Chapter 13: From the Perspective of the Hero

To the people of this world, I am the entity known as “The Hero of the Lost Lands”. As the Hero, I travel town by town and help the people of Namida with their troubles. I defeat monsters, solve mysteries, and work towards defeating the ultimate evil, the Demon King. With the Holy Sword of Happiyendeng, I will bring peace to Namida and pay my respects to the Goddess, Nephelai.

When I first heard of this destiny, I was excited. I was maybe a little scared, but the opportunities for boundless potential quickly squandered my worries. A Hero should be forthright and strong for the people he saves, should he not? I quickly fixed my attitude and found myself smiling.

My smile did not last long.

I had a meeting with the Goddess in my dreams. Within my mind, Nephelai appeared on a silver throne, in a sea of clouds, far from my vision. I could barely make out her figure throughout all the silver lining, but somehow perceived her endlessly long pink hair and her crystal blue eyes. With a voice that was indecipherable, she urged me into my destiny and encouraged me to pick up the Holy Sword of Happiyendeng. When I woke up that morning, the Holy Sword was right at my bedside.

The moment I picked up that sword, I lost control of my body.

My movements became stiff, my mouth wouldn’t open when I wanted to speak, and all the people who used to talk naturally suddenly became overly chipper. The entire world had changed through a simple sword, and I had no idea why that was the case.

My destiny played out right before my eyes, and my body acted out my future while I was trapped inside. I was a spectator to my own adventure while being trapped in the very vessel that completed it.

It took me a while to get used to things, but I didn't lose hope. A Hero should never lose hope. Even if my movements were stiff and repeated the same motions, and even if I couldn't talk to anyone properly, I was exploring the world.

I still saw all the creatures and people of Namida, and the various cultures were a joy to experience, even as a spectator. I used my observation of all of these things as a way to comfort myself. If I were to just hold on a little longer, all of these people would be saved from the Demon King. If nothing else, my body had the abilities of the Hero. I could count on that.

I took the strange sounds I heard, and the various music that filled my head as blessings from the Goddess Nephelai. I could not understand them, but at the moment I felt I didn't need to. The battles were slow and methodical, and there were words that appeared before my eyes every time I did something. Strange sounds filled my ears when I talked to someone or found a useful item. I didn't understand it all, but it helped me progress, so I was fine with the oddities of my senses. I simply took that as the role of the Hero.

I met my traveling companions through strange means. Garst Gerhard, a spearman 2 years my senior, was a cocky individual, but not in a way that annoyed me. He had confidence, and even though I could never respond to his jokes, I enjoyed the fun he introduced into my travels.

Serabelle, the saintess, had a foul personality, but she gradually warmed up to everyone. It became clear to me that she was very serious in serving her role as a guide to the Hero, despite her attitude.

Maya, our fighter, was always energetic. Despite her admittedly intimidating appearance, she was always ready for battle, and would fight to the end even in the toughest situations.

As the silent vessel of the Hero, I lead them all towards victory. In battles and while traveling, they all became rigid and silent like me. Like every person I talked to, they were fine with anything my body did. Stealing their possessions or breaking their decorations was trivial. My body commanded them all with just a silent look, and they followed. I was torn with guilt. I couldn't decide between wanting them to stay and wanting them to leave, but as someone who was also trapped, I was unable to make the decision anyways.

At least I could take solace in the fact that my party could speak however they wanted. That was a small victory.

Eventually, we reached the Demon King. I was hopeful that this battle would end everything. That I would be able to move as myself and truly speak with my greatest friends. That this nightmare of silent agony could be washed away.

The Demon King of Wrath, Abb Saluut Kayaus, was formidable. It was a long battle. But victory was achieved. The entirety of Namida celebrated. I was content to settle down and live the rest of my life peacefully. For a small moment I could move my body by myself.

And yet, the moment I smiled, my entire world restarted.

I woke up again at my bedside, and before I could even understand what was happening, the Holy Sword of Happiyendeng was in my hands. Everything started to repeat. People acted the same way, and I met my party once more. I still slayed monsters and saved towns from the same problems. Things were slightly different in how I moved and where I went, or the order I did things, but the reality was that I was trapped again.

Everything that happened was for nothing.

Nothing.

My hope nearly shattered, but I clung onto the small differences in this second life and prayed to Nephelai that it would grant me my freedom. If this was one of her trials, I would endure it. This Namida could be a different one that still needed saving. So I endured.

And the process repeated again.

And again.

And again and again and again and again.

There was no end to it. Hundreds of times the world reset, and even then the cycle continued. Things were slightly different each time, but the world was a puppet to a storyteller who only knew one tale, and I was the sole witness to its repetition. As the singular member of the audience who had no companion to share my worries with, all I could do was desperately cling on to the slight differences and hope that the timeline would change. Somewhere in this eternal darkness, I would be able to see the light and reach a different, better ending.

It never arrived.

I had lost the hope I was so proud of. My prayers to Nephelai were never answered. The pleasant music that filled my ears now became an annoyance. I could no longer bond with my companions who forgot me every single time. Their genuine words filled with emotion now felt empty and hollow. I had accepted that I was trapped for eternity.

But then, something changed.

I don't know when it was or how it happened. I nearly missed it. But there was a girl in Dadirdtoun who was different. When I spoke with the Village Elder, she was outside of his building with his attendant. I recognized this as just another small difference.

My perspective was altered when the same girl interrupted the Frying Festival to talk about monster cuisine. I could only hear her from a distance, but I recognized the voice.

Rather than the overly cheerful display she presented to me when I talked to her, the girl's voice was full of passion and rambled on nonstop.

“Trust me! The Frying Festival would be great with some monster meals in the mix! I'm eating it just fine, see? These Slimeamander Bites are super addicting, and if you don't want to eat the Goop Soup by itself, you can dip the Bites into it!”

I wanted to see her. I wanted to see what was going on. This event was so unprecedented that I couldn't afford to miss it. This could be the key to my salvation. My body granted me the mercy of heading in her direction. Was this something I was supposed to be involved in?

Finally, I saw her. Her long, black hair swayed in the night wind as she enthusiastically consumed horrendous looking dishes in front of everyone. She was rotating around and gleefully appealing to the crowd, ignoring the claims of heresy and witchcraft thrown her way. Her pace was rampant, and it never stopped.

And then we locked eyes. For a split second, I saw fear and anger flash across her face. The girl's speech faltered for just a moment, but she caught herself. In that brief interaction, her green eyes glowed with an intensity that threatened to overpower everything.

The girl seemed to perceive me as an enemy. She subtly took steps back every time my body moved towards her, but maintained her plea towards the crowd. My body drew the Holy Sword from its scabbard. Seeing that, and the crowd's rising dissatisfaction, the girl forcefully made herself laugh at everything around her before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

As much as I willed myself to follow, my body would not move, and I cursed my situation yet again. Serabelle tried to get my attention, and it was the first time I've heard her say something new in over a thousand resets.

Despite Serabelle’s incessant poking at my side, both me and my body ignored her and stared down the alleyway in which the girl disappeared. It was as if the vessel and the mind had finally agreed on something after an eternity. Perhaps both sides of myself were synchronizing in a desire to finally end this accursed loop.

No matter what, we needed to find that girl again.