— Wow, you’re Level 13?! That’s impressive! Just two more levels, and you could have gotten an officer position in the army even as a commoner, right, Saul?

  — Indeed, Sir Prince. In fact, the average Level of the current army is seven, so it was truly a pity that we were unable to retain such a skilled warrior within our forces.

  — Oh, please, friend, you don't have to call me "Mr. Prince" all the time, we're companions, remember?

  Saul smiled placidly as he heard the prince's words.

  — But isn't that a very low Level? I mean, my husband is at Level-

  — Crown Princess, please, comparing common people to Veronico is a bit... — Saulo interrupted, giving me an empathetic look.

  — Hmm... You're right, I guess. After all, my husband is the strongest Hero in the world!

  Yes, so I saw myself at a table having afternoon tea with none other than the Hero himself, Veronico, the Magician who accompanied him on his campaign, Saulo, and the Crown Princess of the crown of the Sacred Kingdom of Fanon, the only daughter of the Queen who ruled alone, by tradition Veronico's wife, Criscina.

  Despite the relaxed posture of my coffee companions and the absurdly beautiful garden we found ourselves in, which contained exactly 14 flowers of each species on the continent, one for each Hero who had ever sat on the throne of the Kingdom's consort, I found myself at the very least tense.

  They were all extremely handsome, especially Veronico, and despite those two having fought the most difficult battles of the last war, they did not have a single scar, and were at least two heads taller than even the guards positioned at strategic points in the garden: the Hero had long white hair, a unique trait among our species whose hair color varied from a straw-colored blond, like mine, to an almost shining, solar blond, like Criscina's; his face had features sharper than any weapon I have ever wielded, and his body was sculpted muscular so that even through the many layers of expensive clothes he wore, his flawless contours stood out. In fact, next to his abnormally handsome friend, Saulo did not even seem to have an ordinary appearance, and I had to remember my own disfigured image in order to recall realistic expectations about someone's appearance, for the Magician was also attractive, with a close-cropped golden hairdo and very piercing eyes, despite the glasses (a luxury) he wore.

  Naturally, the Crown Princess was not left behind by her companions, with hair of a practically sparkling yellow, features delicate as glass, and proportions that made poets tear up their works, puzzled while trying to describe the woman's beauty and failing miserably.

  — Haha... thanks — I took long sips of tea in order to keep my mouth shut for as long as possible and avoid talking nonsense.

  Nonsense like the fact that I had been rejected from the official ranks of the army even though I was three Levels above average because most of the soldiers who remained in the kingdom's official military, even those of lower ranks, were second and third sons of lesser nobles, bastards from influential houses, and those with enough funds to buy the position.

  — Still, Criscina, a normal person has 3 points in each Attribute—as the Hero explained the numbers to his wife, I glanced at the powerful Mage across the table, but he didn’t react to the mention of Attributes. — And considering that they receive 1 Attribute point for each new Level, Haicard is about four times more powerful than an ordinary person!

  — Wow! You are so smart, husband! — the princess applauded her husband with a smile on her face. — I bet you would be an excellent navigator. Why don't you join me on my next sailing trip?

  — Ahaha, sorry, Criscina, but I promised to hunt a minotaur to make a gift of armor for that guard who helped me with the pegasus last time.

  — Oh. Of course.

  — Still, a Shadow Baron, even the weakest among them all, should be many times more powerful than even Haicard — Saulo asked, putting down his empty cup and looking at me inquisitively. — May I know exactly how did you defeat Baron Zelvon, Haicard?

  — I used a food elevator to transport a series of fire tomes with their last spell activated to the rooms the enemy used— I shrugged.

  — Wha- Pff! Sorry. Very clever, sir — Saulo smiled slightly at my explanation, while the Hero looked at me with an expression of genuine surprise. — I think if Landa were here, she would laugh at this much more than I did.

  — It's a good thing that ple- uhm... woman isn't here — the princess didn't approve at all of the comment and mention of the other member of the Hero's team.

  — Wow, Haicard, so you're the smart type? Full of strategies, huh?

  — Sir Prince Hero, I am an ordinary person and I usually work alone. Approaching situations head-on is often not even an option.

  — Hahaha! That’s not true, right? I mean, you’re a special-rank adventurer now, a member of a select elite of monster hunters.

  — ...Yeah. I guess I can't just call myself a “normal person” anymore, can I?

  — That makes me curious, Haicard—the Hero smiled, resting his elbow on the table and one cheek on his own fist.

  — Oh, oh, here he comes — the princess sighed softly in a tired tone.

  — Do you think you could defeat, say... a Shadow Viscount?

