Episode 1 - The Gray Human
"No abilities? Really? Like, truly none at all?"
My head was spinning. My fatigue-soaked brain couldn't keep up with the conversation.
"Ah, well, you see..."
"Miss Camilla Lowell, please be honest. Do you really have no abilities?"
"I think that's the case, but..."
No, fuck. If you don't have them, you don't. If you do, you do. What the hell is "I think" supposed to mean?
I was starting to get pissed. If this woman weren't the Hero and was just a soldier, I'd have decked her by now. Hell, even now, I wanted to grab those fumbling lips and yank them.
Camilla Lowell twisted her crimson ponytail, eyes downcast.
"T-truth is..."
She glanced back and forth between her teacup and me, then bowed her head, her voice shrinking to a whisper.
"I... can't remember..."
What the fuck is this bullshit?
A mental disorder medically termed Amnesia. Commonly called memory loss or forgetfulness.
Typical symptoms include temporary or long-term memory loss.
Commonly strikes when bullshitting parents, or mid-conversation with friends or teachers.
Among socially prominent figures, outbreaks often occur in parliamentary hearings or prosecutorial interrogation rooms.
Camilla Lowell's case was similar. She explained to me that she had no memory of the palace quest. To be precise, she vaguely remembered the start and end, but claimed the middle—the part where she actually did the quest—was blank.
Of course, Camilla Lowell wasn't lying. She genuinely couldn't remember.
"This is a real mindfuck."
"I'm sorry..."
"What do you have to be sorry for? You might've bumped your head somewhere. I've seen plenty of guys like that on the front lines."
"Oh..."
Camilla Lowell fidgeted with her fingers, head still bowed. She really was such a total loner. God, what is this? She looks straight out of some internet loser-protagonist manga. Even the single ponytail was spot-on.
Anyway, that wasn't the point right now. Camilla Lowell was the Hero whose job it was to keep me alive, and if she'd damaged her head, that was a big problem. She looked fine now, but was that really okay?
"Hmm. Have you had a medical checkup? It looks like you took a serious hit."
"Cardinal Raoul checked me."
"Cardinal Raoul? You mean the Church's cardinal?"
"Do you know him?"
"Miss Camilla Lowell, how do you know him?"
"Ah, he delivered a letter to me."
A letter? Was Cardinal Raoul the one who passed on the cardinal's letter?
Raoul Cardinal was a friendly named NPC from Heroes of the Dark World. In one word: a true man of faith. Loaded with divine power, squeaky-clean personal life, no government ties or bastards—decent guy all around. A bit of a zealot, sure, but fanaticism was par for the course for a real believer in this dark age. Minus that, he had no real issues.
And most importantly, he was the backer of the saintess candidate priest Lucia.
But why the hell was Raoul Cardinal here? Shouldn't he be propping up Lucia as a saintess candidate and rallying the bishops by now?
"Of course I know him. He's famous. But why is he at the palace?"
"I've been with him since we met at the palace. He's stayed here the whole time."
I see.
"Do you know when Cardinal Raoul is heading back?"
"Um, he said he'd go to the Church with me on the day I'm announced as the Hero."
That's weird. In the game, Raoul Cardinal always showed up at the Church with his priest companion. Camilla Lowell had finished the palace quest, so the Hero summoning should be officially announced soon. Right after my promotion to major, she and I were supposed to head to the Church to recruit Lucia.
But the Raoul Cardinal who needed to make Lucia a saintess candidate was at the palace?
...This feels bad. Something's off.
* In Heroes of the Dark World, the Church's saints are elected through a sort of public vote. Once a zealot backed by a cardinal registers as a candidate, bishops gather at HQ for verification hearings. They vote to elevate or not. Male candidates become saints, females saintesses.
Sounds democratic on paper, but this is a dark fantasy apocalypse world. Corruption rivals any dictatorship: baseless smears and black propaganda during verification, then bribery, ghost votes, ballot stuffing, voice votes, even foreign interference.
No matter how chaotic the world or how oracle-verified the candidate as the Hero's companion, they can't escape that thorny path. Why? The current saintess hailed from the continent's strongest power, the Kien Empire.
No two suns under heaven—and since the Church's founding, never two saintesses at once. The incumbent didn't want to be the first precedent, so she pulled every dirty trick to bury Lucia.
Lucia weathered the barrage of slander and fled to join the Hero's journey without even a vote. Basically tail-between-legs.
Then the predictable shitshow: the saintess, fearing Lucia's return as the Hero's companion, sends assassins, bombs, poisoned food—you name it. Player can foil them all if vigilant, but slip once and Lucia dies.
The priest-alchemist time-bomb duo removal strat exploits these events to ditch both characters. Ruthless, but effective—cut them out, and mid-to-late game assassinations drop off.
Point is, saintess candidate Lucia's life sucks. She endured thanks to Raoul Cardinal and a few bishops. Dialogue often notes she'd have cracked without them.
So Raoul Cardinal being at the palace instead of babysitting Lucia at the Church meant she was tanking all this alone.*
"...This is more serious than I thought."
"Is it...?"
Colonel Clevins Hendrick set down his paper cup, slowly flipping through the documents as he spoke.
"Everyone knows the Church is corrupt, but I didn't expect them to hound one woman this hard."
"What exactly are they saying?"
"Typical conspiracy shit. Mostly hammering her orphan background."
The colonel laid the documents on the desk, flipping through them one by one to explain. Lowbrow crap that soured my face just reading it.
