I'M THE HERO

Chapter 11: Prelude

FEIN POV:

I struck her with a blow hard enough to render her unconscious.

I sensed something ominous about her, and without a second thought, fear overwhelmed me and instinctively struck her down.

The crowd of trainees cheered and clapped for my victory. 

I'd avenged Avar and defeated this newcomer, though she didn't stand a chance from the start.

I wasn't as careless as Avar.

I am Fein, one of the Overlord's elite warriors, trained in the art of combat. 

My mentor, Ignias, was a fearsome demon known for slaughtering thousands of elves during the last great war. I had learned everything from him—the brutal techniques, the ruthless mindset, and the ability to harness dark energy in battle.

The crowd continued to cheer as Ignias approached, his massive frame towering over me

 I expected him to congratulate me, maybe offer a few words of praise. Instead, he punched me hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of me.

 The force of the blow doubled me over, and I gasped for air.

Ignias formed dark energy into writhing tentacles, wrapping them around the unconscious girl and lifting her off the ground

 He carried her in his arms and vanished in a flash of dark energy, teleporting away.

The cheers of the crowd faded into the background as I regained my breath, clutching my stomach. 

Despite the apparent victory, it was clear that Ignias wasn't one to take lightly.

I must've done something unacceptable.

 I was left with questions about the girl's fate and a gnawing sense of foreboding about what awaited her in the hands of my merciless mentor.

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NARRATOR POV:

Ignias, caring only about the power within the girl, hastily teleported her to the infirmary.

 Upon arrival, he demanded the best doctor on duty to assess her condition and provide immediate treatment.

If the girl suffered any fatal injuries, Ignias knew he would face severe reprimand and prosecution from the cloaked figure. 

The infirmary was a spacious area nestled within the castle's central wing. 

The walls were constructed of smooth stone, providing a clean and sterile environment, a stark contrast to the fortress's often grim and weathered exterior. 

Rows of neatly aligned beds stretched along the length of the room, separated by white curtains for privacy. Each bed was equipped with a small bedside table and a wooden chair for visitors.

Overhead, magical lamps cast a bright but soothing light, designed to provide ample illumination without being harsh on the eyes. Along the walls, shelves held various medical supplies—potions, salves, bandages, and herbs—neatly organized for quick access.

 A distinct scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingled with the earthy aroma of healing herbs.

Mal, the chief doctor, had his own workspace at the far end of the infirmary. 

It was a compact area with a large desk piled with medical records and a wide assortment of vials and bottles.

 A cauldron sat in the corner, its contents bubbling gently as Mal prepared his unique blends of potions and elixirs.