  — It depends on the situation — I shrugged. — And what resources are available to me.

  — Just the two of you in a direct confrontation! Any magical equipment available in the shops in this capital, you choose the terrain, date and time!

  — No.

  — Eh? But... — Veronico seemed, surprisingly, disappointed.

  — There is no magical equipment for sale, or terrain advantage that would allow me to win a fight against someone with Attributes reaching 40 points, Sir Prince Hero.

  — So, in what kind of situation would you win?

  I thought seriously for a moment before answering.

  — Assuming as the arena a castle or palace or closed building with an underground area, and having as my objective only the elimination of the opponent, and having as the Viscount's objective my death and at the same time the preservation of the structure itself, the minimum conditions for victory would be... fifty hundred-liter wooden barrels filled with seawater, sixty tomes of electric-type magic, and about a hundred oil and fire arrows.

  — Considering the kind of charge we had to take to take down these enemies, the price you're asking almost sounds too good to be true. And while I admit that electrocuting the Viscount and then burning him once he was weak would do him some damage, I think you underestimate the power of these enemies. Well, it's not a surprise, since only my companions and I, throughout the entire war, were the only ones to take down monsters of this Level, but I've seen a Viscount completely single-handedly decimate a squad of two hundred Level 6 soldiers, you know? — the Hero leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, trying to hide his boredom and failing.

  — I knew it! My husband is the strongest! — the princess applauded, laughing. — Indeed, I need your protection while sailing, my husband.

  — I'm sure that's true, Mr. Prince Hero, but that wasn't my plan — my comment seemed to interest Veronico. — I would electrocute him, yes, but only as a measure to paralyze him. Although he wouldn't suffer much damage, I imagine that his muscles would contract, preventing him from moving while electrocuted. I would cast an Electric Spell every two seconds, assuming a paralysis time of two minutes for each tome, or one hour in total, and at the same time I would shoot an arrow of oil and flames at the Viscount's face, in the expectation that the flames would consume any air that could reach his mouth or nose.

  — Y-You would suffocate him with carbon monoxide...?!

  I had no idea what this “carbon monoxide” thing was, but I agreed:

  — Yes, even assuming that this enemy is, say, 15 times stronger than an average person, the longest an average person is able to hold their breath is two minutes. I wouldn't be surprised if the Viscount could withstand this treatment for thirty minutes, but I think an hour is a reasonable amount of time to assume death by asphyxiation.

  Strangely, with each new word that came out of my mouth, the smile on the Hero's mouth grew bigger.

  — Hahahaha! Brilliant! Did you hear that, Saulo? We should put this guy in the rank of general!

  — Really... if we were still at war.

  — No, you can't, husband! All the general ranks are already occupied by Dukes of the Kingdom.

  — Hmm... Maybe some commander position?

  — They are already full of children of our own Viscounts, husband.

  — Hmmmmmmmmmm! — Veronico seemed to be thinking deeply, until his friend rested a hand on his shoulder.

  — Prince, remember, we have already rewarded Haicard with the title of special class adventurer, and even a cash reward — turning to me, clearly happy with my success in entertaining his friend, Saulo said: — I'm sorry about that, sometimes he can be a bit... too focused on matters of battle.

  — It's okay, it's an honor to hear all this from our future king, honestly.

  — Alright, just one more question then! — The Hero placed both hands on the table top, with a wide smile on his face. — Could you defeat me?

  For a minute, even the butterflies in the garden sat motionless, the wind stopped blowing, and a cloud covered the sun.

  — ...Not without divine help, I assure you, Sir Prince Hero — after my answer, everyone except Veronico laughed, the butterflies went back to wandering around the garden, and the sun began to shine again.

  — I see — the Hero sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  One question kept nagging at me like an annoying flea, however, and while my common sense was screaming at me not to ask that question, I already found myself in a situation far beyond any common sense.

  — Sir Prince Hero, if you will allow me, I would like to ask you a question as well.

  — Of course, Haicard, it would be unfair if I were the only one here asking questions.

  — ...May I know what your Attributes are like?

  — Hmpm! Typical of a commoner, without any good manners — the Princess frowned, and that question could indeed earn me a good hundred lashes on the back.

  — Alright, no problem — thankfully, however, the Hero was as merciful and understanding a man as the rumors said. He moved his fingers in the air, interacting with the System window visible only to himself, and within seconds, his data was displayed to me.

  Name: Veronico Leonico Victoriam

  Potential: Unique

  Level: 78

  Strength: 245

  Perception: 173

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  Occultism: 88

  — Thanks to my Hero Title, I gain 5 points per Level, and on top of that I have a few more Titles that influence my Attributes, so the math might not seem to add up at first glance.

