The Villainess wants to be a Hero

I look out over the city of Reitzland, twinkling in the setting sun, and then turn toward the gathering of upset people breaking off into small groups. The two paths laid out before me couldn't have been any clearer.

Down one, I would sneak into the city and complete my first step toward becoming a [Hero]. Down the other, I would camp outside and use my soon-to-be [Hero] skills to ward off whatever evil stalked the night.

It was the very first day since I'd abandoned being a villain, and yet I was paralyzed. Not physically, of course. Even with my [Calamity] powers sealed inside myself, I was still a masterwork of shaped Wyrd rather than flesh and blood. But rather by the dilemma before me.

One choice would further my quest to become a [Hero], while the other encompassed the acts that a [Hero] would perform.

How was I supposed to choose between the two?

I turned to look at Markus, hoping my furry friend would have some advice, but his head was drooped down against my neck, and his body was twitching with little furry-critter dreams.

I sigh, disappointed that I wouldn't have his counsel on this dilemma but let him continue sleeping. He'd had a long day.

Besides, I couldn't keep turning to him for advice. If I did that, he might end up becoming a [Hero] as well—or worse, instead of me. And I didn't want to be the sidekick who killed the [Hero] and stole their powers. I'd read enough to know that would lead me right back to being a villain.

Still, letting Markus nap left me no closer to resolving my issues. In fact, it left me even worse off because as I weighed my options, a horrifying realization was starting to bubble in the back of my mind: I may have a lack of suitably refined heroic instincts. And while I was sure my many future deeds would resolve that particular issue quite nicely, it did little to help me now.

And so, despite my genius, I was stuck in this morass of indecision and-

My genius mind shatters in fractal patterns as it plays out a thousand scenarios and then reforms.

I smile. Of course. It was so simple. If my nascent heroic instincts were too new to rely upon, I could instead call upon my villainous ones—instincts which I knew had been honed to an impeccable fineness over the last fifteen years—and then simply do the opposite.

My relief at that realization—and the reliability of my genius—was palpable. Because when I viewed my problem through that lens, the answer was clear.

I would stay outside and protect these poor, helpless people from the terrors that no doubt were even now stalking the late afternoon. And I would do that in the time-honored tradition of [Heroes] everywhere.

I would patrol the camp.


"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

An elderly voice interrupts me from my meticulous inspection of the camp perimeter that marked the edge between the flickering of campfires and the evils lurking in the darkness beyond.

I turn to what was clearly an old, married couple gathered around a campfire. The old woman was looking at me while stirring a pot hanging over the fire and the old man was carving a stick with a wide-bladed knife.

I salute her like one knight had saluted me earlier, mostly because I thought it had looked neat when he'd done it.

"I'm fine, miss. I'm just patrolling the perimeter."

"Oh my, aren't you just adorable? What's your name, dear? And are you sure your parents are okay with you wandering about camp like this?"

I pause before instinctively responding that I wasn't born; I was hatched from a chrysalis of Wyrd, and anyway, my sisters and I had long since devoured the one who had created us. And decide instead to use my new-found skill of telling half-truths.

"My name is Ciel. I'm all by myself. My…" I pause to decide whether my creator counted as a father. On the one hand, he'd never really done much for us besides scream in agony as we dismembered him. On the other hand, he had kind of birthed us, so that was probably close enough. "He's dead."

"What? You're out here all by yourself. You poor brave thing. I'm Marta, and this is my husband, Henrick." The elderly woman turns toward her husband, who has set aside his knife in favor of staring into the coals of the campfire. "Henrick. Get the girl a bowl and a place to sit—and bring her something warm to wear while you're at it. The red scarf, dear. It's almost the exact same shade as her eyes."

I wasn't cold at all. I didn't think it was possible for my sisters or me to even feel cold. But instead of correcting the old woman, I decided to remain silent. After all, a new scarf would be lovely. And it would give Markus something soft to rest on.

"Marta…"

The old man's voice whines in a way that would have gotten him gutted in any number of villainous cabals I'd been a part of. Fortunately for him, I was a [Hero], so I generously let the grating tone go. Unfortunately for him, his wife was not so generous.

"Move, Henrick, or you'll be sharing a bag of oats with the mule for dinner tonight."

That threat works as well as any threat of evisceration I'd ever made. Better, in fact, than many because no sooner was it uttered than the whining old man was up and moving.

With a satisfied look, the older woman turns toward me and smiles. "Come join us for dinner, dear. It's the least we can do for a brave young lass out on her own."

I open my mouth to decline the offer—I could subsist off of ambient mana for months on end—only to be interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach.

A frown crosses my face at the unfamiliar sound before my perfect memory reminds me that I had sealed away that part of myself along with the rest of my [Calamity] skills.

"I-" What was that? Was I hungry?

"It's not a problem, dear. Just come and warm yourself by the fire. Henrick and I will take care of everything." She smiles conspiratorially as I slowly approach the fire. "Don't let my husband's gruff manner fool you. He's a softy at heart."

In my experience, every human was soft at heart—it was such a squishy organ—but I didn't think that's what the old woman meant. Still, I nodded as though I understood. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed, dear."

