The Hero Party That Still Hasn't Come to Its Senses
The hero party, still not having come to its senses. Humanity's last hope. The saviors of this suffering world. The beacon that would light the future of the Pangaea Continent, whose existence was threatened by the Demon King's army. The party led by Hero Leonhart was proceeding smoothly toward the border. Or at least, it couldn't exactly be called smooth. They were constantly wasting time bickering over every little thing.
"How is it possible that not a single person brought any food?!"
"My, my. Isn't that rich coming from you, Jeanne? Weren't you the one who only brought your weapon?"
"I'm so hungry... There aren't even any animals to hunt around here."
"I found some mushrooms over there."
"Yeah, those are poisonous."
"Really?"
"If Sharon says so, it must be true. Everyone knows elves understand every plant that grows in the forest."
"Ugh, then what the hell are we supposed to eat?"
"We brought plenty of travel funds, but there aren't any shops to spend it at."
"Isn't there a village nearby?"
"The closer we get to the border, the farther the villages are. That's obvious."
"Still, shouldn't we stop by a village to buy supplies? That's what we've always done!"
"Then you go."
"Who was in charge of meals again?"
"Wasn't it Werther?"
"........."
The name they didn't want to remember made everyone fall into heavy silence. In the early days of the expedition, they had even joked about him.
"Hey, isn't it peaceful now that that grumbler Werther is gone?"
"Right? This would be exactly when Werther would throw a fit about teleporting straight to the Demon King's castle."
"That crazy bastard, kek... Ah! It's so refreshing without that troublemaker around."
But as time went on, the atmosphere grew strange whenever Werther's name came up.
"The luggage feels so heavy... Why does it feel this heavy?"
"Isn't it because Werther always carried everything for us?"
"Oh... maybe."
"......"
"Where are we?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"You don't even have a map."
"No, seriously, where are we right now?"
"It feels like we're lost..."
"Doesn't anyone have a map? Or even a compass!"
"Werther usually prepared all that..."
"......"
"Hey, I caught a wild boar. How do we prepare this?"
"I have no idea."
"First... we skin it?"
"Of course we skin it. Who eats the fur?"
"Then what?"
"...Does anyone know?"
"Werther always butchered them by himself..."
"............"
"Ouch!! I got scratched by a branch! Does anyone have disinfectant?!"
"Doesn't Werther carry all the medicine?"
"He said it became a habit because of his little sister."
"Stop talking about Werther already!!!"
"............"
"Let's set up camp here for tonight."
"Who's going to do it?"
"...I've never set up a tent before."
"Me neither."
"Same here."
"Werther always set them all up... Oh."
"I told you not to talk about Werther."
"............"
They were realizing all over again that there wasn't a single part of their journey, from start to finish, that Werther's hands hadn't touched. Eating, traveling, finding shelter—Werther had handled everything. Now that they were trying to divide the roles among themselves, fights broke out constantly.
"Wait. Why do I have to carry your luggage? I'm the hero."
"Because you're the only man here, Hero... I'm specialized in healing magic. My physical strength is weak."
"No, I was actually trying to make you all carry my stuff?"
"My lord... What are you saying?"
"I'm the hero, so isn't it fine to make you run errands like that?"
"L-Leonhart. That's a bit..."
"Carry your own damn luggage, you idiot!"
"Cynthia! Are you really picking a fight with me, the hero?!"
"We're struggling too!!"
Group travel had always been full of inconvenience and hardship. The saying that leaving home means a dog's life existed for a reason. If the roles had been naturally divided from the beginning, there wouldn't have been any trouble. But they had grown used to a journey where all the hard, dirty work was dumped on Werther while they sipped the tea he prepared and enjoyed leisurely teatime. They couldn't adapt to this unfamiliar environment at all.
As they ate the soup Cynthia had made—she had lost rock-paper-scissors and gotten stuck with cooking duty—the flavor was so overwhelmingly like toothpaste that even Hero Leonhart suddenly felt a pang of longing for Werther. The others were probably harboring similar thoughts deep in their hearts, but no one dared speak them aloud.
Werther was a traitor. An enemy of humanity. They were the ones who had officially declared it at the imperial palace. To miss him now? They couldn't say it even if their mouths were torn apart.
"What's the problem with this soup? I think it tastes perfectly fine."
"Cynthia... This soup is a poison so vile it would make the merciful god Imir slap you across the face..."
"I'm seriously starting to debate whether starving to death or surviving on this soup would be more painful."
"What are you all talking about? This is mint chocolate, a trendy high-class dessert from the Valentine Kingdom! I think it tastes good."
Cynthia grew irritated with her companions, who did nothing but complain despite her efforts to cook for them.
——Something was creaking.
Clearly, something was different from before. Was it because Werther, who had handled all the chores, had disappeared? No. It was something else entirely, a strange sense of discomfort that even the dense hero party was beginning to feel bit by bit. A chilling anxiety that seeped into their chests like the biting wind of winter.
But for now, it was nothing more than a light worry. Before any large-scale battle, that level of anxiety was practically routine. No matter how confident you were, heading off to fight the Demon King's army would naturally dampen your mood. So Leonhart and his companions simply concluded that their minds and bodies had grown temporarily dull from the side effects of resting for half a year.
"The border is getting closer. Since we're not just subjugating enemies attacking villages, it'll be a harsh schedule where we handle our own food and shelter in rough terrain. Everyone, steel your resolve. From now on, monsters could appear anywhere without warning."
