The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?

Mina laughed, crunching the stone beneath her feet as she jumped down from the ledge. Her cloak billowed with wind as she fell a few paces ahead of Harold—who promptly took two cautious steps away from her, his face whitening like he'd caught sight of a ghost.

Her purple eyes glinted with annoyance as she smoothed herself into order, dark tresses cascading over her shoulder. She wasn't gazing at Harold, however; she was looking at Aithur, who slouched there in a relaxed position, his sword flashing the sunlight in bright, silvery glints that skittered across the air.

Well, well, well." Mina started, her voice full of sarcasm as she clapped slowly and deliberately. The sound rebounded off the vacant courtyard. "The Grand Duke, or the Empire's strongest magician, is really employing a sword?" Her mouth smiled with a mischievous grin. "How cute. So the gossip that you've been keeping away from magic in recent times prove to be true after all.

There was sharpness in her tone, but coldness in her eyes, the kind of coldness that would not play games.

Aithur's expression, however, remained calm. His grip on the sword did not tighten, his legs did not move. Instead, his lips curled into a slight smile—a smile that expressed amusement, not hurt.

He tilted his head to one side, slightly. "Aren't you going to say the same thing to me?" he said smoothly. "I always wondered who it was that had crept into the palace dungeon and beheaded Hans in one blow." He tossed up his hand, demonstrating the action of a clean beheading before letting it fall in a lazy arc. "I didn't expect the killer to be so. small." His eyes sparkled with mirth.

"But then again, most people who surprise everyone aren't usually cut out for the role."

Mina's smirk faltered, her sharp brows trembling with irritation—but she never got to hit back. Poor, shaking Harold let out a gasp-squeak hybrid when Mina set her glare on him.

Her glare alone could've cut steel.

Harold squealed in a heartbeat and darted behind Aithur like a terrified squirrel looking for cover. "Don't let her kill me!" he shrieked, grasping the Duke's arm with knuckles turned white.

Aithur sighed and casually pushed Harold off him. "Don't touch me," he said flatly, as though the entire encounter were mildly inconvenient. "You're disgusting."

Mina laughed like silver bells coated with cruelty. "Oh, so the great Harold hides behind someone else now? How adorable." She tilted her head playfully. "Tell me, does the great Holy Temple traitor apprentice always wet his boots when he meets a woman?"

Harold's lips trembled. "I–I don't wet my—!"

Mina arched an eyebrow, and he shut up immediately, hiding behind Aithur again.

Aithur's forehead furrowed into annoyance at their foolishness. His temper was thinly papered as it was.

Mina puffed and lifted her left hand. Her arm dimly glowed with dark energy, distorting and warping into a black, serrated sword that shuddered with a dark aura that undulated through the air in ripples. The ground beneath her cracked, dark tendrils spreading.

"I don't have time for pointless chatter," she said coldly. "I only came to finish my mission." Her voice dropped an octave, the temperature around them plummeting. "Hand over the scared little Harold—and I'll be on my way."

Aithur exhaled slowly through his nose, appearing bored. "That wouldn't be of concern to me," he answered, his tone taunting and level. "But since you were foolish enough to attack and kill someone on palace property." He gestured languidly over his shoulder. "It's my concern now."

Mina's eyes narrowed coldly. "Your concern?" she echoed.

Before he could answer, there was a colossal explosion in the distance—a deafening BOOM! that shook the courtyard. Debris and dust blew outward in a storm. The shockwave swept through, its gusts snapping cloaks and whistling between pillars.

The wind hit like an animal, booming into the courtyard. Mina's hair fluttered around her head. Aithur stood firm with an abnormal calm, his coat blowing out behind him in a sweeping flourish, while Harold screamed and tried to crouch down, only to have the wind knock him off balance and bounce him back.

When the dust finally settled, Aithur gave a stern look to the devastation in the distance. Half a smile crept up to his lips and he spoke in a hushed tone, "Well, that's another one to add to your book of crimes against the Capital."

