After that, the door of the only place I had left in the world slammed shut, quite literally. My neighbour, the one who had taken me in, looked at me with a mixture of fear and disgust, holding the stump of his son's hand wrapped in bloody cloth. The village elders, who had once patted my head and praised my skills, now stood behind him, their faces grim and unforgiving. They didn't ask why. They didn't need to. To them, I had attacked one of their own, a boy who had offered me shelter when I had nothing. The reasons didn't matter. My strength, which they had once admired in sparring matches, now terrified them. I was a problem they couldn't contain. They threw me out.
After that, I went to the closest city and started living ordinary life. Or what passed for one for a newly orphaned, hyper-mature demi-human child who had just committed grievous bodily harm to her guardian. The city was a chaotic, indifferent beast. Noise, smells, too many people crammed together, none of whom cared about a solitary girl with nothing but the clothes on her back and a rapidly growing understanding of the world's ugliness. Finding food meant scavenging or selling small, low-level monster cores. Finding shelter meant finding forgotten alleyways or venturing into the less-than-savory parts of town.
I had to increase my level too. Survival demanded it. So I always searched for stronger monsters. The forests surrounding the city were my training ground. Rabbits, wolves, boars – they fell quickly enough, but the experience gain was paltry. It was a slow, frustrating grind, a constant reminder of how far I was from the strength I needed.
There were also times when I almost died. Encounters with packs of higher-level beasts, misjudging a monster's attack pattern, or simply collapsing from exhaustion and hunger far from any help. Each near-death experience chipped away at my innocence, hardening my resolve and sharpening my instincts. Survival wasn't about being good; it was about being cunning, ruthless, and enduring.
I mostly lived in the forest. It was safer, quieter, and offered more opportunities for hunting than the city streets. The trees became my roof, the rustling leaves my lullaby. Solitude became my closest companion, a silent observer of my grim routine.
I also came across bandits and other bad peoples. They preyed on travelers, sometimes venturing too close to the city's outskirts. They were mostly after my body. A young girl, alone, pretty – I was an easy target in their eyes. The first time, fear seized me. But then anger, cold and sharp, sliced through it. They saw prey; I saw a chance. A chance to unleash the violence that simmered beneath my skin, born of grief and betrayal.
The thing is, I liked encountering them. They gave much more exp than monsters. Killing a pack of wolves might give me a few points, but taking down a group of bandits? The numbers were significantly higher. It was a dark revelation, discovering that the lives of twisted men were more 'valuable' for my growth than the lives of beasts. It didn't bother me as much as it perhaps should have. They were cruel; I simply returned their cruelty with finality. Each fight was brutal, messy, a desperate dance between victim and victor. I sustained injuries, sometimes severe, but I learned fast. Learned where to strike, how to dodge, how to use their arrogance against them.
Four years after the death of my parents, when I was 13 years old, I heard that hero summoning will happen in a year. The news spread like wildfire, sparking hope in the hearts of many. For me, it was a beacon in the darkness. The Shield Hero. My Shield Hero. The one I had dreamed of, the one I had clung to as my reason for living. He was coming.
The four heroes will be summoned by four major countries, one each. I also heard that shield hero is being summoned in our country. The rumors seemed certain. He would be here, in the Shieldfreeden. This was my chance.
In our country, people will have to join the knights order for a while and prove themselves to join hero's party. Also, no matter how many people join the knights order, only 3 will be selected. The requirements were strict, the competition fierce. Knights Order. Me? Formal training? The thought was almost laughable. My fighting style was a chaotic, instinctual blend of what my father taught me, what I learned from monsters, and sheer, desperate improvisation.
But I had to try. I went to join the knights order. The required age was 15+ and I was only 13 years old. Lying was easy. I had perfected the art of crafting a believable facade. So I lied and told them that I am 16 years old. When they asked for verification, I told them that all my family is dead and some other sad things so that they would sympathize with me. Tears were a surprisingly effective weapon, especially when combined with a carefully constructed narrative of hardship. With this and by a bit of manipulation – a well-placed tear, a trembling lip, a downcast gaze that hinted at unspeakable trauma – I joined the knights order.