  His weakest Attribute, Occultism, placed him above any other Mage in all of álfheim, even his companion Saulo; the Hero alone should be able to conjure magical attacks capable of destroying entire small cities. And his Strength was such that any challenge I could imagine for him would be trivially overcome. The elite of the shadow forces, and even legendary monsters such as giants, krakens and sphinxes, capable of devastating small nations completely, so powerful that their remains manufactured magical items that were nothing short of legendary, would be little more than a mere distraction. That man alone was far beyond the capabilities of any army, to the point that a thousand, ten thousand, and a hundred thousand opponents would mean only one difference from an overwhelming victory that would cost him five, ten, or thirty minutes. And all of this without counting the sacred sword in the shape of a dove guard at his waist, forged from the remains of Heroes of the past, empowering his Spells and unique Hero Abilities.

  — ...Impressive — I stood up and bowed to the future king. — Thank you very much for listening to this mere adventurer's whimsical wish.

  — Hohoho! It seems another soul is shaken upon realizing your true power, Sir Prince Hero — an old man wearing a simple, brown hooded cloak crossed the garden with a friendly smile and scratching his own beard, which reached down to his navel.

  — Master historian! — Veronico stood up and hugged the elderly elf.

  — I am sorry to interrupt, Prince, Princess, Lord Saul, but our guest also has duties to fulfill towards the guilds, and we would hate to delay him.

  — Oh, of course. Adventurers, always needing to go everywhere, right? Haha, you know? I was once an adventurer like you, until I got shot in the knee by an arrow! — Confused, I looked at the Hero's perfectly healthy knee and then at his face that displayed a radiant smile, but I found no response from Veronico, his wife or friend. — Bah! Everyone would laugh at that where I come from. Anyway, bye-bye, Haicard! Let's talk again sometime!

  — ...I'm sure you will, Mr. Prince Hero. — I bowed one last time and followed the bearded old man out of the garden. — I have to admit, I don't know what's more impressive, the fact that I just had tea with Prince Hero, or the fact that the master historian himself is serving as my guide in the royal castle at this very moment.

  — Hohoho, there's nothing to be impressed by about this old servant of the royal family performing menial tasks like this. I'm just an old scholar who's kept by the royal family more for fond memory than my actual usefulness.

  — But that's not true. You're the one who insists that royal orders are carried out, aren't you? You were even the Queen's spokesman during the Holy War.

  — Hoho, as expected of a former soldier of our glorious God-chosen Kingdom. Perhaps we have crossed paths in the camps during this last campaign?

  So we left the Prince and Princess's private garden and approached the couple's chambers, passing through a hallway where works of art decorated both walls, depicting members of the royal family. Just as I had noticed when I was first guided through that space, there were no guards around. Of course, the Hero didn't need guards, but he was also known for being somewhat eccentric, oblivious to the country's traditions even, and it was no surprise that he preferred to keep servants away from the chambers he shared with his wife. We approached the more inland corners of the castle.

  — Haha, not directly, of course, but I have seen you, master historian, from afar. It is truly impressive how you manage to fulfill political, religious, and scholarly functions, and still command an entire order. I would imagine, from your title, that the task of studying those strange ruins would take up most of your time. Those buildings have always fascinated me, you know?

  — As to me. Truly, those buildings are wonders left behind as a testament to God's power.

  — Of course. Oh, and this is your office, correct? — I stopped following the bearded old man down the hallway, remembering the explanations of the castle’s structure he had given me when he led me to the Hero’s garden. I entered the chambers.

  — Sir adventurer? — the master historian sounded confused, offended by the inappropriate behavior of a guest. He soon followed me into the office. — Your curiosity is admirable, but please, this place contains real secrets and data that cannot be revealed to the public...

  The place was small, surprisingly small for a room in the royal palace, for the office of one of the most important men in the entire nation, and incredibly austere, containing only half a dozen shelves of old books, a desk, and a pile of straw that served as a bed. On the desk, however, rested a book that stood out from all the others: its cover was pure gold and displayed a ruby ??eye from which letters in opal and sapphire weeped, forming the word...

  — Huh? I can't read — I smiled, touching the book.

  — Sir! — The bearded elf quickly took the extremely heavy book from my hands with obvious difficulty. — You need to leave right now. I will call a guard to escort you out, so please wait patiently outside this room!

  — This is the artifact, isn't it? The thing you use to know when a new Shadow King emerges.

  — …Eh? — the old man expressed genuine perplexity, raising his eyebrows so high that they almost touched his gray hair.

