The Flames of Kasin Village
His name was Hyler. He was the kind boy who had first brought us water when Rowell and I arrived at Kasin Village.
“I knew you would survive. I truly prayed I was wrong, but I thought that if it was you, you would make it to the end.”
“…Yeah.”
Kasin Village had been the real starting point of our journey. We had dealt with the bandit group that threatened the village, demanded tribute, and tormented its people. As I had already mentioned, we were still inexperienced back then, and there were only the two of us.
“You must have worked quite hard. It couldn’t have been easy to gather enough money for a request like this.”
I tried not to look at his severed arm as I asked the question, but the red-haired man who had been silent suddenly cut in.
“Haha. To be honest, I didn’t take the job for the money. Frankly, the amount this guy could offer wouldn’t be enough to hire even a single noble’s son, let alone take down the Summoner of Deception, one of the world’s saviors.”
He threw an arm around Hyler’s shoulders in an exaggerated, clownish gesture and shook the tattered empty sleeve.
“But this fellow showed some pretty interesting resolve. Heh heh heh.”
At that unpleasant laugh, Hyler tried to pull away as if recalling some terrible memory, but the red-haired man only gripped him tighter.
“So I decided to pay for the request myself. I’ve been looking for an opportunity like this anyway.”
In that brief moment, I clearly saw something within the madness and playfulness—something that carried a distinct purpose.
“I was truly surprised, though. I had heard that the Second-Best Strategist was a little different from the other heroes, but I never imagined you would do something like that.”
Don’t say any more. At the very least, that incident is not something to be spoken of so lightly from your mouth. That, and only that, is something Hyler must tell me himself, with his own voice, filled with hatred and curses.
Yet he paid no heed to my feelings and uttered the words anyway.
“You burned a young girl to death with your own hands.”
Hyler bit his lip and turned his head away at those words. Around me, the past rushed in with a cold silence, heavy and swift, swallowing the present whole.
When we first arrived at Kasin Village, as I had said, the village was already suffering under the bandits. They not only demanded tribute but had also kidnapped and imprisoned young women and little girls. There was no need to explain their purpose, nor did I wish to.
Rowell wanted to help the villagers, and I had no objection to lending my strength. Together with several villagers, we stormed the bandits’ hideout. Among them was Hyler, who had insisted on coming to rescue his younger sister.
Thanks to Rowell’s fierce efforts and the spirits I summoned, the bandits were quickly annihilated. The problem was that our only combat experience at the time consisted of academy sparring, dueling classes, battle training, and fighting wild monsters.
Taking a human life was difficult for me, and even more so for the kind-hearted Rowell. That hesitation created a small opening.
Realizing they could not win, the bandit leader seized a hostage in that brief moment.
‘Drop your weapons! Any tricks and this brat dies!’
He pressed a dagger tightly against a little girl’s throat and deliberately made a shallow cut, as if ready to stab at any moment. The girl froze in terror, unable even to scream. That girl was Hyler’s younger sister.
If it were now, I could have summoned an appropriate familiar, and Rowell would have thrown himself forward to save her without me needing to act. But as I said, we were still inexperienced then.
The only summons I could call forth were spirits and low-level monsters—none of which would help. Rowell’s hands had stiffened from worry for the girl and the shock of having taken lives.
Moreover, the bandit leader was serious. We had no choice but to lower our swords and dismiss the spirits.
Even though we were disarmed and they were outnumbered, while the leader was alone despite holding a hostage, a rational person would have first tried to escape. But expecting reason from someone who had lost all his subordinates and wealth in a single day was asking too much.
He looked around at us like a madman, then fixed his gaze on Rowell. Rowell’s performance had been so overwhelming that the leader’s fury naturally concentrated on him.
‘Cut off this brat’s arm! Otherwise, the girl dies!’
He ordered the villagers behind us to sever Rowell’s arm. Naturally, none of them dared step forward. But that very reaction only provoked him further.
‘You won’t? You won’t do it!’
He pressed harder on the dagger, shouting as though he would stab the girl’s throat at any second.
‘I-I’ll do it!’
In that moment, Hyler stepped forward. Trembling like a leaf, he picked up a fallen sword and stood before Rowell.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
Rowell said nothing as he watched Hyler repeat those words through tears. Instead, he extended his arm to the side and closed his eyes.
At that instant, my heart pounded like mad. Rowell was prepared to lose his arm. Even though it wouldn’t guarantee the girl’s safety, he was willing to give it up.
Hyler raised the sword high. My consciousness felt as though it were being pushed out of my body, drifting farther away. Rowell—Rowell—was about to lose his arm. And not just his arm; he would lose his life as well.
This cannot happen. This cannot happen. This cannot happen.
