What, another story that will be abandoned in a matter of days?
Had a little plot idea today, wrote up a short bit that started growing, and before I knew it in a couple of hours I had a chapter. I'll probably go back to my Hades/Danmachi story again, or juggle another idea I've been toying with (that again, will probably be left to the wayside). Figured I might as well post this out, since I already have it written.
Of course, for those who actually read my other writing, I said the same thing about literally every story (stares at the unfinished several thousand word drafts of the next chapters of Yet Another Hero, Prima Materia, A Raven's Flock, A Wizard's Vacation, and Amber Journey that will probably never see the light of day).
Were you really a monster in the end? A warlord, an alien administrator? A vicious killer with a cruel streak, mutilating your enemies and secretly enjoying it? A bully, if you forgive me for using that word?
As my spiders spun their intricate web, carried atop dragonflies to make the tight turns and manoeuvres required for my work, my final conversation back on the Earth I knew came once more to my mind.
I didn't know how long it had been since then. Months? Had it been a year yet? Time was beginning to bleed together. I didn't know whether it was because of the bullshit attempt at Thinker-powered microsurgery Contessa had done on me, or because I simply avoided keeping track of my days.
Or were you really a hero? Do the good intentions win out? Was it Glaistig Uaine's strength or yours, that held her back from saving Scion in those final moments?
"Why does it matter?"
Because I think you have a chance to come back from this. Not much of a chance. Part of that rides on me. I could help you, or I could stop you from troubling anyone ever again. Part of that? It's up to you to win the fight, to take control and keep the administrator from claiming everything you have, leaving you a shell.
I remembered my answer. Those last moments as Khepri had haunted me ever since I woke up to a foreign world shut off from all the other Earths, without Contessa or any other Parahuman anywhere near me, my only parting souvenir of that day the two scars left courtesy of Contessa's bullets.
I had been fully expecting to die that day.
I didn't.
And so, I was making good on my promise.
Would you do it all over again? Knowing what you know now? Knowing that you end up here, at gunpoint?
I… know I'm supposed to say yes. But no. Somewhere along way, it became no.
The spider-silk armguard was taking shape, now. Once that was done, all I needed was to start harvesting the arachnids and arthropods I had waiting for their chitin, and begin shaping and piecing together a harder shell for a double layer of protection with the thousands of bugs I had in my little shop.
"Just about everyone comes to this crossroad," Contessa had said. "Some get seventy years, some only get fifteen. Enough time to grow, to take stock of who you are. Enough time to do things you'll regret when you run out of time."
Scion had to be stopped. I did not regret that. Asking Panacea for her help – becoming Khepri – that had been the only way that all the scattered capes could have banded together to defeat Scion. Separated by their differences, crippled by fear, it had taken an iron hand and more than the Warlord Skitter to force their cooperation.
It had to be me. I was the only one who could do it. Anyone else would have gotten it wrong.
No – I did not regret what I chose to do that day. Sacrifices had been made, and I had gone down a path of no return, but it had been necessary.
What I regretted were some of the other actions I had taken.
Giving too much power to wrong people. To bullies. Protect some, pay less attention to others.
I remembered who I had been, at the end. Khepri. Taylor. Queen Administrator. One by one, the little threads keeping me anchored had been cut, turning me more into the Passenger that formed a connection to my Corona Pollentia than Taylor Hebert the human.
I had no desire to be like that ever again. The days of Skitter the Warlord, Weaver the Hero, and Khepri the Monster were over.
Within moments, my swarm was done with their job. Idly, the cockroaches I had in waiting carried the finished product over to one of the shelves in the store, ready for the Adventurers that would come in once I opened the store. It was enough to exercise control over my power and keep that little itch scratched, but nowhere near to what I had been capable of in my final hours facing off against Scion.
Ever since arriving in this world, the fact that I wasn't utilising my power to its maximum potential never bothered me. I had no inclination of returning to who I had been. Whatever Contessa had done had not only reversed Panacea's botched job over my Passenger, but also shut down whatever natural propensity it was for my Passenger to demand its power to be used.
