way onto your face. It's them! They're alive! By the Gods, they're alive, like they should be!

Then, the portal closes. You shift back towards the Count, having forgotten he was even there. He gives you an enigmatic smile. "It seems that seeing your companions again got a reaction. I can take you to them again. You can relive your quest, make things right."

Your voice is shaky as you reply, "You're... You're not planning anything? I can fix things... Right?"

"That you can. But only if you spare me."
> You ... No. The Count is playing a trick on you. You won't let him.
You look longingly at the portal for a moment. It's tempting, oh so tempting, but you know that whatever lies beyond it is a farce. The Count is trying to trick you, offering you something he knows you would want, but you won't take the bait.

You give your companions a stony face. "You're not real." Then, you turn to the Count, and swing at his head.

The sword cleaves through his dandy face, completely knocking off the top half. He stands stone still for a minute, as if his corpse is denying his death, before falling to the ground. The portal closes, and with it, the image of your friends.

Sighing, you place your sword back onto its sheath, and exit the room.

Before you stands the Count, alive and unharmed. He smiles, but instead of a small and enigmatic smirk, it's a large and goofy grin.

"Well done. You resisted my temptation. Not many have ever done that." He walks around you, examining you, while you stand there still reeling from the shock. "I wonder. How did you know that wasn't real?"

After taking a moment, you respond, "You're too much of a bastard to give me what I really wanted. It was a test. One I passed, apparently."

"Yes, yes it was, Kit. I'm impressed that you sussed that out, really. I suppose you're going to want to kill me again?"

Without another word you unsheathe your sword again and swing. He's cut in half this time. Then, the Count approaches from behind. "It's pointless, Kit. A mere mortal like you? You can't kill me. Just hear me out."

"What!?" you bark out.

The Count laughs. "I have a final offer. No tricks this time. I will give you a way out of this country. A key to a nice home on the Cikoni shoreline. The place will be stocked with food, alcohol, water, whatever you need once a week. Other than that? There will be no one who knows you're there."

You frown. "And in exchange?"

"In exchange, you leave Sodran and this Kingdom. Don't even return. You've been enough of a thorn in my side today."

This offer is much more down to earth and, therefore, more believable. Still, you're wary of any tricks.
> You he admitted he was trying to trick you with his earlier offer. No more. You'll strike him down until finally, you kill him for good.
You answer his offer with another swing of your blade. This time, he simply forgoes his reappearance act and rises up again. He uses his hands to put his head back in place, and soon, the flesh has knitted back together and he's back to himself. The Count gives a tsk; lets out a sigh. "I hoped you would accept. I was being earnest, you know. Not many get that honor from me."

"I don't believe you. You're inhuman... A monster. What the hell are you?"

His small enigmatic smile returns to his face. "The answer lies in your question. What the hell am I? I come from Hell."

"... You're a demon."

He lets out a small chuckle. "Exactly. And I hope you know, you'll never kill me."

You go back to gritting your teeth in rage. This time, your grind them together so hard a piece of one of your incisors chips off. "I've killed enough men to know that all you need to do..." You swing, chopping his legs off. "IS KEEP SWINGING!"

You chop his corpse to bits. He comes back from behind you. You keep hacking. He keeps coming back. You keep slashing. He rises again with a laugh. You keep stabbing. He continues to laugh. You keep chopping. He rises without a scratch. Eventually you start bashing him with the flat of your blade. It doesn't keep him down.

But through the constant fierce attacks, you see that pieces of his chest have fallen off to reveal a glowing black heart. That's your ticket. You move your eyes from it before he notices. Right now, the Count is too busy chuckling madly to do anything.

"Alright... Alright, I think you've had your fun." He smiles. "This is the end, Kit."

He snaps his fingers. Flames burst from beneath you. Acting quickly, you roll away from them, and watch as they begin to consume the floor and walls of the hallway you're in. Your cloak is on fire, but you pat it away, and focus on your target.

He's standing there. Smiling that damned smile.

You can't wait to wipe that smirk off his face.

