Chapter 8: The Young Hero

The forest was a dense tapestry of green, where lush foliage weighed heavily on drooping branches, and tender, unripe fruits hung low, brushing the earth.

Noi reached up, plucking a fruit just above her head and taking a tentative bite.

“Ugh! So sour!” 

Her face puckered in distaste, and with a series of “Pfft, pfft, pfft,” she spat out the tart flesh.

Earlier, to save a stranger with a severed arm, she had chosen the healing path of Raphael from the Seraph’s branches. 

After studying its abilities, Noi marveled at the skill’s miraculous power. 

Though her understanding of this world was incomplete, the reaction of the hemp-clad youth suggested that reattaching a limb was no small feat. 

Yet, within Raphael’s skill tree, the mid-tier Sequence 6 spell could regenerate a limb, and the simple Sequence 1 healing spell could reattach one—an almost absurdly effortless miracle.

As Noi wandered, her stomach growling in search of something edible, a band of robbers burst from the underbrush, snatching the fruit from her hand.

Startled from her thoughts, Noi let out a soft, puzzled “Hm?” 

Her gaze lingered uncertainly on the thieves who’d stolen her meal.

The bandit leader popped the green fruit into his mouth, chewing with a loud “crunch, crunch,” his eyes taunting her with a provocative glint. 

A moment later, his expression twisted in horror. 

The sour juice flooded his mouth, some slipping down his throat to churn his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees, retching violently.

“Boss! You okay?” the other bandits cried, startled by his reaction.

Waving them off, the leader wiped his mouth, his face darkening. 

“You venomous wench! Tricking me with that vile thing!”

Noi’s antenna-like hair swayed as she tilted her head, her soft voice calm and unbothered. 

“But… I never meant for you to eat it.”

“Boss, forget it. Let’s get to business,” one of the bandits urged.

The group’s greedy eyes roamed over Noi’s cloaked figure, imagining what curves lay beneath, eager to see if her angelic face matched an equally enticing form.

The leader nodded, approving their lecherous grins. 

Noi froze, realization dawning—she understood their vile intentions.

From the edge of the group, a young bandit watched with guilt, his heart heavy but powerless to help the white-haired girl surrounded by predators.

“Mmm…” Noi’s eyes welled with tears, and she took a few trembling steps back, edging toward the tangled thicket.

The bandits, confident their prey was cornered, saw no threat in her retreat.

Little did they know, the hunters had become the hunted.

Under her subtle guidance, the bandits crowded together, their leader’s rough, speckled hand reaching for the curve of her chest beneath the cloak. 

But then, Noi smiled.

A flash of cold steel—”Swish!”—and the leader’s hand flew through the air, severed clean.

“Aaagh!” Blood sprayed as he clutched his wrist, howling in agony.

The bandits froze in shock, giving Noi her opening. 

A small explosive rolled to their feet with a soft “clatter.”

“Boom!” 

The blast tore through the nearest bandits, leaving them bloodied and unconscious, unable to even scream.

Smoke billowed, the shockwave knocking the others to the ground. In the chaos, Noi’s figure vanished like a wisp of shadow.

“Agh!” A bandit clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain as a dagger pierced through.

Noi became a specter in the smoke, her blade slicing with surgical precision. 

When the haze cleared, only she stood, drenched in blood, while the bandits writhed in agony on the ground—none dead, but all broken.

From the bushes, the hemp-clad youth shivered, his blood running cold. 

Noi’s crimson eyes had found him, and she approached with deliberate steps.

The young bandit couldn’t fathom it—how had this pure, saintly girl, who seemed to have descended from the heavens to save the world, become a fallen angel reveling in carnage? 

These two extremes coexisted in her, a paradoxical blend of divinity and darkness.

The pressure was suffocating. 

He couldn’t move, trembling as Noi faced him.

“Why…” Her voice, ethereal and unwavering, cut through the air as her dagger traced along his neck.

“Why did you betray me? Hm?” Her tone curled upward, her head tilting with a chilling charm, but her eyes betrayed a glacial void, as empty as glass marbles.

