Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero

The sun, a blazing disc in the high noon sky, beat down on the marketplace. The air, thick with the smells of roasted meats, fragrant spices, and unwashed bodies, vibrated with the clamor of a thousand voices. Tyler, however, was oblivious to it all. He was a whirlwind, a blur of motion, cutting a path through the crowded stalls. His shoulders, a rigid shield, bumped against jostling vendors and startled shoppers. Muffled grumbles and indignant shouts followed in his wake, but he heard none of them. His mind was a battlefield, and his pace had become a desperate flight.

He burst free of the market's confines, the familiar scent of the open road hitting his nostrils. The waiting transport wagons, laden with goods and weary travelers, blurred past. The town gate loomed ahead, his immediate escape route.

*We faced off against a Black Cloud Guild member that time. The fighter. Before we saw him in the forest he was with another hunter at the Crossroads base. But that hunter did not show up.*

Tyler thought as he sprinted towards the wagon road. His stride lengthened, his movements transitioning into an urgent march. The Hexhorn Armor, a familiar presence on his body, vanished in a faint blue shimmer, instantly replaced by the flowing blue of the Gloom Armor. The robe-like material billowed and danced in the wind as his speed increased, a vibrant curtain in his wake. The brown boots he was wearing shimmered blue, then disappeared altogether, replaced by the enhanced pair, their design promising a 12% increase in speed.

*Tyler's eyes glowed a faint blue* as he ran through the green, open lands towards the Crossroads base, his face set with grim determination. The wind whipped at his short, black hair. *If I heard right, that would mean that more Black Cloud Guild hunters might have returned when I was unconscious. And something must've happened to Rebecca. I have to make sure. I have to ask. I'm sure I'll find Serena there. I have to know if she's seen Rebecca in that time.*

As Tyler ran, thoughts of Rebecca hammered through his mind, each beat of his heart a drum against the urgency. The dread that she might have crossed paths with the Black Cloud Guild gnawed at him, a relentless force fueling his already furious speed. He pushed harder, the wind screaming past his ears, the green landscape blurring into a streak of color.

He remembered waking up in a place alien to the one where he had lost consciousness. The image of Rebecca flooded his thoughts. *Perhaps,* he thought, each footfall a prayer, *she encountered the Black Cloud Guild and moved to a different location to protect me.*

Meanwhile, in Aria, within the vast and imposing mansion of the Black Cloud Guild, deep beneath the opulent facade, lay a dark and silent cellar, a place where sound seemed to be absorbed by the very stones. There, bound to the cold, metallic frame of a metal Chair by thick ropes, Rebecca endured. Her back and hips ached with the relentless strain of being held in the same position for what felt like an eternity.

*What's taking their captain so long? It's been hours,* she thought, the impatience a burning ember in her chest. Her throat, raw and dry, scratched with every silent breath. Her long, silver hair, usually a cascade of shimmering light, partially veiled her face, obscuring one eye and revealing only a glimpse of the other, a mirror of silver. Dark circles, the telltale signs of a sleepless night and relentless torment, shadowed her eyes. She had been relentlessly pressured by the vice-captain and his daughter for information she refused to reveal.

She waited, her gaze fixed on the stone stairs leading up from the cellar and into the heart of the main building, each creak of the ancient stone a potential signal. She was expecting the captain, but hours had passed, and the heavy door remained closed. The cellar was cloaked in near-total darkness, the only illumination provided by flickering, sputtering fire torches that cast dancing, grotesque shadows on the damp stone walls.

Rebecca's face fell, her features a mask of exhaustion. A weary sigh escaped her, cut short by the parched dryness of her throat. Then, a screech of grinding metal ripped through the silence, the iron cellar door groaning open. A sliver of the noon sun, a blinding intrusion, spilled into the dim space. Rebecca snapped her gaze upward, her heart leaping in her chest.

