Niavella had always admired the hero.

Even when the bakery aunt cursed her for touching the bread or when the city guards looked at her with disgust, she could keep smiling because of the hope the hero gave her.

A hero straight out of a fairy tale. He was a kind and strong person.

Niavella lived, clinging to the hope that one day, the hero would appear. However, the more hope she had, the crueler the people around her became.

There was only one reason.

Because she was the daughter of a witch. And the daughter of a witch would inevitably become a witch herself.

Niavella couldn’t understand it.

By the time she was old enough to think and judge for herself, her mother and father were already gone. She had grown up entirely alone, surviving through moments of sheer chance.

In the harsh reality of that city, she lived a life of hardship.

One day, though, she met her first benefactor.

While she was gathering dozens of herbs near the forest for a task given by an elderly neighbor, she encountered a woman.

[Oh my, you’re one of my kind.]

My kind.

It was a strange phrase to hear, as it wasn’t common for humans in the Empire to refer to each other that way. There were no beastfolk or elves living nearby, so it could only mean one thing.

[I am a witch, just like you. From the looks of you, life hasn’t been easy, has it?]

The woman introduced herself as Diaursil.

From then on, Niavella had a new routine. Every evening, as the sun began to set, she would go to the forest to meet Diaursil. The woman said she was there to search for mystical gems.

[It seems you haven’t fully realized your powers yet.]

Diaursil would pat young Niavella on the head as she spoke.

[But that’s something you must discover for yourself. It’s the first step for any witch.]

The first step had to be taken alone, and Diaursil respected that, offering Niavella guidance in a different way.

[We witches generally live alone. Occasionally, we gather for a witches' council, but… not often.]

Diaursil taught Niavella the knowledge necessary to live as a witch.

[Oh dear, that must hurt. Here, crush this herb and apply it to your wound.]

She also shared practical wisdom for daily life.

[You look sad today. Come here, let me give you a hug.]

And lastly, she gave her the affection that her parents had never been able to provide.

Though their time together was short, it was enough to make Niavella deeply attached to Diaursil. But the day came when Diaursil had to leave.

[Niavella, will you come with me?]

Diaursil offered her a proposition—to leave the city and open a shop together.

Niavella, though deeply attached to her mentor, refused.

[Why not?]

[Because when the hero comes, I don’t want to seem weak.]

The hero.

Her prince from the fairy tales, her savior.

Though Diaursil had taught her that witches must live alone, Niavella’s greatest reason for refusing was her unwavering hope in the hero. The hero was still the pillar that kept her going.

Fairy tales were just stories.

But for Niavella, the story of the hero wasn’t just a tale—it was a source of strength. And so, despite Diaursil's offer, Niavella couldn’t be swayed, and they eventually parted ways.

Soon after Diaursil left, Niavella awakened her powers.

Fire—but it was still just a small ember at first.

She became the Witch of Embers.

Though she continued to be ostracized and was mostly alone, another person eventually came into her life.

[You’re the witch, right?]

A girl with blue hair.

[My name’s Rosen. I really want to see some cool magic—can you show me?]

Rosen was Niavella’s second connection.

Rosen was a poor girl living on the streets.

Despite her poverty, she never lost her cheerful spirit. Niavella admired her, and the two quickly became close friends.

[Hahaha! A witch who can’t even use magic!]

[Come here, you…!]

They spent as much time together as Niavella had with Diaursil, and their bond deepened every day. But the citizens of the city couldn’t tolerate it.

[Ugh, what’s this? A witch? Disgusting!]

The more affection Niavella received, the more hatred came her way. Slowly but surely, the smiles Rosen and Diaursil had brought to her face began to fade.

One day, however, news arrived in the city.

[A hero has appeared!]

[A hero? That was just a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Is it real?]

…What?

A hero?

Niavella couldn’t believe it when the townspeople began talking about the hero—the figure who had been her source of strength for so long. But as more news came, she had to accept it.

A hero had truly appeared.

His name was Aswell.

He had rare black hair, and on the very first day, he was chosen by the sacred sword. He was exactly like the hero from Niavella’s fairy tales, the one she had long admired.

[What? He’s going to become an adventurer?]

The hero was going to take on difficult requests from the adventurers’ guild as part of his journey. And if she wanted to meet him, she’d have to become an adventurer herself.

