Chapter 103 - Birth of the Hero
I hate this. Already.
Today, too, I am lying low in the shadow of the bushes, holding my breath.
A bed of foul-smelling grass. This is my sleeping place, my toilet, and surely, my graveyard.
I want to go home.
I want to eat the dinner Mother made. While I was at home, I didn't think it was particularly delicious, but now, I feel like I could eat any amount.
I wonder if Father is still at work...
While thinking such things, I look up at the sky.
The stars twinkling in the night sky are arranged in a configuration completely different from Earth.
It forces me to realize, even if I hate it, that this is not my home.
Staring at things like this only makes me lonely.
I lower my eyes and return to a state of vigilance.
How many days have passed since then?
When I asked the knight lying next to me, he replied that it had been exactly ten days.
When I asked how he could tell,
"Because I counted properly. But from here on, I don't know if I'll be able to count correctly. After all, look, I've only got ten fingers now,"
the knight laughed.
"That's not funny, that joke."
This knight had lost his lower body in the previous battle.
Since he can only use the fingers on both hands, he has ten fingers.
It is not a wound that can be healed by my immature Recovery Magic. His life will likely end soon.
And yet, his mouth hangs loosely in a grin, and he does nothing but engage in silly pranks.
I cannot help but feel an eerie sensation at that abnormal cheerfulness.
For the first few days, he gave the impression of a stiff warrior. But as we continued fighting without sleep or rest, his words and actions gradually became unstable.
Furthermore, terrifyingly, he is not the only one whose mind has been broken.
Everyone is breaking, little by little. They repeat cycles of crying, laughing, and screaming; it is already like a psychiatric ward.
It is likely because this is not a normal battle.
Apparently, it is unprecedented for the front lines to fall into such a terrible stalemate.
What should normally end in just a few hours has been continuous for ten days.
Even though our provisions ran out long ago, neither supplies nor reinforcements have come. From morning until night, we do nothing but eat the corpses of the Orcs we've slain.
Have I gone mad too?
I don't really know myself.
However, having been pointed out by those around me, I've realized that I seem to have started biting my own nails frequently.
The contents of my dreams have also become nothing but a mess of blood and entrails, and perhaps my head really is beyond repair.
This is a fantasy world, I am the Hero, and I can use both swords and magic.
I thought I could play an active role immediately, just like in manga or games.
I thought the battlefield was a place to compete in wisdom and bravery. Now, I want to scold myself for how naive that perception was, but I had expected it to be something like a sport where people die.
But, I was wrong.
Real enemy soldiers with bodies of flesh scream in pain when cut. They shed both blood and tears, and call out their family members' names as they die.
Even if they are pig-men, half of them are human.
It is magnificent murder.
Every time I kill an enemy, something inside me dies a little more.
I don't want to kill. But I don't want to be killed. So I kill.
I feel humanity in the Orcs begging for their lives as I slash at them, and I vomit after cutting off their heads.
While being eroded by physiological disgust and guilt, I slash at the next enemy with nothing but the single-minded desire to survive.
I thought it would be easier if my sword simply broke, providing a reason not to fight, but even that is not granted to me now.
Because I have awakened to the [Skill: Divine Sword].
When I slaughtered the third Orc, I leveled up and became able to generate a blade of light of my own free will.
The legitimate proof of a Summoned Hero. An infinite, fighting blade.
It seems the news that a real Hero has finally appeared has also reached the Orc army.
According to interrogations of prisoners, they are sending reinforcements one after another in an attempt to defeat me here at all costs.
No wonder they keep appearing no matter how many I cut down.
If they won't retreat, we cannot back down either. If a great horde of Orcs were to pour into the Human territory, I wonder how many sacrifices would be made.
Even if I want to run, I cannot.
There is nothing waiting where I run to.
That damn King won't help me, and if he finds out the Hero committed desertion, I can't imagine what he would do to me.
I have no choice but to do it.
I have no choice but to win.
Even though I hate it.
Even though I want to go home.
I have once again spotted an Orc soldier ahead.
Judging by their cautious footsteps, are they planning a night raid?
If I don't strike first, I'll likely be pierced in the stomach by that rusted spear. They might fire fire arrows.
"...It might be fine for me, a Japanese person, but the knights surely hate cremation."