Deep within you, a scream builds up and lets loose. You dash at him, acting as though you're going for a swing. He opens his arms wide, awaiting the fruitless swing...

Then, you bring the sword back and ram it into his heart.

Unlike your other attacks, this gets him to look shocked. Black ooze slowly drips from his lips. You kick him away, and he lies on the ground, staring at you in awe.

"H-how?" he chokes out.

You don't give him a response. Instead, you pull the lantern oil from your pack and dump it all on him. He whimpers something, probably a plea for his life. You ignore him. Pulling your lantern from your hip, you ignite it...

Then smash it onto him.

The flames begin to consume him. He lets out a gurgling screech of agony. You grin at that scream. The rest of the fire rushes to meet him.

You step past his flailing, burning body, and descend to the entrance of the manor. You see that the fire is spreading quickly, burning through the wooden building rapidly. His screams have long since died down.

Outside there are guards waiting for you, staring in terror at your blood-stained body. You raise your sword, but instead, they step aside. The expressions on their faces range from terrified to relieved.

You leave the manor courtyard and disappear into the panicking mass of people in the streets. The guards stare at you in shock. They know that you did it, they know that they should apprehend you, know that you should be hung for your crimes. Still, they don't move out of fear of what you'll do to them.

You leave the city and never return.

THE END


You look longingly at the portal for a moment. It's tempting, oh so tempting, but you know that whatever lies beyond it is a farce. The Count is trying to trick you, offering you something he knows you would want, but you won't take the bait.

You give your companions a stony face. "You're not real." Then, you turn to the Count, and swing at his head.

The sword cleaves through his dandy face, completely knocking off the top half. He stands stone still for a minute, as if his corpse is denying his death, before falling to the ground. The portal closes, and with it, the image of your friends.

Sighing, you place your sword back onto its sheath, and exit the room.

Before you stands the Count, alive and unharmed. He smiles, but instead of a small and enigmatic smirk, it's a large and goofy grin.

"Well done. You resisted my temptation. Not many have ever done that." He walks around you, examining you, while you stand there still reeling from the shock. "I wonder. How did you know that wasn't real?"

After taking a moment, you respond, "You're too much of a bastard to give me what I really wanted. It was a test. One I passed, apparently."

"Yes, yes it was, Kit. I'm impressed that you sussed that out, really. I suppose you're going to want to kill me again?"

Without another word you unsheathe your sword again and swing. He's cut in half this time. Then, the Count approaches from behind. "It's pointless, Kit. A mere mortal like you? You can't kill me. Just hear me out."

"What!?" you bark out.

The Count laughs. "I have a final offer. No tricks this time. I will give you a way out of this country. A key to a nice home on the Cikoni shoreline. The place will be stocked with food, alcohol, water, whatever you need once a week. Other than that? There will be no one who knows you're there."

You frown. "And in exchange?"

"In exchange, you leave Sodran and this Kingdom. Don't even return. You've been enough of a thorn in my side today."

This offer is much more down to earth and, therefore, more believable. Still, you're wary of any tricks.
> You you'll take his offer. You just need to get out of this place.
You have nothing to lose but your life. Maybe you do need to leave this place behind. You don't even know why you're doing this. Some futile attempt to be a hero one last time? Or maybe you're just trying to sate your bloodlust.

Whatever it is, you're tired of fighting. You just want to hide away until the end of your days. Maybe, this offer is what you need. Maybe...

You nod your head. "I accept your offer. I'll leave, and never return."

The Count smiles. "Good. Here." He snaps his fingers, and a key materializes from thin air. "The key to the property." Another snap of his fingers, and a portal opens, revealing a pathway to a nice cabin. "Step through. No tricks this time."

Warily, you accept the key, and step through the portal. Your feet meet sand, and the portal closes behind you as soon as you're all the way through. You stand there a moment, waiting for some sort of attack, or for the scenery to shift into something nightmarish...

... But it never comes.

After a while, you head towards the cabin and unlock it. Stepping inside, you see that it's nicely decorated with rustic furniture and paintings adorning the walls. You head into the kitchen and find that it's stocked with bread and wine, and that's all you really need.

