〈 Chapter 249 〉 The Most Heroic Hero (1)
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The turbulent Roks.
A knight and a graduate of Apuria Academy.
Highly loyal, recognized for his exceptional operational skills and reputation, Roks was currently serving as a direct intelligence agent for Heinkel.
As such, Roks received raw information.
Not the filtered information passed on to other knights, but the real-deal information. For instance, regarding the identity of the girl sitting across from him.
“Hmm.”
Roks glanced sideways at the girl.
Rania van Trias, the one reading the documents Roks had provided, brushing aside her ashen hair.
Roks had received top-secret information about her identity directly from the Knights Order Leader.
“The Ashen Mage, Raniel.”
“They say this young lady, Rania, was raised by Raniel, who had been preparing for this since before his retirement.”
Rania, adored by that great mage.
This was information that only a few in the Knights Order were privy to and treated as highly confidential.
‘She must have some unusual qualities.’
After all, she was the chosen one of the Ashen Mage.
Like other mage knights, Roks held the utmost respect for Raniel.
“If you have any questions, feel free to ask. As the instructor for the next Hero candidate, Rania has the authority to access relevant information,” Roks guided.
Rania nodded slightly with a smile, a soft and gentle expression that momentarily left Roks blinking in surprise.
‘Definitely not what I expected.’
When he had only heard rumors, he thought she resembled the Ashen Mage, but seeing her in person was completely opposite to the image in his mind.
‘She seems gentle, warm, and like she wouldn’t swear a single bad word.’
‘By the way, she mentioned being a professor at Apuria.’
She must have been kindly instructing students with that gentle smile. If only there had been such a professor when he was studying at Apuria, he would have happily gone to school every day…
Regretful, indeed.
Roks sighed internally as he remembered his hellish academic life under Rosel van Trias. As Roks nurtured his misconceptions…
Tsk, damn it.
Rania furrowed her brows as she skimmed through the documents. Fighting the urge to curse out loud, she massaged her temples.
The trial date was much earlier than expected.
This meant she needed to change the plan significantly. Rania mumbled to herself in annoyance.
‘I’ll need to go and pry some information out.’
There wouldn’t be a shift in the trial date for no reason. There had to be a cause, and the only person she could shake for information around here was… one person.
Kalt.
That guy must know something.
2.
Tweet, tweet…
Sparrows chirped by the window. The sun, high in the sky, filtered through the slightly open window, and the chilly wind of early winter flowed into the room.
It was daytime.
A bright midday.
Sitting in his office, Kalt suddenly recalled when he had last visited home. His memory was hazy, and it felt like it had been quite some time.
“Oh.”
Kalt let out a hollow laugh.
Struggling with the workload that had doubled since the organizational restructuring, Kalt gulped down yet another coffee.
“Senpai, I’ve become a superhuman, you know?”
“Is that so?”
“But somehow, it feels like all the enhanced abilities of a superhuman are just being used to handle overtime work.”
“Well, Kuntel told you that, right?”
Lying on the sofa, Rania chimed in.
“After all, being a superhuman, you’re still human. It seems like you’re making use of superhuman abilities in a very human way.”
“This is… superhuman? This is it? This isn’t superhuman at all!”
Suppressing his desire to shout out his thoughts, Kalt sighed again.
“So, what brings you here?” he asked, looking at the sprawled Rania.
“I’ve got a question.”
“I can guess, I received the same info a few days ago.”
It was probably about the trials that the next Hero candidate had to undertake. Kalt laid down his quill, signaling he was ready to listen.
“Oops.”
Bouncing off the sofa, Rania approached Kalt.
“Kalt.”
“Yes, Senpai.”
“The next Hero candidate, Chloe. My student. Isn’t the trial scheduled unusually early?”
The earlier-than-expected trial schedule was Rania’s reason for visiting Kalt.
Kalt took a moment to breathe before answering her question.
“…Normally, Hero candidates take their trials in about two years at the earliest. This is on the slow end. After all, it’s been three years since she was identified as a Hero candidate.”
“I specifically said to take her time and nurture her.”
“That’s true,” Kalt sighed.
“I’ve heard the plan has changed.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Yes. It seems necessary to fast-track Chloe through the trials and utilize her as a trainee hero. Of course, she can remain at Apuria after becoming a trainee…”
After a brief pause, Kalt continued.
“…She’s been instructed to be developed to the point where she can be deployed in special circumstances. That directive came directly from the Knight Order Leader, Heinkel.”
“Heinkel said that?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
Rania frowned.
The Heinkel she remembered was a decent man, usually allowing any Hero enough time to properly make their way to the battlefield.
‘That’s why I thought there was plenty of time left.’
If Heinkel made that decision, there was only one possible reason. Cautiously, Rania inquired.
“…Is the battlefield very tough?”
“It’s tough, but it appears the balance is still barely being maintained. The increased maneuverability of the Sword Demon Draka has played a part regarding that. However…”
Kalt hesitated.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s still classified, but… it seems a Hero is going to retire soon. Predictions are that it will disrupt the current balance.”