I thought so, at least. It might just be me making good on what I tried telling Contessa, but given my track record that was unlikely.
These days, I was simply Taylor Hebert, reclusive owner of Hebert's Adventuring Supplies. A small corner store in Orario, if I was allowed to toot my own horn, it had a slight reputation in the local area for providing cheap wares to new Adventurers. Foodstuff, rope, torches, and everyday equipment needed to survive in the early floors of the Dungeon – those were the goods I provided. Once they passed a certain threshold, most Adventurers continued going up the ladder, purchasing their goods and equipment from the established Familias within Orario.
I didn't mind. It was enough for my livelihood, helped me maintain a low profile, and didn't risk me making the same mistakes I had made.
Like I said, my days playing the foolish game of heroes and villains were over.
It had been surprising, at first, when I had appeared on a little field in the middle of nowhere, my senses thankfully returned to as close enough to human as they could be. I didn't know how Contessa had managed that feat, or which Mover had been capable of teleporting me to a world untouched by Scion's rampage after I fully drained Doormaker's Passenger of its power, but I had resolved to put my past behind. The less I thought about those days, the better.
I learned of this world. Gods existed, and they lowered themselves to the levels of mortals, and offered a fraction of their gifts to mortals in the form of Falna. That had sent warning bells in my mind – Scion had, after all, been convinced by Kevin Norton to be 'a hero', leaving that to the alien Entity's own interpretation. I had been all ready to bear arms once more, before finding that these Gods were far more amiable than the Entities had been. Contrary to my own experiences on Earth Bet, Gods actually communicated with and genuinely adored the members of their Familia, and as far as I could tell had no secret desire to use the lives of their children as part of a grand cycle to refine their own powers.
Then there were these Three Grand Quests. It wasn't hard to immediately associate them with the Endbringers, what with two of them being named Leviathan and Behemoth. Of course, the devastation they caused didn't even come anywhere close to what those of Earth Bet had been capable of. Those that had been defeated didn't seem to return, and even that last remaining Black Dragon or something seemed content to lay low in whatever little corner of the world it was hiding in.
Months passed. I watched and waited, for just a single sign of the Gods behaving in ways that Scion had, or of a sudden Endbringer attack the likes of the ones on Brockton Bay, New Delhi or the others that I had taken part in, but my fears never came true. Eventually, I was convinced that this new life Contessa had given me was one where I could genuinely start anew, and I made sure to make the best of it.
I had to. For the people I'd betrayed, for the people I couldn't save, and for the mistakes I had made. Hebert's Adventuring Supplies was my penance.
Still, I had no interest in being part of a Familia. People aside, who knew what my Status might reveal about the literal alien parasite sitting in my brain that gave me my powers?
I stood up from where I lay on the bed in my bedroom on the second floor of the store. Stashed aside in one corner were the Tinkertech flight-pack that Dragon and Defiant had designed for me, along with the ruins of my costume from that day. Contessa hadn't seen fit to restore my right arm that I had lost during Scion's rampage, but it scarcely hindered me. Most of the fine work was done by my reduced swarm, and truth be told I barely did any work that required two functional upper limbs these days.
With my good hand, I turned the doorknob, and made my way downstairs. It was a habit I cultivated for myself – while I could have taken inventory of my store through the hundreds of thousands of feelers on the bugs at my command, or seen everything going on through thousands of sets of compound eyes, I made it a point to reclaim my humanity after losing it all as Khepri.
This was inefficient, but it was human.
On one row, a few shelves of potions were laid out. They weren't of the highest quality, but it was enough to sustain my livelihood. Sourced from the Miach Familia's store, my profit margin wasn't huge, but some Adventurers still bought them from me rather than the supplier on the other end of town, driven by pure convenience's sake when they perused my other wares.
