Can You Hear My Voice? (1)

I slowly opened my eyes, feeling a warm energy wash over me. What greeted me was the central plaza of the Hero Academy. As my vision cleared and my mind sharpened, I realized I was staring at the academy's bustling square. It was packed with fresh-faced new heroes—bright-eyed rookies huddled together like baby chicks. The air hummed with their passion and fiery determination, filling every corner of the plaza. Was this the new student recruitment period? The place was overflowing with aspiring hero students.

Wait... how the hell am I seeing this?

Come to think of it, wasn't I supposed to be dead?

Once I fully regained my senses, a system window appeared before my eyes.

…What? Is this for real?

Don't tell me I'm that Easter egg—the Sealed Angel?

In the story, it was said that the angel sacrificed herself to save humanity. As a result, she became a statue that eventually found its way to the academy, where it now stands as a decorative piece. So does that mean I'm stuck here, sealed away forever? All alone and miserable?

No way. Absolutely not. If that's the case, then what was the point of dying? I didn't sacrifice myself for this!

Can no one really hear me? Is my voice completely unreachable?

"Can anyone hear me? If you can, please, anyone—react somehow..."

"Please... anyone at all..."

".....Ah, damn it. I really can't do anything, can I?"

Haha, my third life is already ruined. I can't even kill myself. Doomed to exist as a statue for eternity...

No. Maybe there's still a chance. System! Status! Open window!

…No response at all. Haha...

For now, I should just sleep on it. Oh, right. I'm a statue. I can't even sleep.

Sniff... sob... This is too much... I just want to talk to someone. Anyone.

As the sun set and a chilly evening settled over the plaza, a young hero who appeared to be a new student approached the statue. He stopped in front of it and spoke quietly.

"Angel... what should I do?"

"I'm so much weaker than my classmates. I barely scraped by to get accepted... and even then, it was only because I learned some random swordsmanship I picked up off the street."

"The friends who enrolled with me won't even hang out with me because I'm so weak."

"Is this what being bullied feels like...?"

"What if I can't make even a single friend like this? I became a hero because I wanted to protect people, but because I'm weak, I'm being ostracized. No one even talks to me."

"Does being weak mean I can't protect anyone...? How can I become stronger...?"

"......"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"...Sigh. What am I even doing? Talking to a stupid angel statue... What the hell am I supposed to do?"

—...—

Kid. Can you hear my voice?

"...Huh? Did someone just speak?"

—...! Kid, can you hear me??

"Whoa—who are you?!"

—Hic... Finally... Someone can hear my voice... At last...

The statue stood silently as the blazing sunlight gave way to cool moonlight. It held itself with quiet dignity—one hand gripping a sword, the other clutching herbs. The sword symbolized force, the herbs healing. The Angel Statue of Might and Healing stood motionless once again. At least until someone came to pour out their troubles.

A young hero was doubting his own weakness, tormented by it. Normally, the statue would have been powerless to respond. But this time was different.

A voice began to emerge from the statue. A very gentle, beautiful voice reached the young hero's ears.

"Who... who is calling me...?"

—Child... I heard you pouring out your worries.

"...! Could it be... the Angel...?"

The statue seemed to smile softly. The boy turned around and stared at it.

—Yes. I am Raphael, the Angel of Might and Healing.

—I was listening to your troubles. You're doubting your own strength right now, aren't you?

"Are you really an angel...? I thought all the angels had gone extinct..."

—Child, can you keep what you know about me a secret?

—If you promise to keep my secret, I can help solve your worries.

—How about it? I'll take care of that burden for you.

"Really...? You can make someone as weak as me stronger??"

—Of course. I am the angel who governs might. Making you strong is only natural.

"Hic... sob... Please... help me..."

The sound of quiet weeping rose from beneath the statue. Had he been ignored and looked down on by his classmates? The pain of it reached even me. Though I was now a statue, I had once been stronger than any hero. If I taught him my training methods, this boy would surely grow powerful.

