The Hero Without a God's Blessing
The thief's first impression was that of a prankster.
"Roto Ivar, at your service."
A dagger hung at each of his hips. His body was so gaunt he could have slipped through a chimney with ease, and his jawline was sharp as a blade. He was a young man whose eyes brimmed over with mischief.
"Until just before coming here, I was tailing a Hero's party. I draw excellent maps, I'm a dab hand at cracking treasure chests, and I can spot a trap at a glance. It's been a while since I introduced myself, so it feels a bit awkward—long story short, I applied because I want to pull in a fortune on the Eastern Expedition and lounge around for the rest of my life."
Kiera, clad in light armor that made her short skirt its most alluring feature, stared at him in silence.
"What was the name of the Hero in your previous party?"
"Can't say."
"Why not?"
"Because your very next question is going to be why I left that party. And because of the reason I left, I can't say."
The mage Jerica, who had been standing behind Kiera, stepped forward.
"Then start by telling us why you left."
She was a woman with curly brown hair, roughly 170 centimeters tall, and the side-slit hem of her robe revealed sturdy thighs and calves as she walked, radiating sensuality from every angle. The blue-and-white robe she wore harmonized beautifully while emphasizing her ample chest. She regarded the thief Roto with evident amusement.
"You look like you're dying to tell us."
"And you'd all be floored when you heard it. There's trashy drama, and then there's this."
Roto launched into his story with both hands gesturing animatedly.
"So one night, the Hero was away on urgent business and spent the night out. I woke up in the middle of the night and stepped out of my room to use the privy. And that's when I heard a woman's moans coming from the room next door."
"That story is painfully clichéd."
Jerica scrunched her brow slightly and shook her head.
"You're making it up."
"I swear, I swear! Everything I say is the honest truth."
"Hey, Jerica, let's hear him out."
A man's voice cut in abruptly. It was the paladin Deanberg. He stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face angular as a rectangle, looking quietly eager for the rest of the thief's tale.
"Ah—excuse me a moment."
The priestess Inani rose from her seat. With her pure, delicate features, she opened the door and slipped outside, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Besides Kiera's new companions, Duke Toledo was also seated at a desk listening inside the room, with his eldest son Yosef standing at his side. Today's gathering was a formal introduction between Roto—Duke Toledo's recommended candidate—and the rest of the party.
"Anyway, there were a woman's moans coming from the next room. That room belonged to the Hero's girlfriend—the Saintess. I thought, why would someone so holy be doing that, and I listened quietly for a bit, and then a man's heavy breathing started up too. So I thought, what on earth is going on here, and I eased the door open to check. And there, tangled up in bed with the Saintess, was the pack mule of our party. The two of them going at it without a shred of fear of heaven itself. In that moment, I knew it was all over. I had a gut feeling the party was bound to fall apart sooner or later. The very next day I went straight to the Hero, politely informed him I was leaving the party, and walked out. And that concludes my reason for leaving. Nothing special, right? I didn't cause any trouble on my way out, so rest easy."
Deanberg laughed.
"You never told the Hero that the Saintess and the pack mule were carrying on behind his back?"
"Nope. That party was going to break apart no matter what, so why stick my neck out and end up in the middle of the mess myself? My only thought was to get out before things went completely sideways."
"So the pack mule had a passionate affair with the Saintess, the Hero's own girlfriend... Clichéd, sure, but there's nothing quite as entertaining as someone else's infidelity. What was the name of that poor sap of a Hero?"
At Jerica's question, Roto's eyes went wide.
"See! I knew it! If I go around broadcasting the Hero's name, he'll be so consumed by shame that he'll hold a grudge and come to kill me. I'll take it to my grave before I say it."
"Fair enough. There are few humiliations worse than having your woman stolen by a mere baggage carrier."
Deanberg chuckled and scratched the back of his neck with an itchy grin.
"Still, I'm curious. Give us the first letter of his name, or some hint at least."
