How can I save the world if I'm no longer the hero?

Joan felt a new wave of gnawing anxiety as they traveled back towards the city. This was supposed to be a great adventure, filled with undead monsters and battles for their lives. Excitement.

Instead, it was too quiet. They hadn't even found out if there was a necromancer, let alone actually fought it. They couldn't rescue the missing mercenaries. They'd fought one undead monster, one despair creating monster and the closest thing they had to show for it were the three floating weapons. It wasn't really a failure, but it sure felt like one.

The silence gnawed at her in a way she wouldn't have thought possible before. Her friends were hurting, that much was obvious. Aching. She tried to come up with something to say to them, but what could she say? Sorry that they got hurt? Sorry about what they saw? She didn't even know what they had been through.

In a situation like this she'd usually turn to Bauteut, but Bauteut was amongst those who seemed the most hurt. Worse, she was pretty sure that she was the cause of Bauteut's hurts. Qakog was easy, his protectiveness and apologies told her a lot about what had hurt him. Something terrible had happened to her and it had been, at least in his mind, his fault. Francis and Ifrit were also easy. Their hands rarely left each other's. They'd probably suffered from losing each other.

But Bauteut mostly just shrugged or nodded, giving short, quick answers when questioned. She didn't seem to be fully there at all. Every so often Joan caught Bauteut just looking at her with the saddest, most conflicted look on her face. She was handling it better than Qakog was, at least.

Penthe was a wall, though. She barely talked at all and with her face hidden behind that armor, Joan couldn't even begin to guess how she was feeling.

Slowly, Joan moved up to walk besides Bauteut. "Hey… Bauteut?"

"What?" Bauteut asked, not even looking at her.

"Can I ask, uhhhh… what… exactly did you see, in there? When you were--"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it," Bauteut said.

"But—"

"Joan, don't," Bauteut said before she started walking a little faster.

Joan sighed and fell back a little. She glanced to Penthe, who only looked away from her.

Even if it wasn't a failure, it certainly felt like a failure.

"What in the world is that?" Ifrit asked.

"Huh?" Joan asked, looking up. Off in the distance she could just barely make out something was sparkling. Like a mountain of glass. She felt a small rush of worry in her stomach as he realized that was where the city was.

"You can't be serious," Penthe muttered, her voice dripping with annoyance.

"What?" Joan asked. "What's so-- oh by the stars."

She finally realized what it was. It wasn't glass. It was ice. A dome of ice covering the entire city.

Chase.

Well, at least she knew he was back.

------

"I think that might have been overkill," Joan mumbled, stopping to stare out into the bay at the ships rifling through the wreckage, trying to clear what they could. The shredded remains of ancient, bloated bodies filled the water and it was so thick with wreckage she couldn't see anything beneath the surface.

The dome of ice rose out from the bay, wrapping up and over the city. Large dents covered it, where magical projectiles had struck, but nothing could have hoped to penetrate such a protective barrier. Hanging from the pole on the docks was an old, shredded black and red flag. It was unfurled, but from their position approaching the city she couldn't make out what was on it.

Joan didn't need to, though. It would be a red skull on a black background. Judging by the dome of ice and the wrecked vessels, it was pretty clear to her what happened here. At least there wouldn't be much threat from undead pirates for a while. She mentally did a few quick tallies in her mind, comparing the year and how long they'd been here. "Captain… Quinn? I wanna say?"

"W-what?!" Francis asked, coming to a stop with Ifrit. "Here? She's here? The ghast of--"

"No," Joan said. "I'm saying I think the captain at this time would be Captain Quinn. She'd be dead now, though. On account of Chase. Probably."

"Probably?" Ifrit asked. "If the city was attacked, should we--"

"It's fine," Penthe said, walking past Ifrit and Francis. "That dome is a clear sign that Chase has it well in hand and is still here."

"Why do you say that?" Francis asked.

"Because only Chase could make something like that," Joan said before she started walking again. "And if he wasn't in the city, it would have collapsed by now. The fact it's still up likely means there might be a second attack, or worse."

"That… doesn't sound good," Ifrit mumbled gently.

