The Hero and the Hero

At this moment, Stark remembered the story his master had told him before.

Once upon a time, there was a timid dwarf who, when faced with a monster attacking his homeland, did not stand with his people but instead chose to flee the village alone.

"And then what happened?"

As a child, I lay by the campfire and couldn't help but ask.

Later, he began to wander around.

The master craftsman calmly recounted the story while wiping the battle axe.

Wandering.

That is a way of life that is far too isolated for any living being.

Without a hometown, without relatives, and without a place that can truly be called home, I am pushed forward by the complex and intertwined gazes around me, afraid to stop and with nowhere to rest.

Its journey of weeping may have had brief pauses, but it has no end.

Dwarves have long lifespans.

This means that the master has far more time than humans to recall that day, and perhaps every time he closes his eyes, those voices he left behind will ring out again.

The shouts of my people, the roars of monsters, the sounds of weapons breaking, and the sounds of houses collapsing in flames... it was just like myself.

I remember everything, except for how long I ran.

Maybe a few days, maybe a few years.

When I finally stopped, my hometown was already too far away to be seen anymore.

"But then, one day..."

The master suddenly changed the subject.

He encountered a human who claimed to be a hero.

"Brave?"

"Hmm, a rather narcissistic guy who likes to meddle in other people's business."

The hero invites the dwarf to join his party to fight the Demon King.

The dwarf refused.

A person who doesn't even dare to protect their own homeland has no right to stand beside a hero, let alone have the courage to face the Demon King.

"Then the hero said, 'Since you escaped from your hometown, it means you are still alive. As long as you are alive, you will still have the opportunity to choose next time.'"

Having run away once doesn't mean you can only run away forever; failing to protect your hometown doesn't mean you can't protect the people you meet next.

"So the dwarf went with the hero?"

"Um."

"Was he no longer afraid afterward?"

"No."

The master shook his head.

The dwarf still feared monsters and death. Before each battle, he would observe the surrounding terrain and look for a way to retreat. Even when he encountered an enemy far stronger than himself, his hand holding his weapon would still tremble.

Even when they finally stood before the Demon King, that fear did not disappear.

"So how did he defeat the Demon King?"

Young Stark couldn't understand; in his imagination, a true warrior should be fearless.

"Because the hero has already moved forward..."

The fear hadn't disappeared; it was just that the reliable figure walking ahead made him temporarily forget about running away.

Although this forgetting will last a lifetime.

Even though there were many instances of fleeing in subsequent battles, he never abandoned his comrades like he had done that time.

This is the story of a cowardly dwarf, and also the story of the master.

The hero Himmel was probably his master's hero.

When his master was wandering aimlessly, chased by the fears and regrets of the past with nowhere to stop, it was Himmel found him, reached out to him, and led him onto a different path.

But what about our own heroes?

Stark looked at the burning village before him.

My palms were sweating, my knees were trembling, and I still clearly remember the fear of that day; even trying to move my body was completely beyond my control.

He instinctively looked around, trying to find someone in the sea of fire to save them.

But there was nothing there.

No hero wielding a holy sword descended from the sky, nor did any powerful True Magic wipe out the monsters.

Only the father led the clansmen to guard the center of the village.

Only his brother stood before him, gripping his blood-stained sword.

It turns out that no heroes ever appeared on the day the Warrior's Village was destroyed.

No.

That doesn't seem right either.

Stark looked at his brother again.

The not-so-tall figure stood between the flames and the monsters, and despite being covered in wounds himself, he still urged his younger brother to run away quickly.

Oh, so my hero had already appeared all along.

However, he failed to defeat the Demons before him, nor could he save the entire village; he only managed to do his best to secure a way for his younger brother to escape.

So-called heroes don't seem to be as invincible as depicted in stories; they can also fail, get injured, and even die...

The only difference is that when everyone was hoping someone would step forward, they chose to be the ones who did.

On the day his hometown was destroyed, it was his brother who stayed behind him. When he was wandering alone and didn't know where to go, it was his master who took him in and Church him how to have the power to protect others.

In the end, I was just chasing after the shadow of a hero.

But neither his brother nor his master could stand in front of him forever.

Even heroes depart.

Stark suddenly remembered the village at the foot of the mountain.

He recalled the relieved smiles on the villagers' faces when they saw him, the children who imitated him by wielding battle axes with tree branches, and the proud look on the old man's face when he spoke of "Lord Stark".

He had always thought those people were far too easily fooled.

Despite being a coward who wouldn't even dare to move when facing the Red Mirror Dragon, they presumptuously regarded him as a hero and believed that as long as he remained here, the village would never be in danger.

But now that I think about it, haven't I been the same way?

He once believed that as long as his brother was still standing there, there was nothing to be afraid of.

He once believed that everything would be alright as long as his master intervened.

The villagers probably felt the same way when they looked at him.

Unbeknownst to me, I had become just another figure in other people's eyes.

What a joke! This is utterly unreasonable. He was clearly never ready to become a hero.

When the hero Himmel walked forward, his master must have thought the same thing.

Stark looked down at his still trembling hands.

Even after understanding all this, his fear did not disappear. He was still afraid of the Red Mirror Dragon, still did not want to get hurt, and even more so, did not want to die.

But...

Fear and moving forward are not contradictory.

Stark bent down and picked up a broken longsword from the ashes-covered ground. Even just holding it made his arms tremble.

He finally understood the second half of what his master hadn't said back then.

The brave one has already moved forward.

So this time, it's his turn.

"Stark?"

The older brother stared in astonishment at his younger brother's return.

What are you doing back here?

"I don't know either."

Stark's voice trembled violently.

"I'm terrified right now, and I don't feel like I can be of any help at all."

He walked to his brother's side and raised the long sword in his hand with all his might.

"But let me abandon my hero and run away one more time..."

"I can no longer do that."