The Hero, Burned at the Stake at Last
The cries of the soldiers echoed across the battlefield like a death sentence.
"Kill him!"
"I agree. No forgiveness. Just thinking about how we got fooled by this bastard makes me sick!"
"He didn't just trick us—he tricked the entire world!"
"You son of a bitch! I trusted you and lost my arm! What are you going to do about this?!"
"Honestly, if we'd known the Hero was this weak, we would've handled things differently."
"Half our side is dead. Dozens of people died because of him!"
"The Hero must be punished, no question."
"Kill him!"
"Kill him! He has to die!!"
The conclusion, born from the bitterness of betrayal, the grief of losing comrades, and pure hatred for Leonhart's arrogant personality, was execution.
"This fucking bastard..." The battalion commander's gaze was ice-cold. He had grown up obsessed with fairy tales about heroes and often daydreamed about becoming one himself. Of course, that was a phase every boy on the Pangaea continent went through. Still, how much had he looked forward to actually meeting the Hero he'd only dreamed about?
Even when Leonhart threw tantrums while drinking, the commander had tried to understand. But if the man's skills were absolute garbage, there was no room for sympathy.
With the stern face of a proper officer, the battalion commander stood before the Hero.
"C-Commander! Please stop them. No matter what, I'm the Hero. Killing me is a bit... If word gets out that you're Hero-killers, none of you will escape unscathed."
"So now the polite speech comes out. You were spitting informal crap just a minute ago. And even in this situation, you still resort to threats. It really drives home the truth that some people can never be fixed."
The battalion commander spoke loudly, making sure his subordinates could hear.
"We won't get away with killing the Hero? Isn't it the opposite? Considering your personality, you'll never reflect. You'll blame everyone else for everything. Right now we're on the battlefield, so we can intimidate you. But once we return to the capital, the situation changes. We're imperial soldiers—public servants. You're the Hero."
Everyone recalled how Leonhart had abused his authority the night before.
"You'll probably start taking revenge on us. But if we kill you here, it's just something that happened during the war. We can smooth it over somehow. On the other hand, letting you live and come after us is far more dangerous."
The battalion commander pointed the tip of his sword at Leonhart's swollen, beaten face.
Even while suffering collective lynching, the only thing in Leonhart's head was the plan to tattle to the emperor later and have every soldier present executed for treason. The commander's guess had been spot on.
"...We really do have to kill him."
"W-wait a moment!!"
Saintess Theresa, who had been cowering, interrupted with a trembling voice. The saintesses dispatched from the church glared at her with eyes full of contempt, and the others' reactions were equally cold, but she continued anyway.
"No matter what, he is the Hero. Was your loyalty to him all a lie?"
"Who the hell would respect a retard like him?"
"H-he wields the Holy Sword Exode and was officially chosen as the Hero through divine oracle! If the Hero disappears, the light of humanity will go out too. Only the Hero can kill the Demon King... You all know that, right? Are you fine with humanity being defeated by the Demon King's army?"
"What nonsense. A guy who can't even beat an orc is going to defeat the Demon King? If this bastard lives, we're finished. Better get revenge before we all die."
"Please come to your senses! I admit we showed an unreliable side today, but that isn't our real strength! We must have been... off today. Yes! It was just a condition issue! If you give us a chance to restore our honor, we'll recreate the performance we showed when we defeated Bael!"
"Atlass already rated your party as F-rank, and you're still whining about condition? You know how precise the Gauss family's status window is, don't you? It's the best in the empire. That's why they joined this expedition. We all trust Atlass's evaluation. You lot are pathetically weak and the greatest con artists in history."
"That can't be...!!!"
Theresa turned her gaze toward Atlass, who sat with a complicated expression, eyes closed. The status window was the pinnacle of detection magic mentioned even in magic textbooks, so of course she knew about it. It was the only mana-measuring artifact with over 99% accuracy, but it was a power passed down only to the head of the Gauss family. Their academy instructor-turned-priest had told them not to covet it. She never imagined that famous status window would put them in such a predicament.
I can't believe it... Our rank is F? That's... the rank new apprentice nuns just entering the church would get. With our skills, shouldn't we be at least A-rank? We've gotten so much stronger all this time.
It felt like a nightmare. What on earth had happened? Wasn't this supposed to be a light outing? Hadn't it been the first step to easily crushing the Eight Protection Army they'd half-killed before and launching the party's counteroffensive?
