The Man Who Remained — His Second Life Began with a Humble Bow of Apology. - Chapter 64: The Reason the Hero Was Able to Remain Human.

The Reason the Hero Was Able to Remain Human.

The Hero.

The title of humanity’s savior—such a name was never one to be taken lightly.

Though it was a name burdened with immense responsibility, everyone believed that the current hero, Claude van Brave Dilshield, was truly worthy of it.

After all, he had defeated the Demon King and become king himself, and even now, with his mission fulfilled, he continued to protect his people.

In terms of achievements alone, there was no doubt that he was the greatest man not only among all past heroes, but in the entire history of humankind.

Regardless of what he truly felt in his heart, his accomplishments alone placed him firmly at the pinnacle.

That said, even Claude was not invincible.

Victory often depended on luck, and there were times when he lost.

To say nothing of gambling or games—he was bound to lose at such things every now and then.

Though the number of such losses could be counted on both hands, Claude certainly knew what it meant to lose.

However, almost all of those losses were later avenged, turned out to be more meaningful than victory, or were deliberate, so they weren’t true defeats in the real sense.

In his entire life, there was only a single time when Claude truly lost—when he was defeated in such a way that he felt his heart completely yield.

***

Six months had passed since the four heroes welcomed Cross as their new companion.

To them, Cross was not just a pillar of emotional support, but also an exceptionally useful member.

Firstly, they could trust him with cooking.

That alone meant a great deal to the four who constantly feared being poisoned—but his worth did not end there.

Whether it was handling small requests, helping those in need, or gathering information at taverns and public places, Cross performed better than most adventurers.

In any normal adventurer party, he would have been in high demand. To these four, Cross had become an irreplaceable comrade in every sense.

He always sought ways to help. Even when he failed, he gave his all to support them, especially assisting Claude whenever possible.

To the four who had seen nothing but ugly adults throughout their lives, Cross was nothing short of an oasis for their hearts.

That said, they were not without complaints.

At that particular time, the four of them shared an overwhelming sense of distress.

More than a complaint, it was a desperate wish:

They wanted him to stop his training regimen—so extreme that even the word “overwork” felt mild.

Cross, feeling the vast difference in power between himself and the four, pushed himself through brutal training every single day.

So harsh that they wondered if it was akin to torture.

Far from being beneficial, it was nothing but counterproductive.

No matter what method he tried, there was simply no way Cross could ever catch up to the four of them.

Between them lay an unbridgeable gulf of innate talent.

That was precisely why the four could not bring themselves to say it forcefully, yet still desperately wished for him to stop.

If anything happened, all of them would protect him together.

They never wanted him to become strong—that wasn’t what they sought from Cross.

Such thoughts lingered within them—

It was dinnertime, and the five were camping in their tents under the open sky.

But with all their magical conveniences and skilled mages, their outdoor life was hardly one of hardship.

During dinner, Claude called out to Cross.

“Cross. Do you have a moment?”

“What is it? Want seconds?”

Cross asked casually, but Claude shook his head.

“No. It’s just that…”

“If there’s something on your mind, just say it. I’ll fix whatever I can.”

Cross’s words carried his desperation to catch up with the four.

Hearing him, Sophia, Medil, and Mary all wore sorrowful expressions.

“…You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

Claude finally spoke.

“Push myself? What do you mean?”

Cross tilted his head, completely unaware of what Claude meant, leaving the four speechless.

Still, Claude, his concern genuine, continued to plead.

“We’ll handle the fighting. No, I will. It might sound arrogant, but I am the strongest human alive. So… you don’t need to force yourself to fight.”

Hearing Claude’s earnest wish—

Cross snapped.

“…What? What the hell are you saying, Claude… Do you even realize what you’re telling me? Hey! Don’t mess with me!”

Grabbing Claude by the collar, Cross’s sudden rage froze everyone.

***

In six months, Cross had shown irritation at times, but never such explosive anger.

Seeing him like this was completely beyond their expectations.

“But… if you do that, Cross will…”

Mary tried to intervene, but Cross rejected her words outright.

“You too… Why…?”

With pained eyes, he looked at the three, then flushed red and ran off.

They knew they should chase after him, but his outburst left them too stunned to move.

Ten minutes passed in silence.

Finally, Mary whispered,

“He really wants to become stronger… He’s been worried about it all this time, about how far apart we are…”

“…I phrased it poorly,”

Claude muttered in regret, now slightly calmer.

