Short Story 1: Helmios’s Past

The Hero, Helmios, was currently on the battlefield, deep within enemy lines much further north than the northernmost Alliance fortresses.

“To think that I, a Demonic Deity, would fall to a mere human...”

Helmios’s orichalcum sword plunged deep into his opponent’s chest. He had just successfully taken out one of the Demon Lord Army’s generals who had been commanding a massive force of monsters. The huge demon fell over backward, his body creating a dull boom as it hit the ground—he was dead.

One of Helmios’s companions, a redheaded female Sword Lord armed with a greatsword, cheered. “We actually did it... We killed the general! Our strategy worked!”

“Looks like it,” Helmios replied, his shoulders heaving violently with each word. He turned to take in his entire party. “Anissa, everyone, thank you.”

With the Hero as their leader and at least a Sword Lord and a Saintess on their roster, this party of ten was undoubtedly the most powerful that humanity could muster. Together, they had fought the Demon Lord Army more than a few times now, and each time they had pulled through with power, brawn, and strategy, just as they did today.

“Liktina, sorry, but can you heal us up now, please?” Anissa asked her former Academy classmate, looking like someone who had just finished a big job.

The Saintess nodded. “Sure, let me cast it now.”

The fierce battle with the Demonic Deity had left everyone with wounds from head to toe, but Liktina’s wide-area Healing Magic mended them back up in no time at all.

“I’m glad we pulled it off somehow.” Helmios sighed with relief that his party had successfully killed one of the generals of the Demon Lord Army. However, his joy did not last long. A brooding look soon returned to his face.

“C’mon, Helmios! Don’t worry—I’m sure the front lines are holding up just fine.” Anissa slapped him on the back several times in encouragement.

“I suppose so, Anissa. The fortresses must be managing. Let’s hurry back.”

The details of their mission today had been decided during a prior Five Continent Alliance strategy meeting. Fighting on the front lines usually consisted of amassing troops at the border fortresses to beat back the tides of the Demon Lord Army horde; this time, however, the Alliance had agreed on a strategy involving a small group of elites who would infiltrate deep into hostile land in order to assassinate the enemy general.

The commanders of the Army were often either demons or Demonic Deities, whose power was equal to Ranks A and S respectively when compared to the monster troops they led. Demonic Deities were so overwhelmingly strong that even Helmios struggled when fighting them.

To give him an edge, Elmea, the God of Creation, had given Helmios a special Extra Skill. Going by the name God Strike, the attack dealt holy elemental damage, which was extremely effective against demons and even Demonic Deities as powerful as Rank S monsters. As long as it landed, a blow with God Strike guaranteed death—that was just how powerful of a trump card this was. It was because of this skill that Helmios was called the “hope of humanity.”

The reason why Helmios now looked so worried despite having just succeeded in their mission was because he could not stop thinking about the fortresses: they now had to fend for themselves without him or anyone in his party’s presence. They were in the thick of battle at this very moment, and were likely having a tough time without the support from “the most powerful that humanity could muster.”

And so Helmios’s party rushed back to the front lines as fast as they could.

Several days later, they arrived to find one of the fortresses already fallen. When the Demon Lord Army conquered a fortress, they slaughtered everyone inside, never bothering to take hostages. Not a single being was left moving within the compound aside from the monsters making a mess as they gorged themselves on human remains.

After they had finished wiping out all the monsters in the fortress, Helmios asked his party in a monotone voice, “Just...how much longer do we have to keep doing this?”

“Until the Demon Lord is killed, duh,” Anissa replied.

Lying before Helmios was a large number of human corpses, desperation and terror still etched on their faces—if they still had faces, that is. He felt like their eyes were accusing him, begrudging him for not being here, not being enough. Most soldiers sent to the battlefield had yet to reach twenty—they were but teenagers: so young, so full of promise. Helmios shuddered to consider exactly how many such lives had been shed like rainwater here on the front lines over the years.

No matter how many fortresses he protected, it never seemed to affect the Demon Lord Army’s advances. However, when he went off to strike down an enemy general, a fortress still fell, leading to the deaths of thousands. And no matter how many fortresses fell, no matter how many soldiers died, no matter how much blood Helmios and his companions spilled, the leaders of the Five Continent Alliance would still trumpet to the world that their strategy was a success. Their reports to their home nations would contain only one line: the Hero defeated an enemy general.

After continuous defeats over decades, after losing so much, the people needed hope. If there was no hope, the quivering new soldiers would be unable to fight. The contradiction in his role as the so-called “hope of humanity” was hardly lost on Helmios.

A short while later, Helmios received his next mission: he was to head into enemy territory to take on another general. Because the plan had gone so well last time, the Five Continent Alliance had decided to have him execute it again.

At the time, the next wave of monsters was already advancing on the front lines. Helmios entreated the general of the targeted fortress to hold on until his return, promising to complete his mission as soon as he could.

＊ ＊ ＊

Helmios’s party swiftly made their way through a forest across treacherous footing. This was a shortcut to the enemy general’s hideout that the party’s scout had risked his life to find. Soon they encountered a figure wearing a mask and a clown’s outfit standing in their path as if he was supposed to meet them here.

He sniffed. “Took you a while. I’ve been waiting.”

