Chapter 358
Chapter 358
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 358
Chapter Title: Disaster, and the Hero (1)
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Everyone walks their own path.
Lives their life in their own way.
Moves forward with their dreams as their guideposts.
Dreams, the person they want to become.
Some dreamed of being heroes. Others dreamed of becoming actors. Some wanted to write fairy tales. Someone, someone else, and yet another...
...Dreams, dreams, the self they aspire to be.
"Raniel, what do you want to become?"
My father had asked me that once.
"What? You want to be a librarian like me?"
At the time, that's what I answered.
I didn't have any particular dreams. I just liked reading books, so I answered without much thought.
"Come on, give it up, Raniel."
"Being a librarian isn't as fun as you think. Don't you have bigger dreams? Not that I'm saying this because you're my son, but you really have talent. That book you're reading right now—even I don't fully understand it, Raniel."
"But you do. You even say it's fun. Instead of staying in this small village, why not go to the capital and show off your talents?"
"Hmm, you just like reading books? So you want to be a librarian..."
My father gave a bitter smile at my response.
"Well, you're still young. Think about it some more. Dad will help you find it. We've got plenty of time."
Contrary to what Father thought, time was not on our side.
The next day, the village burned to the ground.
The books Father cherished, the villagers, my mother who shouted for me to run until the end, and Father who promised to help me find my dream—all turned to ashes.
That day, I lost my dream.
I lost my guidepost.
I no longer knew where to go.
I just vaguely thought that if I kept walking forward, maybe a dream would come to me someday as I lived on. That's what Father had said in his final moments.
But.
"...Raniel."
That day, I wasn't the only one who lost a dream.
"Raniel, what are we supposed to do now?"
I looked to the side.
There was Kyle, grinding his teeth amid the ashes. He'd said he wanted to be a hero. Swallowing his tears, Kyle ground his teeth.
"My parents, the villagers—all gone... What am I supposed to do now...?"
He was still dreaming of being a hero.
He wanted revenge on something.
But Kyle had always been the type who could only think of one thing at a time. I let out a short breath and extended my hand to him. He looked up at me from where he sat in the ashes.
I gave him a bitter smile and said,
"Let's head to the capital first."
...I'd lost my dream, but.
"We'll figure something out there."
You're still dreaming.
You're still trying to become something.
"Follow me."
So for now, I'll take the lead.
2.
As I walked forward, I looked back on the past.
I recalled the path I'd walked, and the people I'd once walked it with. Remembering them over and over, I kept moving ahead.
Kyle Toven, you damn bastard.
He was such a pain in the ass.
He tripped often, fell often, despaired often. Sometimes it got on my nerves. He'd just collapse and whine at every little thing.
"Raniel, is the capital always like this?"
"I can't become anything here."
"Weren't we supposed to be able to do something if we came here? Become something?"
I don't know, how the hell should I know?
Those words rose in my throat, but I didn't spit them out. I understood his feelings. We'd made it to the capital, but we refugees from a burned village—two kids—weren't welcomed kindly by the world.
In the end, all we could rely on was each other.
We shared a lot of stories back then, it seems.
I leaned against the alley wall.
Kyle sat slumped on the ground.
We talked.
Kyle complained, and I listened. Sometimes I laughed, sometimes I nodded. In that narrow, filthy alley, Kyle talked about his dreams. He shouted loudly about the person he wanted to become.
He looked happy back then.
Yeah, you're still dreaming.
I smiled and extended my hand to Kyle. Let's survive somehow today. Let's try a little harder than yesterday. To become something.
He grabbed my hand and stood.
And so we moved forward.
Of course, we didn't always head in the same direction. We each lived our lives in our own ways.
I was taken in by my master and walked the path of a mage.
Kyle survived day by day as a noble's errand boy, doing odd jobs.
Whenever we had a really tough day or some bullshit experience, we'd meet at a rundown tavern and vent. We'd gripe about the day's events and chuckle.
"Discriminating based on background, those fucking assholes, damn. Hey, does this make any sense? Kyle?"
"You too, Raniel? That noble prick was badmouthing my hometown, and I wanted to smash a rag in his face. What the hell do they think people are?"
Petty chit-chat.
Trash-talking the assholes.
We laughed out loud over pointless stories. We'd bicker over who paid for the drinks. Whenever Kyle's pride kicked in and he insisted on paying, I'd come up with some excuse and cover it myself.
We lived our own lives like that.
Then one day, Kyle became the Hero.
He came to me, saying he'd finally achieved his dream, and extended his hand, asking me to come along. The hand I'd once offered him—he was now offering to me.
You crazy bastard, going after the Demon King?
He talked about building achievements.
Spouting an absurd dream, proposing something ridiculous. That day, I hesitated. But in the end, I took his hand. Figuring I'd been had, I followed him into battle.
A lot happened.
Really, a lot.
The battlefield was far heavier than we'd imagined. Far more hellish. It was hell, and it didn't take long for a single human to break there.
"We have to do it."
"You're the Hero, I'm the Sage."
"Everyone's risking their lives for us. So we have to. Running away was never an option. Fight like you're ready to die."
I became obsessed.
I hanged myself with sacrifice, duty, and responsibility.
"I—I can't do it."
"I'm scared. I'm scared too, Raniel!"
"What the hell is that? How are we supposed to fight that...? How do you fight numbers like that?"
Kyle wore down in hopeless battles.
Realizing he was nothing, that his dream was hopelessly naive—he broke quickly.
"Still, we gotta try."
"You can do it."
"Leave the back to me and just charge ahead."
But back then, I still had some leeway.
