How To Leave The Hero Party- Chapter 3

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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The idea that the world was saved by the Demon King’s demise was nothing more than a children’s fairy tale.

Even before the Demon King appeared, the world had overflowed with monsters.

The Demon King was merely a being who amplified their power and led them.

Therefore, the kingdom still needed to maintain its army, control the adventurers, and continue fighting monsters on the front lines.

Of course, the Demon King’s defeat wasn’t meaningless. The monsters were significantly weaker now.

However,

Even weakened, they were still strong enough to kill, so the Hero’s Party couldn’t leave the battlefield even after the Demon King’s demise.

“Then I understand that you and the others will take charge of the Swallow Plains sector, Hero.”

“…Yes.”

Inside a rather well-maintained tent at the front lines, Hero Claire nodded slightly. The general, hardened by long years of battling monsters, was serious, blunt, and intimidating.

She should have been used to it by now, but she couldn’t help feeling intimidated in front of high-ranking officials.

After all, during their quest to defeat the Demon King, such matters had always been handled by someone else.

“Are there any particular needs you have?”

“Ah, yes… S- Support from the priests for healing…”

“About that… I’m afraid it’s not possible. But you managed to complete the crucial task of defeating the Demon King without priests, didn’t you?”

“That’s…”

“I must ask you again. Every time we pull priests from the front lines for healing duties, the lines weaken.”

It wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t entirely true either. He prioritized maintaining the front lines, yet refused to allocate priests to those tasked with crucial offensive operations, which were also essential for maintaining those very lines.

It was hypocritical and contradictory.

At the general’s cold words, Claire merely bit her lip.

Noticing her anxiety and discontent, the general lowered his head slightly.

But there was nothing he could do.

He knew what had happened to the priests and other support personnel assigned to them previously. And now, there were no more volunteers.

“I implore you. Many soldiers here are relying on you.”

What would he have done?

He would have protested, gotten angry on her behalf.

But he was gone.

Dejected, Claire murmured in a self-deprecating tone,

“…Yes. A- And the Sage…”

“We’re inquiring with the Adventurer’s Guild about that.”

“…Couldn’t I go and see him myself?”

“I won’t stop you if you insist, but… haven’t you already tried several times without success? The Adventurer’s Guild said he personally saw the requests and ignored them.”

“T- That’s impossible.”

“It’s true.”

The general sighed heavily, shattering Claire’s fragile hope.

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“…Oh.”

“Well, I’ll be returning to the royal capital soon. You can check again then. Now, regarding the next front…”

They discussed a few more matters, but Claire barely heard anything. This meeting had only served to reinforce her own inadequacy.

The long meeting finally over, Claire emerged from the tent, her face pale.

Her white boots became increasingly muddied with each step she took on the ground stained with dirt and monster blood.

Her once smooth and clear skin was now rough, her hair frayed at the ends.

And the most significant change was in her once sun-like orange eyes, which were gradually losing their light.

It’s too much.

It’s too hard.

I’m scared.

Negative emotions and stress piled up, but Claire couldn’t show it.

He had endured far more.

Entering her own tent, one of the better ones on the battlefield, Claire bit her lip and collapsed onto the floor.

It was far more comfortable than the tents they’d used during their journey to defeat the Demon King, but it was eerily quiet.

A better bed, a better table.

The tent, which she occupied alone, was spacious.

But empty.

Leventia, a member of the Hero’s Party, was fighting elsewhere.

Evangeline wouldn’t be returning to the battlefield anytime soon due to injuries sustained in the last battle.

And.

And.

The Sage, too.

He, who had always been by their side, was gone.

There was no one.

Things had improved since the Sage left, but the loneliness and pain were more acute.

“Haaah…”

Sighing, Claire forced herself up and sat on the bed. She gripped the fluffy duvet, a rare luxury on the battlefield.

It was cold.

Much colder than the worn sleeping bag the Sage used to prepare.

As her grip tightened, Claire’s thoughts raced.

What went wrong?

What did I do wrong?

Clinging to her crumbling composure, Claire found the answer.