[Um, can’t you just not go? It’s too dangerous…]

Rosen tried to stop her, but in the end, she couldn’t dissuade Niavella, who went to the adventurers' guild.

[Register as an adventurer? Hmm. Alright.]

Surprisingly, registering wasn’t difficult. The hateful looks she received were nothing new, so they didn’t bother her much.

[Here’s a request to clean the sewers. There’s nothing else right now.]

From that day on, Niavella worked tirelessly, taking on all sorts of small, menial requests to raise her adventurer rank. For a whole year, she completed hundreds of minor tasks.

But then, suddenly…

[What? Your rank? You can’t raise it.]

It came without warning. And the reason was simple.

[A witch being an adventurer? You should be grateful we even let you join.]

Was she really supposed to just be thankful that they had accepted her at the lowest rank?

As she sank into despair, a man from the guild approached her.

A middle-aged man with a mustache.

[You want to raise your rank, right? I’ve got just the request for you.]

He told her that there was a massive group of monsters near some nearby ruins that needed to be dealt with.

He promised that if she completed the request, her rank would be raised immediately.

[If you complete this, you’ll be a great help to the city.]

Niavella accepted the request with hope, sneaking out of the city at dawn to avoid Rosen, who would surely try to stop her.

She only realized something was wrong when she came face-to-face with the monsters.

They were far larger than the description on the request. Tentacles, fangs, and a mane that covered their entire bodies.

A high-risk monster that no ordinary adventurer would ever be able to face.

It bore no resemblance to the creature she had been tasked to subdue.

Only then did Niavella understand.

She had been deceived.

Perhaps deep down, she had known all along. They were too busy mocking her to ever accept her as one of their own.

But she had ignored it.

She had clung to the hope that if she just tried harder, if she just smiled a little more, they would eventually accept her.

In that moment, Niavella felt a spark ignite within her heart.

Her ember of despair and anger grew into a massive flame.

The fire consumed the monster in an instant. But Niavella couldn’t feel joy or rage.

The fire had grown beyond her control.

The overwhelming power took the form of a giant, imprisoning Niavella at its heart. The fire giant, fed by her fury, sought out the source of that anger and began its slow march toward the city.

And now…

"Stop! Please, stop…!"

Niavella struggled desperately within the roaring flames to stop the giant, but no matter how much mana she poured into it—or even tried to stop the flow—the giant didn’t listen.

What should she do?

She was angry at the city and its citizens for how they had treated her. But this wasn’t how she wanted to take revenge.

She had only wanted to succeed, to become someone too impressive for anyone to mock. But at this rate, hundreds of people would die, and the city would burn to the ground.

"Don’t move… Please… stop moving…"

Niavella weakly pounded her fists against the giant’s body, but it didn’t respond.

Instead, it began to tempt her from within, whispering to her heart.

Don’t you want to finally be compensated for all the suffering you’ve endured?

Just close your eyes for a moment, and it will all be over.

They are the ones who did you wrong.

At the same time, Niavella felt the last of her mana draining away.

Diaursil had taught her a little, but she hadn’t fully learned how to control her mana efficiently.

The mana exhaustion was hitting her, and she could feel her eyelids growing heavy.

‘If I just close my eyes once… will it all be over?’

Rosen’s face flashed in her mind.

She must be waiting for me in the city.

I have to tell her to run.

And wasn’t it true that the hero had arrived in a nearby town?

I wonder… is the hero really as handsome as they say?

As she drifted toward unconsciousness, countless thoughts raced through her mind.

She didn’t want to lose hope, even at the end. She wanted to stop the giant, but there was nothing left she could do but watch helplessly.

Still.

Maybe.

If he’s really like the hero from the fairy tales, maybe he’ll pull me out of here. Maybe he’ll stop this giant.

With that thought, Niavella whispered softly to herself.

"Hero…"

At that moment—

Whooosh!

"Niavella!!"

A brilliant white light pierced through the giant’s chest where Niavella was trapped.

Startled, she opened her eyes to see a man standing before her.

"Are you alright? Take my hand!"

The man thrust his hand toward her, the light of his shining sword still glowing behind him.

His hair was… black.

"I’ll save you. Don’t worry about anything anymore. Everything will be alright."

He spoke the words she had longed to hear so casually, grasping her hand firmly.

With her vision fading, Niavella gazed up at him and murmured faintly.

"Hero…?"

Have you really come to save me?

And with that, Niavella lost consciousness.