That's right. From now on, you're my successor. I'll teach you the secrets of my strength.

—Can you endure the training I describe?

—It will be incredibly difficult, of course. But it will make you extraordinarily strong.

The boy clenched his fists tightly as he looked up at me—the statue—and spoke with determination.

"Yes, I can do it. No—I will do it!"

"If it means getting stronger, I'll do anything!"

His shout echoed through the quiet plaza. The boy no longer looked like someone who would back down. He was filled with a fierce resolve. And if used well, that kind of intensity could become the greatest medicine.

—Good. I can feel how strong your will is.

—For the next month, live without using any mana.

—That is my first lesson. Can you live without mana?

—If you can't, tell me now. This is your last chance.

The boy made a face of utter confusion. Living without mana was the same as living without air. Every living being possessed mana. Saying he had to go a whole month without using it was basically telling him to die.

But it was an essential step if he wanted to learn the Raphael-style Swordsmanship I had created. It was a unique sword art I developed during my time as a Heresy Inquisitor—an almost cheat-like technique that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could slice through an opponent's mana itself. Cutting mana meant you could even sever their spells. My swordsmanship was something even heroes had coveted. If he could master it, he would definitely become strong.

So, what will you choose?

"Do you even understand what it means to live without mana for a month?"

—Of course I do. If you live without mana for a month, you'll be looked down on and despised even more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than you are now. You might even be ignored by the teachers.

"Then why—?!"

—Because my swordsmanship requires it. Only by living without mana can you truly learn it.

—If you can't do it, then leave now. Though... I'd appreciate it if you came by to talk to me from time to time.

The boy couldn't believe what the statue was saying. Living without mana would make every class agonizing and exhausting. Did it really understand what it was asking? Maybe this statue wasn't an angel at all—maybe it was a demon?

…No, that couldn't be. All named demons were sealed in hell...

If you really are an angel, and you can make me stronger... then I'll follow you. Even if that path leads straight to hell.

Faith? That's a stat that never appeared in the game. Besides, I can't even see my own status window—what good is faith to me? Unless it can get me out of this statue...

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can really get out? Just by gathering faith?

…For now, I need to deal with the conflicted student standing in front of me.

The boy stood there silently for a long time before finally speaking in a quiet voice.

"I feel like I'm already in hell. Living without mana or living like I am now... it feels the same."

"...I'll live without mana, just as you said, Angel."

—Have you finally made your decision?

"Yes. This is my choice."

The boy bowed nine times toward me. It was a gesture of accepting me as his master. In that case, I had to do my part as well. It felt strangely surreal to gain a disciple after becoming a statue—something I never had in my previous life. My Raphael-style Swordsmanship would make you the strongest. I would make sure of it.

—...Boy. What is your name?

"My name is Ian. I have no family name."

—Ian... That's a good name. I accept you as my disciple.

"...Master, I look forward to your guidance."

—Yes, Ian. I look forward to it as well.

And so, Ian said his goodbyes and returned to the dormitory.

Now I wasn't lonely anymore. Because I had Ian.

But why could only Ian hear my voice? Was there some special condition for hearing me? This was definitely worth researching.

Once Ian reached the dormitory, he sat down and thought about everything that had just happened to him.

"What the hell did I just experience?"

"Am I actually going crazy?"

"A statue talked to me, and I accepted it—no, her—as my master..."

For a while, Ian muttered to himself as he tried to organize his thoughts. Then he spoke again, as if scolding himself.

"Ian... get a grip!"

"Let's try living without mana for a month, just like the statue master—no, the Angel—said."

Ian forcibly suppressed the mana flowing through his body.

"Ugh... Cough... What... what is this...?"

"My body... it's so heavy..."

With a thud, Ian collapsed onto his bed, unable to support his own weight.

"Ugh... I need to get used to this first..."

"Can I really get stronger if I live without mana for a whole month...?"

Still lost in confusion, Ian eventually fell asleep.