The Hero
"Hahh... I'm gonna die."
The fight with the Magic Tower Master had only just ended. Before I could even savor the joy of victory, a groan slipped from my lips as pain hammered through every inch of my body. I'd detonated two types of aura and pushed Flying Sword Technique to its absolute limit — there wasn't a single part of me left intact.
Fighting down the urge to collapse then and there, I trudged toward the Magic Tower Master's corpse.
"Bahamut."
The Grand Magician who had spewed death mana to the bitter end. In the end, his body had been split left from right — Bahamut reduced to Baha and Mut — and he stared wide-eyed in disbelief as crimson blood poured from him.
It wasn't a pretty sight, but I didn't look away. I took in the result of the battle with my own eyes. Fights like this — unexpected clashes against powerful enemies — would probably happen again. There was no telling when, where, or in what form the butterfly effect of my interference in the original story would surface next.
But I'd steeled myself for that long ago. I would keep moving forward without fear. Because I believed this path was the right one. And because I had the strength to see that belief through.
Strength, huh. Come to think of it, I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of realization during that fight...
Just now, while pushing Flying Sword to its limit to bring down those mana bombs, I'd been swinging dozens of sword auras at once when something lodged itself in my mind. How to put it. I hadn't had the luxury to think it through in the middle of combat, but if I tried to sort it out now...
When you swing a sword — or sword aura — thinking about precision and efficiency, you start stripping away everything unnecessary. And after peeling away all those extras, what you arrive at in the end... isn't that the most essential thing of all?
That was the thought that came to me. And the conclusion I reached was this: the most essential thing is the heart.
I know that sounds like complete nonsense out of nowhere, but... aura itself is just mana given form through will, isn't it? In the end, what matters is the will — the state of mind — of the one swinging the blade. And if you hone that heart, that mind, until one day you can swing a sword with nothing but a well-tempered heart itself... that would be the Heart Sword.
"Heart Sword, huh."
Something pretty damn impressive just came out of me. In the original, Luke reached the realm of Grandmaster and used Heart Sword to defeat the final boss. So have I reached Grandmaster now?
No, that's not it. I gained a sliver of insight, but I still have no idea how to actually use Heart Sword. Still, I could feel it clearly — I'd taken a step closer.
I was looking over the wrecked stage, thinking I'd have more to work on during training for a while, when the muffled ringing in my ears faded and the spatial distortion vanished.
The spatial barrier magic's been lifted.
"Lord Behirit!"
"Your Grace!"
"Hubby!"
Three women came running toward me through the crumbling hemisphere. Raphaela, Eustia, and Elda — three beauties, each with a personality all her own. Desperation was written plainly across their faces; they'd been worried sick. Seeing them, the fact that the fight was over finally sank in, and a small smile tugged at my lips.
Wait. Hubby?
Who the hell was she calling that?
I was momentarily speechless. I'd never seen Elda use that title even in the original. I glanced around, wondering if there was someone else nearby, but Elda arrived first, spotted the Magic Tower Master's corpse, and flinched.
"Ah. So it's already over?"
"Mm. It was nothing. Sorry for making you worry over nothing."
"You call beating the Magic Tower Master while hostages were on the line 'nothing'...? More importantly, are you hurt anywhere? Ah! Your nose is bleeding!"
"The nosebleed already stopped. No need to make a fuss over it..."
"Just a moment. Excuse me!"
Whether she'd even heard me or not, Elda wiped the blood from my nose with her own hand. She leaned in close, and I had a clear view of her long eyelashes and the deep valley of her chest.
Well. Not that I'm complaining, but...
Honestly, I had to wonder if we were close enough for her to be doing this. Was she just looking after me because I'd been through hell? I was grateful and a little embarrassed all at once as I let her fuss over me. Then Raphaela and Eustia came up.
"Lord Behirit...! I've committed an unforgivable sin. I should have stopped that mad old man before he pulled his tricks!"
"Your Grace! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, just a bit tired. I've caused Your Highness unnecessary worry. Raphaela, don't dwell on it. I didn't expect the Magic Tower Master to go this far either."
The women crowded in close, inspecting me from every angle. Raphaela was trembling as if she were having an anxiety attack, and Eustia's eyes were glistening — she'd been that worried. I kept telling them I was fine, doing my best to put them at ease.
"Thank goodness... I'm so, so glad..."
Eustia clenched her small fists and whimpered softly.
Ah. She'd been this worried about me. That actually made me really happy...
I was just about to stroke her hair and soothe her when her expression suddenly changed.
"By the way... what exactly did 'Hubby' mean just now? I'd like an explanation from the two of you."
"Uh."
"Mm."
Her tone was frost-cold. Had she cast Ice Age without me noticing? The temperature in the arena felt like it had plummeted. More importantly, why are you asking me too, Eustia? I want to know what's going on just as much as you do.
I looked pointedly at Elda, dumping the explanation on her. She stammered, then slowly opened her mouth.
"U-um. Well... a-actually, among the Northern tribes, there's a custom of calling the man you respect most 'Hubby.' Strange custom, right? Ahaha."
Elda scratched her head, avoiding Eustia's gaze. Did the dictionary definition of "hubby" mean something different among the Northern tribes? At her bizarre explanation, Raphaela and Eustia's eyes narrowed.
