I Should Have Been the Hero
The Hero’s Village.
It had no other name. It was simply called the Hero’s Village. Perched on a high plateau beyond the mountain range of the Western Continent, it was a tiny settlement of barely thirty souls. Yet the name carried weight, and for good reason.
Whenever the Demon King awakened, the Hero destined to defeat him had always come from this village.
Now, with word reaching even this remote corner that the Demon King’s forces were rising once more, Dain Lucanel quietly believed that this time, the Hero would be him.
He had trained in swordsmanship under his mother, Velika—a former royal knight and seasoned adventurer. Among his peers, he was the only one who had slain monsters outside the village, and everyone agreed he was the finest swordsman it had ever produced.
Dain was certain. If he became the Hero, then the Saintess would be Ceres. Being childhood friends with the village’s most beautiful and talented priestess felt like fate itself.
When rumors spread that the Prophet would soon arrive, the villagers began calling both Dain and Ceres the Hero and Saintess. Dain waved his hands in denial, but in his heart, he had already claimed the title.
“Hoo…”
Under a sky embroidered with stars, Dain let out a long, tense breath. He stood in the flower field where they had played as children, waiting to meet Ceres. His heart fluttered with nerves. Just then, her voice drifted from behind him.
“Dain?”
Her long, straight platinum-blonde hair swayed gently in the breeze. Bathed in moonlight and surrounded by drifting petals, anyone who painted her in that moment would surely title the work Saintess.
She wasn’t the village’s greatest beauty for her face alone. As she approached with a soft smile, her full, voluptuous breasts swayed with each step beneath her pure white dress. The moonlight revealed the artistic curves of her body in breathtaking detail.
The gentle lines of her waist and hips were more than enough to shake the heart of a young man who had only just reached adulthood. When Dain realized his gaze had unconsciously followed those curves, he quickly turned his head away.
“C-Ceres.”
“Why did you call me?”
Ceres plopped down beside him, and a pleasant, sweet scent wafted over. For a brief moment, Dain’s eyes lingered on her firm, shapely thighs.
“Hey. You know… about the Prophet coming tomorrow. Did you hear?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“They say he’ll designate the Hero and the Saintess.”
Ceres nodded quietly.
“So… even if I’m not the Hero! No matter what, I’m going with you to fight the Demon King’s forces, okay?”
Ceres hugged her knees and smiled softly, as if she had already known exactly what he would say.
“And?”
“So… um…”
The words rose in his throat but refused to come out. Ceres watched him without rushing, a faint pink blush coloring her cheeks. Though she swallowed nervously, her eyes remained fixed steadily on his.
“…I’ll wait for you! Until it’s all over!”
He fled. Even so, Dain tried to convince himself this was for the best. If they truly became the Hero and Saintess, defeating the Demon King had to come first. Having been born and raised in the Hero’s Village, both of them understood the gravity of those titles all too well.
“Hmph.”
Ceres turned her head away. Dain fumbled desperately for something else to say, but a knowing little smile had already formed on her lips.
“I think I’m going to be the Saintess, you know.”
“Oh really?”
“It’s true~. There’s no one in the village better at healing than me, right?”
Her tone was gentle and kind, yet full of quiet confidence. It was the quality Dain loved most about her. He playfully poked her side with a finger, and it sank deep into the soft flesh. Ceres let out a startled squeak.
“Kyaa! Hey! I told you not to do that!”
She slapped his back. Ceres hated how easily her body jiggled, but to the men of the village, that very softness was irresistibly alluring. The plush, yielding texture was strangely addictive; it made them want to touch her again and again.
“Hey, have you gained weight?”
“That’s it, I’m done!”
Ceres shot to her feet. Dain raised his arms expecting a kick, but instead she simply muttered under her breath.
“…Fine.”
“…Huh? What?”
When he asked again, Ceres shoved him over with her foot. By the time Dain rolled once through the flowers and sat up, she was already storming back toward the village with angry steps.
“Ceres!”
At his call, she whirled around with a fierce scowl—only for her expression to melt into something far more embarrassed than angry.
“I said I’ll wait for you, you idiot!”
