Chapter 249
Chapter 249
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 249
Chapter Title: The Most Hero-Like Hero (1)
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Rox of the Turbulent Earth.
A knight and graduate of Aphria Academy.
His high loyalty, exceptional tactical execution, and widespread respect had earned him recognition across the board. Currently, Rox served as Heinkel's direct informant.
As such, Rox received raw, unfiltered intelligence.
Not the sanitized versions passed along to other knights... but the unvarnished truth. This included the identity of the girl sitting across from him right now.
"Hmm."
Rox glanced at the girl opposite him.
Lania van Trias was brushing back her ash-gray hair as she pored over the documents he'd handed her.
He had personally relayed the top-secret details of her background to the Knight Commander.
"The Ashen Mage, Raniel."
"That girl Lania? Apparently, Raniel raised her. Seems he's been preparing for this since before retiring."
The Ashen Mage, Raniel van Trias.
"Treat her without any shortcomings."
"She's the child that Raniel cherishes."
The girl who received the full favor of that great mage.
This was information known only to a select few in the Knight Order, treated as strictly confidential.
'She must be someone extraordinary.'
After all, she was the one chosen by the Ashen Mage himself.
Like all magic knights, Rox held Raniel in excessively high regard—bordering on reverence.
"If you have any questions, feel free to ask. As the instructor for the next Hero candidate, Chloe, you have full clearance to review this information."
Lania nodded slightly with a smile at Rox's guidance. It was an incredibly gentle expression, and Rox found himself staring blankly for a moment before blinking rapidly.
'Yeah, she really doesn't resemble him at all.'
He'd heard rumors of a girl who took after the Ashen Mage, but meeting her in person shattered that image. She was the complete opposite of what he'd imagined.
'Nothing like the sharp, charismatic, and chilling presence of Lord Ashen Mage.'
She had a soft, warm impression—like someone who wouldn't utter a single harsh word.
'Come to think of it, she's a professor at Aphria.'
She probably smiled just as kindly at her students, patiently teaching them one by one. If he'd had a professor like her back at Aphria, he might have gone to class every day with a grin...
What a shame.
Rox had endured a hellish academic life under Rosel van Trias. He smacked his lips in regret and sighed inwardly.
While Rox built up his misconceptions,
'Tch, what a pain.'
Lania furrowed her brow as she scanned the documents. She pressed her temple, barely holding back the curses threatening to spill out.
The trial date was much sooner than expected.
This threw her entire plan into disarray. Irritated for no good reason, she muttered to herself.
'Guess I'll have to go grill him about it.'
There was no way the date had been advanced without cause. Someone nearby knew something—and if she grabbed him by the collar and shook, he'd spill it.
Kalt.
That guy would know.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
Chirp chirp.
Sparrows perched on the windowsill, twittering away. Sunlight from high noon filtered through the slightly open window, while the chill of early winter seeped into the room.
It was daytime.
Bright midday, with the sun overhead.
Sitting in his office, Kalt suddenly wondered when he'd last been home. The memory was hazy—it felt like more than a day or two ago.
"Whoa."
Kalt let out a hollow chuckle.
Burdened by doubled workloads since the organization restructure, he downed yet another cup of coffee—he'd lost count.
"Senior, didn't I become a superhuman?"
"You did."
"But somehow, all these enhanced physical abilities from becoming a superhuman... feel like they're just being used to pull all-nighters."
"Well, like Uncle Kuntel said."
Lania drawled from her sprawl on the sofa.
"Superhuman or not, you're still human in the end. Seems like you're making the most of superhuman abilities in a very human way."
"This is... superhuman? This kind of... superhuman?"
The future he'd hoped for was overtime?
He suppressed the urge to shout it out loud—that this wasn't superhuman at all—and sighed deeply.
"That's why I'm asking."
Kalt eyed Lania, slumped in the corner of the office.
"What brings you here?"
"Something to ask."
"I can guess. I got the memo a few days ago too."
Probably about the trial for the next Hero candidate. Kalt set down his quill pen—a signal he was ready to talk.
"Here goes."
Lania sprang up from the sofa and approached Kalt.
"Kalt."
"Yes, Senior?"
"The next Hero candidate, Chloe—the kid I'm raising. Isn't her trial schedule a bit rushed?"
The unexpectedly accelerated trial timeline.
That was why Lania had come to see Kalt.
Kalt took a moment to steady his breath before answering.
"...Hero candidates usually face their trials after two years at the earliest. This is actually on the slower side. It's been three years since she was discovered as a candidate."
"You said you'd take your time raising her."
We did say that.
Muttering as much, Kalt sighed.
"Plans changed."
"...What?"
"Yeah. They need Chloe to pass the trial and become an apprentice Hero for deployment. Of course, she can stay at Aphria afterward..."
Kalt paused briefly before continuing.
"...Make her deployable in special circumstances. That's the directive—straight from Knight Commander Heinkel himself."
"Uncle Heinkel said that?"
"Surprisingly, yes."
Lania frowned.
The Heinkel she knew was a principled man who went out of his way to give any Hero ample time before sending them to the front lines.