The real selling point I had, though, were my original creations. Marketed as 'unbreakable rope', braided spider-silk was lightweight, and yet with enough tensile strength to support immense loads. It wasn't at the level of the bullshit magical supplies reminiscent of Tinkertech in the level of bullshitiness they had that specialised Familias could provide, but for journeymen Adventurers, it was a godsend.
I would know. It may have been a different world, and I hadn't been diving down into the Dungeon facing all sorts of fantasy creatures that my mother would have loved to see, but mundane spider silk had saved my life and put fear into the eyes of my enemies many times over.
Joining it were 'glow-orbs', a little gimmick I made from harvesting luciferin and other fluorescent compounds of the glow-worms and fireflies that I bred. Truth be told, I thought it was stupid to carry something like that which practically painted a target on your back when in the Dungeon, but apparently people liked it for the ease of carrying and their superiority to the flickering of torches.
Then there were my most popular products. Many a goblin's attack had been stopped by arm vambraces and bodysuits made of spider-silk that I continually kept up production of. They weren't my finest work – I wasn't about to reveal my powers, lest I attracted undue attention when all I wanted was to be left alone. If I so desired, I could have used Darwin's Bark spiders, or the other local varieties that had similar or greater tensile strengths, to make armour tougher than Kevlar.
And, of course, there were the goods I could create from monsters.
I didn't have an interest in going down into the Dungeon. I left that life behind. Whatever force it was that governed this Dungeon that extended down for an unknown depth below the Tower of Babel, it also kept my power from penetrating inside its walls. It was good; I didn't want to be given the temptation of controlling a hundred-legged insect that somehow registered to my power, a crustacean that shot jets of acid, or many other likewise monsters I had read about in my free time.
Still, there were the occasional monsters on the surface, either escapees from the Dungeon or those roaming outside Orario's walls. With my range returning to the six city blocks it had once been, the moment they came just a little too close, I had been allowed full control over their actions.
Whenever that happened, I would dismiss them, immediately pushing them out of my range. It was too slippery a slope for me to go down. I would know – I had gone from debuting as a wannabe Hero, to emasculating a man that transformed into a dragon with the help of the venom of my bugs overnight. With the stingers of Deadly Hornets, the durability and strength of Mad Beetles I might give a mild Brute rating for, the easily-overlooked threat of sharp teeth of swarming Dungeon Worms, the poison of Purple Moths, and the numbers and deceptive strength and speed of Killer Ants, I could do so, so much more – and those were just by monsters down to somewhere in the twentieth floor.
Methodically, I inspected the merchandise. A reasonable number of potions – 600 Valis each, up from the 500 sold by the Miach Familia. Basic armour – 6000 Valis, a competitive price to the 5000 of the light armour recommended to newbie adventurers by the Guild. For those wanting something a little higher grade, there was my newest creation advertised as lightweight wristguards with some storage space, an alternative to the Green Supporter sold by the Guild at 8000 Valis.
Casting my mundane eyes across the room, making sure that there was no dust on the shelves, I nodded. The store was ready.
Then, I called off my swarm, sending those in the store area skittering back upstairs. The workshop upstairs was still in full swing, the spiders, dragonflies, ants, and other varieties of insects and arachnids hard at work churning out more product. I needed a good turnover, because fresh-faced Adventurers ruined my goods surprisingly often.
Stepping over to a nearby rack, I threw a coat over myself, hiding the missing arm from view. Then, I flipped the sign from Closed to Open, and readied myself for the customers of the day.
Simple. Mundane. Perhaps a little cheating, since I used my powers to create my products, but I could keep that much in check while still scratching that itch.
It had been my life for months now. Perhaps almost a year. Taylor Hebert, the humble little store owner near Daedalus Street. Never seen often out in public, except to make quick supply runs while hiding herself under her cloak. That was the reputation I had. My store wasn't close to where most of the stores were over in Market Square, and that helped keep my profile low.
Of course, with my swarm, I heard the rumours surrounding me. Hard not to, really.
