31. Spilling the Story of the Unkilled Hero (1)
31. Spilling the Story of the Unkilled Hero (1)
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
A train of wagons made its leisurely way along a forest path.
The journey proceeded in remarkable silence, and creeping boredom soon began to replace the initial excitement.
"Hyosung, if you don't mind, would you finish telling me yesterday's story?"
Well, in this sort of situation, getting lost in idle chatter with your companions was only natural.
"Yesterday's story?"
"I'm someone who collects stories, after all. The one about the hero I heard yesterday in particular isn't something you hear every day, so I've been curious... I thought it'd be good to hear it while I have the chance."
Ah, the hero story from yesterday.
It hadn't exactly been cheerful, but even so, she'd taken in every last word without brushing it off.
After all, for someone whose profession is gathering stories, you can't afford to be picky about the kind you handle.
"Ah, well, I don't mind telling you, but it probably won't be fun enough to kill the boredom. As you saw yesterday, Miss Marilyn, heroes aren't always the righteous types their title suggests."
"That does seem to be true... but still, you've met many heroes, Hyosung. Wasn't there a single one you got along with?"
"...Hmm, a hero I actually got along with."
I rested my chin on my hand and let my thoughts drift for a moment, trying to recall the heroes I'd encountered, one after another.
A female knight who picked a fight she didn't need and got her skull cracked by a Demon King's Army executive, a mage who was supposed to be rear guard but charged ahead and had her limbs severed by tentacles, a sniper with raging misandry who fell under a vampire's charm and got torn to pieces... the list went on.
Looking back, they were all victims of their own making—nothing to feel sorry for. But to say every hero I'd met was that kind of trash wouldn't be true.
"I think there were about three. If we're talking about ones I got along with reasonably well."
Only three out of the dozens I'd crossed paths with in two years.
Most people would call that a pitifully low success rate, but the truth is, heroes start getting gaslit by the powerful groups that sponsor them the moment they're summoned.
In a system where they're practically destined to turn into arrogant scum, managing to meet three who still acted like decent human beings was honestly pretty lucky.
"Heh heh, heroes who survived someone known as the Hero Killer... I'm curious what kind of people they were."
"...Miss Marilyn. I told you yesterday that's a misunderstanding."
You saw enough in the training ground yesterday to know I don't have that kind of ability.
I let the teasing slide with a light grumble, then soon started sifting through my memories of the first person who came to mind among those three.
"Let's see, the first one I'd introduce..."
It had been a long time since I'd met him, but recalling him wasn't hard.
Because in a world overflowing with eccentrics, this guy was considered one of the biggest oddballs around.
"He always wore a paper bag over his head."
"...A paper bag?"
"Yeah. He went around with his whole head hidden by a bag that only had holes cut out for his eyes."
Normally you'd think he was insane.
No matter how strong heroes are, the places they go are literally death traps. For someone to pick a paper bag instead of a helmet to protect such a vital point... wasn't that practically volunteering for the same fate as all those dead heroes?
"But what really stood out was his outfit."
"Outfit? Aside from the bag, did he wear something unusual?"
"No, he wore nothing at all."
"...What?"
"So, um..."
My words trailed off for a moment.
The person I'd faced back then was so absurd that even now, over two years later, I still found him unbelievable.
"He walked around in nothing but the paper bag and his underwear. The only weapon he carried was a wooden club."
In a world where even heroes can drop dead the moment they let their guard down, he roamed this brutal world without armor, not even properly dressed, let alone equipped.
There couldn't possibly be more than one lunatic like that, right?
"...Why did he go around like that?"
"Can't say I know. After he hired me, he never said a single word."
"A single... word?"
"Yeah, even at our first meeting he just tossed a contract at me, and after that, if he needed something he'd just point or gesture."
Since I'd survived by reading the room all my life, communication wasn't an issue. And despite being so tight-lipped, he'd occasionally pull silly pranks or tricks, so he wasn't completely humorless.
But being such a weirdo, there were a few behaviors that really stuck in my memory. One was that at dawn or whenever he was outside and saw the sun, he'd stretch both arms out diagonally... like he was standing in a cross pose.
He'd stay like that for a while, as if doing photosynthesis...
Well, religious people pray; it must have been some kind of personal routine he'd set for himself.
"There are plenty of other bizarre antics, but the most unique was definitely when he fought."
"When he fought... Ah! He must have been strong, since he's a hero, right?"
"No, he was weak."
"Huh? Weak?"
"Literally the weakest hero I've ever met. Probably a lot weaker than I am now."
That was only natural.
I mean, his armor amounted to a paper bag and a pair of underpants, and the only thing he had to call a weapon was a wooden club.
With no visible special ability to lean on, he could be called the weakest among all current adventurers without exaggeration.
"But I still hear rumors from time to time. Despite being so weak, unlike other heroes, he's still alive and actively working as a hero to this day."
"If he's been active, that means he hasn't just hidden away in some safe place. How on earth does he pull that off?"
"Nothing special. He just dodges every attack aimed at him."
"Huh? Dodges?"
"Exactly. His approach was: no matter how strong the attack, if you don't get hit, you win."
Yeah, his combat was incredibly simple.
Face an enemy, and dodge all of its attacks.
Whether sidestepping or rolling on the ground, he would avoid the attack and look for an opening to strike.
It's not as easy as it sounds, but he demonstrated such outrageous evasive skill that it was like he could see where every attack was coming from in advance.
