Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: EP.3 I Am Not a Hero
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The idea that the world was saved with the Demon King's demise was something you'd only find in fairy tales for children.
That made sense, because even before the Demon King appeared, the world was overflowing with monsters.
The Demon King was merely an entity that empowered those monsters and led them.
As such, the kingdom still had to maintain its armies, regulate adventurers, and fight monsters on the front lines.
Of course, slaying the Demon King wasn't meaningless.
The monsters were far weaker now than when the Demon King was around.
But.
Even so, the monsters remained plenty strong enough to kill humans, so the Hero Party couldn't leave the battlefield even after the Demon King's defeat.
"Then, the Swallo Plains sector will be handled by Hero Claire and the others, understood."
"...Yes."
In the tent at the very front lines, where they fought those monsters, Hero Claire gave a slight nod. The general, who had spent a long time on the battlefield battling monsters, was quite serious, curt, and intimidating.
She should have been used to it by now, but she couldn't help feeling intimidated in front of high-ranking people.
That was because, during their journey to slay the Demon King, someone else had always handled these matters.
"Any needs or requests?"
"Ah. That is... support from priests for, for recovery..."
"That's... sorry. But didn't you manage to accomplish the critical mission of slaying the Demon King without priests?"
"That is..."
"We ask the same this time. Every time priests leave their posts for recovery duties, the front lines could collapse."
It wasn't wrong, but it wasn't right either.
They prioritized maintaining the front lines and refused to spare priests for those entrusted with vital missions against enemy assaults.
That hypocritical, contradictory stance.
At the general's cold words, concerned only with themselves, Claire bit her lip slightly.
Sensing her unease and dissatisfaction, the general bowed his head.
But there was no choice.
He knew what had happened to the priests and support troops he'd previously assigned to them, and now there weren't even volunteers left.
"We ask for your help. Many soldiers here believe in you."
What would he have done?
He surely would have protested and gotten angry here, in her place.
But he was gone now.
So, with a melancholic voice tinged with self-mockery, Claire murmured.
"...Yes. And the Sage..."
"We're requesting the Adventurer's Guild to look into it."
"...Could I go check myself?"
"I won't stop you if you really want to, but... haven't you come back empty-handed several times already? The Guild says he checked in person but ignored them."
"Th-that can't be."
"It's true."
The general let out a heavy sigh, then drove his sword into Claire's chest, where faint hope still lingered.
"I saw it with my own eyes."
"...Ah."
"Well. I have to return to the capital soon anyway. Check again then. Now, about the next sector..."
They exchanged a few more words after that, but she barely heard them. In this meeting too, Claire only realized her own inadequacies once more.
After the long meeting ended, Claire stepped out of the tent with a haggard face.
With each step on the ground stained with mud and monster blood, her white boots grew increasingly dirtied.
Her once smooth, pristine skin had roughened, and the ends of her hair were splitting.
And the biggest change of all: her orange eyes, once like the sun, were gradually losing their light.
It was too much.
It was exhausting.
It was frightening.
All sorts of negative emotions and stress piled up, but Claire couldn't show it.
He had it harder.
Entering one of the better tents among those on the battlefield, Claire bit her lip hard and collapsed into a seat.
It was a far better tent than those from the Demon King slaying journey, but the interior was deathly quiet.
A better bed, a better table.
The tent, used by her alone, felt awfully spacious.
But they were gone.
Leventia, a member of the Hero Party, was fighting elsewhere.
Evangeline wouldn't return to the front lines for a while after being injured in the last battle.
And.
And.
The Sage too.
He, who had always been by their side, was already gone.
No one was left.
The situation had improved since the Sage left, but that only made the loneliness and pain feel even greater.
"Hoo..."
Letting out a sigh, Claire barely stood and sat on the bed. Her hand gripped the rare, fluffy down comforter hard—something hard to find on a battlefield.