She's an Adventurer who lost everyone from her Familia, someone had said. That's why she hides herself! She's afraid of going outside after that!
Poor thing. I hardly even see her step outside anymore, except to buy supplies.
You don't know which Familia she's from, do you?
Who knows? You see this sort all the time, anyway. Adventurers who lost all their comrades… it's sad, but she's not the only case.
Funny. They were so close to the truth, but also so wrong.
I was not some shell-shocked, traumatised veteran of war. I liked to think of myself as reasonably well-adjusted.
All I wanted was to live a quiet little life, free from all the escalation bullshit in my time as Skitter, from the media's attention and the responsibility of preventing the End of the World while I was Weaver, and from being forced to make the choices I had at the cost of my humanity while as Khepri. The Dungeon was for Adventurers and their Gods. The other Familias might have their petty squabbles and arguments, occasionally devolving into bloodshed, but so long as it didn't affect me I didn't want to move a finger. I had a poor history with escalation, after all.
I just wanted to be left alone.
Was that too much to ask?
-x-x-x-
Apparently, the answer was 'yes'.
"Hello? Um, Miss Hebert?"
I glanced up from behind the counter where I had been sitting and leisurely reading a book under the light of one of my own glow-orbs. My mom had been an English professor, and in a literal fantasy world, it was almost a guaranteed duty for me to read about just what kind of batshit crazy stuff fantasy works of a fantasy world could come up with.
I had sensed his approach before he even entered, through the bugs that clung to his clothes. I tried to pay as little attention to monitoring the movements of everyone in the range of my power, both because I didn't want to return to the days of Earth Bet, and because I didn't want to once more become known as the creepy bug girl. Still, when a body was moving directly toward my shop, it was hard to ignore it.
"You again," I grunted, glancing in his direction. "What is it this time?"
White hair. Red eyes. Sheepish grin, and reddened cheeks. Bell Cranel had first come in just two weeks ago, and since then had been in my shop every two to three days to replace one bit of equipment or another that had somehow become damaged. It was a good flow of income for me, but I had no idea how he was managing that feat.
Just how bad was he faring that he needed replacements that often, when most of my other regulars only had to return every two to three weeks or so in the worst case? What kind of scraps was he getting into that my products were being subjected to such damage?
"Sorry, Miss Hebert…" he said, not looking me in the eye. Damned brat was worse than Theo, before I had toughened him up alongside the other Chicago Wards. "I ruined the wrist-guard again…"
I glared at him. He fidgeted, as he placed the bracer of my own design on the counter. Finally, I sighed, fit a bookmark into the page of my book, and put it aside. That kid interrupted my reading sessions every time he came in.
"What's your excuse today?" I leaned over, inspecting the damage. The fingers of my one working hand were not as sensitive as the hairs of my insects, but it was sufficient. The armour was torn by multiple penetrating thrust, one I recognised well from my time as a villain. Most were mere glancing blows, but one had gone through, and left the rest of it vulnerable. "Goblins again?"
"Yeah…" He lowered his head. "I tried keeping to the first three floors like Miss Eina said, but I got surrounded, and then…" He gulped. "I fought them off, but one managed to pierce the armour. I – I'm sorry I always ruin it, Miss Hebert!"
"You're giving me a bad reputation, kid."
"I… I'm sorry!"
The brat looked like he was on the verge of bursting. I hated to play favourites, but it seemed he needed a little one of my custom jobs. Clearly, if he continued using those coming from my regular production line, he'd end up lying six feet under, and that was bad for business.
I ignored Tattletale's knowing smile that I could picture perfectly in my mind if she ever heard of this. Aww, fearsome Warlord Skitter's growing a heart? she would say.
"Wait here," I ordered sternly, then seized the wrist-guard from the table. There was still plenty of raw material there, and I could still get my spiders to recycle and weave them into new goods. "Don't touch anything."
