This World Needs a Hero

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[Translator – Night]

[Proofreader – Gun]

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The world is horrifically cruel.

It was a truth everyone repeated over and over.

Flora, a first-year student in the Rosenstark Support Department, majoring in healing magic, had heard it so many times that her ears practically had calluses.

However, the world Flora experienced was not so bad.

She came from the capital.

A wealthy family, loving parents.

A natural talent for healing magic.

On top of that, a reasonably pretty face.

People were kind to her, and she had never encountered monsters or demons, the so-called enemies of humanity, in her life.

…That must be why.

When faced with the gaping maw of the undead, which looked like a small hell, she couldn’t move a single step.

‘Ah, I should have just run away.’

It was the result of hesitating to treat a guard groaning under fallen rocks.

Flora tightly closed her eyes.

“Flora!”

The piercing scream of her friend.

But fortunately, the scream soon turned into a sigh of relief.

Crack-

A huge blunt weapon shattered the undead’s head in an instant.

Clatter-

As the shape-shifter reverted to its sword form, Flora could only blink.

“Can you stand?”

“Oh, yes….”

Leciel, the granddaughter of the Sword Saint.

She was so famous that even Flora, from a different department, knew of her.

Like other friends, she had secretly admired Leciel’s undoubtedly glamorous life.

But now.

The girl standing before Flora looked too unfortunate to be the object of anyone’s admiration.

Flora barely managed to speak.

“Th-th-thank you.”

Yet the face, twisted in agony and covered in blood and dust, did not turn toward Flora.

Groooar-

Leciel only stared at the approaching undead horde from the distance.

Without looking back, she pushed Flora’s back.

“Run in the direction I came from.”

Flora did as Leciel instructed.

Several times, the resilient undead tried to grasp Flora, but with a few more swipes of Leciel’s wrist, they shattered into pieces and ceased moving.

Tap-

Leciel ran forward again.

…How long had it been since the invasion started?

10 minutes? 30 minutes? Or an hour?

During that time, Leciel fought tirelessly around Rosenstark.

At first, she wanted to fight against Yol, but her grandmother mercilessly chased her away.

“Leciel, go to where you are needed most.”

It meant she wouldn’t be useful in the fight with Yol.

Leciel was angry, but she wasn’t so unreasonable as to insist on staying.

Her grandmother wouldn’t be able to focus on the battle just by having her there.

Stepping aside was the wise choice.

…But she was terribly worried.

Leciel kept looking back as she descended the hill.

‘Where I am needed most….’

Before she could even think of that, the horrors unfolding before her emptied her mind.

Corpses being devoured by the undead.

People running around screaming.

Burning buildings and acrid smoke.

The ground covered with dust and scorched blood.

…She cut down all visible enemies.

Many powerful undead fell under Leciel’s hand.

Numerous students, staff, and even professors expressed their gratitude for being saved.

But Leciel’s expression grew darker.

‘…It’s my fault.’

The girl looked at the academy turning into ruins with a feeling of nausea.

‘…If only I had been a bit more perceptive.’

Since Dante came to Rosenstark.

She undoubtedly spent the most time with him.

If she had harbored even a bit of suspicion.

If she had discovered even the slightest oddity.

Would the tragedy before her eyes have been lessened?

Leciel bit her lip hard.

‘Because I was stupid….’

She had been completely fooled by his smooth talk and pretense of kindness.

Leciel recalled Dante, who had smiled and drawn pictures in the night sky.

How could she have not noticed such evil?

If it were the quick-witted Cuculli or Karen, they surely would have noticed something off.

‘Ah….’

Leciel stopped in her tracks.

She had found a familiar corpse lying on the ground.

A brown-haired girl.

She couldn’t remember her name.

But coincidentally, they shared several classes, so she knew her face.

At the beginning of the term, when Leciel was extremely shy, the girl had awkwardly scratched her head after asking for an autograph and being rejected.

She should have just signed it.

Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind once again.

“Leciel, go to where you are needed most.”

Leciel stood there, dazed.

Where was she supposed to go?

Where was she needed the most?

It seemed as if people were calling her from every corner of Rosenstark.

Screams, shouts, the clanging of metal, the groans of the undead.

All of it crashed into her ears, blurring together.

…But there was one voice that gradually became clearer.

“Leciel.”

