Rebellion Rising from the Depths: Mocked by the Hero Who Impregnated My Childhood Friend Before My Very Eyes. - Chapter 11: Erased Name.

Erased Name.

“I’m going to the Guild’s archive.”

After Fiona declared, “I will be your first accomplice,” silence fell over the storage room for a long while.

The candle flame flickered thin and weak, casting long shadows of the collapsed medicine shelves across the floor. Outside, a bustling murmur like the lingering scent of a festival persisted, but by the time it reached the semi-basement storage room, it sounded like a distant, otherworldly noise.

Noah remained still, looking straight ahead with the crystal plate and the bundle of papers resting on his knees.

He had evidence. But it wasn’t enough. On its own, this would only be seen as “unsettling records witnessed by a former Temple candidate” and “the claims of an incompetent man who is supposed to be dead.” To truly bring Leon down, he needed something deeper, broader—something that would seal away every single escape route.

Fiona quietly spoke as she lightly wiped the tips of her bandaged fingers.

“Just the face I expected.”

“What face?” “The face that says this isn’t enough.”

Noah didn’t answer. His silence was response enough.

Fiona let out a small breath and sat down on top of the stone box.

“Yeah. You’re right. This isn’t enough. Leon is a Hero, and the Temple has already taken that man’s side. If they feel like it, my copied records will just be dismissed as ‘the fabrications of a crazed candidate.'”

“Then what do we need?”

The question was brief, but the depths of his voice were cold.

Fiona lowered her gaze to the bundle of papers on Noah’s knees.

“A cross-reference with the originals. The flow of the falsification. Who erased your name, where, and how.”

In other words, it meant they didn’t just need proof that “Leon was stealing.” They needed evidence that “those around him were arranging the records to match what he stole.”

Noah suddenly recalled the sound of a desk being slammed in the Guild’s interrogation room. The sound of the disqualification stamp being hammered onto his adventurer’s license. The faces of everyone who had been in that room. It wasn’t necessarily that no one doubted the situation. Even if they had doubted it, a mechanism to crush those doubts had been prepared in advance.

“The Guild, then.” “Yes,” Fiona nodded.

“The Temple’s medical ledgers are sealed. However, the Guild is the one keeping your injury applications, reward distributions, post-mission achievement reports, and party composition change forms. The ledgers for public disclosure and the original copies for internal storage are kept separate.” “Is there any guarantee the originals are still there?” “Not all of them. But the more rushed the erasure, the sloppier it gets.”

Saying this, Fiona traced a simple layout on the floor of the storage room with her finger. It was the rough structure of the Guild’s main building. The front reception, the grand hall, the interrogation room on the second floor, and the administrative wing in the back. And right behind that, a small, protruding stone annex.

“The archive is here. Ordinary adventurers only ever enter the reading room at most. The originals, uncorrected reports, and accident logs are kept in the sealed archives underground.” “You’re remarkably well-informed.” “The Temple and the Guild exchange information regarding the wounded. Back when I was a candidate, I entered a few times to hand over documents.”

At that, she let out a cynical smile.

“Of course, I’m banned from entering now.”

Noah looked down at the layout on the floor.

“What about guards?” “Two night watchmen, and an occasional patrol. The problem is the sealing formula on the door. It’s not just a physical lock.” “Can you break it?” “A little bit.”

Fiona’s answer wasn’t immediate. There was genuine hesitation in her voice.

“But it won’t be perfect. I’m not a high priest, and I lost my crest after being removed from candidacy. It will take time.” “Then I’ll smash it.” “If you smash it, it’ll be over before we even step inside.”

Fair point, Noah thought.

The air in the storage room was cold, yet the back of his mind felt feverish. He had crawled his way up from the Abyss, gone to his father’s grave, witnessed Lydie and Leon together, and now had “evidence” thrust right in front of him. Because of it all, his mind was racing ahead. But his body wasn’t keeping up. The wound in his flank still throbbed with heat, and his legs weren’t at full strength.

Even so, he had no reason to wait.

Leon had a coronation ceremony lined up right after his engagement announcement. The higher the glory stacked, the louder the sound would be when he fell. But at the same time, Leon would undoubtedly come to extinguish all sparks before that happened. The men who had been pursuing Fiona were proof of that.

“We go tonight.” “……I figured you’d say that.”

Fiona pressed her fingers against her temple.

