Before Becoming a Hero (1)

I simply wanted to repay him.

All I wanted was to become useful to Isaac, the boy who had saved me. So I swung my sword like a madman—until the veins in my wrist burst and blood flowed freely. Thanks to that, Zeek grew stronger at an astonishing pace.

“That lucky bastard.”

Yet the moment Zeek began to stand out, Isaac slowly started turning away from her. Was it nothing more than envy and jealousy? Or was it wariness? Zeek still hadn’t found the answer to that question.

A whole month had passed. Many things had happened in that time.

First, two ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠new rookies had joined the Iron Shield. Naturally, public opinion wasn’t kind at the start. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dig’s constant grumbling aside, even Hans and Sophia—who had founded the guild alongside Isaac—looked uneasy. Even Las, who deeply respected their master, had shown clear disapproval.

It was only natural. This went against Gideon’s unwritten rules.

Survival of the fittest. The strong devour the weak. Only the victor is righteous. That was the way of Gideon.

Even if clear evil stood before their eyes, if someone declared it justice—and if that person reigned as the strongest in Gideon—then it was no longer evil. It was justice.

And the guild currently ruling Gideon was none other than the Hades Guild.

They had proven their power long ago by defeating Leviathan, the Demon King of the Abyss—one of the Three Great Calamities.

Once Hades claimed dominance over Gideon, the city’s so-called heroes naturally began to follow the Hades Guild’s philosophy.

So what happened when a new guild started taking in orphans without any apparent benefit?

It was like a protruding nail begging to be hammered down. Stand out too much, and you risked being marked as a target for every kind of suppression imaginable. Especially dangerous for a fledgling guild.

“Swing harder!!”

“Yes!!”

Whether he knew this or not, Isaac was once again calmly training Zeek today.

Zeek swung her sword exactly as Isaac instructed. He clicked his tongue.

‘The more I watch, the more ridiculous she seems. This kid’s going to be huge.’

Perhaps it was only fitting for the protagonist. In just one month of learning the sword, Zeek was already making her mark. She had even defeated Dig in a spar.

Of course, Dig was the type to slack off on training. Still, he was at the level where people in Gideon called him a hero. He wasn’t someone a complete beginner should be able to catch up to in a single month.

Yet Zeek had done exactly that. And even now, she was growing stronger every single day without pause.

It was partly talent, but the real reason was her almost insane level of effort. Just look at her now—swinging so hard that not only her palms but even the veins in her wrists had burst open.

Seeing this, Isaac clicked his tongue again.

“Didn’t I tell you that proper rest is necessary too?”

“I know…!!”

“But your body clearly doesn’t.”

“……”

“Even after training ends, even on rest days, you keep swinging your sword. Isn’t that right?”

It was only natural that Isaac, who was still closer to a modern person, wouldn’t have such keen insight. The reason he could say it so confidently was thanks to the novel.

In the original story, Zeek had literally shed blood and sweat every day in her desperate desire to repay Isaac. That was how she grew so quickly—but as a side effect, her body grew frail. In the original timeline, she would cough up blood every time she fought. That was why she became a meme known as the “frail pretty boy” or something like that.

But Isaac’s assumptions weren’t entirely correct.

‘I want to become like Master as soon as possible…!!’

The desire to become a hero had always been there. But the spark that turned it into an inferno was Isaac himself. The first person to affirm her dream was a hero? There was no way she could stay still.

Because of that, Zeek was pushing herself far harder than she had in the original story. She simply wanted to follow in the footsteps of the person she admired and longed to become.

“That’s enough for today.”

“I can still keep going!”

“……”

“I have to work even harder! Only then can I reach you, Master!”

Isaac pondered for a moment.

Effort itself wasn’t a bad thing. But too much could be worse than too little. Still, he couldn’t just force her to stop.

‘I need to make her understand with logic. That way she’ll accept it and act accordingly. Perfect timing. Shall I loosen up my concept a bit?’