The training was... structured. Repetitive. They practiced forms, stances, specific techniques for specific weapons. It felt rigid, predictable. Everyone here knew more than 3 sword styles, but I knew only one, which I mostly forgot. My body moved on instinct, reacting to threats rather than following prescribed patterns. But this didn't bother me at all; I mostly fought using my instincts. My lack of formal style became my advantage. Since I wasn't using any sword styles, it was difficult for them to predict my moves. My movements were fluid, erratic, capitalizing on openings they didn't even realize they were creating because they were too focused on their textbook techniques. Not a single trainee ever managed to defeat me. They sparred with me, their faces a mixture of frustration and awe. Sensei, a grizzled veteran, watched me with a puzzled, intrigued expression, unable to categorize my fighting.
It has been 3 months since I joined knight order. I had proven myself. I was the strongest, the most promising. I am sure that I will join shield hero's party. I could almost see it: standing beside him, helping him, finally fulfilling the purpose I had clung to through years of hardship.
But then, I heard that shield hero has been summoned in malromarc. The words hit me like a physical blow. Melromarc. Not here. Not Shieldfreeden. Melromarc, the country I knew little about, far across the borders. A surge of panic, cold and sharp, pierced through my certainty. All this effort, all this planning... for nothing?
No. Not for nothing. He was still here, in this world. Just in a different place. My goal hadn't changed, only the path to reach it. The Knights Order, this country, they were no longer the route to him. Staying here was pointless.
Without a second thought, I ran away from the knights order. I slipped out under the cover of darkness, leaving behind the rigid structure and the bewildered faces of those I had surpassed. Melromarc. I would go to Melromarc. Wherever the Shield Hero was, that's where I needed to be. The journey would be long, dangerous, but compared to what I had already overcome, it was just another obstacle. Another step on the path to my destiny.
The worn cobblestones of the Melromarc capital felt foreign beneath my boots, a stark contrast to the packed earth of training grounds and the damp soil of the forest floors I'd called home. Every step was charged with urgency, a desperate race against a future I was determined to shape. I'd fled the knights' order without a second glance, leaving behind bewildered faces and the rigid structure I'd endured solely for the chance to be here, now. The rumors that the Shield Hero had been summoned here, not in my own country as I'd been led to believe, had sent a jolt of adrenaline mixed with panic through me. I had to reach him. Immediately.
I reached the city gates, breathless, my heart hammering against my ribs not from exertion, but from anticipation. He was here. My Shield Hero.
The air in the capital hummed with whispers. Shield Hero this, Shield Hero that. I listened intently, sorting through the noise. But the stories… they weren't what I expected. Betrayal. Accusations. Villiany. The capital seemed united in its disdain for him.
At first, a cold dread gripped me. Was it true? Could my Shield Hero, the one I'd dreamed of standing beside, be… like that? But as I heard more, a different thought, a frankly horrifying one, began to take root. They said he had assaulted someone. That he was a monster. Yet… wasn't he a man? Perhaps, after being summoned so suddenly, thrust into a new world, alone… perhaps his urges simply got the better of him. It wasn't ideal, of course. I wished he could have waited. Waited for me. I wouldn't have made him suppress anything. I would have welcomed…
A flicker of possessiveness, hot and sharp, pierced through the swirling thoughts. That girl. How dare she accuse him? How dare she deny the Shield Hero? She wasn't worthy. If he had chosen her, even for a moment, she should have been eternally grateful, bending to his every whim. The thought of her declining him, of turning away the Hero she was supposedly meant to support, filled me with a strange, protective fury on his behalf.
Then, the strategic part of my mind, the part honed by years of solitary survival, clicked into place. Everyone hated him. Shunned him. Good. Perfect, even. If the other heroes had parties, if the capital adored them, it would be impossible for me to get close, to stand out. But the Shield Hero was alone. Isolated. He would need someone. Someone who didn't believe the lies. Someone who understood. Someone like me. This wasn't a setback; it was an opportunity. A twisted, painful opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless. It would be so much easier now to join him, to gain his trust when everyone else turned their backs.
My search began with a renewed sense of purpose. I went from tavern to shop, asking anyone who would listen about the Shield Hero. My questions were met with wary eyes, hushed warnings, and often, outright hostility directed at me for even asking.