You stay there for days awaiting a painful shift in scenery. Those days turn to weeks, then months, then years, then decades. Nothing happens. Guilt eats you away a bit, you were so close to toppling a tyrannical government, only to back off and accept a bribe. Still, you have to say, it's certainly nice out here.

Years later you finally pass away quietly in your sleep. It's the best a "hero" like you could hope for.

THE END


You nod to the guard, gritting your teeth slightly. "Good thing I have enough gold then." He lets out another bark of laughter, then waves you on, not bothering to reply. Likewise, you continue on without another word, closer to the stone steps of the city.

Approaching the stone steps, you can finally make out the statue you had seen earlier. To your surprise, the statue depicts you. While you never wore the shining armor they present you in, and the sword is far to small to be your own, the facial features are too similar for it to be anyone else. Looking it over, you see that it's covered in bird dung, and there are many chips and cracks in the marble.

You clutch your hand tightly. Of course, the statue couldn't have depicted anyone else. Couldn't have been the king, couldn't have been the count, couldn't have even been some sort of God. It had to be you. Taking in a breath and releasing the death grip you have on your palm, you push on past the statue and up to the steps. A guard stands there gripping a spear. Behind him is a large oak door, leading into the city proper.

He blinks at you and lets out a mix between a yawn and a sigh, before speaking, "Two hundred gold for entrance into the city, sir."

You pull out your bag and rifle through it, before handing him four pieces of gold, each worth fifty. He counts them out, even chews on one to ensure its authenticity, before nodding. "Very good, sir. Welcome to Sodran." He pushes the doors open, and lets you through.

Stepping into the city, you find that it's grown substantially since your last visit to it. Large buildings rise high into the sky, faded signs declaring what they're all for. People bustle through the streets, going about their own business, while merchants hawk their wares. Guards stand at every corner, keeping a watchful eye on the citizens. Shady looking people hang around alleyway entrances; unconsciously, you keep a tighter grip on your coin purse.

So much to do, so little time. But I suppose the question I should be asking is if you wish to do something about the state of the city, or if you're just here to explore.
> The Count doesn't matter. You came here to get away from fighting, not to get involved in more of it. You'll look around.
You decide not to interfere with the Count, instead opting to explore Sodran. It's been a while since you've been here. Briefly, you wonder how much has changed; obviously it's grown a lot, but are any of the old stores still open? You recall a store run by an older man, which sold the best wine you ever tasted. Is he still alive, or did his son take over the store like he wanted?

Shaking your head, you reason that you'll just have to find out, and begin to explore. Most of your knowledge of the city hasn't aged well, since more buildings have sprung up and some roads you used to know are gone now. Still, your knowledge holds true when you find the old store you knew. The sign reading "Louie's Supplies" is faded and the wooden door is cracked, but it's still the same place.

Stepping through, you find a bored looking young man standing behind the counter. Looks like you were right about his son taking over. He perks up as soon as he sees you, and smiles. "Ah, a customer! It's been a while since one came through." He studies your face for a moment. "... You look familiar, traveler. Do I know you?"

You grunt. "Probably not. I have one of those faces."

He shakes his head. "No, no, I do know you... You helped my father deal with thugs that were harassing him. Twenty years ago..." Then, he gasps, as if finally realizing who you are. "You're Sir Kit the Brave! The man who slayed the vile wizard Alistair!"

Despite yourself, you face twists into a scowl. "Don't go screaming it from the rooftops."

His own smile drops. "Oh. Apologies, Sir Kit."

"Yeah... Look, I did know your father, and I did help him out, but I just came here to see if the place was still around. Glad it is..." You can't help yourself, and soon ask, "Is your father still alive?"

"No, sir. He died five years ago, when I was nineteen. I inherited the store. Didn't wanna see it run into the ground, but..."

You're gonna hate yourself for asking this. "But?"

"... I don't want to run this store. I want to go out into the world, go on an adventure, like you did. When you came and helped my father with those thugs... I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a hero."

