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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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A week had passed.
“Alright, strike a pose! Say cheese!”
“Hmm…”
“Hero, please stay still! It’s just for an hour!”
“But…”
You’ve been saying that for half a day. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down.
Being the hero sucked. Ever since I revealed my identity at the hearing, I had been at the beck and call of the Imperial officials.
Photo shoots for the press, reading prepared statements that sounded like press conferences… Unlike the Holy City, the Empire was a democratic republic disguised as a constitutional monarchy.
Freedom of the press was apparently a thing here. And that wasn’t all.
I had been subjected to etiquette lessons because a hero couldn’t look unkempt, and noblewomen had given me a full makeover, something I had never experienced even on Earth.
I felt like a doll. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
Elliot was already handsome, but with the makeup, I looked like a celebrity.
‘Ahahahaha! What is that?!’
Erwin had mocked me.
‘Uh… um…’
Ophelia, looking like she was experiencing cognitive dissonance, had lowered her head and fled.
Did I look that bad? I thought I looked quite handsome.
“Just bear with it for a little while longer.”
Alberich said with a wry smile. But his eyes were twinkling with amusement. A new star was rising, replacing him, the symbol of the Empire.
I suspected Alberich was secretly delighted to have a scapegoat.
“Don’t worry. The story about the Saintess will be in the news tomorrow. Things will calm down after that.”
Alberich was right. The Continental Alliance had decided on the Holy City’s punishment at the hearing.
The Holy City’s influence had plummeted; they were now at the bottom of the Alliance. It was the consequence of their actions.
Their only remaining asset was Ophelia, the Saintess. And she had just requested asylum in the Empire. The Empire, of course, had accepted.
The Holy City, having lost its Saintess, was in a very precarious position.
“Ophelia, are you sure about this?”
“Being a refugee isn’t so bad. And you’re switching to the Empire as well, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“I’m going with you.”
She said it so casually that I simply shrugged.
“Anyway, I have to go.”
“That… training session?”
“Yeah. It’s fun beating people up after such a long time.”
“….”
While I had been busy with my… heroic duties, Ophelia had been receiving divine power training from Ured, the Inquisitor who had transferred to the Imperial Church.
It was less a training session and more of a sparring match, with Ophelia unleashing her divine power and Ured trying to withstand it.
Ured, who had initially been quite arrogant about teaching her, was shocked to discover that Ophelia’s combat abilities far exceeded his expectations. He had returned from their first session covered in bruises, thoroughly beaten by Ophelia.
“Are you okay?”
“These are Holy scars.”
Well, if he could still talk nonsense like that, he was probably fine. Anyway, the eventful week was finally over, and I was free, having completed all the necessary procedures to officially become the hero.
The next day, Alberich visited me at my quarters.
“I’d like to request a spar.”
“A spar?”
“Just a friendly match.”
Alberich’s expression was serious. A mock battle with the Sword Saint.
It was a tempting offer. An opportunity to fight the strongest swordsman on the continent wasn’t something that came along often. Azar was a strong warrior, but he wasn’t a swordsman. Sparring with Alberich would be more beneficial.
My encounter with the Shadows of God had made me realize that my swordsmanship was lacking. Perhaps I could improve by sparring with the Sword Saint.
Seeing my hesitation, Alberich sweetened the deal.
“If you’re hesitant, how about a wager?”
“A wager?”
“If I win, you become an honorary knight of the Imperial Knights.”
An honorary knight. It was essentially a meaningless title. They just wanted to associate the hero with the Imperial Knights.
“And if I win?”
“You still become an honorary knight.”
“That’s pointless.”
“I suppose so.”
Alberich seemed to consider it, then smiled.
“Then if you win, I’ll give you an artifact from my family.”
My eyes widened. Alberich von Reudenstein. His family was one of the oldest and wealthiest knight families in the Empire. Their vault must be filled with powerful artifacts.
In the game, Alberich was equipped with top-tier magical items from head to toe.
“Can you even decide that? What about your family elders?”
“I’m the heir, so I have a certain degree of authority. Besides, what’s so strange about the Sword Saint giving an artifact to the hero?”
It was a tempting offer. I hesitated for a moment.
“Wait here.”
“Why?”
“I need to get Ophelia’s permission.”
She would probably object, claiming it was too dangerous. I could defeat Geldmere, but I couldn’t win against Ophelia’s stubbornness. Three years of experience had taught me that.
“….”
Alberich’s expression was complicated.
“Can I ask… what your relationship with the Saintess is?”
“We’re just… the Saintess and the Hero…?”
“Hmm…”
Alberich seemed to have a lot to say, but he simply said, “Discuss it with the Saintess and let me know.” He then left.
I found Ophelia that evening. She seemed to be in a good mood, having thoroughly beaten Ured.
“Is your training session over?”
“Yeah. That idiot Ured ended up groveling at my feet.”
“…Aren’t you being too harsh on him? He’s your lifesaver.”
“He’s a masochist.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
I explained the situation. Ophelia placed her hand on her chin and looked at me.
“Are you confident you can win?”
“Winning or losing isn’t the point. It’s just a spar. I’m curious about the Sword Saint’s skills.”
“Just win.”
“Excuse me?”
“Crush him. I won’t forgive you if you lose.”
“As if you could do anything about it.”
“You little…”
Ophelia growled, and I took a step back.
“Anyway, you have to win. The hero losing to the Sword Saint? How am I supposed to show my face in public after that?”
“What does my loss have to do with your reputation?”
“…It just does!”
Ophelia insisted, and I simply nodded. Could I really defeat the Sword Saint? With the Mark, I had a chance. But…
“I’m not very confident. He’s the strongest swordsman on the continent, after all.”
“Then you just have to be the strongest in the world.”
“What do you take me for?”
“The strongest hero in the world, obviously.”
“….”
Ophelia’s cheeks flushed.
“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?”
“A-anyway!”
Ophelia turned her head away.
“Just you wait… I won’t forgive you if you lose!”
“I’ll… try my best.”
I informed Alberich of my decision that evening. The spar was scheduled for two days later. And the day arrived.
“….”
I frowned as I stepped onto the training grounds of the Imperial Guard.
“You said this was just a spar.”
“That’s what I said, but…”
“What’s with the crowd?”
The training grounds were packed. It looked like a coliseum.
Temporary seats had been set up, and important figures from various nations, including Elderian and Erwin, were present. Banners bearing the Reudenstein crest fluttered in the wind.
A vendor was selling souvenirs with the Hero’s Mark, and gamblers were taking bets on the outcome of the spar.
“Well…”
Alberich sighed and said, “His Majesty seems to be… quite interested in this spar.”
“….”
“I told the elders I would open the family vault, and… word reached the Imperial Palace.”
“Tsk.”
Being the hero really sucked.
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Hi Lord Fourth here!
I’m still new to translating as this is my second novel to pick up, so if you find some mistakes or inconsistencies let me know about it on the dedicated channel on discord.
