Chương 75: Those They Call Heroes

The first time Aurelis cheered for the heroes, Lena wanted to throw up. Not because of the crowd. Not only. The human capital had been built to crush the eye before it even knew where to rest. The rings of the city rose around each other like the circles of a gigantic altar. At the center, the towers of the royal palace cut into the sky. Lower down, the cathedrals of the Glass Sun threw back the light in pale shards.

Behind them rose the arches of the College, covered in seals, statues, and windows too high to be honest. Aurelis was not just a city. It was a machine for persuasion. To persuade the people that the Crown still held. To persuade the clergy that the war still had meaning. To persuade the nobles that they still owned the world. To persuade the heroes that they had arrived in the right place. Lena walked down a white avenue between Elias and Mira, with Jonah one step behind. Four heroes.

That was how the criers announced them. The four heroes from another world. The four lights summoned to answer the Dark Cycle. The four promises of humanity. Every time the number was spoken, Lena felt something twist in her chest. Four. The kingdom had learned quickly. Too quickly. It had not denied Zayn. Not officially. It had simply stopped putting him into public sentences. In internal reports, he remained: fifth summoned, missing anomaly, subject to be located.

Before the people, he had never existed long enough to be mourned. The crowd, for its part, knew almost nothing. It saw Elias, tall, straight, a bright blade at his side. It saw Mira, silent, cold, with eyes capable of cutting lies before they reached a mouth. It saw Jonah, harsher, less radiant, but solid enough to reassure those who did not believe in saints. It saw Lena, smaller, pale cloak over her shoulders, ritual threads braided around her wrists, a fragile but present smile. So it shouted.

It shouted their names as if names alone were enough to hold the walls.

"Elias!"

"Lena!"

"Mira!"

"Jonah!" Children ran behind the security ropes. Women lifted scarves. Men still bearing the marks of the eastern marches bowed with a gravity that hurt more than applause. Priests of the Glass Sun stretched out their hands toward them, as if their passage washed the air. Lena smiled. Because she had been taught to. Not in her old world. Here. In three days, she had received more lessons on how to stand before a crowd than on how to survive a monster. Keep your chin high. Do not look too long at any one person.

Never show fear before the people. Do not answer improvised blessings. Smile gently. Be approachable, but not ordinary. Be human, but already more than human. She almost hated the precision with which the kingdom manufactured symbols. Beside her, Elias was not smiling. Not really. His face stayed calm, but Lena had learned to read the tension in his jaw. He saluted when he had to. He inclined his head before the wounded. He sometimes pressed a hand to his chest when a veteran of the Marches shouted his name.

But his eyes never stopped moving. They were always searching for something in the crowd. Or someone. Jonah leaned slightly toward Mira.

"Do you think they planned a moment where we get to breathe, or is that a premium feature of the heroic program?" Mira did not turn her head.

"Breathe less loudly. The third priest on the left already thinks you lack solemnity." Jonah glanced discreetly. A round priest with wet eyes was indeed watching him with tragic intensity. Jonah sighed.

"Wonderful. Even my oxygen is being supervised." Mira replied,"Welcome to Aurelis." Lena wanted to laugh. She could not. The crowd shouted again. And for a second, the noise became something else. Not the mine. Not exactly. But a memory. Voices in Rhel-Fosse. Imitated calls. Stolen names. People shouting because they thought they heard someone they loved. Lena clenched her fingers. A pale thread almost appeared around her wrist. She forced it away. Not here. Not in front of them.

Not before the crowd that believed it was seeing a calm, luminous support heroine. A little girl threw a flower at her. Lena caught it by reflex. The crowd applauded louder. The little girl smiled as if her world had just grown larger. Lena felt the bitter taste rise in her mouth. She tightened her grip on the flower. And kept walking. The palace of Aurelis received them with walls so clean they seemed to deny the existence of mud. After the cheers came the introductions. The Crown first. Ministers. Generals.

Advisers. Men and women whose clothes were probably worth more than the villages Zayn had crossed while fleeing west. Then the clergy of the Glass Sun. White smiles. Folded hands. Shining eyes. Words about foreign light, sacred duty, the necessary purity of heroes. Then the College of Arches. Less warm. More honest, perhaps. The mages looked at them like miracles that could explode if handled badly.