That makes you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Great, now you've got a fanboy telling you he wants to be a "hero", like you were.
> You discourage him. Being a hero's not all it's cracked up to be.
You take a moment to think about what you want to say. After a moment, you begin to speak, "Look, kid. Adventuring isn't all that fun. It can be brutal. I had to cut down my fair share of men when I was younger, and while I can live with it, not everyone can. Just keep the store running, like your father would've wanted."

The shopkeeper's face falls. He lets out a sigh, but nods. "... Right. I should probably keep doing that. Settle down, find a wife, too. It's just that ever since I took over the store, no one's coming here anymore. I guess I just don't manage it as well."

"What do you mean? Is there any competition or something?"

He nods. "There's another store across town that opened before my father died. People went there, but they came here more often, because they trusted my father. Now that I've taken over, people don't shop here as much, if at all in a few cases. They don't know me as well as they did my father, so I might as well be another stranger to them... If people come here these days, it's because they want to save time rather than walk across town."

You ponder for a moment. Maybe you could get people to start heading to this store more often? You have your fame to use to your advantage, maybe if you recommend it, more people will come. Alternatively, you can just ignore the boy and leave. You've spent too much time in this town already.
> You you'll give the store your commendation. That will get people to shop here.
After a moment of mulling it over, wondering if you should bring this much attention to yourself, you come to this decision. "I could help you out. We can use my fame to get people to come here. Everyone loves me, for whatever reason, so if I gave your store my commendation they'd shop here."

The shopkeeper's face lightens up immediately. "Y-you'd really do that for me? You're serious?"

"Sure. It'd help you out. I didn't go through those thugs just so this place would have to close down."

To your surprise, the shopkeeper jumps up and hugs you from across the counter. You awkwardly pat his shoulder, as he blubbers into your own. "Oh by the Gods, thank you, thank you so much! I don't know how I can ever repay you!"

"You'll repay me enough by keeping this place open... And giving me as much of that Cikoni wine as I can carry."

The shopkeeper pulls away from you with a small smile. He wipes the tears away from his eyes... Then pauses. Chuckling nervously, he asks, "Uh... Do you mean the Cikonus Vineyard Wine?"

You frown. "Yeah. What about it?"

"We uh... Lost contact with the makers of that wine, about ten years back. We don't sell it anymore."

You grumble. "... Perfect. Just perfect."

Not long after, you leave the shop and look around outside. You told the kid to stay inside, because you'd get the customers in there. As you search the marketplace, you find that there's a large chunk of townsfolk milling about. Some are in a hurry, others taking their time checking each shop out.

Raising your voice, you begin to shout, "My name is Sir Kit of Droburg, and Louie's Supplies is my favorite store in Sodran!" This piques the interest of a few shoppers, who turn in your direction. A few look in awe that you're there. Others look disbelieving and carry on. Still, you got some attention.

A young girl approaches you, looking at you with wide eyes. "Wow! Are you the guy who killed the evil wizard Al-a-star?" She pronounces his name wrong, but you smile at her and nod.

"Yes, I did! I saved this city, and this store right here, too!"

More people begin to flock over. A few actually head inside, but most just ask you questions or request some stories of your exploits. You don't want to answer them all, but an idea sparks in your head... "Tell you what, folks! If you buy one item from this store, I'll gladly tell you any story you want!"

That really gets people heading into the store.

People start swarming in and out, buying everything from little knick knacks to their groceries. You answer a few lighthearted questions about yourself and what you've been up to, the occasional serious one involving your friends. The former is asked by young kids and the like, while the latter is older folks who know the true details of your journey beyond the bastardized fictionialized versions.

Eventually, a young boy tugs at your shirt. You look down, and he smiles wide, his two front teeth missing. He shows you a small box of chocolates he just purchased from the store. "Look, I bought some chocolates! Can you tell us about your adventure, Mr. Kit? The whole adventure, not just parts of it!"

You were waiting for that. To be honest, you're not sure how to respond. It takes you a moment, before you decide that no, you won't tell this story.

