Quests! Quests! Quests! – Countdown to the Proclamation
In the days leading up to the proclamation ceremony, the Hero zipped in and out of the Adventurer's Guild like a hummingbird, snatching up and knocking out all sorts of requests. Most were day trips, short-term gigs with combat difficulty way above their rank. Every time she bounced around like that, points piled up fast.
And then, finally, the morning of the proclamation dawned.
“Hero, are you in there?”
[Ugh, who the hell bugs people this early in the morning!]
“Sorry, but it's noon right now...”
Having spent so many years as a sword, my sense of time was shot. No helping it. While I was feeling sheepish, the Hero flung the door open.
“Hand it over.”
“Yes. I'll wait at the inn entrance.”
The proclamation wasn't some big, complicated affair. It used to be more elaborate, but Heroes aren't exactly the patient type. This one's a special snowflake, sure, but past Heroes were no slouches at causing chaos either. So the ceremony put the Hero front and center... without actually giving her much to do. She just shows up at the end, gets the Saint's blessing, flashes her face to the citizens and bigwigs, and calls it a day.
Truth was, the proclamation had already kicked off.
“What time, again?”
[Proclamations traditionally start when the sun's at its peak, so we should make it within the hour.]
[Honestly, being a little late wouldn't hurt, right?]
Zzap.
The Hero shot me a glare, so I shut up. Yeah, figured as much. Sure, I'd ragged on the holy sword for being useless before, but she was a huge help with history and finicky noble etiquette. She'd picked up a thing or two hanging around past Heroes.
[Anyway, no need to sweat it. A Hero's legitimacy comes straight from the gods—no need to bow to worldly rulers.]
“Not, worried.”
[Haha. Right.]
The holy sword was buzzing with excitement, finally getting a chance to shine. Kuhk. Yeah, she had me beat on stuff like this.
[I'm just a fresh young thing compared to the holy sword—I can't help it.]
[How rude, bringing up a lady's age! Besides, you've lived centuries yourself.]
[Sigh, even if I'm ancient, I'm still a baby next to a millennia-old granny sword.]
[Why are you like this to me?!]
While the holy sword and I bickered telepathically, the Hero unwrapped the bundle the guild staffer had dropped off. Inside were temple preps for the ceremony, including her ceremonial garb: the Holy Ritual Attire.
While I was distracted sniping at the holy sword, the Hero stripped out of her regular clothes and slipped into the ritual attire lightning-fast.
[Damn, missed the show.]
[...Pervert.]
Selflessly volunteering as a chastity belt for her master— the holy sword's devotion was terrifying!
The Hero smirked at my words.
“Wanna see?”
[Huh?]
Of course, no striptease ensued. Still in the ritual attire, she gave a light twirl.
The outfit evoked a modern wedding dress with sleek fashion sense. Short enough to bare her white arms and thighs, but layered with translucent fabric and star-cluster jewels for a mystical vibe. A gaudy getup no average beauty could pull off—but on a stunner like the Hero, it matched her platinum hair perfectly, radiating dazzling allure.
[Why the hell do they build self-luminous glow into the clothes?!]
[A near-divine body's too much for mortal eyes... or so the reasoning went, I think. Relic from stuffy old times.]
[I didn't ask for an explanation! Gyaack!]
That physically overwhelming beauty—I couldn't stare long. It wasn't just light; the faint holy power mixed in affected even me. To anyone without the rank to pierce it, the Hero must look like a walking light blob. Such a shame for the pretty dress and face.
She's not that much of a knockout, objectively.
[Come to think of it, the last Hero's proclamation was hilarious.]
[Wait, you were there?]
[Didn't see it live, but I caught it in my previous owner's memories.]
For reference, men's ritual attire differs a bit but shares the flowy fabric—and heavy exposure. The last Hero was a two-meter behemoth folks mistook for an orc hybrid. To normals, a towering giant of light. But powerhouses who saw through to his true form struggled not to crack up.
I, viewing via flashback, laughed my ass off unchecked.
[Mocking someone's looks is wrong.]
[So you didn't laugh?]
Pfft. [N-No, of course not.]
[Zero credibility, dude.]
Anyway, technically that last Hero was the holy sword's old master—cool to make fun of him?
“Time, to go.”
[Already?]
Whatever. The Hero seemed to attach real meaning to this ceremony, so we left the inn room and headed to Hire's central square for the event.
*
“Another long night may yet descend. Plague may rot the land, endless winter may freeze the world. When the snow stops, the corpses buried beneath may be our family, friends, lovers.”
Whether by design or coincidence, we arrived at the perfect moment.
“Yet the gods, though distant, leave their mercy ever at our side. Sunlight and moonlight bathing the world are proof; the stigmata granted to faithful servants are proof.”
A woman on the central square's podium delivered a passionate speech in a chilling voice. The contradiction drew the crowd in. Mesmerized masses parted slowly.
Overwhelmed by an unbearable holiness radiating from her, they instinctively stepped back.
The speaker spotted us, her gaze lingering—but she pressed on undaunted.
[Ugh. Can't help it if the Hero shines too bright.]
Plan was to weave through the crowd to the back. But with her in ritual attire up front, no choice. Already spotted, the Hero strode silently toward the podium. People parted like the sea before her steps.
“Above all, the noble soul the gods themselves shaped and sent to this earth is proof! Thus we fear not. Though wolves bare fangs beyond the pale, though darkness reaches for the flock—we know the shepherd who guards the sheep and banishes night will come.”
Her voice stayed cold, but the tone quickened urgently. Like sprouts piercing winter snow, flowers blooming—she cried out fervently.
“Hero!”
The throng gathered for the proclamation split wide. Bored by the long speech, dozing in the warm afternoon sun—all wore the same face now. The look of witnessing a miracle up close.
Amid flesh-crafted mortals, the light-forged human stood alone, complete.
She said nothing, so the crowd fell silent. Hero. Hero. Her cry echoed alone, and in the hush, the Hero ascended the podium.
That instant, murmurs rippled through the stunned audience like a spell breaking. True to form, she announced herself the world's surest way.
“We behold the god-sent Hero.”
“...”
The holy sword had wisely advised silence, so the Hero just nodded in greeting. The woman bowed crisply, then raised her head. Her shoulder stigmata gleamed cold moonlight under the noon sun.
No small role, leading the ceremony—and this was a heavyweight. Holy power matching the Hero's? Gotta be the Lunar Saint.
Usually the Solar Saint or Pope's gig, but with our bad blood toward the Solar Saint, she'd stepped in.
“Behold—and open your eyes!”
Moonlight shoved aside the square's sunlight, swelling massively. A chill glow unlike the sun's enveloped everything. An overwhelming holy power display impossible for one person—even a Saint needed sacred relics' aid.
The frozen moon's holiness poured toward the Hero.
[Fuuuuck!]
Saint's blessing's just a formality! A sprinkle of holy water and done! That's what you said, you damn holy sword!
The Hero wore only ritual attire atop her usual getup—so both holy sword and I hung at her waist. The attire's halo was just mildly unpleasant holy-tinged light, no real harm. But this tidal wave of holy power? Different story!
So, my reaction was pure reflex.
[You're dead meat later!]
Quick-thinking Hero shielded me from the holy power, and I vented my sealed blade's might unchecked—no fatal damage. But centuries of demonic energy was stubborn; it didn't wash away easy in the holy tide.
Demonic qi and holy power churned gray fog everywhere. The shepherd to light the night... had summoned the night itself.