A Hero’s retirement.
Although generally impossible, there had been a few recorded instances of Hero retirements throughout the centuries, usually following significant injuries forcing them away from the field.
Rania’s eyes narrowed.
“Did he sustain a serious injury?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Yet they decided to retire?
The first person that came to Rania’s mind was the cowardly Destel, who frequently quipped about quitting.
“Is the Coward Destel finally retiring?”
“No. He’s still milking the system and is far from retiring.”
Rania squinted even more.
Not Destel, then who else could it be? Her voice dropped significantly.
“Is it Kile retiring?”
A chilling tone.
At that moment, Kalt swallowed hard, shaking his head.
“Not Sir Kile, either.”
“What? Then, there’s no one left.”
“What do you mean no one? There’s still one left,” Kalt corrected.
“Oh, come on.”
Rania chuckled to herself.
“Galahal retiring? That’s not going to happen. Even if you forced him to retire, he’d say, ‘I haven’t fulfilled my responsibilities yet.’”
“It’s certainly time for him to retire.”
A halt.
Rania, who had been shaking her head, suddenly froze. Silent, she stared at Kalt, then murmured softly.
“…Really?”
“Yes. Truly.”
“Wait, Galahal is… retiring? That Galahal?”
“Yes. Sir Galahal of the Holy Spear is retiring.”
A series of blinks.
A few seconds of silence.
“Crazy.”
Immediately after, Rania muttered, appearing utterly in disbelief.
3.
The Eastern Front, adjacent to the Demon Realm.
A place where the sun never rises and it is always night. The land never hardens; it is repeatedly soaked with the blood of beasts and humans alike. Human corpses sink below the ground, only to be covered by the remains of the beasts.
Burning the muck of the ground.
Fighting the beasts once more atop it.
In a place where death and nothing but death flows endlessly, the knights fulfill their roles.
Knights are protectors, guardians of humanity.
With their mission close to heart, the knights resist the approaching death day after day. This included the knights standing in one corner of the battlefield.
“…”
Eastern Front, Rotendan.
Knights standing on the land of Rotendan looked down at the ground, where lay the bodies of their comrades who had just moments ago fought back to back with them.
Broken blades.
Ownerless swords.
Limbs scattered across the ground.
The bodies had been mutilated in some way, showing signs of having been bitten or squeezed. The surviving knights slowly lift their heads.
Slosh.
As they raise their gazes, they see.
Slosh, cracking, crunching.
There stands a massive beast.
Underneath the horrific monster lies a pile of corpses, blood flowing continuously.
Splosh.
The ground is stained once again with the blood of their comrades.
The beast’s claw scoops up a knight barely alive, crushing him. This isn’t an act of sustenance.
Blergh, cough, cough…
It is merely playing with its prey.
And thus, another knight meets his end. Watching this, the eyes of the remaining knights carry emptiness.
Special Class 1 Beast, Corpse Harvester.
The Corpse Harvester was a beast created by the traitor. Knights were already aware of the information regarding the beast that had appeared repeatedly on the battlefield.
Resilient skin and remarkable regenerative abilities.
Strength capable of demolishing castle walls with bare hands.
Like other beasts made by the traitor, this one was of a different caliber than mere creatures. Just as the traitor was called a calamity, her creations were disasters in their own right.
It cannot be stopped.
More knights are needed.
Yet, no reinforcements arrive.
All they can do is stand their ground.
The Corpse Harvester, after slaughtering a certain number of knights, tends to collect the bodies scattered on the ground for unknown reasons and returns to the Phantom Territory.
Sometimes it hunts them down, but…
When the opportunity isn’t there, it resorts to using discarded toys.
Yes, discarded toys.
Reinforcements won’t come, and they will die here. Having anticipated such days, the knights accept their fate.
Slosh.
To ensure the monster does not head towards the nearby frontlines, they attempt to draw the Corpse Harvester’s attention here.
Thud, thud, thud.
That is their role.
That is their best judgment.
Splosh.
It may be their best judgment, but…
Cough, blergh.
As they watch their comrades die without achieving anything, no matter how firm their resolve is, it wavers.
They are afraid.
Afraid but unable to flee.
‘I am a knight.’
Knights are saviors.
They are those who protect others.
Knights are the ones who make choices for protection.
‘But.’
In the moments before death, they ponder.
Who protects the protectors?
Isn’t there anyone who will save them?
That question grows.
Ugh, ugh…
Swallowed by fear, they momentarily lose themselves as humans, not knights, wanting to scream.
Crash!
A beam of light pierces the battlefield.
The Corpse Harvester stumbles back, and in the void created by its movement stands someone tall.
The dust that had risen settles down.
Amidst the settling dust, glorious starlight shines brightly.
Whoosh, as the platinum spear brushes the dust away, its owner reveals himself.
“Hero, Galahal.”
He speaks his name aloud.
Standing in front of the remaining knights, he firmly grasps his spear, declaring,
“I will join the fray.”
Who protects those who protect?
As if responding to the questions the knights held deep in their hearts, Galahal’s holy spear shone brightly in platinum light.
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