Despite being definitely different from his memory, he couldn’t not remember this image from the past. Unlike its usual two streaks, four were starting to form on the skin.


    However, that wasn’t what mattered.


    “The hero’s glyph,” he muttered, practically inaudibly. Staring constantly at the sign that only glowed on two of the four streaks, Lutiel saw as it eventually died out, yet remained there, ready to show itself to the world at any given moment.


    Stretching out his arms and stopping the clenching as the egregious pain retracted, he saw the two hands in the darkness, his eyes adjusted already.


    On the right, there was the dim glyph, the left one practically unblemished except for the mole in the middle. Once again focusing on the hero’s marking, he pondered incessantly.


    The only question that remained in his head intensified whenever he recalled the day prior.


    ‘What the hell is happening?’


    …


    Once again, before he knew it, Lutiel was already moving towards the city after leaving the mansion’s fenced grasp. Sitting inside the carriage drawn by the same two horses he had already seen a number of times, he gazed beyond the doors, peeping at the undulating landscape.


    Occasionally riddled with trees starting to leave behind their sun-kissed hairs, they danced along with the wind, flowing gracefully back to the ground.


    Looking at the skies covered sparsely with fair clouds, however, his eyes didn’t follow anything in particular. Going back to the carriage quickly enough, he instead headed down, right where his hand could be seen.


    Free of any folds or wrinkles, the dark jacket lay on him naturally, discerning itself right before the wrists, where a pair of white gloves veiled what had been beneath.


    Focusing on the one to his right, Lutiel took the glove off. Immediately, the pale skin revealed itself to the world accompanied solely by him.


    Yet, instead of what should have been there, it was simply bare skin, unlike last night’s emergency. Rubbing it with his other hand, he caressed the middle, where the hero’s crest hid itself.


    He kept his eyes there no matter what, not caring the least bit about moving across the lands of Helasta. As they remained around his hand, suddenly, the mark started reappearing, not a single streak of it lit up, but still engraved in his being.


    ‘I always wondered how they summoned it. A simple thought wills it, huh? Though, it doesn’t seem to be working.’ He pondered while the glyph started to disappear for the second time, soon kept within the glove’s interior.


    Still, Lutiel didn’t let off so easily, still taking brief glances at it, a mess of incoherence inside his head.


    ‘Does this mean I have become one of the new heroes? Was it because I was the nearest person alive during their death? Do the rest of them know of my existence?’


    It seemed like he couldn’t understand anything nowadays, and being kept inside the town congested by demons did little effort in helping him straighten out the questions his mind had gathered.


    Nonetheless, he had already made his resolution. Unless some miracle befell, Lutiel wouldn’t try anything other than regaining his slumbered strengths.


    Finally, having broken off some of his concentration around the matter, he looked outside his little room of the carriage. A sight similar to before. They had just slowed down in front of the gates, and the dialogue from yesterday repeated itself.


    ‘“Kozs li dho reisu dlar vider?” The voice asked while Lutiel stared at its owner. Standing upright, with the spear on his right hailing to the unusually clear blue skies, the guard, whose whole body was covered in armor, didn''t move even a hair’s breadth from his place.


    “Geas la chod’yr ne dho prasb un volda Zyponia,” a reply came from the front of the carriage, but the guard made no intentions to look at its source. Instead, he slammed his spear against the cobbled ground.


    “Tis tacpunt. Geas tomi ris,” he said, the churning of chains and metals following not a moment later. At the same time, the wooden gates reinforced with black metal began pulling themselves up, glistening sharp spikes at their base.


    Having stopped, with the loud sound of the chains halting their movements, the horses began neighing while the old coachman encouraged them softly. Moving through the city walls without an issue, he heard as the guard from the back asked once again with a fading expanse, inspecting those that arrived after them.


    “Kozs li dho reisu dlar vider?” The disappearing voice asked, Lutiel unable to focus on it anymore.


    Instead, he gazed up as the sun illuminated the enshadowed carriage leaving the dark, wide arch of the gates.


    Receiving a few glances from the similarly armored guards standing atop the doubtfully large fortifications, he transitioned to the level at which he rode.


    The building that he looked at yesterday seemed to rise up, having changed vastly in a brisk manner. As for the muddy ground on which pedestrians and horses walked through, a rhythmical case played out, the chains of the slaves rattling as they pulled onto their masters.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    A heap larger than before seemed to carry the building materials, heading into a particular, collective direction, only a few of them differing and going into the wide alleys. Though, those that did were different as well.


    Battered up to a much lesser degree, they carried sacks on their backs and shoulders, either brown or white dust coming off of them whenever they adjusted the goods.


    Life seemed to beam across the city, in whatever shape or form it may have done so. Nonetheless, the vision was quickly obstructed, the driver having taken the same route as before.


    Once again, the demons sprawled around the pavement stared at the carriage, black in disguise yet known across the whole city.


    Barefaced glares reached his ears as he sat close to the window, no longer interested in gazing out. Instead, the disregard his demeanor expressed met itself with prudent gestures from the crowd he paid no heed to.


    Instead, he simply looked at what had been ahead of himself, awaiting whenever they would arrive at the place.


