Roots on Cobblestone
By the time the murky aura of the Demon King's Castle had completely washed away, the forest came to an end. I stopped. Then I took a deep breath. The air was different. Clean and sweet. Just moments ago, I'd felt utterly rotten. A cradle of damp ancient trees that let in not a single ray of sunlight. No wonder my mood had been in the dumps. But now, emerging from that thick, dark prison, all my senses screamed back to life, sharp and renewed. I felt truly alive. Maybe it was because my body had turned plant-like, but just soaking in the sunlight made every cracked cell in me feel like it was healing. I reached out a hand. Warmth settled on the back of it. It felt good. I started walking again. My roots gripped the soil, pulled, and stepped forward. A strange sensation, different from human strides—like sucking the earth right into me. I glanced around briefly, and my gaze dropped to the hill below.
There, at the base, rough stone walls and clustered rooftops came into view. Medieval city walls. A flag with unfamiliar patterns fluttering in the wind. A city.
"A city, huh." The thought slipped out indifferently, then trailed off. "...Wonder if there'll be lots of grass?"
The man standing beside me—the one who'd introduced himself as the Hero—let out a deflating sigh at my question. But it was more like a leaky breath than a laugh.
"Probably... not much."
I nodded. Yeah, figured as much. Medieval cities were full of stone. Bricks everywhere, hard-packed roads. Not much grass. That's how human cities usually were. A stubborn parade of cold stone and bricks, built single-mindedly for profit. I cast my gaze farther, beyond the city's edge. Endless forests and fields stretched out behind it, sunlight spilling wide across them. The wind rippled through the grass. Looked nice. That's when the Hero broke the heavy silence.
"Still..., how about we at least check out the city."
I turned slowly to look at him. He was leaning on his sword just to stay upright. Dark red bloodstains had crusted between the cracks in his battered armor, and a fishy stench wafted from them. He'd looked exhausted when we first met, but now he was in such bad shape, it wouldn't surprise me if his soul slipped right out of his body.
"Cities don't have much grass."
"It's still a city." He added stubbornly. "We've come this far—feels wrong to just bail. We haven't even properly thanked you for helping us out."
The woman clutching her shattered shield chimed in from the side. "Yeah. We should at least see the city. Gotta check out what the human world is like, right?"
Her shield had lost all shape, barely hanging onto the handle. Like the Hero, her armor was in rough condition. Claw marks gouged deep into the plate, like dragon talons had ripped through. Three long gashes ran from her chest to her stomach.
The Saintess, her face pale, spoke quietly. "Stay with us just a little longer. Just... for today, that's all I ask."
Her pure white priestess robes had long lost their color, soaked in red blood and clinging damply like bandages over wounds rather than clothes. Golden hair fluttered amid the bloodstained fabric. Behind her, the elderly Archmage cleared his throat and continued.
"Let's rest a bit first..., you and us alike."
I turned back to the city. Solidly interlocked stones, suffocatingly tall walls, and firmly shut gates. Then, the heavy iron doors began to creak open with a groan. Like something pent-up bursting free, people poured out from between them like a tide.
"Over there! The Hero's party is back!"
A sharp cry sliced through the air from afar, loud enough to reach even us up here past the gates.
"I sent for reinforcements earlier. Coming back from hell deserves some cheers. And..., truth is, we're at our limit."
No sooner had the Archmage finished explaining than armored knights kicked up dust, racing toward us. They halted right in front of me like statues. Their gazes slowly dropped. To my legs. Or rather, where legs should have been. The knights' expressions shifted from joy to bewilderment. I followed their eyes downward. Below my hips, thick roots sprawled messily across the dirt. People's faces hardened in an instant. Some recoiled in horror.
"...What the hell is that."
"A monster?"
Clang. A sharp metallic ring as someone drew their sword.
"...When you called for support, you didn't mention me?"
"Sorry. My mana was tapped out—just barely managed the signal. No time to explain you."
The Archmage raised his staff with trembling hands, blocking the knights. "Put that sword away. She's no enemy. Don't be rude."
"...Then what is she? Look at those roots!"
"Our benefactor. She saved our lives."
Murmurs spread like waves. People scanned me head to toe in disbelief, their eyes lingering on the roots. Nothing much to say, so I just drove them deeper into the soil. My shaky body finally steadied. Much easier to stand like this.
"She joined us at the Demon King's Castle. Cleared the path and held off those executives."
The knights' wariness eased a bit at the Archmage's words. But suspicion lingered. They still gripped their sword hilts, poised to lunge.
"...Then tell us yourself!"
