Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Hero Party (Former) Supporter (1)
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It happened when I was seventeen.
The age when I should've been diligently attending high school, nose to the grindstone with my studies.
Well, whether I actually studied or not is another question.
Back then, I didn't have a single dream to chase, let alone hit the books.
Just your typical delinquent kid, the kind who drove his parents up the wall.
That was me.
That day, too, I'd ditched the cram school my folks busted their asses to pay for and was loitering around the PC bang.
Looking back now, why was I so damn full of myself...?
'Immature as hell.'
What if I'd skipped the PC bang and gone straight to cram school that day? Would everything have turned out differently?
Would the ground have suddenly split open, flipping my world upside down?
'...Fuck, still gives me the chills.'
My teeth chatter just thinking about it.
No, it's more than that—my jaw clenches so hard it feels like blood tears might stream down my face.
When I came to and opened my eyes, I was in the middle of a desert slave market. Sold off as a gladiator slave.
The only reason I fetched a price? My limbs were all intact.
Right after the sale, they branded me with a red-hot iron. I faced threats from fellow slaves eyeing my ass. Forced workouts lasting ten hours had me seeing my life flash before my eyes.
Every day was pure hell.
'All that crap about getting skills in another world? Total bullshit.'
I'd dabbled in isekai fantasy novels and games, harboring some romantic notions about other worlds. But this one? Nothing like that.
No skills whatsoever. Bloodlines ruled everything.
In other words, a society where class and power were predetermined by noble birth or race.
For commoners like me—no, slaves—we lived worse than pets.
Back then, suicide crossed my mind more times than I could count.
But survival instinct is a scary thing.
When push came to shove, the raw desire to live made me train like a maniac and even commit murder.
As the gladiator gig implies, I had to fight humans in the Colosseum.
Humans weren't the half of it.
Lions, wolves, and other beasts were standard fare. I even battled goblins and orcs—monsters I'd never laid eyes on before.
Looking back, I have no clue how I survived those fights.
But as my mind wore thin and my body screamed in protest, instinct told me: the next match would be my last.
I wanted to live, but in this fantasy world where even human rights were stripped away and crowds decided life or death, my future looked brutal.
Still, being a stubborn bastard, I rolled the dice to survive.
'I staged a revolt.'
Spartacus came to mind.
The Roman gladiator slave who sparked a revolution.
I knew I wasn't on his level, but I had to try if I wanted to live. And coming from 21st-century society, I could at least talk circles around these barbarians.
No fancy rhetoric needed—just like Korean politicians, I sprinkled false promises, tugged at heartstrings, and let my mouth run.
The next day, the Colosseum gladiators rose up with me. We killed the arena operators, looted some loot, and bolted.
For about two years, I stuck with those gladiators, fighting and scraping by, until we escaped the desert kingdom. Then we scattered to our homelands, ending my gladiator saga.
But quitting the gladiator life didn't end the need to eat.
If anything, it was a fresh start.
First town I hit, I covered my slave tattoo with a new one.
Saw it in some old comic—escaped slaves laundering their pasts that way. Spent good coin on a triangular pattern tattoo.
Three more years job-hunting in cities, and somehow I'd become a veteran adventurer and mercenary.
Bitter truth: those horrific gladiator days toughened me for this harsh world.
With some savings and breathing room, I started hunting ways back to my original world, traveling far and wide.
...Surprisingly, there was a way.
Honestly thought there'd be zilch.
'The Hero Party.'
Join the Hero Party.
More precisely, rack up enough achievements in toppling the Demon King.
This world—Midgard—saw a Demon King emerge every century. The five kingdoms' goddesses would anoint saintesses and heroes as proxies to slay it.
Form a party, defeat the Demon King, and the goddess grants your wish.
Hearing this,
'This is it!'
I trembled with joy.
Applied to my kingdom's Hero Party trials. Beat 5,000-to-1 odds—like landing a mega-corp job—and made the cut!
'...As a Supporter.'
Supporter in name only; I was basically the pack mule.
No matter how skilled a veteran I was, the Hero Party was a gathering of prodigies.
Most had insane bloodlines or races.
Snagging even the Supporter spot was a miracle.
The hiring pitch said it all:
-You can read and keep books? Good enough.
Literacy hovered around 10% here.
The other 90%? Illiterate masses.
