The Hero Party's Weakness Exposed
The fact that the Hero Party was actually weak had been exposed.
“Leonhart, you bastard! Get up while I’m asking nicely!!!”
“What the fuck is this?! Did he really pass out from that hit?!”
“Is this some kind of operation? Battalion Commander! Did you hear anything about this?”
“Operation my ass!! Fight again!!! If you don’t want to die, we have to fight!!”
“Goddammit! If we survive this, the first thing I’m doing is beating the shit out of that so-called hero!!”
The so-called hero lay sprawled out with his eyes rolled back, while the orcs and goblins remained, clashing with the imperial army in a brand-new battle. The base camp quickly transformed into a horrific battlefield drenched in blood.
The overwhelmingly powerful nation of Lydorphia—located farthest from the Demon Continent—had enjoyed a geographical advantage that left them almost completely unconnected to any previous invasions. For them, this was nearly their first taste of true combat.
“Aaaargh! My arm!! My arm!! Somebody pick up my arm!!!”
“I can’t see… Fuck. Mom…”
“I should’ve just stayed home and farmed! Volunteering to be a soldier was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done!”
“Weren’t we just supposed to be rear support for the hero? Why the hell do we have to risk our lives like this?!”
“Shut your mouth and fight! They’re not unbeatable!!”
It was true. While humans and demons were never meant to be even matches, the skill gap between elite imperial soldiers and the lowest-tier Demon King’s army was actually quite narrow. If they fought with everything they had, they stood roughly a fifty-fifty chance. This was real war—flesh torn away, bones shattered, eyeballs bursting from sockets, comrades who had been alive moments ago now reduced to corpses rolling across the dirt.
Orcs swung clubs that caved in the skulls of praying saints. Even as they watched their comrades’ heads fly off, the saints kept chanting, pouring healing magic over the warriors. Their clasped hands trembled violently, urine soaked their robes, yet the prayers never stopped.
The soldiers at the front lines had taken so many injuries that it was impossible to find anyone still unscathed. Even as goblin claws and teeth ripped their skin to shreds, they kept swinging their blades.
The female knights tasked with guarding the hero moved in chaotic disarray, unsure who they were even supposed to protect. One of them—the woman who had knelt before Jeanne the night before—shouted with a face twisted in fury.
“Dammit! Why are we the only ones fighting?! The hero… no, forget the hero—what the hell is the rest of the Hero Party doing?!”
—In truth, the Hero Party was fighting in their own way. It simply wasn’t noticeable.
“Holy Arrow! …Huh?”
The arrow Sharon the elf fired flew pathetically before flopping to the ground on its own.
“That’s strange… My prayers aren’t working at all…”
Teresa’s prayers failed to heal a single soldier’s wound. When that happened, Jeanne—who would normally have charged forward and sliced enemies in two—bravely swung her sword, only to miss the back of a completely off-guard goblin’s head. She was nearly killed by the counterattack. One of the knights she had abused the previous night saved her, but the look he gave the panic-stricken Jeanne as she fell on her backside was said to be as cold as a snake’s.
“Th-this is weird. M-my sword isn’t working at all… H-how did this happen? Even my lord was defeated… Wait, doesn’t something feel off about all of us?”
Only Cynthia managed to lead the mages in something that actually resembled a proper battle.
“We need to kill the orcs before the goblins. You all know fire magic, right?”
“Yes, Lady Cynthia!”
“Then on my signal, launch Fireballs at their heads as accurately as possible!”
When Cynthia swung her conductor’s baton, the mages fired in perfect unison. One orc collapsed, engulfed in flames. Its limited intelligence couldn’t figure out how to extinguish the fire clinging to its face. Cynthia continued targeting the orcs this way, steadily reducing the enemy’s main fighting force. As their numbers dwindled, the tide of battle shifted dramatically in the imperial army’s favor.
In the end, even the last goblin was stabbed through the heart by the battalion commander’s blade. The dawn battle ended in victory for the imperial forces.
“Why… why won’t the Holy Arrow appear?”
“My prayers aren’t working. Why… why won’t they…?”
“I’m scared… Mom… help me… sob.”
“Ugh… Ow, my head. What the fuck just happened?”
—However, the Hero Party’s true crisis was only beginning.
After the battle ended, the mustached battalion commander shoved his face close to the hero, who had finally woken up and was rubbing the lump on his head.
“Hey, Hero. You really can use that Holy Sword, right?”
“The hell? My head’s already pounding and you’re starting shit. Ow…”
“I’m thirty years older than you, so how about you drop the casual tone?”
“What? How dare you speak to the hero like that! Someone seize this insolent fool!”
“…………….”
As Werther had pointed out many times, Leonhart fundamentally lacked any sense of his surroundings. Even now, when every other party member was quietly keeping their heads down, he alone failed to read the room and started shouting. He possessed a remarkable talent for burning away whatever goodwill anyone still held toward him.
“Seize my ass.”
“Is that guy seriously the hero?”
“Looks suspicious. Maybe the Holy Sword is fake too?”
“W-what are you people saying? How dare you doubt me, the hero? I am the true hero personally sponsored by the Emperor himself. Even if I let my guard down and got ambushed, how dare lowly creatures like you try to act as my equals?”
“Oh? So you’re saying you can show your real skills as long as it isn’t an ambush.”
The battalion commander, head wrapped in bandages, drew his sword again despite his unhealed wounds. It was nothing but a cheap iron blade bought from a blacksmith at a night market—nowhere near the Holy Sword.