“Are you the general directing the Army’s forces this time?” Helmios asked the man warily.

“That’s right, Helmios! The name’s Kyubel. I hope you remember it!” the man replied in a casual tone like he was speaking to a friend.

Anissa narrowed her eyes. “What’s with this guy? He a clown? All dressed up in some weird costume.” She seemed to be doubting whether Kyubel truly was the enemy commander.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Helmios warned. “He’s a Demonic Deity.”

“You know I won’t. Wait, Demonic Deity? Another one?”

Just now, Helmios had attempted to use his Analyze skill on Kyubel, but to no avail; his skill did not work on Demonic Deities. In other words, this man named Kyubel must have been one of them.

During their exchange, Kyubel had been laughing flippantly as if he had let down his guard entirely.

“Everyone, ready yourselves.” Helmios prompted his companions to get into formation. They were all aware of just how formidable an enemy a Demonic Deity was, so they stood on high alert.

“RAH! DIE!”

Sword Lord Anissa made the first move, charging straight in with her greatsword held high above her head. She had activated one of her skills, yet Kyubel managed to stop her blade by merely raising a single listless hand. However, the humans already knew that Demonic Deities were incredibly powerful and were therefore unsurprised. Every move they made was to allow Helmios to get close.

Seizing the moment Kyubel was occupied stopping Anissa’s swing, Helmios ducked in. He murmured, “God Strike” under his breath, causing his orichalcum sword to give off a dazzling glow. When he grew close enough, he thrust the sword forward, aiming for the clown’s heart with unerring accuracy.

Thunk.

“Interesting. So this is the power that Elmea gave you. I can see how it’d kill Demonic Deities. Looks like he really went all out for you.”

“What?!”

Helmios could not believe his eyes. Kyubel did not stop his strike with a hand like he did with Anissa’s. Rather, Helmios’s sword had stopped right above his heart without Kyubel even doing anything. The general peered down at the shining weapon with curiosity, touching it all over.

“By the way—sorry, but that skill of yours doesn’t work on me. ’Cus I’m not a Demonic Deity. I’m a Greater Demonic Deity.” After casually correcting Helmios’s misunderstanding, Kyubel drove a fist into the Hero’s abdomen, completely ignoring the orichalcum armor he was wearing.

“Oof!”

“H-Helmios!” Anissa called out before turning back to Kyubel. “You bastard! Let go of my sword!”

Helmios’s companions watched in shock as the Hero was sent flying, yet they valiantly surged forward in attack nonetheless. Helmios blacked out before he had time to tell them to run.

＊ ＊ ＊

One day later, Helmios awoke in a makeshift bed. A man that he recognized approached him.

“Ohhh, Lord Helmios! You’ve come to!” It was the Alliance general who was supposed to be leading the defensive forces back at the fortress.

“Wh-Where am I?” Helmios shook his head, trying to clear his head, then suddenly gasped. “Where is everyone?!”

“You’re at the fortress right now,” the general replied. He then explained that a scout had found Helmios unconscious and brought him back.

“What about my companions?! Where are they?!” Helmios demanded, realizing that he did not see any of them in the room and immediately imagining the worst.

“My lord, you just woke up. I’m not so sure you want to see their remains right away...”

“Their...remains? All of them?”

“I’m very sorry to say so, but...”

The scout had apparently found Helmios lying among the corpses of his party members. Kyubel was already gone. In other words, Kyubel had intentionally chosen not to finish Helmios off.

“I...see...”

Helmios hung his head upon understanding the situation. He knew that in less than a month, he would have another full party of new companions. Given its size, Giamut had plenty of Saints and Sword Lords. Many who attended the Academy dreamed of fighting alongside the “hope of humanity.”

Helmios looked around, taking in his surroundings. Here, at least, the casualties had not climbed very high just yet. After failing his mission and losing his companions, Helmios resolved to at least protect this fortress.

He glanced at his orichalcum armor and sword, which stood propped up against the wall, then turned his gaze to the palm of his hand. He had long since reached the point where the gods stopped giving him trials, and it was unlikely that he would find equipment better than what he already had. He had asked himself what more he could do millions, billions of times, but he never found an answer.

Knock, knock.

“Hm? What is it? Enter.” Helmios looked toward the door, wondering if the general was back to say something he had forgotten to say earlier. However, the person who entered was an elf he did not recognize.

“Excuse me. I heard that Hero Helmios has returned, so...”

“Do you have business with me?”

“Yes, sir. The Sovereign of Spirits in Rohzenheim wishes to see you.”

“Is this about that elven squad I saved again? I already turned down the reward he offered.”

Some time ago, a relief squad of elven healers had come under attack by the Demon Lord Army. Helmios saved them, and afterward, he received word that Rohzen wanted to thank him in person, but he politely declined.

“That is not it. Lord Rohzen has delivered a new prophecy: ‘The light of hope shall soon shine on the world. It will also be the hope of Hero Helmios.’ Please, sir, come to Rohzenheim.”

“My hope...?”

Did such a thing even exist? Real, true hope—not made of papier-mâché and ostentatiously embellished?

And so the Hero who was on the verge of giving in to despair set out for the Ratashian Academy in search of a new hope.