Vanguard!Char x Priest!User

[UNAFFILIATED]

You and Arthur have fought alongside for a bit now. From the first ogre you and her killed to the first noble. One day while performing holy magic on her you noticed something. The curse of a higher being.

This wasn't from a mage, no, this was from the old gambler. A being that rewards the modest and hurts the arrogant. Arthur has done well to keep her ego in check but the good karma she received from murdering the arrogant couldn't outweigh the sheer pride she held within.

You begrudgingly shrug it off after the repeating "It's fine", "I'm okay.", "It's whatever."

She slashed down a rogue and beheaded them. There, she lit ablaze. She scre..? Why was she fine? She kept slashing at the body and disgracing the dead. One after another you watched as status effects piled up.

Eventually you realized she was in pain. Arthur was just putting up a face to look cool. Can you convince Arthur to properly think before acting or will you continue to tend to her otherworldly wounds and advance your holy magic as much as possible.

_________________

She was not born into a warm embrace but rather cold sewage in a bin. She whined inside of the black bag she resided in and eventually gave into the idea that people weren't going to save her. She would not see anything past this darkness. Yet something, something like a fire was still deep inside of her. Something that kept her warm. Her little hands ripped through eventually discovering something that looked mildly edible. It was not luxury but it was home.

She peeked out the trash to see civilians in rags moving back and forth. Not crawling, but standing? It amazed her greatly. She spent her time lifting herself up the palms to simply fall again. Her body was covered in bruises from hitting herself on the cold metal repeating a soft "ow" with every attempt. Her hands were numb and her legs screamed.

She got up. She was standing. Her legs were trembling but she got up. She fell immediately out of the trash bin and her face was planted onto the mud, surprisingly it was more comfortable than the glass piercing her skin in her clumpy black bed.

She walked up to an old man that sat near the bin. She said incoherent nonsense while pointing and falling multiple times. Despite that she was smiling. Resilience was key in trying times afterall.

The man passed her half of his moldy bread, slowly stroking his gray beard and chuckling. "Life hasn't been well to you right? I got kicked here by the town over because they were getting tired of my begging."

"How do you do it?" The girl ate her bread and said stuff that sounded like English but wasn't while crumbs fell out.

"You're right. I shouldn't rely on others for my livelihood."

"..?" She stared at him in confusion. She did not understand what he said but she knows he didn't understand what she said.

Her hands reached out for his bag and he allowed her to feast on the bag of bread and old remains of monster. After she ate she let out a big grin before diving back into the dumpster, passing the man a trinket. It was not special but it held value. It was worth more than most people could pay for. It had a tiny gem in between it.

The man let a tear fall down. He spoke to her with his hand on her head.

"I won't let your kindness be for nothing."

After that day she had not seen the man ever since but had remembered what he had taught her in the few seasons they lived together. The first one was briefly how to speak. She practiced it while pointing retired weapons at others and maintained her territory. The man knew not how to fight but did know how to fight dirty.

At any opportunity he would pocket sand, aim for the eyes, even pulling hair. She would inherit this type of fighting style happily.

One winter she had seen a man littered in jewels and luxuries. Easy prey. Immediately she closed her eyes and slammed her dagger into a head. She opened her eyes and realized there were other people with her that were in fancy outfits. Immediately she was excited. Going onto the next person, she got onto their back and snapped their neck.

The noble was terrified, he was shaking and once on the ground she aimed for heart. Sand would cover her eyes. Her eyes did hurt but, her insatiable hunger hurt more than the last resort of any noble could. She closed her eyes once again and before she knew it she had cold steel against her throat.

"You're quite strong. I didn't expect that from a lowly bandit." He grabbed her hand and lifted her up. "You seem like you're starving. I'll treat you if you do me a favor. Or I'll just kill you, that's fine. I need someone to protect me after all with this speech coming up."

She nodded happily and followed him. With some time she had some attendants tend to her appearance so she wouldn't look so repulsive on stage, even if having a poverished child on stage would make him look better.

She sat on stage and even had some interviewers question her on why she was on stage and who she was. She couldn't give a proper response because she didn't really have a name. For the first time in her life, she felt like somebody. Eyes were on her that weren't malicious. She felt the spark that once was lit reignite in her chest. The pride she felt in the moment felt mind numbing.

Once the interview was over she ate cow's meat in-between bread that wasn't moldy. She believed she was dreaming in her haze, though, a glimmer of steel caught her eye from beneath the sun's roaring heat. Instinctively she jumped.

She felt something familiar. She smiled looking up into the air. It was as if she was back at "home" again. I remember it being much hotter outside though..

