The First Prince's revival from a desperate situation, and the devastating blow against Karma that no one had anticipated.
It was sending ripples across countless points on the battlefield.
"Get up. Don't give up, soldiers. —Look to him."
Of all the positions on the battlefield, this was the most desperate — the spot where soldiers' morale had hit rock bottom, on the verge of collapse. There, the quiet voice of the captain of the royal guard rang out.
He didn't bother shouting at the top of his lungs. He was convinced his words would carry without that, and besides, in the face of what they were all witnessing, raising one's voice felt crude even to him.
So what followed was spare, unadorned.
"He has risen — that one.
The one standing
against
that
is
the Crown Prince
, Your Highness.
Surely none here fail to understand what that means."
The captain's voice sank into the soldiers.
And with it, a heat — the same kind that had surged through them when Herk bared his soul moments ago, but far greater in magnitude — began to swirl among the troops.
For the soldiers of the Kingdom of Yustia, the battlefield had always been a place for one thing only: defeating opponents they could beat.
Those they couldn't possibly overcome — they were simply beyond reach. Toppling such enemies was the work of elite Bloodline Magic users, people born into an entirely different world from their own, the chosen who soared above the clouds.
When facing that kind of battle, the only options for the likes of them were to step aside and leave it to those people, or — if even that wasn't possible — to accept defeat with dignity. There was no third choice.
…And no matter how much bitterness that truth stirred within them, nothing else had ever existed.
Yes. And.
—the First Prince, Herk, was one of their own.
Born into the current royal family yet possessing only enough power to stay within the royal family's bounds and no more. A mage on the unchosen side, a pitiful prince. That was the shared perception soldiers held of Herk. Time and again he had shown himself pathetic, been trampled upon over and over, struggled miserably — and everyone had felt sympathy for that sight.
…He was the same as us. They had even projected themselves onto him.
If the one who had now stepped up to Karma and dealt that blow had been someone like Ermes or Katia, the soldiers would probably have felt nothing much.
Of course they would have been glad to see the enemy struck down, but at the root of it all would have been the notion that "it's only natural for people who were different from the start to do different things." It wouldn't have resonated in their hearts, wouldn't have changed their sense of values. That was what they would have thought.
But this was Herk. The one standing before them now was Herk — the very object of their sympathy and empathy.
He, despite lacking power, had kept struggling. No matter how pathetic he looked, he never gave up. Even when spitting out complaints, even when wracked by despair, he never lost sight of his goal and kept pushing toward it.
And now, through some means they couldn't fathom, he had cornered such a formidable foe.
Seeing him, the soldiers felt something they shouldn't have — something they had been told they must never feel in this country.
Aspiration.
The wish that perhaps they, too, could become like that.
Even without power, even struggling miserably — could it be permissible to reach out and resist for the sake of what they desired, what they wanted?
"…I'll do it."
One soldier stood up.
He was one of the very first to have his spirit broken by the desperate situation.
"I have to do it. —I have to fight in a way that doesn't shame him. That's what I truly feel right now."
Words spoken to no one in particular, closer to a murmur to himself. And because of that, the sincerity overflowing from them reached the soldiers around him.
"That's right." "It's not because our superior told us — it's what we want to do."
"I feel like I'm only now understanding what the word 'pride' truly means."
Quietly, but certainly, the heat spread.
One soldier rose to his feet again, another charged toward a Monster, and those too wounded to fight began calling out words of encouragement toward Herk.
The swell was enormous, threatening to overturn the tide of the entire battlefield.
◆
Karma, it turned out, was not so soft that a single surprise attack would finish him off.
"Don't... underestimate me...!"
Half his body frozen solid — or, put another way, only stopped to that degree — Karma was bathed in stagnant magic power that was tantamount to deadly poison in his current state. Yet through sheer abnormal regenerative ability, he forcibly burned off the magic power to resist, and while retreating, unleashed magic blasts one after another with whatever power he still had left.
"Ngh — aagh—!"
Despite receiving a critical wound from his natural enemy and losing a great deal of his strength, the power of his magic remained off the charts. Spells more powerful than those of any Bloodline Magic user Herk had ever known came flying at him as if it were a joke.