They noted their breathing, their reactions to crystals, the fluctuations in their status windows, the changes in soul strength after each training session. Finally, the nobility of the Seven Circles. Lena remembered them only because they had been explained to them four separate times. The Circle of the Sword smiled mostly at Elias. The Circle of Incense looked at Lena as if she were meant to become a proper icon. The Circle of Towers wanted Mira.

The Circle of Roads had already offered Jonah three invitations, probably because a pragmatic hero was easier to turn into a commercial ally than a saint. The Circle of Cinders, meanwhile, smiled at no one. Lena felt Elias go rigid the moment they entered. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Only two representatives. An old man with a face cut by scars and a woman with black hair pulled tightly back. They bowed correctly, spoke little, observed much.

When the man let his gaze fall on the empty place between Jonah and Lena, he said nothing. That was worse. Lena knew he was thinking of Zayn. Not with concern. With calculation. Elias knew it too. The reception lasted an eternity. They were spoken to about duty. About gratitude. About accelerated training. About the old invasions. About the sixth Demon King. About the advancing cycle. About signs in the east.

They were told again and again that the world did not need lost teenagers, but heroes capable of bearing the gaze of millions. Jonah waited until the fourth dignitary told them that before muttering,"It's funny. I would have preferred a brochure before the summoning. With: congratulations, you are now the moral property of a continent." Mira replied without moving her lips,"Would you have signed?"

"Of course not. I would have read the fine print."

"There wasn't any."

"Exactly. First legal problem." Elias heard them. This time, he almost smiled. Almost. Then a general from the Circle of the Sword asked whether he would agree to demonstrate his ability before the cadets of the Military Academy the next day. The smile vanished.

"Yes," Elias answered. He did not ask why. They all knew why. The people had seen the heroes walk. Now they had to be shown that they could stand. The public training took place in the Great Court of Glass, between the Third and Second Rings. Officially, it was not a spectacle. So there were only three noble galleries, two rows of priests, fifty cadets, a section of soldiers, several mages from the College, delegations from the Circles, and enough approved civilians to fill the balconies. Not a spectacle.

A pedagogical demonstration before a few hundred carefully chosen people who would later repeat what they had seen. Jonah looked at the stands while fastening the straps on his forearms.

"I love human discretion. It arrives with banners." Mira was examining the combat mannequins set in the center of the court.

"These aren't the same as the ones in Halbreach."

"Prettier?"

"More dangerous."

"Great. I love when the capital improves the furniture that tries to kill us." The mannequins of Aurelis were College constructions: white wood, metal joints, mana cores sealed in the center of the chest. They could imitate charges, formations, coordinated attacks. Some carried blunted blades. Others shields. Two even had force-projection mechanisms to simulate weak spells. Lena stood near the healers. A priest had asked her to remain visible. Visible. Not useful. Visible.

She had agreed because refusing would have created an unnecessary discussion. But her ritual threads were ready beneath her sleeves. Sanctuary Thread had evolved since Halbreach, not by miracle, but through repetition. She understood better now how to bind a person to herself without wasting too much endurance. How to share an impact. How to transfer part of her vitality without collapsing at the first serious healing. She was not strong yet. Not like Elias. But she was less fragile in the way she protected.

That was already something. Mira, meanwhile, adjusted the fine gloves the College had lent her. Not official weapons yet. Exercise tools engraved to react to Severance Sight. Her power showed her fractures. In bodies. In spells. In materials. Sometimes in speeches. And lately, she had understood something unpleasant: the brighter a structure was, the better its cracks were hidden. Aurelis shone enormously. Jonah spun his practice staff. He had asked for a blade. They had given him a staff. He had asked why.

They had answered that a hero should not needlessly frighten civilians during a demonstration. He had looked at the armed mannequins, the soldiers, the mages, and the priests. Then he had taken the staff. Because sometimes anger costs more than temporary obedience. Elias entered the circle last. The court fell silent. It was always like that now. Before he even spoke. Before he even drew his blade. He had that presence Zayn had hated from the very first day. Natural. Not arrogant. Not forced. Not calculated.

