Prologue

Our country is a matrilineal monarchy. It is said that the royal family comes from religious roots; the priestesses who serve our deity preserve their bloodline by taking the most influential men of their time as husbands. For the most part, these men come from highborn families such as domestic nobility or foreign royalty.

There is just one exception: the Hero.

The Hero refers to the individual who defeats the Demon Lord, the monstrous being who appears periodically throughout history to threaten the human realm. In our country, the Hero is guaranteed to become monarch as their reward for the deed. By welcoming the Hero into the royal family, the kingdom preserves its legitimacy and flaunts its status as the nation that saved the world. So it has been for eons.

Fifteen years ago, another Demon Lord emerged—the ruler of the mighty race known as the demons, who scorned the god of humans and sought to eradicate His followers. After much conflict, half the world fell under the Demon Lord’s thumb, and our country faced a similar bitter fate.

It was then that the Hero appeared.

Nobody knows beforehand who will become Heroes, but many were guided by someone known as the Prophet. This enigmatic individual appears seemingly out of nowhere, recites their prophecy, and disappears just as mysteriously.

The Prophet predicted four years prior that the Hero would come from a small village within the kingdom’s borders. This prophesied young man entered Falm Academy—an institute for training prospective Heroes, where he was top of his class. He formed a party with his fellow Hero candidates—Leon the Sword Saint, Maria the Holy Maiden, and Solon the Sage—and on His Majesty’s invitation, he came to the royal palace.

My name is Alexia, princess of our nation. I was the Hero’s promised reward.

My father was somewhat disappointed by the Hero, from what I could tell. His complaints included “the fellow is lowborn,” “his looks are unremarkable,” and “I wish Leon was the Hero instead.”

My mother, the queen, was not present. She was at the temple, having taken over the role of priestess after my grandmother’s passing. In our country, the queen chooses the king as her partner, and after raising their children to adulthood, she serves as a priestess for the rest of her life.

Leon the Sword Saint was the eldest son of an influential count. A gifted and reputable individual, he and I would surely have been wed had the Demon Lord not appeared. He seemed to conduct himself under that assumption when we met on previous occasions, but after the battle at the Great Forest of Lozorof, he said, “I am not the Hero,” and voluntarily withdrew his pursuit of my hand. Many regarded this as a shame, my father included.

Personally, it was of no concern to me. I understood that Leon was an upstanding individual, but given that I ultimately had no say over who I married, the Hero’s identity mattered little to me. I had always been praised and encouraged from a tender age to study books, swordsmanship, horse riding, and other worthy skills, but I was never allowed to decide my own future.

To be a princess of this nation is a curse—for, you see, our family has never produced a prince. If only a single boy was born, I could live a freer life.

Heedless of my thoughts at that moment, the Hero—Ares—strode into the throne room. My father praised him for his deeds at the Great Forest of Lozorof, presented his reward, and formally recognized him as the Hero.

This was the birth of Ares the Hero. The king introduced me as Ares’s prize.

“This is my daughter, Alexia. When you defeat the Demon Lord, she will take you as her husband, and you will become this nation’s next king.”

Hushed murmurs rippled across the room. Tradition though it was, some of the nobility disliked the idea of a lowborn king. Yet how else could one reward such a risky endeavor? Nobody would sneak into the Demon Lord’s territory otherwise. Hero is a pretty-sounding way of referring to an assassin. And the Hero has to be amply motivated to improve his chance of success.

It would have been remiss of me to let the world fall to ruin. I had to encourage this Hero to the best of my ability, and I knew how I must act in order to achieve that end.

I walked over to the Hero as he knelt, and I said:

“O Hero, please defeat the Demon Lord and save this world. I will be awaiting your return.”

I was just a young girl of twelve years; still, I was pretty, and I thought I knew how to appease others. I truly did want to save the world, but I was lying about awaiting his return.

The Hero was a perfectly average-looking young man. He had brown eyes that matched the color of his slightly curly hair. His body did appear to be fairly toned, though it was unremarkable in terms of height and build.