It was the voice that had gently guided her without scolding whenever she grew impatient.

“Stop for a moment, take a deep breath, and refocus. You are someone who wields the sword of the heart. You must never lose your sharpness, no matter the situation.”

…If it had been the Hero.

If her mentor had been standing here instead of her, what would he have done?

He was a meticulous and calm person.

Someone who could observe and analyze the situation no matter how turbulent the waves.

Surely, he would have retraced the steps of the event from the beginning and figured out Dante’s scheme.

Leciel wanted to resemble the Hero more than anyone else.

When she thought about what he would have done, surprisingly, her tumultuous heart began to calm, and she started to grasp the faint outline of something she had been missing.

‘Is Dante’s plan really just about the summoning? Isn’t there something more…?’

If there were an additional scheme, she, who had spent the most time with Dante, would be the one to notice it.

‘…Oh?’

Lost in thought, Leciel stood still.

…There was.

When she had shown Dante around various places in Rosenstark.

There was a place where he had shown an unusually high level of interest.

A place where he had stayed longer than anywhere else, absorbed in his drawings.

That place was not the control tower, which was now being guarded by all available forces.

Nor was it the outer wall where non-combatants were evacuated.

Nor was it the hill where Yol had been summoned.

‘…No one will be guarding it now.’

Before she could think further, her body moved on its own.

Tap-

Leciel accelerated quickly, turning her back on the academy’s center.

…But her gaze involuntarily returned to the body of the brown-haired girl receding in the distance.

‘I’m sorry.’

Instead of closing her eyes tightly, Leciel gripped the hilt of her sword firmly.

* * *

“Oh… this isn’t good.”

Karen’s voice trembled slightly as they approached the control tower.

Gerald also stopped, looking pale.

Everyone’s eyes fixed on the throng of undead.

“What the hell, why are there so many?”

Although they had crossed the academy without rest, their destination, the control tower, was already surrounded.

The children were quite taken aback.

“Damn, did we waste too much time fighting?”

The way there had not been easy.

——————

[Translator – Night]

[Proofreader – Gun]

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Yol had dedicated a considerable number of forces to capturing the control tower, and as a result, they had faced continuous small skirmishes over the past several minutes.

Thus, their arrival was delayed, and in the meantime, undead advancing from other directions had reached the control tower first.

“Argh!”

“Hold them! They’re coming!”

The sounds of battle echoed.

Fortunately, the siege was relatively thin, likely because not many troops had arrived yet, but the situation was still far from good.

The children looked around with serious expressions, muttering to each other.

“What should we do?”

“Should we try to break through? Or go around?”

…It was then.

Thud thud thud thud-

A subtle vibration was felt from behind.

Irregular footsteps and groans carried by the wind.

The children’s expressions grew even grimmer.

“Ah, they’re coming from behind.”

“Aren’t we going to be surrounded?”

In front was a dense encirclement.

Behind, the slowly approaching reinforcements.

There were even what seemed to be commander-level undead among them.

A chillingly ominous aura emanated from them.

…The children naturally looked at Luke.

Luke was contemplating three options in his mind.

First, a direct breakthrough.

Charge forward in a wedge formation and break through the siege.

If successful, it would be the best option.

They could quickly join forces with the tower’s defenders and hold out in a secure location.

But….

‘The risk is too high.’

They were likely to end up surrounded from both front and back.

It would be fortunate if they could break through easily, but if their charge were delayed even for a moment by those commander-level undead….

‘We’ll be completely sandwiched. At least half of us will be lost.’

On the other hand, the second option was safer.

‘Immediately turn around and attack the reinforcements coming from behind.’

But this was closer to the ‘lesser evil’ rather than a ‘second-best’ option.

While his comrades would be safe, the tower would remain isolated.

Abandoning the tower.

While they dealt with the reinforcements and maneuvered around, the siege in front would only strengthen.

The chances of breaking through would become increasingly slim.

…So then, the last option.

As Luke thought of the final option, his face darkened.

‘The third option….’

It was the most efficient tactic.

The success rate was high, and it would yield the greatest results with the least sacrifice.

Luke slowly looked around at his friends.

“Your command shows a learned ruthlessness.”

The evaluation he received from the Hero during a simulacrum exercise at the beginning of the semester echoed in his ears.

Combat simulation through dolls.

At that time, Luke had mercilessly used his friends like pieces on a chessboard.

