A few days earlier.
While he was digging up the dried-out lakebed in search of the Hero’s Sword, Jake was caught red-handed by the village chief.
The chief scolded Jake harshly.
He did not actually yell at him. The other party was a noble and the Hero, no less.
Instead, he cursed him with every ounce of strength in his eyes.
Under that scorching stare, Jake tried to excuse himself.
“I’m sorry for tearing up the lake. I’ll put it back the way it was right away.”
“Uh… and how do you intend to put back water that’s vanished, sir?”
“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I’m not the one who removed the water. I merely dug the ground a little.”
“Ehh? Then just where has all the lake water gone?”
“I’m afraid I’m not yet worthy to answer that question. For a Hero, closest to the gods, to fail to grasp Their will, such dereliction deserves rebuke.”
“Ehh?”
The chief understood barely a quarter of what Jake was saying.
If the Hero hadn’t done it, who on earth had blown away the lake?
The lake was a wreck.
It hadn’t been filled in with earth, nor had the water simply evaporated overnight.
The ground was scooped out as if something enormous had exploded right there.
Even without knowing what had happened, it was clear no ordinary human could do such a thing.
Who but a Hero could cause a calamity like this without any natural disaster… and now he was blaming the gods!
“Ah… yes… right,” the chief managed, though it was completely absurd.
“I’ll fill in the part I dug soon, so please wait a bit,” Jake said.
The “little hole” the Hero spoke of amounted to a few scratches on the lakebed where even the faintest trace of water had already vanished.
If he had only said none of it was his doing, the chief might at least have pretended to believe him.
But to blow away an entire lake and then claim he had just scraped the bottom, that excuse made the chief want to weep.
They had lost the village’s beautiful lake and couldn’t even protest.
All because their opponent was the Hero.
“Ha… ha-ha….”
Feeling guilty at the chief’s tearful face, Jake tidied up half-heartedly and left the lake.
“This is terrible. I’ve lost the trail of the Hero’s Sword.”
“You seem confused. We never knew where it was in the first place,” Elijah snapped.
Ignoring Elijah’s jab, Jake brooded.
“The sword is definitely somewhere in this village. That much is certain.”
The sword wasn’t in the lake, but the gods wouldn’t dry up the water for no reason.
It had to be a sign that the blade was hidden here in Root.
Jake kept searching without rest.
Days passed with no results.
Elijah, frustrated by the fruitless hunt, began to lose patience.
“What kind of guy was the previous Hero, anyway, to make the next party suffer like this?
He could’ve had anything he wanted so why did he disappear?”
“There’s a story he died in his final battle with the Demon King.”
“Eh, seriously?”
“There’s no record, so the truth is unknown.”
“Is anything recorded?”
“It’s written that the last Demon King was stronger than any before, so it took the Hero a very long time to defeat him.”
“Maybe that’s just because he was a commoner. Unlike the West family, who train from birth, he wasn’t prepared, so it took him years to grow strong.”
“Perhaps.”
Jake answered, but in fact he knew.
The previous Hero had been stronger than any other hero before him.
According to records hidden from the world, that Hero possessed power equal to the greatest Demon King ever known and was so diligent he pursued the Demon King relentlessly without rest.
Because the Demon King was busy fighting the Hero, he never attacked the Empire.
Even though the Demon King lived longer, the capital and nearby cities remained perfectly peaceful as if the Demon King did not exist.
Against that mighty foe, the Hero protected the world flawlessly.
The Duke of West concealed these records for a simple reason: the Hero had not been one of their own.
The most revered Hero had been a nameless commoner, not the first Hero who founded House West.
So they hid the truth and diminished his deeds until only the West name remained in people’s memories.
Five hundred years have passed with the truth buried.
All those heroes became ghosts of the past—Demon King and Hero alike.
Therefore, the Hero’s Sword must be recovered.
The vanished sword was the final shard that could bury the truth forever.
Jake had a duty to reclaim it with his own hands as the divinely chosen Hero of this era.
And then I’ll prove I’m stronger than the previous Hero.
Stronger, faster and more splendid when I strike down the Demon King and write a new, distortion-free history.
“If the Hero died, wouldn’t his comrades have retrieved the sword and returned to the capital? I thought every party member came back except one.”
“Exactly. The chance he died in that battle is low.”
“Then did he beat the Demon King and ran away?”
“Possibly.”
“Fine. Say he fled after winning. Why would the Hero’s Sword be in a backwater like this?”
“Only a theory, but…”
Jake glanced around and lowered his voice.
“The previous Hero might have hidden here and started a family.”
“You’re saying his descendants are here?”
Jake gave a slight nod.
“It isn’t certain. Someone else might have found the sword by chance, or perhaps it’s buried somewhere with the Hero’s corpse.”
“So we don’t know the truth.”
“And that truth is exactly what we must uncover.”
Elijah scratched his cheek and spoke off-handedly.
“If the Hero’s descendant really is here, I think I know who it is.”
Jake nodded again.
“Same for me.”
One person came to mind immediately: the sack-swinging farmer whose aura overwhelmed everyone in the village, even Hero Jake himself.
He had to be a Hero’s descendant.
❖ ❖ ❖
The Hero is in this village.
He might even be here for him.
Hands trembling, Reinhild clenched his fists and strained to hear Xion and Rebecca’s conversation.
“Our house holds nothing the Hero would find interesting,” Xion said.
“I know. But he said he’d visit every house in the village. It’ll be unannounced, so keep it secret from everyone else—but I’m telling you specially.”
“Is something going on?”
“I don’t know much either. I just thought you’d want to tidy up before he arrives.”
“Miss Rebecca…”
Xion followed her outside as she turned to leave.
Thud.
Reinhild stared blankly at the distant figure of Xion and the door closing behind him.
“Xion…”
That day at the lake, when the madman had grabbed his wrist, Reinhild learned painfully:
I’m weak.
After sleeping for five hundred years, he had become far too feeble more than humans had grown strong.
I used to be strong… didn’t I?
But was he really? Maybe the humans back then were simply weak. He couldn’t remember.
The Hero of today would be different. He would be powerful enough to dispatch someone like Reinhild in an instant, without leaving him to awaken five centuries later.
I’d never see Xion again.
Humans adore Heroes. Being human, Xion would love him too.
He’d run out the door at once upon hearing the Hero was coming. That alone showed how eagerly he welcomed him.
He might be fetching the Hero right now… cheerful, unaware. The Hero would see Reinhild’s true nature at a glance.
Then it would be over. Everything would be over.
I don’t want to die.
It had been only a few hours since he resolved to regain his strength and live peacefully in Root.
That peace shattered so quickly, yet his resolve had not.
He wanted to remain in Root.
He wanted to stay by Xion’s side.
Reinhild clenched both fists.
He was not ready to give up yet.
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