novelraw Chapter 163 : Chapter 163
Chapter 163 : Chapter 163
Chapter 163: The Grave of All Heroes (3)
“The world is not one.”
What on earth was he talking about?
Tilting her head slightly, Monika wondered. Sunlike, radiant blond hair, and eyes as pure as the vast ocean. While a woodblock print of the Hero from
His attire was a black-and-white formal uniform.
Then what of his expression?
It was far too indifferent for someone who claimed to be a Hero.
“I was merely a Hero from one among countless worlds. It has been quite some time since I cast aside that title. Now, I am nothing more than a madman. I have reincarnated more than a hundred times and traversed over a hundred worlds. It seems that is how I lost my sanity.”
No one believed him to begin with.
Because they did not believe him, they could listen.
The audience focused on Abel’s voice. Only Monika looked around, unable to grasp what was happening.
“I ask you.”
Some felt displeased.
Abel’s tale was profoundly irreverent.
To claim that this land, forged by the sacrifice of the World God, was not unique. Then for what purpose had the World God sacrificed Himself? Did this mean that even the World God was not singular? It was unbelievable, and it felt offensive.
“Why do you call yourselves Heroes?”
Some found it intriguing.
Abel’s tale was undeniably novel.
A Hero who had undergone more than a hundred reincarnations and crossed more than a hundred worlds. The most eccentric speech ever delivered at ‘The Grave of All Heroes.’ Smiling to themselves, they thought so. The prize offered at today’s event would surely go to that man.
“Do you wish to become a Hero of your own accord?”
“Is that not obvious?”
Suddenly, a voice rose from the once-silent audience.
Someone had raised his hand. A man wearing a modified version of northern armor. It was the same man who had spoken before Abel.
“The Hero has not yet appeared in this land, but if the prophecy is true, He will someday save the world. I hope that I might be the one to carry out such an honorable duty. Of course, that is impossible….”
“I see.”
Abel nodded.
Letting out a small sigh, he continued.
“Then let me speak of the time when I was a Hero.”
Abel spoke of a single death.
Of a close friend from his youth, Leon Baibars.
“You had an honorable companion.”
Someone offered their appraisal.
“A Mage who perished along with the Magic Tower. That is a death befitting a Mage’s calling. A Hero must have resolute companions, after all. At times, one must not hesitate to make sacrifices.”
“Leon Baibars was not a resolute man. He liked to scheme and wished for a life without effort. Above all, he would have hesitated to die. And I, too, hesitated to turn my back on my friend.”
Next, Abel spoke of another death.
Of a comrade from the same order of knights, Vanessa Spencer.
“Oh dear, that death is rather predictable.”
Someone commented.
“That she could defend the Royal Capital because she inherited the blood of the Ancients…. It is far too convenient. Still, I can understand it. A companion with extraordinary lineage—there ought to be at least one such person in a subjugation force.”
“I did not know of Vanessa Spencer’s lineage. At least, not until the moment the subjugation force was formed. Had she been an ordinary human, she would not have been able to defend the Royal Capital.”
Next, Abel spoke of yet another death.
Of Maurice de Olfrange, heir to a fallen noble house.
“Hey! Enough already!”
Someone shouted.
“Why does everyone keep dying? Listening to this makes me yawn. Did you not say you traveled through more than a hundred worlds? And yet you could not save a single companion? That is absurd. If you are going to fabricate a story, at least do it properly!”
“A great purpose cannot encompass small purposes. One who is burdened with the duty of saving the world is deprived of the moment to save individuals. It struck me as an unavoidable principle.”
Next, Abel spoke of yet another death.
Of Ion Blanche, owner of the pitifully worn cherished blade.
Of the Saintess whom the Subjects, consumed by fear, despair, and the madness born of them, had nailed to death in the plaza. Abel recited her end calmly, staring at Monika standing among the audience, his voice devoid of even a trace of emotion.
“Um….”
Someone ventured an appraisal.
“…Could she not have been saved?”
It was a child.
A boy spoke while clutching the hem of his mother’s clothes.
The stuffed Hero doll held in the boy’s arms stood out clearly. Looking at it, Abel whispered softly.
“I do not know.”
It was not a fitting line with which to conclude a story.
Every tale required an ending. Peace came to the world, and everyone lived happily ever after. That was how a Hero’s story was supposed to end.
The boy quietly stared at Abel. Abel’s mouth remained firmly shut. And yet, for some reason, he was smiling. With a faint smile, as if lost in memories, he smiled.
“Well….”
The boy, who had been watching Abel with an indifferent expression,
“…it was kind of interesting.”
Clap.
He brought his hands together and muttered.
- Of all the stories I heard today, this one barely passes.
- The world is not one… all the companions died…. It is a fairly bold concept.
- I do not know about your talent as a storyteller, but you know how to draw attention. Do better next time, young man.
Clap, clap, clap.
As applause rang out,
‘…Moonlight Day Commemorative Limited Edition.’
Monika looked beyond the platform.
