I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist - Chapter 149: For whom we bear the Sword. (2)

Various books fell overhead. Precious texts shouldn’t be on the floor. I used my superhuman reflexes to catch them all. A pungent cloud of dust rose, and I sneezed repeatedly.

“You’ve got a lot of books in here.”

My hands, hair, and face are covered in dust. I shook myself off like a puppy caught in the rain and ran down the aisle of bookshelves. The librarian heard me and shook his head. The librarian was an old, grizzled man. His glasses, perched on his blunt nose, hadn’t been cleaned in a long time and were covered in smudges. He jerked his head up from the book he was reading.

“Well, it’s bad form to damage a book. I don’t care if you’re the Hero. Only a handful of people are allowed here, and the only ones with access to these materials are you and Her Majesty the Queen. They are that rare and important.”

“I will be careful.”

I was expecting an insult, but the librarian’s tone was polite. I smiled sheepishly, picked up the stack of books, and headed for the desk. I set the books down with a thud, and they kicked up dust again. I waved my hand to shake it away and carefully opened the cover. Even in the Kairos Kingdom, the past was strictly controlled. The country’s founding was tied to mythology, but few knew where myth ended and history began. I opened the book to dig into it.

“…Okay.”

And so, ambitiously, I began to read,

***

“Blah blah blah…and proclaimed the city’s founding as a fortress in the Kairos Basin.”

There was no information of any use. I let out a long sigh as I turned to the last page of the third book. Even the historical references to the past were just words to prove mythological orthodoxy. There were some accounts of the deeds of the heroes at the end of the mythic age, but the statements of the monsters and Disasters were few and fragmentary.

The Seventh Disaster is the beginning and end of all Disasters.

Therefore, it is called the Origin. That was all I found so far in the books. I’ve asked the Holy Sword many times but was met with an uncharacteristically indifferent response. The beginning and the end. These were the words of the evil god’s incarnation at the end of the Age of Myth. Bleeding from every orifice in his face, the shaman died, cursing a world where the God of Light had triumphed.

“So much for being cool and straightforward.”

I said disgruntledly and leaned back in my chair. Holy Sword had lived through that era and must know something, but I couldn’t figure out why she kept her mouth shut. I picked up the book and carried it to the librarian. He looked at the stack of books on the counter and pushed up his glasses.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No, sir. Lots of valuable information, but nothing I was looking for.”

I shrugged, and the librarian laughed bitterly as if he knew that was true.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for among the dusty books. I doubt whoever wrote them even knew what happened.”

He set aside the book he read in a corner.

“They’re useful for retelling history, but they’re limited, and the information you’re looking for isn’t here. It probably doesn’t exist in written form.”

I frowned at that statement.

“What a curious one you are. You’ve already defeated Four Disasters, and the last shows no signs of leaving its slumber. Why are you doing this? What more could the Hero who has saved the world four times ask for?”

“I don’t mean anything as arrogant as that. I just….”

I want to save people and make this world last longer. I didn’t turn my thoughts into words. The librarian looked at me and sighed.

“The monsters had shamans. A shaman is nothing less than an incarnation of the evil god. But the God of Light had none, for heroes were not spokesmen for the gods but for men. Though I suppose that’s what he wanted.”

Some volunteered to speak for the gods, but the Age of Myth was over.

“There is no way to know why the gods disappeared. The current Holy Land has long since lost contact with the gods, though I would never deny their existence….”

The librarian’s words had become an incoherent mess. A few caught my attention, but they were beyond my current understanding. There was nothing I could do about them now except listen.

“I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do for you. Do you still want to spend some time reading?”

“…I’ll go back. Thank you for your consideration.”

I bowed and left the library. Summer was in full swing, and the sounds of knights training echoed throughout the palace.

“Why won’t you tell me your memories?”

(My memories of my time as a sword do not exist, Elroy. You overestimate my knowledge.)

I narrow my eyes.

(My current knowledge would not help you.)

I wondered why the Holy Sword wouldn’t tell me about the Seventh Disaster or the Age of Myth.

“Don’t be silly. It would be helpful to know anything.”

(Approaching it hastily will not solve it.)

The Holy Sword was right. I reviewed the information in the books.

Even if I knew it would work without the help, I still needed to know.

“Okay, I’ll just have to organize the information I’ve gathered.”

Don’t let go. I had to hold on to whatever I had left. I had to hold on to the fragments and pull them together to solve what was missing.

(Elroy.)