To tell someone striving to grow stronger, someone who admired strength, that they should stop fighting—

It was nothing short of an insult.

No wonder he was furious.

“Normally, I’d tear you apart for this… but this time, we’re all guilty. None of us have the right to say anything.”

Medil’s words were met with silent nods from Sophia and Mary.

“But if he leaves the party because of this, I swear I’ll curse you to death.”

Medil spoke her hatred clearly.

“Don’t worry. If it comes to that, you won’t need to bother. I’ll end my own life.”

Because he knew he could no longer bear a life without Cross.

Claude was certain of that.

In their hearts, the four had become completely dependent on Cross over these past six months.

Not as someone special, but as someone normal—someone who treated them like people.

They could no longer resist the comfort he brought.

“…Sophia. Could you go after him?”

Mary’s words surprised the others.

“What? I don’t mind, but…”

Her hesitation was simple to understand.

Everyone wanted the chance to connect with Cross. For Mary to give up that opportunity was unthinkable until now.

“I know what you’re thinking. Of course I want to go too. But… Sophia is the best choice right now.”

“…Yeah. I think so too. Even though I’m the one who screwed up.”

Medil agreed with Claude, and Sophia bowed her head lightly before leaving to find Cross.

***

Sophia returned thirty minutes later.

And as soon as she did, she burst into tears.

She, so dignified and called a saint by many, wept uncontrollably like a child, standing where she was without restraint.

She ignored all questions, offering no answers, only crying and crying until she finally quieted down and spoke.

“…We have not repaid him nearly enough…”

“Sophia, what do you—”

Claude tried to ask, but she shook her head and looked straight at him.

“For a while… about two weeks, I think. Cross and I will act separately.”

“What? There’s no way we can allow—”

Cross was their pillar.

No one would permit something that seemed like an act of selfishness.

Mary bristled with anger as she spoke, but Sophia cut her off coldly.

“Whether you approve is irrelevant. It is already decided. Cross has made his choice.”

Medil reached out to stop Sophia.

“You’re just dragging him along for your own desires—”

“My personal feelings have nothing to do with this. His time is far too precious to waste on such meaningless things.”

Sophia’s words were uncharacteristically harsh.

No one expected such forcefulness from her, and in their shock, Sophia slipped away to rejoin Cross.

***

“…Hah, what a pathetic hero I am… damn it!”

Claude cursed himself, kicking a tree so hard it splintered deeply despite its thick roots.

The thought that his own strength had hurt Cross made him loathe himself even more.

A week passed since Cross and Sophia left.

The remaining three wasted their days, doing nothing of significance.

They knew that “separate actions” implied they would return eventually.

And so, waiting was their only choice.

Or rather, they couldn’t bring themselves to do anything else.

Though their lives had simply returned to how they were before Cross joined, the three felt empty and purposeless.

One day, a timid voice called out from Claude’s tent.

“Hero… may I come in?”

It was Sophia’s voice.

Claude hurriedly sat up and opened the entrance—not to welcome her, but because her presence meant Cross was near.

“Sophia! Where’s Cross…?”

“He is waiting over there… Please… at least, do not trample upon his resolve… please…”

Her words trembled as tears streamed freely down her face.

Though nearly his betrothed, Claude had rarely seen such raw emotion from her. She always wore a saintly, serene smile.

“…Of course. But if it comes to it…”

“I understand. If that day comes, I will kill you myself.”

“Good. I told Medil I’d handle it, but who knows what I’d do when the time comes.”

With that, Claude walked out to face Cross.

In a small clearing beside their tents, where trees were felled in a perfect circle long ago, Cross stood.

His body was battered from training harsher than ever before.

He glared at Claude with fierce eyes.

To be hated hurt.

Claude had never felt that before.

Yet, at the same time, he felt happy.

Happy that he could be someone special to Cross.

That he, a monster, was finally being truly seen by someone who wasn’t worshiping or fearing him.

“Cross… I’m sorry. I hurt your pride. I don’t know how to apologize, but—”

Before he could finish, something hot struck his cheek.

It was only after he fell hard to the ground that he realized it was Cross’s fist.

A full-powered punch.

Despite the force of Cross’s fury, Claude’s body remained uninjured.

That fact filled him with hopeless despair.

He couldn’t even bear Cross’s anger with his body.

But Cross was far more enraged.

“You know what pisses me off the most about you!? My pride!? Who gives a damn about that! It’s the way you always look down on people!”

Cross roared, his breath ragged.

Claude could say nothing in return.