Yeah, I don't care. Just let me rest already.
Whether the Northern tribes had some weird custom like that or not, I wanted nothing more than to collapse onto a soft bed right this second. Come to think of it, Lucy had asked me to hold her today. I couldn't exactly do that in this condition. I'd have to put it off for a few days.
"—The spatial magic's completely broken!"
"—Hahh, we're alive!"
"—Oh, Lord Paleth, our god... thank you!"
I was about to leave the stage with the three women when the spectators, who'd finally come back to their senses, erupted into a noisy clamor. Their faces said they couldn't believe they were still alive. Some threw their arms around the people next to them in joy. Others prayed to their gods in gratitude.
All sorts of chatter drifted down from the noisy stands, until one person called out loudly.
"—Wait! Is anyone dead? Anyone hurt?"
"—Doesn't look like it."
"—I can't believe it. Ten thousand people taken hostage by a Grand Magician, and not a single one dead or injured?"
"—This is a miracle..."
"—It's all thanks to His Grace Grand Duke Behirit... no, the hero Licht!"
One spectator shouted it with everything he had, drunk on the joy of being alive.
A hero, huh... I mean, I'm a former final boss and basically a sitting Demon King, for what that's worth.
While I was squirming at the grandiose title, someone in the stands started shouting over the noise of the arena.
"—Licht! Licht!"
The cry carried clearly from the stands all the way to the stage. Was being able to live again that overwhelming for him? His voice, strained to its limit, was soaked in joy and cheers. And that joy, that cheering, spread like wildfire. The chant of my name grew louder and louder, until — a moment later — a roar bigger and more thunderous than anything during the entire Sword and Magic Festival shook the ground itself.
The crowd chanted so loud it felt like the arena would come apart. Feeling awkward, I glanced to the side. The three women were looking at me with gentle smiles.
A hero, huh... It was an embarrassingly grand title, but all the trouble I'd gone through to save these people had been worth it.
Walking through a roar so massive it made my whole body tremble, I suddenly recalled the message that had echoed in my mind when I first awakened my trait. That I'd come to this world to save someone. Maybe that didn't apply only to the heroines. Maybe it applied to everyone else, too.
Of course, the heroines were still my top priority. That went without saying. But looking at them now, smiling at me like this... I'm glad I saved those people. Something like that crossed my mind.
Walking through the cheers with them at my side, I took in two more sights: Luke, who'd apparently finished changing, running toward me — and Albireo, being taken into custody by the Imperial 1st Knight Order. I savored every second of it — the moment a Sword and Magic Festival that had been both short and impossibly long came to a safe end.
A few days after the catastrophe on the final day of the Sword and Magic Festival, in a room on the top floor of the Academy's main building, a woman with hair the color of a clear blue sky and sharp dragon horns traced her fingers over a newspaper on the desk.
"Hmm~"
A little hum, curiosity curling through it. Sky-blue eyes shining bright. And a voluptuous figure on full display through a revealing dress. Endless — Headmaster of the Academy and Guardian Dragon of the Empire — stroked the newspaper with a gentle hand and spoke softly.
"Kayla, dear. You know about what happened at this year's Sword and Magic Festival, don't you?"
"Yes. You're referring to His Highness the Second Prince, Sir Gawain of the Imperial Second Knight Order, and Lord Bahamut, the Magic Tower Master? I still can't quite believe His Highness ended up in the dungeon."
The sharp-looking beauty in glasses answered the blue dragon's question. Endless waved a hand at her reply.
"I feel the same way. But the most important part is the story of our hero, Grand Duke Behirit, don't you think?"
Endless's eyes sparkled, her voice thick with curiosity.
The catastrophe in which Bahamut Wizardros — Magic Tower Master of the Empire, bearer of the title Grand Magician — had taken ten thousand spectators hostage. And the man who had saved every last one of them from that hopeless situation without a single casualty: Behirit Divelion.
In the end, his championship qualification had been stripped, but it was decided that no charges would be brought for entering the festival under a false identity, nor for killing the commander of the Imperial Second Knight Order. Thanks to him, the Academy students competing in the festival — and the lives of imperial citizens — had all been spared. As Headmaster of the Academy and Guardian Dragon of the Empire, this was not something she could simply let pass.
Besides, it's piqued my personal interest, too.
A hero who protected ten thousand hostages from the Magic Tower Master without a single scratch on them. Just how strong would someone have to be to pull that off? Perhaps he could even help her.
Endless gathered her thoughts and rose from her seat.
"Kayla, I think I need to step out for a bit."
"What? You were already away recently — the backlog of work is a mountain as it is. Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going to meet the Grand Duke. I'll be back soon, so I'll leave the work to you!"
"N-no you don't! You could just send someone!"
"Oh my, and when the other party is a Grand Duke, shouldn't I go in person? Well then, I'm off!"
"H-Headmaster!"
Kayla cried out in panic. Having already suffered through the Headmaster's dereliction of duty more times than she could count, she raised her voice in desperation.
"You damn fool of a Headmaster! There's a mountain of work that has to be done today!"
Her cry, never reaching its target, echoed through the room toward the blue dragon's rapidly receding back.