Prove It
The next day.
Warm sunlight bathed the spring day. The main gate of Arjen Academy had unusually been opened to outsiders. Crystals placed throughout the academy glowed, announcing the event that would take place today.
The Hero Selection Test will be held at noon in the academy’s central training grounds.
Under the auspices of the great Sun God Lua, please bear witness to the test with a devout heart.
The three nations of the southern continent had already begun preparing the moment they heard that a new Holy Sword had been discovered. They dispatched their vassals and observers stationed near the academy to pay close attention to the results of this Hero Selection Test. Thanks to that, the academy was far more crowded than usual. Perhaps even more so than during the Sun’s Sabbath Festival….
Most people were simply astonished by this bizarre rumor and the test itself. It all sounded far too much like a dream, so they couldn’t quite grasp the reality of it.
“A Hero Selection Test…! Is this for real?”
“No way. After five hundred years?”
“What kind of Holy Sword story is this, anyway?”
“Hero Arjen was a legend, but… the world no longer needs the Holy Sword. His mana manipulation techniques have all been developed into standard knightly arts.”
“The Hero of the Holy Sword is nothing but a relic of the past.”
“And an awfully expensive relic for a commoner to be holding.”
Some people sneered. Others carefully analyzed the political implications behind this spectacle.
“The Holy Theocracy must be getting desperate. Putting on this pointless performance just to flaunt their influence…”
“Are they just going to drag out some random commoner and put on a cheap magic show?”
“They’re reading way too much into a kid who merely awakened an artifact.”
“Just a commoner nobody.”
“What could he possibly do?”
People no longer placed much significance on the Holy Sword. Five hundred years had passed since Arjen’s death. Five hundred years. That was more than enough time for myth to become ordinary legend. The light of the Holy Sword had been left behind as nothing more than the childish dreams of boys and girls, while only the historical truths within the myths were studied.
—The Hero’s movements were muscle activation through mana!
The godlike movements Arjen had displayed in the myths had been thoroughly analyzed as “mana manipulation techniques.” Now, those with talent could reach the realm of Flow and replicate similar movements.
—The Hero’s swordsmanship was mental projection through mana!
The flames that had blazed from the tip of Arjen’s sword had become the goal of many as “mana swordsmanship.” Now, renowned swordsmen could reach the realm of Ignition and demonstrate mana sword techniques.
—The Hero’s shining blade was the ultimate realm!
The realm of Brilliance. It was a state permitted only to an extremely small number of geniuses. But.
Someone could reach that place even without the Holy Sword. The Hero had stood at the pinnacle of the sword, but he was not an unreachable sky. Even after Arjen’s death, countless Sword Masters had appeared. If that was the case….
What exactly was the meaning of a Hero?
Why had the Holy Sword revealed itself once again?
People wondered.
*
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
The training grounds, which usually only echoed with Instructor Jacques’s shouts, were now so loud it felt like the entire world had gathered there. The noise was deafening.
Lydia let half of that clamor wash over her.
…Well, it’s probably just the academy students cheering because most of their classes have been canceled, mixed with the excited shouts of merchants who came purely out of curiosity.
Lydia leaned comfortably against the wall beside the waiting room entrance. Unlike usual, she wasn’t wearing training clothes. She had on the academy uniform with a cloak bearing the Swordsmanship Department’s emblem draped over it. It was the full formal set that students were expected to wear on occasions requiring decorum. Her golden hair shone brilliantly against the white and blue cloak.
Normally I wouldn’t have worn this except for graduation, coming-of-age ceremonies, or festivals… but since we’ve moved the event forward, I suppose I’ll be wearing it more often.
“…”
Beside her, Morgan and Mave stood with their arms crossed, dressed in similar attire. All three of them seemed unaccustomed to this atmosphere; their faces were stiff.
“…”
“…”
Inside the waiting room—a space originally meant for changing into protective gear and undressing—only Arty sat alone. He was dressed simply, wearing only a plain training uniform beneath light armor and leather protective gear. He kept his head lowered, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. The gauntlets on his hands felt stiff.
