Demi had played more than enough RPGs in her life to realize what an insanely powerful combination Archmage and Great Sage were together. It was as if this man somehow had two different ultimate classes at the same time, the kind of classes that it took a whole game’s worth of experience to unlock, all of the way at the terminal end of a complicated class trees.
Here, Archmage and Great Sage were both fifth classes, the pinnacle of what mere mortals could attain. So rare was it for any individual to advance to these classes that they had a near-legendary status. Any person who made it to this level was a living national treasure, respected, honored, unequaled by any but their rare peers. They inevitably made their mark on the history of this world and were all so famous that they were sure to have their own epithets and a wild catalog of myths and stories about them.
Like “the Shadowstep Alchemist,” Demi reflected.
But still, that’s so crazy. People who make fourth class are already so extraordinary that even kings and queens know them by name and treat them with respect, she thought, studying the man who was now sleeping in her bed. Even those guys are super famous and get catchy nicknames and make the history books. There are never more than a handful anywhere: celebrated generals, imperial sorcerers, genius strategists, people like that.
But the fact that the Shadowstep Alchemist had not only one but two fifth classes had not been in any history book she had read, not even the most speculative.
Even if he’s a half-elf, even if he’s 362 years old, even then, having two fifth classes is insane. That’s like, the stuff of a demigod, she thought, her eyes swirling like her cauldron when she got a little too enthusiastic during synthesis.
But then she got a little shock as she thought about it.
Plus this man is “the Grandmaster of Fluid Alchemy,” but he doesn’t even have any kind of “alchemist” actually listed among his tags! Demi fumed. What is with that? Is he so ridiculously good at everything that alchemy doesn’t even make the short list? And he’s got so many aliases that he’s either a secret agent or a wanted fugitive!
It’s all absolutely ridiculous, she decided, quite forgetting that she herself was a goddess and therefore also an absurd violation of the rules of both game balance and ordinary reality.
But in the end, even considering everything else, it was the penultimate tag that was the real knock out.
(She was just going to politely ignore the final tag. It certainly had nothing to do with her and she most definitely had not caused it to appear herself.)
Hero.
Here was an honest-to-goodness isekai fantasy-world Hero, right in front of her.
That’s, you know, that’s really an EX-CALIBUR!!! level wise up, isn’t it? she thought, leaning her cheek against her hand. This is the guy who saves the world from ultimate peril, even if he has to fly to the moon, or travel through time, or go to a parallel world, or become a robot. The Hero. A real singularity.
And he was. Although he was called “the Hero-King,” Conri had not been a hero, or at least, not the Hero. That tag had a very specific meaning.
Although admittedly, the man asleep in her bed was somewhat different from what she imagined when she imagined a standard fantasy-world Hero. For one thing, he was too old. The Heroes in the games she had played and the books that she had read were generally teenagers, around sixteen, usually with earnest, guileless, fiery personalities and spiky hair, the sort of young men who would have done well as the protagonist of a shonen manga. They were almost all swordsmen with bright, cheerful smiles. It was also unusual for them to be any percentage elven.
Even when middle-aged salarymen were transported to fantasy worlds to become Heroes, they almost always became bright-eyed young men (although occasionally they did become very pretty girls). That was just the way things usually worked.
Even if one totally ignored this gentleman’s “aura of being an old man,” and focused only on his timeless elven features, he was still older than the standard fantasy-world protagonist.
Not only was he older than the standard Hero, but his temperament was also different. Demi had already gotten the sense that he had a taciturn and guarded personality, even from their brief interactions. In addition to that, his sharp eyes and features made him look closer to a handsome antagonist than a Hero.
Not that she was complaining. Heroes were not usually her type in games. She generally naturally drifted toward assassins, mages, necromancers, and of course alchemists, none of whom were ordinarily cast in the role of Hero, even in stories and games that centered around them specifically.
Notwithstanding her previous feelings, Demi had instantly become much more interested in Heroes than she had been before. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, after all.