Even if their bodies had grown dull after lazing around for half a year, sucking this badly against goblins was strange. This was definitely not a condition issue. Something weird was going on.
At last, the Hero Party began to realize that they could no longer display the same power as before. The reason remained unknown.
Jeanne and Sharon trembled like aspen leaves, gripped by terror.
M-Master is going to die? Then... next is... us? N-no! I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die!! I'm scared! Why why why did it turn out like this? Was I never actually stronger? Am I still just the pathetic Jeanne after all? That can't be... Hic. Why did I suddenly get so weak? What's the reason?
The others might survive, but as an elf, I'm definitely going to die. Aah... or maybe I'll be sold back into slavery. I should have listened to Mother and never left the forest for the rest of my life. But why can't I use the sacred arrows anymore? I used to clean up dozens of goblins or orcs with a single sacred arrow. What's wrong... Why... What's causing this?
No matter how much they thought about it, no answer came. The Hero Party watched as Leonhart was tied to the cross, thinking they would pay any price to regain the power and skills that had suddenly vanished like a lie.
"W-wait, everyone! I really reflected! From now on, Leonhart will listen to anything you say! I won't even dream of revenge! I'm serious! So please don't kill me!! I want to live!! I want to live, waaaaah!"
The straw cross was a torture device originally used to burn witches. To the Hero's eyes, the battalion commander holding the torch looked like a demon.
"Huk! I've lived sincerely for humanity's sake, so why do I have to die? What crime did I commit... Waaaaah! This is unfair! It's unfair!! No one in Pangaea's history has ever died as unfairly as me!"
"...This bastard really does need to die."
"You demon! Murderer! You're actually from the Demon King's army, aren't you, you son of a bitch! Waaaaah! Killing someone as innocent as me—how can you still call yourself human?!"
Seeing that he still refused to reflect on his wrongs until the very end, the battalion commander shook his head and set the cross on fire.
The straw caught instantly. The moment the heat reached his shoes, the Hero wailed more miserably than ever before.
So this is how I die.
His life flashed before his eyes like a panorama. The days he'd spent living like a coward as the thirteenth son of a low-ranking noble. The times he'd gotten beaten by his older brothers while bragging about becoming the Hero and cried his eyes out. His father clicking his tongue, saying the boy was too scared to ever become a real man...
But the moment the temple mentioned Leonhart as the next Hero, his brothers and father had groveled before him, and their power dynamic completely flipped. Ah, that had felt so good...
After becoming the Hero, all he remembered was working for humanity. Really, he hadn't done anything wrong to anyone. Looking back on his memories... at least, that's what Leonhart himself believed.
Ah, now that he thought about it... there was one person he had deliberately tormented. Of course, that bastard had brought it on himself.
Werther... that rude porter bastard.
That guy had been a real pain in the ass, a thorn in his side. Leonhart had zero intention of heading to the Demon Continent or fighting the Demon King. Well, as the Hero he would eventually have to fight, but that was something for at least thirty years in the future. The emperor had told him to "protect Lydorphia well," so just wandering around that area and acting tough would be enough to maintain his dignity as the Hero.
But that bastard kept pestering him to go to the Demon Continent. No, the real reason Leonhart had hated Werther so much was because the party members had subtly come to depend on him psychologically.
Cynthia, Sharon, Theresa... even Jeanne would secretly talk with Werther alone and smile with genuinely happy faces. Leonhart had tormented Werther more out of jealousy.
Still, that guy had stubbornly insisted on the Demon Continent and the Demon King until the end. A bastard who couldn't do anything useful had such a high nose.
"What are you so confident about? We're nice, so we let you tag along. Our party would be perfectly fine without you."
"Keep dreaming. Want me to make a prophecy? If I really disappear? The next expedition will be your last."
—The words Werther had said to him long ago floated up as his final memory.
It really turned out exactly like that bastard said. Back then I thought he was just being spiteful... Did he actually know this would happen?
...No. That can't be.
More importantly... am I really going to die?
The flames had burned through his shoes and were now reaching toward Leonhart's skin. The scorching heat and the smoke from the burning straw had already driven him beyond terror and out of his mind.
"Save me! Anyone, please just save me! If you save me I'll do whatever you tell me to! Aaaaaaaaagh! It's hot! It's hot! Aaaaaaaaagh!!!"
The life of the Hero—the last sword protecting humanity—now hung by a thread.