You're about to give the boy your answer, but you stare into his wide and hopeful eyes. Despite yourself, you can't find it in yourself to decline him. "... Alright. But it's a long one. I might not be able to get to all of it."

"That's fine! I just wanna hear what really happened!"

A small smile makes its way onto your face despite yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you begin to reminisce about those days. Where to start? You suppose, at the very beginning.

"Listen closely, because I won't repeat myself. A long time ago, I lived in a village called Droburg. It was there that I lived with my best friends, Henry, Thomas, Lilith, and... Grace. One day, news came through that an evil wizard was attacking the Kingdom! We knew that this was what we had been waiting for. So, the very next day, we set out to slay the vile wizard. And that, is where our story begins..."

THE END


You take a moment to think about what you want to say. After a moment, you begin to speak, "Look, kid. Adventuring isn't all that fun. It can be brutal. I had to cut down my fair share of men when I was younger, and while I can live with it, not everyone can. Just keep the store running, like your father would've wanted."

The shopkeeper's face falls. He lets out a sigh, but nods. "... Right. I should probably keep doing that. Settle down, find a wife, too. It's just that ever since I took over the store, no one's coming here anymore. I guess I just don't manage it as well."

"What do you mean? Is there any competition or something?"

He nods. "There's another store across town that opened before my father died. People went there, but they came here more often, because they trusted my father. Now that I've taken over, people don't shop here as much, if at all in a few cases. They don't know me as well as they did my father, so I might as well be another stranger to them... If people come here these days, it's because they want to save time rather than walk across town."

You ponder for a moment. Maybe you could get people to start heading to this store more often? You have your fame to use to your advantage, maybe if you recommend it, more people will come. Alternatively, you can just ignore the boy and leave. You've spent too much time in this town already.
> You no, you should just leave now. He can figure this out on his own.
With a shrug and a shake of your head, you reply, "Wish I could help you out, son. I really do. But I've got to get moving on. I've stayed in this city too long already."

He gives you a smile and nods. "Right, right... Sorry that I held you up with all my rambling and complaining. I'll try and sort things out myself. It was nice seeing you again, Sir Kit."

"Yeah, sure was." You turn around and head out the door. For the rest of the day, you mill about Sodran for a while, visiting other places you and your friends visited. A few of the shops have closed down, some of them are under new management. The remainder that haven't changed as much are surprised and pleased to see you.

At the end of the day, you head to an inn near the entrance to the city and sleep. When you awake in the morning, you pack up your things and leave the city behind. Weeks pass as you get further and further away from your former home, then reach a port town by the sea. You pick up transit on a supply ship headed to Cikoni. A few months later, you arrive in the country.

You wander there for a while, unsure what to do. Eventually, you find a small coastal town with few people. There, you take residence in an abandoned shack. To make ends meet, you get a job at a farm, tending to exotic crops you've never seen before. It's strange, but eventually, you think you've got the hang of it.

It's a good life. All in all, better than anything a guy like you could've hoped for.

THE END


You decide not to interfere with the Count, instead opting to explore Sodran. It's been a while since you've been here. Briefly, you wonder how much has changed; obviously it's grown a lot, but are any of the old stores still open? You recall a store run by an older man, which sold the best wine you ever tasted. Is he still alive, or did his son take over the store like he wanted?

Shaking your head, you reason that you'll just have to find out, and begin to explore. Most of your knowledge of the city hasn't aged well, since more buildings have sprung up and some roads you used to know are gone now. Still, your knowledge holds true when you find the old store you knew. The sign reading "Louie's Supplies" is faded and the wooden door is cracked, but it's still the same place.

Stepping through, you find a bored looking young man standing behind the counter. Looks like you were right about his son taking over. He perks up as soon as he sees you, and smiles. "Ah, a customer! It's been a while since one came through." He studies your face for a moment. "... You look familiar, traveler. Do I know you?"

You grunt. "Probably not. I have one of those faces."