Standing in the doorway was a figure she hadn't seen in what felt like an eternity. The man wore a simple shirt, brown trousers, and worn leather boots. Behind him, the vice-captain loomed, his face a familiar mask of severity. But it was the man in the front, the captain, who held her captive attention. Rebecca's eyes widened, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs as the two figures approached. This was the man she had been waiting for, the man she had both feared and resented since the day their paths first crossed. Dear Cloud, the man who had extinguished the light of her parents' lives. The man who had irrevocably changed the course of her existence. His expression held a flicker of something that might have been amusement, or perhaps grim satisfaction, while the vice-captain's face remained a stony mask.

*He's here,* Rebecca thought, a sudden surge of energy coursing through her veins, a power she had believed depleted. It was a cocktail of adrenaline, rage, and a grief that gnawed at her soul, a bitter blend of sadness and crushing powerlessness. She gripped the arms of the metal chair with a white-knuckled grip, her entire being coiled, poised, ready to unleash the plan she had meticulously crafted in the desolate hours of waiting.

The captain and vice-captain halted before her. The captain, his expression finally settling into a hard focus, folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

Rebecca and the captain's eyes locked, a silent battle waged across the space between them. The captain saw the tempest in her gaze. He saw the seething malice, the unadulterated resentment, a hatred so potent it seemed to emanate from her like a tangible force.

"I heard my subordinates say you wouldn't talk or answer any questions until I came," the captain said, his voice a low, predatory growl that echoed in the confined space. "Well, here I am. Who-"

His words were snatched away. A blinding pulse of silver light erupted from Rebecca's right hand, illuminating the cellar in an ethereal glow. In that single, breathtaking instant, the metal chair, her prison for so long, exploded. It fragmented, shattered into a lethal storm of arrow-shaped shards that clattered against the stone floor. Seizing her chance, Rebecca, her movements a blur of desperation and rage, launched herself at Dear Cloud. In her hand, she gripped one of the razor-sharp projectiles. Each muscle in her body strained with the effort, her guttural grunt a testament to the fury that drove her.

Grant's eyes widened, the briefest flicker of surprise crossing his features before the impending assault. The arrow-shaped shard found its mark, piercing Dear's neck with brutal speed. But instead of piercing, the metal *bent* against his skin. Her attack had failed. His eyes, cold and unreadable, remained locked on hers.

As Rebecca, shock rippling across her features, began to recoil, Grant exploded into action. His fist, a weapon of disciplined force, slammed into her ribs. The sound was a sickening thud, followed by the sharp intake of her breath. The impact sent her flying like a rag doll. She slammed against the cold stone wall of the cellar, the force of the blow cracking the ancient surface as her body crashed to the ground, chest-first, with a thunderous sound. The air was driven from her lungs in a raw, strangled gasp.

Grant immediately moved to intervene, attempting to bypass the captain and reach Rebecca. The captain, however, extended an arm, a solid barrier blocking Grant's path. "What are you doing?" Grant demanded, his voice tight with concern. "She was about to kill you!"

"Wait," the captain said, his voice calm, almost dismissive. "Don't go beating her to a pulp... yet."

The captain then *crouched*, his gaze fixed on her. Rebecca was clutching her stomach, her face contorted in agony. Even the slightest touch to her injured side sent waves of searing pain through her. The instinctive tensing of her muscles only served to amplify the torment. It seemed likely that one of her ribs was broken, a fact that amplified her pain.

The captain leaned closer, his eyes, cold and assessing, locked on hers. "I asked," he said, his voice still calm, "Who are you?"

Rebecca met his gaze, the same look of seething resentment and unbridled fury that had been there since his arrival still burning in her eyes. She glanced at Grant, her expression mirroring the captain's, a shared well of animosity and anger.

The captain then *crouched*, his gaze fixed on her.

"You're that kid, aren't you?" he said, his voice barely a whisper. "The girl who escaped that night."

Rebecca's eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering across her features. He remembered. After all these years, she had assumed he would have forgotten her. The words, spoken with such casual recognition, sent her heart hammering against her ribs.