The old woman shakes her head, seeming just on the verge of saying something more. However, instead of voicing whatever thoughts I could see lurking in her eyes, she remained silent.

A moment later, she turns as her husband reappears from the gloom with a bright red piece of cloth draped over his left shoulder and a stack of wooden bowls and cutlery gripped loosely in the other. She bustles over toward the older man, plucks the length of cloth from his shoulder, and moves toward me with it gripped lightly in one hand while the old man sets the bowls down near the fire.

"Here. Feel this. We wove it with wool from the family goat. We had intended to give it to our-"

Thanks to my perfect eyesight, I see a faint glimmer of wetness around the old woman's eyes as she stops moving forward, her voice trailing into a whispered 'daughter.' A moment later, her husband reaches out, places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes.

"Our daughter was about your age when s-she left to make a life for herself in the city." The old man clears his throat roughly against the hoarseness in his throat and continues. "We got word a month back that she'd been found dead and…"

The old man trails off again into silence and puts an arm around his wife. I watch the two of them embrace in silence, feeling uncomfortable in a way I couldn't put into words.

Fortunately, despite the feelings bubbling up in my stomach, my genius mind was undeterred in finding something to say.

"This is Markus. He's my friend." Said furry friend levels an annoyed look at me as I wake him from his nap atop my shoulder and hold him out to the older couple. "I found him in the forest."

"Oh." The old woman blinks away the wetness in her eyes and smiles. "And isn't he a handsome little man?"

I nodded in agreement. I hadn't just snatched the first furry creature I'd seen. A [Hero] had to have standards in her choice of companions. But before I could bring him closer to show off the glossy coat on his fur, Markus managed to squirm his way out of my hold and scamper back up my arm to his perch on my shoulder.

"He was the one with the fluffiest tail."

"You chose well, young lass. Red-tailed squirrels are a symbol of good luck around these parts."

I run a finger gently down the red stripe on Markus's tail and smile happily. Having a rare animal companion—and one that symbolized luck, no less—was a sure sign that I was on the right track with my quest to become a [Hero].

"Now there's a smile." The old woman's face brightens further, almost to what it was before the mention of her dead daughter. "Shall we have some dinner, my dears?"

"A pack of wild horses couldn't keep me away, love."

The old man responds first, and I have to resist an urge to frown. Unless he was much stronger than he looked—and unfortunately, with my [Dissection of the Root] sealed away, I couldn't see his level or skills—he wouldn't stand much of a chance against one horse, let alone a pack of them.

On the other hand, I knew villains got stronger as they got older, so perhaps it was the same for [Farmers].

Well, there was only one way to know for sure.

"Are you sure, mister? You don't look that strong."

The old woman blinks once and then explodes in cackling laughter that drowns out the sputtered response from the old man. At first, the old man scowls at his wife, but that doesn't last long before he, too, seems to get caught up in her laughter.

I watch, bewildered, as they lean against each other and laugh in a way that reminds me of a coven of [Banshees] I had once worked with. Eventually, the surprisingly loud and vibrant laughter dies down enough as the two of them try to regather their breath.

As the old people gather themselves, I find myself caught between two feelings. On the one hand, it was… not unpleasant watching them laugh. Yet, on the other, their laughter had left me no closer to knowing whether or not [Farmers] grew stronger with age.

"Oh, dear. I do believe I needed that. It's been a long few weeks. And I haven't seen my husband put in his place so neatly since Sera left."

The smile that accompanies her words is something I do recognize. It was the same one I wore when I missed my sisters and wondered what they were up to.

Wistful. That was the word.

"Do you like fish, dear?"

I nod my agreement. My favorite were the big ones that lived deep in the ocean. They were wonderfully juicy, and the way they crunched when my teeth snapped through their spine was simply delightful.

"Then you'll love my world-renowned Reitz Stew." The woman grins, doubtless smug over having created such a famous recipe. "I make it with leeks, watercress, a secret blend of herbs and spices, and a few generous chunks of river perch."

As she finishes the explanation, the old woman sweeps a trio of bowls into one arm and ladles out stew until the bowls are just shy of full to the brim. With similarly expert precision, she gracefully hands a bowl to me and then her husband before taking the third for herself.

Seeing my impressed look, she smirks. "I spent some time in the capital as a [Server] when I was a much younger lady. It's how I met my Henrick."

"She left a note on my plate with an address, and like a fool, I went, not sure whether I was going to be mugged or fu-."

"Henrick!"

I ignore the sharp, whispered conversation between the two in favor of scooping up the biggest piece of fish in my bowl with my wooden spoon.

I'd once worked for an overlord who had kidnapped Odril's sixth best [Chef] and [Soul Bound] him to servitude. It had been a real shame when a cross-city rival had assassinated him, but I'd learned a lot about food in my time there, so I knew I would be able to judge this world-famous stew accordingly.

I bring the steaming hot spoonful of fish to my mouth, pausing to blow on it twice—because I knew that's what I was supposed to do in my smaller form—and take a bite.

I roll the bite around in my mouth and chew slowly and deliberately. The fish was just as juicy as I'd expected, and the broth tasted like lemongrass and pepper and a faint floral freshness that I couldn't quite identify. I chew a few more times, letting the flavors meld on my tongue as I judge the taste before swallowing.