That thought alone filled my mind. Mana gathered in my hands.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry……!’
But Hyler could not bring himself to swing the sword down.
‘Hurry up and cut it! Cut it, I said! Do you want to watch this girl die?’
‘O-Oppa……!’
At the bandit leader’s roar, the girl—who had been frozen in fear—finally spoke. Reacting to his sister’s voice, Hyler brought the sword down.
It felt as though time had stopped. I could do nothing in that moment. I did not even remember that mana had already gathered in my hands or that I needed to act. I only felt as if the world were ending.
But—
‘…I’m sorry, Ana.’
Hyler’s sword struck only the ground beside Rowell. No matter that his sister was held hostage, he could not bring himself to cut off Rowell’s arm. Rowell opened his eyes, and Hyler dropped the sword, tears streaming down his face.
Only then did my mind begin to work again. I remembered the mana gathered in my hands. I remembered that if things continued this way, Rowell would die.
‘So you won’t listen to me? Fine! I’m a man of my word!’
‘Wait!’
The moment the bandit leader moved his arm, Rowell reached for the sword Hyler had dropped. For a split second, I imagined Rowell throwing that sword and striking the leader’s head. Or leaping forward to sever the leader’s arm and save the girl.
Now, it would have been entirely possible. But no matter how talented Rowell was, he had been too young then. Though not as much as Hyler, Rowell’s arm trembled, and he was far too kind to gamble with the girl’s life.
‘I’ll cut it myself!’
With those words, Rowell raised the sword and pressed the blade beneath his left armpit. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.
‘Inner Bursting!’
In that instant, I chanted the spell without a moment’s hesitation. Intense flames erupted from my fingertips, surging toward the bandit leader and the girl.
Why I used that spell, or how I managed to unleash such power, I still do not know. But the flames I summoned engulfed both the girl and the leader, not merely scorching their exteriors but invading through their mouths, noses, and ears, burning their esophagi, lungs, and brains from within.
Both the girl and the leader collapsed backward, soon consumed by flames that burst from inside their bodies. They convulsed as if in seizures whenever fire erupted from their skin, but those were merely reactions to the flames and explosions—they were already dead.
And I can say with certainty that their suffering was brief.
‘Ana, Ana!’
Hyler screamed. Rowell and the villagers stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
‘A-Anak, why……?’
When the girl’s body turned to black ash amid the flames, Rowell finally looked at me directly. In his eyes was sorrow—deep, heavy sorrow filled with helplessness and guilt, the likes of which I had never seen in him before.
‘…I couldn’t lose you.’
That was the truth, and there was nothing else I could say. Yet those words only deepened the sorrow in Rowell’s eyes. They were filled with nothing but guilt and remorse—guilt toward the girl, toward Hyler, and toward me as well.
I could not fathom the depth of Rowell’s sorrow and pain at the time. I only knew it was so profound that merely looking at it hurt, and that it represented the fundamental, unbridgeable difference between him and me.
Rowell had been willing to offer his own arm without hesitation for the girl’s sake. Whether that choice was rational or what consequences it might bring did not matter. What mattered was that he was someone capable of making such a choice. Not through calculation or reason, but because from the very beginning, in any situation, Rowell would choose good.
But I was different.
If the bandit leader had demanded my arm instead of Rowell’s, would my choice have been any different? Would I have even hesitated as long?
No. My choice would have been the same. The terrified girl pleading with her eyes, the brother’s love for his sister—none of it would have held any meaning for my actions.
Because from the very start, I was someone who would choose myself, not through calculation or reason.
It was an unavoidable choice. It was for Rowell’s sake. In the end, the world was saved.
None of that meant anything.
Even if the situation were reversed and Rowell had made the same choice to save me, the reason behind that choice, the method, the time spent agonizing, and the weight he would carry afterward—their very foundation—would never be the same as mine.
One who has already chosen self and then seeks a reason, and one who chooses good from the very beginning, can never be the same.
‘You murderer! Murderer! Ana, Ana……!’
Hyler rushed forward, grabbing my arm and clothes as he screamed. His eyes had lost all focus, and there was no strength left in his hands. I knew it was merely a natural reaction to overwhelming pain, sorrow, and shock. A young boy had watched his sister burn to death before his eyes in the most horrific way imaginable.
Of course his mind was not intact. Of course he could not hold onto even the smallest thread of reason.
But at that moment, I had already seen the sorrow and pain in Rowell’s eyes.
I had come face to face with the fundamental difference between him and me—the difference I had always tried to look away from.
And I was witnessing the ever-radiant Rowell being consumed by helplessness and grief.
I had seen clouds gather over the sun that had always guided me rightly.