No, she already knew the answer.

The Sage…

After drawing the Hero’s sword, proving herself as the Hero, and vowing to defeat the Demon King and save the world,

She had formed a party with Leventia, the skilled knight, and Evangeline, the excellent archer—two people she had prior connections with. They had pledged to defeat the Demon King together.

To stay together, no matter what.

To defeat the Demon King, no matter the hardship.

They made their oath at the Tail Tavern, raising their glasses. That’s when they first met him.

He had looked at them with a bewildered expression, asking to join their party.

But the divine protection, governing the past, present, and future, was bestowed upon only three.

Therefore, they couldn’t accept him.

But he,

The man who identified himself as a Sage, had simply smiled and said he didn’t need the protection, following the party anyway.

He simply wanted to help the Hero’s Party defeat the Demon King.

And he had appointed himself as their supporter.

She had felt guilty.

He didn’t even receive divine protection.

And grateful.

He helped them without asking for anything in return.

So, what had they done to him in return?

With trembling hands, she pulled a small framed picture from her pocket. A precious picture.

It had been painted shortly after they began their journey, commemorating their victory over the Demon King’s first subordinate.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut.

Although the colors had faded,

She, Leventia, Evangeline, and the Sage in the picture were all smiling happily.

When had the laughter faded from their party?

If she had stopped Leventia and Evangeline from berating the Sage, could they have maintained those smiles?

As a child, lying on the grasslands with the night sky as her blanket, she had heard her father say that the Hero’s journey was romantic.

A beautiful journey to defeat the world’s enemy, the Demon King.

But the reality was different.

Sleeping rough in harsh environments was commonplace, and the Demon King’s attacks, aimed at stopping the Hero, were relentless.

There was even a time when a noble who had promised support had tried to use the Hero’s Party for his own gain.

There were many times they had to ignore pleas for help from monster-stricken villages because they needed to move quickly.

The journey, romantic to some, was agony for them.

As the journey continued, their spirits wore down, and the naive courage they’d felt at the Tail Tavern on that first day quickly dwindled, crushed by reality.

It was the Sage who had healed them amidst the fear, loneliness, and hardship of their journey.

He had prepared their sleeping arrangements.

He had prepared delicious meals with limited funds.

When they couldn’t stop at villages, he somehow managed to hunt, feeding them even when he himself went hungry.

He handled healing in their priest-less party and even fought alongside them at times.

When nobles tried to exploit them, he stepped forward to protect them, guiding them on the right path.

And that wasn’t all.

Whenever their spirits faltered, he would make them laugh with his strange lute playing.

After difficult battles, he would tell silly jokes to put them at ease.

When they had to abandon something small to prevent a greater danger.

When they had to turn a blind eye to villagers’ desperate pleas for help.

He had smiled gently, saying I’ll stay behind, you have a greater task to fulfill.

It was thanks to him that they could experience even a sliver of romance in their arduous journey.

But…

Why did we treat him like that?

“Haaaah…”

There were many reasons.

Their spirits were frayed.

They were exhausted.

And…

The Sage never left, no matter how they treated him.

When they were exhausted from the arduous journey, cursing and despairing, the Knight would lash out at him for comforting them.

The proud and arrogant Elven Archer, whenever her pride was wounded, would hurl harsh words at the Sage, hurting him deeply.

And there was more.

When he meticulously managed their meager funds to prepare a delicious meal, they would complain that they didn’t want to eat it.

The day after they screamed and wailed, complaining about the same old food,

He would comfort them with an even better meal.

The day after they cursed him for his unfunny jokes,

He would seek out a jester to learn new ones.

The Sage always smiled, always positive.

And what had they said to him…?

Her sharp mind dredged up the past. The cold, sharp memories, unearthed without hesitation, were like blocks of ice, too painful to touch.

They had berated him, asking why he could smile when they were suffering so much.

‐You don’t understand.

-Unlike us, burdened with this mission and blessed to endure this agonizing journey, you know nothing.

-You aren’t suffering at all.

At their breaking points, Leventia and Evangeline had lashed out at him, trying to protect themselves.