A knight's sharp shout pierced the air. The Archmage leaned on his staff, turning to me as if passing the buck.
"Just your average flower."
The Archmage nodded slowly at my dry reply. Before the knights could react, the Hero—propped up on his sword like a cane—spoke with effort.
"Please... consider our situation... too...."
That desperate plea finally shifted the tense gazes.
"It's the Hero!"
"The real Hero!"
The chaos pivoted in an instant. Cheers mixed with worried screams erupted, and people swarmed like bees to support the blood-soaked Hero Party.
"Finally... feels normal."
The shield woman laughed hollowly, dropping what she held. The mangled metal scrap rolled across the stone with a dull clunk. "Ah......" Her knees buckled at the sound. People cried out in alarmed horror as she collapsed.
"Everyone's critically wounded! Call the healing squad!"
The Saintess raised her trembling hand with effort. Faint, pale light spread like smoke. But that was it. Her hand flopped limply to the ground.
"Sorry...."
The Saintess whispered in a wet voice. "My holy power... is drained...."
Before she finished, her body tilted. A nearby knight caught her hurriedly.
"Get a stretcher! To the cathedral!"
"The mage lord?! Fetch the Archmage!"
The scene turned into a hellish clamor of screams and footsteps. The Archmage stared blankly at the pandemonium, then nodded wearily in satisfaction. "Yeah. This'll do. At this point......" Thud. His staff hit the ground weakly. His frail body tilted sideways. "Guess I need... a break too." Thump. He toppled like a felled log. In that fleeting moment, all three who'd led me here collapsed unconscious. Even as the Hero was dragged away by the crowd, his eyes stayed on me till the end. "That friend too...." Then he passed out. Surrounded by countless knights, I alone remained atop the hill. Wary stares encircled me. No sharp hostility like before. But unease still clouded their eyes. Now it was decision time. Head into that barren city, or go my own way. I didn't agonize long.
"...Where to?"
The knights exchanged glances at my question, then cautiously parted to clear a path. A strange formation—escort or encirclement?—formed around me. My roots touched the hard stone road. Cold stone chilled my nerves instead of cool soil. Someone groaned in shock at my crawling movement. "......Whoa, it moves with roots." Didn't matter. I'd be curious too if I saw moving roots. Past the gates, the city buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the silence before. "The Hero's back!" "They got the Demon King! We won!" "For real?!" Rumors had spread like wildfire. The moment we crossed the threshold, roaring cheers deafened my ears. But that hot fervor turned to icy silence the instant they spotted me. Without the knights, sharp stones might've flown. Hostility gleamed in their eyes. We pushed straight through. After that, I scanned the surroundings indifferently. Hard stone roads crushing the earth. Low buildings blocking the view. Windows of every sort. This city was drier and more barren than I'd imagined. The only visible greenery: pitiful flowers trapped in pots. Sad. Felt like my hobbies were being denied.
"What's wrong."
A knight urged from the side. Instead of answering, I quietly let mana flow. It spread like veins. The grass along the roads—blocked before—stirred in joy, ready to spring up vigorously. No one in the city noticed. Too drunk on the sweet news of the Hero's return. Of course, nothing malicious. Just my petty whim against the desolate sight. The area was pandemonium. Some backed away from me, others wept in joy, some hugged each other. The crowd streamed toward the cathedral with the Hero Party. Left behind: chilly air and stares aimed at me. Then, a woman in neat uniform rushed up, whispering to a knight. "...They're calling from over there. The City Lord." A brief silence. She glanced at me and added, "Since you're with the Hero Party, they need to confirm." I nodded wordlessly. Hard not to check out a weirdo like me. "This way." Following the guide, we headed to the city center. Buildings grew taller, roads wider. Whispers swelled accordingly. "Look there, that's the one with the Hero......" "What is that thing." Not quite a castle, but the biggest building in town. As we entered the mansion, grass finally entered my view. I paused to look down at it. Nice. The fresh grass scent finally eased my mood a bit. But something was missing. Sad. Pitiful. Stifled. Memories of the barren roads we'd passed flashed back. So I checked the mana spread through the city. And tested my power once more. "Please head up. The City Lord awaits." The woman urged. Up we go. To the lord's room. I nodded curtly in reply, and lightly flicked my left hand. A soft, warm breeze swept the garden. Guided further, we reached the third-floor lord's chamber. The City Lord was an elderly man with a neat beard. He waited there with a few attendants. The door shut the moment I entered, cutting off the outer noise. In the quiet room, his sharp gaze traveled past my lilac hair to my roots.