"You want to join his party?" A gruff merchant scoffed, wiping down his counter. "Are you crazy, girl? Stay away from that devil!"
"He beat up adventurers who tried to join him!" A woman whispered, pulling her child closer. "Said he didn't need anyone!"
Beat them up? Didn't need anyone? The rumors painted a picture of a bitter, violent man. It was… different from the heroic figure I'd envisioned, but the undercurrent of raw power, the refusal to be like the others, still resonated. He was strong in his defiance, even if it manifested as cruelty. It only solidified my resolve. He needed someone who could handle his edges.
They said he often hunted orange balloons in the grasslands outside the city and sold their remains at a specific weapon shop near the main gate. Hope, sharp and sudden, flared in my chest. This was it. My chance.
I practically ran to the shop, my eyes scanning the interior, the street outside. And there. Just exiting the door, a figure unmistakable even from a distance. A man with dark, unruly hair, clad in simple clothes, and bearing a plain, round shield.
My Shield Hero.
My heart leaped, a frantic, joyful bird trapped in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to quell the tremor in my hands. I had planned this moment a thousand times. I would approach him calmly, respectfully. Explain my loyalty, my strength, my unwavering belief in him.
"Excuse me!" I called out, stepping forward.
He turned his head slightly, not fully facing me. His expression was unreadable, distant.
"I… I want to join your party!" I blurted out, perhaps a little too eagerly. "I heard you were looking for companions, and I–"
"I don't need anyone," he cut me off, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He still wasn't looking at me, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond my shoulder. "Especially not a girl."
The casual dismissal stung more than any insult. Not looking at me? As if I were insignificant? After everything? After I'd come all this way, endured what I had, all for him?
"But… but I'm strong!" I pressed, desperate to make him see. "My level is high, I can handle myself! I ran away from home, from everything, just to find you! Please, Shield Hero, I believe in you, I know you're not like they say!"
I poured out my carefully rehearsed pleas, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts. I spoke of loyalty, of strength, of being a shield for his shield. I watched his profile, searching for any sign of acknowledgement, any flicker of interest.
Nothing.
He started to walk past me, his steps unhurried, uncaring. Panic seized me. I couldn't let him go. Not like this. Not when I was so close.
Acting purely on instinct, I reached out and grabbed his arm.
For the first time since I'd called out to him, he stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, and his eyes locked onto mine.
The air seemed to freeze. The casual indifference was gone, replaced by something else entirely. His eyes, dark and depthless, were burning with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. It wasn't just anger; it was a cold, controlled rage, honed by something I couldn't comprehend. A raw, terrifying power coiled beneath the surface, something far more potent than any monster's killing intent I had ever faced. The bandits, the creatures, the corrupted knights – their threats felt like a summer breeze compared to the silent storm in his gaze.
And then he spoke, his voice low, a dangerous growl that vibrated in the very air between us.
"If you don't want to die, get lost."
My hand fell away as if burned. My body, trained to react to danger, to fight or flee, was frozen in place. The raw threat was explicit, terrifying, but it was the utter emptiness behind it, the casual willingness to extinguish my life without a second thought, that truly paralyzed me.
He turned away again, resuming his slow walk, leaving me standing alone on the cobblestone street, the noise of the city rushing back in, deafening after the silence of that moment.
He didn't need me. The person I had dedicated my life to, the dream I had clung to through loneliness, pain, and betrayal… he didn't need me. The world I had decided to keep living in, solely for the purpose of reaching him, suddenly felt hollow, meaningless. What was the point? What was the purpose of my strength, my survival, my very existence, if the one person who mattered didn't want it?
A chilling calmness settled over me. There was nothing left. The path I had carved, the future I had envisioned, had just been erased by a single, indifferent sentence.
Death. It had seemed like the coward's way out before, but now… now it felt like the only logical conclusion. A release from a purpose that no longer existed.
I walked, directionless at first, then with a growing certainty. Out of the city gates, towards the cliffs that overlooked the sea. The wind whipped my hair around my face, cold and biting, but I barely felt it.
