The Most Beautiful Time of My Life
If someone asked Locke to name the happiest time of his life, he would answer without hesitation. Not when he was a noble, nor when he was the Hero of the Holy Spear. No—the days when he was simply a slightly talented soldier from an insignificant family. The times when he saved up his meager pay to buy the flowers she loved, then waited for her while avoiding prying eyes. Even if she might not appear until the night was over, Locke never found the endless waiting painful. Because the overwhelming joy he felt when that waiting was rewarded made everything worthwhile.
“Locke!”
The moment he saw her, he didn’t wait for her to approach. He ran straight to her and pulled her into his arms.
“…Natasha.”
Secret meetings held to avoid the watchful eyes of her noble family. When he kissed the lovely orange-haired girl, she would blush and reach out to him.
“Don’t try to sneak past me like that.”
“Ugh—!!”
“You volunteered for the war? Are you insane? Where do you think you’re going without me? Tell me right now that you’re too scared to go.”
“J-just listen to me… ugh?!”
“Talk before I break this. Three, two…”
It hurt enough to bring tears to his eyes, but Locke shook his head stubbornly. As always, she was the one who eventually gave in to his stubbornness.
“You bastard.”
“……Natasha, I’m not joking. That place is really dangerous. Our future child might disappear.”
“You going off to the battlefield is even more dangerous. Do you think you’re some hero of the century? You really believe the undead will just avoid you?”
Locke patted her trembling back, comforting her. He loved this honest side of her—the violence, the lack of decorum, the way she cried without shame.
“Can’t we just save the money slowly? I can wait as long as it takes…”
“Natasha.”
Locke knew. Unlike him, she had been born the second daughter of a respectable noble house, and she didn’t have much time left. A year? A month? A week? Perhaps even tomorrow she could be sold off in a political marriage.
“Just this one job and it’s over.”
The Abaddon expedition. The dazzling debut of the Hero chosen by the Holy Spear. If he returned from participating in it, Locke would finally be recognized as a quasi-knight, combining it with the merits he had already accumulated.
“Once I become a quasi-knight, I’ll sell my status right away.”
It was an ambiguous position between commoner and noble, but there were plenty of people who wanted even that.
“If I add the savings I’ve gathered so far to the amount the person who promised to buy my status will pay, it should come to about ten gold coins. It’s nowhere near enough as a dowry to take Natasha, who was raised in a noble family, but…”
Natalia pressed her lips to the bouquet of white roses shining under the moonlight that Locke had prepared. It was a better greeting than any words. She silenced his continuing speech with a kiss and pulled him down with her.
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Locke.”
“It’s okay.”
“So…”
Under the moonlight, she looked more beautiful than ever.
“I’ll take responsibility and make sure our child’s future isn’t ruined.”
That night was, without question, the happiest night Locke would never forget.
What was it that caused everything to go wrong?
Thanks to the information from the previous Hero of the Holy Sword, who had already faced the Black Sun, the undead subjugation had been proceeding smoothly. The undead under the influence of the Black Sun were certainly strong, but by following their prior training, casualties had been kept to a minimum.
However, once they passed the outskirts of Abaddon and advanced into the central region, the losses began to grow to a level that could no longer be ignored. When everyone was suggesting they should retreat, the Hero spoke up.
“In the end, the problem is that sun, isn’t it? If we just get rid of that blasphemous sun, the undead’s strengthening will disappear too, and we’ll be able to conquer the depths of Abaddon!”
The newly chosen Hero of the Holy Spear was not satisfied with subjugating only a few hundred undead. The Heroes of the Holy Sword and Holy Spear could not help but be compared to each other, and so, conscious of his rival, the Spear Hero threw his weapon toward the depths that even the Sword Hero had never reached.
Toward the Black Sun.
The anomaly began from that moment. As if that act had crossed a line that should never have been crossed.
Locke himself didn’t remember much of what happened after that. What he did remember clearly was the black flames that covered the world. And the voice that came from the sky.
“You pathetic humans. We played along with your commands, and now you don’t know your place and run wild.”
“Rejoice. Because of your arrogant actions, our King has grown furious.”
“Receive His flames and meet a death far beyond what you deserve.”
After that, it was hell. In the midst of a pandemonium where it felt like the entire world was trying to kill him, Locke simply struggled to survive. The Spear Hero was trampled to death beneath a wave of undead, and the Holy Spear that had lost its master happened to fall in front of him. With no knowledge of what it was, he grabbed it purely to survive.
And so, Locke was chosen by the Holy Spear.
The expeditionary force had numbered around ten thousand at the start. Yet fewer than five hundred returned alive. And even that number would have been impossible if Locke hadn’t used the power of the Holy Spear solely to carve an escape route for survival.
The expedition meant to raise the Hero’s fame ended in utter defeat, with the Hero’s death yielding no achievements at all.
…It should have ended that way.
“From now on, you are the Hero.”
“……Pardon?”
“The Hero of the Spear was you from the beginning. There was never any Hero who died while subjugating Abaddon.”
He was not permitted to say he couldn’t do it. Because the Emperor of the Empire had given the order himself.
“Hero of the Spear, Locke. The Hero who ‘single-handedly’ invaded Abaddon, witnessed the power of that demon, and returned alive. Congratulations on your survival. You have accomplished a great feat.”