He shakes his head. "No, no, I do know you... You helped my father deal with thugs that were harassing him. Twenty years ago..." Then, he gasps, as if finally realizing who you are. "You're Sir Kit the Brave! The man who slayed the vile wizard Alistair!"

Despite yourself, you face twists into a scowl. "Don't go screaming it from the rooftops."

His own smile drops. "Oh. Apologies, Sir Kit."

"Yeah... Look, I did know your father, and I did help him out, but I just came here to see if the place was still around. Glad it is..." You can't help yourself, and soon ask, "Is your father still alive?"

"No, sir. He died five years ago, when I was nineteen. I inherited the store. Didn't wanna see it run into the ground, but..."

You're gonna hate yourself for asking this. "But?"

"... I don't want to run this store. I want to go out into the world, go on an adventure, like you did. When you came and helped my father with those thugs... I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a hero."

That makes you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Great, now you've got a fanboy telling you he wants to be a "hero", like you were.
> You encourage him. He should chase his dream, get out and see the world.
After a moment of thinking the kid's words over, you look him dead in the eye. "If you're serious about your wish, then you should chase it. But be careful, because the world is brutal out there. I'd suggest grouping up with people you can trust, rather than striking out on your own or, Gods forbid, hiring mercs to protect you. Those bastards just care about your money, not you."

You continue to ramble on a bit about your general dislike of mercenaries and their ilk. The shopkeeper doesn't stop you out of respect, but you can tell he doesn't care for your rant about how they'll drink all your alcohol if you have it. Eventually, your throat gets sore anyhow, so you stop. You don't think you've talked this much in ages.

"I'll be sure to not hire mercenaries then, Sir Kit. I've got a group of friends who are interested in adventuring as well, and we all have some level of combat experience. We're not gonna go on an adventure like you did, just explore. But..." He bites his lip nervously. "I don't know who will manage the shop while I'm gone. I don't want to lose it."

You nod, having expected that. Having encouraged him, you feel the need to help him with this so he can get his ass on the open road. The question is, who could take over the shop? You ask, "Any idea who could manage it for you?"

He nods. "I have an idea, yeah. There's another store across town, I'm sure they'd be happy to manage the shop for me. Though I am a bit worried about them... They might try and permanently take over the shop, if you know what I mean. They need to expand to get all the customers they can get after all."

You hum. That can't be the only option though, right?
> You you'll have him go to the other shop.
You nod in agreement. "Yeah, that'd be the best bet. They know how to run this sort of business, and already have enough goodwill with the people that the place will finally get shoppers."

He considers your words, and nods. "Right. This'll boost the business, and I can go have an adventure!" With a grin, he leans over the counter and hugs you. Awkwardly, you pat his back. "Thank you, Sir Kit. I can finally leave this town!"

All you give is a shrug. "Just doing my part. Have fun, kid." With those words, you exit the shop, and step out into the marketplace. For the rest of the day, you mill about Sodran for a while, visiting other places you and your friends visited. A few of the shops have closed down, some of them are under new management. The remainder that haven't changed as much are surprised and pleased to see you.

At the end of the day, you head to an inn near the entrance to the city and sleep. When you awake in the morning, you pack up your things and leave the city behind. Weeks pass as you get further and further away from your former home, then reach a port town by the sea. You pick up transit on a supply ship headed to Cikoni. A few months later, you arrive in the country.

You wander there for a while, unsure what to do. Eventually, you find a small coastal town with few people. There, you take residence in an abandoned shack. To make ends meet, you get a job at a farm, tending to exotic crops you've never seen before. It's strange, but eventually, you think you've got the hang of it.

It's a good life. All in all, better than anything a guy like you could've hoped for.

THE END


After a moment of thinking the kid's words over, you look him dead in the eye. "If you're serious about your wish, then you should chase it. But be careful, because the world is brutal out there. I'd suggest grouping up with people you can trust, rather than striking out on your own or, Gods forbid, hiring mercs to protect you. Those bastards just care about your money, not you."

You continue to ramble on a bit about your general dislike of mercenaries and their ilk. The shopkeeper doesn't stop you out of respect, but you can tell he doesn't care for your rant about how they'll drink all your alcohol if you have it. Eventually, your throat gets sore anyhow, so you stop. You don't think you've talked this much in ages.