Mina flashed with anger, her patience exhausted. "You may charge me with only crimes if you can catch me."

The instant the words left her lips, her body glowed, then vanished—in a rush of darkness enveloping her whole self.

Aithur's eyes went wide, his face set hard. Tension crackled. A gentle whoosh pierced his ear.

He whirled about sharply, raising his sword in time to parry Mina's strike at Harold's throat. Clink! Shadow against steel, sparks flying through the air. Harold yelled again, stumbling back and falling on his rear end.

Mina's smile twisted. "Slowing down, Grand Duke?"

"Getting dull, little killer," Aithur said quietly, his sword up against hers. Blue and purple eyes met—like lightning and fire.

And she vanished again.

Another whoosh. Another swing. Aithur dodged aside, his sword flashing up. Clang! The force shook the stones beneath them.

Another whoosh, this one faster.

Mina's blade cut low, her movements almost concealed, but Aithur only yawned, sidestepping with a loose profligacy and sweeping his blade idly through the air with one hand. "Is that all?" he idly taunted, the contempt in his voice unmistakable. "I was waiting for something more exciting."

Mina reappeared several feet away, panting softly, her hair spilling into her face. Her purple eyes flashed with ire. "You think this is funny?"

He shrugged. "No. Just. a mild inconvenience." He tilted his head slightly to the side towards Harold, who was still on the floor. "Although I have to say, you're making me look good. It's not often I get to be the hero in front of that moron."

"I'M NOT A IDIOT!" Harold yelled on the floor.

Mina blinked at him in disbelief, she groaned and massaged her temple with her free hand. "I swear, you've lost your mind."

"You're not wrong," he said mildly, his smirk returning.

She gritted her teeth. "Fine. Let's end this."

Her body vanished once more into a blur of shadows, circling around them like a cyclone. The courtyard dimmed under her speed. Harold clutched his head, screaming, "I'm too young to die!"

"You're twenty-three," Aithur reminded him.

"That's still young!"

The darkness struck out again. Aithur swished his sword in a wide arc, parrying blow after blow with liquid ease. His feet were so fast that even the dust seemed to dance in synchrony with him. Each blow sent waves of wind swirling out.

Mina spat as one of her cuts just missed, grazing Aithur's coat. "Why do you keep protecting that cursed fool?!"

Aithur's sword caught on hers once more, steel on shadow. He met her glare with a yawn of a smile. "Because I have to," he said bluntly. "It would be really bad for my reputation if the traitor I was bringing in with me, along with the Second Prince, was discovered dead minutes after entering the palace."

Her lips curled. "So it's all about appearances."

"Of course," Aithur said, almost cheerfully. "You think I'd risk my neck for him?"

"HEY!" Harold yelled from behind them. "I can hear you!"

Mina and Aithur both ignored him.

Finally, with a frustrated growl, Mina leapt backward. Her form dissolved into black smoke, merging into her shadow on the ground.

Aithur's sword fell a fraction of an inch. The silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by Harold's wheezing gasps and the faintest possible touch of the breeze.

Nothing happened for an instant. Then—her shadow began to move, flowing across the stone floor as if it had life before disappearing completely.

Aithur looked where she'd vanished. He smiled to himself, silently, as he whistled softly, "I wonder if she'll return."

Harold whimpered behind him, robes dusty as he rubbed his head. "Oh, for the love of all things holy, please don't let her return. I'm pretty sure I aged ten years just now.".

Aithur sheathed his blade with a smooth motion, the soft susurration of metal over leather echoing in the air. His eyes turned introspective, though the slight smile never left them.

"Relax," he said to Harold, glancing back over his shoulder. "If she does get back, I'll let her pursue you first the next time."

Harold's shocked face said it all. "That's not funny!"

Aithur gave him a sharp look.

"That wasn't a joke.".