I reached the edge, the waves crashing far below. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, beautiful and indifferent. I closed my eyes, picturing my parents, Gerard's betrayed face, the mocking grins of the knights. And finally, Shield Hero's rage-filled eyes, the last image burned into my mind.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped off the cliff. The air rushed past me, the sound a roar in my ears. It was over. My meaningless life… finally ending.
Then, everything went black.
I thought it was the end. The wind whipped past my face, tearing at my hair as I plummeted towards the jagged rocks below. It was relief, a sweet release from a world that had proven too cruel, too indifferent to my singular, desperate dream. Shield Hero didn't need me. My purpose was null. Goodbye, cruel world. Goodbye, future I yearned for.
But instead of the shattering impact, I felt a dizzying lurch, a sickening twist in my gut, and then… solid ground beneath me. The scent of damp earth and pine filled my nostrils, and when I opened my eyes, sunlight filtered through a canopy of unfamiliar trees. I was in a forest, untouched by the sea cliffs I'd just thrown myself from.
Shieldfreeden. I knew the trees, the very air. The demi-human country. How? Why?
Then, the chilling, exhilarating realization hit me. Time travel. I'd somehow, impossibly, come back.
Back to before. Before the summoning, before the rumors, before the rage in his eyes. Before Shield Hero needed no one.
A frantic energy surged through me. This was it. My second chance. The gods, or whatever force governed this world, had seen my devotion, my sacrifice, and granted me a miracle. This time, I wouldn't fail. This time, I would be chosen. I would stand by his side.
But there was a complication. I was in Shieldfreeden, and he would be summoned in Melromarc, a country where demi-humans were… less than welcome. If I showed up at the castle with my ears and tail visible, I'd be lucky to just be turned away. More likely, I'd be sold, imprisoned, or worse. Melromarc's prejudice was well-known, a festering wound between our nations.
Adapt. Survive. My life had taught me nothing else. Melromarc hated demi-humans? Fine. I'd learn to hide what I was. Illusion magic. If I could make them see a human girl, my race wouldn't be a barrier. I dedicated the three months I had to rigorous training, not just in sword skills, but in bending perception, in crafting a believable human facade. It was draining, taxing on my mana, but necessary.
Finally, the time came. I made the journey to Melromarc, my illusion shimmering, a constant drain but a vital shield. I mingled with the crowds, keeping my ears and tail tightly bound beneath my clothes, the unfamiliar stiffness a constant reminder of the lie I was living. I heard the whispers, the excitement about the upcoming hero summoning. And I gathered information.
Who were the hopefuls? Who was vying for a spot in the heroes' parties? I saw the faces, the self-important knights, the eager adventurers. I noted the few selected to stand in the audience chamber when the heroes arrived. And I focused on the Shield Hero's potential party.
Only one girl. In the Shield Hero's group. Her name was Myne. A knight. She looked… ordinary. Not particularly strong, not remarkably beautiful. Was this the girl? The one the rumors would soon be about? The one Shield Hero supposedly defiled?
My blood boiled at the thought. How dare he? After everything I'd endured, after waiting for him, dreaming of him, he'd just… take some random girl? And how dare she? She wasn't worthy! He was mine!
My initial, raw instinct was violent. Kill her. Eliminate the competition before she could even stand beside him. It would be easy. A quick blade in the dark, a staged accident… no one would suspect the quiet, illusion-clad demi-human watching from the shadows.
But then I remembered. The rumors in the original timeline. The speed with which they spread, the absolute conviction everyone seemed to have in his guilt. It happened on the first day she joined his party. Something about it felt… off.
I'd survived by trusting my instincts, by observing, by seeing the hidden currents beneath the surface. What if the rumors were lies? What if he hadn't done it? What if he had been framed?
My memories of him, however brief and filled with rage, didn't fit the picture of a rapist. His eyes, even when furious, held a different kind of pain. My hypothesis solidified: Shield Hero was not a villain. He was betrayed.
This changed things. Killing that girl was too simple, too crude. If he was framed, removing her wouldn't necessarily prevent the framing. A new plan began to form, more complex, more... Alna.