A light that did not need to beg to be seen. Lena looked at Elias and thought, despite herself, that if this story had wanted to be simpler, he should have been its center. Then she thought of Zayn. Of his thin silhouette in the corridors of Halbreach. Of his unpleasant half-smile. Of the way he survived by looking at blind angles. The world had chosen both. That was the problem. The master-at-arms raised a hand.

"Begin." The mannequins moved. Six at first. Two attacked Elias head-on. One circled toward Jonah. Two moved for Mira. The last accelerated toward Lena. The audience tensed immediately. Lena felt the trap. Not a real trap. A staging. They wanted to show that the heroes knew how to protect their support. She hated that. She raised a hand. A pale thread shot from her wrist and attached itself to Jonah, then Mira, then Elias. Not completely. Temporary links. A fragile network.

The mannequin charging her lifted its weapon. Jonah moved. He planted his staff into the ground.

"Line: you don't pass." The air before him hardened. Not like a visible wall. Like a rule. The mannequin slowed abruptly, its mana core straining against an invisible constraint. Lineholder. The stronger the enemy, the more the rule cost. The weaker it was, the more absurd the rule became. Against an exercise mannequin, Jonah held easily. He then struck the knee, then the shoulder. The mannequin fell.

"There," he muttered.

"Pedagogy through furniture humiliation." Mira did not need that many motions. Her eyes changed. No dramatic light. Only a cold concentration. She saw the fracture in the first mannequin: left joint, badly sealed connection between wood and metal. She struck with two fingers reinforced by the College glove. The entire arm locked. The second raised a blade. Mira shifted half a step, struck the core through the wooden cage, exactly where the seal held a poorly distributed tension. The mannequin collapsed.

In the stands, several mages leaned forward. Not pure admiration. Intellectual greed. Mira saw it. And disliked it. Elias, in the center, received the first two opponents. He did not destroy them immediately. He redirected them. A strike of the blade against a shield. A rotation. A step forward forcing the second to change angle. He placed himself between the mannequins and the cadets lined behind him. Always. Always in front. The College activated the second level. Four new mannequins entered. Then two more.

The crowd murmured. The cadets stepped back despite themselves. Elias glanced briefly at Lena. She felt that glance through the thread. Not a request. A confirmation. She nodded. Elias planted his blade into the ground. A pale light spread before him in a clear line. Not large. Not dazzling. But clean. Dawnline. The cadets behind him felt the pressure before they understood it. Their shields rose better. Their shoulders straightened. Their legs stopped trembling. Jonah threw a glance at Elias.

"Of course. Mister 'I turn even exercises into luminous sermons.'" But he was almost smiling. The mannequins charged. The line held. Lena felt the cost through her thread. Not a wound. A weight. Elias was not creating a free defense. He was offering a center. A temporary reason not to yield. Those standing behind him could hold better, but only if they accepted holding with him. It was not a barrier. It was a brief oath. The first wave hit. The cadets bent. Did not break.

Elias tore his blade from the ground and moved the exact moment the enemy pressure decreased. Mira shattered one of the mannequins at his flank. Jonah imposed a new line on the one trying to circle. Lena pulled on her threads to absorb the shock received by a cadet who had stepped too far forward. The crowd held its breath. Then the last mannequin fell. Silence. One second. Two. Then the stands erupted. Applause. Cries. Prayers. Names. Elias pulled his blade from the mechanical chest of the last mannequin.

He was breathing hard. Not much. Enough for Lena to understand that he had given more than the public could see. The master-at-arms raised Elias's hand. The court shouted louder.

"The Hero of Dawn!"

"Elias Ward!"

"Standard of Dawn!"

"The light still holds!" Mira was acclaimed next, for precision. Jonah, for the line held. Lena, for the protective threads that had saved a cadet from a brutal fall. They were given words. Temporary titles. Flowers. Looks. Promises. Lena felt the bitter taste again. Stronger than that morning. Because this time, they had succeeded. They had really succeeded. They had coordinated. Protected. Progressed. Earned part of the applause. And that was exactly why it hurt. Success did not wash failure away.