“I-I’m sorry!” Cold sweat soaked his body as he stammered apologies, but Noi remained unmoved.

Her eyes, devoid of light, shifted the dagger’s tip to his heart.

Just as she prepared to strike, the words of Simon and Xing Chen echoed in her mind, giving her pause. 

Her grip faltered, and the blade moved to the arm she’d recently reattached.

“No, don’t!” the young bandit cried in despair.

Ignoring his pleas, Noi tore a strip of his hemp clothing and stuffed it into his mouth as a gag. 

With a swift motion, she severed the arm once more.

“Mmgh!” His muffled scream echoed as he collapsed, convulsing, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Noi sealed the wound with a light-based spell but left the arm detached. 

With a final, icy glance, she turned and walked away without looking back.

Not long after, a figure leapt from the top of a nearby banyan tree. 

A young man, clad in a blood-stained adventurer’s outfit, exuded an air of sharp competence. 

A bladeless black sword hung from his belt, unsecured by a sheath.

His features were striking—smooth, refined, with a chiseled jaw and a high nose framing lips that curved in a faint, enigmatic smile. 

Though young, his face carried the weight of countless trials, a quiet strength that steadied those around him.

The young bandit, still reeling, noticed the newcomer’s weapon and uniform. 

Struggling to speak, he gasped, “You’re… a Hero?”

The boy, dubbed a Hero, spared him a glance, confirmed his wounds were stable, and walked off in the direction Noi had gone, ignoring the question.

“Wait!” the bandit called, wincing through the pain. 

“Can you save them?”

The Hero paused, a bitter smile curling his lips, his teeth flashing with suppressed anger.

The grassland echoed with groans, blood staining the green. 

Noi had spared their lives, though some might yet succumb to their wounds.

“If you want them saved…” The Hero crouched before the panting bandit, his smile disarming yet unreadable. 

“Answer me this: why do you want to save them?”

The bandit’s lips trembled. 

“They treated me poorly, but they raised me. I owe them this, just once.”

“…Fine. I’ll do it.” The Hero’s smile was perfect, like a textbook illustration, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

He pulled small jade vials from his uniform, sprinkling white powder over the worst of the wounded. 

The bandits writhed, their screams intensifying.

“What’s happening?” the young bandit cried. 

“What did you pour on them?”

“Salt,” the Hero replied with an innocent grin.

The young bandit froze, speechless.

The bandits’ wounds, dusted with the powder, began to heal rapidly. 

Their leader, clutching his now- staunched wrist, knelt before the Hero. 

“Thank you, great Hero! You’ve saved our worthless lives!”

The others followed, mimicking their leader’s gratitude.

“No trouble at all,” the Hero said, helping the leader to his feet with a warm smile. 

“It’s what Heroes do.”

But as the leader thought they’d reached an understanding, the Hero’s tone grew cold, his smile unwavering. 

“The Demon Suppression Bureau will be here soon. I trust you’ll cooperate.”

“What? No… that’s impossible. We won’t be taken by the Bureau!” The leader’s voice trembled, recalling their ruthless methods.

The Hero’s smile stiffened. 

“What was that? Could you repeat it? I didn’t quite hear.” 

His hand drifted to the hilt of his holy sword.

The leader’s defiance crumbled. 

He knew the Empire’s Heroes were the elite among youths, even the lowest-tier boasting C-grade attributes and unyielding resolve. 

Resistance was futile.

“N-nothing,” he muttered.

“Good. Stay here and wait for the Bureau. I have to go.” The Hero turned to leave.

“Aren’t you worried we’ll escape?” the leader called after him.

“Escape?” The Hero’s voice carried a puzzled lilt. 

“A friendly tip: my sword is sharper than a dagger. If I don’t see your case logged at the nearest town’s Bureau by tomorrow, missing limbs will be the least of your worries.”

What a ruthless Hero.

The leader watched, chilled by the boy’s casual menace, realizing his presence was no less formidable than the white-haired demoness who’d preceded him.

The young Hero strode into the noonday sun, the sapphire emblem of a low-tier Hero gleaming on his chest. 

He was off to hunt Noi, to prevent a cataclysm that could end the world.