This World Needs a Hero

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Side Story 5 - As If Every Moment Is a Will

After the war.

In the middle of a village where restoration work was in full swing.

"Hey, kids, look over here."

It was a warm and clear tone that made anyone who heard it smile unconsciously.

The children, who had been playing, burst into laughter and turned towards the source of the voice.

"That’s it. Beautiful."

A shabby-looking artist took out a small canvas and began to work quickly.

Her hands were rough and calloused, but the lines that emerged from her fingertips were astonishingly smooth and delicate.

Initially, the children were a bit wary, but they were soon captivated by the paintings.

Every time a picture was completed, they would flock around.

"Wow! Is this me? Do I really look like this?"

"Wow... It's so pretty."

Whenever the children exclaimed, the artist would respond, "You’re even prettier in person."

"No way..."

"It's true. I'm just not skilled enough to capture all your beauty."

At such replies, the children would laugh even louder.

They each struck cute and charming poses, and the artist chuckled along with them.

Red hair peeked out from beneath her deeply pressed beret, swaying as she moved.

…Of course, there were some who viewed her with disdain.

"We're not nobles, why do we need portraits?"

"She's probably charging for these drawings, isn’t she?"

"She seems like a con artist."

The adults watched her gruffly, but when the children beamed with joy, holding their completed drawings, they quietly joined the queue.

The nameless artist greeted them with a faint smile.

Despite their rough skin, damaged by rebuilding homes and clearing wastelands, and the lingering traces of hardship and suffering from the long war, there was now an emotion in their eyes that hadn't been there a year ago.

…A firm hope.

A belief that the world would take a step forward.

That it would wake from the long winter, overcome the harsh cold, and begin to sprout.

Over the past year, Leciel had carefully drawn everything left behind by her master.

Victory.

All that came from "victory" and all that came from "war."

"Phew…"

It was now dusk.

Leciel stretched and looked at the people dispersing in small groups.

The smoke rising from cooking fires drifted with the sunset, leaving a pleasant aroma in the air.

The scene, bathed in warm light, reminded her of a seaside she once saw in a dreamlike vision.

"......"

Leciel pressed down on the aching feeling in her chest.

‘…No.’

She had to be happy.

She couldn’t allow herself to be unhappy amidst what her master had left behind.

‘He wouldn’t want that.’

That’s why she had picked up the brush.

She had to choose the way to be truly happy.

Swiik, sss.

Leciel began to paint again, capturing the shadows of people illuminated in a humble home and the ruins tinged with the glow of sunset.

She only stopped when she noticed a small presence behind her.

"Excuse me…"

"What is it?"

It was the first child who had asked for a picture.

“…Can I learn how to draw too?"

The traces of his meal were still evident on his lips, showing he had rushed over right after eating.

Leciel couldn’t help but smile.

She reached out and patted the child’s hair.

"I can’t teach you for long, though. I have to leave in two days."

A bright smile spread across the child's face.

"That’s okay!"

Worried she might change her mind, he quickly ran and sat beside her.

His eyes sparkled with childlike curiosity as he examined her art supplies.

"Hehe, I look forward to learning, teacher."

The child handed her a steaming potato, which he seemed to have stashed in his pocket.

…Teacher.

Leciel grinned and took a bite.

"Call me Professor."

.

.

.

Thud—

Ban entered the columbarium.

He was a little earlier than the time he had agreed upon with his friends.

Today was not a day when outsiders or tourists were allowed.

The soldier on duty frowned, prepared to turn away the uninvited guest, but upon recognizing him, the soldier snapped a sharp salute.

Ban nodded silently and walked past him.

Thud—

The cold air and a strange stillness enveloped him as he moved deeper inside.

Under the dim lights, Ban slowly surveyed the long rows of stone coffins, each marked with a metal plaque bearing a name and date.

The starting dates varied, but the end dates were mostly the same.

This was the resting place of heroes—those who had died fighting for humanity’s freedom.

Sadly, there weren’t many stone coffins with actual ashes in them.

Most of the bodies had been unrecoverable.

…Ban's steps finally came to a halt.

Lucas Wellington

(Imperial Year 280.04.11 ~ 300.12.08)

For everyone’s glory.

Ban placed one of the bouquets he had brought beneath Lucas’s stone coffin.

The wrapping paper on the bouquet read, “For our war hero, from Arpheus’s Flower Shop!” in elegant script.

After the war, Arpheus had ventured into various businesses, including food cultivation and pioneering, with the flower shop being one of them.

Flowers that bloomed regardless of the season, thanks to Zero's blessing of "growth," were extremely popular.

The flowers Ban had chosen were marigolds.

Their language of flowers signified sorrow of parting, an early farewell, and mourning.

Ban gazed at the unopened buds.

‘…I didn’t think you’d die like that.’

It was before the flood of the Demon King’s "melting" reached them… during the fierce battle against numerous high-ranking demons.

Lucas had fallen while defending Avalon from the invading demons.

…He had done it to protect the engineers, most of whom were of different races or commoners.

Noubelmag and Pia had also survived thanks to Lucas.

"......"

Ban closed his eyes.

“Barbaric and lowly beings.”

He still vividly remembered the Lucas of his youth, who had been arrogantly condescending.

The nobleman who had stood firm in front of the weak, even after being pierced all over his body, felt like a completely different person.

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Perhaps that’s why the old hatred and resentment he once harbored had entirely disappeared.

Ban recalled Lucas's last will.