I let my spoon fall into the bowl and held out my free hand with a thumbs up, just like I had been taught. "This is really good. You could easily be the seventh best [Chef] in Odril with a recipe like this."

"There you go, love. A top-ten ranking in Odril. That's quite the achievement for your stew, isn't it?" The old man chuckles into his stew, only to let out a soft 'oof' as his wife digs her elbow sharply into his side.

"Thank you, dear." This time, the smile is one far more familiar to me. It had quite an impressive tinge of menace. "Would you like seconds?"

"Yes, please."


A hand shakes at my shoulder, and I twist deeper into my blankets with a mumbled 'grmfblrl,' fully intending to ignore whatever was trying to wake me up. As the hand shakes me a second time, I feel a moment of confusion as to why my aura hadn't already murdered whoever was bothering me before my immaculate memory reminds me that I had sealed it away along with the rest of my [Calamity] skills.

Before I can be shaken a third time, I yawn and stretch my arms above my head before opening my eyes to see the old woman smiling above me.

"Good morning, dear."

"Mrgrbl."

"The guards have cleared the crimson alert and decided to let folks enter early."

I rub the crust out of my eyes as sleep drains from my body and sit up so I can stretch my legs before the old woman's words filter into my brain.

"Really? Then there's no time to lose."

I jump upright and snag the scarf the old woman had given me last night. I wrap it around my neck with one hand and then sweep it around so that one end trails down my chest and the other down my back.

I look down into my makeshift bedding and snap my fingers. "C'mon, Markus. Wake up. We've got to go."

My furry companion twitches twice before rolling onto his stomach and running over to scramble up my leg and take his spot on my shoulder.

"Thanks for dinner, ma'am, but we've got to go," I call out over my shoulder as I rush to where a line of people is slowly assembling. I had to hurry. If I waited too long, I'd be stuck in line all day.

"Oh? You don't have to rush, dear. Henrick and I would be happy for your company."

There's something in her voice that tugs at something inside me. I bring a fist up to thump at my chest a few times until the feeling goes away.

I turn to the old woman and her husband and wave a hand over my head in a sweeping motion. "Thank you, but I have to go. I'm going to be a [Hero]."

Without waiting for a response, I start running toward the city. And my destiny.


My destiny ended up being stuck behind a large, red-haired man talking loudly to a dirty-looking man with a short bow strapped to his back and a pimply young man with what looked like the world's least impressive grimoire dangling from a chain about his waist.

They were an adventuring team. I knew that because of the bracelets wrapped around each of their wrists. Bronze, which marked them as E-Rank if I remembered correctly, and thanks to my immaculate memory, I knew that I did.

For a moment, I consider moving closer to better overhear the response to his practically bellowed questions. After all, gaining the wisdom of my soon-to-be seniors in the adventurer's guild seemed like a good idea. But when I spot a space opening up as an exhausted-looking group of farmers lagged a pace or two behind the slow shuffle of the line, another, far better idea occurs to me.

With the grace of a [Calamity] tip-toeing through the wilderness, I duck behind the large man and use his size to screen everyone's view as I dash for the spot that had opened up in front of the line.

I ignore a chorus of grumpy shouting as I plant myself in front of the [Guard] waving people into the city.

"Hi."

"Name, class, and reason for visit."

A bored stare framed by one of those metal helmets that only covered the top of someone's head meets my enthusiastic smile, and a rush of disappointment washes through me. It wasn't that I expected the [Guard] to know that he was welcoming a future [Hero] into the city. Nor was it because I apparently had to answer a quiz to enter the city. No, it was because my enthusiastic smile had never failed to elicit a response before.

Well, I frowned to myself. If he didn't like my smile, then he definitely didn't deserve to see it. Instead, he'd get the same stare I'd give a particularly incompetent lackey.

"Ciel. No class. I want to be an adventurer."

I tried my best to make my voice a flat monotone, utterly devoid of warmth or emotion, but even then, I could barely match the pure apathy and indifference to life that the guard had asked his questions with. My stare, however, was clearly the superior one. I knew that because the [Guard] instantly started to flinch and fidget in place.

And so, when his eyes fall from mine and drop to the ground, I graciously accept victory in our little contest and relax back into a smile—a far smaller one than I'd used earlier. He didn't deserve anything more.

"Thank you. I'm going in now."

I don't wait for the [Guard] to snap out of his stupor, and I completely ignore his voice shouting things like 'Come back' and 'I haven't given you clearance to enter' as I run happily into the city.

I was finally here, in Reitzland, The City of Adventurers, and the place where I would finally become a [Hero].


Half an hour later—I knew that much time had passed because I was counting the bells that rang from the city's clocktower—and after passing a fountain of a man with a crown riding on top of a giant fish for the third time, I realized that I didn't know where I was supposed to go.

It wasn't that I was lost. No. Never that. [Heroes] certainly never got lost. Neither, for that matter, did [Calamities]. So, I'd be the laughing stock of two worlds if I were lost, which I clearly wasn't. I was just enjoying the sights of the first non-rampaged city I'd ever been to.