She dashed toward the village, and Dain could have sworn her ears were burning bright red.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, Dain rubbed his eyes and came downstairs to find breakfast already laid out on the table. His mother, Velika, must have left early. He tore into the bread, barely tasting it, and spilled half his tea on the floor in his haste.
“Hey, hey! Dain!”
The frantic knocking could only belong to one person. When he opened the door, Hans’s familiar face greeted him.
“What’s going on?”
“A soldier just ran in! He told the mayor the Prophet is on his way up and we need to prepare to receive him! Let’s go!”
“R-right!”
Dain tossed the rag aside and raced after Hans.
The village had no proper square, so everyone gathered in front of the mayor’s house. The path had been swept clean, and even the broken fence that had stood for years had been hastily repaired. The mayor himself wore fine clothes no one had ever seen him in before.
With a mix of nerves and excitement, Dain took his place among them. When he spotted Ceres’s face among the cluster of women across the way, his heart began to pound even harder.
“Hey there, Hero! Looking forward to working with you!”
The tavern owner, who had somehow appeared behind him, clapped Dain on the shoulder. The other adults chimed in with laughter.
“Come on, we don’t even know who the Hero is yet.”
“Who else could it be but you?”
“Dain really does have the makings of a Hero. Great with a sword, and handsome too!”
The tavern owner slung an arm around Dain’s shoulders and pointed toward Ceres.
“And there’s our Saintess too. Haha!”
“Exactly! No doubt about Ceres!”
“Ah~ With a beauty like that, Dain, you’d better protect the Saintess well!”
When Ceres’s ears turned scarlet, the villagers laughed even louder, charmed by how adorable she looked. The whole gathering had taken on the festive air of a festival. The only one who seemed anxious was the mayor.
“H-here they come.”
The noisy crowd fell silent in an instant. In the distance, a gilded carriage bearing the kingdom’s flag was climbing the path. Flanking it were rows of armored escorts whose presence alone radiated intimidation.
At a signal from the lead rider, the procession came to a disciplined halt. The captain of the guard slowly opened the carriage door.
“We have arrived.”
An elderly man with a bent back, dressed in a gold-trimmed robe, took the captain’s hand and stepped down. His snow-white beard and deeply wrinkled face beneath drooping brows gave him a vacant look, yet that very vagueness made him seem all the more like a true Prophet. A hooded woman followed him out, and the mayor hurried forward to escort them both to a prepared platform.
The Prophet, helped up onto the platform by the captain, stared silently into empty space for a long time. Then the woman beside him spoke abruptly.
“This is the kingdom’s Prophet, Lord Serdin. Due to his advanced age, I, Lilias of the Magic Association, will speak on his behalf.”
When the robed woman lowered her hood, a strikingly beautiful yet utterly inscrutable face was revealed. She was lovely, but her expression gave nothing away. Perhaps that was simply how all mages were.
“One hundred years ago, the Hero Trillius defeated the Demon King. However, the Demon King has now been reborn and is once again gathering power in the Eastern Continent. With his existence confirmed, the kingdom requires a new Hero.”
Her voice was captivating, yet it seized the ears of every villager. From the moment she began speaking, not a single breath could be heard. An inexplicable chill seemed to settle over the crowd.
“Lord Serdin will now bestow the names of this generation’s new Hero and Saintess. We earnestly pray that you will devote everything to the subjugation of the Demon King. We await the divine revelation.”
How much time passed? In the heavy silence, the only sound was the occasional gulp of nervous swallowing. Dain’s heart felt ready to burst. There was no real basis for prophecy, yet no matter how he thought about it, every condition for the Hero pointed directly at him.
Hurry up! Just say it already, you old geezer!
Serdin’s eyebrows twitched. Then the old man’s eyes flew wide open, and a brilliant light poured from them. His gaze drifted slightly upward. Slowly, his parted lips released a name.
“…The Saintess, Cerestia Ruinas.”
It was Ceres’s name. Ceres herself looked stunned, but her friends nearby were already cheering. The noise died at a gesture from Lilias. Now only the Hero’s name remained. Once more, the old man’s mouth opened.
“The Hero is… Zarco Monzor.”
An unnaturally heavy silence fell. Dain’s mind went completely blank. His eyes unconsciously sought out Ceres. The moment he saw the look on her face as she stared back at him, a shattering reality carved itself into his bones.
