Everything was going wrong.

  Or rather, one thing was going wrong. One very big thing.

  Rotte’s confident grin fell as half a dozen undead turned to face him, while the fire magic he was channeling in his hand began to die down after the single attack.

  He only stepped out because of Artyom’s aura. It was intended to goad out the necromancer responsible for the undead attack by boosting the confidence of every combatant to the point of arrogance, and Artyom figured none of the children nearby would consider themselves fighters for it to affect them.

  He forgot about one.

  “Rotte, get out of there!” shouted Artyom.

  But something broke in the boy and he froze in place and fell to his knees. His eyes were gripped in terror, lost both in the past and a thousand yards away, unable to break back into the present.

  Just then, Artyom heard another scream, this one coming from the orphanage itself. On the second floor, Sister Elery peeked her head through a window and took in the scene, wracked with sudden horror. “Please hero, save him!”

  Artyom flipped through several options in his mind. He could launch another pulse of fear to get the kid to flee, but with how he’d fallen down, there might not be enough time for him to flee on his own.

  What about Tommy, who was currently fighting his way to the kid? Would the hero be able to hold them off for long enough so Rotte could flee? No, aura was directional and Artyom wouldn’t be able to launch it without hitting both of them with the same effect. There wasn’t enough time to reinforce Tommy with confidence while sending fear both of their ways either.

  The only option was getting to Rotte fast enough.

  Artyom judged the distances involved with how far each of them was, and after a moment of mental math, made his decision.

  “Sonic Waverider,” said Artyom to himself as he closed his eyes and focused his magic into Tommy. But casting such a complicated spell that took all his attention away from the battle, when surrounded by enemies on all sides with their leader hiding close by, was tantamount to suicide. The only time Artyom had ever deemed it a worthwhile risk was when the life of a kid from Earth was on the line. And right now…

  Artyom didn’t think, he just cast.

  Tommy didn’t think either, he just ran.

  The zombies in the way of the hero fell quickly with precise sword strikes to the neck, the spell boosting the speed of Tommy’s brain alongside his legs, so much so that he felt like he had half a minute to line up each swing.

  The power was exhilarating, but Tommy didn’t smile. His entire being was focused on getting to Rotte fast enough.

  Fifty feet away, thirty, ten…

  Twenty enemies in the way, fifteen, twelve-

  But the undead were already on him. Rotte was a dead man.

  “No!” everyone shouted. Artyom and Neitra threw a Gravity Lance and knife respectively, but at that distance only managed to nick two of the undead. It wasn’t enough. Nothing they did was enough to stop them.

  And yet… they stopped.

  Mere inches away from turning Rotte into a corpse like them, maws open and jagged teeth ready, they froze in place.

  Nobody dared to question the sudden blessing and Tommy cleared the remaining distance between them and slashed through the undead with a single cleave.

  “Run!” shouted the hero as he forced Rotte back onto his feet and pushed him back towards the building he’d come out of. “Get inside and lock yourself in until we’re done.”

  “Y-you saved me,” the boy mumbled. It wasn’t a smile of gratitude on his face, but a look of disbelief.

  “Go!” shouted Artyom from his spot, which finally snapped Rotte out of his fugue. He then turned around and did as instructed.

  With the battlefield now clear of civilians, it didn’t take long to dispatch the remaining undead. All that was left of them was a scattered pile of bodies turned to corpses once more.

  After carefully inspecting them to make sure they wouldn’t rise once more, Artyom shouted out, “It’s clear! You’re all safe now!”

  Two doors opened at once; Rotte’s as he came stumbling out of his impromptu shelter and Sister Elery who ran right towards the boy.

  “Oh, it’s a miracle! Thank the goddess!” the priestess shouted as she pulled the boy into a bear hug.

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  He looked uncomfortable with how tight it was, but didn’t protest. There wasn’t any more fight in his eyes.

  “You actually saved me,” he said as he turned his head to face Tommy.

  “I mean, that’s what I’m supposed to do, I help people.” the hero replied. His gaze began to fall to the ground. “I know I haven’t been living up to it much because I was doing what I thought would help the most people…” He steeled his eyes and looked back at Rotte. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do both.”

  “Thank you, hero,” said Sister Elery, looking up at Tommy with a smile and tear-filled eyes. “This means so much to me, that you’re helping these kids directly.”

  “Yeah, I-”

  “Tommy!” came a shout from the grounds’ entrance.

  Artyom winced as he heard the three women it came from as they ran up to the group.

  “Are you alright? Where’s Lensa?” asked Xerica, pushing everyone else away with her presence alone and looking over the hero carefully for any nicks or bruises. “Did Artyom send her away and drag you into danger?”

  “I did no such-”

  The three women glared at him with a promise of death which he met with sheer defiance.