Yes. Monsters. This gloomy feeling had to be because of the monsters, not because of someone like Werther.
In the end, the hero party's purpose was the extermination of the Demon King's army. Whatever Werther had done was simple manual labor that any odd-job worker could handle for pocket change. The sacred duty of killing the Demon King's forces was the exclusive privilege of the hero party alone.
Even when Werther was with them, subjugating monsters had always been the job of the hero and his companions. Werther was nothing more than a meat shield who took the hits in their place and bought time for them to analyze enemy strength. That had been nothing but the cowardly hero's defensive idea. The other party members had long believed they could fight just fine without him.
After all, they had become strong enough to defeat most of the Demon King's army with nothing but a cough.
"This time the enemy is the Eight Protection Army. We've fought them before, so you all know how strong they are, right?"
"Yeah. We fought them back when Werther was still with us."
"Why are you suddenly bringing up Werther?"
"She's right, Cynthia. At the very least, defeating the Eight Protection Army has nothing to do with Werther."
"Back then Sharon killed one with a holy arrow in a single strike, Jeanne took down another with her masterful swordsmanship, and then..."
"Cynthia finished one with her magic, and for the last one, I—the hero—pierced the demon who was about to kill that idiot Werther with the Holy Sword. Now that I think about it, I should have just let that demon finish him off. Haha."
There was considerable distortion in that memory. In reality, it was closer to the hero delivering the finishing blow after Werther had painstakingly worn the enemy down.
"So in the end, it means we've already killed four of them. There's no need to be afraid."
"If we do it like last time, victory will be ours."
"We shall once again spread my lord's great name across the Pangaea Continent."
"Let's show them our party remains strong even without Werther! That bastard will be so jealous he'll cry!"
"...Well, we don't even know where Werther is anyway."
"What are you talking about, Cynthia? Wherever Werther is, what does it matter? Our story will spread across the entire continent. You know that."
"........."
Cynthia didn't answer Sharon. She simply stared into empty space with gloomy eyes.
Before they knew it, they had entered the heart of an uninhabited forest. The wind that occasionally blew from the cliffs carried the fishy stench of demons toward them. It was a sign that the battlefield was drawing near.
"By the way... what have you all been doing these past six months?"
"What about you, Theresa?"
"I met up with old friends and traveled. It didn't look like there would be any expeditions for a while, and I had money saved up."
"I returned to my hometown and spent time recharging with my family so I could serve my lord even more devotedly. My hometown is more underdeveloped than Lydorphia, so taking money from Lydorphia lets me live like a rich man. I had a lot of fun."
"I just stayed in the capital and went shopping. Elves have bigger appetites than humans, you know. The capital's market is huge, so there are plenty of foods prepared for elves."
"I spent the time treating the injuries that son of a bitch Werther gave me while going on blind dates with noble young ladies. Time really flew by."
"So in the end, you were all just playing around?"
"What do you mean, Cynthia? We're already strong enough. Training is unnecessary."
"My lord is correct."
"What did you do then, Cynthia?"
"Hmph... I just... read books."
"You're not any different."
Even after Cynthia's disdainful jab, no one showed any sign of remorse. If Werther had been there, he would have nagged them that every second counted and that they should train during their free time. But the hero party's consistent belief was simple: Why should we go through all that hardship when we get stronger on our own without training anyway?
Besides, the Eight Protection Army they were about to face this time was truly a pushover. Since they had killed four without much difficulty before, this was the perfect chance to kill four more, return home in glory, and wash away their disgrace.
"We were supposed to join up with the Imperial Army's base camp around here, but I don't see the liaison officer."
"My lord. Could it be that person?"
"Ah. Looks like it. Hey! Come out from the bushes! If you're not a suspicious character, that is!"
They had spotted someone hiding in the undergrowth observing the hero party. Caught, the man carefully emerged and asked Leonhart, who appeared to be the leader.
"...Are you the hero?"
"That's right. Who are you?"
"I am Atlas, a staff officer of the Imperial Army."
"That's a strong-sounding name. Are you any good in a fight?"
"Not at all... I'm a supporter specialized in detection magic. My field is magic that measures combat ability between demons and humans. Since the key to this battle seems to be taking down the officers first, I've been dispatched to the front lines."
"Oh... Then you'll get to witness our overwhelming combat power. Don't be scared, hahaha!!"
"..............."
"Don't worry too much. Just think of yourself as riding a big ship and relax. We've already killed half of the Eight Protection Army, so we'll wipe out the rest this time like we're going on a picnic."
"...I sincerely hope you do exactly that."
[F] [F] [F] [F]
[C] — Mage
The news that the hero party had previously half-destroyed the Eight Protection Army was widely known throughout the Imperial Army as well. Atlas, who had been sent ahead to the battlefield, had been eagerly awaiting their arrival at the rendezvous point.
Yet even though he had noticed their presence long ago, he had hesitated to speak first. The reason was simple. With his Status Eye, which categorized opponents' strength by rank, the hero party's levels had appeared before him.
They were trash. Practically civilians.
'...Why are these bastards so weak? They're literal garbage... Wait, is my Status Eye broken? There's no way the hero party could be this weak. We have to fight relying on these people...'
Atlas doubted his own eyes—which had never once betrayed their master in his entire life—while at the same time developing a powerful distrust of the hero party.
'If this is how things are... aren't we all completely fucked?'