Herk managed to endure using an **ancient magical tool**, but could barely manage to avoid fatal blows. On top of the attrition he couldn't block, the physical damage from overusing the **ancient magical tool** piled on — a double hell ravaging Herk's entire body.
"So... what... of it...!"
—All you had to do was endure it.
You cough up blood. Fighting hurts. He had known that since the day he was born, more than anyone else in the royal family.
But he had something he wanted to become, a result he wanted to achieve. So of course he'd keep going.
The opponent being stronger than him — that was nothing new. Feeling like there was no way to win — that was perfectly obvious. Everything going your way was a luxury someone like him could never hope for.
He knew that full well.
And yet he struggled. He would keep struggling, and even if the glory he desired remained out of reach, he had already decided he would press on until the very end.
In accordance with that will, he activated his magic once more to deliver the final blow—
"I know — your magic is slow!"
He dodged.
Even with his mobility drastically reduced, Herk's magic lacked both the power and speed to catch Karma. One more hit — and that one hit felt despairingly far beyond his meager strength. As Herk felt that keenly, Karma made his move to flee the area of effect entirely—
"Formula Replay — 'Great Serpent of White Calm.'"
A frost-white spell from an entirely different direction.
Moreover, it was the one spell that served as Karma's sole natural enemy. Karma dodged it by a hair's breadth, but that extra movement meant he still couldn't escape the range of Herk's magic.
There was only one person here who could pull that off.
"Ermes...!"
Drenched in wounds, yet with the same unwavering gleam in his jade-green eyes, locked onto his target — Karma spat the name with venom.
Herk understood that Ermes was the greatest architect of this situation, and turned a complicated gaze toward him—
"You don't look entirely satisfied. Victory handed to you on a silver platter still isn't enough, is that it?"
Ermes met that gaze and gave a wry smile.
"I actually find that sentiment quite admirable. But there is one thing I must say on that note."
He delivered it in plain words.
"Without your tenacity, this situation could never have come to be. That fact alone — surely you can acknowledge it. …For the sake of everyone behind you, as well."
Herk turned around.
There he saw a sight entirely different from when he had charged at Karma.
Countless soldiers had regained their morale, bravely engaging the Monsters. Those who couldn't fight were shouting with all their might, and many among them were calling out words of encouragement to him.
They probably didn't understand everything. But — spreading before them was the image of a man who had struggled to accomplish what he could, like Herk, and through whom they had placed their hope.
And he understood well enough that accepting that sight was the duty of royalty.
"My 'Great Serpent of White Calm' is effective against Karma as well, but ultimately your magic has the greatest potential to deal a fatal blow. That is why I guided his evolution in that direction."
While parrying Karma's offensive — who had decided to break through from the wounded side and was firing spells at Ermes — Ermes continued.
"So I'll provide support. I'll create an opening while making absolutely certain he doesn't escape. You need to land one more spell on him. You absolutely can — there's one other person providing support as well."
"Herk!"
"What—!"
Herk's eyes went wide. A chill ran through Karma, and he leapt back.
An instant later, a ferocious sword flash tore through the space where Karma had just been standing.
"…I appreciate it, Karma. It's been a while since someone broke my dominant arm."
Equally battered, hanging one arm limp at his side just as described — yet harboring a fighting will even more fierce than usual, staring down Karma with blazing golden eyes.
It was Lucius.
"So, Your Highness. …Do you have anything left?"
"Even if it means shooting me along with him, please. I ask you to settle this battle with your own hands."
Ermes and Lucius.
From the two strongest individuals this country could arguably produce, he was being asked — with certainty — for his help.
A feeling hard to put into words churned inside Herk. But he swallowed it down, and did what a royal ought to do.
What he could say, though, was this:
That they were, beyond a shadow of a doubt, reliable.
"…Thank you, my vassals.
Don't let him escape. Not ever."
The words were unfamiliar on his lips, but the two men nodded without a moment's hesitation.
Together, the three of them moved to strike the killing blow against the monster.
Even without enough power, never giving in, pressing on toward hardship.
With that will and that noble heart, they rallied their comrades-in-arms and stood at the center of them all.
Drawing in destiny, turning the strongest present into allies, and deflecting a desperate adverse fate.
That was what they did — and that was what people called a hero.
And before long, the one who would truly inherit that name would challenge the battle that began it all—
The battle surged toward its final confrontation.