The villains and overlords I usually worked with preferred abandoned castles and dank caverns—something about it being hard to assemble an army of occasionally cannibalistic soldiers in the middle of a city. And while I knew some overlords preferred cities, the city-dwelling types didn't tend to have the kind of jobs I enjoyed. Apparently, collateral damage was undesirable when you wanted to rule a city from the shadows rather than as an iron-fisted dictator.

Which was really a shame since I had a sneaking suspicion that city-dwelling villains were a bit more refined than the ones I had grown so tired of. Not that that mattered any more either way. I was here to be a [Hero], and that meant stopping any up-and-coming villains, not joining them.

And so, I turn my attention away from different kinds of villains and feel a thrill course through me as my eyes land on a vine-covered wall with a pair of balconies dotting the top floor of the building. I'd never stayed at an inn before—at least not one I hadn't rampaged through or on top of before—and I was looking forward to checking that off my list.

After looking my fill of the inn, I turn the other direction only for my eyes to light up again at the sight of a wooden plaque with a pair of swords crossed over a shield. I'd never been to a blacksmith, either, since my skin and claws were far, far stronger than steel, and my aura could shrug off everything but the strongest of [Relics]. But when I became an adventurer, I'd definitely need to shop here—though I'll probably wait until I find a party so I'd know what role I need to occupy.

I turn to look for yet another sight I'd only read about in my books, but that odd grumbly noise from my stomach stops me. Was I hungry again already? This was such a hassle. How did non-[Calamaties] deal with this?

I look at Markus and notice that his tiny, furry belly seems to be grumbling, just like mine. "We need to find something to eat, don't we?"

"Chirp."

I take that sound as a 'yes' and turn my perfectly honed senses toward finding something to eat. Expanding out my eyes and ears is easy enough, but one quickly aborted attempt to do the same with my nose is enough for me to pull back that sense and swear never to try that again.

Who knew cities could smell that bad?

Still, my ears had been enough to pick up the sound of someone shouting about 'Fresh baked buns,' once I recovered from gagging at the smell of a hundred unwashed latrines, I'd go find those buns.


I step up to the counter and smile up at a pudgy, balding man wearing a stained apron. "Hi. Markus and I are hungry. Can we have something to eat?"

Markus sits up from his lazy sprawl on my shoulder and places his paws together in front of him, and I turn my smile up as bright as it will go.

"Ya' got any money, kid?" The man stares down at me, nonplussed, as he wipes his hands back and forth along his apron.

"Nope." I shake my head. I'd never needed it as a [Calamity], and from my reading, money always seemed to rain down upon [Heroes] when they needed it, so I hadn't bothered taking any coins from the [Lord of Fallen Flame] when I'd left.

"Ya' don't look like an urchin kid, so why don't ya' get yer parents to buy ya' something?"

That was the second time someone had mentioned my parents in the last day or so. Were people really that concerned about my creator? Well, he must have been quite powerful to have been able to create my sisters and me. Not so strong that he'd been able to survive after he'd started trying to order us around, but still.

"He's dead."

The man stops wiping his hands against his apron and leans forward to stare at me. "Suppose that means yer ma's gone too?"

I'd never even considered the idea of a mother. Even after letting my mind shatter into fractal patterns and looking for something I could call a mother, I came up blank. Unless I counted the far depths of the Far Planes that my creator had stolen to create my sisters and me. But that was quite a stretch. The Wyrd could become many things, but I was almost certain a mother was not one of them.

"Never had one."

"Look, kid. I feel for ya', but I ain't running a charity here, so…" the man trails off as he leans even closer, "Bah. A roll or two's not gonna make a difference."

After saying that, he grabs a flakey-looking piece of bread that was stuffed, seemingly bursting with what looked like chocolate. Pain au chocolat if I remembered what that [Soul Bound Chef] had called them, and thanks to my impeccable memory, I certainly did. He then grabs a long stick of bread—a baguette, my infallible memory tells me—and wraps them in a thin piece of wax paper.

"Here, kid. I ain't gonna feed ya' every day, but if ya' come 'round near closing time, I might have a snack or two waiting for ya'."

"Thank you, mister." I accept the bounty with my brightest smile yet and immediately break off a piece of the chocolate bread for Markus.

"Yeah, yeah." The man looks away as he scratches the back of his head. "Stay out of trouble ya' hear me."

"I will," I promise as I start walking away. After all, I would be a [Hero], and [Heroes] never got into trouble.


After securing a meal for Markus and myself, I wandered back to the fish king statue and sat down upon the lip of it so we could eat. Apparently, we had both been quite hungry since we consumed the chocolate bread and the long bread stick in minutes.

As I lean back on my hands, careful not to let my scarf dip into the fountain water. I ponder what to do next. I knew I needed to find the adventurer's guild, but despite my best attempts, I had so far been roundly defeated by the maze of streets and intersections of Reitzland.

If only I could still use my larger form. Finding the guild would be easy then. I'd just have had to look for the building all the people trying to attack me were pouring out of.

That wasn't an option now, though. So, instead, I let my mind shatter into fractal patterns as it chases a thousand different ideas down to their conclusion.

When my mind reforms an instant later, I smile widely because I have not one but three potential plans laid out in front of me.

[] First, I could ask the shady [Information Broker] lurking in a nearby alley for directions. As a [Calamity], I was well-versed in getting valuable information from that kind of person.

