The Fall Begins

Among the three endings that originally awaited Tanas, there was one where he lost his sense of self and turned into a living mana battery. I wondered why they didn't just kill him and instead used him as a biological battery... but to think it was because he'd shared the hero's authority like this.

'Those bitches were truly insane.'

They couldn't be considered sane. I continued reading the blue window floating before my eyes.

"......"

Martie, alternating his gaze between the silent me and the holy relic, nodded as if he understood everything.

"Hero, don't worry too much. You can receive the blessing anytime once you gather your companions."

"......"

That's not the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠issue, you idiot.

'Insane.'

I'd come to Martie intending to recruit a hero party from scratch, but I never imagined I'd recover even these hidden authorities.

And not just that—the legendary skill, a step above the unique skills of the other three heroes.

'Legendary' grade was reserved only for the protagonist, the Hero.

Moreover, being a healing-type ability, it would greatly boost survival rates.

The other skills were all rare grade or higher, befitting a hero.

To share something like this... did it mean that much trust?

'But they treated me way too harshly for that.'

The memories of Tanas I'd recalled were a nightmare itself. The party members treated him like a slave... no, perhaps even a slave would have been better.

They must have exploited some weakness or tricked him somehow.

"......"

But I wasn't that Tanas. I wondered what faces those women would make when branded.

I'd probably see them again soon.

"Didn't I say I'd take on the brand that would be imposed on you? Don't get too down just because you suddenly feel weaker."

I turned my head slightly to the side, and Martie stomped his feet, offering pointless comfort.

'For a great spirit of such high divinity, he's awfully soft.'

Anyway, I could look into the authorities later. I pointed to the white orb on the table.

"The deal—let's finish it."

"Good thing it seems satisfactory."

He slowly infused green light into the orb, then handed it back to me—not white anymore, but a multicolored orb.

'Please be legendary, please be legendary.'

"Hm..."

I let out a groan and took the multicolored orb Martie handed me.

Normal, uncommon, rare, epic, unique, legendary—the fourth one. An epic item was good, no doubt. And a recovery item meant I could secure my life safely, so it would definitely be useful.

But somehow... it felt a bit bland. And 'Absolute Status Recovery' came with a stat penalty for a duration...

'If it could even recover the innate true energy I've drawn out, that would be perfect... but that's probably too much to ask?'

For me, the Hero, it didn't seem all that useful.

"......"

Hard to test since it was one-time use. Should I just sell it?

Such thoughts were fleeting. 'It's like an extra life, so think positive.' And who knows what item I'd get collecting all the fragments.

Good thing I recovered the Recovery Authority. That was close.

"Satisfied with the result?"

"Eh, it's decent... the holy relic as promised."

"Thanks."

'Not bad at all.'

I handed him the black ribbon and turned away without regret.

"Leaving already? Just so you know, I won't be here next time you come."

I already knew that. I just waved once and headed to the high-class inn at the edge of the village.

"......"

I'd acquired a weapon, a spare recovery item, and unexpectedly reclaimed my authority.

Now, all that remained was recovering my own martial prowess and gathering companions...

Martial power came down to honing martial arts—and with the experience I'd built up and the Recovery Authority? Scenario clears were a piece of cake, even if they were gated.

The issue was finding party members—strong ones who wouldn't backstab me...

"Oh."

My eyes caught on a poster on the bulletin board.

There it was. The strongest swordsman. And one who absolutely wouldn't backstab...!

"...Hm."

Just one major flaw aside.

"......"

I stroked my chin lightly, lost in thought.

'But considering the treasure vault, Viscount Barden, and the returned authority...'

Maybe the outcome could change with my efforts? If it worked out, I could unlock extra dungeons and clear scenarios. Best case, huge gains; worst case, no big loss.

"Alright."

The deliberation didn't last long. I strode forward and flung open the door to the high-class inn.

"Welcome, sir!"

The guards and a few guests glanced over but quietly looked away upon seeing the sword at my waist.

"How much for a night?"

"1 gold per night. Ah! Breakfast and dinner are included as standard..."

"Here's 100 gold. I'll stay a month, so give me somewhere quiet."

I cut her off firmly and poured the coins onto the counter. The woman widened her eyes in surprise.

This used up almost all the money from the Magic Tower. It hurt, but money was meant to be spent when needed.

"W-We'll guide you to the special room."

I glanced around the inn's central hall and followed her up the stairs.

'Easy.'

The greedy eyes watching me. The bait was set. Now, just wait.

Under the dark night sky,

"I can't believe it. To fail at something this simple."

She—Arshe—clicked her tongue while looking at her party members.

"...I'm sorry."

"Sorry..."

"I have no excuse."

Surprisingly, not a single one argued back.

And for good reason.

"......"

The Hero stood silently behind Arshe, watching.

The Hero favored parties built strictly on merit. Knowing that, Arshe rampaged even more arrogantly.

"Warrior, warrior."

"...Yes, Arshe? What is it?"

"Didn't I tell you to take the west flank?"

"Y-You did."

"Then why did you tuck tail and retreat like a scared rat?"

At her rebuke, the warrior lowered his eyes and hung his head.

"B-But there were four berserk orcs right in front..."

"What about me?"

"......"

The warrior had no choice but to shut his mouth. He was certainly skilled as a member of a hero party, but... what could he say?

Arshe had held off over a dozen orcs without even a shield.

"Answer me. Or has your mouth fled too?"

The blue-haired girl glared arrogantly right in his face. One of only three proxies from the Tyr Church of Justice, famed across the kingdom for frontline prowess surpassing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠warriors—people called her the "Iron Wall" Arshe.

"......"

The warrior looked to his comrades for help, but none responded. Naturally, not even the Hero... no, he was practically Arshe's ally. He'd personally scouted her right after the incompetent Hero left for the capital to face .

"You useless piece of—!"

As Arshe was about to spit icy criticism as cold as her blue hair, salvation came from an unexpected source.

"R-Red Minotaur ahead...!"

The scout thief came running, drenched in cold sweat.

"What? A Red Minotaur?"

"Did it cross through the desert zone?"

"......"

She briefly wondered why an upper-class monster like a Red Minotaur was in the kingdom's south, but 'Doesn't matter—upper-class or whatever, I'll block them all.' She shook her head and tensed her body.

"I'll take the front. Everyone else, support from the rear!"

"A-Arshe, what should I do?"

"You... yeah, go prepare to sleep."

At the scornful insult, the warrior bowed his head deeply.

"Grroooaaarrr—!"

It was a monster five times her size, but she drew her sword without hesitation and charged.

"Here I go!"

And as soon as the words left her mouth, a golden aura enveloped her body!

She had every reason to be confident. She had 'Firm Oath' and Tyr's blessing 'Unyielding Will'. As a proxy of the Tyr Church, Arshe could amplify Tyr's blessing up to fivefold.

Thus, the monster's massive axe was laughable. No threat at all.

She was certain of victory, as always.

"Huh?"

Bang!!

Until she was sent flying...