  Daisy pointed a finger at him and growled, “If either of you did anything to hurt Tommy, we’ll-”

  “Hey, don’t worry!” shouted the hero. “We handled it just fine, just as easily as the last attack. Lensa had faith we could handle it ourselves.”

  The ladies were broken out of their anger and looked at him with surprise.

  “Lensa said that?”

  “Yeah, she’s at the church keeping her father safe,” said Tommy. “Now that I mention it, the undead horde was split up last time, so she was probably looking out for that happening again.”

  A terrible pressure filled the air for a split second that everyone could feel, even the often oblivious hero, that forced them all into still silence. Even Sister Elery and Rotte behind them didn’t dare speak or move.

  Eventually, Tommy was able to brush it off and was the first to speak. “So uh, how come you’re all back so soon?”

  “We all just got a strange feeling and came back here,” said Ecole. “I mean, we were just about finished up anyway.”

  Artyom raised a single eyebrow at the statement. “Strange feeling?” They must’ve had some kind of tracking on Tommy, maybe through his sword or armor so they would always know when it was in use. It made sense, since their job was supposedly to keep him safe, but Artyom wondered how much harder it would make keeping them separated.

  He was broken out of his thoughts by a sniffle behind him that caught everyone’s attention.

  “I-I’m an idiot,” said Rotte as his eyes began to mist. “I shouldn’t have run out like that, but I was feeling so confident, and for what? I took out only a single one before I was almost killed!”

  “There there, it’s alright,” said Sister Elery as she hugged him tighter. “I wanted to run out and help too, but I know that my duty is to you and the other children. If anything, I’m the fool for not making sure you were safe first.”

  Artyom smiled at the two, but it soon turned hollow when he realized this was actually all his fault. He didn’t expect Rotte to have such a fighting spirit, but from how he confronted Tommy and the rest of the party earlier that day, it should have been obvious.

  But that same desperate fighting spirit fed Artyom’s suspicion. If he had something like that in him, then was that actual sadness in his eyes, or crocodile tears? With how much of an unknown [Emissary of Dharma] was, he could have been the one controlling the undead and simply faked almost dying to them.

  It was honestly a far-fetched theory he wanted to beat himself up for even thinking of, but it did explain one thing; how the undead all strangely stopped before they could attack him. A brief moment to give Tommy enough time to save the day of a child and realize how much better of a hero he could be if he did that more often.

  Newfound guilt and empathy raged against years of engrained suspicion, the fresh ideals attempting to push back a worn and bitter incumbent.

  But as that war raged on within Artyom’s heart, his mind raced onwards. And he came up with an idea that placated them both.

  Attyom walked over to Rotte and kneeled before him. “If you think you’re weak, let me teach you the fundamentals of magic.”

  “Huh?” the boy asked, looking up at him.

  “Huh?” asked the other party members.

  “Huh?!” Sister Elery angrily asked. “So he can run into even more danger? What are you thinking?!”

  “I’ve seen that look in his face before,” replied Artyom, looking over to the boy. “You feel like the world has thrown you into a rut that seems impossible to get out of. A rut that needs to be desperately escaped no matter what because it stands for everything you’re against, but you don’t have the power to do anything. That the weight of the world is about to crush you, and you need to do something- anything- about it.”

  Rotte looked up at him with wide eyes and slowly nodded.

  Even Sister Elery looked at Artyom shocked with a hand to her heart.

  “He’ll end up doing something stupid if he’s left on his own, so I want to focus that desperation into something safe and constructive. Knowledge of the fundamentals, simple exercises, can offer him ways to get stronger and more confident without opening himself up to danger.”

  Sister Elergy looked into Rotte’s eyes more deeply and began to understand the sort of pain within. “I-I understand. I understand completely. Artyom, you have my permission to teach Rotte the basics of magic.”

  “Will tomorrow morning be fine? A few hours should be enough to get him started.”

  “Of course, we’ll see you then,” said Sister Elery with a nod.

  “Thank you, Artyom,” said Rotte, mimicking her.

  “Hey, no problem,” said Artyom with a smile. It felt shallow to him, but by the look in the others’ eyes, it must have been sincere enough to convince them.

  After all, while what he said was entirely true and from the heart, it would give him the chance to see whether or not Rotte was truly capable of controlling all of those undead. And get him a step closer to finding more about the rune magic these undead were associated with.

  To the other ladies’ credit, they didn’t interrupt the conversation with an insipid insult. Even when it was done, they spoke calmly.

  “Now that we’re done here, let’s get some dinner. Tommy, Neitra, and Artyom, find us a place to eat. In the meantime, the rest of us are going to have a nice little chat with Lensa.”

  Calmly, but hiding a biting rage underneath.

  The party said their goodbyes to the orphans and Sister Elery before leaving. As the two groups separated soon after, Artyom snuck away to trail the three women. He wanted to listen in on their little chat.