[] Second, I could go into the rowdy bar I'd seen a few intersections back and ask someone there for directions. My stories all said that bars were the best place to find information.

[] Third, I could shout at the top of my lungs that I needed help. Whenever I had shown up to rampage, that kind of shouting had always drawn a lot of people trying to help.

[AN]
In my outline, Ciel was going to wander between campsites and meet several different groups that night. I blew through the word count I'd allotted for that first meeting almost immediately. I think it probably works better as one ~ 2.3k-word scene rather than as three ~ 800-word scenes, though.

Unlike the dilemma in which I had found myself last night, the choice between the three options my genius had just come up with was really quite simple.

While going and talking to the [Information Broker] was an interesting idea and would have likely ended up with me meeting one of the many criminal organizations that infested Reitzland's streets, it wasn't the choice a [Hero] would make. Unless said [Hero] was going undercover to infiltrate a slaving ring that stretched to the highest levels of society in order to bring it crashing down, of course.

But while that sounded fun, and also a really good way to practice my heroic instincts, even I knew that I needed a quest for it first. And a party member or two to handle some of the more boring tasks, like staking out the villain's hideout or uncovering clues in books that weren't about [Heroes]. So, despite the potential of the idea, I was ultimately forced to cross it off my list. However, I made a note in my impeccable memory to come back and talk to him when I inevitably received a quest to destroy an evil slave trading ring.

That left me with just two options. Of which the second one was probably the simplest: just stand up on the fountain and start shouting. But I only had to think about this one for a moment or two before crossing it off, just as I had my first idea, primarily because I had no idea what exactly I should be shouting.

People usually shouted things like 'Aahhh, the pain!!!!' or 'Save me!!!' or 'Dead Gods, what is that thing!?!'—that last one mostly when I was new to an area—when I was around. But I wasn't in pain, and I didn't need saving. Plus, thanks to the [Well of Urdr], I knew exactly what answers the dead gods would give to that question—or any other for that matter.

Nothing. The answer was nothing because they were dead.

And tasty.

Like all the flavors of every meal I'd ever eaten rolled into one, but not as disgusting as that would probably be in reality.

I shake my head to banish that delicious memory and discreetly wipe away a thin trickle of drool from the edge of my mouth before Markus can see it. I had an image as a soon-to-be [Hero] to protect, and [Heroes] certainly didn't drool over the delicious taste of dead gods.

That left only one option: asking someone at the inn bursting with noise and music and shouting that we'd passed a while back. Fortunately, there was nowhere better to find someone who could direct me to the Adventurer's Guild than a place of drunken debauchery. Those were two of the four prime traits of adventurers everywhere, after all.

The other two traits were insatiable greed and reckless stupidity, but the only place I could think of that would cater to those two traits was an Adventurers Guildhouse. And if I knew where it was, I'd be there already.


A tug on my hair halts me right before I can push the inn door open. I turn to look at what had touched me, only to see that my furry friend had his paws clapped firmly over his adorable little ears. A confused frown crosses my face before smoothing away as my genius mind points out the source of his obvious discomfort.

The inn was too loud for him.

Thanks to my immaculate senses, I could filter and separate out the dozens of different noises within. But for Markus, who wasn't gifted with auditory perfection, I could only imagine what the cacophony inside would sound like.

"Do you want to wait outside?"

My companion nods twice before raising his paws to point at a tree growing in the intersection between two streets. It was a nice tree, full of bright green leaves and clumps of nuts, but other than that, I wasn't sure why he'd point it out to me. Well, I guess squirrels would possess a certain aesthetic sense for trees, but other than that-

"Chirp."

Oh, that's where he wanted to wait while I went inside to find us a guide. Why didn't he just say so?

"OK, but don't wander too far, and make sure you keep an eye out for hawks."

At my agreement, Markus leaps from my shoulder and scampers over to the tree.

I wait until he's safely ensconced in the higher branches of the tree before waving at him, smiling happily when he waves a tiny, furred paw in response. Then I walk back over to the noisy inn. My hand settles on the smooth wood of the door, and I exhale slowly. This was it. I was so close to becoming a [Hero] that I could practically taste it. All I had to do was open the door and go inside.

The slam of the door opening as I step inside is nearly inaudible. Even my perfectly honed ears would have had to focus directly to hear it over the noise of the inn. But why would I want to do that when there were so many other things to focus on instead?

To one side, a pair of tables were laden down with platters filled to near overflowing with gray cuts of meat, oddly shaped loaves of bread, and wheels of crumbly, yellow cheese. Surrounding this unpleasant-looking meal were dozens of scarred men and women in tight-fitting armor fashioned from leather and chained links of metal. A simple flag featuring a black eagle set against a red background marked these men and women as the Black Eagle Company, a mercenary company that hailed from the far north, if my infallible memory was correct, and it always was.

At the head of one of the tables, a pale-skinned man with a patch set over his left eye is bellowing out something that even my impeccable hearing had difficulty discerning. I pause briefly to look more closely to see if he was dying before concluding he was just drunk. The only other time I'd heard sounds like that was from a minotaur that had been crushed from the waist down by a [Calamity]'s stomp.