"It's not," Penthe said. "But it's fine. The Chosen should be more than capable of dealing with a threat like this. We should be more concerned about why he felt the need to be so… excessive."

"Wait, what?" Joan asked and quickly began to walk faster. "I mean, I imagine he was just showing off. What do you think?"

"I don't know," Penthe said. "That's why I want to find him and find out. If trouble is coming it is best that we're by his side."

Joan nodded and quickly rushed after her. That knot of anxiety in her stomach was only getting bigger. She just hoped whatever had him using such excessive force wasn't too terrible. If he was in danger and she wasn't here for him, she'd never forgive herself.

------

Oh, Chase was in danger alright. He was in a lot of danger. In fact, she suspected he was a few seconds from death.

"What. Do you think. You're doing," Penthe asked. While the armor around her made her face impossible to see, Joan could almost feel her twitching behind the helmet.

"Come ooooon, Gil," Chase said, putting an arm around her shoulder. His other hand reached out towards the horizon, gesturing in a wide arc. "It's a celebration! We woooon! Better yet, I found Dixon! We just need to go grab him!"

"How much have you had to drink?" Penthe asked.

"I've only had one mug since I got back to the city!" Chase said with a wide grin.

"That wasn't what I asked," Penthe said. "How much?"

"Many, many mugs," Breeze said, holding a mug of her own which she took a drink from. How she drank around the mask Joan couldn't see. Or maybe she was just splashing it on the mask to make it look like she was drinking it. "I lost count around seven. I did not know one could drink the undead under the table."

"By the gods," Penthe said, shaking her head. "Is that… the ice. The dome. Was it to protect the city or were you just showing off?"

"What?!" Chase asked, recoiling from her, an offended look on his face. "I am hurt! Offended! That you could think so little of me!"

"Chase," Penthe said.

"Apology accepted," Chase said with a bright grin.

"Chase," Penthe said again, the frustration clear in her voice.

"Now then, to the--" Chase was cut off when Penthe PUNCHED him in the stomach. For a moment there was shock on the changeling's face before he spewed all over her arm.

"Penthe!" Joan yelled. "Why… oh… ew… Chase?"

Chase started to drop and Penthe knelt down, catching him. "Bauteut, come here. Joan, your ring. It nullifies poisons, correct?"

"I, well, yes," Joan said. "Wait, he's poisoned? You don't--"

"He is the Chosen of Gluttony," Penthe said, holding him as upright as she could. "Bauteut?"

Bauteut gulped and reached out a hand, pushing it against Chase's back. For a moment she was silent, before shaking her head. "I… don't know. There's definitely poison, but it might be the alcohol? There's a lot of it."

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"W-why did you p-punch me…" Chase asked, giving a light, pained groan.

"To try and make you eject some of the toxins," Penthe said. "Bauteut, can you induce vomiting?"

"On a Chosen?" Bauteut asked, looking up at her. "I-I think that's… blasphemous. I-I can't confirm--"

"Do it or I'll find a healer who can," Penthe snapped, gripping Chase by the shoulders. "Chase? Where did you--" Her words were cut off when he threw up a second time, right on the helmet. She was silent, then.

"Admittedly, I do feel a lot better now," Chase said, a little sheepishly.

"S-sorry," Bauteut said, her hand on his back. "I-I didn't mean for him to… uh…"

Penthe didn't say a word. She just let him go and walked away. Making soft, squishy sounds with each step.

Joan gulped and looked to Chase. "Do… do you want my ring?"

"I… don't think so," Chase said softly. "I still don't really… feel that good, though. A bit clearer, though."

"I told you it was a bad idea," Breeze said softly. "I think she's mad at you."

"I think… you might be right," Chase said, glancing towards where Penthe left. "Oh… what was in that?"

"It's quite strong," Breeze said before drinking a little more. Nothing was on her mask, so maybe the mouth part of the mask had an invisible hole. She glanced to the others. "Want some?"

"I'll pass," Joan said quickly. Anything that could impact a Chosen that strongly she didn't really trust her ring to hold off. Sure, it supposedly nullified all poisons, but she'd seen the unburnable burn, the unfreezeable freeze and didn't want to experience the unpoisonable becoming poisoned. Not to mention she'd drunk often enough as the Hero that she didn't really feel comfortable with trying to test a non-Hero tolerance of alcohol. "I'm going to go make sure Penthe is okay. You all enjoy the uhhhh, festivities," she said quickly.