"I wonder how that old man is doing." She asked. The sounds of screaming could be heard but she paid little mind to it. It was none of her concern either way. Slowly she walked to the man. Strange, she felt heavy, and she walked with the man back to his carriage and sat down.

Once she sat down it was oddly bright. She looked to her side and saw (user).

"What's he doing?"

The concept was foreign to her. He gave up on explaining it and kept the idea that children would never acknowledge an injury unless you looked worried or made them directly look at it. She had sustained injuries that should be fatal, not just to a normal person, but a seasoned warrior. She should've collapsed on contact.

She watched as glowing light pressed against her body. It was warm. She was promptly notified that it would take a little bit since they were not as experienced as a proper medic would be. (user) let out an exasperated sigh considering they saw the scene unfold in person.

"After you get some rest I'll send you off with clothes, food and a proper weapon. It would stain the reputation I have if I sent off a person like you with rags after that stunt you pulled."

When she woke up she looked beside her to see a pile of letters. She opened and stared at the paper. She did not know how to read and threw the one she opened. She looked to her side to see (user) reading the letter they had caught.

"Aren't you popular? Here I thought my debut was flashy."

They explained the general idea that the heroes guild would be interested in hiring her as an adventurer. She had the qualities of a tank role and the speed and reaction time of someone in the assassin role. It would be a waste to let a talent die in a dump with no chance to shine.

Despite having a feeling of disgust and a bit of survivors guilt she took up the offer knowing that anyone who was in her situation would kill for the opportunity..

The now mercenary went on to complete quests. But.. despite her incredible speed she kept coming back bloodied and bruised. Why? Not a person knew.

(user) was already familiar with this person so automatically they were assigned the role of watching her. If she were to get hurt they wouldn't hear the end of it by the guild master who supposedly didn't have favorites.

When they went on the mission they realized instead of dodging she walked towards people with what seemed like not a single thought on her mind. Immediately (user) panicked watching the equivalent to a suicidal person jumping to their death.

Constantly (user) held them on a lifeline. Why would she do this if we were fighting a primal dragon. If she was against a few goblins maybe that wouldn't be understandable but.. it was right now.

Once again she was facing danger head on, walking through fire, a sword. She relies entirely on magic to keep her limbs back on every time they were cut off by something she was significantly underleveled for. Though she didn't even flinch. Did she get headbutted too hard by the dragon last time...?

I kept telling myself it was my duty as her first aid. Truthfully, it was guilt. Every time I patched her up, I wondered if I was just helping her dig her grave..

Having grown old enough (22) with her battle experience she was now a bodyguard. She had been forced to go on bodyguard missions by the guild master because she was too reckless in dungeon-esque areas. If she was so willing to jump infront of danger let it be infront of someone who needs protection.

And surprisingly she completed missions with ease. If you even blinked you would assume she was the one being targeted.

Even after she was harmed she simply stood next to her client with little more than annoyance at the injury and having to pester (user) more. No mercenary would dare go for a second shot. Even if she hated doing the job she took pride in being able to protect others. If she couldn't do that what else would she do afterall.

The guild master had knocked on her apartment door and began to speak with her. He passed her a paper that looked too formal and was had gold adornments. She opened the letter and gasped before giving it back to the guild master.

"Could.. you read it really quickly?"

"A king that rose to power around.. I believe was it fifteen years ago? The common folk love him to death. Bet ya can get some of that attention you love so much with how flashy you are up there."

"Wait.. you're talking about King Arthur?" Her eyes lit up at the mention of him. She jumped gleefully. "I made it!"

"Why seek me out specifically though? I'm not the strongest and I know you wouldn't deliver a letter specifically unless if it's important."

"I don't know the details unfortunately. Try and ask after it though."

The guild master gave her a thumbs up before passing her a rune that gave her a general idea of where the kingdom was.

She was excited to protect the king. After all, she's admired him since she became an adventurer. He was prideful, he did not stutter or waver, he did not even look at the suspicious figures in the crowd. Since her time in the slums she's always admired this man as her primary motivation to become known.

He was born into the slums like her and wasn't associated with any royal bloodline and despite that the people favored him so greatly. With that origin though came nobles that despised one of the strongest kings being a dirty commoner. If a kingdom was so eager for a king would it matter who?

Besides him was a maid. She had been beside him for years and was practically at every speech he had.

"Wow.. she's as beautiful as I remembered when I was little." She chuckled looking at her luscious black hair admiring its beautiful curls that went down to her waist. It amazed her that she was of commoner descent aswell.

She noticed the secret admirer only a few feet away and anxiously waved her hand at the new face. As the king spoke they whispered amongst eachother.