“Hold on, just a bit longer.”

“If Cuculli dies, Nyhill takes the front. If Nyhill dies, Beorn steps in.”

“The rear decoy is Evergreen and Leciel. The two of them will scatter and draw attention….”

A strategy that only considered reason, analysis, and purpose.

The third option was precisely that kind of strategy.

‘Some of us stay behind as a shield to block the reinforcements, while the rest break through the front.’

If they implemented it now, they could probably save the most soldiers and join forces with the control tower.

This kind of strategy, where some troops bore all the risk, was frequently used by Ravias.

Fear of Ravias made the members willing to endure the sacrifice, and they always achieved optimal results.

‘…No.’

But Luke shook his head immediately.

Such a strategy was impossible in this situation.

His friends weren’t soldiers; would they accept an order that demanded sacrifice?

And most importantly, he didn’t want to use such methods anymore.

“…You made us do it all the time, Captain.”

Luke, shaking off the hallucination of a painful face lingering in his ears, made a decision.

‘Option 2, let’s go safely.’

Luke was about to raise his voice when it happened.

Tap-

Someone tapped him on the back.

Gerald, his head tilted to one side, was looking at him.

Before he could ask why.

“Hey, think it over. Why are you acting unlike yourself?”

“What?”

“If the control tower falls, we all die. It’s just a matter of time.”

The only reason the academy’s forces, despite being heavily outnumbered, were barely holding on was due to the academy’s defenses (barriers, siege artifacts, guardians, etc.).

If the control tower were to shut down?

Most of those defenses would be disabled.

“The tower has to hold out at least until the professors arrive. Otherwise, a lot of people are going to die.”

Gerald stared intently at Luke.

“You’ve used such strategies before, haven’t you? Why hesitate now?”

“…Because you’re not my subordinates.”

“Good point. We’re not your subordinates. So, let go of some of that burden.”

The mischievous glint in Gerald’s eyes had vanished.

Gerald reached out and firmly gripped Luke’s shoulder.

“Listen well, Luke. Defending the tower is going to be extremely tough. The undead army will keep coming endlessly, and you’ll be fighting until this crisis ends. You know that.”

Gerald glanced at the undead approaching from behind.

Time was running out.

“So, you have to make it. Not Evergreen, not Karen, not me. You’re the one who can defend the tower in such a dreadful battle.”

Gerald raised his spear.

It was the spear bearing the Hero’s insignia.

“Everyone has a role to play. We can’t leave you here as bait, right?”

“You…”

“I’ll stay behind and draw the reinforcements. That’s the right thing to do.”

Gerald was sincere.

Once a boy who prided himself on having the most brilliant talent, he had come to a clearer understanding of himself after spending time with his friends.

But that ruthless self-assessment did not lead to despair.

That was Gerald’s special trait.

‘Everyone has a role.’

Gerald looked at Luke.

“So, I’m asking you. Act like the cold-blooded commander for once.”

Luke ground his teeth.

“You idiot, you just said we’re not your subordinates.”

“Yet you’re convinced, aren’t you?”

A few of the surrounding children stood by Gerald’s side.

Karen, Beorn, Aileen, Aidan.

…Luke slowly turned to look at the tower.

At that moment.

“What?”

Boom-!

With a loud explosion, part of the undead formation at the rear collapsed.

The children momentarily forgot their resolve and stared wide-eyed at the scene of destruction.

Swoosh-!

A sword light powerful enough to be seen from afar swept through the undead.

A giant greatsword, familiar swordsmanship.

At first, they thought their professor, the Hero, had finally arrived.

But it wasn’t.

Karen blinked.

“…Professor Labin?”

Thud thud thud-

The elderly professor was charging through the undead alone.

Every time his greatsword, reminiscent of Black Hope, was swung, bone dust scattered in all directions.

“Was he always this strong?”

It was an oddly powerful presence.

Even as undead teeth and claws grazed his body, he remained unyielding.

Then, Labin’s thunderous roar swallowed all surrounding sounds and struck the children’s ears.

“What are you doing?!”

The children snapped back to reality.

The elderly professor’s determined face, his eyes shining with clear decisiveness, turned towards them.

“Advance!”

Thud-

The greatsword pointed towards the tower.

“Forward!”

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[Translator – Night]

[Proofreader – Gun]

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