For the half-bodied knight who is dying beside me, I want to give him a burial in the earth once he draws his last breath.
When this person was still sane, he was very kind to me. He taught me sword techniques and magic, and even shared his food.
[Hero Keisuke consumes 30 MP. Activating [Skill: Divine Sword]. Attack power increased by 100%]
[You have entered a state of specialized attack against Spiritual Bodies, Demons, and Undead]
With a mechanical vroom sound, the Light Sword extends.
I don't know why such an SF-like skill exists in a medieval fantasy-style world, but it doesn't matter now.
As long as it cuts, that's enough.
Exhausted, I stand up and leap out from the grass.
The sword of light illuminating the darkness of the night makes me stand out whether I like it or not. But that also means it is easy to perform the role of a decoy.
There are many wounded allies hiding in those bushes.
I have no choice but to draw the enemy's attention.
While enduring fatigue, drowsiness, and nausea, I extend my arm. It is a relaxed movement, like an elderly practitioner of Kendo.
When I still had energy, I used to swing my sword with large motions, but now I fight with minimal movement.
It is simply because it is easier, but my win rate has steadily increased.
In the beginning, I was often pushed back by the enemy and saved by my allies, but since yesterday, I haven't lost a single exchange.
Perhaps the waste is being removed from my form.
Unnecessary tension, or humanity—those things are being stripped away, and I am being refined as a warrior.
What exactly is waiting at the end of that?
"Hero..."
With a heavy thud, the sound of something large being dropped, an Orc soldier leveled his spear.
I move the Light Sword slightly to the side to illuminate the area at his feet.
I wanted to grasp what kind of thing had been placed there. Perhaps he had set a trap—
"—"
But.
It was not luggage.
It was an Orc soldier who had lost both legs. There were traces of bandages and treatment.
If that is the case, the Orc currently pointing his spear at me was walking while carrying a wounded comrade on his back.
Just like me, he is shielding a comrade who cannot move. Despite being a pig bastard, he has a heart that cares for his allies. He has humanity.
"Damn it! Damn it! Bastard!"
And yet, we must fight.
The prisoner said it. Apparently, the Demon Lord does not permit retreat. Because what awaits those who flee is execution.
It is the same for me. I cannot retreat even if I want to.
Even though I hate it. Even though I don't want to kill. I was just an ordinary middle school student like anyone else.
While possessing the natural sensibility of hating slaughter, I still have to strike down the enemy.
"O-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The voice I screamed was already almost not human.
It was a beast-like shriek, so much so that I wondered if it was truly my own voice.
Both my heart and my vocal cords must have long since lost their ability to regulate.
"Aaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Contrary to my childish screams, I decapitated the Orc with fluid movements.
With a follow-up strike, I also thrust into the legless Orc lying on the ground.
Because any enemy, if killed and burned, becomes food. Because to survive, I cannot afford to be picky about my methods.
By morning, it was all over.
There were no more moving enemies. It seems the Orc army has been annihilated.
The surviving knights are letting out victory cries, though they are staggering.
We won.
It is a victory for the Human Army.
Slowly, I look back.
There, the corpses of the Orcs I killed are piled high.
In my field of vision, I see text messages announcing a level up, and the legless knight who should be dead is grinning.
Not only that, but Father and Mother are there too, sitting happily at a table together.
Keisuke, you come here too. You have to eat breakfast quickly, Mother said.
Is it a dream or an illusion? Have I finally gone mad?
But the reason doesn't matter; I am so incredibly happy to see them again that I begin walking toward the dining table.
Now, let's take my seat.
Let's say "Itadakimasu."
At the very moment I reached out to take my chopsticks, my consciousness cut off.
When I next woke up, I was on a bed. A luxurious stone ceiling.
"Are you awake?"
When I turned toward the voice, an elderly man was smiling with his eyes crinkled. His clothing suggested wealth and power, and he had a white mustache.
It is the King. He has an incredibly gentle face, unlike when he drove me out of the castle, treating me like a pseudo-demihuman.
Several guards stand behind him, and a heavy atmosphere hangs in the air.
"I thought I would personally commend the Hero-dono."
"I see," I reply.
More than that, my true feeling was that I wanted to go home and eat Mother's home cooking.