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With a painful groan, Rebecca rasped, her voice a mere thread, "I'm going to kill you," her throat still dry, the pain from her fractured rib intensifying with each ragged breath.

Grant's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and realization. He muttered under his breath, "I was right. It really is her."

You killed my parents," Rebecca rasped, the words a raw, broken whisper. Her vision blurred, tears pricking at her eyes, fueled by a tempest of grief and unadulterated fury. "Why?" she demanded, the single word echoing in the chilling silence of the cellar.

The captain's sardonic smile, a mere flicker on his lips, vanished, replaced by a mask of cold seriousness. "I did," he admitted, the pronouncement devoid of any emotion. "I killed your parents. It was… a long time ago. To be honest, I barely remember the details."

A choked groan ripped from Rebecca's throat, a sound of pure outrage and anguish, as she shifted slightly on the floor, the gesture born of rage and the agony she felt.

Grant, a shadow at the captain's side, murmured, "After all these years... to think we'd actually find her, all the way here." He moved closer, planting himself beside the captain, his posture a blend of caution and grim satisfaction.

"Why?" Rebecca repeated, the question now a plea, a desperate attempt to comprehend the unconscionable.

The captain's gaze remained fixed on her, his voice a low, measured rumble. "Your father," he began, the words hanging heavy in the air. "Someone who was close to me, once. A *brother*. We hunted together, back then. We dreamed of building our own guild, a place where we could call the shots. He was my brother... Sam Cloud."

He paused, the air thick with unspoken history. "One day, my brother and I were hunting. We parted ways. It was the first time we had separated in a monster zone. I knew my brother. Careless. More daring than I. Always picking fights. Always getting into trouble when I wasn't watching. I was fighting monsters. I heard a scream. I ran to find my brother and saw his body. Arrows. Piercing him. Everywhere. One through his head. And your father… I saw him. He ran that day. I couldn't believe it. My brother, taken down by some cowardly archer. Gone. Just like that."

Rebecca listened, her body trembling with a mixture of pain and rage, her gaze locked with the captain's, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a physical burden.

"That day, I searched for your father," the captain continued, his voice a monotone recounting of the past, "and I heard his name from other hunters and the place he'd been staying. I went with some of my allies to his house. And when I arrived… there he was. The man who had slain my brother." His jaw clenched briefly. "I didn't hesitate. I killed him."

Rebecca's voice, a broken whisper, "My father…"

But she was abruptly cut off. "You would have done the same, wouldn't you?" the captain said, his tone almost conversational. "I mean, that's why you're here, isn't it? For revenge. I sought it for my brother. You seek it for your parents. We're on the same path."

A small, mirthless chuckle escaped the captain. "We're not really all that different, are we?"

Rebecca's voice cracked, a raw scream tearing from her throat, "Bullshit! My mother! Why did you kill her?"

The captain met her gaze, his eyes devoid of any emotion. "Because I wanted to. I was furious. Back then. Her cries, to see another weeping for the man who killed my brother, it annoyed me. So, I killed her."

Rebecca's eyes widened, the question of *why* still burning. He had killed her parents. But the stark, casual way he spoke of it, without a flicker of remorse, left her not with fury, but a sudden, crushing sense of powerlessness, of utter helplessness. She hadn't expected such bluntness. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rasped, her voice thick with anguish, "You could have let her live. She didn't deserve that. We didn't deserve any of this."

The captain, still *crouched* low, looked up at Grant.

"When you first told me about this," the captain said, his voice measured, "I couldn't believe it. I thought it was some kind of sick joke." He turned his gaze back to Rebecca, his expression hardening. "But here you are. Too bad you're not going to make it out of here. But... you *could*."

Grant's focus sharpened, his features tightening as he leaned in, attentive to the captain's words.

"If you tell us where your ally is, we'll be more than happy to let you go. Once he's… taken care of, of course."

Rebecca surged forward, a wild animal unleashed, launching herself at the captain. He reacted with instinctive swiftness, sidestepping her attack by a hair's breadth as her teeth snapped shut inches from his face, a sharp *snap* echoing through the close confines of the cellar.

