Everyone hates me in this new world and they will pay for it

The sun began to set on the horizon, painting the sky with orange hues. It was about six in the evening, and the medieval city was in its usual routine. Peasants, merchants, artisans, and even some hurried knights were buying and selling throughout the city. The shops were crowded, and goods sold like water. A peaceful air stretched over the kingdom.

Arthur walked, escorted by the guards, with his gaze lowered and a neutral expression. He felt lost, without any direction. His thoughts tormented him; he felt a mixture of anguish and anger, not knowing the next chapter of his life.

Several residents noticed his presence and turned their attention to the boy with looks of judgment and dissatisfaction. By now, the entire kingdom would know about his lack of magic and his assassination attempt. He kept his head down, trying to ignore the murmurs about him.

"Was that the one who tried to kill the hero?"

"I heard he has no magic. What a pathetic hero."

"Why didn't they sentence him to death?"

"And he tried to murder a real hero? How dare that worm."

The irritated boy tried to control his emotions as he continued his walk to the slums.

The walk continued for about fifteen more minutes. The city center began to fall behind, the voices grew quieter, and the atmosphere a bit calmer. A short time later, Nyra stopped abruptly and said:

"I'll finish escorting him. You can disperse," she ordered, looking at the guards.

The guards nodded, returning to the capital in search of new orders.

Nyra and Arthur continued to walk in silence, until the boy, unable to hold back his thoughts, broke it.

"Are you okay, Nyra?" he asked with concern, looking at the mark on her face.

Nyra took a deep breath and replied.

"Yes, I am. You should be more worried about yourself, you know? You've been banished from the kingdom and exiled to the slums. Do you have any idea how bad that is?" she asked, looking at the young man.

Arthur smiled and replied in a calm tone.

"Yes, I know. After all, I know nothing about this world. I don't even know how I'm going to earn money to survive. But I'm glad you're okay, and I appreciate you trying to help back there. That was very cool of you… and you were right, that Sireon really is an asshole."

Nyra was surprised by the boy's smile and the kindness of his words. The boy was being sent to hell and yet he was still smiling and worrying about her. This truly corresponded to the attitude of a hero. For Nyra, it mattered little whether he had magic or not; this demonstration of strength alone proved everything. Even scared and frightened, he remained firm and confident. At least, that was the image he was trying to convey.

"I warned you, kid. He's a powerful asshole. Unfortunately, I can't help you, but I will give you some advice. This isn't over. They will come back to bother you. But I think you've already figured that out, right?" Nyra said.

Arthur nodded, his head low.

"I really have. It seems I'm destined to fail. But don't worry, I'll figure something out," he replied, trying to force a smile.

Arthur tried to maintain a facade that everything would be okay, that he was okay, but the truth was that his mind was devastated by everything that had happened. He felt tired, genuinely tired of everything—of the new world, of the people, of everything that brought him down and filled him with rage. The only thing hammering in his head was the need to get back home. Then, he concluded, a cold and calculating determination hardening his will:

'If I have to depend on those incompetents to get back home, I'm destined to stay here forever. I'm going to get stronger on my own and defeat this Demon King by myself. No matter how hard it is, I'll make the impossible happen. I will become the strongest hero this kingdom has ever seen!'

Arthur looked at his hand, where the number "1" indicating his level seemed to mock him. In theory, it should be logical. He just had to defeat some monsters to level up and gain powers. However, since he had no magic, that path was closed to him. He also had no sacred weapon, not even a sword. But that didn't matter now. He would have to sort everything out in the slums.

The boy tried to suppress his feelings, seeking comfort in the uncomfortable—something that seemed illogical, but he clung to it. After all, it was the only thing he had left.

As they moved forward, the scenery changed drastically. Narrow alleys filled with people, labyrinth-like corridors, poorly lit and moldy, worn down by time. The smell of cooking food mixed with the almost unbearable stench of rotting garbage and other waste. Numerous houses were made of old wood, torn tarps, and thin beams of rusted metal; many of them had holes in the walls where one could see the people inside.

The further they went, the worse the scenery became. Skeletal people lurked in the shadows, looking like they were just waiting for an opportunity to rob him. Children with tired eyes and torn clothes watched him with suspicion and distress.

Some whispers echoed through the area. Even in the slums, Arthur would have no peace. Several people whispered among themselves about the hero without magic.

"They sent him here?"

"Trash like him doesn't even deserve to be here…"

The judgment was harsh, and it still bothered Arthur. However, there were no options. He would have to get used to his new life, filled with judgment, criticism, and disbelief, until he was strong enough to prove them wrong and shut them all up. For now, the boy just ignored it, continuing on his way through the hostile and sadistic environment beside Nyra.

Finally, Arthur and Nyra's walk led them to a slightly larger structure, looking like a more robust house, but still precarious. Nyra rang a makeshift doorbell and waited a moment.

A young woman, about 27 years old, answered, sticking only half of her face out the door. She wore tattered clothes and had long, tangled hair, with long bangs that almost completely covered her face.

"Who are you and what do you want here?" the voice asked, irritated and harsh.

"It's me, Nyra. I need your help, sister," Nyra replied, her voice filled with fear and melancholy.

The young woman immediately opened the door completely, her expression of surprise quickly turning to icy contempt.

"Seriously? Get out of here, now!" she shouted, starting to slam the door shut.

Nyra, however, acted quickly, blocking the door with her foot.

"I'm serious, please, I'm begging you! I need you to shelter him," she said, pointing to Arthur, who stood just behind her, watching the scene in silence.

The young woman took a step forward, observing Arthur, who smiled timidamente.

"Nyra…" she replied, muttering with anger. "You come here after all this time and ask me to shelter a banished hero?" the young woman said, her voice irritated.

"Look at him. If you don't help him, he won't last a week here," Nyra said, holding the young woman's hand.

The young woman looked at the boy again, thinking about what decision to make.

"Please, sister. He's different. I-I don't know why, but I feel like something is changing. A fourth hero has never been recorded before."

The surprised young woman exclaimed:

"He's the fourth hero?" she asked, perplexed by the new information.

Nyra nodded. The news that Arthur was the fourth hero hadn't completely spread yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.