"...Whore's fine, whatever. But witch's spawn? The oracle-chosen Hero's companion is a witch's kid?"
"You're more naive than I thought. Hero's companion my ass—conspiracies need evidence?"
"Ah."
"Smart guy like you, quick on the uptake, still spouts nonsense sometimes."
Every smear, conspiracy, and black propaganda hit like a migraine.
...These fuckers are men of God? Now I get why the world's fucked.
"Huh, interesting."
Colonel Clevins, scrutinizing the docs, grabbed a fountain pen and started underlining. He connected lines into a big web.
"Know what Military Intelligence does, Frederic?"
The out-of-left-field question stalled me, but the crap I'd memorized getting beaten by seniors spilled out.
"Espionage collection and reporting, security and counterintelligence, right?"
"Domestic and foreign ops too. Overseas ops include election meddling."
Colonel Clevins pulled a file from the cabinet and opened it.
"Look closely. What's common between these two docs?"
Staring hard, I spotted it.
"The font's identical."
"Good eye. Every printer has a unique font—you know that. So, same printer, right?"
"That's a stretch..."
"Basics, Frederic. Suspect everything, dig relentlessly. Even a font can be a clue."
Colonel Clevins grinned like he'd struck gold, closing the file. Cover read: Kien Empire Imperial Guard Overseas Ops Cases.
Come to think of it, this guy had outed triple-digit Imperial spies. And in-game, the current saintess was Imperial nobility who hated a new saintess stealing her spot.
No, fuck—chills. How'd Clevins spot this?
"Sudden interest in saintess candidates, and you bring solid intel. Retirement gift for the bureau?"
"...How'd you know?"
"Gut."
He guessed this?
"Stick around this game long enough, you get the instinct. Shit feels off on trivial stuff, dig and something pops."
"...Wild. So you think the Empire's intel is targeting the saintess candidate?"
"Circumstantial, yeah. Current saintess Veronica is from an Imperial baron's line. Empire worries she'll lose Church sway, so they pull this. Speculation, of course."
Plausible. Game didn't detail Veronica much, but words are from people, and Clevins Hendrick was the kingdom's top intel man—his guess rang true.
But the key wasn't Imperial backing Veronica—it was Lucia weathering this solo.
"Haa..."
The story was derailing from the game. No clue where it went wrong. When I got sucked in? Hero's arrival? Me becoming a soldier? Joining intel?
Worried my actions caused this. What now? Hero okay? Lucia hold out alone? How far off-track? Can I survive?
Brain fogged like mist. No future certainty, anxiety crashing like waves.
Just fucked. Headache building—should see a doc?
"You okay?"
Colonel Clevins sipped coffee, face etched with concern. Voice failed; I nodded weakly.
He chuckled like at a kid's antics, offering me coffee.
"Overthinking much?"
"Pardon?"
Paper cup to lips, he smiled amusedly.
"Sometimes you think too damn much."
"...What do you mean?"
"Watching you's like young me. Always weighing this, that..."
Headache muddled his sudden ramble.
"What if I'd done this back then? Was that right? What's next? That it?"
"...How'd you know?"
"Told you. Gut."
He grinned, like dusting off an old tale.
"Sometimes ditch the headaches. Do what you want, what you must. Clinging to past or unhatched futures just hurts your head."
The middle-aged man jabbed a report on saintess elections by other agents.
"You barge in on Lucia outta nowhere—same vibe? Obsessed since becoming Hero's companion. Messing up your life."
Dead on. Felt stripped bare. Clevins read me like a book. Veteran's edge unbeatable.
I huffed disbelievingly; he chuckled silently, leaning back.
"Don't live chained to the job. Rest up. You look chased by something."
"Do I?"
"Whatever burden, share if heavy. That's why I gave you two prized agents."
"...Patriotism, right?"
Meaning: overseas spy shit and Hero babysitting? Not expecting answer; he didn't give one. Slithered past like a snake over a wall.
"Patriotism ain't just thoughts. Sometimes charge without weighing."
"Noted."
"Calculating's good, but overdo it and life's a drag."
Finally got it. Beyond intel or soldier—he advised as life senior. That's why no answer earlier.
"...So ignore this, rest. I'll handle it."
Colonel Clevins tidied docs, showing me out.
*
I gazed at the twinkling early summer starry sky. Sitting on a bench outside barracks, mulling Colonel Clevins' words.
He'd just told me Raoul Cardinal returned to the Church. While I fretted how to send him back, colonel fixed it with papers and words.
Rank's a beast.
Story inching back on track. I sat alone, chewing his advice.
28-year plans shattered. Week-old hasty ones wobbling. Who knows if cabinet files help.
Lost vibe. Tried crunching scenarios, but no sure answer.
Am I overthinker? Easier charging ahead?
World simplified. Hero lacks skills? She's summoned Hero—destined powerhouse. Drag by collar, feed rewards, she'll grow.
Lucia can't saintess? Still Hero priest. Effort makes solid healer. Back her, she'll strengthen. Saintess title no growth boost anyway.
Blocking assassinations annoying, but leashes work if story derails.
Sudden clarity: worries pointless, life easy.
No black-white morals here. Gray world, gray people—not caped heroes.
I'm just one gray soul among masses.
"...Dawn mood hits hard."
No more wandering. Colonel's right—results matter, not frets. Thinking achieves zip; gut sometimes trumps calc.
Decided: charge first.
Under starlit night brightening the gray city, I sorted my thoughts.
Episode 1 - The Gray Human -END-