I bought these with the money I earned recently, so the texture still feels unfamiliar.
“…”
He clenched his fist with all his strength. Tight—
It didn’t feel real. It was as if he were swinging his fists in a dream, floating somewhere far away. Or perhaps… the entire situation itself still didn’t feel real.
Am I really the Hero? Or am I just a country boy who happened to pick up a sword and met some incredible people, causing me to misunderstand everything? Maybe the Saintess simply made a mistake and was kind to me by coincidence?
“…”
He couldn’t be certain. So Arty spoke to the golden-haired girl standing in front of the waiting room. She had always guided him as steadily as the North Star.
“Lydia.”
“I’m here.”
“…”
Her voice was low for a woman. Hearing it somehow calmed him down.
“…”
She was a strange girl. She had a feminine figure and a delicate appearance, yet for some reason she looked so incredibly strong that he couldn’t help but want to follow her. And when he remembered her status a moment later, he felt a chill run down his spine.
She really is terrifyingly strong…
Along with that thought, respect bloomed in his heart even before his first love. Could all the Gallia royalty be like this? She was the first true knight and mentor he had ever met.
…That’s why I didn’t see her as a woman at first. She’s a hundred times more beautiful than the lovely tavern girls my country brothers used to talk about.
Arty asked her.
“Lydia, am I truly the Hero?”
“Hmm.”
But what came back was an unexpected question.
“Do you not want to be the Hero?”
“?”
Arty lifted his head at the strange reply. But Lydia continued.
The girl, dressed more formally than ever, had her back turned to him, and her figure looked utterly noble.
“Arty. Is it painful to be pushed in front of others simply because you picked up a sword? Is it painful to receive harsh training at the command of a strange woman?”
“…”
“Is it unfair that, simply because you took up the sword, you must protect others instead of being protected?”
“…”
Arty shook his head.
“No. I still don’t fully understand what exactly I must fight as the Hero… but at least I don’t regret walking this path yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve gained so much. Learning from you is enjoyable. I’ve come to want to become a Sword Master. Even though I’m a commoner, I’ve adapted well to the academy…”
And.
Arty smiled faintly.
“…And because I met the Saintess.”
“If you return to being an ordinary farm boy, you may have to give up all of those things.”
“…”
“Do you want to let them go?”
“No.”
Absolutely not.
Arty clenched his fist tightly once more. The feel of the gauntlet had become more familiar than before. Lydia spoke.
“If this path had not been right for you, that night in the forest I would have thrown away the Holy Sword I found and pretended not to have seen it. Then I would have given up as well.”
“…”
“If this path had not been right for you, you would have thrown away the daily pain that felt like death and run away from training. You already knew by then that I would not punish you for it.”
“…”
“If this path had not been right for you.”
Lydia smiled.
“You would not have been able to awaken the Holy Sword in front of the skeletal rider to protect those people.”
“!”
“Arty, you are already the Hero. So asking whether you are truly the Hero is as ridiculous as me asking whether I am truly royalty. It’s such an obvious question that it would only make your friend feel awkward and nod along.”
“I see.”
“Then let us change the question.”
“?”
Arty stood up. Beyond the waiting room door, he could see Lydia. She turned to face him.
“Do you have the resolve to continue training with me every dawn, just as you have until now, without ever changing?”
“…”
“Do you have the resolve to never pass on the responsibility of protecting Aria, the Holy Sword, and the people to others?”
Arty clenched his fist with all his might. The leather of the gauntlet was now soaked with sweat and no longer felt unfamiliar. Tight—!
He answered.
“Yes!”
“Then go and prove it.”
Lydia spoke with her usual firmness.
“I will be watching.”
“…Yes!”
Arty headed out of the waiting room, still slightly nervous. Mave gave his shoulder a light punch. She was dressed more femininely than ever, yet her face was exactly the same as it was during their dawn training sessions.
“Do your best, country boy. If you really are the Hero, I don’t feel too bad about it. I can get even stronger standing next to you.”