Every time he fell, I offered my hand again and again. I pulled him up time after time. Little by little, we advanced.
We racked up countless feats.
Kyle began to be called the strongest Hero.
"The Black Dragon—we hunted the Black Dragon!"
"That infamous disaster...!"
"How'd you bind the Black Dragon's feet? You're insane, Raniel!"
We achieved severing the Black Dragon's neck.
It felt like effort could accomplish anything.
"I can become something too."
"I can be special too."
We pushed forward, even as we wavered.
On my path forward, there was Kyle. Sometimes he stood beside me, sometimes he lagged behind—but he'd stand again and catch up.
Slowly, even if the road was long.
I thought we could keep going.
I thought we'd achieve our dreams someday.
I thought it could go on forever.
But that was a delusion.
We faced an enemy we could never beat, no matter what. An opponent with no solution. A terrifyingly strong foe. A monster that made death feel real just by facing it. That monster blocked our way.
Death's Blade, Ganikalt.
From the day we faced it, Kyle began to break. He tripped often, despaired often. Sometimes he even dropped his sword. He started ignoring his duty.
I offered my hand a few times.
But I couldn't keep doing it forever.
"I can't."
"I can't do it."
After facing the Demon King, Kyle shattered completely. At the end of his ruin, he never stood again. The moment I saw him like that, I couldn't extend my hand anymore. I was angry. Irritated.
Instead of offering a hand to pull him up,
I grabbed his collar.
Forcibly yanked him to his feet.
"Get up."
"Get up, you bastard."
Get up, I screamed.
I drove him with duty, saying we had to. Naturally, it was the worst way. That day, the path Kyle and I walked split completely.
"I'm not you."
"I can't do it, Raniel."
It was absurd. Breathless.
That's not it. That's not what you're supposed to say. What the hell do you think I am? Don't you get that that's not what I meant?
I had a lot to say.
A lot, but I couldn't.
By the time I could say it, it was far too late. When I finally reached out to talk...
Kyle was gone.
I grasped only air. That's when I realized it was far too late. All that remained was regret. Amid regret, I walked on.
If I look back, you're not there.
Our paths had completely diverged. I thought we were on the same road, but at some point, you were gone. Now, it was just me.
I thought it couldn't be helped.
Since I couldn't fix your twisted path, I turned away from you. Ignored you and walked forward. I thought I could walk alone, even if no one followed. No, I thought I had to. It was my duty.
I walked the path.
I lived my life.
As I walked, I realized a few things.
That everyone has their own path.
That you were walking yours too.
Galrahal's death finally let me understand you, even a little. Having understood, I wanted to talk again.
Like in the old days.
Like those truly happy old days.
But...
'Too late.'
I'm always too late.
That's just how it is with me.
I only lag in crucial moments. If I'd regretted it, I should've moved right away—why didn't I? Now I'm regretting again.
"You have a debt to repay."
"I have to repay it."
You charged ahead on your own, without giving me a chance to stop you, stand beside you, or follow. And the place you reached was right in front of me.
I thought we'd split for good.
Yet in the end, we were looking at the same scene.
In your own way, on your own path, you overtook me and went ahead. Then at the road's end, you looked back at me. As if telling me to follow.
"Damn."
All my life, staring at an empty road ahead, and now you're telling me to follow.
"You fucking bastard."
Everything's completely reversed now.
Thud.
I took a bitter smile and stepped forward.
Before I knew it, I'd arrived at my destination.
Lifting my head, I saw the firmly shut church doors. A dilapidated church. I sensed a presence beyond those doors.
After going in circles, I'd returned to the starting point.
Unlike back then, when I fell asleep and could do nothing, now I was awake. Standing firmly on my own two feet. It was as if the world was giving me a chance to make up for that day's mistake.
To seize that chance.
To move forward now.
I reached out toward the church doors.
Pushed them open.
After countless memories flashed by, I stood squarely in the present. With a creak and groan, the doors swung open. Eerie air rushed in.
Inside was a crumbling church.
Toppled and broken pillars.
The star adorning the ceiling was wrapped in chains and pulled down. The statue symbolizing the god tilted with its head blown off.
Things collapsed. Things desecrated.
Things that could no longer express their original intent or fulfill their roles.
Beyond them was the bastard.
He sat perched on the ruined altar at the church's deepest end. A holy sword pierced his heart, bound by chains.
Thud.
The moment I took a step toward him.
Twitch. His body jerked.
His twisted arm, bent at grotesque angles, began to move slowly. Watching, I took another step closer. As I approached, I reached a hand behind my back.
Tied up my loosened hair.
As I tied it and took yet another step, he wrapped his fingers around the sword's hilt. The holy sword impaled in his heart like a sheath. Its ornament broken, but the blade intact—he gripped it.
Creak, grind. Grating twist.
Something twisted with a sound.
Narrowing my eyes ahead, hands sprouted from his heart. Things blocked by the holy sword poured out as the blade withdrew.
Claws, a convergence of curses.
The shadow meant to curse and drag down the star gripped the holy sword alongside Kyle. It clutched and supported his twisted arm.
Squeeze.
Watching it, I pulled on my gloves.
To grasp what I failed to that day.
To seize the collar of the bastard trying to walk the wrong path and slam him to the ground. And so I'd never regret again.
Grip.
With a wet schlick, the holy sword's blade fully withdrew from his heart. Blood droplets beaded on the blade and flew.
Just before they hit the floor.
I kicked off the ground and charged.
Kyle kicked off the altar and charged too.
To kill each other, we sprinted with all our might.
The air trembled. Everything in sight crumbled.
All that remained was the enemy to slay.
Here I come, Kyle.
You fucking bastard.
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