“W-what are you doing? A mere soldier dares challenge me, the hero?”
“Not a mere soldier. I’m an officer, thank you. And I told you to stop speaking casually, you wet-behind-the-ears brat.”
“You dare give orders to the hero?! Fine. I’ll correct your insolence with the Holy Sword Exode, you old bastard!”
The duel between the battalion commander and the hero began without further ceremony. And the hero was crushed. Miserably.
The battalion commander didn’t even bother using his sword. He simply punched Leonhart, shattering the bridge of his nose. His front teeth broke and dangled loosely.
“Aaaagh! Fuck!! I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding from my nose! Healing magic! Someone cast healing magic! Saints! What are you doing?! Pray for me, the hero!”
“…It’s over. Humanity is finished.”
Watching the so-called hero of humanity rolling on the ground after a single punch, the battalion commander could only sigh in utter disbelief.
“To think we called a pathetic child like this the hope of mankind. I want to punch my past self for ever admiring you.”
“What the hell?! He’s actually weaker than the battalion commander? That’s the real hero?!”
“I’m spreading this for sure! I’m reporting it to every newspaper!”
“I feel completely scammed… No, the entire world got scammed…”
“Why did His Majesty the Emperor choose someone like that as the hero…?”
“Trash in both personality and ability.”
Around that time, Atlas appeared and added the final blow—that the Hero Party’s combat rank was nothing more than F. The atmosphere grew even colder.
Even the idiot Leonhart finally realized he had no allies here. His previous arrogance that had pierced the heavens vanished, replaced by the groveling, pathetic expression of a bullied kid getting shaken down by a thug. It was quite the spectacle.
Not only Leonhart, but the entire Hero Party was forced to kneel together and face interrogation. Imperial soldiers surrounded them, applying heavy pressure.
“How the hell did this happen? You guys are insanely weak. You’re telling me you killed Bael?”
“W-we really did! My lord stabbed Bael with Exode and killed him for sure!”
“Jeanne, shut your damn mouth. Want me to shove your face in the toilet like before?”
“H-how dare you speak that way to me, a knight of the Hero Party…”
“This loser bitch still hasn’t learned her lesson. Hey, where’s the women’s bathroom? Let’s drag her there and bully her exactly like we did back at the knight academy.”
“S-stop! Please!!”
“It was weird from the start that a loser like you was even in the Hero Party. This whole thing was a fraud group, wasn’t it? Hey. How much of our tax money did you bastards embezzle? Hey! Hey!”
Jeanne was paying the full price for the abuse she had dished out the night before. The more slaps landed on her cheeks, the more her face reverted to the groveling, timid expression from her knight academy days when she had been called Cowardly Jeanne.
“Stop… please stop hitting me… Ow! Aack!”
“I told you a long time ago. Being a knight doesn’t suit you at all.”
“Hic… hic… please stop hitting me. I’m begging you. I-I’ll give you money… I’ll buy you bread… please…”
“Heh. Yeah, there’s the real Jeanne.”
When he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up, Jeanne clasped both hands together and desperately begged for forgiveness. That sight—completely without pride—was exactly who Jeanne had been before meeting Werther.
The other party members fared no better.
“Lady Teresa. Is it true your prayers had no effect whatsoever?”
“The strength of divine power is proportional to one’s faith.”
“Does that mean you abandoned your belief in God after joining the Hero Party?”
“I’m sorry, but upon returning to the church, I will request a religious trial for you.”
“Prepare yourself for a heresy inquisition.”
A heresy inquisition was essentially an appeal that presumed guilt from the start. The trial would be a mere formality, and the stripping of her saint status was all but guaranteed. Teresa could only tremble, muttering in confusion, “No… that’s not it… no…”
Sharon’s situation was even more pitiful. Since she wasn’t even human, not a shred of sympathy was offered to the elf.
“Hey! Let’s just kill this bitch!”
“Elves don’t even need to be taken to court, right?”
“Just kill her, you fucking cunt!”
“What? Holy Arrow? Your arrow hit my shoulder, you stupid bitch!”
“N-no, that was a mistake—Kyaa!! P-please don’t stab me with the spear!! It hurts!!”
Elves had always been hated subhumans, treated as nothing more than trade goods and slaves across the Pangaea continent. Sharon had only received respect because she belonged to the Hero Party. Now that illusion had shattered, it was only natural the soldiers treated her with brutality.
Only Cynthia was spared rough handling thanks to the mages’ protection. After all, she had a second identity as the princess of Lydorphia, making her someone the imperial army could not afford to mistreat carelessly.
Fuck… fuck… fuck…
The one more terrified than anyone else.
How did things turn out like this? Why am I losing to some old man like that? Why? Why the fuck why?
The one carrying the heaviest responsibility.
W-wasn’t I a genius? Wasn’t I the hero chosen by God who grows stronger even while slacking off?
The one who would face the most severe retaliation.
“Fuck, this doesn’t make any sense! This is a dream, fuck! Aaaagh!”
“I believe I told you to watch your language. Your punishment will be decided starting now.”
—It was finally the hero Leonhart’s turn.
Hundreds of rage-filled eyes glared at him. Leonhart frantically sent pleading glances toward his party members, but they were all too busy trying to save themselves. Cynthia in particular seemed almost relieved that things had turned out this way, maintaining a completely detached attitude.
Realizing no one would help him, the hero was now nothing more than a stripped-bare coward.
“A-am I completely fucked now?”