‘Heroes exist to save the world.’

…Those words make me sick.

By luck--by horrible luck--I was ‘blessed’ by the Holy Blade, and forced onto the path of killing the Demon Lord.

Everyone focused their attention on me, their hopes became the sole reason I pushed ahead. With the weight of the world on my shoulders, I pressed on, never resting.

What were the reward for my deeds?

To be idolized?

To be an inspiration?

I didn’t want either of those.

Another man could say: ‘Your reward is your adventure and the memories of your companions.’

Don’t make me laugh.

Memories of your companions?

Let me say it again: ‘Heroes exist to save the world’ -- not to save their companions. The fate of my companions was always destined to be a cruel one.

Of course, as a hero, as a Human, I tried my utmost to save those who are important to me. But, the results were always disastrous.

The pain I felt as they whispered to me with their dying breaths, ‘At least you managed to make it out alive.’

The path of a hero is filled more with sorrow than with happiness.

I could not fail to live up to their expectations.

Even when I wandered along the borders of insanity, the people would always put their hope on my existence. Those days would continue as I fought with blood in my mouth and on my body.

Heroes may exist to save the world--but I fought for the peace of death.

I’d had enough of this torturous life, of the mysterious Monsters who would invade our cities and homes, of the villains who dared to harm my friends.

I have slain many, and saved the lives of many more from the jaws of death.

And in the end…

I managed to slay the Demon Lord.

***

How high up was it?

The clouds were laid out below me--I was falling from the sky along with a giant.

A giant with red skin and a single horn--the Demon Lord.

There were countless wounds visible on his colossal body, the Demon Lord was staring at me with teeth gritted, he seemed to be struggling to stay conscious.

I was standing on the Demon Lord’s forehead, the glowing blade of the Holy Sword penetrating deeply into his skull just below the horn--it was a testament to his power that he was still alive, let alone conscious.

“What is going through your mind right now?” His mouth opened, a voice barely escaping.

The volume and power of his voice caused my body to tremble, I was injured and could barely stand, but I found myself looking into his enormous eye and smiling, “I’m tired…so, tired.”

I saw confusion in the Demon Lord’s face, “What?”

‘Yes, this is finally enough, right?’

This is was what I truly thought.

Why?

‘If it’s not you’, ‘If you’re not here, ‘If you can’t’.

I had heard these words…these requests, more times than I could remember.

‘Only you can do it.’, ‘It’s impossible unless it’s you’, ‘Only you can save them’, ‘You must protect them’.

To act as the symbol of their hope, to live up to their wishes.

It had taken its toll on me.

“I’m just really tired.” I muttered again.

It was so hard to meet those gazes that were trying to hold on to what little faith they had.

“Honestly, I don’t want it anymore.”

As I remembered all the lines about heroes that had been said to me, I looked down again. As I fell from an insane height, my clothing fluttered uncontrollably.

Stars shone at the edge of my vision and cold winds clawed at me.

“Finally…”

It was difficult to keep my eyes open.

The clouds which were recently below me, now caressed my body; the ground was getting closer.

“I’m almost there.”

I could see the ashen black buildings, made from concrete, but scorched by my battle with the Demon Lord.

Every time I blinked, they came even closer--it was moments before the final impact.

“Aah, this is the end.”

Even at this height, I couldn’t avoid instant death.

With all of the injuries to my Soul, and all the Curses cast on me, Resurrection was impossible.

The Demon Lord stared at me with curiousity. Because, even after saving the world, even after so much sacrifice, and with only death awaiting me--I found myself smiling.

I heard the Demon Lord’s massive head hit the ground with the sound of a tomato being crushed.

It was my turn less than a second after.

And so--

I died.

***

“The Successor?”

“Yeah, the one of the famed Iphelleta House.”

In the crowded inn, people were excitedly discussing the rumours about the selection of the Iphelleta House’s new successor.

“Yeah!”

Everyone knew of the three sons of the Iphelleta House, a noble House which was famous for its swordsmanship:

The first: Ryan the Strong-Blade, famous for his strength.

The second: Lloyd the Quick-Blade, famous for his speed.

The third, however…

“The successor will be one of the three sons!”

“Only one of them will be chosen, right?”

“Of course!”

“Won’t it be Ryan, the eldest?”

“Well, who knows? I heard that the second-born, Lloyd is quite sharp too.”

Iffa village, a territory ruled by the Finn Iphelleta House, the inn was full of speculation and conversation.

“From the sounds of things, it’s either going to be the First or the Second, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“What about the Third?”

“Ah, well, apparently, he is completely useless.”

“He was born that way.”

“...”

A certain butler, who looked out of place in this inn, tightened his grip on his Ale--almost as though he was trying to shatter the glass.

“He’s a noble, and yet he’s known as the ‘Lazy-Blade’. In a way, he’s more famous than the other two.”

The Third.

Famous within the Iphelleta House for his awe inspiring laziness.

Titled: Lazy-Blade.

Riley.

“...Lazy-Blade?”

“Hah! I’ve never heard of such a disgrace in my life.”

“You know how the Iphelleta House is famous for its swordsmanship? Well, apparently, he’s never swung a damn sword in his life…”

“Basically, he’s beyond hopeless.”

The others nodded in agreement.

The old man who had been listening, suddenly stood up, furious. His face was as red as an apple, “You sons of bitches!”