Chapter 5

Fragment 2 For as long as I could remember, my shoulders bore the weight of expectations. That is what it means to be the heir of a count’s title. House Müller is one of the kingdom’s long-standing pillars of martial prowess, and thus, my strength is taken as a given. One of my earliest memories was of me practicing my swings with a tiny blunt sword. I wasn’t opposed to it—I enjoyed it, in fact. I could feel myself improving the more I did it. My uncle, who instructed me in the blade, showered me with praise, and so did my mother and father. The sword became the measure of my self-worth. But although my house is renowned for its military successes, being good with the sword is far from the only thing that mattered. My uncle was the best swordsman in the family, but he was unable to inherit the house because he was the second-born son. At the end of the day, nobles are creatures of lineage. The times caught up to them, though, when the Demon Lord appeared. Through their overwhelming power and strength of numbers, the monsters under the Demon Lord’s command began conquering the human nations. I was six at the time. There was a huge clash with the Demon Lord’s army in the south, and our country ended up deploying its army, too. But despite His Majesty’s decree, my father refused to take to the field himself, and instead, my uncle led the charge. This was to prevent potential danger to the current head of the house—so the reasoning went. You couldn’t fault my uncle’s bravery. He came to the Kingdom of Malika’s aid and fought off the Demon Lord’s army. Sadly, though, he was too late to prevent Malika’s fall. Maybe the country could have been saved if my father had acted promptly and gone to the battlefield. It was truly a great pity. On the other hand, I came to respect my uncle, who differed from his fellow nobles by fighting on the front lines himself. Since he had no son of his own, he doted on me as if I were his biological child. He had one daughter, who was a year younger than me, and we learned swordplay together as if we were siblings. She really took after my uncle with her muscles; if she’d been a boy, she might have surpassed me as a swordsman. I had our rivalry to thank for sharpening my skills. As time passed, a heavy gloom came over the country. Although we’d repelled one attack, the Demon Lord’s influence was steadily growing. People thought it was only a matter of time before his sinister hand reached our nation. That was precisely why my strength was needed. I’ll save my country with the power of my sword, I thought as I became absorbed in my studies. One day, my uncle told me that I had surpassed him. I was still in my teens when people started calling me the Sword Saint. But before I knew it, I’d drifted away from the people around me. Nobody was serious about saving the kingdom. Everyone was hoping to stick it out without actually fighting. The higher a person’s social status, the more inclined they were to think that way. I couldn’t stand this idiocy. The nobility were supposed to lead the fray and fight for the kingdom and its people. My idea was to become the Hero, save the world, ascend to the throne, and reform the system of nobility. I didn’t doubt for a second that I would become the Hero. I was convinced, in fact, that I was the only one who could do it. But at the same time, a part of me always hoped that there was someone else out there with my ideals—someone who would put their life on the line for the sake of the people. I joined Falm Academy when I turned fifteen. An institute for training Heroes, it permitted entry only to elite nobles. A faint anticipation bubbled in me at the thought that I would meet fellow Hero aspirants here. Instead, I found Ares—a commoner who refused to know his place. The commoners were supposed to be protected by the nobility. Otherwise, the nobility would lose their reason for being. Although the Hero could technically be someone of any station, we nobles would be nothing but leeches to the country if the Hero did not come from our ranks. “You’re not qualified to be the Hero.” Those words were out of my mouth before I knew it. Qualifications? Who needed them? Anyone could become the Hero. But I just couldn’t stand the thought of the nobility becoming shams of themselves. “Even so, I have to become the Hero,” Ares replied, looking me straight in the eyes. Resolve brimmed in his gaze. He was so unlike the other noble boys who joined the academy along with us, laughing without a care in the world. My hand flew to my sword. Everyone around me instantly stopped me, as if they were united by the same breath. Why did they stop me? I wondered why they felt no sense of urgency. If a commoner saved the upper classes, it would invalidate their purpose entirely. Didn’t they know that?