The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?-Chapter 135: Ch134 Welcome, Please Don’t Run

The city did not ignore them.

It watched.

The moment Luther and Elythra crossed the threshold into its heart, the attention became unavoidable. Paths curved inward, terraces descending and rising around them like seats in a vast amphitheater. Elves gathered in clusters—some stepping out from doorways grown from stone and root, others peering down from bridges above.

They stared.

Young elves clung to their parents’ robes, eyes wide and curious. Elders leaned on carved staffs, their gazes heavy with scrutiny. Warriors paused mid-step, hands tightening on weapons they didn’t raise—but didn’t release either.

Luther felt it all.

Not hostility.

Not reverence.

Something worse.

Interest.

"...Okay," he muttered under his breath, hands still raised because no one had told him otherwise. "This is officially too many eyes."

Elythra walked beside him, silent.

Too silent.

Her posture was rigid, spine straight, chin lifted—not in defiance, but in restraint. She hadn’t spoken since they’d entered the city. Her eyes flicked across the surroundings with sharp focus, cataloging everything, yet she seemed oddly distant, like part of her had retreated inward.

Luther leaned slightly toward her. "So... is this the part where they throw flowers or the part where they throw rocks?"

She didn’t respond.

He frowned.

They continued forward.

Whispers followed them like a current.

Luther caught fragments as they passed.

"...human—" "...can’t be—" "...looks like—" "...no, impossible—"

Every now and then, he’d catch someone pointing—subtle, quick, immediately withdrawn when noticed.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"You know," he said quietly, mostly to himself, "I was starting to think this wouldn’t be so bad. New place. Pretty lights. No immediate attempts on my life."

That was when the bar slammed down.

It happened fast.

One second he was mid-step, mentally congratulating himself on surviving yet another impossible situation—

The next—

CLANG.

Cold metal slammed across his face as a reinforced gate dropped from above with brutal finality. The impact jolted his skull back, rattling his teeth and sending a sharp burst of pain through his nose.

"—OW!"

Luther staggered backward instinctively, hands flying up as the sound echoed through stone corridors.

"What the—?!"

He spun around.

Bars.

Thick. Interwoven with glowing runes. Set into stone walls that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

A prison.

"...Oh," he said flatly. "So we’re doing this."

The gate sealed completely with a heavy, echoing lock.

Luther stared at it for a long second.

Then laughed.

A short, incredulous sound.

"Wow," he said. "You know what? I should’ve known. I felt the hospitality drop."

He turned slowly, taking in the cell. The space was wide but unmistakably a holding chamber—smooth stone walls, faintly glowing lines etched into every surface. The air hummed with suppressed magic, the kind designed to discourage bad decisions.

"Let me guess," he continued, pacing a few steps before stopping himself. "This is a ’temporary holding area’ and someone will be along shortly to explain why this is for my own good."

No answer.

"...Hello?" he tried, tapping the bars lightly. "Unfairly imprisoned guest speaking."

Silence.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his face.

"I swear," he muttered, "if this is because I tracked dirt onto sacred ground—"

He stopped.

Something was off.

Elythra was sitting on the floor.

Cross-legged.

Perfectly still.

Her sword was gone. Her hands rested loosely on her knees, palms up. Her eyes were closed.

"...Elythra?" Luther said, irritation ebbing into concern.

She didn’t respond.

He pushed himself upright immediately and moved closer, lowering his voice. "Hey. This isn’t the time to meditate."

Nothing.

Her breathing was slow. Steady. Almost... deep.

Luther crouched in front of her. "Okay, that’s officially unsettling."

He waved a hand in front of her face.

No reaction.

"...You better not be possessed," he muttered. "I am not emotionally prepared for that today."

He glanced at the walls, then back at her.

"Oh," he realized slowly. "You’re doing the whole internal thing. Right. Elves. Magic. Very serene."

He stood again, exhaling sharply.

"Well," he said to the room, "guess it’s just me and my thoughts."

He immediately grimaced.

"That’s never a good sign."

He began pacing again, steps short and restless.

"Okay. Think," he muttered. "We’re in a magical elf prison. The sword is missing. Everyone’s staring at me like I’m a walking historical error. On the bright side—"

He paused.

"...Actually, no. There is no bright side."

He stopped at the bars and tested them gently.

They didn’t budge.

"Great," he sighed. "Magical."

He leaned his forehead lightly against the cool metal.

"Alright. Hypothetically. If I were to escape—purely theoretical—"

Nothing responded.

He straightened, frowning.

"...Sword?" he called.

Silence.

That was new.

He swallowed.

"...I don’t like this," he admitted quietly.

A sound drifted down from above.

Soft.

Mocking.

A snicker.

Luther froze.

Slowly, he looked up.

Dark mist coiled lazily above the cell, gathering like smoke caught in a lazy current. The air warped slightly as something solid pushed through—

A familiar blade emerged, hovering upside down.

The demonic sword shimmered into view, its edge gleaming faintly as it rotated upright.

"Oh," it said cheerfully. "There you are."

Luther stared.

"...You," he said flatly. "Where have you been?"

The sword hummed smugly. "Oh, you know. Taken. Examined. Mildly offended. Then I escaped."

"YOU escaped?" Luther snapped. "I’m in prison!"

"And yet," the sword replied, "you were thinking about escaping. Which is adorable."

It drifted closer, just out of reach.

"I wouldn’t recommend it," it added lightly.

Luther narrowed his eyes. "And why not?"

The sword grinned—somehow.

"Because," it said, voice dropping just enough to carry weight, "this place is very old."

It hovered above Elythra briefly, then returned to face him.

"And they are very interested in you."

Luther exhaled slowly.

"...I hate it here already."

The sword laughed.

"Well... get used to it because you’ve got a lot to learn from here."

Luther frowned.

"Like what?"

"Being stared at like a frozen statue or having magical cell doors slammed in my face."

The sword chuckled.

"Who knows?"

"Maybe something interesting will happen"

Luther frowned.

"You’re crazy!"

"I know"