'That's why I thought we had plenty of time.'
If Heinkel had made that call, there could only be one reason. Lania asked cautiously.
"...Is the front line that bad?"
"It's tough, but they're barely holding the balance. The free use of Sword Ghost Draka is helping. However..."
Kalt trailed off.
"What?"
"It's still classified, but... one of the Heroes is retiring soon. That's expected to upset the balance."
A Hero's retirement.
Unheard of, but over centuries, there had been a few precedents—usually severe injuries forcing them from the battlefield.
Lania's eyes narrowed.
"From a major injury?"
"No, nothing like that."
Yet retiring anyway?
The first name that came to mind was Destel the卑鄙, who daily threatened to quit.
"Destel the卑鄙? He finally retiring?"
"No. True to his moniker, he's been freeloading everywhere—retirement's far off for him."
Lania narrowed her eyes further.
Not Destel the卑鄙. That left only one option. Her voice dropped instantly.
"Kyle's retiring?"
A chilling tone.
The room's temperature seemed to plummet. Kalt swallowed hard and shook his head.
"Not Lord Kyle."
"Then who? No one left."
"Why not? There's one remaining."
"Pfft."
Lania let out a scoff.
"Galahal wouldn't retire. He's not the type. Even if you shoved him out the door, he'd say, 'I haven't fulfilled my duties yet,' and refuse."
"It's him. He's retiring."
She froze.
Lania, who'd been waving it off as impossible and a joke, stiffened. Staring silently at Kalt, she whispered.
"...For real?"
"Yes. Completely."
"No way. Galahal retiring... that Galahal?"
"Yes. Galahal of the Holy Spear is retiring."
A few blinks.
Several seconds of silence.
"Insane."
Lania spat out the word.
Her expression screamed utter disbelief.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
The easternmost front line, bordering the Demon Realm.
A land trapped in eternal night, where the sun never rose. The ground never had a chance to harden. Day after day, demon beast blood soaked in, followed by human blood. Human corpses sank into the earth below, only for demon beast carcasses to pile atop them.
They burned the blood-soaked mire.
And fought the demon beasts again atop it.
In this endless cycle of death upon death, the knights fulfilled their roles.
Knights were guardians, protectors of humanity.
Clutching their mission to their chests, they resisted the encroaching death each day. Like these knights standing at one corner of the front line.
"......"
Eastern front line, Roten Company.
The knights standing on Roten Company's soil stared at the ground. There lay the bodies of comrades they'd been fighting back-to-back with just moments ago.
Shattered blades.
Ownerless swords.
Scattered limbs.
The corpses were mangled—bitten or crushed, by the look of it. The surviving knights slowly raised their heads.
Crunch.
As they lifted their gazes forward.
Crunch, grind, gnash.
A colossal monster stood there.
Beneath the grotesque demon beast lay heaps of corpses. Blood flowed endlessly.
Splat.
The ground stained anew with their brethren's blood.
The beast's claw snatched a knight barely crawling across the dirt. It squeezed until he burst. Not for sustenance.
"Guh... ack... guh..."
Just toying with him.
Another knight met his end. The watching knights' eyes were hollow.
Special Class 1 Demon Beast: Corpse Harvester.
The Corpse Harvester was a creation of the Traitor. The knights knew its history—it had appeared on battlefields multiple times before.
Tough hide and absurd regeneration.
Strength to shatter walls barehanded.
True to its creator's reputation as a calamity, this demon beast was a disaster unto itself—far beyond ordinary foes.
They couldn't stop it.
They needed more knights.
But reinforcements never came.
All they could do was stand their ground.
After massacring a certain number of knights, the 'Corpse Harvester' would inexplicably gather the fallen bodies and retreat to the Demon Realm.
Sometimes they managed to slay it.
But not always—they'd resort to sacrificial bait.
Yes, sacrificial bait.
No reinforcements would come. They'd die here. Having braced for such a day, the knights accepted their fate.
Crunch.
To keep the beast from nearby lines barely holding, they drew its gaze here.
Crack, snap.
That was their role.
The best judgment they could make.
Splat.
The best... yet.
"Guh... ack."
Watching comrades vomit blood and die accomplishing nothing... even the steadiest resolve would waver.
Terrifying.
Fearful, but they couldn't flee.
'I am a knight.'
A knight was one who protected.
One who shielded others.
They chose protection—that made them knights.
'But.'
In their final moments, doubt crept in.
Who protected the protectors?
Was there no one to save them?
The doubt swelled.
"Ugh... uuu..."
Devoured by fear, they nearly screamed not as knights, but mere humans.
BOOM!
A streak of light speared into the battlefield.
The Corpse Harvester staggered back, creating a gap of a few steps. Someone stood there.
The dust settled.
Amid the haze, radiant starlight gleamed.
Whoosh—a platinum spear swept the dust aside, revealing its wielder.
"Hero, Galahal."
He uttered his own name.
Stepping ahead of the surviving knights, farther than any, he regripped his spear and declared.
"I will go with you."
Who protected the protectors?
Answering the knights' final doubt, Galahal's holy spear(?) shone platinum.
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