"I'll be sure to not hire mercenaries then, Sir Kit. I've got a group of friends who are interested in adventuring as well, and we all have some level of combat experience. We're not gonna go on an adventure like you did, just explore. But..." He bites his lip nervously. "I don't know who will manage the shop while I'm gone. I don't want to lose it."

You nod, having expected that. Having encouraged him, you feel the need to help him with this so he can get his ass on the open road. The question is, who could take over the shop? You ask, "Any idea who could manage it for you?"

He nods. "I have an idea, yeah. There's another store across town, I'm sure they'd be happy to manage the shop for me. Though I am a bit worried about them... They might try and permanently take over the shop, if you know what I mean. They need to expand to get all the customers they can get after all."

You hum. That can't be the only option though, right?
> You ... Maybe you could run it for him?
... You're going to hate yourself for this, but you voice your thoughts after a moment: "Frankly, I don't trust the other store to manage this place well. Like you said, they might try and steal the place from under your nose."

The shopkeeper considers your words for a bit, before nodding. "Yeah. You're right... But who will run the shop?"

Oh you're really gonna hate yourself for it. "... I could run the store for you."

His eyes immediately widen. "Y-you would? Really?"

With a groan, you reply, "Yeah, really. Don't get too mushy, I'm still not sold on the idea myself."

As if ignoring your warning, he immediately goes in for a hug. Awkwardly, you pat his shoulder. "Thank you, Sir Kit!" He pulls away, wiping a tear from his eye. "I can't believe it! I finally met my hero, and now I'm going to go on an adventure of my own!" He beams at you.

You give a cough. "... Just get going. Grab your things, gather your friends. I'll take over from here."

He nods, heading to a backroom. You hear him shuffling with things, you assume his gear and supplies, and soon after he exits the room with a knapsack strapped to his back alongside a longsword. You point at it. "Know how to use that thing?"

He nods. "Of course! My father taught me how, in case I ever needed to defend the store from thieves. But now, I'm gonna put it to better use!"

You chuckle. "Alright, kid. Get going. Oh, and don't forget the key for me."

He nods, tossing you a small key. "Thank you for this, Sir Kit, really! I'll be back before you know it!"

You chuckle, and say, "I'm sure you will." Then, you look around the store, trying to figure out how the hell you're gonna do this. Sighing, you just decide to head behind the counter and take a seat. When it's late, you head to the backroom and collapse into a bed there, falling asleep before you know it.

The next day, you get up, head to the counter, and wait. This time, a customer actually comes in. He looks around, asking about lantern oil, and you oblige, showing him the way to it. He thanks you profusely, saying something about how he needed it because his pet rat accidentally spilled all of his yesterday. You listen intently, sort of bored, but it pays off. The customer leaves, oil in hand, with a smile on his face.

You continue on like that for days. People come in, you give them good service and listen to them patiently when they explain why they need this or that. They all leave with smiles on their faces. You're not sure why, as all you're doing is staying silent while they ramble, but they enjoy it. The customers increase their traffic, probably due to recommendations from friends, and you find that the store is now getting a more healthy amount of customers than what the last owner was speaking of.

These days spread to weeks, then months. You still have yet to hear back from the owner, but you assume he's having fun. When the months spread to years, you assume he might have passed away, or decided not to head back after all. Whatever reason, you never see him again, and consider the store under your sole ownership now.

It's a nice life to live. Soon, you've integrated into the city so well, that "Louie's Supplies" is a name long forgotten; after all, now it's "Kit's General Store". You're known for serving customers with a smile on your face and a positive attitude. Strange how things end up.

You pass away in your sleep silently a few decades later, and the whole city mourns your death... For a few days, that is. Soon enough, the other store that the shopkeeper had mentioned long ago moves in to fill the gap you left, and eventually, even "Kit's General Store" is forgotten. Still, at least you were able to enjoy your last years on the world in peace.

THE END