He was one of the few fallen soldiers who could leave a will because he had died within the hull.

“I know it's shameless, but... could you let me rest next to the heroes?”

He made that request with a childlike expression that didn't quite fit in with the group.

"......"

Ban sat down, leaning against the wall.

Starting with Lucas's sarcophagus, the sarcophagi of the fallen were lined up next to each other.

The extreme survivors, who had started as thirty-one, were now eighteen in total.

Fifteen, if you exclude the three who left on the day the hero's identity was revealed on Rosenstark Hill.

The faces of his fallen friends were superimposed over the nameplates.

Deindart's sarcophagus.

Below it was a note scrawled with the words, "Rest in peace, brother. Thank you."

He had died while guarding the rear during the retreat of the Lotus Knights.

Aileen's sarcophagus.

It was inscribed with the words, "You were always last, so what was the rush this time?"

She had died clearing the path for the hero heading towards the Demon King's castle.

Beorn, Olivia, and Liam.

They had fallen to the Demon King's "Dissolution" while evacuating the wounded.

Even as the black wave engulfed them from behind, their eyes remained on the wounded ahead, not on their own fate.

There were many other sarcophagi.

... Too many.

After laying down all the bouquets, Ban sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

A murmur, like a sigh, escaped his lips.

“When I first enrolled in Rosenstark and volunteered for the extreme course...”

It was a story from when he was still a coward.

“I thought I'd be the first to die if we ever fought the demons, just as the professor said.”

He couldn't even swing his sword properly in front of monsters.

It must have been frustrating for his comrades to see such a pathetic display from someone they would have to rely on in the future.

But instead of harshly reprimanding him, his friends moved forward together.

They waited for him and cheered him on.

They were all truly remarkable people.

Surrounded by the traces they left behind, Ban traced his memories.

... And eventually.

Whenever this kind of longing reached its end, it always brought the face of one person to mind.

‘Professor.’

It was a memory he could never forget.

The demonic realm at dawn.

Bathed in that dim light, his master shattered into pieces.

That final question, laden with relief and regret.

“Does this world still need a hero?”

Thanks to him, a hero was no longer needed.

But he was still needed.

As much love as he had poured into the world, the world needed to return that love.

He shouldn't have disappeared with a face that said he had already received his reward.

"What about you? Do you want to stay in the extreme course?”

“Think carefully about what you want to achieve by coming to Rosenstark.”

“As a swordsman before a professor, I believe in your potential.”

“... Ban, mountains with deep valleys are usually tall.”

Ban slowly stood up.

‘I should visit soon.’

Unfortunately, his master's sarcophagus wasn't here.

The Emperor had prepared a place for the hero in the highest tower of the imperial palace.

So that he could endlessly overlook the world he had protected.

... He planned to visit there first after the victory celebration was over.

Swoosh—

Ban turned around.

His friends, who had arrived before him and were waiting, waved at him with big smiles.

It had been a while.

This was because Ban had remained in the military even after the war had ended.

He had spent the past year focused on purging and developing the eastern regions, and naturally, he hadn't been able to see his friends during that time.

But, as expected, time didn't matter.

“Wow... This guy. He didn't retire, and look how old he's gotten. I almost mistook you for old man Felson.”

“... Have you looked at your own face, Gerald?”

“Why are you picking on our Gerald?”

“Oh my God, Karen....”

The moment he faced the familiar faces with whom he had shared daily hardships and joys, he realized that nothing important had changed.

Gerald, laughing heartily, approached Evergreen—

“Wow, by the way, our adorable niece is coming into the world soon?”

Luke intervened.

“Move your face away. It’s not good for prenatal education.”

“You bastard!”

Cuculli intercepted Karen's question about the baby's name.

“The name will be Kuriri! Or... Krillin!”

“Don't talk nonsense!”

“There's no word the dad can't say in front of his kid!”

Amidst the commotion, Nyhill carefully approached Evergreen and gently touched her swollen belly.

As she did so, she handed her a handmade doll.

Finally, when Leciel, wearing a beret smeared with paint, appeared, the kids couldn't help but laugh, forgetting the location altogether.

Ban was the same.

The ragged artist's look was far from appropriate as the appearance of a first love.

Leciel, too, shrugged as if she didn’t understand, then gave her characteristic giggle.

... They were still there.

Somehow changed yet unchanged.

Clinging to what was important as time flowed swiftly by.

“Well, then.”

After laughing for a while, Ban stretched lazily.

A boyish smile spread across the young man's face.

“Shall we get going now?”

* * *

- Unreleased Will

To my students.

By now, you too must be finishing your wills.

I swear to do my best to ensure those wills never see the light of day.

I hope these papers will return to your hands as small traces you can laugh and reminisce over someday.

(...Omitted...)

I've long had the thought that this battle might be my last.

But now, more than fear, I feel a sense of certainty.

It's probably thanks to you.

Thank you.

(...Omitted...)

Sadly, even after all this journey, the world will sometimes be harsh and cruel to you.

That's just the way it is.

But I'm certain of one thing.

You will overcome all of it, and in the process, become stronger and more resilient.

So, my beloved students, my stars.

Love and fight with all your might.

Even when you're exhausted and feel like crying, never stop.

Live every moment of your life with passion.

And make your lives shine brightly.

... I will pray.

That infinite luck and blessings are with you on your path ahead.

And that one day, our paths may cross again.

Never forget that I always believe in and love you.

- Your Professor.

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