The captain sighed, a weary sound. "I guess that's a no."

Grant's voice, filled with a sudden, sharp realization, cut through the air. "So you've been the one helping that hunter kill our guild mates? But why? I thought you were after the captain. Was this a plan to lure him out? Pick us off, one by one, until you got to him?"

Rebecca, ignoring Grant's questions, glared at the captain, her voice raw with defiance, "I'm not done talking to you about killing my family."

In a blur of motion, Grant drew his sword. Steel flashed, a silver streak slicing through the air. He aimed for her hand. Three of her fingers, severed from the thumb, tumbled onto the stone floor, followed by a crimson spray. Rebecca's scream, a sound of pure, agonized pain, ripped through the cellar as she clutched her bleeding hand to her chest. The agony, now a brutal symphony of pain from her broken ribs and the severed fingers, threatened to overwhelm her.

Grant glared down at Rebecca, his eyes burning with resentment, devoid of any trace of pity. "I asked you a fucking question," he growled, his voice a low snarl. "Where is that damn hunter? Where is the man who killed my sons?"

Rebecca could only groan, a broken sound that barely escaped her lips, the pain stealing her breath and silencing any response. Her world swam, a kaleidoscope of agony.

A brutal kick, a sudden, sickening arc of motion, slammed into her chin, a blow that ripped through her senses. The world exploded in a blinding flash of white-hot pain as her head snapped back. She slammed against the cold stone wall, the impact jarring her broken ribs, sending a fresh wave of agony through her. She crumpled, her body a broken thing, collapsing to the ground on her backside, the rough stone a cruel bed.

Grant advanced, his face a mask of unbridled fury, a predator closing in. The captain, however, extended his hand, a final act of restraint, blocking Grant's path. "Get out of my way," Grant spat, his voice a venomous hiss, the words barely containing his rage.

The captain gripped Grant's hand, his grip firm, unwavering, a silent plea for control. Grant turned, a look of disbelief warring with fury on his face. "What?"

The captain met his gaze, his expression a careful mask of control. "You're not going to get any answers that way. We should leave this to Silivia. "

"Screw Silivia," Grant snarled, yanking his hand from the captain's grasp, his control finally breaking. He strode towards Rebecca, a figure of merciless vengeance.

He lifted his leg, the movement slow, deliberate, terrifying in its finality. The air crackled with anticipation, the only sound the ragged breaths of the combatants. With a resounding *thud*, he brought his boot down, stomping onto Rebecca's head. The stone floor *cracked* beneath the crushing force, the sound echoing through the silent cellar, a death knell.

Rebecca's world narrowed to the point of contact, the crushing pressure an unbearable agony. Her vision darkened, her senses fraying. She groaned, a sound that was both a scream and a sob.

"Tell me where the hunter is. Now," Grant demanded, his voice a low, guttural threat, pressing down with increasing force. The world tilted, the light fading. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood trickling from her wounds. Her hand, a desperate act of defiance, reached for Grant's leg, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, but her strength was gone, her will broken. The crushing pressure was relentless, a torturous vise tightening around her skull.

The captain, his face a cold mask of practicality, without hesitation, held Grant's shoulder, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the torment, "Stop it. You're going to kill her."

Grant's leg remained pressed against Rebecca's head, the pressure unrelenting. "So what?" he snarled, his voice tight with fury. "I'm not going to stop until she tells me where that hunter is. Tell me, right now!" His leg *twisted*, the movement a grinding torment.

The captain, with a surge of strength, *pulled* him away, the vice-captain stumbling backward a short distance. The captain then stood before Rebecca, a shield against further brutality. "I said, *stop*."

Grant's eyes burned with malice as he glared at the captain. "Tch... if you hadn't reached S-rank..." He didn't finish the thought, his voice trailing off as he turned and stalked toward the stone stairs of the cellar. He heaved open the heavy metal door, the sudden spill of sunlight momentarily blinding, a harsh contrast to the shadows of the room. He left the door ajar as he disappeared up the stairs.

