"Do you see it... Grandpa?"

Tap. Tap.

The sound of blood dripping was almost as faint as the weak, faltering footsteps. The heavy snowfall had stopped, and the blood mist that filled the air had settled into a suffocating silence. It was so quiet that he could hardly believe the struggles, the roars, and the battle cries he had just made. Even the wind seemed to have died here. He was sure it wasn't because his eardrums were filled with blood, but rather that the winds passing through this place had been slain by the bloodshed that had just taken place.

There were no living beings left here.

"Grandpa… do you see it?" Rhett's voice was hoarse, blood flowing from his nose into his airways. His voice was clogged, rasping, and it sounded as if his lungs were struggling to push through the blood bubbles, the faint popping sound filling the air.

Thud.

Finally, his thigh gave out first. Then, every part of his body collapsed like a row of dominoes, his movements ceasing entirely. His body fell to the ground like a broken puppet.

Through the blurry vision of mixed tears and blood, Rhett's eyes caught sight of the rising sun. Its light was different from the color of blood; it was warm and gentle, slowly caressing the sky. Where its fingertips touched, the sky turned a soft, pure blue—such a serene and beautiful color, untainted and simple.

It was like the gentle flow of a childhood stream, or the quiet, slumbering frost in the depths of winter. It was like this victory.

"I finally—"

Rhett weakly lifted his hand. His heart, drained of strength, could no longer pump enough blood to his fingers. In an instant, he felt his fingers lose control, locking in place like a spear, his hand still frozen in the same position it had been when he fell to the ground.

"Your grandson, Rhett."

His outstretched hand pointed straight to the sky.

"I've finally… become a hero…"

The dam inside him broke, and hot tears—like the burning obsession of his heart—rushed down his blood- and dust-covered face. Unable to endure any longer, the boy let out a loud, anguished cry.

The morning sunlight shimmered like gold.

"I! Rhett Toras!"

The wind once again surged through this isolated land, where death had separated them from the world, and hope surged with it…

"I have not dishonored the honor of the Toras family!!"

With that, hope rushed toward the dawn.

The roar collided with the sunlight's radiance in a single moment, the roar so powerful and forceful that the shattered light burst into a rainbow, illuminating the world in vibrant colors.

Twenty years later, in response to the call of the Six Great Archangels, the Hero's Ceremony began once again.

The one hundred chosen candidates gathered in the Border Dead City, each fighting fiercely for one of the few six thrones.

Greed, desire, conspiracy, death. In the name of the supreme deity, they exhausted the ways of the evil spirits and indulged in the deeds of the wicked. This tragic, inhuman war lasted a month.

At last, it came to the end that was destined for him.

After a prolonged period of medical care, when Rhett awoke again, he found himself in a special carriage. Despite having rested for a long time, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion and pain hit him.

There were only ten survivors, but only six had become heroes.

"You've been unconscious for nearly a week. Your body is recovering well. If you need any assistance, please feel free to ask," a service person beside him said, slightly bowing his head.

"Okay, thank you."

Rhett Toras, the boy with no strength left, was one of them.

"If possible, could you help me to the side of the carriage?"

"..."

The servant hesitated, clearly refusing, as he glanced at the doctor with a stern expression.

"Your condition is not suitable for the cold wind."

"It's fine," Rhett smiled. "My body is more suited to the wind. Trust me."

The servant hesitated again, exchanging a long look with the doctor who now appeared more stern. After a moment's hesitation, he relented.

"…Alright. Please."

Rhett leaned his head out the window.

It seemed he had been unconscious for a long time. The view outside was almost unrecognizable, and many unfamiliar plants had appeared. Only the familiar wind accompanied him, gently soothing the pain in his face and allowing him to smile naturally.

Not a dream...

The late autumn and early winter winds brushed against his waist-length braid. His very feminine face still seemed to hold the traces of hot tears. He blinked, trying to imprint the dazzling sunrise into his dark pupils.

From afar... no, even up close, people might mistakenly take him for a girl. With his delicate, fair body, fine features, and long face, along with skin so pale from years of imprisonment, no one would think he was a boy at first glance.

In a way, this was intentional. He had no combat abilities, so it wasn't wise to pretend to have them. However, the fact that he ended up looking like a girl wasn't part of his plan—it just happened. He had never paid much attention to women, yet ironically, he ended up looking more and more like one.