"Do you take me for an idiot? There are only five Heroes in the entire world—one letter of a name and anyone could figure it out."
Roto steered the conversation elsewhere before the crowd could grow any more relentless. Then he looked up at Kiera with curious eyes. The person of greatest interest in this room right now was her—the Hero.
"Which god does the Hero serve?"
"A god...?"
"Every Hero has a god watching over them, don't they? Like the God of Wisdom, the God of the Sword, the God of Storms. Which god do you serve, Lady Kiera?"
"......"
Kiera faltered at the unexpected question, fumbling for words.
Does something like that even matter?
Yosef laughed and called out.
"Our Lady Kiera serves a god far greater than any of the other Heroes—I'd stake my life on it without even asking!"
Jerica tilted her head.
"Now that you mention it, I've never actually seen Kiera pray."
Deanberg nodded along.
"Come to think of it, neither have I."
"What?! Don't tell me you don't have a patron god?"
Roto chattered on, grating on Kiera's nerves with every word.
"The source of the Hero's power is a god—so how exactly do you have any power at all, Lady Kiera, without a god to serve?"
It was then that Duke Toledo, who had been listening in silence all this while, finally spoke.
"Now that I think of it, I too have heard that Heroes receive divine revelation every day. Lady Kiera. Is it truly the case that you have no god to serve?"
With even the Duke joining in, Kiera grew desperately uneasy. Her eyes darted this way and that, until at last, as if something had come to her, she clenched her fist and looked out at them all.
"I do have a god I serve. His venerable name is Lord Belkran."
"Belkran?"
"Belkran?"
"Belk...ran?"
Every face wore the same expression: they had never heard the name before.
"I suppose he isn't very famous, then."
Roto stepped closer.
"Or did you just make him up on the spot?"
He grinned impishly right in front of her, and to Kiera's eyes it looked insufferably smug. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth.
That some people have no patience or restraint, and so one ought to pick one's targets carefully before playing such games.
A little over a month had passed since they left Nofha, the capital of the Basilite Kingdom. The journey had been smooth. In every village and every city, people welcomed the expedition with joy. Some nobles cheered on the mission to the Eastern Continent, while others begged them to slay demons that had appeared nearby.
But today was different.
A fortress they had intended to rest at briefly had been occupied by demons—taken whole. Its lord, its knights, its soldiers—every last one of them had transformed into grotesque fiends.
"Utterly horrifying."
Duke Toledo immediately ordered a retaking. The expedition halted its march and pitched camp before the fortress, which was ringed by thick, solid walls. Some time passed as they prepared for the assault.
Roto appeared before Kiera, who stood in full plate of silver-white armor, and flashed a mischievous smile.
"You've been working hard these past few days putting on a show of praying."
"......"
Kiera ignored him and crouched down where she stood. Stretching out her hands, she inspected the seams of the metal boots on her feet. Roto, his gaze locked shamelessly on the sliver of her side breast bulging out from beneath her cuirass, continued talking.
"But why are your prayers so clumsy? The Heroes I've seen never prayed in that manner."
"Everyone has their own way of doing it."
"Oh, it's fine. Totally fine. I'm not criticizing. It's just that I have good instincts, and I can tell you're not actually serving any god, Lady Kiera. Not that I'd go around mocking you as a rootless Hero, of course."
Kiera flared up, her blue eyes boring into him.
"Watch your mouth."
Roto raised both hands in surrender and backed away, grinning roguishly.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there. I just came to cheer you on. Honestly, I want to get on the Hero's good side as fast as possible, and I learned that a little back-and-forth banter is the fastest way. There's even a saying, isn't there—you grow fond of people by fighting with them?"
"Is your household doing well?"
"Why on earth would you ask that all of a sudden?"
"Since your bragging didn't come out right away, I figure you must be broke."
Having finished inspecting her armor, Kiera rose to her feet with a sneer. She gripped the sword she'd laid on the table and walked out of the camp. The road led toward the main gate of the fortress, shrouded in malignant aura.