On the other side of the inn was another group of mercenaries, though where the first one mainly wore leather and chain, this group wore a kind of thick, flowing cloth that I remember being popular in the deserts to the west. They were also much more tanned than the other group, a fact which supported my brilliant deduction that they were, in fact, from the Sandswept Lands. As did a flag with a brown fox set against a yellow background—The Desert Foxes.

A disgusted look forms on my face, and I make no effort to cover it. The gross food alone was bad enough, but the presence of so many mercenaries marked the inn as one of the worst places I'd ever visited. Mercenaries were the eternal rival to adventurers everywhere. Not only did they take fun and dangerous quests that would have otherwise gone to adventurers, but instead of completing them with bravery and a reckless disregard for personal safety, they used cowardly things like tactics and discretion.

All in all, this inn was clearly a vile place, and if I were not otherwise occupied in my quest to become a [Hero], I might have taken some time to do something about it. Fortunately for the staff and non-mercenary patrons—and maybe the rest of the city, too—I was here for something else.

Directions.

So, instead of rampaging all over this establishment, I move over to a woman being groped by one of the northern mercenaries and reach out to tug on her apron. Both the woman and the man groping her turn toward me, one with a hopeful face that soon falls into disappointment and the other with an annoyed look that only grows deeper as I match his scowl with my own.

"I need directions to the Adventurer's Guild."

The woman blinks, seeming lost for words, but that only gives the mercenary a chance to respond first.

"Piss off, brat. Can't ya see we're busy?"

As if to punctuate his statement, the mercenary raises the hand he'd been using to grope the woman's rear and starts pawing at her chest.

A frown crosses my face at that, and I debate unsealing my aura just enough to eviscerate this rude man, but luckily for him, I decide not to. After all, if I killed this man, then I would probably have to kill all his friends. And then I would have to kill everyone else in the inn to keep my massacre a secret. And even with my fledgling heroic instincts, I knew wanton slaughter was not heroic.

Unfortunately, that left me with something of a quandary because I could tell from the look on the woman's face that she wouldn't be answering my question in her current situation. And so, if I wanted directions, it seemed as though I would have to find some way of prising her from this mercenary's lechery.

Fortunately, just because I wouldn't be dealing out swift yet agonizingly painful death, that didn't mean I was without options. After all, being a [Calamity] also meant being a genius. And so, I let my mind shatter into fractal patterns as I chased a plan that would free this woman and not involve me slaughtering everyone around me.

An instant later, my mind reforms with a fool-proof plan, and I smile happily. I really was a genius.

I knew from my time rampaging in the Northern Kingdoms that not only were the men and women there incredibly prickly about their honor, but that the people of that land also harbored a deep-seated resentment for their southern neighbors because [Calamities] rarely rampaged that far west. Which only made sense. Sand gets everywhere, especially in between a [Calamity's] armor plates.

With those two facts firmly in mind, my plan practically assembled itself. First, I would fan that flame of resentment into an open conflagration by insulting the mercenary until he reached a frothing rage. Then, I would cleverly pin the blame for my insults on one of the Yellow Fox mercenaries.

"Excuse me, sir, but that man over there," I point to the eye-patched mercenary captain, still singing in a way that sounded as though he was being tortured. "Said that you have teeth so soft you couldn't even chew through sandstone."

"Huh?"

I frown. That was my go-to insult when I wanted to get one of my sisters riled up, but instead of a blast of annihilating energy, the mercenary was just staring at me with a dumb look of incomprehension on his face. Well, whatever, I had better.

"Your limbs are sadly symmetrical and over-reliant on bone for structure."

"Wha?"

My frown deepens. If I had insulted one of my sister's limbs like that, our fight would have devastated dozens of miles of landscape. Yet it didn't even seem to register to this human. Right, well, OK, time to bring out the big claws.

"Your armor plates are so thin I bet they couldn't even withstand a tier 3 spell."

"Buh?"

My frown transforms into a full-on scowl. That was my best insult, but all it had gotten was a blank stare from this drunken fool. Where was the anger? Where was the bile and rage? How could this human hear such an offensive thing said about him and offer nothing more than a mildly confused stare?

I couldn't believe it. Was my brilliant plan truly not working? I feel my cheeks start to burn. This had never happened before. I've never been so embarrassed before in my life. And by a pitiful human at that.

I reach into the place deep within my soul where I store my [Calamity] powers. I would have to kill everyone in here. No one could ever know of this humiliation. I would have to be careful not to cause too much damage, though. Markus was still waiting outside.

Something slams against my foot as I debate whether to use a [Ray of Annihilation] to simply erase this inn from existence or just start lashing out with my aura. I blink out of my contemplation and frown as I see a woman being groped, even as she shakes her foot and hisses with pain. My internal debate pauses momentarily, and I open my mouth to ask why she attacked me, but before I can, she mouths the words 'insult his mother.'

I frown at that suggestion. He'd taken my best insults without a single flinch. How would insulting his mother do anything? If I'd tried that with any of my sisters, I'd be laughed out every gathering from now until the earth turned to dust.

No. I shake my head firmly. I'd never had a plan to insult this fool into a frenzy. My plan right now was leaning toward blasting the inn with a wave of raw magic. If I did it right, there'd be enough concussive force to turn the people in the inn to shreds of meat and bone while leaving the inn itself untouched.