Of course, not everything was of his own making.

He had spent three years in a black prison cell for the false charge of killing his grandfather. The lightless, harsh conditions of the dungeon had left him with a near-transparent pale complexion. The brutal environment had drained away all the fat from his body. He then played along with the situation, growing his hair long, raising his Adam's apple, and doing only the most basic exercises, maintaining his slender figure as if he had completely reshaped his appearance.

He had once been passionate about books and had read countless volumes. Drawing on everything he had learned, he didn't hesitate to discard his pride as a man, donning women's clothes, disguising his voice, and even seducing men if necessary.

Regardless of the means, he would wager even his own life without hesitation.

All for one purpose—to become a hero and restore his fallen family.

And now, all the sacrifices, all the pain he endured, and even the sins he had committed, seemed to have vanished.

He had never felt as if he was so firmly holding onto something.

Without realizing that a contented smile had appeared on his face, he gently brushed his braid behind him and stepped into the carriage.

After becoming a true hero, he still had to journey to the altar for the final hero granting ceremony. It was a journey neither long nor short. The destination was said to be across the sea, but since the carriage couldn't cross water, they had to follow the winding coastline. The journey was used to help the victors recover from the physical tolls of battle.

What a boring yet cruelly humane design, Rhett thought casually as he sat in the carriage.

The bumps of the journey slowly seeped into his consciousness, like a cradle rocking him to sleep, the wind its lullaby, and the sea's rhythmic waves its lyrics. Exhausted, he could no longer resist the pull of sleep and drifted into a haze once more.

This journey lasted half a month, but it felt as if it passed in the blink of an eye. A person who hasn't slept for five days will sleep for a long time once they do. And Light's revenge had been ongoing for almost all the days of his life up until now—his rest, too, would last a long time. So long, in fact, that his keen senses—sharp as a rabbit's—didn't even notice the medical staff angrily pushing past the helpless attendants, gently lifting him back into the velvet bed.

Sometimes, when he opened his eyes, Rhett would wonder if that war had ever really happened. But the glowing runes on his hand silently told him the truth.

It had happened, undeniably.

Ninety people, died in that city.

Anytime he closed his eyes, he could still hear their desperate cries…

"Please, Rhett ... Please, don't... Cough...!"

Especially those who had died by his own hand.

"Ha... Hah..."

Taking a deep breath, Light tried to wipe away the bloodstains that still lingered in his mind.

Unpleasant memories.

Creak…

"Um, is that Mr. Toras?"

The sound that interrupted the fragments of his memories was the voice of a servant.

"It'll be mealtime soon."

"Alright, got it."

Rhett understood the respect shown to the candidates for the title of hero, but…

After all, I'm just a thirdteen-year-old kid.

As Rhett got out of the carriage, he was suddenly reminded of his age.

"How much further to the altar?"

"We should arrive by the afternoon."

After exchanging a few words with the guards, Rhett walked straight to a nearby campfire. A few of the other hero candidates, who had already sat down on the ground, were beginning to eat. Cast iron pots, wooden bowls, and hot soup—though this meal looked relatively simple, it was the best they could find in the area. The soup contained some of the nutritional supplements they had brought along, and the hunters had accompanied them as well.

After all, they were at the border, still too far from the royal city, and large-scale resupply wasn't feasible. The food they were given was the best they could manage under the circumstances.

Rhett sighed inwardly, his gaze drifting toward the other side.

Over by the other campfire, near the carriage, the remaining survivors were eating their meal as well.

For some reason, as he looked at them from a distance, a faint sense of unease lingered in his heart. If they were still in the middle of battle, his mind would probably be filled with warning signs. The former enemies now gathered together, in their eyes, there was a mix of confusion, and Rhett couldn't help but feel an odd discomfort in his chest.

Never mind… The war is over, there's no need to think too much about it.

His overly cautious thoughts were interrupted, and his awareness returned to the present. However, through the gap between the carriages, his eyes were drawn to a familiar figure sitting by the fire—the back of a girl with a ponytail, inexplicably occupying all of his focus.

Rista…

"Rhett! What's wrong with you?" "Over here, lunch time!"

Before he could finish muttering her name, a somewhat sharp voice called out to him.

Shifting his gaze forward, he saw the other five members of the group, now his companions, but his peripheral vision still caught the glimmer on the back of his right hand.

