Urgent Recruitment: One or Two Companions

Never Returning Again. It was a novel whose very title practically dripped with the protagonist's raw fury. The story followed a competent protagonist who gets banished from the Hero's party by a foolish, jealous Hero. The Saintess, who harbored a one-sided crush on the protagonist, promptly quits the party to follow him. Left without their ace and their Saintess, the remaining members of the Hero's party suffer miserably.

"Man, the Hero is seriously pathetic." It was just a joke. I had typed out that brief comment and hit submit. But as the saying goes, a stone thrown in jest can kill a frog. It seemed my comment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't a joke to whoever was listening. The very next day after posting it, I found myself in this pathetic state—sitting at the Hero's desk, burying my face in my hands.

"Where did it all go wrong?" At my muttered words, a giant of a man standing in the corner let out a heavy sigh. It was a sigh that clearly conveyed just how pathetic he found me.

"Indeed. I wouldn't even know where to begin." The giant's name was Georg. A heavily armored warrior. His very name sounded packed with muscle. Of course, contrary to his rugged appearance, he was the most responsible and thoughtful person in this party. Even as the Saintess and the swordsman abandoned ship one after another, he had stayed with this hopeless party until the very end to help the Hero.

"Since it was your choice, you must take responsibility. Still, given the position you hold, I'd like to believe you didn't do this without any thought at all." I didn't choose any of this, though. Is this what they call responsibility without the pleasure? Feeling Georg's expectant gaze urging me to say something, I had no choice but to open my mouth. If even Georg left the party, I would have absolutely no hope left.

"...Isis leaving was unexpected."

"Did you really not expect any backlash? You must have known how close those two were." Of course I knew. I knew damn well. Eventually, she would track down the banished Aryen, and the two of them would end up together. This idiot Hero had a one-sided crush on Isis. Because he acted on impulse without thinking of the consequences, the entire party would suffer, the Hero would throw a tantrum, and ultimately, they would all be wiped out.

"To be perfectly blunt, your decision this time was nothing short of foolish. You should have at least spoken to me first. Though, I suppose you've never listened to a word I've said anyway." Georg's scathing, pitying words stung. I leaned back heavily in my chair and tilted my head back. Close your eyes, open them, and you'll be home. Close your eyes, open them, and you'll be home. I tried to hypnotize myself as I shut my eyes.

"Things are going to get difficult from here on out. Remember, we were incredibly lucky when we defeated the third Calamity." Damn it. Still not home. When I opened my eyes, Georg was still there, uncrossing his massive arms. I rolled my eyes in the opposite direction, trying to avoid his downward gaze. Georg stared down at me for a long moment before shaking his head. Don't do that. You're actually going to make me cry.

"I hope you won't just sit there in a daze forever, Elroy. I'll be heading out for the day as well. It's a rare vacation, but don't go wasting it in self-indulgence." Georg spoke in a voice like a rumbling cavern before walking out. Unlike Isis's light, clicking footsteps, Georg's heavy thuds echoed as he departed. It felt as though the entire building was shaking.

I stared blankly at the door long after Georg had left. My thoughts settled slowly, like tea leaves sinking to the bottom of a cup. It felt as if a hurricane had just swept through and left me in its wake. Elroy. It was only when Georg uttered that final word that I managed to recall the name of this body. Right, Elroy. Because the Hero was always referred to simply as "the Hero," barely any readers of the novel actually remembered his name. If even a dedicated reader like me had only just recalled it, the average reader wouldn't stand a chance.

"It doesn't really sound like a Hero's name, does it?" Isn't it a bit too ordinary for a Hero? As I indulged in these random thoughts, a sudden surge of anger washed over me, and I slammed my fists on the desk. "Damn it, almighty Author! Would it have killed you to transmigrate me just three days earlier?" If you had, I at least wouldn't have kicked the protagonist out! I could have just slacked off behind his back while pretending to work hard to defeat the Calamities! After throwing my little tantrum, all the energy drained from my body, and I slumped over the desk like a deflated jellyfish.

"If I knew this was going to happen, I should've left a much nastier comment." I muttered, slapping my cheeks with both hands. The voice coming out of my mouth felt foreign, and every single movement felt awkward. I stood up and began pacing the room. If anyone had been watching, I probably looked like a dog that desperately needed to relieve itself. Or just a complete madman. As my eyes wandered, they caught a full-length mirror tucked away in the corner of the room. Georg's massive frame had been blocking it entirely, so I hadn't even realized it was there. I dragged my feet over to the mirror. If I'm going to die anyway, I might as well see what I look like first.

"...What an arrogant-looking bastard." The moment I stood in front of the mirror, those were the only words that came to mind. The Hero, Elroy's face was the definition of punchable. First of all, his hair was mouse-grey. It wasn't a cool silver or a subtle ash-grey; it was literally the color of a mouse. It was a bizarre gradient—black at the roots and fading to white at the tips. His eyes. Amidst his sharply contoured, shadowed features, his most striking trait was his green eyes. But they didn't sparkle; they looked dead. Rather than the vibrant green of fresh foliage, they were a dark, murky teal, like a damp jungle. The slight upward tilt at the corners of his eyes gave him a distinct look. His nose was sharp, but his mouth had a subtly villainous curve that ruined his entire impression. A handsome, third-rate villain. If I had to summarize his looks in a single sentence, that was the Hero.

"I really don't like his face." I clicked my tongue and returned to my seat. If I recalled correctly, this space used as the Hero party's headquarters was a building specially provided by the kingdom. It faced south, offering a perfect view overlooking the entire Royal Capital. I stared out the window to calm my racing mind. Alright, enough throwing tantrums. Let's organize the facts. If I've transmigrated, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I need to act like a transmigrator. Even if I've ended up as a thoroughly unlikable character.