An expression of unease came over his face, and he said in a low voice that only I could hear:

“Your Highness, I make this promise to you: I swear that I will defeat the Demon Lord.”

He smiled gently.

“But I will not return. So please marry someone you love.”

Four years after uttering those words, the Hero defeated the Demon Lord. And he never did return.

Four more years passed after that. With peace finally restored, our kingdom began compiling literature to extol the late Hero and praise his great deeds.

On the Streets

“You want to know what I think of the Hero? Well, I’m grateful to him for defeating the Demon Lord. It’s thanks to him that we’re alive today.”

“He could do it all—swordplay, attack magic, and healing magic. A great man indeed. It’s a shame he passed away.”

“His absence is certainly felt. I heard he was brilliant even at school. I’m sure we’ll need people like him in the future.”

“I suppose it was a wound or curse from the Demon Lord that killed him, yes? He was up against the most formidable foe you can imagine. They must have taken each other out.”

“Well, he had to be great to take down the Demon Lord. But y’know, they say he came from some backwoods town. Kind of freaky to imagine him becoming king if he returned. Not that I know anything about the nation or politics or whatever.”

“How’d he die on the way back? You wouldn’t think a monster would stand a chance against the guy who killed the Demon Lord. It’s a bit of a mystery.”

“I always thought that Sword Saint fella was fishy. I mean, he’s some big shot count. Maybe he offed the Hero so that he’d be next in line for the throne. Don’t they say that if it wasn’t for the Hero, the princess would’ve married the Sword Saint? Whoops, you oughtta keep that between us. You never know what they’ll do to you for saying that.”

“I heard the Sage and the Holy Maiden were childhood friends. Didn’t the Sage have a crush on the Holy Maiden, but she was into the Hero? Maybe the Sage snapped and killed the Hero over that?”

“Yeah, I reckon they were at odds over the Holy Maiden. She’s an incredible beauty, after all. What if the Sage and the Sword Saint got jealous over how she liked the Hero, so they teamed up and made him kaput? When you think of it that way, I can’t help but feel sorry for the Holy Maiden. She’s still single to this day.”

“It’s because of his commoner background, don’t you think? I doubt the nobility thought too kindly of him. If he returned home and became the king, they’d have to take orders from a commoner, and I bet they didn’t like the sound of that. I think they got someone to kill him.”

Leon’s Story

“He was my friend.”

When asked about his relationship with Ares the Hero, Leon’s response was simple.

His taut, muscled body is evident through his clothes. Despite his clean-cut features—trim blond hair and a short, neat beard—there is an intensity in his gaze that makes it clear that he is no ordinary person.

Friend. His relationship with Ares could not have been so simple. They had known each other since their student days, and as party members, they had braved death together on many an occasion.

Leon Müller, also known as the Sword Saint, had once been first in line among the Hero candidates.

“I don’t mean it in a special way. I just didn’t have anyone I could call a friend until I met him. You see, I was born into the upper class. When you’re a member of the nobility, relationships are all about who’s above and below you. You categorize the people you meet into whether you show deference to them or whether they show deference to you. Pretty scummy, isn’t it? That’s upper-class society for you,” he said with a devilish smile.

The present Leon, at least, displays no hint of bourgeois affectation. In fact, he has a reputation for being a fair and upright individual who treats everyone the same regardless of social standing. I could not feel the difference in our stations through the casual tone in which he conversed with me.

Now, can you tell me what things were like when you met Ares?

“I was a nobleman. Well, I still am now, but I lived and breathed it back then. Not to mention that I was a Hero candidate. I was pretty conceited about my sword skills—I was convinced that nobody else but me could be the Hero. Everyone else saw me in the same light. That’s why…”

There was a shadow in Leon’s eyes.

“…I hated him. Only the nobility can attend Falm Academy, but here was this commoner barging in. Plus, he looked like such a plain and ordinary guy. I hated the sight of him.”