Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins-Chapter 91: The Road Home

I was holding Lana, her small head resting against my chest, her breathing a soft, steady rhythm that was a stark contrast to the frantic beating of my own heart. She was sleeping, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated peace, the horrors of the goblin cave a distant, fading nightmare. I asked her maid to lead the way to her house, my own voice a low, tired murmur in the quiet, post-festival streets.

I followed, my own footsteps heavy with a weariness that went beyond simple physical exhaustion. The village, once a vibrant, chaotic symphony of light and life, was now settling into a quiet, peaceful slumber. The last of the festival-goers had returned to their homes, their laughter a faint, distant echo on the cool night air.

We arrived at a huge mansion, its dark, imposing form a stark contrast to the small, rustic cottages that surrounded it. It was dark already, but as we approached, the massive, iron-wrought gates swung open, and two figures, their faces a mixture of anxiety and a dawning, incredulous relief, rushed out to meet us.

Lana’s father and mother.

They moved with a speed that was almost desperate, their eyes first on the small, sleeping girl in my arms, then on me, and then on the maid, who was struggling under the weight of the dozen or so prizes we had won.

The silence was broken by Lana’s mother, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "It seems," she said, a small, watery smile on her face, "that she really enjoyed herself."

Her father, Johen, let out a long, slow breath, the tension seeming to drain from his body. "It looks like it," he said, his own voice thick with a barely suppressed emotion. He looked at the mountain of gifts in the maid’s arms, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "And with all those gifts... are you planning to spoil my daughter, or take her away from me?" he asked, his tone a light, sarcastic note that did not quite hide the profound gratitude beneath.

We laughed, a shared, comfortable sound in the quiet night.

"I will be leaving early tomorrow morning," I said, my own voice a low, regretful murmur as I gently transferred the sleeping Lana into her mother’s arms. "We need to report back to the Academy, to tell them what has happened here."

Her mother’s smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Won’t you tell Lana?" she asked, her voice a soft, pleading thing. "She will feel really bad if you go without telling her."

I looked down at the small, sleeping girl, at her peaceful, innocent face, and a strange, unfamiliar ache spread through my chest. "She is stubborn," I said, my voice a quiet whisper, "but she is also very intelligent. She may hate me for a little while, but she will soon realize why I did it." I looked up, my gaze meeting theirs. "It would be difficult for her, for all of us, if I were to bid her a formal farewell. This... this feels right."

They didn’t argue. They simply nodded, a silent, unwilling understanding in their eyes.

I turned to leave, but Johen’s voice stopped me. "Lord Ashen," he said, his voice a low, serious murmur. "My offer still stands. Anything you ask for, it is yours."

I looked back at him, at the small, perfect family that had been reunited because of a monster like me, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of something that might have been peace. "I have already received my reward," I said, my voice a quiet whisper, before I turned and walked away, my own shadows a silent, comforting presence at my heels.

The journey back to the Academy was a tense, quiet affair. The mood in the carriage was a stark contrast to the boisterous, chaotic energy of our journey to the village. We were all tired, our bodies and our spirits battered and bruised by the horrors we had witnessed.

We had been traveling for hours, the rhythmic clatter of the winged beasts’ hooves on the hard, packed earth a hypnotic, lulling sound. The initial, awkward silence had given way to a low, murmuring conversation, the members of my team recounting their own, far less eventful, experiences in the northeast quadrant of the forest.

And then, it happened.

The world exploded in a shower of dirt and splintered wood. The carriage, which had been moving at a steady, comfortable pace, was thrown into the air, its powerful, enchanted wheels shattering on impact. We were thrown from our seats, our bodies a chaotic jumble of flailing limbs and surprised cries.

I landed hard, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs, my vision swimming with black spots. I scrambled to my feet, my own shadow blade materializing in my hand, my senses on high alert.

And then I saw them.

They emerged from the trees that lined the road, their movements a silent, deadly dance. They were beasts, yes, but not like any I had ever seen before. There was a massive, hulking boar, its hide as thick and gnarled as ancient iron, its tusks long and sharp as daggers. And flanking it, a pack of sleek, black panthers, their eyes glowing with an unnatural, malevolent red light. But it wasn’t their size or their ferocity that sent a chill down my spine. It was the strange, glowing runes that were carved into their flesh, the way they moved with a coordinated, tactical precision that was utterly alien to the wild, chaotic nature of magical beasts.

They were controlled.

"Form up!" Layla shouted, her own voice sharp and commanding as she drew her twin blades, her face a mask of grim determination.

We moved as one, our earlier exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new, deadly threat. Eren and I took the flanks, our own blades a blur of motion. Liora and Aurelia formed the center, their magic a swirling vortex of light and lightning. And Nyx and Cecilia, their earlier animosity forgotten, took to the rear, their own powerful, ranged attacks a deadly, supporting fire.

But it was not enough.

The beasts were too strong, too fast, too... intelligent. The armored boar was a living battering ram, its charges a relentless, unstoppable force that shattered our defensive formations. And the panthers... the panthers were a blur of black fur and red eyes, their attacks a silent, deadly dance of tooth and claw. They moved with a pack mentality, their attacks coordinated, their movements a perfect, deadly symphony of destruction.

Eren, in a fit of reckless, arrogant bravery, charged the boar head-on, his own blade a brilliant, holy light. But the beast simply lowered its head, its massive, iron-like tusks deflecting his attack with an almost casual ease. It then swung its head, a brutal, powerful movement that sent Eren flying through the air, his body crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening crunch.

Aurelia, her face a mask of furious determination, unleashed a powerful, wide-arc lightning spell, a brilliant, crackling wave of energy that slammed into the pack of panthers, sending several of them scattering. But the others, their movements a blur of impossible speed, simply dodged, their forms weaving through the bolts of lightning as if they were nothing more than a gentle summer rain.

Liora, her own face pale with a mixture of fear and a dawning, horrified understanding, tried to erect a defensive shield of pure, holy light. But the boar, its eyes glowing with a malevolent, intelligent light, simply charged, its massive, iron-like tusks shattering her shield and sending her stumbling backward, her own arm hanging at an unnatural angle.

We were losing. Badly. Our magic, our skills, our years of relentless training—it was all for naught against these strange, controlled beasts. We were on the verge of defeat, our own bodies a canvas of fresh, bleeding wounds, our mana reserves dwindling to a pathetic, useless dregs.

The boar, its victory all but assured, turned its attention to Layla, who stood her ground, her own face a mask of pale, grim defiance. It lowered its head, its massive, iron-like tusks aimed for her heart, and charged.