With the Emperor’s words, the fate of those five hundred lives was decided. Locke could say nothing.
‘Natasha.’
He couldn’t even utter her name.
Without knowing how time was passing, he met a woman called the Saintess.
“You really do have a tragic fate, don’t you?”
“……I…”
“Accept it. From now on, that spear belongs to you.”
“I never wanted something like this.”
“Everyone says that.”
The woman known as the Saintess wore an expression more worn than his own and smiled coldly.
“You cannot let go of that spear. There are only two ways to release it. Either you die, or the Demon King dies and the war ends.”
“If I kill the Demon King… if the war ends… then it’ll be over?”
“Haha.”
She mimicked laughter in a dry, emotionless voice and spoke as if to say, do it if you can.
“Go ahead and try. Your compatibility with the spear is good enough that you can wield it without my permission. You might even be able to kill the Demon King.”
With a voice that held no expectation whatsoever, the Saintess left. Under strict escort—surveillance—Locke was sent to the battlefield to fight monsters. He had only one goal.
To kill the Demon King as quickly as possible and end the war.
‘Natasha……’
Just wait a little longer. I’ll become the Hero who killed the Demon King and come back to your side. It doesn’t matter if you’ve married another man. As long as your heart hasn’t changed, that’s enough for me.
First year. The war did not end.
He had grown accustomed to using the Holy Spear and was slaughtering monsters at a speed incomparable to before, but there was no end in sight.
Second year.
“Hero!”
“Hero of the Spear, Locke!”
“The strongest Holy Spear in history!”
Everyone cheered his name. The burden on his shoulders was unbearably heavy, but at least one small comfort had appeared. Inside his tent, clutching the Holy Spear, he thought of her.
‘Natasha.’
The Holy Spear would turn toward the rear on its own. The spearhead pointed toward the distant backlines of the battlefield. He was simply grateful that he could feel her like this every day. The war still showed no sign of ending.
…Third year. He caught a glimpse of that woman from afar. The Saintess, Iris. They didn’t speak. But he was bothered by how unwell she looked. If the Saintess left the war, killing the Demon King would become even more distant. He could only hope she would hold on as long as possible.
……Fourth year.
“Why is there no support?!”
“We can’t help it either, Hero. I hear the Saintess suffered a fatal wound in the last battle. The front line managed by the Holy Kingdom takes priority.”
“We’ve pushed this far! After sacrificing so many lives and so much time!”
“Retreat.”
The war that had seemed nearly over began to drag on once again.
…And then, the fifth year.
“Why?”
The Holy Spear wouldn’t move at all. No matter how many times he tried. Even when he threw it, it simply flew a few meters like an ordinary spear and stuck in the ground.
As if the target Locke sought no longer existed in this world.
“No. That can’t be.”
What had he been enduring all this for? What had he been holding on to see?
“Hero! Enemy attack!”
“Enemy… attack?”
“They’re flying-type monsters! We desperately need your help, Hero!”
“……I’m coming now.”
He had hoped the Holy Spear was simply broken. He had hoped he was no longer worthy of being a Hero and had lost the ability to wield it. Yet while it pierced the heads of the flying monsters perfectly, it could no longer find the one person Locke wanted and had lost its power.
“That was the last one…! As expected of the Hero!”
“The Hero will surely kill the Demon King one day and bring an end to this war!”
“……End.”
‘What meaning does that have now?’
The cheers and admiration lost their light. As always, Locke mechanically reached out to retrieve the Holy Spear. The spear that had pierced and impaled the skull of the falling monster flew back toward him like a bolt of lightning.
‘What went wrong?’
Was it following the Abaddon expedition in the first place without knowing his place? Or was it not running away immediately after somehow obtaining the Holy Spear, because of a sense of duty to return it and report what he had seen and heard?
Shhhk—!!
“Hero? The spear’s momentum is…”
Or was it that day? The hand that had grabbed the Holy Spear that fell before him because he wanted to live.
Was it this hand that had been wrong?
Thud—!!
“W-what is this!”
“Medic! Medic!”
‘If I had listened to you that day.’
If he had listened when she said she could wait as long as it took, that they should take it slow. Would a different future have been waiting for him?
Locke slowly opened his eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling. A throbbing body.
[…♬]
In his hazy memories, the song she used to sing. A white skeleton sat politely on the chair beside the bed, humming that tune. Listening to it, Locke thought:
‘It’s a dream.’
Because he had never been able to find her remains until the very end, his lingering regret had created this dream.
“…Natasha.”
The singing stopped. Locke smiled faintly and spoke to the skeleton gazing at him.
“Even with only bones left, you’re still beautiful.”
The skeleton froze. He felt a pang of regret that he couldn’t see her expression. She would surely be blushing shyly like always…
[Bullshit.]
The skeleton’s fist slammed into his abdomen.
“Cough?!”
[If you’re awake, get up right now. You need to get hit more.]
“N-Natasha…?”
Grabbing the collar of the bewildered Locke and lifting him up, Natalia warned him in a menacing voice.
[Call me Lady Natalia, you piece of trash.]
And without a moment’s hesitation, she hurled Locke out the window.