I Misjudged the Genre
I had been mistaken about the genre.
“Sorry, Leon. I have other plans today….”
Oh.
“Huh? Why would I wander around the market with you? You can handle that much by yourself!”
Aha.
“Umm~ Sorry! I have somewhere I need to be today, so I won’t be able to hang out with you!”
I had definitely realized it. This wasn’t a harem fantasy. It was an NTR genre, wasn’t it?
I had been living an utterly ordinary life when I was suddenly born into another world. I became aware of that fact around the time I turned eight. At first I was dumbfounded, wondering what the hell was going on, but as I searched my memories I recalled a conversation I’d had with a friend right before reincarnating.
“If someone gave you a hundred billion but a murder snail followed you around forever, would you take it?”
I had naturally said I would. After all, what could a snail possibly do? It was just a snail.
That was exactly where I went wrong.
This world was, astonishingly, one where the Snail Demon King was leading the demon race in an invasion. I never imagined the murder snail would turn out to be a Demon King.
I quickly gave up and examined the circumstances of my birth. Since the murder snail was real, it stood to reason that the hundred billion should have been real too. But I was born with no wealthy parents—just a pitiful orphan. At best, the villagers took pity on me and gave me food and an empty shack. In fantasy terms that might count as luck, but by the standards of someone who had lived in the modern world, it was nothing but misfortune.
So the snail follows me but I get nothing? Isn’t it wrong to implement a balance game like this?
While harboring those complaints I somehow survived until I was twelve.
“Ooh! A divine blessing!”
“The birth of the Hero! The Hero has been born!”
“Heavens!”
As if to soothe my discontent, a brilliant light descended from above the clouds and struck our house. Every minor wound I had received from running errands healed instantly, and I felt vitality surge through my entire body. Soon my black hair turned into lustrous white, and my brown eyes became radiant gold.
In other words, I had been chosen by the Goddess—the sole object of faith—and became the Hero.
At that point I thought, Ooh! Finally! and my heart fluttered with excitement at the story that was about to unfold.
The first to shatter that illusion was Serin, a girl from the same village.
“Leon! No matter if you’re the Hero, you should take it easy with your training!”
The girl with short red hair had a moderately slender build and a lively personality that was quite charming. Even before I was chosen as the Hero, she would often come to me, share bread, and keep me company. A year before I was chosen, she made rings out of wildflowers, we wore them on our fingers, and promised to marry each other someday. Honestly, I don’t think any man could remain unmoved by a childhood-friend promise in a fantasy world.
In that unfortunate life I had found a sliver of happiness, and when I became the Hero she volunteered to be my comrade and joined me on the road to the capital. As the daughter of a hunter she had some talent with the bow, and thanks to my strong insistence she was recognized by the Emperor’s knights as the Hero’s support.
Thus began my life as the chosen Hero.
The person who planted the second illusion in me was Airen, the Saintess of the Holy Kingdom, Saint. Airen was the same age as Serin and me. She was famous for having been born with brilliant, vast divine power. Signs had shown from childhood, and by her late teens she already possessed a quite sensual figure. Her brilliant platinum-blonde hair tied in a braid and her deep blue eyes held the power to make any boy her age’s heart race.
“Did your palm tear open again…? Really….”
Born as the Goddess’s Saintess and possessing the Eyes of God, she always walked with her eyes closed. Yet whenever I was hurt she would approach without fail, as if she saw everything, and cast healing spells on me. She said she could feel endless death and agony from the direction of the Demon King. On nights when the new moon rose, she would sometimes sneak into my room claiming it was frightening without light and sleep beside me.
She always used polite speech, which made her seem more mature than other children her age, while Serin was the spoiled tomboy who acted cute in response.
And the one who completed my illusion was Tei, the genius mage from the Magic Tower. She wore her purple hair in long braids on either side and looked at me with captivating purple eyes. She had joined the imperial palace around age fifteen during the formation of the Hero party, and her trademark was a constantly grumbling tone.
“If you’re weak then I’ll be the one who suffers! Train properly!”
Later, when we set out on adventures, she would pack snacks for the sake of her own comfort, and that part was rather cute. Born as a half-elf with pointed ears, she had smooth white skin and a small frame. She seemed dissatisfied with her own physical development, but since I wasn’t particularly obsessed with figures, I actually found that side of her even more endearing.