And he had secrets to keep, apparently.
“Don’t reveal his true identity!”
Thanks for the tag, Hollyhope, Demi prayed.
If the warning not to reveal his identity hadn’t been there, Demi would have likely told the next person she saw for no other reason than the fact that it was so astonishing. She was already such a fan of the Shadowstep Alchemist that she desperately wanted to tell someone all about it. But she was sure that there had to be a reason behind that tag. She would respect it.
“Aelfric,” Demi said very quietly. “Aelfric Pwyll Farrant.”
It fit. It felt much better than “Grey Thornwood.” It felt more real.
While Demi was contemplating the revelations concerning the man laid up in her bed, Glimmer arrived back at the house with Elder Ashbark, Duncan, and Finella. Demi went downstairs to meet them and explain the situation and was surprised to find that Dollop had come back with them.
“Pii pi pi pii?!!!” the slime squeaked in a combination of relief and alarm as they collided with her legs as she came down the stairs.
“Sorry goddess,” Finella apologized, kneeling to pet Dollop comfortingly. “I think they just got really afraid when they overheard what we were talking about. We had to bring them back with us.”
Dollop’s trembling, Demi realized, empathizing with her little friend. I think Dollop might have thought that I was the one who was hurt and needed help. She knelt to reassure the slime herself. They were still white, but seemed to be gradually calming down to a green color now that she and Finella were both patting them.
But Dollop’s fearful reaction pushed another idea to the forefront of her mind.
She turned to Duncan.
“Can you organize a sweep of the nearby area?” she asked. “The man I found was hurt very badly. I don’t think—” She paused. “It doesn’t feel as if the barrier has come down, but for everyone’s safety, I think it’s best to make sure that whatever did this to him isn’t lurking around somewhere close by.”
She described the general location where she had first come upon Aelfric, and Duncan nodded, a grim and determined look on his face. He departed once he secured a promise from Finella that she would stay inside the house with Demi and Elder Ashbark until he returned.
Elder Ashbark was relieved that the man she had rescued was now stable.
“Best let Finella look to be sure,” he suggested.
Demi blanched.
“Oh, oh, I don’t think it’s something that a little girl should have to see,” Demi worried, clasping her hands in front of herself. She appreciated any help and reassurance, but she didn’t want to force Finella to look at something so distressing.
Aelfric was in much better condition now than he had been when he had arrived, but his clothes were still ragged, and in places entirely cut away. She had bandaged all of the deep wounds, but he was still covered with shallow abrasions and marks.
But Elder Ashbark shook his head.
“You are kind,” he said gently, “but Finella has seen many things already, and will likely see many more. Let her help you.”
Demi bit her lip, but the normally energetic girl simply nodded and took her hand.
“It’s all right, goddess,” she gently encouraged her. “Let’s go check on him.”
Demi squeezed her hand and nodded.
“All right,” she said. “If you’re sure.”
She was sure.
Dollop went with them, still unwilling to leave Demi’s side, hugging close to her leg whenever she was stationary for more than a moment.
Upstairs in the bedroom, Finella let go of Demi’s hand and drew some runes in the air to cast a spell. In the end, she turned back to Demi and nodded.
“I’m not exactly sure what you did,” she admitted. “But I think it worked. He’s safe for now. He just needs to be cared for until he recovers, I think. You did a good job.”
Demi let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
“Thank you,” she said to Finella sincerely, then knelt to hug the little girl.
Finella patted Demi on the back and they both went down to relay the information to Elder Ashbark.
Duncan reported on his findings the next day, having conducted a thorough sweep of the area surrounding the farmhouse, both inside and outside of the barrier. He had located the spot where Demi had recovered Aelfric, but nothing had seemed amiss there.
According to him, there was no sign of anything that might have been able to maul Aelfric in the way that he had been mauled.
(Which was a great relief, honestly.)
Exactly what had put Aelfric in such a harrowing condition was destined to remain a mystery, at least for the time being.