I've already become a hero.

"Sorry, I'm coming."

He no longer had to worry about her.

Deceiving his own heart, Rehtt took a step forward and forced a smile that appeared natural.

Huff, huff, huff!

The sea breeze carried a sharp, damp sensation.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, gazing out at the distant sea view, Rehtt couldn't help but fall into deep thought.

The mist, swirling endlessly, was like a nightmare that often appeared in his dreams, blocking even the faintest light.

He recalled the teachings from the Great Angel's doctrine — "The Sacred Decree of the Heavenly Teachings."

The world we live in, New Voss, was a new world guided for humanity by the seven great angels.

In the distant, ancient past, the gods waged a war over the ownership of the world.

At that time, humans were enslaved by one of the celestial races, but under the guidance of the seven great angels, they came to this new world.

However, one of the angels, also lusting for the world's dominion, betrayed the other six angels along the way.

In order to protect humanity from the gods' grasp, the remaining six angels summoned the mist that shrouded this new world.

Yet, the power of the angels was always limited.

Every hundred years, the descendants of the gods — the Dark Lords, would tear a hole in the mist, leading countless demons across the sea to invade the human realm.

Endless wails and unceasing slaughter followed.

To save the human world, the six angels would descend to the mortal realm, each bestowing their gathered divine energy over the hundred years as a blessing upon one chosen individual.

The Hero.

With weapon raised and mission in hand, these six heroes would ultimately cross countless dangers and obstacles to reach the Demon Lord's castle, slay the Dark Lord, restore the mist, and return in triumph.

...This was the legend.

Although he had long harbored doubts about the story, especially since its logic could never fully make sense, he had believed it simply because the adults said so.

"Seeing it with my own eyes... I have even more doubts now."

He folded his arms, murmuring softly to himself. His gaze shifted to the distant horizon, as if trying to see through the mist… No, perhaps he truly wanted to know.

Is the Dark Lord really over there?

Will countless monsters truly emerge from that side, as the prophecy claims?

The rune in his hand glowed faintly, as if affirming something, or perhaps denying it.

But no matter what, I have already become a Hero.

Being a Hero isn't the end goal, and even if the prophecy comes true, killing the Demon Lord isn't the objective.

The "Hero" is merely a tool; "glory" is nothing more than a stepping stone in the process of restoring my family.

Yes, I—

"Rhett."

The voice.

Familiar, calling.

I turned around, and in the sea breeze and the setting sun, the figure of a cloaked girl with a ponytail came into view.

"Why did you call me here?"

I kept my face as expressionless as possible, softly uttering her name.

"Rista."

In the warm golden light of the sunset, tears were welling up at the corners of her eyes.

It was easy to notice, but I chose to ignore it.

Because we were enemies.

Even though we were once friends, once shared joyful childhood memories.

We were childhood sweethearts.

Her father was a comrade of my grandfather, and we had always been together since we were little.

The weak me was often bullied, and she was always there, standing in front of me, protecting me.

— Rhett, I'll protect you!

Since that moment, I secretly fell in love with her.

But all of that shattered when we both reached the age of awakening our abilities.

She, with her excellent magical circuits, and I, unable to use any magic, the result at that magic academy was predictable.

She, with her excellent grades, ended up with the prince who was lurking in the school at the time, and both of them later became candidates to be heroes.

And then, in this war, we became enemies.

The brutal war pushed us to the forefront, and our duel became inevitable.

But even if I won in the end, taking the prince's candidacy from her… she still didn't choose me.

But she was my first love. I still had feelings for her, and that was undeniable, and it wouldn't change.

Even in the midst of war, this feeling had repeatedly become my weakness, but I...

"I'm sorry..."

Something slid down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Rhett... I'm sorry..."

It was tears.

Big drops of tears, falling continuously.

"Wha-what happened? What's wrong?"

"I-I..."

She faltered.

Her crying echoed in my ears, and the poker face that I had been holding up began to crack.

Did I do something wrong? Or was it about the war?

"If it's about what happened during the war, I've already told you there's no need to apologize again."

After all... I saved you just out of selfishness.

Unconsciously, my feet moved, pulling my body toward her.

"N-no, it's not that... I..."

Her shoulders trembled slightly, and she raised her head, her brown eyes shimmering with tears at such a close distance, causing me to unconsciously hold my breath.

