* * *
Despite his timid demeanor, Saskia was strangely extreme when it came to magic.
As the tower master’s apprentice, his expertise was undeniable, but his methods bordered on insane.
Case in point: trying to submerge the Holy Sword in a substance that dissolved everything.
His reasoning?
If the sword didn’t melt, what remained would reveal its true essence.
But you can’t just dunk a divine artifact into some dangerous liquid!
I couldn’t allow him to touch the Holy Sword.
“Are these really the people meant to save the world?” Katya scoffed, shaking her head.
Frankly, I agreed—at least a little.
Except for the hero.
He hadn’t said anything strange since he was too busy eating quietly.
“So, do you have any ideas?” I asked.
“Why should I have to think of something?”
“Because the smart people in the party have already shared their thoughts?”
I glanced at the priest and the mage.
“Ugh, whatever.” Katya grumbled.
“Every time the damn thing lights up, we’re on the verge of death. So why not just put ourselves in the same situation again?”
It was an offhand comment—Katya wasn’t one for strategy.
But—
“That’s not a bad idea,” the hero said, speaking for the first time since the discussion began.
“Wait, seriously?” I asked.
That would mean deliberately placing ourselves in mortal danger.
“Yes.”
What kind of ridiculous plan was this?
Absolutely not!
Easier said than done.
What Katya said—‘when you feel like you’re about to drop dead from exhaustion’—wasn’t just a turn of phrase.
It meant the exact moment when, after an intense battle, every party member except the hero had collapsed, unable to fight.
It meant the hero was left alone, desperately continuing the fight.
That time, I really thought we were all going to die, but we barely survived thanks to the holy sword, which happened to shine at the right moment.
It was truly dangerous.
Just thinking about it makes me shudder.
And to meet those conditions, the hero has to fight alone?
No matter how important it is to awaken the holy sword, risking the hero’s life isn’t an option.
It’s the same reason we can’t hand over the holy sword for some reckless experiment.
There’s only one holy sword, and I can’t allow it to be put in a situation where it might be damaged.
That’s why I won’t hand it over to Saskia.
And there’s only one hero as well.
I can’t agree to a challenge where we don’t know what might happen to him.
It’s as simple as that.
‘Why isn’t anyone stopping her?’
Just like we all rejected the last two proposals without hesitation, shouldn’t we all be speaking up to oppose this one, too?
The overwhelming silence made my heart drop.
“Everyone agrees?”
I deliberately raised my voice to break the silence.
I wanted to believe they were just too shocked by the absurdity of the idea to respond.
“But… in the end, it’s the hero’s decision, isn’t it?”
Saskia mumbled hesitantly.
“Our opinions don’t really matter anyway…”
That was true.
The hero wasn’t one to speak much or take the lead often, but once he made a decision, he never went back on it.
And no one dared to oppose him outright.
Even I couldn’t immediately say ‘rejected’ this time.
But still!
No matter what!
I’m just some nobody who can’t even fight alongside the hero.
If I oppose this, it’s not like I can offer an alternative, so I’ll just end up looking like some arrogant fool who objects without a plan.
But the others?
They stand shoulder to shoulder with the hero in battle!
They’re his equals—so why won’t they stop him?!
I bit my lip.
But no matter what, I couldn’t let the hero go through with this.
I turned to Dieter, the kindest among us.
He had his usual vacant expression.
I had a bad feeling.
“It’s dangerous, yes, but the gods favor humanity. They wouldn’t just let Zerbin die. That’s why they granted us this oracle.”
This won’t do!
This idiot’s brain is filled with flowers!
Does he think the gods are some kind of loving parents?
If they truly cared, they would’ve told us how to awaken the holy sword ages ago!
Or better yet, stopped the demons from invading in the first place!
No, wait.
Come to think of it, Dieter might be the kindest, but the most reasonable one here is Katya.
I turned to her, my last hope.
Katya was twisting hr long red hair into a coil, but when our eyes met, I could see her thoughts clear as day.
‘What? So what?’
That look said it all.
Suddenly, I wanted to say what Katya had earlier.
Are these guys really the party that’s supposed to save the world?
Katya must’ve read my expression because she smirked.
“If he wants to do it, why should I stop him? I just gave my opinion. He’s the one who decided to go through with it.”
“It’s obviously too dangerous!”
“If he says he can take responsibility for it, that’s his call. Trying to stop him would be an insult to a hero’s honor.”
What the hell, is a hero’s honor really more important than his life?!
I wanted to argue, but Katya would definitely say yes.
He was the type who believed that a hero had to die in battle to reach heaven.
Fine… technically, she wasn’t wrong.
If the hero decided this was worth trying, my objections might come across as underestimating him.
Who am I to judge his skill when I’m nothing—neither strong nor smart, only good at sneaking around and running my mouth?
Telling him it’s too dangerous might seem like I’m doubting him.
He might even take offense.
That’s why I couldn’t openly oppose him—I had to ask the others first.
But I don’t like this.
I really don’t like it.
The hero is the only one who can save the world.
Even if the rest of us survive, he’s the only one who can wield the holy sword.
If he gets seriously injured—if he loses an arm or a leg—if, god forbid, he dies…
Then what happens to us?
What happens to the ones left behind?
Why does the burden of saving the world fall on just one man?
Why does he have to fight alone?
We gathered a whole party for this, yet he’s still struggling forward, isolated and in pain.
“…Can’t we reconsider?”
I couldn’t help but speak up.
But even as I forced the words out, my voice lacked conviction.
There was no firmness, no strong argument.
Because I can’t stop him.
I can’t stand in the way of the hero who saved me—who will continue to save me.
“I’m just fulfilling my duty.”
That was his only response.
Calm.
Unshaken.
His voice was devoid of emotion, yet those words felt unbearably cold to me.
And that made me sad.
Why does he have to bear this duty alone?
Why can’t anyone help him?
Why am I still so powerless…?
Why, why, why—
* * *