Compared to the worn sleeping bag the Sage had prepared, it was far colder.
The tighter she gripped the blanket, the faster her mind raced.
What had gone wrong?
What had she done wrong?
Clutching her mind, on the verge of collapse, Claire arrived at the answer.
No, she already knew it.
'Sage...'
After drawing the Hero's sword, proving herself the Hero, and vowing to slay the Demon King and save the world.
With the exceptional knight Leventia and the excellent archer Evangeline.
She'd formed a party with the two she'd long been connected to and made a promise to slay the Demon King.
No matter what, they'd stick together.
No matter the hardships, they'd slay the Demon King.
That's when they made their oath at the Tail Tavern and raised their glasses—that's when they first met him.
He, with his dazed expression, staring at them and asking to join the party.
But the divine blessing governing past, present, and future was bestowed only upon the three.
So they couldn't accept him.
But he.
The man who called himself the Sage smiled and said he didn't need the blessing, and followed the party anyway.
He just wanted to lend his strength to the Hero Party in toppling the Demon King.
After that, he took on the role of the Hero Party's supporter of his own accord.
She was sorry.
He couldn't even receive the blessing.
She was grateful.
He helped them without asking for anything in return.
What had they done to him in return?
With trembling hands, she pulled a small picture from her bosom. A precious painting in a frame.
It was drawn not long after their journey began.
After defeating the Demon King's first subordinate, they'd commissioned a clumsy painter in a village as a memento.
Looking at the painting, Claire squeezed her eyes shut.
Though the colors had faded.
In the painting, herself, Leventia, Evangeline.
And the Sage—all wore very happy smiles.
When had the laughter vanished from the party?
If she had stopped Leventia and Evangeline from berating the Sage, could they have kept those smiles till the end?
As a child, lying on the plains under the starry sky like a blanket, she'd heard from her father. The Hero Party's journey was romantic.
A beautiful journey to defeat the Demon King, the enemy of the world.
But reality was different.
Camping in harsh terrain was routine, and the Demon King's attacks to hinder the Hero were relentless.
There were times when nobles who'd promised support tried to use the Hero Party to protect themselves.
They often had to pass by villages suffering from monsters, unable to stay because they needed to move quickly.
What was romantic to some was torment to them.
As the journey dragged on, their hearts wore down, and the vague courage forged that first day at the Tail Tavern shrank rapidly against reality.
In that fearful, lonely, agonizing journey, it was the Sage who healed them.
He prepared spots for them during camps.
He made delicious meals with scant funds.
When they couldn't stop at villages, he somehow hunted game, feeding them even if it meant he starved.
In a party without priests, he handled recovery, and sometimes fought alongside them.
When nobles tried to exploit them, he stepped forward to block them and guide them right.
Was that all?
Whenever their hearts wore thin, he made them laugh with his bizarre lute playing.
After grueling battles, he eased them with silly jokes.
When they had to abandon the small to avert greater dangers.
When they had to ignore pleas from villages to save them.
He'd smile kindly, saying he'd stay behind so they could handle the bigger task.
Because of him, they could feel a touch of romance in that harsh journey.
But.
Why did they do that to him?
"Haaah..."
There were many excuses she could make.
Their hearts had worn down.
It was tough.
And.
The Sage never left, no matter what they did.
When they spat curses and despaired from the grueling journey, instead of thanking the one who comforted them, they lashed out at him.
The proud, arrogant elf archer hurled vicious words at the Sage who comforted her wounded pride, hurting him.
There was more.
When he managed their limited funds meticulously to prepare appetizing meals, they refused to eat.
The next day, after screaming that such food was boring and wailing, he comforted them with even better dishes.
The day after they tired of his lame jokes and cursed him out, he went to find a clown to learn better ones.
The Sage always smiled, always positive.
And toward him... what had they said?
Her sharp mind dredged up the past. The cold, mercilessly excavated memory of wounds was an icy lump too frigid to touch.