I'd observe. If he truly tried to force himself on her, I'd intervene. Publicly, perhaps, to make sure he couldn't deny it later. Then, I would threaten Myne. Make her confess the framing, or at least corroborate a story that painted him as the victim, not the aggressor. I'd leverage the situation, ensure Myne was removed from his party (perhaps citing irreconcilable differences or trauma from the false accusation I orchestrated), and then, in his moment of need, I would step forward. The faithful demi-human adventurer who saw his true character, who wasn't afraid of the rumors. He would have to accept me. It was perfect.
I'll make shield hero disband the party with her. After that, I'll party up with him. Wow alna, you're a genius.
And then, he kicked her out. Just like that. No public scandal, no accusation of assault, nothing. He simply... dismissed her. And then, he walked away. Alone.
He headed back to the grasslands, the place where he began his grueling, solitary journey in the previous timeline. I followed, compelled, my previous plan scattering like dust in the wind. The future had changed because I came back. But how? And why was he alone again?
I watched from the edge of the woods as he stopped beside a tree. His body language was tense, coiled with suppressed emotion. And then, he exploded.
"What do you mean, not in vain? You goddamn hypocriite!!"
He screamed at himself, at the tree, at the empty air. His words were a confusing torrent, hinting at a past life, at regrets, at a deep, searing pain I hadn't seen before.
"I also wanted people I could rely on, I also wanted people who rely on me. I also wanted to be happy. I'm glad that I'm alone again? You goddamn liarr!"
Hypocrite? Liar? What had happened to him? He wasn't supposed to be like this so soon. The despair, the bitterness, it usually took weeks of betrayal and hardship to etch itself onto the Shield Hero's soul. Seeing it raw, unleashed, aimed at himself… it was unsettling. And strangely, it stirred something unexpected within me – a flicker of sympathy, a genuine ache for the suffering I witnessed.
But the practical side of my mind quickly reasserted itself. He was alone. Vulnerable. And clearly carrying immense emotional baggage. This was an opportunity, albeit a twisted one. The framed hero narrative was gone, but a different angle presented itself. The broken, isolated hero who needed someone.
He calmed down eventually, leaving the tree splintered and his hands bloody. He was lost in thought, vulnerable. This was my chance. I stepped out from behind the trees, trying to project an image of simple concern, not stalker.
"Excuse me, are you alright?"
He reacted instantly, whipping his head around. His guard was up, but his eyes, even through the anger, were still raw with recent pain. He bombarded me with questions, demanding to know who I was, why I was there. I spun a story, a carefully constructed lie about being an adventurer down on her luck, sleeping in trees because inns were too expensive. It was believable enough, playing on the common struggles of low-level adventurers.
I tried to engage him, to offer help, friendship. To position myself as the kind, supportive companion he desperately needed. But he shut me down, his voice cold, his eyes distant.
"If you hate talking to me that much then alright, I won't bother you." I said, playing the part of the dejected potential friend, turning to leave. The plan was to make him stop me, to make him realize he did need someone. But as I walked away, the chilling thought crept in. What if he didn't? What if he was truly fine being alone? What if the time travel hadn't fixed things, but merely shifted the timeline of his suffering?
Maybe I should just leave. Go back to my own life, whatever that looked like now. He didn't need me. He had made that clear.
But then another thought, a more desperate, more ruthless one, took root. He was alone. He had no party, no one to rely on. And I… I was Level 33. I was strong. I could force the issue. If he wouldn't choose me, I would make him take me. Not through kindness, not through friendship, but through something undeniable.
I was going to the forest, planning to disappear, to rethink everything, maybe come up with another convoluted scheme, when I heard his voice.
"Hey, wait. Where are you going?"
He stopped me. The plan shifted again, taking a dark, predatory turn. He didn't want a companion? Fine. Maybe he wanted something else. Something a beautiful, strong girl could provide when he was at his lowest point, alone and hurting.
He didn't know about my level. He didn't know about my past. He didn't know the lengths I would go to. And I, the girl who dreamed of being his devoted wife, was about to use every manipulative trick, every instinct for survival I possessed, to bind him to me, even if it was through fear, obligation, or something far more primal.
My peaceful life with Shield Hero would start. One way or another.
"What? Feeling lonely?" I said, letting a smirk play on my lips as he emerged from the shadows. The game had just begun.
After that, we all know what happened