Because she was an orphan like me, I felt we shared similar pain. Sometimes she would secretly call me out, vent her irritation, then tightly hug my waist. If I asked what was wrong while she teared up, she would shout at me to stay quiet as a bonus.
“Divine Hero Leon, raise your head.”
“…Yes.”
“From this day forward, the twenty-year-old adult Leon shall be officially appointed to the position of Hero and shall receive treatment equivalent to that of an imperial viscount!”
“Yes!”
Time flew by. Until I turned twenty I trained under the palace’s supervision. In particular, Sword Master Kellyban’s training left memories so grueling I never wanted to repeat them.
Life outside of training was hardly smooth either. To be honest, many parts of this world were seriously off track. The Revanhart Empire, which moved first the moment I was chosen as the Hero, was obviously riddled with corrupt officials. The Emperor who had originally promised treatment on par with a duke had yielded to bureaucratic pressure and lowered it all the way to viscount.
If you weren’t going to treat me properly, why say it would be duke-level in the first place?
Moreover, the Holy Kingdom of Saint that I saw through Airen didn’t seem like a proper organization either. In truth, the Holy Kingdom—which should have supported the Goddess’s Hero even if it meant going into debt with the Empire—had only sent Airen and nothing more. And they hadn’t sent her out of consideration for me, the true Hero. The bishops whose positions were threatened by the existence of a natural-born Saintess had conspired to drive her out.
Still, I endured it. Why? Because after encountering Serin, Airen, and Tei, I had fallen into one enormous illusion.
This place… it really is that famous fantasy world!
On the day the Hero party was formed, I believed without a shred of doubt that this world was a harem fantasy genre. And that conviction began to crack as I entered the fifth year of my life as a Hero.
The frontlines against the demon race. The reason the nations of the continent, which had waged countless wars over territory, had agreed to a massive truce. One day the Snail Demon King Lu Carcol suddenly appeared and began invading the world with slow but overwhelming force.
Having come of age and formed the Hero party, we immediately set out on our journey. At first it was light work—rescuing remote villages plagued by monsters. There was no great difficulty.
“Haaap!”
The Sword Master had said I possessed talent on a historic scale. Thanks to that, even though I had not yet reached the Master rank when we left, I already possessed enough power to subjugate most demonic creatures alone.
“Volcano!”
“Goddess, grant your blessing to all!”
“Twin Shot!”
Moreover, since my comrades were all talented in their respective fields, our adventures proceeded smoothly except for the occasional mistake.
Then came the third year.
“…Ugh.”
“Sorry, I’m feeling a bit unwell today.”
As we joined the main frontlines, their attitudes gradually changed. At first they had trembled at the horrific scenes yet tried not to lose their sense of justice. But that was only in the beginning.
Around this time I started wondering whether original fantasy had always been this brutal a genre. Of course, blinded by the title of Hero, I couldn’t maintain that suspicion to the end.
“Hueeeeng…! Hero, my mom…!”
A young girl clutched my trouser leg and pointed at the collapsed house where her mother had been crushed to death. Countless people who were not regular party members but had volunteered to help the Hero’s cause died at the demons’ hands.
I felt a sense of duty. And I felt guilt. I corrected the mindset that had been content to simply enjoy myself thinking this was a world inside a harem fantasy.
“I’m sorry… Hero, may I rest today?”
Yeah.
“I told you I’m not feeling well!”
Yes, that’s right.
“I… just want to rest a little.”
I understand it’s hard. That’s why I understood them. Surviving on this frontline was difficult, and perhaps because I liked them. So even when they had more days of rest than days of fighting, I didn’t blame them. I would simply become stronger. As the Hero, I just needed to push myself harder.
Thus came the fifth year.
It was the moment when the frontline—once nothing but chaos and ruin—had been somewhat stabilized, the demon race’s momentum broken, and an unexpected semblance of order had arrived.
What is this?
Why were Vincent, who had joined as a mere cart porter, and Serin strolling together around a flower shop?
Why was Airen blushing while the archbishop who had once abandoned her groped her backside?
And what exactly was happening that Tei was trembling in the back-alley brothel district, covering her body with a cloak?
From the high spire of the capital, I dropped the Holy Sword—its blade chipped and its light faded—and finally understood.
“Puhahaha…!!”
Laughter burst from my throat. So that meant—
I no longer had any reason to endure.
You’re all dead now.