The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?

"The capital!"

"Hell no!"

Luther's voice echoed through the temple corridor like a thunderclap. The heavy oak doors of the meeting room slammed open, shaking on their hinges as he stormed out, his boots hitting the marble floor with controlled fury. His expression was blank—but the kind of blank that screamed murder beneath the surface.

"Saint, wait!" Elder Nimo called, his round face red from running. Elder Haro wasn't far behind, half stumbling in his haste, clutching his scrolls to his chest like they might protect him from Luther's wrath.

Behind them, Liliana exited the room more composed, her red hair glinting in the temple's light, though her black eyes followed Luther's back with quiet wariness.

"Saint, please," Haro puffed as he stepped in front of Luther, blocking his path. "Perhaps we can still reason this out—"

Luther stopped, staring at him. His mouth didn't move, but his thoughts screamed loud enough to crack the walls.

The capital! The damn place I vowed never to set foot in even if it was the last place in this damn world—and now they're telling me the king himself ordered my presence for the Capital Festival? And Liliana—he turned his gaze to her briefly—was assigned to escort me back like I'm some runaway priest? Unbelievable.

He crossed his arms, his cloak no longer on him, revealing the gold-white uniform of the temple beneath. The blue crystal earring on his left ear shimmered faintly, pulsing with his rising irritation.

"Saint Luther," Elder Nimo began again carefully, "the festival is a royal decree—"

"I heard you the first time," Luther cut him off dryly. "No need to repeat yourself like a broken bell."

Elder Haro winced, but Nimo pressed on, "This is an opportunity to show the temple's unity with the crown—"

"Unity, huh?" Luther muttered, his ocean blue eyes narrowing. Unity between fools and flatterers, maybe.

He shifted his weight, glaring toward the distant sunlight bleeding through the temple windows.

The Capital Festival… the "Sun Dethrone." It celebrated the royal family and the god Asmethan—the day that the god supposedly blessed Aoriphian, the first king, giving him the divine right to rule. Every descendant bore the name Asme from the god's title, and only those of the direct bloodline could inherit the throne. Male or female, it didn't matter; the crown passed only to the firstborn. The current king's mother had been the previous ruler—a fact Luther found amusing and tragic in equal measure.

But beneath the glittering festival banners, Luther knew the truth. The festival marked the first spark that would ignite chaos in the book—the beginning of 'Capital in Flames,' the disaster that turned the golden city into a burning ruin.

He remembered it all. The Crown Prince, Mark Asme, had orchestrated the horror. He had gathered criminals, dressed them as royal guards, and planted them throughout the capital. They'd hidden explosive bombs infused with corrupted mana that would, upon detonation, twist any nearby creature—including humans—into monsters.

And those bombs could only be activated through the blood of a holy apprentice.

His brows furrowed. Wait. Wasn't it supposed to be a high apprentice's blood? he thought. The temple has no high apprentice right now—unless… His jaw tightened. Unless something's changed. And that's never good.

He sighed, looking at Liliana again. She stood quietly, her eyes soft but distant. Her attention wasn't on him—it was on the black-clothed sword slung behind him.

The demonic sword.

Even through its cover, its dark aura pulsed faintly, reacting to his holy energy. Her stare was sharp enough to pierce through steel.

And then, as if reading his thoughts, the sword's voice growled in Luther's mind.

"Tell that glowing doll to stop staring at me! If looks could melt steel, I'd be a puddle!"

Not now, Luther thought, already rubbing his temple.

"Her eyes are burning holes through my soul, Boy! Make her stop!"

He lifted his hand abruptly, stopping the elders mid-sentence. "Enough."

They froze.

He gave them a half-lidded, unimpressed stare. "I've heard enough of your rehearsed speeches. I don't need another reminder about 'royal invitations' or 'divine unity.'"

"B-But Saint Luther—"

He ignored them and asked instead, "What about the preparations for the Enferi Forest mission?"

Both elders went silent.

Luther's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you forgot."

They exchanged nervous glances.

"You forgot," Luther said flatly.

"No, no, we didn't forget exactly—" Elder Nimo began, scratching his bald head.

Luther raised a brow. "Oh? So the paperwork's done, the carriage is prepared, the barrier wards are ready, and the purification rites are set?"

Their silence was deafening.

Luther sighed deeply, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable. Ridiculous old fools."

The sword chuckled in his mind. "Oh, I like that one. You should call them that more often."

"Shut up," Luther shot back mentally.

He forced a small, exasperated chuckle. "So let me get this straight," he said aloud. "You old geezers accepted a healing request from a town next to the forest without telling me, and now that I've agreed to take responsibility, you want to ditch it because some fancy king snapped his fingers?"

"Saint Luther, it's not that simple—"

"Simple?" he snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound echoing through the temple hall. The marble cracked faintly under his strength. "Tell me, does the king control this temple?!"

Both elders flinched.

"Answer me!"

Silence.

"Exactly," he said bitterly. "If your king were a cruel man, would you scatter like flies just to please him? Or would you remember who you serve first—the people, or your crowns?"

Nimo's mouth opened, but no sound came.

Luther exhaled, dragging a hand through his messy hair. His ocean blue eyes flicked to Liliana, who still hadn't said a word.

"As for me," he said, his tone calmer but firm, "I won't be going to the capital. Not now. There are more pressing matters to handle."

He smirked faintly. "Besides, I wouldn't want to upstage the royal family by showing up."

That earned a muffled laugh from one of the guards standing nearby. Elder Haro glared at the poor man, but Luther grinned.

"See? At least someone gets it," he said with a teasing shrug.

He turned to leave, cloak fluttering behind him. Finally, a way to dodge that royal mess, he thought, relief washing over him.

But then—

Click.

He froze. Slowly, he turned back.

Liliana was kneeling.

Her hands were clasped before her chest, and her head was bowed low. Her red hair fell over her shoulders like a shining veil.

Luther blinked. "Oh, no," he muttered under his breath. "No, no, don't you dare—"

"Saint Luther," she said softly, her voice echoing through the quiet hall. "If that is your decision, then so be it."

Elder Haro and Nimo watched her in confusion.

"I will accompany the Saint to the Enferi Forest," she continued, "before venturing to the capital."

Luther's jaw dropped.

She didn't.

The sword wheezed in his head, barely containing laughter. "Oh, she did! You're doomed, golden boy!"

Luther's eyelid twitched.

"You've got to be kidding me."