  — That is one of your duties, isn’t it? Although it is not widely publicized, in order to avoid assassination attempts. That is why you disguise your royal duties from the public, and why you act as a mere servant and guide to me in this castle. After all, it would be terrible to lose the only person capable of reading the book of “God” before she could transfer her knowledge to one of her disciples — while revealing some of the secrets to me that were partly shared, partly understood by myself, I couldn’t help but smile even more when mentioning the nation’s patron deity.

  — Like you-?

  — Why don’t you try reading it now? — I suggested, making the old man take a step back. — Or would you rather do that other job of yours? To make those who discover too much disappear? — The master historian’s face paled even more than the gray of his hair and beard, his expression of horror now clearer than the ivory pages of the book he was lifting with difficulty, his jaw dropped, his eyes wide.

  The old man tried to run to the door we had entered by, but I caught up with him before he could take even two steps, and I covered his mouth with my hand.

  — Summon Blade — I cast a spell that created an iron knife with my own magical stamina, and it didn't take long for me to stick it just below the old man's last rib in the back, piercing his kidney once, twice, three times.

  I slowly laid my bleeding victim on the floor and watched all the countless questions reflect in his rapidly fading eyes. That is, until an unsettling third presence appeared in the room.

  — You won’t win my favor, no matter what kind of theater you put on now. It’s not as funny once you become self-aware — the soft, commanding voice, feminine and masculine, elven and immortal, and all at the same time, sounded bored behind me. And when the master historian looked in the direction of the entity behind me, he seemed to understand everything that was happening... only to sink into even deeper terror seconds before his last breath.

  — Tch! — I clicked my tongue. — You could have told me that before, I would have saved about five minutes of my life and killed this old man much faster.

  I stood up, locked the front door to the room, and began to search the room, completely ignoring the tall, androgynous elven figure sitting cross-legged at the desk, a being even taller than Veronico, and even more ethereal, his locks long as starlight, his eyes abysses of unfathomable darkness, wearing what looked like robes of mist and liquid gold.

  What I was looking for must have been hidden somewhere in that room, something worthy of the interest of that same entity that was watching me boredly.

  — And why would I do that? Your attempt to increase your Potential was quite interesting, after all. In a different situation, you would receive at least a little bit of my favor.

  — Look, if it won't help, it won't get in the way — I quickly pulled the old, uninteresting books from the shelves; they were tax records, land ownership acknowledgements, and other things that were of no interest to me.

  — If you are concerned about our voices being heard by the castle's inhabitants, I am taking appropriate measures to ensure that this is not the case, of course. If I had wanted you to die because of my interference, after all, I would have prepared a much more poetically satisfying fate for you.

  — Aha! — Ignoring the entity, as I pulled one of the books, I felt abnormal resistance, and without fail, with a click, the bookshelf began to move. As a dark staircase revealed itself behind the bookshelf, I took the golden book-shaped artifact and stored it under my cloak.

  — Curious. How did you know there would be a secret passage? — The entity slowly followed me down the stairs, the path hidden behind the shelf.

  — We have fictions of our own creation, so I just noticed similarities between the tastes of my culture and yours, and assumed this would be the most interesting option for you — reaching the basement, I came across an immensity of total darkness beyond the contours of the door in front of me.

  — Hmph. Indeed, it seems that in your childhood, you did witness street performances that involved stories of secret passages in castles: the semi-fantastic biography of Uros, my first champion, and the one who created the speech that generated the mission you accepted when joining the Sacred League. Even if those performers got almost all of their lines wrong, at least they didn't forget this element of the story — the entity commented lightly, and even though I already had an idea of ??the extent of its power, I instinctively looked over my shoulder and at its face. Had it searched my memories? But I definitely didn't remember every single line of dialogue from the play; the last part of its comment was almost as if it had returned to the past just to witness my younger self and the play firsthand. — What did I just do? — it mocked me while its expression was as unchanged as ever, as if carved from ice.

  I shook my head, giving up on trying to understand the entity, and turned my attention back to the task at hand, looking for a torch, or candle, or any other way to light the room beyond.

  To my left, I noticed, there was also a sort of tiny lever framed in the wall, and I was able to lift it with a single finger: instantly, the secret room and the real office of the master historian were illuminated by glass cylinders fixed to the ceiling, which seemed to imprison rays within themselves.