    However, it wasn’t especially long. Having had the freedom of the road compared to the majority of the residents, they reached the drawbridge quickly even after moving through tens of streets and turns.


    As long as one of the streets themselves, the bridge connected the city into one, separated only by their varied statuses. Quaking slightly across the cobbled floor of the platform, the wheels turned confidently onwards, moving towards the city’s elevated parts.


    Unlike the penurious, open carriages made from wood that drove past the lower parts of the separated town, a loftily ornate one crossed paths with them.


    Looking out on his left, Lutiel’s gaze met and locked itself onto the red eyes passing by. For a moment, although it passed quickly enough to beat the blink of an eye, the details resounded in his head as he pondered over the demon’s mien.


    Staring at each other with the same resolution in mind, the red eyes scoured through the slave, glowing throughout the action. Flowing below his shoulders, the straight black hairs reflected a silvery light off of them.


    Yet, what left the biggest impression on Lutiel was the demon’s clear skin. If not for the fact of a single horn sticking out from the hairs and the eyes, he would have easily mistaken him for some noble that conspired with the demons.


    ‘Now that I think about it, there were a lot of demons like him around the streets. Without horns or any special features, would it even be possible to somehow discern them?’


    As he cluttered his head with the topic, the carriage finally went through to the other side of the city, making him snap back to reality. Looking out of the windows, the man witnessed an utter change of the streets around them.


    Unlike the long blocks of partially-wooden buildings used for the lower-placed citizens, Lutiel saw a staggering amount of stone facades, carved down to the smallest of details and kept within the inner walls even higher than the outer ones he saw minutes ago.


    The road was no longer the same ground that grew wheat and trees, paved with brick and stone in its place. Buildings, as well as the road itself, were incomparably cleaner compared to the lower parts of the city.


    Not to mention to the demons that walked through these roads. Ladies and misters wore flamboyant attire, vividly bright unlike the bleak, dark jackets all of the demons below practically wore.


    Carrying themselves with flagrant fortunes, the only thing that made the noble demons identical to the citizens were the looks they were giving the slave being transported inside the demon lord’s carriage.


    No, as Lutiel stared at them, he soon turned back to looking at the seats in front of him, the wrinkled noses and squinted eyes leaving a distasteful sensation at the back of his mouth.


    Nonetheless, with a composed face, Lutiel looked ahead, the carriage having turned countless times in this new scope of a realm. Making their way through the streets, they entered what seemed like the shopping district, except for the fact that only noble and high-standing demons walked through there.


    Sultry signs lured in his eyes, the demonic texts lit brightly despite the absence of darkness. In the middle of the road, a fountain sprayed its waters high, kids playing inside. Meanwhile, around it, different kinds of demons sat on the benches, reading books or simply relaxing while no water ever splashed upon them.


    Slowly driving past all of them since the demons walking by gave way, they soon arrived near the very end, right before the stone railings along the path around the parts that had no walls.


    As he stepped outside, the carriage having stopped already, so did he for a few moments, gazing away at the blaring sun bouncing its rays against the sea far away. A few of the demons that walked next to the railings also stopped, but to gaze at him instead.


    “Kozs la ges bie’yr nuen?!” The man asked as he started getting closer to Lutiel, having broken apart the arm previously entangled with his lady.


    Still, as Lutiel looked up at the man''s head, he calmly retrieved the coin in his pockets. Before the demon could even come in his range, he already showed it with a stretch arm.


    “It’s my lady’s request,” he said, making the man in the suit click his tongue before snorting and turning around, joining the demon covering her mouth with a hand.


    And when the demon was gone, Lutiel finally turned to the side, seeing his objective. Large panes of glass revealed whatever had been inside, though he already envisioned a picture based on his master’s words.


    Standing next to the window, the gowns displayed moved around while showing off different poses, despite not being mounted onto any stand, floating about in the air.


    And, as they stopped moving, the dresses moved back before elegant suits replaced them, doing the same thing as their female counterparts, though with different moves and styles.


    Unlike the soft and graceful flows of the fabric, the tuxedos and jackets walked and moved with confidence bound to impress many young men.


    However, with the quickest of glances, Lutiel moved on, soon reaching out to the handle of the doors. Opening them, a bell chimed from above, and the demonic ladies and men gathered inside immediately turned to him.


    ‘Do I have a certain smell to myself or something?’ He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. He had gotten used to it already, but the sudden looks at his collar and face always imprinted something within.


    “Kozs li e involnia bie’yr nuen? Jun li klar’yp dho meitima czez un dho sive,” a female voice sprung around the place filled with countless costumes, gowns, and dresses, all at display for them to feel and touch.


    Stopping any of their inspection of the clothes, they all glared at him, soon changing into the same look of ridicule. A slave dared to step inside the noble streets, much less a building on them.


    However, before any of the people gathered there could pierce their horns or claws through him, a clear voice resounded deep from within.


    “Cinaefr ini pruc dho involni, zost,” the female voice said, much to the astounded, squealing faces. Spreading throughout the whole space all the way from the stairs leading to the higher floor, it struck the demons deeply.


    “Huh? Panyi Luviene? Jun li inpiraj’no! Tis ched nuen kiz pokuc e rec!” The same voice from before replied, an incredulous look on the face of its owner.