With that, I made my way upstairs, to my secret stash of goods I kept out from the general customer base. A vial of venom extract from various mundane insects and monsters just in case I ever needed it, some bombs that were filled with poisonous powders, flasks filled with caustic fluid extracted from glands of a local beetle variety, a baton, what remained of the nano-thorn knife that Defiant had given me…
– and there. Custom-made wrist-guards, born out of one of my experiments in testing out spiders of the local variety. I had to keep my business going, and so couldn't simply sell these that were powerful enough to resist penetration by bullets – my customers would never return, otherwise.
Still, I had to do my civil duty and hopefully prevent this kid from meeting an early grave. I ordered a bunch of Hercules beetles (the local variety, anyway) to head out of the workshop, dumped Bell's old pair of guards onto them, and bid them to use their tremendous strength for their size and act like the porters that I used them as.
Finally, I made my way downstairs, where my only customer was none-the-wiser as to what had transpired upstairs.
"Here," I said, placing the new pair back down. At least he listened to instructions, and didn't touch anything in the time that I had been gone, having been tracking his movements with the bugs I tagged him with. "2300 Valis. Standard repair and replacement rates."
He winced. I didn't need the bugs on him telling me all about the subtle changes in tension in his body language to know that he was short on cash. Still, I had a business to run, and if he couldn't pay the rates for work that I should frankly charge a higher fee for, then I couldn't give him the goods. Sorrowfully, he emptied his pockets, and placed a handful of Valis on the counter.
Nodding, I accepted it, then slid the new wrist-guards over to him. Hopefully, it would last longer than his previous pair had.
"Thank you," he said, bowing his head. His eyes glanced toward the potion stock, hesitated for a moment, before looking away.
That was the last of his Valis, then. He was about to leave, when I called out to him.
"Which Familia are you from, anyway?" I asked.
"Huh?" He turned around. "Oh! I just joined the Hestia Familia two weeks ago, Miss Hebert."
"Hestia?" I frowned. I wasn't too interested in the affairs of Gods and their little games, but I knew a couple of their names from my reading, and from the inevitable eavesdropping I had with my power. I was no mythology nut, but I knew enough to recognise her as the Greek Goddess of the Hearth. "Don't think I've heard of that Familia."
And two weeks? That would make the first time he came to my store the same day that he entered the Dungeon.
"It's just the Goddess and I right now, Miss Hebert," he said. "But I promised Goddess Hestia that I'll help her make a big Familia to thank her for letting me in!"
I stared at the boy, and I could distinctly feel my brow twitching.
…this was an Adventurer?
If this were Earth Bet, he'd be dead on his first night out. God knows how close I was to that back when I decided it was a smart idea to fight Lung, of all things. As far as I could tell, even with the Falna Bell had obtained from his Familia, all he'd be given at present was a Brute 0, Mover 0 rating. Perhaps a Mover 1, if I was being generous.
Well, it was none of my business. If the boy wanted to head into the Dungeon as he was, who was I to stop him?
Besides, the first few floors weren't that tough. With bullshit potions that this world had, almost any injury he might come across there could be healed, perhaps save for instant death.
"Off to the Dungeon?"
"Yeah…" he replied glumly. "I need to earn back the Valis for these, and start saving so our Familia can grow."
He gestured at the wrist-guards he'd strapped on. Even with the equipment from my store, he had such a mismatched set of what little gear he could buy, that he looked like a sorry mess.
Cursing my bleeding heart, I gestured a thumb over at the shelf. "Take one potion. Don't tell anyone about this, or you'll ruin my business."
His face brightened, and immediately, he bowed at me. "T-thank you!"
Damned brat. If my enemies – or my friends – could see me now, I'd be the laughingstock of all capes.
"I-I really appreciate it, Miss Hebert! I'll pay you back!"
He bowed deeply once more, before running out. Glaring in the empty space there, I continued tracking his movements with my bugs as he made a beeline toward the Dungeon, until he winked out of my range.