Inside a carefully arranged glass case, the event’s prize was on display. A premium item released annually in celebration of Moonlight Day. A porcelain figurine set of the Hero and companions. As for the price, it was best left undefined. It had been sold exclusively through auction.
‘The Beginning of a Great Journey….’
Monika recited the product name in her mind.
Behind the Hero advancing with the Holy Sword in hand,
the Saintess, the Mage, the Inspector, and the Strategist followed.
All of them wore unwavering smiles.
***
“Why?”
Monika spoke.
“Why did you step forward so suddenly?”
It was evening before they knew it.
Amid the flickering electric lights, the porcelain figurine set atop the round table gleamed.
It was far too ostentatious to place in a furniture-less, barren office. To begin with, Abel had never intended to own it. The framed illustration of the Hero, the incense candles shaped like the Holy Sword, the tableware engraved with crests symbolizing the Hero and companions…. None of the items Monika had purchased suited Abel’s office.
“It cannot be that you coveted the prize….”
Monika narrowed her eyes.
Across the table, she stared at Abel, who was polishing his cherished blade.
“And you are not the type to enjoy role-playing.”
“I simply wanted to speak. I was curious how those gathered there would react.”
Abel shrugged.
Picking up a towel, he wiped down the blade.
“How did it sound to you? My story, I mean.”
Abel spoke in a subdued tone, and
“I did not think much of it.”
Monika muttered, pursing her lips.
“I did think you were good at lying. Perhaps bluffing is also a technique for battle? Your expression did not change at all as you spoke. The story was so preposterous that it did not convince me, but if you had told a smaller lie, I might have fallen for it.”
“I see.”
Thud.
Abel set the cherished blade down on the round table.
Around the blade, which looked as though it ought to be discarded, lay grimy towels crumpled together. He seemed to have wiped it extensively, yet the blade remained filthy. Tracing the edge with his index finger, Abel whispered,
“You still do not believe my words.”
“Is that not obvious?”
Monika let out a sigh.
“Try stopping a passerby and telling them that the world is not one, and that you came from another world. No one would believe you.”
“Indeed.”
Abel readily agreed, then said,
“Even so… what if my words are the truth?”
“What would I do? To begin with, it cannot be true, and….”
Monika crossed her arms.
She trailed off while gauging Abel’s demeanor.
If she were to say she could not believe him, then Abel’s very existence would be difficult to accept. Come to think of it, had he not spoken of saving the world together? When they first met, Abel had abruptly told her they would save the world. From Monika’s perspective, he could only be seen as a madman.
Leaping from a Floating Island to wipe out an entire fleet, annihilating hordes of monsters crossing the sea with a single swing of his sword—such an existence was hard to comprehend.
And what else had he said?
That he could no longer eat, and could no longer sleep.
“Even if, by some chance, it were true….”
Monika stood up.
She pulled a chair over and moved beside Abel.
“…I would not want to believe it.”
Creak.
After unfolding a folding chair haphazardly,
“Look at me, Professor.”
Monika said as she plopped down onto the chair.
“Please sit facing me.”
Abel tilted his head for a moment, then adjusted himself as Monika instructed. She silently watched him, then whispered in a small voice,
“Now close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“There is something I want to confirm.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am going to check whether you truly cannot sleep.”
Please keep your eyes closed.
Sit comfortably. But do not move.
I will be watching you. If you doze off even a little, just wait. I will call you the greatest liar alive.
Come on.
Monika pressed him,
“Close your eyes.”
Abel scratched the back of his neck, hesitated, then,
“…Fine.”
He reluctantly agreed.
He leaned his upper body against the backrest, rested one arm on the armrest, and propped up his chin. After staring blankly at Monika, Abel closed his eyes. He drew in the stale scent of the office and let time pass while sensing Monika’s gaze beyond his closed eyelids.
He thought quietly.
Of the world where he had first been born and raised.
“Do not peek.”
“…I am not.”
He thought quietly.
Of the names and faces of the companions he had lost.
“I am still here.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I can hear your presence.”
He thought quietly.
Of the time when his companions were still alive,
of the moment they set out on their journey to defeat the Demon King.
“…Snore.”
Abel opened his eyes.
How much time had passed?
Monika was already dozing off.
Leaning against the chair, her head bobbed forward.
“Sleep well, Monika.”
Abel reached out.
He stroked Monika’s hair, a faint smile forming on his lips.
At the same time, he thought of the moment he had set out on his journey. What expression had he worn then?
‘Probably….’
Abel glanced at the porcelain figurines atop the round table.
The Hero advanced, holding the radiant Holy Sword aloft, smiling brightly.
‘…not an expression like that.’
He hoped so.
That was what Abel thought.
Fidgeting with the corners of his lips, where a faint smile lingered, he reflected.
If he had smiled so brightly at everyone when setting out, it would have been shameful beyond bearing, unbearably irresponsible.
If only he could drift into sleep, even briefly,
if only he could dream, then he wished he could look back and say it.
‘Everyone….’
Do not follow me.