  — Now, that is more like the man who controlled this Kingdom from the shadows — I entered the secret room, and found myself surrounded by marble statues of people almost identical to us elves, but with rounded, short ears, and rougher features, their figures wearing golden clothes, and their eyes shining with large diamonds. I saw brightly colored carpets made from the skin of bizarre animals that did not exist anywhere in álfheim, I saw countless works of art, glass cabinets full of wine jars older than the Kingdom of Fanon itself, and luxuries of all kinds. Entering a door on the left, I found what I was looking for: — Here are the real books — thick volumes of all kinds, with simple and complex covers, with opaque and bright colors. — I can't read them. Is it the ancient language?

  — Hmm, could it be? — the entity disinterestedly leafed through the volumes around me. It was useless to try to extract any information from it, it was adamant in its impartiality.

  — There must be something here in Elvish, study material for young initiates in the order of historians, or notes from some academic — I went to the rich desk in the center of the room and rummaged through its drawers, I found something interesting. — “Comprehensive Guide to the History of álfheim, by Elarico Milemario Saudoso”.

  — Convenient, isn't it? — Could that also be part of the entity's schemes? — Why do you care, you found what you were looking for.

  — I'd rather you stopped reading my thoughts — I frowned, staring at the book. Was it a trap? Something the entity planted there just before I opened the drawer in order to misinform me?

  — I thought you had already accepted my impartiality, — the being sighed. — I understand that you would have taken the book without question if it weren’t for me, so I will make this one exception and tell you this: this book is part of the order’s tradition. In order to become a master, candidates for such a position must write a volume containing their entire understanding of the history of this continent, which is evaluated by the current leader of the order. And this book you hold in your hands now was written by the corpse upstairs.

  I tucked the book away under my cloak, next to the golden volume. I then returned to the spacious main room of the underground hideout and opened all the other doors, exploring the other rooms thoroughly. Sure enough, in a room with a heart-shaped bed, lots of alcohol and hallucinogenic roots displayed in glass cabinets, as well as whips and handcuffs hanging on the walls, I found another corridor, which seemed to go on for many minutes, perhaps even hours.

  — Shouldn't you be desperately trying to fight off the guards and the Hero in a futile attempt to escape the castle instead of wasting any more time exploring an old man's fetishistic chambers? The scent of your victim's blood may have been picked up by the future king at this point.

  — Couldn't you just read my thoughts to get the answer you want?

  —You have enough notion of my aims to know that such a method is not to my liking.

  — First of all, fourteen generations of Heroes have passed through this castle, and none of these monarchs have ever known about this underground area, which means there must be some kind of effect that camouflages the events of the Master Historian's office. And secondly, if the old man wants to transport his statues, drugs, and women in and out of the castle, I doubt he would use the main gate. So, if my assumption is correct... — reaching the end of the very long corridor, I climbed a staircase of about twenty feet and reached a simple wooden door. Opening it carefully, I found myself in what looked like the stinking interior of a wardrobe, and when I left the interior of the furniture, I found myself in a filthy brothel room. — There must be a safe and discreet exit from the hideout to the outer city — so, I left the royal castle without any difficulty.

  ?

  — And where are you going now? — asked the entity as I left a pawn shop, having sold its golden artifact for about six months' salary as an adventurer.

  — Make some preparations — stopping in a dark alley in a suspicious neighborhood of the capital, I looked over my shoulder and at the white castle with architecture that imitated the one seen in Paradise. The home of the current Queen, her daughter and the current Hero. Frowning, I opened my attributes.

  Name: Wrong Way Haicard

  Level: 13

  Potential: Free

  Strength: 11

  Perception: 10

  Occultism: 5

  Titles: Fallen Special Adventurer,

  Fallen Warrior Deacon,

  King of Shadows,

  Master of Whispers.

  — Whether we like it or not, we have an agreement. I have the Mission to defeat the current Hero.

  — And yet, just a few hours ago, you yourself said that such a task would be impossible without divine help. For I will not help you, and there is not a single place on this continent where you can attempt to escape my influence and break our agreement.

  — Only a complete fool would try to deceive a thing like you. No, I know very well that you will not increase my Attributes to fight your champion, in this agreement we are enemies after all. Yes, MY Attributes will not be blessed by any deity.

  The master historian’s body was only found a day after I had already left the capital, and three days later, the guards found the artifact I had sold at the pawn shop. That, combined with my apparent disappearance before leaving the castle and the pawnbroker’s testimony of my partially disfigured face, formed a picture of easy pieces to fit together: in less than a week, I had become the most wanted criminal in the country, for the crime of high treason, the murder of a member of the court, and the theft of an artifact of royal property.

  A significantly better scenario than being sought out across the continent as the new Shadow King, in my opinion: I had enough time and freedom to make a short visit to Calda Lente, and from there follow a path that involved few stops in small villages, and no other large cities, despite the greatness of the figure I planned to meet.