Finally, I leaned back into my chair, opening the book to the page where I'd left off. Hopefully, this was enough for him not to get himself killed by a goblin or kobold.
Idly, I took inventory again, even though I had only but a handful of customers since my last inspection. I was running low on food, and sadly, Orario didn't have grocery deliveries. Later that day, I would need to get a supply run done, and that meant stepping outside my safe haven where I was free from the public eye.
Troublesome.
-x-x-x-
Hood up. Head down. Eyes low.
I kept my profile as low as possible, seemingly keeping to my own business, but that could not be further from the truth. As I walked through Main Street to my next destination, everything within six city blocks that at least had some insects, arachnids, crustaceans, or worms was within the scope of my senses.
At least in this part of the city, relatively few people knew who Taylor Hebert was. In the far eastern end where I decided to set up shop, it was only those resident to Daedaelus Street, or those who heard of my relatively affordable goods for newbies that recognised me.
Still, I kept my guard up. Danger lurked at every corner, and though the Gods were supposed to not use their Arcanum while down on the Lower World, I still cultivated a healthy amount of paranoia when out in the open.
Blue Pharmacy, where the Miach Familia operated their business out of, was almost on the opposite side of Orario from myself. Still, their prices were reasonable, and with me operating on the other end of the city there was minimal competition between us. For months now, they had been my primary supplier of potions, and Miach was one of the few people that I ever spoke to in Orario.
My plan was simple: restock on potions, then loop back down through to the market area, and get what food I could carry back. Hopefully, I would be able to stay in my zone of comfort for some time.
"Miss Hebert?"
I glanced up toward who had spoken, even as the dozens of bugs I had on the person where the voice had originated from abruptly tensed up when my power flared, alongside the thousands of others in the immediate vicinity, ready to descend upon him with but a thought. Then that instant passed, and I let them out of my power's grip, returning them to their mundane affairs.
Old habits die hard.
"Miach," I greeted in return, offering a slight nod to one of the few people I associated with these days. Still, I did not let my hood slip. "What a coincidence. I was just on my way over."
Miach was one of the few Gods that sometimes made it difficult to remember he was one. Of course, whether that spoke of his humility or his relative powerlessness compared to his peers was still an open question. I heard the rumours about him – his Familia, once a fairly large one that operated a steady medicinal business, was now reduced to but a single member, after incurring a massive debt for the sake of his sole remaining member.
I could respect that. At the same time, I could see myself, and many others, taking advantage of that weakness.
Walking just beside him was Naaza Erisuis – a Chientrope, one of those races in this world with dog-like features. She hid it under a glove and a long sleeve, but I knew the truth, both from rumours and from what the senses of my bugs fed me – her right arm was a prosthetic. It was well built and functioned seamlessly enough to pass off as low-grade Tinkertech, and while I sorely wanted one for myself, it didn't seem to be worth the trouble.
Besides, if I ever got into a situation where I needed my right arm intact, chances were that if my swarm couldn't deal with whatever threat it was, having an extra limb would hardly be sufficient.
Though we never explicitly spoke of it, the two of us understood where we were coming from. After being wounded and losing her arm in the Dungeon, she stuck with Miach and never ventured back to her previous work of hunting down monsters. As for my part, she believed the few rumours surrounding my background as the sole survivor of a slaughtered Familia, and never broached the subject.
It was a good business relationship for us.
"I don't suppose I could buy a case off you right now?" I pointed my good arm at the stack of potions he was carrying. "It saves me a trip down to your shop."
"Of course!" He smiled – not that I saw, of course. My bugs could feed me the changes in tension transmitted from his facial muscles, all the way down to just below the neckline where they nested against his cloak. "It has been a while, Taylor. How are you doing?"
"Fine, thanks. Standard rate?"
I took a handful of coins out of the pocket of my cloak, counting out the required amount. Then, I handed it to him, and took the case offered by Naaza, offering just the slightest of nods. I opened the case briefly, inspected the goods inside, and satisfied, began to take my leave.