And he did it all without any magic tool or charm to aid his evasion—just his body, lightened by not wearing armor.
"Once he dodged all the attacks, he'd swing his club to deal damage, and if the enemy took even a tiny scratch, the whole party would declare victory for the hero."
"Why? Did his weapon have some special effect?"
"No, like I said, it was just an ordinary wooden club. But if he could land even a little damage with that club, he was confident he could beat the enemy down without ever being touched."
He'd sometimes apply holy water when facing undead or start a fire against vampires, but that was only when physical attacks alone weren't enough to handle the enemy.
He had such unthinkable skill and nerve that he survived every time despite those outrageous tactics.
"How good was his evasion? When he was surrounded by undead archers, he dodged every single arrow aimed at him by dancing."
"Dancing... to dodge arrows?"
"I mean, he clasped his hands behind his head and shook his hips like this..."
If a dancer had done it, it might've oozed sex appeal, but at the time it was a nearly naked man in nothing but his underpants dancing.
Looking back, the visual is something else, but back then I was too stunned by him dodging all those arrows like that to even care.
And needless to say, afterward he went and found every single one of those archers and thoroughly bashed their heads in...
"But the most spectacular thing I ever saw was when he took on a drake that attacked a village."
"A drake? Aren't those pretty ferocious demon beasts?"
"If you go by the feel, it's comparable to the dragons you hear about in legends. Its breath alone could sweep away everything around it, but the hero walked right up to that monster like it was nothing."
"In his bare body with no armor?"
"Yeah. And then the drake blasted its breath straight at the hero standing there boldly..."
-Gulp.
Marilyn swallowed.
As if totally absorbed by the escalating story, she placed both hands over her chest and cautiously asked.
"It breathed at him, so what did he do? Did he block it?"
"No, he didn't block it. He lay down and dodged."
"...Lay down?"
"Yeah. While everyone else was panicking and scrambling to run from the breath, the hero just faced it head-on and then lay right down to avoid it."
When it comes to breath attacks from giant monsters, you can't even guard properly, so the only thing a normal human can do is find cover.
In fact, there was this one hero who kept shoving pineapple pizza down my throat for giggles, and when a wyvern's breath came, she couldn't block it. She screamed louder than anyone, 'Dodge the breath! Get to the corner!!!!!!' and then melted to death.
But that guy? It was like he'd read the breath's trajectory from the start. He sidestepped out of its path and then flung himself down like it was his own living room, dodging the whole thing...
"And after that, it was just a one-sided beatdown. I found out later that a drake's weak point is the top of its head—if you keep hitting that, you can kill it even with a wooden club."
"U-Uhm."
Marilyn blinked at the astonishing tale.
She always kept her eyes closed, so I couldn't tell for sure if she was blinking, but she probably was.
Even she, who had traveled the world, had likely never heard a story about an eccentric like this.
"Is that realistically possible?"
"Haha, impossible for an ordinary person."
I understood that sentiment well.
After all, not even demons, undead, beastkin with superhuman senses, or vampires would easily try such an absurd stunt with only one life to lose.
But what I saw with my own eyes was definitely real, and that fact is the very foundation of what the people of this world yearn for.
"Heroes are the ones who make things like that possible. That's why the empire's leaders are so obsessed with summoning heroes."
Magic, faith, monsters, supernatural phenomena...
Even in this world where such fantasies become reality, the power awakened by those who cross dimensions is a variable that surpasses all of it.
That's why the people of this world look to heroes as hope. Those in power try to sponsor heroes and attach their achievements to themselves, seeking the leadership to guide everyone.
And because of that world, heroes become even more arrogant. Especially because so many others who don't receive those privileges are summoned to this world and end up as lowly Foreign Workers.
"...Well, not everyone gets privileges like that."
Yeah, I was one of those Foreign Workers who made the heroes shine.
One for whom even survival was a struggle, with next to no chance of pursuing anything greater.
A meager existence: if an adventurer hadn't foreseen my future, I might have been fated to die on this very mission.
"Hyosung, are you all right?"
"Sorry, ending a story meant to be funny on a note like that."
Just as I was forcing a smile to keep my feelings about that reality from showing, the wagon came to a halt with a clatter.
The caravan leader at the front shouted to the adventurers riding in the wagons.
"Hey, you greenhorns! We're at the village, so get down and help unload!"
"What, it's bad enough we're stuck in the cargo hold, and now you want us to help with your trading business?"
"Then don't eat if you don't want to! And just in case you didn't know, if you don't ride the wagon, it's a solid three days on foot to the garrison!"
So this was just the tail end of some trading before we head to the garrison.
Well, as a bottom-rung grunt, I'd just have to grit my teeth and deal with it. With that thought, I got to my feet and, before getting to work, turned to glance at Marilyn.
She was still standing there, as if pitying me.
"Looks like I have to put in a little labor before we eat. If you don't mind, could you sing us a working song?"
Without needing any direct words of comfort, I made it clear that just having her offer what she could would be solace enough.
We've already met, and I regard that meeting as an opportunity.
So, I figure, why not take advantage of it and enjoy a simple luxury that her own hands can provide?
"...Yes, if my meager talents can be of any use, I'd be happy to."
As if answering that hope, her fingers soon began to pluck the strings of the lute she carried.
-Twing~♬
A melody that called forth a clear, pure hue.
Heralding that it would wash away the weariness of the labor ahead.