The echoing voice of the Holy Sword in my head interrupted my thoughts. The sound of horses whinnying and trotting came from right behind me. I spun around to see a four-wheeled carriage stop in front of me. Hot horse breath wafted past me on the wind.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t you stand there!”

I heard the coachman exclaim. I flinched, stepped back, and bowed my head in apology.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Idiotic madman. If you wanted to die, at least do it with honor…”

The coachman froze.

“Oh, dear…Hero, that’s not….”

“It’s okay; I’m sorry I was in your way.”

I shifted on my feet and quickly moved out of the way. The gazes of the passersby were split, half on me, half on the coachman. The silence was embarrassing, so I walked away. There was still no sound from the street I had left. I found an empty bench and sat down.

(Your head seems to be full.)

I nodded. I’ve faced this problem in the Mist. If you let your thoughts take over, you’re bound to make mistakes. You can’t let them control your body.

“Let’s go a little farther…”

I suppressed the throbbing in my heart and drew on my mana. I push off the seat and gently rise. I continued rising into the air. I’ll be okay not showing myself for at least another day. The setting sun shone brightly.

It was a strange feeling. The sun’s rising and setting seemed enormous, and I was small in front of it. The ground was below me. I was far from the sky and from the earth.

(How do you feel?)

It was a vague question, but I was able to answer it.

“I feel free. Like I can go anywhere. It’s a privilege.”

(You can literally go anywhere.)

I nodded at the sky. Suddenly, I remembered where I wanted to go. I pivoted and started walking. Standing on thin air was a sensation I hadn’t yet gotten used to. I went outside the city walls. I headed southeast, deep inland. I had never been there before. I reminisced about the past I never experienced.

(…Even for you, this is a weird place to visit.)

“I wanted to go here at least once.”

I smiled thinly while walking through the meadow. The grass was long and tall, with a few shrubs in bloom. I lowered myself slowly to the ground. The grass rustled with my every movement. Looking down, I saw the traces of what had once been a road.

“Long time no see.”

Without realizing it, the words slipped out of my mouth. A memory that shouldn’t have existed flashed through my mind. Perhaps these are the memories of Elroy before I was possessed, or maybe I simply perceive them as such. The stone path was sparse. At the end of it, I saw a crumbling stone cairn. The massive ruins at the end of the trail were surreal.

“Do you remember the years you spent here?”

(Always.)

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. The Holy Sword had been there all along, looking for someone to pull her out. She muttered as if remembering those times.

“Were you ever lonely?”

Stupid question. I knew the answer. She laughed first. I smiled sheepishly and listened to her laughter mingling with the light breeze.

(I wasn’t bored. I could have gone to sleep, but it was fun to watch people come and go, hoping to pull me out. Why? Do you pity me?)

“Maybe. Everybody needs a little pity.”

(Funny how you can pity a sword more than yourself.)

My following words stuck in my throat and hung on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed again and stepped closer to the ruins.

“…So this is it.”

The place where it all began. The place where a man named Elroy became the Hero. I somehow felt at home. Perhaps it was a temple in the past. I glanced at the rubble at my feet and approached the center stone.

(Do you see the groove there?”)

“Yes. Was it here?”

In the center of the boulder was a long, thin groove. Rainwater had pooled in it.

“Will I ever have to put you back here again?”

(I don’t think so…Wait, are you trying to get rid of me?)

I laughed. It wasn’t a question that needed an answer. I felt nostalgic. I continued to stare at the stone. I saw Elroy sitting on it, hugging the Holy Sword. His relaxed body suddenly looked up. I made eye contact with him. In his eyes, I saw dark clouds and forests. I stood still, looking into them.

They were empty, reflecting only what he saw.

***

It was night when I returned to headquarters. I frowned slightly as I felt someone move by the entrance. It shouldn’t be time for Daphne or Marianne to return yet.

“…What happened?”

I yanked the door open and stepped into the headquarters. The first thing I noticed was the smell. The salty smell of dirt, wet cloth, and steel. And then, the unmistakable scent of blood. Quickly looking around, I saw a figure sprawled on the floor in the lobby.

“The Hero…”

I recognize the face. The black priestly robes belonged to an Inquisitor. Their breathing was ragged, their voice thin. I quickly approached and lifted their head up. The hood of the robe fell away, revealing a face. It was a woman in her late teens, her hair tied back in a bun.

“What’s going on?”

I moved my mana, stopping the bleeding. I tore off the robe and priestly robes to examine the wound. I see a cut. It was deep. It didn’t look good. I gave her a little more mana to help her heal. Stuttering, her mouth opened a little.

“The Mercenary…and Bishop….”