“You really wear the face of someone rushing to his death and someone rushing to live all at the same time.” “Well, I’m supposed to be dead anyway.” “I hate that it doesn’t sound like a joke.”

Despite her words, she didn’t stop him.

Instead, she pulled out a gray powder and a small vial from the bottom of the stone box.

“I’ll hide the bruises on your face a little. I’ll cover the scent of blood, too. Just enough so that if you walk through the warehouse district, you’ll look like an injured man, but not someone who just crawled out of the Abyss.” “Does such a convenient medicine really exist?” “What exactly do you think a former Saint Candidate is?”

For a brief moment, the corners of her mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk.

She applied a paste made of mixed herbs and ash to his cheeks and the nape of his neck. It felt cool, and as it dried, his skin tone took on a soot-covered appearance. She rubbed a bit of ash into his hair as well, messing up its shape. Pulling the hood of his cloak down deep, he became unrecognizable at a glance.

Noah polished his short sword and refastened it to the cloth at his waist. He had no intention of fighting at the Guild. But for the current him, weapons weren’t limited to blades alone. Rather, his true blade was the crest resting upon his palm.

Before they left, Fiona held out a small piece of paper.

“This is a copy of a transit pass for the Temple’s old delivery entrance. It’s expired now, but under the night sky, they won’t notice right away.” “You certainly hold onto things, don’t you?” “Those who are cast aside have a hard time throwing away the things from before they were discarded.”

Her voice carried a faint trace of bitterness.

***

By the time they stepped out of the storage room, the night had grown thoroughly deep.

Far removed from the center of the festival, the Southern District had few lights left. Faint moonlight cast down upon the damp cobblestones, and the scent of the drainage canals drifted through the air. Noah and Fiona didn’t walk shoulder-to-shoulder; instead, they kept a short distance between them. Two people who were being hunted would draw eyes if they walked together. That kind of caution had already become second nature.

Along the way, someone’s drunken laughter echoed from across a corner. The two stopped without a word, pressing their bodies into the darkness. The men walked past. They noticed nothing. As Noah watched them walk away, a strange thought crossed his mind.

I’m alive.

Holding his breath like this, choosing the shadows to walk through—he was undeniably alive.

He had been dropped into the Abyss, and on paper, he was dead. Yet here he was, breathing in the night air of the Royal Capital. It felt surreal, absurd, and a little infuriating.

By the time they circled around to the back of the Guild’s main building, the bells signaling the late hours of the night chimed twice.

The front still had lights lingering late into the night, but the back was dark. In the narrow alleyway connecting the warehouses to the administrative wing, two old carts lay abandoned. Fiona signaled with her eyes and pressed further inside.

“This way.”

Where she led him was a stone corridor between the main building and the annex, one that was scarcely used. An old copper gutter ran along the edge of the floor. It seemed to be a path meant for transporting documents and medical records without letting them get wet in the rain.

At the dead end of the corridor, in front of a small iron door, Fiona dropped to her knees.

In the center of the door, completely separate from the lock, a circular holy seal was carved. A faint blue light pulsed from it.

“Is this the seal?” “Yes. It’s simple, but troublesome.”

Fiona dropped a few drops of a transparent liquid from a small vial onto the holy seal. With a tiny sizzling sound, the light wavered. She then traced the seal with her fingertip, whispering an old prayer in a low voice. The sound was quiet, but the cadence was precise. It must have been beaten into her during her days as a candidate.

Noah kept watch on their surroundings. The night was quiet. But during moments like this, his own breathing and heartbeat sounded unbearably loud.

Eventually, Fiona spoke in a low voice.

“Now.” “Is it open?” “For just three breaths, the formula will go blind.”

Noah immediately gripped the handle. It was heavy. But as he forced it down, the door groaned open with a dull, scraping sound. The two slipped inside and shut it immediately.

The interior was a narrow passageway. Shelves lined the stone walls, piled high with sealed document boxes. The smell of paper, ink, and mold was thick. This was only the antechamber. The actual archive was further inside.

They moved forward, killing their footsteps. Every time they turned a corner, a restless stir rose deep within Noah’s chest. To think that the inside of the Guild building he had walked through so many times possessed a face like this. All adventurers ever saw was the reception desk and the request board. Behind that, their lives, deaths, achievements, and names were being rearranged upon shelves just like these.

Fiona stopped in front of the second door.

“Beyond here is the original registry.” “Is it tougher than the last one?” “Considerably.”

True to her words, a faint golden line traced the edges of the door. The density of the seal was entirely different.