If he could both explain his carefully crafted Isaac concept and convince her at the same time, it would be killing two birds with one stone.

Isaac let out a sigh and sat down.

“Do you think I’m strong?”

“Huh? Of course you are, aren’t you?”

Even at the sudden question, Zeek answered immediately. Isaac was the one who had founded the guild and taken the seat of master. He had to be strong. There was no way he could be weak.

“I wasn’t strong from the beginning.”

“But you still had talent, right?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“What?”

“In fact, I had an appalling lack of talent.”

At Zeek’s answer, Isaac shook his head. The response was so far beyond anything she could have imagined that Zeek was visibly shaken. She had simply assumed he had become strong instantly thanks to overwhelming talent.

“You’ve seen me training only the drawing slash, haven’t you?”

“Now that you mention it… you’ve only ever practiced drawing the sword.”

“That’s right. What did it look like to you?”

“To be honest… it looked incredibly inefficient.”

Drawing the sword, cutting, then sheathing it again. Even the young Zeek could tell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was an absurdly inefficient way to fight. Wouldn’t it be stronger to just swing the blade normally?

It was such an obvious truth that even a child who had just started learning the sword could see it. There was no way Isaac didn’t know it either.

A bitter smile formed on Isaac’s lips.

“That was because it was the only thing allowed to me.”

“What do you…?”

“I’m a dullard who can’t even swing a sword properly.”

A talent hated by the sword itself. A dullard who, no matter how much he trained his entire life, was not permitted to perform even the most basic sword techniques.

At Isaac’s words, Zeek opened her mouth in disbelief.

“I-is that even possible?”

“I suspect I must have committed quite a grave sin in my previous life. But I don’t know the details either.”

“But didn’t you cut down goblins with a sword back in the village?”

“That’s exactly why I only train the drawing slash.”

Only then did Zeek understand everything. The act of simply drawing the blade from its sheath—the only sword art permitted to Isaac, something that barely even qualified as swordsmanship.

“You may despair as much as you want. You may break as many times as you need.”

“……”

“But do not grow impatient. And never give up.”

Because the right time will always come.

Zeek saw her own past self reflected in Isaac. The helpless girl who had been trapped in the village, unable to do anything. Master must have swallowed countless moments of despair as he grew. Yet he had never given up. He kept swinging his sword. And in the end, he proved it to everyone through results.

It was undoubtedly a tremendous achievement.

But—

“Then why did you insist only on the sword, Master?”

The question that had been burning in the depths of her heart finally spilled from Zeek’s lips. She simply couldn’t hold it back any longer.

Why had he been so stubborn about the sword? If the sword didn’t work, there were other paths. Spears, axes, hammers—there were so many other weapons he could have chosen. Yet Master had clung only to the sword. Why?

“What else could I do?”

Zeek’s golden eyes fixed on Isaac. Even while thinking ‘How can a guy have such a pretty face?’, Isaac answered without being swept up in the mood.

“I already fell in love with it.”

As if recalling a distant dream from the past, Isaac closed his eyes. A faint smile lingered on his lips.

Yes. He had simply stubbornly pursued the thing he loved. The honest answer of a foolish man.

“…Love.”

The word slipped from Zeek’s mouth before she could stop it.

Just as she herself had refused to give up on her dream of becoming a hero until the very end, Master must have been the same.

“Thank you, Master. Thanks to you, I’ve realized something.”

She didn’t have to be impatient. It was okay to feel despair at the overwhelming gap. It was okay for her heart to break. As long as she didn’t give up, one day she too could become like that.

Thanks to Isaac, Zeek had finally come to understand this truth. A realization made possible only because her master—who had no talent—had stubbornly clung to the one thing he loved.

‘Phew. That was close.’

In truth, Isaac was breaking out in a cold sweat inside. Zeek’s final question had been a critical hit.

If you have no talent, why not just do something else?

This kid. Was she a genius?