Once again, I'm interrupted before I can decide on how to start my rampage by an attack to my foot. I look at the woman who mouths the same suggestion, only this time, a frantic, almost desperate stare accompanies it.

Fine. I nod. I would try the woman's suggestion. When it inevitably failed, there would be plenty of time for slaughter.

"He also said your mother has the grace of a pregnant bear and chews her food like a cow."

"HE SAID WHAT!!?!!" I blink in surprise as the mercenary surges to his feet, tosses the woman he'd been groping aside, and stomps loudly over to where the other mercenary leader was sitting.

"This has got to be the dumbest thing I've seen all year."

The woman mutters to herself as she fixes her outfit while slowly pushing herself to her feet. She turns to look at me, and something too complex for even my refined [Calamity] senses to decipher flickers across her face.

"Look, kid. I appreciate what you did, but it's-"

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!! MY MOMMA DOES NOT CHEW HER FOOD LIKE A COW!!! SHE'S A QUEEN AMONG WOMEN!!!"

There's a moment of absolute silence as the mercenary I'd been insulting lands a fist on the eye-patched mercenary and sends him sprawling across the floor. Said moment of silence is shattered an instant later by the sound of benches scraping against wood as dozens of mercenaries push themselves to their feet and launch themselves in nearly perfect synchronicity into a maelstrom of fists and makeshift weaponry and flying food.

A pleased smile crosses my face as I take in the violence unfolding in front of me, only for my enjoyment to be immediately interrupted by a hand grabbing my arm and tugging uselessly.

"Fuck, kid. What the hell do they feed you?"

I consider answering truthfully before deciding that probably fell under the same umbrella of [Calamity] things I shouldn't talk about. So, instead, I answered with the first things that came to mind.

"Reitz Stew and pan au chocolat."

All I receive for my honesty is a blank stare and a renewed tugging on my arm. "That's- that was a rhetorical question. Come on, we've got to get the fuck out of here."

"You don't want to stay and watch?" I shift my head to the side and let a fork fly through the space where my right eye had been. "They don't seem to be that skilled at fighting, but the enthusiastic bloodlust kind of makes up for it, doesn't it?"

"Shit. You're even crazier than them. Well fuck that, I'm out of here."

I turn back to the melee and smile as I watch a man being choked with his own belt. Even a scuffle like this had a charm all of its own. That woman didn't know what she was missing-

Wait a minute. I couldn't let her leave. She had my directions.

After her.

I sprint back toward the entrance, ignoring a pair of brawling mercenaries as they bounce off me in favor of focusing my attention on the flicker of a dirty-white apron as it escapes through the front door.

Faster.

If I lost sight of her now, I'd have to find another inn and do all this over again.

I push myself to the limits of the speed I could reach without tapping into my [Calamity] powers and reach the door she'd escaped from just before it had a chance to close completely. I crash through the door, ignoring splinters of wood as they rain down around me, and frantically scan up and down the street, looking for my prey.

A relieved smile crosses my face as I see her hunched over at the waist a hundred paces or so up the street.

"C'mon Markus I found our directions."

I call out to my furry friend, who was lounging on a branch and nibbling at a nut, before running toward the panting woman.

"Sorry, miss. Normally, I'd let you flee in terror, but I really do need directions to the Adventurer's Guild."

"Heh. You've got a weird sense of humor, kid." the woman pants a few more times before straightening upright. "Name's Victoria. Since you got me out of a spot of trouble back there, I guess I can do that."

She trails off and looks back toward the inn, which was starting to leak a dark gray smoke through an open window. "And it looks like I'll have to find somewhere else to work. Great."

"This is Markus." I introduce my furry friend as he finishes scampering up my leg and plops down onto his perch. "And I'm Ciel."

"Ciel and a pet squirrel, gotcha."

I manage to withhold a frown at the rudeness she was showing my friend, but only because Markus seemed more interested in curling up into a ball with his tail as a pillow than taking offense. So, instead, I turn my judgment elsewhere.

"You shouldn't work at a place that serves mercenaries anyways, you know. They're the worst."

"Heh. Well, I can't argue with that."

If she knew that, then why did she serve them? Even I—a [Calamity] who had been conceived as one of the seven harbingers that would herald the death of the world—had realized that I shouldn't do things like that, so-

"Alright, let's get you to the Adventurer's Guild, and then I can get a drink and forget all about today."

"Yeah! Let's go!" I shout in agreement, my previous line of thought vanishing into the aether as I smile brightly at the woman.

I was so close to being a [Hero] that I could almost taste it.


"Hello." I smile at the receptionist sitting neatly behind her desk. "I'm Ciel."

"This is Markus." Markus perks up from his lounging repose on my shoulder and waves a furry paw.

"And this is Victoria." My guide sighs and stares off into the distance until I poke her with a finger, then she offers a polite smile.

"Markus and I are here to become adventurers, and Victoria needs a job since her old one burned down."

The receptionist takes us all in with a professional smile and nods.

"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. Since you and Markus appear under the age of eighteen, I will need to see parental authorization. As for Victoria, if she can pour drinks or clean up after adventurers, we can find something for her to do."