Fiona set her mouth in a firm line and pulled out another vial. This time, fine silver powder shifted inside. As she sprinkled it over the golden line, she closed her eyes. Her expression looked less like a prayer and more like she was calculating the inverse of a formula.

“……I used to watch the priest who held the keys to the records room do this all the time. With this, the flow of the core should break for just a moment……” “And if it fails?” “The alarm bells will ring.” “Concise.” “So keep quiet.”

Noah fell silent.

A few seconds passed. No, it might have been even longer. Eventually, a portion of the golden line wavered and broke. Sweat beaded on Fiona’s forehead.

“Now.”

He pushed the door. This time, it felt even heavier than before. It felt less like physical resistance and more like the air itself was fighting back. Noah ignored the pain in his flank, throwing his weight into it to pry a gap open. Once a space just wide enough for a single person was made, the two slid inside.

***

The original registry room was silent.

It was so quiet that it felt like a room where time had ground to a halt. There was only a small ventilation window near the ceiling, and the only illumination came from three magical lamps on the walls. Their pale blue light cast a cold glow over the endless rows of bookshelves.

Bookshelves, bookshelves, bookshelves.

Leather-bound ledgers. Document tubes with wax seals. Thin crystal plates engraved with magical imprints. The smell of paper. Dust. Old ink. The very years and months of the Royal Capital’s adventurers lay submerged within this room.

Noah was overwhelmed for a single fraction of a second.

His name had been here too. It was supposed to be here. And then it was erased.

Fiona moved into action immediately.

“Mission reports are in the southern row. Injury applications and compensation logs are in the eastern row. Achievement corrections are…… if I recall, the sealed box shelves in the back.” “You check the compensation logs. I’ll search for the mission reports.” “Even if you find it, don’t make a sound.” “Likewise.”

The two split up.

Noah advanced as if glaring at the southern row of bookshelves, tracing the years written on the spines. The recent ones. Then the ones before that. Around the time Leon’s subjugation unit had truly begun to draw attention. His fingertips trembled, making even the sound of flipping paper feel loud.

Eventually, he found his name.

‘Northern Canyon · Demon Wolf Pack Subjugation — Member List’ Hero: Leon Vals Vanguard Shield: Gareth Dawn Mage: Milena Edge Priest: Ewan Cern Vanguard Support: Noah Feld

Up to that point, it was fine.

The problem lay beyond that.

In the achievements column, Leon’s outstanding performance, Gareth’s defense, Milena’s annihilation magic, and Ewan’s purification support were recorded in detail. In contrast, Noah’s column contained only a single line.

‘Supplies transportation and casualty evacuation assistance.’

Noah’s grip tightened on the ledger, his hand straining.

That’s wrong.

On that day, he hadn’t stayed in the rear until the end. When the pack of demon wolves collapsed from the flank, Gareth’s shield broke, and fangs nearly reached Leon’s flank. At that moment, he had taken upon himself the damage that should have crushed Leon, and he had collapsed because of it. That was why he had slept for three days with a raging high fever that night.

Yet there was nothing in the ledger.

The next mission, and the one after that, were exactly the same. The backlash of curses. Magical contamination. Unknown degradation. On the records, none of it existed.

Noah reached his hand out toward an even older bundle of documents. When he did, he noticed something unnatural. The paper quality of only a single portion of the report was different. It was new. Furthermore, the binding holes at the edge were slightly misaligned. It had been swapped out.

He gently turned the page, and at the bottom, the faint impression of the previous text remained. He held it up to the light. It was difficult to read, but one word stood out clearly.

‘Proxy for Outflowing Curses’

Proxy.

Only that part still lived beneath the erased text.

A cold chill ran down Noah’s spine.

Proxy.

Long ago, someone had called it that. He suddenly remembered an old-timer adventurer laughing at a tavern, saying, “Did another proxy role break down?” Back then, he hadn’t understood the meaning. He had assumed it was some slang term for a handyman.

Fiona called out in a low voice.

“Noah.”

Turning around, he saw her holding an armful of ledgers. Her complexion was pale.

“Look at this.”

He stepped into the shadow of the eastern row of shelves. What Fiona had open was the injury compensation log. Listed there were medical stipends, recuperation allowances, and payments to long-term degraded individuals after missions.

On the line where Fiona placed her finger, Noah’s name was written.