"Rhett was my partner... but I... I just..."

This is not the time to be nervous! I forced my inexplicable nervousness to calm down, steadied my breath, and tried to comfort her with a gentle tone.

"It's not your fault. At that time, we were both enemies. It's only natural that enemies fight each other in this game."

"I know... I know, but I still can't forgive myself... even though you, Rite, did that for me..."

"I've told you, there's no need to apologize again."

Seeing that she was about to cry again, I involuntarily grabbed her shoulders, raising my voice slightly.

"R-Rhett..."

A faint red hue instantly appeared on her face, especially noticeable under the golden sunset light.

"S-sorry!"

I immediately distanced myself from her and apologized, feeling as though my face was burning.

"Ha... Heh, even though you're cold-hearted on the battlefield, you're still the same as before, Rhett."

She wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes and finally smiled.

"You're so annoying..."

I scratched the back of my head, feeling embarrassed, my gaze wandering elsewhere.

"But... I still can't understand."

Rista, who had moved forward on her own, tilted her head slightly as she stared directly at me.

"Why, even though we were enemies, did you choose to save me?"

Because I love you.

That's something I could never say so nonchalantly.

"Because a true hero wouldn't let someone die in front of them, right?"

This line felt just as shameful as my true feelings.

I spoke with an awkward smile, thinking that Rista would probably smile at my foolish behavior.

"wouldn't... let someone die in front of you..."

"Rista?"

I didn't understand her murmuring, so I tilted my head and looked at her.

"Emm... Rhett."

Her small hands clenched tightly on her chest, and her head was lowered, hiding her expression.

"If it was a former partner in danger, would you save them?"

"...I would, I guess."

I couldn't bring myself to say something like "because I'm a hero."

Perhaps, the 'partner' Rista mentioned means herself.

Understanding it that way, I felt no regret in my answer. Standing tall, facing the sea breeze, I gazed once more at the thick mist across the sea.

"Even if... it meant sacrificing your own life?"

Rista's voice, after the sea breeze had carried it, became much softer.

"If it's for a partner, "

If it's for you.

My words were vastly different from my inner voice, but I still said it without hesitation.

"I would not hesitate."

"...!"

Whether it was the cold or because of my words, Rista's shoulders trembled slightly.

"It's about time. If we delay any further, it will be too late..."

"For Prince Lestor..."

"Rista?"

I couldn't hear what Rista had muttered as she lowered her head, and I had already taken a step forward before I stopped.

"It's getting late. We should..."

"I'm sorry, Rhett."

When she lifted her head, her gaze still flickering, but her eyes were no longer confused.

What did she mean by this?

Boom!

"If Prince Lestor can't become a hero, he will die."

Her hands suddenly pushed me, and before my body could react to the force that disrupted my balance...

Wha-what's happening?

My feet lost support, and my wide eyes were filled with deep confusion.

Why did you push me, Rista? What's behind me... behind me...

The cliff.

"So, for Prince Leicester... I'm sorry, Rhett."

That voice felt like a bolt from the blue.

— Why were the hero candidates already chosen, and yet they had to take the survivors too?

No, no, I!

I!

"Rista!"

I stretched out my hand with all my might, hoping she would reach out to me.

But what awaited me...

"You must die here."

Only Rista's cold, indifferent eyes.

I finally understood.

Those eyes awakened the brain that had been dormant since the war ended, and the gears began to turn. Countless formulas were recalculating at an incredible speed.

But even with the brain that had saved me countless times in the war, this time it was helpless.

Why...

Why did I stop thinking?

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I desperately reached out to her.

Why...

"Ah... Ah... Ah..."

I waved my hands with all my strength, but I could no longer grasp anything.

What entered my vision, was only that figure of the girl, retreating quickly.

My childhood sweetheart.

My first love.

Rista.

"Ahhhhh..."

Tears flew in the air, and I finally saw the truth, clenching my teeth. With bloodshot eyes, I glared at the girl's face.

For Lestor... For that damn prince...

Rista! For that damn prince, you can even abandon me, the one who saved you!

"I won't let you go..."

The fierce wind, and my vision distorting with the force of gravity, I used every ounce of strength I had left.

"I won't forgive youuu...!"

My furious roar.

Thud!

With the sea water crashing in, I was swallowed by the deep darkness, along with the hero's mark on the back of my hand, and my consciousness faded completely.