It only dressed it better. Later, in a side chamber of the College, the four heroes were alone for the first time since dawn. Not for long. Solitude was a rare resource in Aurelis. Jonah sat directly on a marble table.

"If one more person tells me I embody humanity's moral wall, I'm going to embody a chair and never get up again." Mira removed her training gloves.

"You held well." Jonah looked at her.

"I know. That's what annoys me. Now they're going to ask for more."

"Yes."

"You could lie for general comfort."

"No." Lena set the little girl's flower on the table. It had survived the day, somewhat crushed. Like them. Elias stood by the window. Outside, Aurelis shone. He finally said,"They stopped saying five." No one answered. The sentence needed no explanation. Jonah lowered his eyes. Mira looked at the door, as if checking they were really alone. Lena clasped her hands. Elias continued,"This morning, during the march. Every time. Four heroes. Four lights. Four promises." His voice stayed calm. That was almost worse.

"They don't know," Lena said.

"No," Mira replied.

"But the people who do know are letting them say it." Jonah exhaled.

"Because five would force them to explain the fifth. And explaining Zayn gets complicated very quickly." Lena turned toward him.

"He is not a complication." Jonah met her gaze. Not cruelly. Tired.

"Lena. To us, no. To them, yes." She wanted to answer. Found nothing that did not sound like a prayer. Elias placed a hand against the glass.

"Somewhere, he might still be alive." Mira did not say maybe not. She could have. She did not. Jonah did not either. Lena looked at the flower.

"And we're here." The sentence came out lower than she wanted.

"We eat at their tables. We train with their masters. We receive cloaks, weapons, smiles. People thank us for things we haven't even done yet." She looked up.

"And him…" She did not finish. Because no one in the room knew exactly where to place Zayn in a sentence. Dead. Fugitive. Victim. Danger. Future traitor. Fifth hero. Mistake. All the words were too small or too dangerous. Mira finally spoke.

"The kingdom has not forgotten Zayn." Lena looked at her. Mira added,"It has stored him away. That is not the same thing." Jonah gave a humorless laugh.

"You manage to make things worse by being exact. It's almost a secondary power." Mira ignored him.

"To the Crown, he is a risk. To the College, an anomaly. To the clergy, a doctrinal threat if they learn too much. To the Cinders, probably a badly closed debt." Elias asked,"And to us?" The silence returned. Long. Lena answered first.

"Someone we left behind." Jonah closed his eyes.

"We didn't leave him behind on purpose."

"I know."

"Then don't say it like—""I know." He fell silent. Because she knew. That was exactly the problem. Elias turned toward them.

"I'm going to become stronger." Jonah opened his eyes.

"Elias…"

"Not for the cheering. Not for the nobles. Not for the priests." He looked at his blade.

"So that the next time an institution decides a person must be recovered, confined, or erased, I won't have to ask permission to stop them." Mira stared at him.

"That is a dangerous sentence."

"I know."

"No," she said softly.

"Not yet. But you'll learn." Jonah ran a hand over his face.

"Fantastic. The luminous hero discovers political disobedience. We're all progressing." This time Lena let out a small laugh. Faint. But real. Even Mira seemed to breathe a little easier. Then someone knocked on the door. Three times. Solitude ended. A mage of the College entered, followed by an officer of the Crown.

"Hero Ward. Heroine Calder. Heroine Hart. Hero Price. The council awaits you for the evaluation report." Four names. Four titles. The sentence passed over them like a layer of varnish. Elias picked up his blade. Mira put her gloves back on. Jonah stepped down from the table, muttering something about councils and enemy chairs. Lena took the crushed flower and slipped it into her sleeve. They went out together. In the corridor, several young cadets watched them pass with admiration.

Lena felt the weight of their eyes. She straightened. Because they needed heroes. Because the kingdom really would have to face the Demon King. Because the people cheering them were not responsible for everything the institutions hid. Because saving lives still mattered, even when one life had slipped through their fingers. But when the council doors opened, Lena still felt that bitter taste in her mouth. And this time, she knew the others tasted it too.