"Wait," Miach said. He held out a thousand Valis coin. "Here. You paid extra."
I frowned. "Twenty potions at five hundred each is ten thousand Valis. I gave the exact amount."
"I know." He smiled faintly. "It can't be easy making a living alone in your shop, though. Please let me at least do this."
Beside him, Naaza stiffened. Still, she was too fiercely loyal to speak out against her God, even if his acts of kindness were making them even more in debt.
"I'm fine, Miach. You should worry about yourself."
"Please, Taylor," he insisted. "If you won't accept it, take it as a discount for my loyal customer, to maintain our current business relations."
Annoying. Well, if he wanted to freely let himself be taken advantaged of like that, who was I to argue?
Silently, I accepted the offered coin, ignoring the widening of the smile on his face. I nodded once more, ready to depart, when suddenly one of the insects flying around from a street to the southeast was blown aside by a rush of air. Something was approaching, and fast.
Instincts took over. Not everyone had an insect tagged to them all the time, and occasionally there were a few that I couldn't keep track of with my power. This, unfortunately, was one of those situations.
Before I even turned around to see just what was heading in a blind charge straight from the Dungeon toward this direction, I was already in motion. In that instant, I reacted as I had been trained to.
Before I knew it, I had backhanded the assailant with my free hand, swept my foot out to trip him, and then threw him down and pinned him with the shaft of my arm. The swarm lying everywhere around me tensed, poised to strike, just waiting for me to give the signal to sting, pelt, constrict with webs, or to otherwise kill the enemy in dozens of different ways.
"Gurgghh – gwa?" The mass of bloodied flesh struggled under the weight of my body.
"Taylor, stop!"
Off to the side, I felt someone grab at my cloak. Unfortunately for me, my little attempt at disguise had worked too well, and they had chosen to tug at where my missing arm would otherwise have been. The cloak fell off from that empty sleeve, leaving my stump that had been mangled at the elbow by Sveta and cauterised by Lung for all eyes to see.
I heard a loud gasp, and that was enough for me to regain control over myself. I shifted, removing my arm from where I had been beginning to cut off the person's windpipe beneath me. Insects relaxed.
All around me, I could hear the hushed mutters, and both see and feel the pointed fingers.
Damn it all. I had been staying free from trouble for so long, too.
"Bell?" Miach spoke, astonished, and I stiffened. "Bell – what happened to you?"
And indeed, though he was utterly soaked in blood, and his distinctive white hair was turned completely red, the boy gasping and wheezing as he recovered from my sudden counterattack at a perceived threat was undoubtedly Bell Cranel.
Damn it. I knew that boy was going to be trouble.
I knew that the right thing to do was to apologise. Perhaps offer compensation.
Of course, what I instead did was look at the wrist-guard he had purchased just earlier that day.
Ah, good. He hadn't broken it yet.
"Miach, sir?" Bell wheezed, straightening up. "And – M- miss Hebert?"
"Sorry," I muttered, throwing my cloak back over the exposed stump. I glared at the onlookers, and they quickly pretended to at least carry on with their business, rather than gossip about the crazy person who had just assaulted someone out of the blue. "Didn't mean to do that."
"N-no! It's my fault! I shouldn't have run into you!" Bell hurriedly denied. "U-um, are you okay?"
"Your arm…"
I glanced at Naaza. I had no idea what sort of conclusions she was drawing in her head. Missing arm buddies, perhaps? Whatever it was, I wanted nothing to do with it. "It's nothing," I insisted. "Bell, what the hell have you been up to in the Dungeon?"
"Oh! There was a Minotaur on the fifth floor –"
"You were attacked a Minotaur?" Miach cut in, concerned, already inspecting the boy. "How… are you alright, Bell?"
Again, I frowned. I was no Adventurer, but with plenty of time on my hands, I took to reading. With Adventuring and the Dungeon being one of the foremost discussed topics in Orario, it wasn't hard to come across information surrounding the Dungeon.
