Lisa's POV:
I hate myself. The bitter taste of self-loathing coats my tongue, a familiar and unwelcome guest.
I was just a normal girl, starved and thin, living a simple life in our small, rural village. The winter had been harsh; our food stores depleted, our foresight lacking. Forty days and forty nights I endured, sustained only by water. It was a long, agonizing ordeal. I felt the gnawing emptiness in my belly, a constant, burning ache that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The world swam in and out of focus, replaced by the shimmering distortions of starvation-induced hallucinations.
A woman. Her beauty was breathtaking, otherworldly. Blonde hair, like spun gold, seemed to float around her as she herself drifted in the air. Her eyes, pools of golden radiance, held me captive. For a heart-stopping moment, I believed I had truly died.
"In times of great need, you'll be there. The help that the people will heed," she whispered, her voice like the chime of distant bells.
"Huh?" I gasped, my mind struggling to grasp the meaning. A prophecy? A delusion?
"..." Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the frantic thump of my own heart.
"What else?" I pressed, desperate for answers, for clarity. The vision dissolved, leaving me in the chilling silence of my own despair. Then, a strange lightness flooded my body, a surge of unexpected energy.
I had gained a power. A B-grade aptitude, they called it. For a fleeting moment, I envisioned a life transformed, a life of fame and ease. I imagined myself basking in the glow of recognition, my struggles finally over. I thought this was my chance to shine, to escape the crushing weight of poverty and hardship.
But that dream shattered like fragile glass.
The moment I revealed my newfound ability to my family and the villagers, their reverence turned into an oppressive weight of expectation. They no longer saw me as Lisa, their neighbor, their friend. I became their goddess, their personal healer, a source of endless demands. They flocked to our house, clamoring for my help, their pleas echoing in my ears. They didn't even offer payment, their entitlement a suffocating blanket.
What could I do? Rejection meant isolation, a fate I couldn't bear. Until, finally, I reached my breaking point. I fled the village, seeking escape from the suffocating expectations. But my escape only fueled their desperation, their demands growing even louder, echoing in my mind. They wanted me to save them, to be their savior. Why? All I wanted was to be myself, to live my own life. I was grateful for the power, yes, but this... this was unbearable.
I left the village behind, the dust of my past swirling in my wake.
But just as spring follows winter, so too did hardship follow my escape.
After days of wandering, I stumbled upon the town of Seika. I settled there, but my meager savings dwindled quickly. I needed a job, something that might utilize my abilities. I searched everywhere, even venturing into the grim, unsettling atmosphere of the slave market. Then, I found them—a couple seeking a mage, someone with knowledge of alchemy, someone who could create healing potions.
I contacted them, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation. I might not be an alchemist, but I knew my power could heal. I demonstrated my ability, and they were immediately impressed, their astonishment palpable.
But that initial awe quickly turned to exploitation. I came to deeply regret my decision.
I hate it. I hate them. I hate myself. The self-loathing claws at me, a relentless torment. I hate myself for making such poor choices. They exploited me, their threats hanging over me like a dark cloud. They threatened to sell me to the Holy Sacral Empire if I disobeyed, turning me into their personal healer once more, just like in the village. Oh, goddess, whoever you are, please take this power away. I don't want it. Why am I suffering for these people? The injustice burns within me.
I cried, but they dismissed my tears, telling me to shut up and do my job. Why? What had I done to deserve this? Power? What kind of power is this? I can heal others, save lives, but I can't save myself? Why? Am I just a tool in their eyes, a means to an end? How can I escape? Mord, their leader, is strong, his presence a constant threat. What do I do? Someone, please help me.
A year passed, a year filled with the bitter taste of despair. Then, Mord and Sasha, my captors, decided to take on a new mage. He was different, somehow. Slicked-back hair, with two rebellious strands framing a sharp gaze. His body was frail, almost delicate, a stark contrast to his intense eyes. I hoped, desperately, that he wouldn't turn out to be like them. I hoped he wouldn't fall prey to Mord's manipulative schemes. I knew their acceptance wasn't without ulterior motives.
My initial impressions were shattered during our first dungeon raid. He was terrifying, a ruthless killer, far more monstrous than Mord and Sasha. He slaughtered goblins with a chilling efficiency, his cunning surpassing even their own. How could someone wield magic with such terrifying skill?
But then I saw it—a flicker of something else in his eyes, a love for what he did. The gleeful smile as he deceived Mord, leading to the golem's demise. The way he fought, freely, joyfully. I felt a pang of envy. Unlike me, he wasn't bound, wasn't trapped. I healed people who didn't deserve it, people who treated me as a mere tool. I craved that freedom, that sense of purpose untainted by exploitation.
After clearing the dungeon, we returned to Seika, claiming our rewards. Then, I overheard their conversation, my suspicions confirmed.
"This guy, Aizo, he has great talent, he might be a hinder to our cult. But I suggest we should use him to gain more recognition. Only then can we get selected for the hero's party. But, we gotta be careful. He's sneaky," Sasha hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
I listened, my heart pounding in my chest, as I eavesdropped from the next room. I knew it.
"Yeah, I heard he's heading to the capital tomorrow. Let's invite him along – it'll be cheaper than him going alone – and if he suspects us? Well we should off him while on the road. No one will suspect a thing, and even if they do, we can pin it on Lisa. All of this is for our great lord Urdok." Mord's voice was cold, devoid of emotion.
Urdok? That's the name of the first demon king! What?
Damn it! Why? Why me? Why does this always happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?
The next day, Mord and Sasha told me to invite Aizo to join us on our journey to the capital, saying it would be cheaper than him going alone.
"Alright." He replied while grinning.
idiot! Why? Why did he agree? We're both going to die if things go wrong. I'm not ready to die. Someone, please save me from this misery!
I cried in my room that night, despair threatening to consume me. My anxiety was a suffocating weight, a crushing burden. No! I can't let this happen.
But then, as we traveled, he spoke.
"Need a hand?" he asked, a grin on his face. My heart fluttered, hope blooming in my chest. I was about to answer, to finally confess my plight, when Sasha interrupted. Please, tell me he knows my answer, that he understands the silent plea in my eyes.