“Yeah.”
Morgan glanced at Arty, then walked over to stand beside Lydia and spoke with a pout. She couldn’t simply ignore the mockery about commoners that Arty was hearing.
“Try hard, you trash. The ones who overcome that kind of ridicule are the ones who win.”
“…Yeah.”
Leaving the two of them behind, Arty walked forward. Toward the brightly lit exit at the end of the dark corridor….
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
“…”
And toward the testing ground where she would be watching….
“…”
Saintess, please watch over me from there.
I can no longer give up. I’ve learned, experienced, and felt far too much. So I will dare to prove myself.
“…I will become the Hero.”
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
“…”
Arty’s voice was still drowned out by the roar of the crowd and couldn’t be heard clearly. So he silently continued forward. Toward the arena bathed in the intense sunlight just before noon.
*
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
The spectators cheered. In the center of the arena stood a white altar. On top of the white altar, the great emblem of the Sun God had been reverently placed. Beside it stood the Heresy Inquisitor and the Prayer Priest, both wearing solemn expressions. The Prayer Priest declared with solemn dignity.
The Hero candidate shall now approach the altar!
And the beautiful silver-haired girl—Saintess Aria—sat on an ornate chair beside the altar in an elegant white dress, watching over everything.
“…”
It looked as if the central cathedral of the Holy Theocracy had been transported here. The spectators murmured among themselves as they watched the scene.
“It really does look sacred.”
“My goodness, even the renowned Heresy Inquisitor is participating? Isn’t he a hero of the Holy Theocracy? And a distinguished orthodox theologian Prayer Priest has come as well.”
“It seems the Theocracy is truly serious about this test.”
“This feels like we’re witnessing something truly monumental.”
“Hmph, they’ve certainly put effort into the appearance. So the position of Saintess was chosen just to have her attend events like this…”
The path leading to the altar was also filled with solemnity. Dozens of Holy Knights who had followed Raoul and Edrian stood in orderly ranks. The commoner boy who would be tested as the Hero candidate walked down that path. Every time he took a step, the Holy Knights standing beside him parted to make way. It was as if he could only proceed because the Theocracy permitted it, not by his own will.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
“…”
Arty walked silently until he stood before the altar. The Prayer Priest stood in front of him. Unlike the withered-tree appearance he had shown at dawn the previous day, today his deep eyes burned with such intensity that it felt like flames were blazing within them.
He really is a terrifying person… The pressure feels like standing before a representative of God.
His eyes met those of the Heresy Inquisitor standing beside him. The man smiled gently and greeted him.
“…Heh. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your sincerity from the Saintess. You seem to be quite a hardworking boy. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard the Saintess speak so much about someone else.”
“…”
For some reason, the greeting didn’t feel welcome. He felt the sudden urge to turn his head and check the truth by looking at Aria’s face in the distance. But she was too far away for him to clearly see her expression. Just as Arty was about to say something, the Prayer Priest once again declared in a solemn voice.
“Before the first test, we shall first confirm whether your Holy Sword is an object that does not go against the will of the Sun God, and whether it is an object that contains the Sun God’s flames.”
“…Yes.”
“Place your right hand, the one bearing the mark, upon this altar.”
“…”
Arty silently placed his hand on the altar. Flash—!
When he placed his hand on the white altar, the mark on Arty’s hand glowed white. The Prayer Priest then declared.
This Holy Sword is indeed genuine. We shall now begin the test.
“!”
“The first test is the ‘Path of Proof.’ We must confirm whether you possess a body and mind strong enough to continue your duty as the Hero even in unreasonable situations. This qualification shall be verified here through sparring with ten Holy Knights!”
The spectators cheered upon hearing the declaration.
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
Ten of the Holy Knights standing in formation drew their swords in unison. The action was almost perfectly synchronized. Their blades sparkled brilliantly under the sunlight.
Shing—!
Arty swallowed hard.
“…”
Every single one of them is in the realm of Flow.
To spar with ten people like this….