Volume 1 Chapter 15 – | Artlily | Dark Forest (Interlude)

The crackling of the firewood snapped softly in the stillness.

The temple knights responsible for guarding the return journey were already asleep.

“…Hehe.”

We were halfway through the Dark Forest of the demon territories, at the same camp spot we had used on the way in. It had been about half a month since we left the Demon Lord’s castle.

The Demon Lord had been vanquished, and the monsters were now subdued. The night’s camp no longer felt as dangerous. I sat by the firelight, reading a letter, reflecting on the journey here.

“What are you reading?”
“Marie-san.”

I showed the letter to Rozenmarie, the Rose Shrine Maiden. It seemed she couldn’t sleep.

The temple knights in charge of our protection no longer said anything. For them, the hero was already a figure of the past.

Where could Joachim, the commander of the temple knights, be at this moment?

It was I who taught Kyosuke-san how to read. Though, he understood it quickly, and I was soon no longer needed.

When I expressed my surprise at how fast he learned, he blushed and said, “Maybe it’s one of the perks of being summoned?”

But there’s no such thing.

There was, however, a communication spell used in hero summoning. Since heroes were brought from worlds with entirely different languages, this measure was necessary.

However, both combat and learning depended on the hero’s abilities. There were quite a few past heroes who never fully mastered Alefgard’s written language.

“Would you read it for me? I understand less than Kyosuke.”
“Hehe… Learning is fun, you know.”

The oracle maidens, the hero’s attendants. The title they commonly gave us was “hero’s shrine maidens.” There were three of us, human women. Each of us had been living our own lives as commoners before the gods gave their divine oracles, judging only by talent. In the eyes of the gods, royalty, nobles, and commoners were all equal.

If Marie puts her mind to it, I’m sure she can do it too.

“Maybe the real talent is in being able to maintain motivation?”
“Ahem. ‘How can you know what lies ahead unless you walk the path? If you hesitate, there is no path. But if you take that first step, a path will appear. Do not doubt yourself. You will understand once you walk it.’ This is something people from another world say, and it’s true. The important thing is taking that first step.”

Yes, it really is, Lily thought.

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When I was 13, during the Month of Abundance, in the far northwestern region of the continent, there was a town called Nibelung. In that town’s only church, I received my divine oracle.

Since childhood, I was obsessed with reading. Sky castles, swarms of insects like monsters from the Rotten Forest, lands inhabited by divine beasts, iron carriages, ships that sailed to the stars. I especially loved myths and fantastical stories.

I could witness the ritual of the hero’s summoning, meet someone from another world. I didn’t care about the mission of being a shrine maiden. That was all that mattered to me.

Like the children and adults around me, I was also enthralled by tales of heroes, but they felt like convenient, glorified stories, edited for entertainment.

The title of “shrine maiden” was nothing more than a romantic excuse for the love stories that followed those shrine maidens who often ended up with heroes who failed to defeat the Demon Lord.

There’s no way human life is so full of dramatic highs and lows. It should be far more raw and gritty. These stories were too clean.

I don’t know if this was because I was raised in the harsh, cold land of Nibelung, but I knew these stories were distributed and propagated by the church for its own purposes.

The extent to which they had permeated society was abnormal. They must have edited the stories many times to ensure they appealed to the masses. The differences between the first edition and the current versions were obvious.

So when I first saw that seemingly unreliable boy from another world, I was sure. No such story could ever be born from him.

The first time I met him, he was a boy who looked gentle but carried an air of sorrow. He had black eyes and black hair, features no one in Alefgard possessed. His intelligent black eyes were drenched in resignation, and his mysterious black hair shone like the silk the gods themselves wore. This was my hero.

To begin with, the humans from the central-western part of the continent were too bulky. I didn’t like that. Their voices were too loud. I didn’t like that either.

This boy from another world, however, was wise and calm.

Just after a brief conversation, I could tell that he was always updating his understanding of the current situation, assessing his options, determining his allies, and grasping the environment surrounding him.

He wasn’t like the hero in the stories. He was more like the mythological hunter Loewe from the legends of Nibelung, which I had admired since childhood.

I was strongly drawn to him. I didn’t care about the oracle or the Demon Lord. I was irresistibly attracted to this boy from another world.

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“Since you’ve said so, I’ll give learning a try.”
“Yes, maybe you’ll even be able to read Kyosuke-san’s scribbles.”

“Scribbles…?”
“Writing quickly when you barely have a moment to spare, like you’re scribbling furiously.”

“That’s too much like another world. The pen would break.”
“It seems they make them from durable materials.”

“That sounds intense. So, what did it say?”
“…It’s a confession from the heart. It even mentions you, Marie-san.”

Hero, Todou Kyosuke.
The Sword of Mankind that vanquishes evil. The Blade of Hope. The one who brings peace to the world. Our journey of divine oracle, which I walked alongside him, had come to an end by our own magic.

I didn’t want it to end.

I wanted him to take me with him.

I wanted to be his only princess.

But I wanted to fulfill his wish.

So, I killed him.

The story of the hero.

What was written was neither an exaggeration nor an embellishment. It was the truth. The apostle of the gods, the symbol of hope. He brought salvation to those in despair, smiles to those in sorrow. A journey brimming with light, truly one of salvation.

At least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.

The internal conflict and anguish Kyosuke Todou, just an ordinary boy, felt about those he couldn’t save—he wrote those down for me in these letters. I had asked him to write in his world’s language, so the overseers wouldn’t understand, and to pour out his heart here, his only space for confession.

“…I see.”
“Yes.”

I had already fulfilled the secret mission entrusted to me by the Saintess.

From now on, I would simply be Artlily. No longer the hero’s shrine maiden, but a woman who fell in love with a boy from another world. He, like any young man, struggled, suffered, and brought salvation despite his own sorrows.

I will decipher his writings.

I will decipher them and rewrite the story of the hero.

At the very least, on this final night, I make this vow. Along with the seed he gave me, I will see it bloom.

I stroked my stomach and bowed my head in thought.

If only we could meet again.

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