Vol 4 Chapter 77: “The Journey of Righteousness” (Vol 4: The Otherworldly Battlefield Arc)

“What a nuisance, these intruders.”

The scent of blood hung heavily in the air.

“Oh my, it’s a complete annihilation.”

Ah, I see. It must be because I’m lying here, collapsed in a pool of blood.

“Well, they were all failures from the start. No real loss here.”

Why did things turn out this way for me again?

“Indeed. One wonders what he was hoping to achieve by trying to lead a bunch of failures out of here.”

That’s right.

I’d heard about a research facility conducting human experiments.

“Who knows? Perhaps someone from a certain organization ordered him to steal their research subjects.”

I found the people who had been imprisoned there and tried to help them escape.

“Ha, as if stealing such failures would ever amount to anything.”

And then, I failed. Even when I tried to fight, I was defeated.

“Surely they could’ve sent someone with a better understanding of research for this.”

I had decided to protect everyone, to save them.

But in the end, I couldn’t protect anyone. I lost them all.

“Well, I’d have liked to ask him about it, but it seems he’s no longer in a state to talk.”

Ah, so this is it.

This pool of blood is…

“Well, it can’t be helped. For now…”

…it’s my own weakness.

“…let’s dispose of him.”

I could feel the voice of the person standing before me fading away.

I was beginning to understand that my body was far too destroyed to go on living.

I was starting to grasp the reality of my death.

Death itself.

I had believed that living righteously was the right thing to do.

I had no parents. I was born an orphan and raised in a token orphanage.

My childhood memories were nothing more than the constant hunger and the efforts to avoid angering the adults around me.

There wasn’t a single good memory, yet I still wanted to live righteously, if only for myself.

And I wanted to help those who couldn’t live righteously.

If you live righteously, you treat others with kindness and work hard.

If you do that, people will love you, and your efforts will eventually be rewarded.

If everyone could live like that, the world would be a happier place.

Even when I was betrayed or hurt, I clung to the belief that living righteously would bring its own rewards.

That was how I lived, and that was how the holy sword chose me.

I became a hero.

I was happy.

It felt as though everything I had done had been affirmed, as though my life had been the right one.

So, I thought, I would just keep doing the same thing.

Even when the king pressed a few coins into my hand and threw me out of the royal city.

Even when I was ordered to travel the kingdom, performing good deeds, I thought it was the ideal way for a hero to live.

I met people, listened to their stories, helped them, saved them, worked hard, and brought them happiness.

And yet.

I was betrayed, hated, hurt, and scorned.

I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t do anything. I brought them misery.

In this world, there are far more people who cannot be saved than those who can.

Even so, I kept trying to be righteous. And for what?

This is the result.

I could feel my eyelids growing heavier.

I understood my death.

A strange sense of relief washed over me.

I no longer needed to live.

Living had been painful.

The harder I tried to be righteous, the more someone would deny that righteousness.

The memories that replayed in my mind were far from pleasant.

“Was I… wrong?”

I hadn’t spoken aloud, but those words echoed in my mind as my answer to this world, just as I was about to close my eyes.

The conclusion my life had reached was that living righteously had been a mistake.

But perhaps, in its own way, knowing that was enough to make this an acceptable ending.

If so, then maybe this mistaken death was, in its own way, a form of salvation.

That thought filled my heart as my eyes finally began to close.

And at the very last moment, just before death took me, a memory surfaced.

It was a memory of being saved.

My eyelids refused to close.

What was this memory?

Ah, yes. I had been searching for a flower.

A flower I was never supposed to find. I wandered through rice fields for days, searching. Until I collapsed.

That’s right. It was then.

It was then that I met him.

The one and only memory I had of being saved by someone.

He listened to my story without hesitation, getting his feet dirty in the process.

He helped me, encouraged me, and got angry for my sake.

At that moment, I thought to myself—
I want to be someone like him.

I felt my fading consciousness return.

I didn’t know why.

But I remembered.

I had made a promise to him.

“When I meet him again, I’ll help him as a hero.”

This time, it wasn’t just in my head.

The words escaped my lips.

It was my resolve.

What was this relief I had been feeling?

What was this comfort?

Life is full of hardships.

Dying might make everything easier.

But even so.

There are things I must accomplish while alive.

As a hero.

“What’s this?”

The researchers, who had been preparing to leave, turned back to look at me.

Their faces showed astonishment. It made sense. After all, the person who had been on the verge of death was now standing—albeit covered in blood.

But even as I stood with newfound determination, my body was ready to collapse at any moment.

I was painfully aware that I was still nothing more than a weak, powerless existence.

“How are you standing in that condition?”

That’s why—

“This is… quite fascinating. Perhaps there’s some potential value in him as a test subject after all.”

—I must become stronger.

To protect someone, strength is necessary.

“Holy sword!”

I shouted pitifully, blood pouring from my body and spat from my lips.

“Grant me strength!”

Borrowed power would suffice.

Even if it’s not my own, even if it’s fake.

“Just give me enough strength to protect someone! Enough strength to save someone!”

The holy sword, a weapon said to grow stronger in response to the righteous deeds of its wielder.

But my holy sword had never grown stronger. Not even once.

“For that…”

I thought it was because my deeds weren’t good enough.

But I was wrong.

What I lacked was the resolve to cast aside my naivety.

“To cut down evildoers…”

I hated fighting people.

Even evildoers are still human.

But because I couldn’t bring myself to fight them—

People behind me had died.

That’s why I will fight.

“Grant me the power to defeat my enemies!”

What happened after that is a blur.

I fought. I fought with everything I had.