We're suffering.
We're in such pain.
Why can you smile? they berated him.
You don't know.
Unlike us, burdened with this mission and blessing, forced into this agonizing journey, you know nothing.
You're not suffering at all.
When they reached their limits, Leventia and Evangeline unleashed a torrent of abuse at him to protect themselves.
Even abuse that would have broken her heart—the Sage just smiled, unchanged the next day.
Sorry for his stoicism, they only grew worse.
It had to be that way.
Their complaints and dissatisfaction.
In the heavy mission to slay the Demon King, he was the only one who tolerated their whining.
And what had she done then?
Her body trembled at the loathsome disgust summoned by the cold memory.
Claire gripped her arm tightly.
So tightly that her white skin tore under her nails, red blood trickling down, but she couldn't care.
He must have hurt more.
The Sage, who took on the duties she ignored, must have had it harder.
It was the leader's—the Hero's—duty to soothe and guide the original party members.
Yet Claire hadn't done it.
She couldn't.
She was suffering too.
She feared being hated.
She couldn't bear others' pain and despair when she was struggling herself.
So she turned away.
She averted her eyes from the Sage's whining, armed only in pure goodwill without reward.
Without considering how hurt he was.
Ignoring that he, without blessing or mission, followed solely for them.
He'd be fine.
He chose to follow.
If it was really bad, he'd have left, but he didn't.
Leaning on that convenient, sweet sophistry.
Even she, who called herself the Hero but lacked the courage to face her party's hatred, ended up whining to him.
But he finally left.
He who'd supported and cheered them from behind throughout the journey.
No matter how ugly or ridiculous they acted, he stayed positive.
Now he was gone.
If only he'd cursed them out before leaving, she might feel a bit less guilty.
But even in leaving, he cheered them on.
"Aaah..."
She should have stopped it.
Stopped their baseless berating and blame.
Lightened his burden.
Done what the Hero should have.
Done what the leader should have.
I didn't mock him.
I didn't berate him.
I didn't torment him.
From the darkness hidden deep in her heart came a whisper, and Claire painfully answered.
"But I..."
I ignored his pain.
I disregarded his cries.
I did nothing.
Didn't mock, berate, or torment him.
Did nothing.
Didn't help him, stop the others, or share the burden.
To protect herself, the darkness desperately cried out.
I was suffering too.
I was in pain too.
At least, unlike them, I didn't burden him.
But the truth remained: she had been a mere bystander, turning a blind eye.
In the end, she too had committed a grave sin against him.
She'd joined in ripping open the huge wound carved in his heart.
An innocent bystander?
No.
Just a sly one, tainted by the base desire to avoid hatred even from a suffering Sage.
Her mind, deriving the answers she'd ignored, tore down her heart.
What it carved from guilt's ice was a single tear.
The Hero let it fall naturally into eyes like the sun.
"Hic... Hic... Hic..."
Why did I do that?
Because of fear.
Wasn't he truly suffering?
She recalled him groaning in his sleep.
Mumbling in his dreams to send him back, that he wanted to leave.
She knew his pain.
She knew his torment.
Yet I.
I just...
"...Hic... Hic... I'm sorry... Sorry... I'm sorry..."
She was afraid.
She couldn't muster the courage.
What kind of Hero was she?
What kind of courageous one?
When she ignored even the pain of one supporting them out of goodwill.
She knew.
Even after drawing the Hero's sword and receiving the god's blessing.
She was just a timid country girl.
Hiding behind the Hero's power and divine favor, but ultimately a weakling kid with a bit more strength.
A fool terrified of hatred, pretending to be the good girl.
Claire tried to wipe the tears streaming from her eyes, but like a broken faucet, they wouldn't stop.
Even after crying so much yesterday.
No, ever since the Sage left, she'd wept nonstop from regret, despair, guilt, self-loathing.
Yet the tears still wouldn't stop.