"Hero. Please Draw the Holy Sword and Save This World."

"Hero. Please draw the Holy Sword and save this world."

I received the mission to save the world. I accepted it because I wanted to protect my family and neighbors. I had never fought before, never even learned the sword.

But I believed the priest who told me I could save ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the world, and I threw myself into the task with everything I had.

"You have talent, Hero."

And I did have talent.

"I'm an apprentice holy knight from our order. From now on, I'll be your sparring partner."

With barely a month's worth of sword training, I defeated the apprentice holy knight in a duel.

"You created Sword Aura? Haha, you're quite the joker. Wait, what? How... already...?"

Less than a year after picking up the sword, I had mastered Sword Aura.

"As expected, there's a reason the goddess chose you as Hero."

A genius beyond any hero in the history books. Every priest praised my talent. They blessed the advent of a great hero. They sang of the merciful wisdom of the benevolent goddess.

"I can save the world."

I believed in my own talent, too. I thought I could save everyone with it.

"Grrr."

"H-Huh?! B-Blood... Hic...!"

It was all a delusion.

My sword talent wasn't for slaughter. In front of a living, breathing creature, my blade could go no further.

"...I can't kill it."

It was a goblin. A little green-skinned runt. A frail monster any ordinary farmer could bash to death with a club. Just that kind of monster.

But I couldn't kill it in the end. My sharp swordsmanship, which no knight in the order could match, turned into a dull, fragile twig the moment it faced soft hide.

I had no talent. I couldn't save the world.

"I understand. You're still young, Hero, and you've never seen a battlefield. Why not travel with excellent companions first and gain experience bit by bit?"

"...I'm sorry."

And so I set out on my journey. I met the order's Saintess, the Mage from the Magic Tower, the elf from the Great Forest... All sorts of companions.

They were all kind, good-hearted, and capable. No one blamed me. They never scolded the Hero who froze up every time a battle broke out, the coward.

They always silently handled the monsters in my place.

"It's okay, Hero. Supporting you is our role."

"You sure you're the Hero? What kind of Hero's scared of a goblin? Sigh. Just sit this one out. I'll handle it. A few Fireballs oughta do it."

"Stay out of the way, human Hero. You're in the way."

They were all great companions. Too good for a coward like me, really.

"God... why did you choose someone like me to be the Hero?"

I never should have become the Hero. I should have abandoned the mission. I never should have drawn the Holy Sword.

"..."

Just as I was about to give up on everything—

"Hello, Hero."

"...Who are you?"

"Need a capable porter by any chance?"

A porter came looking for me.

He was a strange guy. It wasn't all that rare for civilians to volunteer as porters and beg to join the Hero Party. We had a reputation, after all. Some sought wealth and fame, others wanted their names in the history books, and some just wanted to use us for political gain. I didn't bother stopping them. We needed a porter at the time anyway, and I figured he'd bail soon enough. A Hero's journey is no picnic. Especially for a party saddled with a deadweight Hero like me.

Even if he could endure it, he'd get disillusioned with a Hero who couldn't even kill a goblin and leave soon enough.

"It's an adaptation of elven traditional cuisine using local ingredients. No animal products at all, so eat up."

"...Not bad for human cooking."

"Mage, I found this book at that old bookstore. Thought it might interest you."

"Y-You! Where did you find this?!"

"Saintess, I thought you might need this... so I brought it."

"Ugh. Th-Thank you, brother."

But the porter didn't leave. If anything, he integrated into the party suspiciously fast. The elf who hated humans, the Saintess wary of men, the Mage who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kept her distance from everyone—they all warmed up to him quick. Bickering like old friends.

He seemed closer to the others than I, the Hero, was.

"Am I the only useless one in this party?"

It was miserable. Even worse than the porter who couldn't fight—I wasn't helping my companions at all. He carried their loads for them, but I, the Hero, was nothing but a burden weighing them down.

"Hero, mind if I come into your room for a sec?"

"Tch. What is it?"

So I got jealous of the porter. No, I hated him. I cursed his competence. I resented him for worming his way into the Hero Party without even knowing how to fight. If only he'd been a valiant warrior, an honorable knight, a wise shaman—then I wouldn't feel this pathetic.

"Heard you turned eighteen this year. Brought some booze."

"...Booze? At this hour?"

"Haha. A bit late, yeah?"

"What about the others...?"

"Saintess doesn't drink per doctrine, Illina only does elven traditional liquor, and Mage just doesn't like it. Gotta keep a clear head for magic, y'know."

"So just the two of us, then?"

"Yeah. Feelin' a bit awkward? I can take it back if you want."

"...Nah. Let's drink."

So when the porter brought booze in the dead of night, I accepted without refusing. I knew what it meant for a man and woman to drink alone at night. If he tried anything, I'd use it as an excuse to kick him out. Honestly, I kinda wanted to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠get a little drunk anyway.

"Porter! I hate you!"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you join the Hero Party and make me feel this pathetic?!"

I got way drunker than expected, so my plan went to hell. It was my first time properly drinking, after all. I had no idea my tolerance.

Looks like I got no talent for booze either.

"Uh. Um. Sorry?"

"Yeah! Apologize to me!"

Screaming my insecurities out loud—looking back, it was pathetic and embarrassing.

"I wanna fight properly too! I wanted to be a good companion... not a disgrace...!"

"You're already a good companion, Hero."

"Don't bullshit me! I know I'm trash. This coward... can't even kill a goblin properly...!"

I raged alone, sobbed alone, poured out every bottled-up thought on the porter. It was so pathetic I hated myself more. To vent that self-loathing, I objectively criticized myself. Hating that, I lashed out at the innocent porter again.

And the porter just quietly took it all.

"Hero."

"..."

"You've been through a lot."

"Casual speech...?"

"Must've been tough. Fate decided willy-nilly 'cause of some mission, training with knights at your young age, saddled with everyone's lives on your shoulders."

"...What do you know—"

"I know. I'm the guy who carries your load."

He wasn't just saying it. He always acted like he knew everything about us. About the Mage, the elf, the Saintess—he was never wrong. Always did exactly what was needed.

So he had to be right about me too.

"I know how hard you train every day. Swinging that sword till the training gloves wear out. Clutching your rosary praying for courage, asking the Mage about courage potions."

"How'd you...?"

"I saw your stuff. Your gloves, rosary, notebook—I manage it all. I know how many times you gripped the Holy Sword... and let go."

"..."

Honestly, watching that closely felt a bit pervy. Pretty sure I couldn't speak 'cause I was embarrassed. The booze was wearing off a little.

"Hero. You're a good person. Not just anyone tries that hard for others."

"'Cause I'm the Hero...!"

"That's not your load. You took on someone else's."

"..."

"Saving the world, protecting lives, defeating the Demon King—none of that's yours. Even if you fail, no one can blame you. The world dumped that on you. Hell, even if you fail, you deserve thanks. Gratitude."

Thanks to the booze clearing up more, I remember every word the porter said that night crystal clear.

"So for now, hand the load to us. It's ours ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to begin with."

His earnest comfort embarrassed me somehow, so I took a sip to cover it.

"Thanks, Hero."

I remember the booze being sweet.