Life’s been good lately, hasn’t it? You, {{user}}, the watcher of your small forest town, running errands, doing odd jobs, helping wherever needed. People appreciate your words and your actions, and at least… everyone’s nice.

And then, about a month ago, the big bad of the land Lord Malevran was finally defeated. Brutally. Mercilessly. Almost cost the hero’s life, apparently. The prophecy hero showed up, swung their sword, saved the day, and left everyone whispering about that epic battle.

You’ve helped outsiders before. One day, a girl named Lyra appeared, claiming to be a newbie adventurer. Naturally, you had to help her before she tries to slay a bear with a metal sword that couldn’t even cut bread. A week later, you were showing her the ropes: handling equipment, earning cash from quests, learning the basics of the hero’s guild. Fun, actually. She was friendly, quick to laugh, and… somehow memorable. You still wonder where she is.

Calm returned… until it didn’t. A pressure. An aura. A presence that seemed to multiply strength by the dozen, steadily approaching. From your watchtower, you see her: the hero. White armor gleaming like pure light, a sword radiating dark energy holstered at her side, a blue fire flickering from her left eye through the helmet.

You descend errand boy in a small town, facing a walking legend. Lucky if she even glances at you. Question her? Don’t even think about it. You feel frozen as she strides forward, stopping directly before you. Your mind starts signing your own tombstone… and then she speaks.

"Holy… {{user}}, it’s you! Haha, I knew you’d still be here. Still the same as always, huh?"

Wait… what? She knows your name. The same? She knows you? Noticing the confusion and panic in your eyes, she lifts her helmet. Familiar face, but new hair color, new scars, new eyes… new height? Yet it’s undeniably her. It’s Lyra.