‘Noah Feld — Long-term Degradation Compensation: 12 times’ ‘Curse Damage Supplement: 7 times’ ‘Holy Attribute Backlash Treatment: 5 times’ ‘Unidentified Multiple Degradation: 9 times’

Noah’s eyes widened.

During his interrogation, not a single word about these items had ever been brought up. Furthermore, the frequency was abnormal. His own senses had been numbed to it, but seeing it lined up on paper made him realize how insane it truly was.

“But look here.”

Fiona turned the page.

On the very same line as Noah’s name, there was a mark that looked as though it had been added later.

‘Payment suspended’ ‘Deficiency in proof of achievement’ ‘Outside of assistance parameters upon re-examination’ ‘Inappropriate for public relations; handle internally’

Only that last sentence was written in vermilion ink.

Inappropriate for public relations.

What did public relations have to do with an adventurer’s injuries?

A low laugh nearly escaped the depths of Noah’s throat. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. To protect the image of a flawless Hero, the existence of a support role who broke down behind the scenes was “inappropriate for public relations,” so they erased it. It was written right there on the paper.

“That’s not all.”

Fiona opened yet another page.

What lay written there was a name he didn’t know.

‘Old Maine — Rear Guard Proxy Role — Long-term Curse Damage Compensation: 3 times’ ‘Vanished following treatment outside of assistance parameters’

Next.

‘Sera Vint — Support Holy Role — Suspected Contamination Proxy’ ‘Records organized and settled’

Next.

‘Hulk Neun — Load Distribution Role’ ‘Organized and settled — Insanity due to unknown causes’

Noah was left speechless.

He wasn’t the only one.

Before him, there had been other humans with the exact same role.

And not a single one of them had met a decent end. Vanished, organized and settled, driven insane, dead. It was exactly like discarding a tool once it broke from use, only to replace it with a new one.

“Have you ever seen them?” Fiona asked.

Noah slowly shook his head.

“I might have…… heard of them. The old-timers occasionally used the term ‘proxy role.'” “In other words, you weren’t special.”

That fact brought no comfort. Rather, it brought something closer to nausea.

He had thought that he was the only one trampled underfoot by Leon. But he was wrong. From much earlier, there had been those who supported him, those who took on his pain, support roles whose names wouldn’t even remain—and they had all been erased.

Noah couldn’t stop his hands from turning the pages of the ledger. Names he didn’t know lined the pages. Brief registration records. Abnormal injuries. Freezing of compensation. Inquiries forbidden. Organized and settled. Treated as deceased.

The common thread across every single page was that, at the very end, the names grew faint.

As if their very existence was being shaved away bit by bit.

Right then, Fiona pulled a thin bundle of sealed letters from a different shelf.

“This is……”

On the front of the envelope, it read: ‘Achievement Correction · External Inquiries Forbidden’. She opened it. Inside, a few instruction sheets were sandwiched together. The stamp of the Guild’s Vice-Leader, the stamp of the Temple’s records room, and an unfamiliar blue seal of the Royal Capital administration.

Noah snatched one of the sheets away.

‘In order to unify public relations regarding the Hero’s Commemoration projects, degradation records of rear-guard support personnel shall avoid individual names and be processed as a collective unit load.’ ‘Excessive compensation to said individuals may lead to misconceptions regarding the Hero’s image; organize and settle as necessary.’ ‘In the event of an inquiry, achievements shall be collectively credited to the primary vanguard member.’

Beneath that text, three stamps sat side-by-side.

The Guild. The Temple. And the Kingdom’s Public Relations Bureau.

Noah gripped the paper tightly, his hand trembling with force.

With this, it was no longer a story that ended with Leon’s malice alone. It was a fact that the man had smiled while trampling over him. But the mechanism supporting that smile was far larger, far deeper rooted.

A Hero wasn’t created by a single person.

For the sake of glory, they hid inconvenient degradation, shaved away the names of support roles, and consolidated achievements into the vanguard. That kind of “system” existed.

“……What a piece of shit country.”

The words spilled naturally from Noah’s mouth.

Fiona didn’t offer a single word in response. She likely couldn’t. Having been in the Temple, she must have known of something close to this, even if only vaguely.

Breaking that silence was the sound of distant footsteps.

Both of them raised their heads at the same time.

Someone had entered the antechamber. The sound of keys. A man’s low voice. Another man’s reply. The night watch, or perhaps someone higher.