"My creator is dead, and I don't have a mother." I turn to Markus, and he shrugs his furry shoulders. "Markus is all by himself, too. And as long as the adventurers don't grope her, I think Victoria will be fine."

"Thanks, kid, but I can speak for myself." The former server sighs loudly. "I can't say I'm doing well enough to turn down a job, but…"

The receptionist smiles again in a way that seems somehow more real while not being even the slightest less professional. "I understand completely. Guildmaster Alis takes a dim view of that kind of crass behavior."

While Victoria nods at that, my impeccable memory perks up. Wasn't Alis the one Reitzland had brought in to drive me away for good some years back? It was good to hear that complete and utter defeat hadn't broken her spirit.

"That's great." I smile at the receptionist and then turn to Victoria, "See, I told you adventurers were better than mercenaries."

"I suppose so."

I wasn't sure why she looked so defeated as she agreed with me, but I let it go. I had a far more important task here anyway. "So, can Markus and I get our bracelets?"

"Not quite yet."

My head drops. Markus rubs his furry head against my neck, and I reach up to pet his tail. I'd be fine. 'Not quite yet.' wasn't a 'No.' I don't know what I'd have done if she'd said no, but it probably would have involved [Devourer of Dead Gods].

While I'm busy drowning in disappointment, the receptionist turns to my guide and points toward the back of the common room. "If you want to go ahead and hop behind the bar, Victoria, I'm sure the louts loitering around would appreciate it,"

My guide leaves without so much as a wave bye. However, in my state, I'm not sure that I'd have even noticed if she had. I do, however, notice when the receptionist slams two stacks of paper onto her desk.

"You two, on the other hand, have some paperwork to read. Your interview with Alis will have to wait until she gets back, but after that, you'll officially be members of the Adventurer's Guild."

I perk up with a smile and grab a ream of paper as thick as my fist—in my smaller form, at least—and quickly start flipping through pages, committing each word to my immaculate memory in an instant.

I scribble my name messily on the last page and turn to look at Markus, only to stifle the urge to fidget as I see just how much he has left to read. Instead of saying something rude to my friend, I turn my attention to the nearly empty common room.

"Where is everyone? Aren't guildhouses supposed to be full of drunk adventurers?"

"Heh, that they are." The receptionist smirks, "But there was a disturbance on Lorelai Lane… something about a pair of mercenary companies burning down an inn."

She shrugs as if to say, 'What can you do?' and I nod in agreement. Mercenaries were an untrustworthy lot. It was entirely unsurprising that they'd burned down an inn.

"So the city invoked Clause 2F and asked us to help?" I ask, already slotting myself in mentally as an adventurer since I practically was.

She raises an eyebrow, seemingly impressed that despite my skimming over the ream of adventurer regulations, I knew the correct regulation.

"Everyone of E-rank or above went to limit the collateral damage."

"That's great!" I nod, not just pleased that my fellow adventurers were so diligent in their responsibilities but that their absence would make scoping out the next member of my party that much easier—if I partnered up with someone too advanced, I'd never become a [Hero].

"Yes, well, the fires they started were threatening to spread to the rest of the neighborhood, so it's good they finally came to us for help."

I ignore that in favor of looking over at Markus, who seems to be placing his pawprint on the final page. After all, what else could you expect from a mercenary other than senseless destruction?

"Done?"

"Chirp."

"Make sure to wipe your paws first."

I hold out my hand, palm up, to stop my friend before he can hop back onto my shoulder and ruin my new scarf. Once he's wiped the ink on his paw all over the desk, I nod, and he hops back to his perch.

"Thanks…" the receptionist looks at me and then down to the streaks of ink Markus had left behind on her desk.

"You're welcome."

I smile briefly at the receptionist before casting her from my mind and turning to look at the mostly empty common room.

There were a handful of boring-looking figures—the kind of adventurers who bullied a soon-to-be [Hero] only to find themselves at said [Hero]'s mercy a few chapters later—that I almost immediately ignored. But there were three figures in the common room that seemed to deserve further scrutiny.

The first of them was a girl with dark hair and a pair of pointy, cat-like ears. While the ears were nice, almost as nice as Markus's, I was more interested in the fact that she was balancing a straight-bladed knife with one hand while she turned the pages of a book with her other. A teammate who liked to read and could multitask was definitely a plus.

The next was a blonde who had scooched together a pair of chairs, one to rest her legs on and one to slouch the rest of her body on top of. I would have dismissed her as a potential bully if it weren't for the fact that she was feeding herself with a spoon enchanted to move without her touching it. A mage was an unusual choice for a first partner—on account of their lack of durability—but then most [Heroes] weren't me.

The final person who rose above the boring milieu was a tall, muscly redhead who was now pestering Victoria for something. I would have ignored her as well, but when she went back to a table covered in empty wine bottles and beer mugs with a drink in each hand, I realized just how impressive her alcohol tolerance was—a critically important quality for any would-be adventurer.

All I had to do was pick one.

[] The catgirl with a knife

[] The lazy blonde mage

[] The drunk redhead

[AN]
It's early days for Ciel and for this quest, but I'll be taking suggestions for non-Ciel POVs for interlude chapters.