Minotaurs were typically resident to the fifteenth to seventeenth floors. Most of the time, Level Two Adventurers found a tough match going up against them.
How had a Minotaur gone up to the fifth floor, and how was Bell even alive?
Immediately, I had a sense of déjà vu, of a cape deciding to plan a solo stake out at night, and running into the damned Dragon of Kyushu himself on her first night out. Seemed like Bell had the same luck I had.
"I'm fine! Someone saved me!" Bell quickly assured Miach. "Oh… this blood isn't mine, either. A-and, Miss Hebert –"
"Hmm?"
"The wrist-guard you gave me – it's really strong!" He raised his hand up. Now that I was giving more a cursory glance, I could indeed see an indentation left there, but whatever force it was hadn't penetrated the armour. "The Minotaur tried to attack me with its horns, but it blocked the attack and let me run away!"
Damn it. No armourer operating outside of a Familia should have been able to create anything that could stop a direct strike from a monster a few floors deep, never mind a Minotaur capable of killing Level Two Adventurers if they grew careless. Bell's latest outburst, while it would undeniably start bringing in new business, would also draw attention that I wanted to avoid.
"S-so, thank you!" Bell continued on, after I remained silent. "And I'm so sorry for startling you!"
"Where are you heading to, Bell?" Miach asked.
"I'm going to find Miss Eina over at the Guild! There's something I need to ask her."
He looked ready to dash off once more, completely drenched in blood, but I stopped him.
"Wait," I called out. Then, I took hold of the hand where the wrist-guard had deflected the Minotaur's attack, and pinched hard.
Immediately, he winced.
"Adrenaline's a bitch," I said, fishing for one of the new potions I had just bought. "The armour might have stopped the Minotaur from goring you on its horns, but there's no stopping the blunt trauma. Here."
"B-but –"
"Miach gave me two extras. If you want to argue, do it with Miach."
Finally, he accepted the bottle, gasping once its effects took hold. I knew that feeling well.
"U-um, Miss Hebert, were you an Adventurer before?"
I glared at him, and he flinched. "R-right! I'll be off now! Sorry again!"
Immediately, he took off, going at a far more reasonable pace off to the northwest road toward the Pantheon, where the Guild headquarters was located.
"Miss Hebert," Miach called out, once Bell was gone. "About your arm…"
I hated that. I hated those concerned eyes. I hated how the crowd thought themselves to be subtle as they hid out of my immediate view, but were still plainly visible to all my bugs plastered to their clothing.
"I said it's nothing." I closed the case of potions, then took hold of the handle. "I've got to go now. I'll see you some time in the next week or so for more supplies."
I turned to leave. By now, Bell and the new bug I tagged him with had left the range of my power. Just before I departed, though, Miach addressed me once more.
"Taylor," he said. "If you ever need any help… Naaza and I are here. You know that, right?"
Hah. Were they believing the rumours as well? By now, some of the onlookers weren't even bothering to hide their gossip. Fair enough, no normal person should have been able to catch even a rookie Level One Adventurer off guard, what with the power granted by their Falna and all.
"Sure," I said offhandedly. "See you around."
And with that, I headed back toward my home. No sense staying around or sweeping over to the market if these rumours were just going to follow me.
Still, though, it was frightening to know just how much my instincts had stayed with me. If Miach hadn't been there, there was a high chance that I could have just commanded the swarm to descend upon Bell, not knowing who he was.
Back there, in that moment, it hadn't been Bell that I saw pinned beneath me. It had been Lung, it had been Mannequin, and Jack Slash, and Coil, and Valefor, and a hundred different capes that I had fought against and come out on top.
It had been too easy.
My days as a cape – both Hero and Villain – were over. I just wanted to be Taylor Hebert, reclusive shop owner who ran an Adventurer's supplies shop by day.
Unfortunately for me, Bell Cranel was going to be a bigger pain in the ass than I'd imagined.