In this day and age, having a Hero on your side revolutionized siege strategy. The Hero would infiltrate the fortress first and subdue the massed enemies with astonishing power, and then the allied troops who followed in behind would mop up whatever remnants remained.
"Whew."
Kiera took a deep breath and then sprinted straight for the castle gate. She ran the hundred-odd meters at full tilt and then leaped powerfully into the air, vaulting clean over the towering walls as if flying through the sky.
The moment she landed inside, zombie knights and grotesque fiends swarmed all around her. She calmly drew her sword. Before long, a powerful whirlwind came roaring through the fortress.
A short while later, the firmly sealed castle gate swung wide open, and Kiera appeared.
Yosef, eldest son of House Toledo, raised his sword high and roared.
"CHAAAARGE!"
Roughly a hundred soldiers, along with the Hero's party, came flooding through the gate.
"I'll go find the transformed lord of the fortress!"
With that declaration, Roto set off in search of the treasury room. Eventually, he found it—a chamber overflowing with gold and treasure.
"Hot damn, jackpot!"
He darted into the room and swiftly picked out only the smallest trinkets, stuffing them into his pockets.
"A little side income is what makes the job worth doing, eh?"
Just as he was snickering to himself, he heard the creak of a door hinge.
"What's that sound?"
He glanced back without thinking—and froze solid on the spot. Kiera stood at the doorway, watching him with a completely expressionless face.
"Ah, ah—now, this is..."
He scrambled for an excuse, but apparently deciding it was hopeless, he scratched his head furiously and came clean.
"I was going to pocket them on the sly. I know. It won't happen again."
He emptied every treasure from his trouser pockets, and then, brushing straight past Kiera, was just about to leave the room—
When a blade suddenly plunged into his back and punched through his chest.
"Gahk...!"
"You—talk too much."
The blade slid back out, accompanied by Kiera's frigid voice. Roto collapsed where he stood, dead with his eyes still open.
Kiera dragged his corpse out of the room and flung it to the fiends that had been prowling outside.
When dawn broke, pale light settled over the fortress. Zombie and demon corpses littered the ground in every direction. When people noticed Roto's absence, they naturally assumed he had died in the battle.
"All mouth, no skill, apparently."
The mage Jerica smirked. There had been far too little camaraderie between them for anyone to grieve. At her words, Deanberg nodded as well.
"Looks like he took Hero's parties too lightly. If you lack the skill, even a Hero gets thrown out of one."
"Let us all pray for him."
The priestess Inani clasped her hands together in mourning.
Watching the scene, Kiera turned her gaze to the distance and smiled quietly. She felt no particular urge to mourn. The man who had publicly exposed her as a Hero with no god to serve was nothing but an object of hatred to her.
Deanberg finished his brief moment of remembrance and started walking.
"Let's leave the cleanup here to House Toledo's people and head back to the barracks. I'm starving—if we're moving out this afternoon, we'd better eat our fill first."
"Where's our next destination?"
"East Before."
"That's the city right near the Eastern Continent, isn't it? Then we've practically left the Western Continent behind! Excellent!"
While Deanberg and Jerica chatted and drifted away, Kiera's mind wandered back to something Lucy had once said.
'Back when the Hero's power vanished, I came up with a hypothesis. What if it's deeply connected to Maru? Like, if we forget each other, the power fades away, but if we think of one another, it comes back. That's my first hypothesis. The second hypothesis is that the Hero's power disappears when we're far apart. That is, distance-related...'
Perhaps it was because of her own experience of losing the Hero's power. A sudden wave of fear washed over her, and she plucked at one of her hairs to check. Her hair still gleamed with dazzling silver. She smiled in relief.
"Lucy, your theory was wrong."
She tossed the single strand of hair she'd been clutching onto the ground and walked away. The hair that had fallen to the earth quickly lost its luster and turned black.