In the end, I turned my blade on the enemy and struck them down.

But I couldn’t bring myself to kill them.

I still don’t know if that was the right choice.

Afterward, I ran through the research facility. But everyone I had tried to save was already dead.

Yet, amidst all that tragedy, I found one.

Just one.

Deep within the facility, I found a little girl.

I thought to myself—I had saved someone.

And with that—

“Hey.”

—I woke up.

My head feels hazy.

I’m in a research facility—or no, that was a dream.

No, it was real, but it’s something from the past.

In front of me stands a woman with brown skin and green hair, glaring at me.

“What are you doing?”

Salva.

“No, I mean, King Salva.”

“St-stop it, Gehle.”

That’s right.

As I continued living as a hero, I became aware of the dark side of the Kingdom of Bainte. I fought alongside my companions to confront it.

Eventually, I became the King of Bainte.

This is the King’s Chamber. It’s so spacious that it feels wasteful for just me, so I share it with my companions.

“That’s right. Even if you’re just a figurehead, you’re still the King. I need you to act like one.”

Next to me, a small girl, around twelve years old, complains while lying sprawled on the floor in a more relaxed posture than mine.

Despite her demeanor, she’s a reliable companion with her holy magic as a hunter.

“Sorry, Casador.”

She had once been under the rule of the King of Bainte but fled after being given impossible orders and collapsed on the roadside.

I’d heard she was a wild child born in the forest, but if we hadn’t happened upon her, she likely would have starved to death.

“I hate that name,” she grumbles, turning over in a pout to face away from me.

She never had a name—perhaps she didn’t need one.

But I thought it was lonely, so I gave her one myself.

She doesn’t seem to like it, but she doesn’t respond to anything else I call her, and she refuses to accept a new name.

All I can do is chuckle awkwardly and let it slide.

As I’m thinking this, someone suddenly hugs me from the side.

“Whoa!”

Startled, I turn to see Sione wrapping her arms around me, stroking my head as she holds me close.

“Taking a nap on the throne, huh? You’ve really made it big,” she teases.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

Sione.

A woman blessed with the holy magic of the Trickster.

If it weren’t for her, we probably would have been wiped out.

She appeared out of nowhere during a critical moment, lending us her strength unexpectedly.

She became part of our group before we even knew what was happening, and even now, I still don’t understand much about her.

But she’s a precious companion nonetheless.

These are my companions:

• • Gehle, the warrior.

• • Casador, the hunter.

• • Sione, the trickster.

And—

“When you’re done, work.”

“Yeah, sorry, Marco. I’ll get to it right away.”

Marco, the mage.

The one person I managed to save.

Though, to be honest, most of my memories of her since then are of relying on her holy magic.

“Oh, and about what I mentioned earlier,” I say, sorting through the mountain of paperwork in front of me by order of importance as I speak to everyone.

“I still want to go and defeat the Demon King as soon as possible.”

I say it firmly, despite having been asleep just moments before.

“Even as we sit here, monsters are attacking people. Lives that could be saved are being lost. I’ve grown stronger, and we have the holy magic users on our side. I think we can defeat the Demon King now.”

It’s a sentiment I’ve expressed countless times.

And, as always, no one agrees with me.

“Listen, Salva.”

Gehle, who has long since stopped even voicing his exasperation, sighs as he answers.

“You’ve definitely gotten stronger. After fighting through the conflict with the Kingdom of Bainte, you’ve become someone who even surpasses us holy magic users.”

But that’s exactly why—

“We can’t let you do this.”

“The independent state of Bainte. The word ‘independent’ has a bad ring to it, but it really just means the country was ruled with absolute authority by the King. Whatever atrocities he committed in secret, that absolute power was what held this nation together.”

Bainte was originally a collection of small states.

They were unified long ago during a war.

Even now, there are vast differences in culture and people within the nation.

“With the King gone, the country could fall apart again. And you, as the new King, are the symbol holding it together.”

To unite a nation with so many cultural and ideological differences, the absolute power of a ruler made things convenient.

But without that, the divisions could lead to wars between the various cultures.

That’s why we exposed the former King’s misdeeds and made you, the hero who brought him to justice, the new King—a symbol of unity.

I understand that.

“But I’m a hero,” I protest.

“And that’s exactly why. That title gives the people reassurance. It makes them follow your lead,” Gehle counters.

“I know, but…”

The former King’s crimes were brought to light, and my title as a hero became something positive in the eyes of the people.

They believed me innocent of the former King’s exploitation of taxes and services under the guise of hero support.

My companions tell me it’s because many people witnessed my sincere efforts to help those in need throughout the kingdom. But I think they’re giving me too much credit.

“The Demon King is an unknown quantity. If we go, we’ll prepare thoroughly and go as a group. But we don’t know how long the battle will last or even if we can win.”

“Meanwhile, would you abandon this country?”

Gehle’s final words are always the same.

And I can never respond to them.

“What you’ve done is right. The revolution against Bainte has undoubtedly made people happy. That’s still true now. So please, just wait a little longer.”

With his calm reasoning, I find myself nodding in agreement every time.

I stay silent, nod, sort through paperwork while Sione distracts me, convince Casador to travel around the country to reassure the citizens, help Gehle fight monsters to earn the people’s trust, and then return to take on the next batch of administrative tasks Marco assigns me.

With no time to rest, my companions and I live like this every day.

And amidst all that, as I skim through documents, a thought crosses my mind.

What if he were here?

That man who helped others without regard for his own gain, who asked for no reward and struck down evil wherever it appeared.

What would someone like him do in this situation?

For a brief moment—

I thought of Sukui.