“Apparently, an inquiry came from the Commemoration Bureau to prepare for tomorrow’s announcement.” “Again? Anything involving the Hero is a real pain in the ass.” “There’s also the matter of that candidate girl who vanished. The Vice-Leader said to finish the re-inspection of all related documents by tonight.”

Fiona’s expression changed.

This was bad.

At this rate, they would run right into them inside the registry room.

Noah instinctively started to return the bundle of letters to its original shelf, but stopped. If he put it back, it would be buried again. But if he took it out, it would be discovered immediately.

Fiona shook her head slightly.

“We can’t take all of it. Only what we need.”

She pulled out her crystal plating copying tool and quickly pressed it against a few instruction sheets and the pages of the ledger. A faint light ran across them, burning the characters onto the crystal surface. Noah hammered the necessary page numbers into his head. Noah Feld. Old Maine. Sera Vint. Hulk Neun. Achievement correction instructions. Commemoration project. Inappropriate for public relations.

The sound of the antechamber door opening echoed.

“Hurry.” “You go first.” “Did you forget that you’re walking like a corpse right now?”

Without any time to argue, the two slid their bodies into a narrow gap deep within the bookshelves. Fiona placed a small silencing talisman behind the magic lamp. It wasn’t perfect, but it could at least mask the sound of their breathing.

The men entered the registry room.

There were two of them. A man who looked like an administrative official, and an armed night watchman. They held a light. As they walked between the bookshelves, the sound of rustling papers drew closer.

“Apparently, it wasn’t just medical crystals that the candidate girl took out.” “What a hassle.” “The Vice-Leader is desperate because he owes a debt of gratitude to Lord Leon. Even the Commemoration Bureau is involved; if a hole appears now, heads will roll.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed.

The Vice-Leader. Gratitude. The Commemoration Bureau.

It wasn’t just a system standing behind Leon. There were also people connected by personal interests. If they protected the Hero, they themselves would prosper. That was why they erased. That was why they shaved names away.

The men’s footsteps stopped right at the row directly in front of them.

“It should be around here. The ones related to the proxy roles.” “Yeah, that old binding. Add an ‘Inquiries Forbidden’ tag to it.” “Wouldn’t it be faster to just burn the whole thing?” “Idiot. If you burn the originals of a Commemoration Bureau project without permission, that’ll bring an audit on its own. That’s why we seal it.”

Proxy roles.

That phrase slipped out so naturally.

Noah clenched his fist within the gap of the bookshelf. His nails dug into his palm. They knew. At the very least, these guys did.

Eventually, the men moved to a different row. Fiona gently tugged on Noah’s arm. They could get out now.

The two slipped out from the gap without a sound and headed toward a small back door different from the one they had entered through. Fiona whispered that it was a ventilation duct for document removal that she had used only once before. The lock was rusted, and the seal was weak. When Noah pried it open, it made a sharp, grating sound, but it blended into the sound of pages turning across the bookshelves.

They crawled through the narrow ventilation duct. The dust made Noah’s throat ache. But if they didn’t get out before the alarm bells rang behind them, it would be over.

When they finally tumbled outside, it was into the shadow of the stone masonry behind the main building. Cold night air rushed into their lungs, and both of them exhaled at the same time.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

In the distance, the final orchestra of the festival was still playing. It was the sound of a night praising the Hero. Right beneath its feet, they had just dug up the names that had been erased.

Noah checked the copying crystal and the paper slips from inside his cloak. They were light. Yet, just like moments ago, they felt heavy enough to make his hands tremble.

Leaning her back against the wall, Fiona spoke in a low voice.

“Now you understand, don’t you?”

Noah didn’t answer.

Even without answering, he already understood.

Leon was trash. He had no intention of forgiving that man. But the problem didn’t end with him alone.

The Guild. The Temple. The Commemoration Bureau. The people who shaved away the names of support roles, painted over achievements, and processed degradation as “inappropriate for public relations.”

The ones who had trampled over his life weren’t just a single Hero and a single woman.

It was far broader. Far more rotten.

Noah looked up at the night sky. Clouds drifted over the Royal Capital, and beyond them, the shadow of the bell tower stood tall and black.

“……Good.”

A quiet voice slipped out.

Fiona looked at him from the side.

Clutching the copying crystal tightly, Noah spoke quietly.

“It just means this is no longer a story that ends with fixing things one person at a time.”

There was no shouting, no trembling in that voice. There was only a temperature like a cold blade forged at the bottom of the Abyss.