Joan glanced towards Chase as she left. Penthe wasn't wrong. She'd seen him drink giants under the table. Him reacting like that meant whatever he'd been drinking was probably incredibly unsafe.

Though, if it was something the undead could drink, then it was likely that by default. She hoped they were being careful to not let just anyone drink it. So long as the others stayed with him she was sure he'd be fine. The giant dome of ice overhead wasn't showing any signs of melting either, so at the very least he was keeping his powers well in hand.

------

"Heyyyyyyy, Penthe," Joan said as sheepishly as she could, glancing into the bathroom. "How you feeling?"

Penthe glanced over at her but didn't move from her position, submerged up to her neck in one of the massive pools fed from outside. At least she wasn't covered in bile. She looked less than happy, though. "Like I just spent days wandering the wilderness and then had a Chosen of the Gods throw up on me. Twice."

"So…" Joan asked.

"I've been worse," Penthe said. "I know you've been out there for a while as well, so go ahead."

Joan let out a sigh of relief before quickly walking over to climb into the water, before letting out a little shriek. "It's freezing!"

"Not quite, but close," Penthe said with a shrug. "You should be grateful there even is a bath here, many outposts I've been to don't even have anything like this. Or worse, they'll expect you to do it in the sea."

"I-I know," Joan mumbled, though it didn't make her shiver any less. She missed having Korgron around to quickly fill and warm baths for her. She wondered if she was being spoiled. Probably. "F-feels kind of like d-doing it in the sea."

"… Sorry," Penthe said. "I should have warned you, I suppose. Try not to get sick."

"Unlikely," Joan said, holding up the ring on her finger.

Penthe gave a light chuckle. "Expect to get poisoned in the bath?"

"I mean, I almost died right after a bath once," Joan said. "Kind of sucked, they were going to burn me alive. Was how I found out about Guardian Nova making me fire proof, actually."

"I see," Penthe said softly, the smile vanishing from her face. "I'm sorry. I should have realized you'd…"

"How could you have realized that?" Joan asked. "Most people don't almost die as often as me." If nothing else she was getting used to the cold water quickly. And it did feel nice to actually get some of the dirt from their journey off herself. She didn't want to linger, though. "I'm told I'm quite talented at it."

"I'd imagine so," Penthe said. "I doubt I helped matters any."

"Ehhhh, you did in some ways, less in others," Joan said with a shrug. "Do you plan to leave as soon as we find Dixon?"

"I already told you I have other matters to attend to while I'm here," Penthe said. "If I recall, you wished to help."

"Of course!" Joan said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. "It'll be so much fun! Assuming you're still okay with that."

Penthe didn't say anything. Instead, she lifted a hand out of the water, eyeing it.

"Did you get hurt?" Joan asked.

"No," Penthe said. "I'm just… thinking."

"You do that a lot," Joan said.

"You really should try it more often," Penthe said. "It'd be less worrying."

"Honestly, I probably think a bit too much," Joan said with a small shrug. "Every time I think too hard, I just get stressed and cause more problems. Hero thought about things all the time and look at how he turned out."

"I killed him," Penthe said softly.

"Lots of people killed him," Joan said.

"But I killed him in this life," Penthe said. "You… knew that, didn't you?"

"Of course," Joan said with a shrug. "I think we've been over that."

"I suppose we have," Penthe said softly. Slowly she dropped her hand back into the water and sighed, closing her eyes.

"Penthe?" Joan asked.

"What?" Penthe asked.

"Are you okay? You seem… more…" Joan asked.

"Why do you not hate me?" Penthe asked.

"Eh," Joan said with a shrug. "If I hated everyone who tried to kill me, or succeeded, I'd lose all my best friends. I think Bauteut would be about it."

"What about Hardwin?" Penthe asked.

"He never tried to kill me at the end," Joan said. "But that didn't mean he hadn't tried a few other times. Some of our sparring matches could get intense. I think now he's considered it a few times. He realllllllly hates losing to me."

Penthe gave a light snort before shaking her head.

