I'm Not the Heroine

Chapter 45

The northwestern region of the Empire is known for its treacherous mountains. These mountains stretch all the way to the northern lands, forming a natural fortress-like barrier.

The mining town of Lacrur is situated at the very start of this mountain range.

Boom...

Crash!

"Wow... It's so loud..." Nia murmured, her hands covering her ears.

"Well, it is a mining town," I replied, understanding the source of the noise.

Lacrur felt like something out of a steampunk fantasy. Compared to other cities, it was filled with more metal tools and structures.

Rails and mining carts stretched from beyond the mountains to the heart of the city. Countless chimneys belched smoke into the air, and the constant clanging of metal being hammered and cut filled the atmosphere. This was Lacrur's defining trait.

"Ha ha ha!"

"Come here!"

Both adults and children alike wore hats, likely to shield themselves from the metal dust and debris floating around.

"Hero, lower your head for a moment," I instructed.

"Huh?"

There’s a saying: When in Rome, do as the Romans do. So I pulled out a hat I had prepared and placed it on the Hero’s head.

It was a wide-brimmed hat, something like what a cowboy might wear. With the Hero’s naturally striking looks, the hat didn’t detract from his appearance at all.

But just putting it on wasn’t enough—the Hero’s hair still stuck out awkwardly. I quickly fixed his hair, pushing it behind his ears and ensuring it all fit neatly under the hat.

"...Thanks," he said, his face slightly flushed.

"You're welcome," I replied. “Everyone else, here are your hats as well.”

"Oh wow...," Lapiria exclaimed.

"Nice!" Nia added with a grin.

The heroines' hats had more varied designs. Lapiria’s had a feather decoration, while Nia’s hat had a wider brim to protect her face from the dust.

As for me, my hat was the most similar to the Hero’s. I had opted for a simpler design, with only a few runes inscribed for purification and cleaning magic. At least while wearing the hats, we wouldn’t have to worry about our clothes getting dirty.

"Are you the Hero?" a booming voice interrupted us.

Clang! Clang!

It came from a captain of the city guard, his voice echoing louder than the nearby blacksmiths. The Hero nodded in response, and the captain gestured for us to follow him inside the city gates.

"I apologize for the noise. It's working hours, so the city can be quite loud. This area should be quieter," he explained.@@@@

"It’s fine. The bustling atmosphere makes the city feel alive," the Hero replied politely.

He was too kind. Frankly, if we were outsiders, it would have been reasonable to complain about the noise, but the Hero was ever the diplomatic one.

"We’ve been expecting you, Hero. The Marquis will send someone shortly," the captain informed us.

The Marquis of Lacrur.

I tried to recall what I knew about him. In the original story, he wasn’t as prominent as Count Alphares, so my memory was vague. I remembered only that the Lacrur family ruled the mining city, supplying the Empire with vast resources and technologies.

And...

I believe their child had an illness.

After a short wait, a butler appeared at the gate.

"The Marquis has invited you to his estate," the butler announced.

We followed the butler to the Marquis’ residence. The atmosphere here was vastly different from Count Alphares' estate.

Boom...

In the distance, I could hear the rhythmic sound of a hammer striking metal in a forge.

Boom...

Thud...

The constant sounds of Lacrur—the clang of metal, the thump of mining work—never stopped. But now, mixed into those familiar noises, was something different. A dissonant sound, like something unnatural.

Crash!!

“Hahaha, easy now. Soon, we’ll be ready to move.”

A demon, its entire body seemingly made of metal, gently stroked something. The enormous object, which at first glance resembled an ore, shuddered at the demon’s touch.

The demon wasn’t caressing a simple rock. What it touched was a piece of a much larger entity, one that occasionally appeared and disappeared from view as it shifted beneath the ground.

"Hmm, this body is really uncomfortable. Don’t you agree, Behie?"

All around the demon lay splatters of blood, as though some sort of shedding had taken place.

"But don’t worry, this child and its host will understand soon enough. After all, they’re up against the Hero’s party."

Crack.

A fine crack appeared on the demon’s metallic form.

"Oh, it’s cracking again."

Though the demon had stolen the body it currently inhabited, it had tried to honor its subordinate’s sacrifice by maintaining it for as long as possible.

But it seemed the body couldn’t withstand the demon’s malevolent energy any longer.

"It looks like this body won’t hold out against my power..."

If that were the case, the demon wouldn’t be able to use its subordinate’s body for much longer. By the time it faced the Hero’s party, the body might shatter completely.

"...Well, it can’t be helped."

This was the nature of demons. It was only natural to sacrifice the weaker for the sake of the stronger.

Even the arrogant vampires had once abided by the same law.

"Facing the Hero’s party is unfortunate, but..."

Because of that, the demon had the opportunity to act. Thanks to the massacre of fifty castles and the thousands of vampires living within them, the demon had secured the "cause" necessary to descend here.

"Hmm~ hm~ hmm~."

“Huh? What’s that sound?” a voice echoed nearby.

The demon turned to see a distant light—a miner, shining his lantern in their direction.

“No way... Is that a demon...?”

The terrified miner pointed his lantern at the demon, his eyes widening in horror as their gazes locked.

Thud.

Without even lifting a finger, the demon watched as the miner’s body convulsed and fell, his eyes bleeding and his body collapsing into a pool of flesh and bone.

"Humans are so fragile," the demon mused, softly caressing the remains of the miner’s head, which dissolved into liquid under its touch.

Hopefully, the Hero would be strong enough to look them in the eye and not crumble.

The demon went by the name Rastok.

But that was merely the name of the body’s previous owner.

She, the Blood Iron Duke Mercadiae Caracioni, watched with glowing gray eyes from the darkness.