The Hero’s Ascension

Giving Back

For a while, we walked in comfortable silence.

It was strange. Normally, silence around other people felt awkward, like I was supposed to be filling it with something. Here, it just existed.

The quiet didn’t feel empty, either. It carried the distant rumble of the city, the splashes of water fountains somewhere beyond the buildings, and the now-familiar rhythm of our footsteps. For once, I didn’t feel any pressure to say something. I was content just being there.

As we crossed a narrow bridge over one of the district’s canals, the water below reflected the early morning light in beautiful orange and blue ribbons.

Beyond the rooftops, I could still make out the taller buildings of the Central District where we’d spent most of the day yesterday. We weren’t far from it, just far enough that the noise had died out.

“You seem happier today,” Liza said, stepping around a cart parked beside the road.

The comment caught me off guard.

“Happier?” I glanced away from the canal and toward her. “Happier, how?”

“I saw you smile quite a few times during breakfast.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as we passed a row of workshops. “You just looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Seriously? That’s crazy. Who does that, ha ha,” I asked, letting out a few laughs.

“Maybe I did.”

I stared at her while a pair of locals walked past, carrying crates toward the market square ahead.

Liza’s expression remained serious for a moment as we continued down the cobbled street, the sounds of the busier district carrying on the breeze, before the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

“That was a joke.”

“Oh, thank God.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“You’re surprisingly easy to confuse. It’s quite fun watching your face turn red.”

“Hey… I’m new here, alright.” I gestured vaguely at the buildings surrounding us. “Also, I already get confused easily. Add your shenanigans on top of that, and I don’t stand a chance.”

“You’ve mentioned that.” Her shoes clicked softly against the stones. “A few times, at least. What’s a shenanigan?”

“I feel like that should excuse at least a little confusion.”

Liza broke into a playful laugh, forcing me to join her. We only stopped once the sight of the farm came into view. Out front, the entire northern side had been broken down. Farmer John stood beside the ruined fence with his arms crossed and one boot tapping impatiently against the ground.

“Good morning, John. I hear those pesky boars have ruined yet another fence.” Liza bent down to inspect the shattered and splintered wood. “This might be a bit more than a boar, though. These hoof prints are huge!”

“And I heard the guild sent people on time,” he replied. “Looks like we’re both hearing strange rumors this morning.”

Curious, I moved over to where Liza was inspecting the ground. The prints she was talking about weren’t only huge; they were deep.

“Damn, Liza, how heavy are these boars?”

“They can grow to their environment, which means—”

“They won’t stop growing?! You’re surely joking, right?” I interrupted, terrified I may have stepped in a pile of rubbish.

“Now, now. They aren’t here right now, so let’s just get this fence up, quickly please,” he said, his voice bringing our attention back to the fence.

Farmer John turned out to be exactly the kind of person I’d expected a farmer to be. Since the moment we’d arrived, he hadn’t stopped moving.

One moment he was measuring replacement boards with a careful eye, and the next he was hauling fresh fence posts across the field as though their weight barely registered.

Years of hard work had left their mark on him in ways that couldn’t be mistaken. His hands were rough and weathered, his shoulders broad from a lifetime of physical labor. Every movement carried the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what needed to be done.

Watching him move from task to task made it easy to understand why people respected him.

John wasn’t particularly loud, nor did he carry himself with the commanding presence of a leader, but there was an undeniable confidence that came from performing the same work day after day, season after season, until it had become second nature.

Even Liza did what he said when it came to the repairs, following his instructions without argument as we worked our way from one damaged section of fence to the next.

“How much replanting will need to be done once we’re done, John?” I asked, noticing seeds scattered in the dirt. “Would you like some help with that, sir?”

“No, no. I couldn’t ask any more of you two young kids. I’m sure you have much more fun things to do than help an old man with his chores,” he argued, averting his eyes from mine. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

He meandered closer, placing himself right next to me.

“The crop is lost. It’s late season for a replant. My first worry was the fence. I’ll get my vegetables growing again soon enough. No worries there.”

The repair work settled into a comfortable rhythm before long.

John measured and cut replacement boards while Liza moved ahead of us, already fixing the next section by the time I reached her with supplies. Every time I thought we’d finished, another damaged post seemed to appear out of nowhere.

The deeper we worked our way along the fence line, the more I found myself glancing at the hoof prints scattered throughout the field.

They were enormous.

Not merely large, but deep enough that rainwater had collected in some of them. Several broken fence posts had been snapped clean through, leaving splintered wood scattered across the ground.

“You’ve dealt with these things before?” I asked.

“Every year,” Liza answered, driving another nail into place.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It isn’t supposed to,” she quickly replied.

Farmer John chuckled from somewhere behind us.

“You’re still standing here, aren’t you?”

I wasn’t entirely sure that counted as reassurance.

A few hours later, the fence had finally been repaired.

John had just stepped inside to fetch us something to drink when the ground began to shake.

Dirt jumped from the road, and a flock of birds exploded from the nearby trees.

“They came back!” John shouted from inside the house. “The boars have come back!”