He never meant to look down on anyone.

But the fact remained: he was above all of humanity.

No matter how many humans challenged him, he would always win.

That was simply how he was made.

“Get up! You’re not so weak that you’d stay down from that, are you!?”

Obediently, Claude rose to his feet, hoping to ease Cross’s anger even slightly.

He failed to realize that Cross was picking a fight with him out of desperation.

Cross punched him again and again and again.

Claude never resisted, merely enduring the blows.

Yet his body bore no wounds.

Only Cross’s fists were bloodied and broken.

It was a pitifully one-sided display.

“Draw your sword. At least then I could hurt you a little.”

Claude suggested, assuming Cross wanted to wound him out of hatred.

But he knew, deep down, that wasn’t it.

“My fists are the only thing that matter right now!”

Cross shouted as he swung once more, harder and more desperately than before.

It shouldn’t have hurt.

But for some reason, his cheek burned with pain.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re that kind of guy. You can do everything alone… and I hate that about you!”

Those words stung more than any punch.

Yet, they felt different.

Claude had thought Cross hated him out of envy.

But now he understood—that wasn’t it.

Claude was a hero.

Not just in strength, but in spirit—a superhuman.

In that sense, he was almost a species unto himself.

It was only natural that no human could ever defeat him.

Cross’s fists were torn to shreds, leaving trails of blood across Claude’s body.

Flesh split, bones broke—his hands were ruined beyond description.

It was only to be expected. To punch Claude’s body was no different than punching steel.

Please, stop.

I don’t care if I die.

I don’t care if I kill myself or if I’m tortured to death.

Just… don’t hurt yourself because of me.

Claude wanted to say it.

But no words came out.

His lips trembled, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t speak.

“I know! I know you didn’t choose this. You had the strength, so people forced you into it. You became someone who could do everything alone—I get that!”

“That’s… not true. I… I rely on everyone…”

Cross’s fist halted mid-air.

“Really?”

Claude tried to nod.

But he couldn’t.

He didn’t want to lie.

“That… I…”

“…I get it, Claude. I know it’s not your fault. But it doesn’t change anything.”

There was nothing Claude could say.

He could do everything.

He couldn’t use magic, but if needed, he could learn.

Healing, thievery, cooking—if it was necessary, he would master them.

That was what made him a hero.

A superhuman.

The vessel of all of God’s blessings upon humanity.

And he had cursed the gods for it countless times.

“But this isn’t about that. You… none of you understand anything!”

Cross grabbed Claude by the collar and glared into his eyes.

“Being able to do everything and doing everything alone are two completely different things! I hate the way you carry everything on your shoulders!”

“Cross… you…”

“I know! I know I’m too weak for you to rely on! But still… even so, I can’t just give up! If you keep fighting alone, if you keep carrying all of humanity alone… then who’s going to carry you!? Who’s going to protect your back!?”

His roar was not of anger, hatred, or envy.

It was a cry born purely from his love as a friend—from his humanity.

“Sophia, Medil, Mary! You too! Claude does everything alone and you just let him! You’re his comrades, aren’t you!? Why does he have to bear everything alone!?”

Whenever Claude couldn’t manage something, the others stepped in.

That was how things had always been.

The hero led, fought, and resolved every crisis.

The companions helped where they could.

That was natural to them.

They never considered friendship a part of the equation.

They never realized.

Why Cross desperately sought to be useful.

Why he imitated the hero even when he failed.

Why he cooked with such earnestness.

Why he was so furious now.

They had never tried to understand.

“I will never give up. I will become strong… no matter what anyone says… So that I can stand by your side, no matter what!”

With a cry from the depths of his soul, Cross struck Claude with his fist.

And that punch… truly hurt.

Claude cried before his companions.

He couldn’t even stand.

His chest burned with pain—but it was a comforting warmth.

In that moment, Claude ceased to be a superhuman.

His heroic heart shattered, leaving him as nothing but a man—one who could no longer live alone.

That was the only time in his life that the hero truly lost to another human being.

After that day, their relationship changed—if only slightly.

Though Cross never caught up to Claude’s strength in his lifetime, he never gave up.

He continued training properly, without harming himself, gaining knowledge and wisdom.

But the gap only widened.

Still… from that day onward, Claude began to rely on his comrades.

He entrusted them with burdens.

And when it was too hard, he confided in Cross.

Though he never fulfilled his dream of standing equally beside Claude, Cross lived a life he found fulfilling in its own way.