I Just Wanted a Peaceful Life… So Why Do Heroes Worship Me?

Ferren had not left.

Not after two days.

Not after Ellyn had gently asked if he needed directions home.

Not after Kreg "accidentally" spilled stew on his diagrams.

Not even after Fluff had begun sleeping on his notes.

"This is all part of the research process," Ferren declared while trying to levitate a potted herb using only fumes from enchanted tea. The plant promptly exploded.

Auron coughed through the smoke. "This is going to be one of those weeks, isn't it?"

Lynna groaned and walked away muttering something about throwing someone into the pond.

Rei, of course, said nothing.

Because Rei rarely needed to say anything.

And yet, beneath the routine chaos, something else stirred. Not external. Not loud. Something older, quieter, and very, very patient.

The weeds had begun to grow faster than usual.

Not much faster. Just… oddly. The grass curled against the grain, twisting toward shadows. The vines on the east trellis bloomed out of season. The river moss turned a shade darker than it should have.

Most wouldn't notice.

But this was Rei's sanctuary.

And Rei noticed everything.

—

"You've been staring at that rock for fifteen minutes," Ellyn said as she approached.

Rei nodded, not taking his eyes off the stone in question.

"Is it cursed?"

"No."

"Possessed?"

"No."

"Then what's wrong?"

"It moved."

She blinked. "...It's a rock."

"I know."

She waited. When he didn't elaborate, she sighed. "I'll get the chalk."

By afternoon, half the sanctuary was under passive analysis wards. Ellyn checked the soil. Auron studied flow harmonics. Even Ferren was roped in—mostly to keep him from blowing something up out of boredom.

Lynna kept watch by the gate, sword across her knees, trying not to look concerned.

Which meant she was very concerned.

And then, as the sun dipped low…

A vine shifted.

It slithered.

Not wrapped.

Not curled.

Slithered.

Auron yelled. "Did you see that?!"

"I saw it," Rei replied calmly, already moving.

The vines twisted into shapes—mock runes, false glyphs. They moved like thoughts with no mind. Not dangerous. Yet.

But they weren't natural.

Not anymore.

Ellyn whispered, "These aren't part of the sanctuary's living grid. These are… invaders."

"Like parasites?" Kreg asked.

"No," Rei said. "Like scouts."

That night, the sanctuary's boundary lines hummed louder.

Not unstable. Just... watching.

Waiting.

And in the morning, it arrived.

—

The beast looked like a tree at first.

Taller than the gate, bark-textured limbs, glowing green along its spine like fireflies embedded in wood. But it moved with purpose. With thought.

Ferren, of course, tried to pet it.

It roared, and the garden shook.

Lynna stepped in front of him and drew her blade. "Go inside. Now."

"But—"

"Now!"

The beast didn't attack.

It stood at the edge of the sanctuary, staring past them.

At Rei.

And Rei simply walked forward.

No weapons.

No spells.

Just presence.

The beast's roar faded into silence.

"You're not here to fight," Rei said softly.

The beast tilted its head. Bark cracked like old joints.

Rei stepped closer.

"You're not part of this sanctuary. But you were called here."

The beast said nothing.

Rei closed his eyes, extended one hand—not a command, not even a request. Just presence.

The sanctuary responded.

Vines retreated.

The moss faded back to normal.

And the beast took a step forward.

Then bowed.

A deep, slow bow.

And then vanished.

Just vanished.

Everyone stared.

Ferren finally exhaled. "That was... wow. That was a recorded entity! A Mosswood Sentinel! Those haven't appeared in three centuries!"

Rei nodded.

"You—what did you do to make it submit like that?"

Rei walked back toward the porch and replied, "I acknowledged it."

Ellyn laughed softly. "That's how you do everything, isn't it?"

Kreg passed out bread. "Even the weeds respect him now."

But Rei was already thinking. Because the Sentinel hadn't just been curious. It had been sent. And not by the usual forces.

"Something is testing the sanctuary," he said aloud.

Lynna frowned. "Like who?"

Ferren raised a hand. "Could be a realm-breach ripple. Or a divine echo. Or a geomantic rebound—"

"No," Rei interrupted. "It's personal."

That quieted everyone.

Rei rarely said things were personal.

Not unless they were.

—

That evening, Zephyr sat under the tree with Auron. The stormbeast had grown even quieter, but his eyes tracked movement none of the others could see. Static danced across his fur.

Lynna leaned against a post, arms crossed. "So, what now?"

"We wait," Rei said.

"For what?"

"For the next ripple."

Ferren appeared holding a crude antenna made from silverware and tea leaves. "I'll track it!"

"You'll explode," Ellyn muttered.

But Rei allowed it.

Because sometimes chaos was a better alarm than any ward.

—

Three days passed.

Peace returned.

Ferren didn't explode, but he did manage to enchant a broom to chase him. Auron finally got a full night's sleep. Lynna stopped glaring quite so often.

And then the ripple came.

A traveler.

Not a fighter.

A woman in a red cloak, barefoot, with bells sewn into her sleeves and a notebook full of drawings.

"I had a dream," she said, standing at the gate.

Rei opened it.

The others watched cautiously.

"I dreamed of a place with strange vines and calm people. A man who made storms kneel."

Ferren whispered, "You too?"

She looked at Rei.

And smiled.

"I think I'm supposed to be here."

Rei studied her.

Then stepped aside.

And let her in.