'Now I get why this world's so backward.'
Knowledge equaled class and power.
No intent to share it with commoners, who they wanted kept dumb.
For a commoner who could read? Prime spec.
Handled letters, ledgers. Adventurer-merc hybrid worker bee.
That was my role.
Five years as Hero Party Supporter later...
BOOM!!
......We'd defeated the Demon King.
"Great work, Hero!"
"You were amazing, Saintess!"
"Ahaha!!"
"We did it!!"
"Hooray! Hooray!!"
The Hero Party cheered. Surrounding soldiers roared in shared triumph.
Watching it all, I—Luke, no, Han Yuseong, the Hero Party Supporter—
"......Fuck, it's finally over."
—could only slump down, exhaustion trumping any joy.
A mirror reflects my face.
Only twenty-seven, prime of youth, yet my skin's dark and leathery. Crow's feet crease my eyes. Hair's thinning patchy.
Doesn't look a day under fifty.
—Hahaha!!
"......Lively bunch."
The royal palace.
A miracle for a lowborn like me to even enter. Hero Party Supporter status made it possible.
Now, a grand banquet raged in the palace hall.
Made sense. First among five kingdoms' Hero Parties to fell the Demon King.
We earned the "real" Hero Party title. For the nation, prestige as the one that birthed it. Royals would milk the celebration.
Laughter from outside proved the king reveled.
But I skipped the banquet.
Courtesy invite, anyway. No one'd miss me.
"Time to go."
Normally, I'd savor the opulent interiors for some R&R. No time now.
Everyone—nobles, comrades—drunk on festivities. Only chance I'd get.
Minutes later, a ornate, solemn temple appeared.
The royal temple, housing the five goddesses' "true" statues, exclusive to the five kingdoms' palaces.
The sole place to commune with gods. Tomorrow, every party member but me would enter.
"Halt, who—"
"—Out of my way."
Thwack!
KABOOM-!
Knocked out the two guards before they could blink. Pressed on.
Same story after.
Downed every challenger with one strike. Soon, the goddess statue loomed.
Holy site for worship.
Han Yuseong dropped to one knee without hesitation and prayed.
"Goddess Io, ruler of war and peace. Hear the prayer of this pitiful lamb and grant reply."
Prayer done, time passed. Clouds parted. Three moons gleamed.
"Yes, Goddess."
A voice too beautiful for human ears, divine silhouette emerging.
Yuseong clenched his fists and continued.
"This lowly lamb dares appear before you, Goddess, to speak. Though I didn't slay the Demon King myself, I contributed plenty as a Hero Party member. Surely you, watching from the heavens, know best."
"Thus, I humbly ask: grant this lamb's wish."
"The king, nobles, and my party have no plans to bring me here. A commoner—nay, untouchable like me—gets no audience with you."
"Thus, I risk rudeness to seek audience. Please, grant my wish."
"...Th-thank you."
My body shook, heart pounding.
Finally! Finally!!
How long I'd yearned for this day!
"...Send me back to the world I came from."
"Then...?"
WHOOSH!!
"Aah!!"
Divine light enveloped me.
This sensation!!
'Just like before!'
Exactly like when I came to Midgard!
"...Thank you, Goddess."
"Pardon?"
WHOOSH!!
—The world flipped.
Honk honk!!
"...Hah!"
Familiar car horns, exhaust fumes. Bright streets despite the evening!
"I'm back! I'm home!! Haha!!"
I screamed in joy, laughing like a madman.
Passersby stared like I was nuts. Didn't care.
Who else could grasp this feeling?!
Excitement, joy, emotion surging uncontrollably, I laughed till a sudden disconnect hit.
"My voice...?"
So young?
That's when my pocket buzzed.
"Smartphone?"
Lost ten years ago, how?
Answered hesitantly. Mom's familiar nagging poured out.
"Where are you instead of cram school?! Your dad and I sweat blood for your education, and you...!"
"M-Mom?"
"When you get home...!"
"Mom!!"
"...Son?"
Tears burst forth.
Like a dam broken, endless tears and sobs.
Now I understood the goddess's "recompense."
'Thank you! Thank you, Goddess!'
Han Yuseong returned—not just home, but to his seventeen-year-old boyhood.
After a decade, dried-up tears soaked his cheeks anew, hot and fierce.