"My, truly. Simply wonderful. Defeating three hundred Orcs alone. To think such a hero existed."
The King is impressed, saying that eating the corpses of enemies is also quite good.
"Since we of the Human Race have always been pushed back by the demi-humans. The common folk are greatly rejoicing."
"I see. Is that so."
"The time may have finally come to show the strength of the Human Race. After all, we possess the strongest Hero. From now on, we should go on the offensive. We shall kill every last demi-human. Kill the women. Kill the children. Kill, kill, kill—that is the way! Do you not agree?"
"...I wonder."
"We plan to execute prisoners in the plaza soon, would you like to come and observe?"
"...No, thank you."
"Are you perhaps tired?"
"Excuse me. May I ask one thing?"
"What is it?"
I ask the King, who tilts his head.
"Your Majesty, do you have any actual experience standing on a battlefield?"
"I have commanded several times."
"Have you ever clashed blades with an enemy soldier?"
"No."
He looks puzzled, as if asking what that has to do with anything.
"No, it's nothing."
A person in power who orders soldiers to fight does not bear the risk of killing.
Because they are of a status that only cheers from a safe place, perhaps they can say "kill, kill" without hesitation—
While thinking such things, I stared at the knight at the edge of my vision. The young man without legs. The young man who should be dead.
I thought for a moment he might be a ghost, but since I can also see my Father and Mother, who should be alive in Japan, this must be a hallucination after all.
Will my head ever be cured?
"By the way, Hero-dono. I apologize for bothering you while you are tired, but we must provide rewards commensurate with your achievements."
"...?"
"Since you have woken up safely, I intend to have you attend a ceremony tomorrow. I plan to commend you and grant you a sword and various riches. You must be happy."
"I see."
"Your reaction is slow. ...Ah, well, I understand even without you saying it. This is what a young man truly desires, after all."
The King's mouth twists into a smirk.
"From today onward, I shall send a maid to the Hero-dono's room every night. I will prepare beautiful ones. You may use them as you please."
"I see."
"I do not mind if you impregnate them. That would be more convenient. An increase in the Hero's lineage is welcome—the descendants of an excellent warrior must increase."
With a one-sided "Until next time," the King and his guard soldiers left the room.
I understood almost none of what was said. It felt as though the sounds entered my right ear and exited my left.
I smiled at my hallucinated parents and closed my eyes again.
And then, I noticed a change within myself.
The guilt I had felt so intensely was gone.
The self-loathing of having killed a creature with a personality had vanished without a trace.
"I suppose that means you have been completed as a warrior."
The voice of that legless knight speaks to me.
"What do you mean?"
"The boy inside you has died. You could also call it your conscience."
"What will happen to me?"
"You will break more, and become even stronger."
"You are a hallucination I am seeing, right? You aren't a ghost, are you?"
"I am your conscience."
What is he talking about?
When I snapped my eyes open, the knight claiming to be my conscience had vanished.
Father and Mother had also become invisible.
I got out of bed and tried walking around the room, but they were nowhere to be found.
It was the moment I lost something I must never let go of.
I buried my face in the pillow.
Thinking of my broken self, I continued to cry in silence.
Before long, just as I thought I heard a knock at the door, a girl entered.
She was likely the maid the King mentioned. A red-haired girl dressed in a refined maid uniform.
The maid introduced herself with a name like Ann or Anna, or something like that.
I could feel no interest whatsoever.
The maid kept touching my body.
She showered me with persistent praise and words of appreciation, saying things like how manly I was, how strong and wonderful I was, and how I should continue to do my best for the sake of the country.
She is likely just acting according to the King's instructions.
I had no desire to resist, so I simply left myself to her.
Even though I was being touched by a girl of my own age, I felt no excitement at all.
While picturing the dining table at my family home in my head, I simply waited for time to pass.
Mother scooping rice into a bowl. Father receiving it. Because he eats while reading the morning paper, rice spills onto the table. Mother warns him to stop reading while eating.
The usual morning. The usual scene of family togetherness. What I truly crave right now.
"...Oh, Hero-sama. Is this where you like it?"
She surely doesn't think that I am smirking because I am imagining my Father eating his meal.
The maid seemed to interpret it as my hands pleasing her—and she began to grope my body even more intensely.