Justice's Fatal Irony
"It's the usual WWE."
"Somehow... she's weaker than I expected."
"Huh?"
"The Hero of Justice. Since the Duke was so wary of her, I thought she must be incredibly strong. But she doesn't seem as powerful as I imagined, which is puzzling."
"Ah. She is strong. But only when facing 'evil.' Despite appearances, she could crush someone like the Great Witch Priscilla with a flick of her finger."
"The difference is that extreme depending on the opponent?"
"That's the precept."
The Hero of Justice is strong. That's because her duty is to judge evildoers.
Judgment is a one-sided act. To judge someone else by your own standards of justice—to trample their dignity and will—requires overwhelming power.
Thus, the hero swears an oath to the gods. She binds herself with strict precepts to receive power greater than any other.
Those precepts generally went something like this.
[I shall not hesitate to punish evil, even if it leads to my death.]
[I shall not oppress or persecute the weak with force.]
[I shall not wield power for personal grudges or self-interest.]
The Scales grant power in exchange for what you've already lost. In contrast, Justice grants power in exchange for vows about the future.
If the Scales are like an insurance company, Justice is like a loan shark. The collateral is your own honor. The moment you lose it, all your power is forcibly seized.
"Zara is the hero's natural counter. She's the most innocent sacrificial lamb in this world."
"Ironic. The most wickedly born being in this world is also the most innocent person."
"And heroes are the world's biggest nuisances."
This worldview is broken in many ways, but the Hero of Justice is especially irredeemable. Nine times out of ten, when a doomsday button gets pressed somewhere, these guys are the culprits. They pop up out of nowhere in the most unexpected places, causing all sorts of trouble. And you can't just kill them off casually. Going down the 'Hero Slayer' route skyrockets your evil alignment, and high evil alignment means you get wrecked by heroes.
"At least there are fewer of them than other heroes? Most Heroes of Justice break their vows and get defrocked within a month."
"Don't they set the content of their own vows?"
"Not everyone can keep their own word."
When they first swear under a god's name, hero candidates—burning with passion—think simply:
— 'This world is unfair. Bad people wander free without proper punishment.'
— 'Criminals deserve to die.'
— 'Letting perpetrators escape true punishment inflicts double pain on the victims.'
Hero candidates never doubt their own thoughts. After all, who wouldn't nod in agreement? It's righteous. Perpetrators must face proper punishment—for the world's sake, the victims', the bereaved's. That's true 'justice.'
So, hero candidates recklessly swear vows they can't handle. I will kill all murderers. I will kill parents who abuse children, teachers who rape students, witches who eat people, lords who whip serfs to death. Grant me the power to kill them.
They swear this with naive faith that killing all bad people will make the world better.
"If it were that easy, a family like the assassin nobles Nosferatu wouldn't exist."
This world endures as much from a few good people's pure goodwill as from a few vicious people's horrific malice.
And usually, those two are the same people.
"A hero who kills abusive parents to save a child is the first to face that child's resentment. Hero work isn't for humans."
Sometimes the abused child throws themselves to protect their parents. Sometimes the man who brutally rapes a young girl runs an orphanage as a volunteer. Killing the 'evil' lord who exploits serfs hurts the serfs the most.
'Justice' is just a nuisance. The word is only permissible when griping over cheap ale in a tavern. The moment you grasp and swing it, 'justice' becomes the most horrific violence.
"Usually, those who become Heroes of Justice start out the most righteous and kind. They can't endure becoming the perpetrator themselves."
Thus, active Heroes of Justice fall into two categories: greenhorns fresh off their oaths...
...or dogmatic, blind zealots who refuse to abandon justice despite all the havoc.
"Let's see what this Dandelion is made of."
Their fight looked like a choreographed action stunt.
They swung swords at each other, but neither aimed to kill or wound. Blades clashed in midair and parted. Just before a blade could slice skin—
That razor-thin distance where only peach fuzz was severed was the limit of their sword control.
"Auntie, you're pretty weak!"
"I'm just holding back. I have no intention of hurting you. I only want to kill that man."
"We're both holding back, aren't we?"
And Zara was more skilled at this WWE than anyone.
After all, she'd spent her life trying not to kill people!
"You can't beat me, auntie. I'm lucky. And even more skilled."
"Pointless. A waste of time."
So their battle resembled childish bickering more than fierce combat.
Clang!
Each sword clash intertwined their voices.
"I won't go easy just 'cause you're an old, sickly auntie. Heh heh."
"...Are you mocking me? If you're trying to provoke me, it's futile. I'll subdue you and kill that man. Without harming you."
"I just said what I saw. Did it feel like mockery?"
Zara mocked the hero.
For the first time since birth, she insulted someone with no grudge against her.
It was surprisingly fun.
Born wicked, Zara smiled brightly.
The line between good and evil was so thin.
Zara was no longer innocent. No longer blameless. No longer pure.
Clang!
The hero's strikes grew fiercer. Zara's matched in savagery.
The Heavenly Murder Star in the sky smirked crookedly.
"I don't understand. Why go so far for someone who tried to kill you? Don't you resent him?"
"I do resent him. But 'he tried to kill me, so I'll kill him'—isn't that childish?"
Clang!
As time passed, their exchanges intensified. The hero's sword grew mighty; Zara's ferocious.
No wounds yet, but the hero's arms trembled from impact, and sweat poured from Zara's brow like rain.
In fighting terms—it shifted from WWE to UFC.
"Evil deeds demand fitting retribution. That is justice."
"Instead of worrying about others' sins, how about reflecting on yourself? That's how you become better!"
As long as the hero fought for 'justice,' anything blocking her—Zara—was 'evil' to her.
Clang!
Their blades met, shoving Zara back a full step.
Their swords were equally fierce, but...
The longer it dragged, the worse for Zara. Her talent was for killing people, after all.
A kind sword that refused to kill couldn't beat the hero.
Yet despite being pushed back, Zara smiled.
"I hate this world. I resent it. Tomorrow is misfortune for me; the world is a space of misery. It never once went my way. Just when I finally resolved to defy fate, some weird auntie shows up, rampaging to kill the jerk tormenting me! My choices mean nothing. Even if I stop you here, another hero will appear, or the jerk dies in an accident!"
"..."
"But that doesn't mean I should give up choosing. Only after choosing for myself can I righteously scream 'Fucking Asshole!' at the world."
If tomorrow was fated to be more miserable than today.
If every choice led only to horrific endings.
If her power couldn't change a thing.
At least, she had to make the choice herself.
That was living with pride.
"This ends it."
The hero swung wide.
Zara had no strength left to parry.
Now, she'd drop her sword.
The man would die.
That was 'fate.'
And then.
"...Huh?"
"Guh! Heh hek, heh heh, that hurts... You said you wouldn't hurt me... Liar...!"
The hero's vision warped ever so slightly.
And Zara was cut by the sword.
"What... How...?"
The hero's precept shattered.
She'd broken her own vow.
Dandelion felt power drain from her body.
Gazing at the flustered hero,
Zara clutched her bleeding belly and grinned heh heh.
"Ehehe... That's what I told you... You're too weak, auntie... Impossible...!"
The hero.
Had lost to Zara!