CHAPTER 6: The Lone Hero
"Proceed," the king commanded.
At once, the crowd before the heroes shifted into motion. One by one, young men and women began walking forward, forming neat lines behind Jin, Rae, Doma, and Aiden. Excitement buzzed in the air, a mixture of pride and anticipation.
Zodac turned slightly, glancing behind him — only to find empty space. Not a single person had chosen to stand with him.
He smirked faintly. Figures.
He'd always worked better alone. This would be no different.
Rae noticed and frowned. "Hey, Aiden, you've got more people than the rest of us combined. Maybe lend him a couple?"
Aiden scoffed, brushing a hand through his slick blond hair. "No way. People know what they want — and apparently, they don't want him."
The king's deep voice rose above the murmurs.
"Does anyone wish to follow the Hero of Wood?"
The hall fell into silence. Dozens of eyes glanced at Zodac, then quickly away again.
Just as the tension began to thicken—
"I would, your Majesty."
Every head turned. A clear, feminine voice rang from the line of attendants. It was the same woman from before — the one with the light blue eyes and red-tinted hair. She stepped forward confidently, her armor glinting under the sunlight streaming through the stained glass.
Aiden's jaw nearly dropped. What is she thinking? he wondered bitterly. Am I invisible or something?
The king nodded approvingly. "Very well, then—"
"Ha," Zodac interrupted lazily, staring up at the ornate ceiling.
"The evilest girls have the prettiest face"
His words sliced through the hall. A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd, and the woman's expression faltered, color draining from her cheeks.
"SILENCE!" the king thundered. His voice echoed off the marble walls, and the room froze so completely that the faint rustle of a banner could be heard.
Zodac exhaled slowly. "You know what, Your Majesty," he said, voice calm but cold. "I think I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."
He turned to leave, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket.
"Listen to yourself," Jin called out. "Without a party, you won't survive the next wave. You'll be dead before you know it."
Zodac stopped at the threshold. Slowly, he turned his head just enough for his eyes to meet theirs.
"That's the plan," he said flatly.
The knight by the door hesitated, uncertain, then opened it. Zodac walked out into the corridor without another word, leaving behind a hall full of whispers and confusion.
Later That Day
The city of Sundara's capital was alive with color and sound. Vendors shouted over each other in crowded streets, merchants displayed gleaming weapons, and the scent of roasted meat and burning incense filled the air.
Zodac moved through the bustle quietly, his hood drawn low. His crimson eyes drew too many stares, and the crystal embedded in his chest pulsed faintly through his shirt — an uninvited reminder of his otherworldly status.
Everywhere he went, people's gazes followed him — curious, wary, and sometimes fearful. He could feel it crawling on his skin.
"First thing's first," he muttered to himself. "I need armor. A weapon. Something to make me look less… exposed."
He stopped a passerby. "Excuse me, could you tell me where to find—"
The man walked past without so much as a glance.
Zodac frowned and tried again, this time with a woman carrying a basket of herbs.
"Hey, sorry, do you know any blacksmiths nearby?"
She didn't even slow down.
A chill pricked his neck. It was like they didn't see him — or worse, didn't want to.
He walked for a while longer until his eyes caught a large wooden sign hanging above a stone building. A heavy clang echoed from within — the rhythmic song of hammer against metal.
Finally. A blacksmith.
He pushed the door open and was instantly hit by the scent of iron and oil. Inside, the walls were lined with weapons of every kind: swords, daggers, axes, even nunchaku — an oddity in a world ruled by blades and shields.
"Hey there, kiddo!" a rough voice boomed from behind the counter.
The shopkeeper was a stout man with a bald head, a thick brown beard, and arms like tree trunks. "You here to buy something or just drool over my handiwork?"
Zodac smirked. "Armor and a weapon."
The man nodded, reaching under the counter for a large rolled parchment. He spread it across the table, revealing detailed sketches of armor designs — each labeled with strange symbols and brief descriptions.
"Pick your poison," the blacksmith said proudly.
Zodac studied the sheet carefully. His fingers hovered over the designs until he found one that spoke to him — brutal, simple, efficient.
"This one," he said, tapping the illustration.
"Ah," the blacksmith grinned. "Barbarian armor. Good choice — solid defense, decent mobility. Not the fastest, but you'll live through a hit or two. That'll be two hundred silvers."
Zodac reached into his pouch and dropped the coins on the counter with a metallic clink.
The man's eyes widened slightly. "Heh. Guess you're serious. All right, come back tomorrow. I'll have it ready."
"Got it." Zodac nodded, then glanced at the walls lined with weapons. Something sleek caught his attention — a katana, black-sheathed and perfectly balanced on its stand. It looked out of place, yet… familiar.
He stepped closer, running his fingers along the hilt.
"This could work," he murmured. "How much—"
The words froze in his throat as pain exploded through his right hand. A crackling surge of lightning erupted from his palm, arcing through the air and dancing along the blade.
"Ahhh!" he shouted, stumbling back. The energy pulsed violently, and for an instant the crystal in his chest flared bright, casting black shadows across the room.
The blacksmith froze, eyes wide. "Kid—what the hell—?!"
Zodac dropped the weapon, clutching his burning hand. The blade clattered to the ground, its edge sparking faintly before the light faded.
Then, without warning, a glowing text panel materialized before his eyes:
Zodac's breath caught.
"What the hell is this?" he whispered.
The panel blinked once, then vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The air is still hummed with static. The blacksmith's face had gone pale, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the crystal embedded in Zodac's chest.
Zodac flexed his fingers, feeling the faint ache of lingering electricity. His thoughts were a blur of confusion and anger.
"What did I just trigger…?"
For the first time since his arrival in this world, he felt something heavier than doubt — a sense that he didn't belong here in more ways than one.