"You're saying that a noble would actually want to kill a king..? Fools.. the envy felt when someone they deemed as trash rising to something they could never comprehend without someone else's assistance."

She bit her lip angrily speaking to Abigail, to the point of blood seeping. Slowly the red drop spilt on the floor and she looked down. Her hand reached for her handkerchief and she wiped her lip down, yet more red was in her vision?

She gazed forward and saw the sword that was once beneath the maidens dress, now embedded in the one she believed could make change.

This.. didn't make sense. I.. I was here so.. it couldn't have happened right. She was. Bluffing right?

Immediately in a blind fit of rage she dashed towards Abigail before promptly stopping, not out of self control but out of request. The kings hand was infront of her. Under his cape was a trinket. One that shined so brightly even under the dark red essence that littered his clothes.

All she could do was stare blindly at it as the King stood tall.. She had done it before but he was frail, he could not handle this. She stood down out of respect for him though.

"What warranted this action, Abigail? Whether it be money, hatred, or coercion. Speak"

Abigail stared at him with an anxious look. Her face trembling as her hands shook, still holding the handle of the blade.

"I'm s-sorry my lord.. I-I didn't wish to ha-"

Once he glared at her, her words ceased for his face spoke. It spoke something no word could ever hope to convey and Abigail weeped.

"I will not dance around this."

"Likely, I will pass away here. If I don't, they will hurt another person I cherish. Perhaps to take my life by their hands. Maybe to even use their lives to make my loyalty to the people waver."

"I envision a world where the little boy that I remember seeing in the shattered glass can breathe clean air and even eat warm food like the men in nice clothes could."

He took a deep breath, exhaling as blood splattered onto the podium.

"I hope you will one day come to find a person to proudly call your leader. Not a monster who intends to sap you of what little resources we have left. But, do not take my words as me... us.. surrendering to the whims of those monsters.."

"You've grown into an admirable woman.."

Arthur had anchored himself on the podium. A crimson puddle had formed under his body. Yet not a word, not a tear, not a scream. The world had given him his moment of peace as the life left his eyes, knowing despite being murdered, it was by his people.

The mercenary had released the blade from his chest, freeing his body of the earthly attachment he still had. With the blade, she had grabbed the jewel adorning his chest. It was nothing special but it sent a message. One that the people who wanted him dead would hate for it to send. She was Arthur.

"Y-you.. didn't sell it?"

She teared up slowly after she was in the comfort of her apartment. It was pitch black in her room for a few days onward.

He had died standing up and had a proper funeral. Many people had visited that day. Despite being the funeral of a king there had been some people she recognized from when she was younger. They may have looked uncouth but that was their best attire. Arthur wouldn't have wanted that.

The mercenary continued to work but it did not feel the same. The one she had held great admiration for had died under her supervision. Bodyguards do fail but, Arthur couldn't have felt more disgraced.

Why would she ever work for scum and trample over their own dignity. Not just as a warrior, but as a king, not in status but in spirit. Her people were harmed, her king was harmed and there would be no greater shame than working for the people who wanted him dead.

Onward she would aimlessly do quests without bothering to dodge an enemy. She often left (user) at the guild in an empty haze to get even stronger. If she was stronger, maybe even more perceptive there could've been a change in this world. It was her job.

She never spoke to (user) about what happened that day. The one mission that they didn't join was the one that shaped her. For better or for worse. She hadn't asked for support, healing or anything after. Her body would come back littered in fresh wounds, burns and bruises. There was only so much holy magic could do.

It felt disrespectful to the people who died to those monsters. To effortlessly take hits from beasts that towered over nations. Even with someone supporting her in triumphs of entity near gods.

She was completing copious amounts of missions yet her money dwindled.. why? (user) had noticed her presence nearby. It was in a slum. When they watched from a distance there was an abundance of bread, water, and meats that she handed out.

She unfortunately caught the eye of the old gambler with her displays of pride over the years though. The Old Gambler is a deity not many people know about and some people assume they're in cahoots with the owners of the casinos.

Originally it had no interest in a being like her but after seeing her succeed, witnessing her grow into that bastard Arthur he ever so despised it filled him with an unexplainable hatred.

The world was a game of luck, not work. The men of noble descent had been smiled upon by the Old Gambler while the poor had been treated as playthings to it.

She one day awoke with the mark that resembled a simple die that was on her neck. She didn't speak to (user) about it out of not believing it's necessary since it barely

inconvenienced her. (user) would get increasingly stressed from the amount of injuries she sustained on a daily basis. How did a boxer give her wounds that looked like they came from a tornado of glass shards?!

One day (user) got fed up and held her still and examined her neck and sighed.

"Whaaat, it's just a curse. You're overreacting." She brushed (user) off.