Making a Hero (2)
The hero was a child who knew nothing. Well, that was only natural. There were no parents to teach him various things, and no adults around who could instruct him. Besides, in this era, schools for educating children were extremely rare. Maybe one in a big city, if that.
Even geniuses who could grasp ten things from one lesson were meaningless without someone to teach them that one thing. New knowledge always builds on existing foundations.
So.
"Let's start by learning to read and write."
"Pardon?"
I made a pair of non-prescription glasses and put them on, hung a chalkboard on the wall, and picked up a piece of chalk. The hero sat at a desk and chair, staring at me with a completely baffled look.
"You mean writing... like what the pilgrims wrote on those thin wooden tablets?"
"That's right."
I'd already spread Hangul across the world, but not every human could write. To write, you need something to write on. Without cheap paper, they had to use papyrus, parchment, bamboo slips, or thin wooden tablets... none of which were cheap. Wooden tablets were the most affordable, at least.
Thanks to that, common folk scratched notes on clay tablets or in the dirt, but clay was too heavy, and dirt wasn't a proper record.
I'd love to make papyrus cheaper and more widespread, but the Lizardmen had their limits too. They listened to me well and made a tidy profit from producing and selling papyrus... but they were already maxed out. Pushing production further would cause issues elsewhere, like food or monster control. Papyrus plants take time to grow, even as annuals—they need time to mature and spread seeds.
At least the Lizardmen had started farming papyrus from those seeds, and we'd seen some success recently. That was a relief.
Hmm, I digress. Anyway.
Paper was spreading as a recording medium, but literacy rates were still high because it wasn't widespread enough among the masses. The ruling classes seemed to sabotage it on purpose, but no comment from me on that.
Anyway, that's not the point.
I snapped my fingers, conjuring a ballpoint pen and smooth sheets of paper that didn't quite fit this era.
Ah, making things from memory is so convenient. The pen was a Monami, cheap and easy to write with. The paper that appeared with it was filled with Hangul consonants and vowels, plus several blank sheets.
We start with (giyeok) and (nieun), of course.
I handed the hero the paper and pen, then gripped my chalk.
"Let's begin with the basics. Since it's a language made by combining consonants and vowels, the fundamentals won't be hard."
Easy to learn, hard to master—that's Hangul for you. The basics shouldn't take long.
"Now, copy what I write into the blanks on your paper."
The hero awkwardly gripped the pen and looked at me. But he was holding it wrong—like a dagger in reverse grip with thumb, index, and middle finger. No good.
"Hold the pen like this."
I took it from his hand and placed it correctly in his right hand. His small fingers clenched tightly around it. His face flushed red, embarrassed by his mistake.
Blushing over something so minor. Such a kid.
"Press the black part on the back, and the tip will pop out. Use that to write. Don't grip too hard—just lightly."
I started writing consonants on the board one by one, watching his flushed face.
Come on, the Creator Dragon herself teaching the world's language. It's easy, so even this clueless hero should pick it up quick!
……That's what I thought, anyway.
"Hm. Well, no one's perfect right away."
Wriggling, earthworm-like letters. Twisted, distorted shapes. I knew instantly: this kid had no talent whatsoever. Beyond untalented.
He'd never learned before, sure, but this was ridiculous. Just trace with the pen, right? None resembled the proper forms. I didn't expect perfection, but they needed to be legible. Strokes were scattered, attached parts detached, detached parts attached. Was this Hangul or some hieroglyphic knockoff? Hard to tell.
Ugh... this won't be easy....
I swallowed that thought, forced an awkward smile, and said,
"Well, you're the hero. No one excels at everything. As long as you can read and write decently, that's fine."
"R-Really...?"
Heroes don't need to be master calligraphers. Basic literacy is enough!
The sword is what matters!!!
And if push comes to shove, I can follow him around, reading and writing for him. Easy.
The hero's sword sliced through the air toward me, grazing my cheek by a paper's width.
And then—
Shwick!
His blade plunged into the stone wall like a hot knife through tofu.
A threatening strike. Not that it'd scratch my skin, but still.
"Why... did you trip there...? There was nothing to catch your foot on...."
He'd stumbled on perfectly flat, empty ground, dropping his sword. Proof that raising this hero wouldn't be smooth sailing.
I knew he was hopeless with letters, but a klutz too? A tiny doubt crept in about my choice, then sank away.
"This is troubling."
I sighed briefly and yanked his sword from the wall. A huge greatsword, buried deep—the hole was sizable.
Whew... good thing no one was behind it. Disaster otherwise.
I brushed the hole lightly, and it sealed like rewinding time. Perfect.
I eyed the hero, sprawled motionless on the floor.
Hm... not a hard fall, but maybe unconscious? Or hurt?
"You okay?"
"Y-Yes... fine...."
A thin, meek voice. Clearly mortified at tripping on nothing.
"No one starts out perfect. Keep training hard, and you'll improve."
And...
"For now, we'll hold off on swinging that sword until your body grows more."
I'd just told him to try a practice swing, but not like this. Wait till he's bigger, muscles developed. That blade was no joke—accidents waiting to happen.
"Use a wooden sword for training."
I quickly crafted one identical in shape, with adjustable iron weights inside. Tricky to match the greatsword's balance perfectly, but it came out decent. Full weights made it identical in heft and center of gravity.
Sword later. Priority: feed him well, grow that body.
As I thought that, a small sniffling reached me.
"Sniff... sniff..."
"Crying over this, boy?"
"B-But... there must be something wrong, right? Me protecting everyone...? Something's off.... Why would the Life Goddess pick a weak orphan like me?"
Because you're a good kid. Strength can be fixed—with magic to accelerate growth or hard training. An unbreakable spirit that never quits? That's trainable too.
But a kind heart? Can't manufacture that. Forcing it would be brainwashing!
So.
"The goddess didn't choose you for your looks or strength."
"Huh?"
"She valued your inner self, not your exterior. Your kind heart. And your unyielding resolve."
"Kind heart..."
"I can fix the rest, but not that. Anyway, enough whining."
I handed him the wooden sword, weights removed. Durability enchantment added—no breaking.
"Your job from now on: study hard, train hard, eat hard, sleep hard. Got it?"
"Yes...!"
He wiped his tears and stood.
That's it. That's why I chose you.
I smiled as he resumed his stance.