Infinite Damage Absorption: I Pay The Price In Pain

A month and a half after his battle with the cultists, Silas sat in the corner of the Drunken Dragon tavern, nursing a mug of watered-down ale. 

His body still ached from the ordeal he'd endured, phantom pains ghosting through his limbs at random intervals.

"To Kevin the Mighty!" a patron shouted, raising his tankard. The tavern erupted in cheers.

Silas gritted his teeth, suppressing a groan. That bastard had stolen his credit.

For weeks, it had been nothing but "Kevin the Mighty" this and "Kevin the Mighty" that. The so-called hero who had supposedly stormed the cultists' hideout, rescued hostages, and made off with a fortune in gold.

"Why didn't I search that damn hideout?!" Silas muttered into his drink. "I'm so stupid!"

He thought back to the excruciating month and a half he'd spent in his rented room, writhing in agony as his body experienced the delayed effects of every injury he'd sustained during the fight. 

It had been hell, pure and simple.

"I heard Kevin the Mighty fought off a dozen cultists at once!" a wide-eyed farmer exclaimed at a nearby table. "They say he moved like lightning, his sword a blur of righteous fury!"

Silas snorted. He remembered the reality of that fight - desperately dodging spell after spell, feeling the impacts that would later translate into mind-numbing pain. There had been nothing graceful or heroic about it.

"And then," a merchant chimed in, "he found the poor hostages and freed them with his bare hands! Tore their chains apart like they were made of parchment!"

Another wave of anguish washed over Silas, a vivid reminder of the magical blast that had sent him crashing into the cave wall. 

He'd felt that the force of the impact would definitely translate into the feeling of rib-cracking pain, but ten times worse! When it finally hit him, it had felt like his entire torso was being crushed in a vice.

"Don't forget the treasure!" someone else called out. "Enough gold to buy a mansion in the Capital, they say!"

The treasure, as Silas had heard, was beyond abundant. 

After listening to the hostages' testimonies and witnessing the overwhelming gratitude of everyone towards Kevin for his hard work, no one had spoken out against him keeping all of it.

He'd moved to the Capital city and now owned a lavish house with numerous servants. "It's exactly what a hero like him deserves," all the villagers cheered approvingly.

Silas downed the rest of his ale in one bitter gulp. He thought of his meagre savings, barely enough to cover another month's rent. 

All that pain, all that sacrifice, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing but aching bones and a growing sense of resentment.

As the tavern continued to sing Kevin the Mighty's praises, a hooded figure slipped through the crowd and took a seat next to Silas. He paid them no mind until a soft, feminine voice spoke up.

"You're the one they should be toasting, you know."

Silas turned, eyebrow raised, to find a woman watching him intently. Her face was mostly hidden by her hood, but he could make out sharp, intelligent eyes and a knowing smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Silas grumbled, signalling the bartender for another drink.

The woman leaned in closer. "Oh, I think you do... Unbreakable Hero."

Silas stiffened. "What are you talking about? Where did you hear that name?"

"From a cultist who escaped your little rampage," she replied, her smirk widening. "After I beat the information out of him, of course."

Silas sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "What do you want?"

"Your help," she said simply. "I know you were the one who really defeated the cultists. The fact that you're letting someone else take the credit is admirable. You're a true hero."

"Admirable," Silas repeated with a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's me. I'm a paragon of virtue."

The woman's expression softened slightly. "That's why I came to you. I need someone with your strength and moral character. You see, my sister has been taken by a dark wizard in the neighbouring county. I need your help to rescue her."

Silas stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Forget it, lady!"

He stormed out of the tavern, ignoring the curious looks from the other patrons. He heard quick footsteps behind him as he stepped into the cool night air.

"Wait!" the woman called, catching up to him. "Please, just hear me out!"

Silas whirled around, his frustration boiling over. "Look, I don't know who you are or how you found out about me, but I'm done. You hear me? Done! I'm not some hero for hire. I'm just a guy who wants to live a normal, pain-free life. Is that too much to ask?"

The woman's hood had fallen back, revealing a face etched with worry and desperation. "I understand you've been through a lot, but-"

"No, you don't understand," Silas cut her off. "You have no idea what it's like. Do you know what I've been doing for the past month and a half? Screaming. Crying. Begging for death. Every injury, every hit, every magical blast -"

"Oh, I see!" the woman interjected, her eyes widening with misplaced admiration. "You've been on other heroic quests, haven't you? Battling monsters, saving villages, enduring trials that would break lesser men. Your dedication to helping others, even at such great personal cost, is truly inspiring. You're even more remarkable than I thought!"

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry about your sister, really. But I can't help you. I won't. Find someone else to play hero."

As Silas turned to leave, the woman reached out and grabbed his arm. "Please," she said softly. "You're my only hope. I can pay you, and-"

"I said no!" Silas snapped, pulling his arm free. "Go bother Kevin the Mighty if you need a hero so badly. I hear he has an expensive mansion in the capital, you can't miss it, it's one of the biggest houses in the Upper District."

With that, Silas stalked off into the night, leaving the woman standing alone in front of the tavern. 

As he walked, he tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that sounded suspiciously like the kind apothecary lady who had taken him in all those years ago.

"Stupid conscience," he muttered, kicking at a loose stone on the road. "Stupid magical world. Stupid everything."

But even as he complained, Silas knew he wouldn't be able to simply walk away. Not when someone needed help. Not when he had the ability to make a difference, no matter how much it might cost him.

He paused, looking up at the star-filled sky with a resigned sigh. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Silas turned around and began walking back toward the tavern, already dreading the adventure that lay ahead.