Even faced with such verbal abuse, abuse that would have broken her own spirit, the Sage merely smiled. And the next day, he was the same.

Feeling guilty about his impassivity, they only grew worse.

Perhaps it was inevitable.

The Sage was the only one who tolerated their complaints and frustrations, their only outlet amidst the heavy burden of their mission to defeat the Demon King.

And what had she done back then?

Her body trembled with the disgust brought on by the cold memories.

Claire gripped her arms tightly.

So tightly that her fingernails dug into her pale skin, drawing blood, but she couldn’t care less.

He must have been in more pain.

The Sage, who had shouldered the burden she had shirked, must have suffered more.

It was her duty as the Hero, as their leader, to soothe and guide her party members.

Yet, Claire hadn’t done it.

She couldn’t.

She was suffering too.

She was afraid of being disliked.

She, too, was in pain and couldn’t bear the pain and despair of others.

So, she looked away.

She turned a blind eye to the Sage’s unspoken needs, his pure, selfless goodwill.

Without a thought to how deeply she was hurting him.

She ignored the fact that he, without blessing or mission, had followed them solely for their sake, and instead, she burdened him further.

-He’ll be fine.

-He’s following us of his own free will.

-If it were truly unbearable, he would have left, but he hasn’t.

Clinging to such convenient and sweet excuses,

She, the so-called Hero, too cowardly to face her party members’ disapproval, had leaned on him as well.

But he had finally left.

He was gone. He who had supported and cheered them on from behind throughout their journey, accepting their ugliness and foolishness.

She would have felt less guilty if he had cursed them out before leaving.

But even in his parting moments, he had cheered them on.

“Aaah…”

She should have stopped it.

She should have stopped their baseless accusations and criticisms.

She should have lightened his burden.

She should have done what she, as the Hero, was supposed to do.

She should have done what she, as their leader, was supposed to do.

‘I didn’t mock him.’

‘I didn’t berate him.’

‘I didn’t torment him.’

As the darkness hidden deep within her whispered, Claire forced out a response.

“But I…”

‘I ignored his pain.’

‘I disregarded his cries.’

‘I did nothing.’

She hadn’t mocked, berated, or tormented him.

She had done nothing.

She hadn’t helped him, hadn’t stopped the others, hadn’t shared his burden.

To protect herself, the darkness within desperately cried out.

‘I was suffering too.’

‘I was in pain too.’

‘But unlike them, I didn’t burden him.’

But the truth remained—she had been a mere bystander, turning a blind eye.

In the end, she, too, had committed a grave sin against him.

She had been complicit in deepening the wounds carved into his heart.

An unwitting bystander?

No.

She was a bystander stained by insidious malice, by the despicable desire to avoid being disliked even by the suffering Sage.

Her mind chipped away at her heart, revealing the answers she had long avoided.

Carved from the ice of guilt was a single teardrop.

The Hero, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, let it fall from her sun-like eyes.

“Sob… Sob… Huhuhu…”

Why did I do that?

Because I was afraid.

Hadn’t he truly suffered?

She remembered him moaning in his sleep.

Muttering in his dreams about wanting to go back, wanting to leave.

She had known his pain.

She had known his suffering.

And yet, she…

She had simply…

“…Sob… Huhuhu… I’m sorry… Sorry… I’m sorry…”

She had been afraid.

She hadn’t been brave enough.

What kind of Hero was she?

What kind of courageous person was she?

She, who had turned a blind eye to the suffering of the one who supported them out of pure goodwill.

She knew.

Even now, having drawn the Hero’s sword and received God’s blessing and protection,

She was still just a timid girl from the countryside.

Despite the facade created by the Hero’s power and divine protection, she was just a fool with a bit of strength.

A fool who pretended to be kind because she was afraid of being disliked.

Claire desperately tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her face, but like a broken faucet, they wouldn’t stop.

Even though she had cried so much yesterday.

No, ever since the Sage left, she had been crying constantly, consumed by regret, despair, guilt, and self-loathing.

And still, the tears wouldn’t stop.

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