The captain turned his attention back to Rebecca, a broken form on the floor. He *crouched* beside her, his movements deliberate, almost gentle. He reached out, his fingers tangling in her silver hair, lifting her head just enough to make eye contact. "Tell us where he is," he said, his voice a low, even tone, "and, as I've said, we might let you go."

Rebecca, her face a mask of pain and defiance, tears streaming down her cheeks, *spat* at the captain. A mixture of blood and saliva landed on his cheek, a defiant insult.

The captain sighed, a sound of weary resignation. "So fucking stupid." He then slammed her head back down onto the cold stone floor with brutal force, the sound echoing in the enclosed space, and blood splattered across the ground, staining the floor.

He released her hair, and the strands spread out like a silver halo, now stained crimson. He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the scene. "This could have gone differently," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But you asked for this."

There was no response from Rebecca. Not a twitch, not a tremor. Her face was pressed against the cold stone floor, a macabre tableau in a pool of her own blood. The captain turned, the sound of his footfalls echoing in the confined space as he walked away, heading for the stairs. With a final, lingering glance at Rebecca, he reached the top, turned, and closed the cellar door, plunging the room back into near darkness, the only illumination provided by the flickering flames of the fire torches that lined the walls.

Rebecca moved, a low groan escaping her lips, the sound barely audible. She slowly shifted her head, her vision swimming, and looked to the side. Blood oozed from the wound on her forehead, tracing a crimson path down the side of her left ear. Her head throbbed, the pain an unbearable pressure, a headache unlike any she had ever known. Tears streamed down her face, a silent torrent of grief and pain. She whispered, her voice barely a breath, "Mother, I'm so sorry."

The cellar door creaked open once more. Rebecca didn't bother to look, her body and spirit seemingly broken, as if she had finally accepted her fate.

But it wasn't Grant.

Silivia descended the steps, her face a mask of grim determination. She surveyed the scene, her gaze sweeping over the prone figure of Rebecca, then down to the scattered iron arrows, sharp metal shards that littered the floor. *So*, she thought, *she used the last of her mana to do this. The captain said it failed… I'm going to need a new chair.*

Silivia then focused her attention on Rebecca. "The captain said he told you to tell him where the other hunter is, and you refused. Now they're forcing me to do something that I don't really like doing." She sighed, a sound of weary resignation. "It's nothing personal." Silivia then turned and walked back out of the cellar, leaving Rebecca to her fate.

The image of Tyler, vibrant and clear, flashed across Rebecca's mind. A faint smile touched her lips. *Tyler… he helped me so much. I could never repay him. And I dragged him into this. This was my battle from the start. He just wanted to help. He's such a good person.*

With a pained groan, Rebecca turned, her movements slow and agonizing. She gritted her teeth, the effort costing her dearly. Her ribs protested, a searing wave of pain washing over her. Her head drooped further, her arm heavy and useless. Finally, she managed to roll onto her back, staring up at the oppressive, dark ceiling of the cellar.

She coughed, a dry, rasping sound, swallowing only the dust-filled air. *If Father was still alive… if Mother hadn't died… and if I had met Tyler in that life… who knows what might have been.* A small smile played upon her lips, a fleeting moment of peace in the face of the encroaching darkness.

Another cough wracked her body, this time weaker, more fragile. *I'll die before I let them know where he is.* A resolve, as firm as it was desperate, settled upon her.

Then, with a whisper, she breathed, "Father… looks like I'll be meeting you pretty soon."

She slowly closed her eyes, surrendering to the embrace of sweet unconsciousness, the final curtain drawing near.

Meanwhile, Tyler had arrived at the crossroads base. He was in the monster zones, walking through the sun-dappled forest. The midday sun, a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed Rebecca. *It was right here,* he thought, his gaze sweeping across the familiar landscape. *This is where I fell unconscious. I've already spoken to Serena. She told me about them. They were looking for me.*