I had become the villain of Never Returning Again, the Hero Elroy. This guy was incredibly self-centered and so stupid that he had kicked out the actual ace of the Hero party, claiming he was useless. All because of a petty fit of jealousy. Following that, the healer—without whom the party couldn't even function—had also stormed out. Now, the only ones left in the Hero party were a single tank, a mage who had spent the entire story tormenting the protagonist, and a hollow shell of a Hero whose only saving grace was the Holy Sword. It was a truly pathetic lineup. In the latter half of the original novel, they barely even appeared. There was only a brief mention that they had been wiped out along with some new party members. Laying it all out like this made me lose all motivation.

"Can't I just quit?" Just take it easy. Return the Holy Sword, move down to the countryside, and become a farmer. No need to worry about the original plot, saving the world, or any of those headache-inducing battles.

"Yeah, absolutely not." Of course, if I tried that, the kingdom and the Holy Kingdom would have me assassinated without anyone ever finding the body. It was all because of the Holy Sword. Once the Holy Sword chose a master, it would never serve another until that master died. In the original novel, the ownership only transferred to the protagonist after this useless Hero died.

"But I don't want to die." I wanted to just wait around for the protagonist to single-handedly defeat all the Seven Calamities, but if I dragged my feet too much, the kingdom and the Holy Kingdom would start pressuring me. Hey, Hero, why aren't you working? Do you want us to strip you of the Holy Sword's ownership? That sort of thing. Rejected, rejected. Everything was rejected. To survive in this world as the Hero, there was only one cliché method.

"I guess... I have to get stronger myself..." A hollow laugh escaped my lips. I glared resentfully at the sword resting on the desk. Even when I picked it up by the hilt and stared at it threateningly, the Holy Sword remained tightly shut in its scabbard, refusing to utter a single word. What a joke. I placed the sword back on the desk. Putting aside the matter of getting stronger, my immediate priority was to somehow fill the massive gaping holes left in the Hero party. I didn't even expect to find someone on par with the Saintess or the protagonist. If I could just find someone who was even half as good as them, I felt like I could run over and bow to them in gratitude.

"I'll be heading out to search on foot." Asking the kingdom for support was out of the question. As far as I could remember, the kingdom didn't particularly like Elroy. The only thing they appreciated about him was his stupidity. An unreliable Hero who devoured an absurd amount of tax money—he was the perfect pawn for their political games.

"I can't exactly dig my own grave." I looked down at the streets of the Royal Capital. Below, high-rise buildings that seemed entirely out of place for a medieval setting stretched out. It looked almost as if the downtown of some European city had been transplanted here. Having only traveled to neighboring countries a couple of times in my past life, it felt surreal. I gazed at the view with a wistful look, as if it were the last thing I would ever see. "...Alright." I picked up a pen. I grabbed a stray piece of paper rolling around the desk. As thoughts began to form, I started scribbling them down.

Georg Ginter let out a short sigh as he left his house. It had been five days since the Hero, Elroy, had arbitrarily fired Aryen. Georg, who had been on vacation, only found out about it two days ago, and Isis had only learned of it yesterday. He wanted nothing more than to grab that idiot Hero by the collar and demand to know why he had done such a thing. Or perhaps track down the vanished Aryen and Isis, tell them the Hero had made a slip of the tongue, and beg them to return, admitting they were in the wrong.

"Does he even have a brain?" Those two practically made up eighty percent of the party's combat power. Because the Hero's reputation was paramount, they had always yielded the final blow to Elroy, but it was always Aryen who did most of the heavy lifting. And it was the Saintess, Isis, who would instantly heal Aryen and Georg as they acted as meat shields on the front lines.

"Damn Hero." As a public figure, Georg ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't just abandon the Hero party on a whim, which only fueled his anger. To make matters worse, the mage had gone off on a distant vacation and was nowhere to be found. The more he thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed. At least when Isis had come to announce her departure, Elroy seemed to have regained some semblance of sanity, his face turning pale as he merely gaped. Normally, it wouldn't have been surprising if Elroy had trashed the office in a rage. He wished the bastard had just thrown a shameless tantrum and broken things like usual. Elroy's flustered state only irritated Georg further.

"...Tsk." Out of habit, Georg headed toward the Adventurers' Guild. He felt like he needed to take on a simple quest and beat something up just to vent his frustration. Creak. As he pushed open the heavy doors of the Adventurers' Guild, the noisy chatter of the adventurers instantly died down. Georg frowned, realizing that every single eye in the room was fixed on him. What's wrong with these people? They aren't the type to care this much when I walk in.

"Sir Georg! Is that true?" "Hey, idiot, he obviously came here at this hour to check on that!" "Does this have something to do with defeating the third Calamity?" Georg's expression became utterly indescribable as a crowd of adventurers suddenly rushed toward him. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seeing his bewildered reaction, the adventurers tilted their heads in confusion.

"See? He has no idea. I told you it was a scam!" "But still, wouldn't you get arrested immediately for impersonating them? Especially right here in the Adventurers' Guild?" "I'm telling you, I saw the Hero himself come and put up that poster yesterday!" Georg pushed past the crowding adventurers and demanded, "What on earth is going on?"

"Go check the bulletin board. Someone put up a recruitment notice under the Hero party's name." A recruitment notice? Guided by the hands of the adventurers, Georg made his way toward the central bulletin board. The board was cluttered with various quest requests and recruitment flyers. There, a single poster caught Georg's eye.

Georg immediately recognized the signature at the bottom as the Hero Elroy's own handwriting.

"This... crazy bastard." A curse slipped from Georg's lips, sounding like a stifled scream.