"Does this have to do with what you saw? When that monster… well…" Joan asked.

The smile faded from Penthe's lips. "Something…. Like that, I suppose. Regrets, in a way. If I'd been less headstrong, more willing to listen… perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps the Hungry One could have been slain. Instead, I drove you to this point. I spent lifetimes trying to kill you. Even succeeding, at times."

"And I spent lifetimes ruining so many lives," Joan said softly. "Not intentionally, but… you tried your best to make things better. To fix things. You didn't… you don't want to kill me now, right? So… I think that matters."

"Have you at least… enjoyed this life?" Penthe asked.

"Ehhhh, parts of it," Joan said. "Some parts of it suck. Being an orphan was awful, but probably for the best. I'm told I was a terrible child. Believe it or not, I think… I've caused a lot less suffering in this life than I ever did as Owain."

Penthe was silent then, not moving much. After a bit she was tempted to nudge her, just to make sure she didn't pass out in the bath, before Penthe finally spoke up. "Joan, the Hero's… Owain's family. I never—"

"I know," Joan said. "You didn't kill my… his father. That was the bandits. For what it's worth? That happened in… in every lifetime. I never had a father. After that, I usually didn't have much of a life, either. I actually… met his mother. Not that long ago."

"Really?" Penthe asked. "That must have been—"

"She hated me," Joan said quickly, cutting her off. "That hurt. I'd spent a lot of lifetimes… thinking my mother hated me. So… finding out she actually did? That… that stung. A lot. But you know what? That's fine. I have a much better family now. The Chosen adore me, for one. I have a great grandmother, who gets me dresses and stuff. Even the queen kind of… likes me? I think? That's… that's nice. So… you know what?" She took a slow, deep breath. Trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "My mother didn't want me and that's fine, because a lot of other people do. People who aren't part of my family. Who still want me in their life. So… that's fine. I'm fine."

"Your… the Hero's mother truly felt that way?" Penthe asked.

"Yeah," Joan said. "In retrospect, kind of obvious. A lot of us didn't really have families. The Chosen, the Hero. Even the Demon Lord didn't have anyone, I thought. Was, ummmm… did you…"

"Our lives can be quite dangerous," Penthe said. "Often, our loved ones pay the price. Throughout history, many of the Chosen have lost their families or distanced themselves from them. Not to mention the bond between the Hero and the Chosen can be as strong, if not stronger, than most familial bonds. But… yes. There were times I would step in and erase the memories of certain family members from history. When I thought it necessary."

"Like Isla?" Joan asked.

"Like Isla," Penthe said. "She is Korgron's sister and was held captive by the Demon Lord. The Chosen… have to be free to do their duty. Erasing her from memory was the best way to ensure that Korgron wouldn't have her duty damaged."

"Would you do it now?" Joan asked.

"I don't know," Penthe said. "I mean, now? No. There'd be no point. The duty of the Chosen is done. My duty is done. I am no longer needed."

"But you would, if it was your duty?" Joan asked.

"I have no more ways to erase her memory from their minds," Penthe said. "My duty is to assist the Chosen, not cause them grief."

"That's not really answering the question," Joan said.

"I'm not a good person, Joan," Penthe said. "I don't know what you're trying to find out here. But my hands are covered in the blood of those who had done little to deserve their fate. Even in this life, I have ended the lives of many who didn't deserve it. Including yours. Had I known you were the Hero sooner? I would have ended your life this time as well. As a baby, if possible. It was my duty."

"Do you feel that draw, too?" Joan asked.

"What draw?" Penthe asked.

"To the Chosen, to me," Joan asked. "The Chosen said before that they felt the urge to trust me. To believe in me. Even when they know they shouldn't. Do you?"

Penthe sighed before getting to her feet. "I've soaked enough. Don't stay in here too long, you'll get sick."

"I'm taking that as a yes!" Joan yelled after her.

"Take whatever you please," Penthe said, quickly leaving the room.

Joan sighed and sunk a little lower into the water, burbling it a little bit. She then coughed as the water went up her nose, making her shake her head and sitting up proper. "Ughhhhh, tastes like sea water…" Which, she supposed, it mostly was. If a little filtered.