"Lord Himmel!"
"It's the Hero!"
"He really came! Lord Hero!"
A city wall of fortifications stretching for a thousand li—once the last pass between the Demon Race and the Southern Lands, the place where journeys set out. Like its countless bricks and tiles, this place carried far too many stories. For ages upon ages its vigil had stood unfaltering, and countless "Heroes" had set off from here toward that far-off, unreachable dream.
All life clings to a greater, more powerful existence, yet to be able to extend a helping hand to the weak and to strangers met by mere chance—kindness and courage, simple and forthright—that was the Hero, Himmel.
"Ahaha, everyone, it's been a long time."
An enthusiastic, hearty voice, carrying a gentle smile; his sky-blue short hair, embracing as the heavens, fluttered, and the little jet-black beauty mark at the corner of his eye, far from marring his good looks, made him appear even more dashing. The same blue-and-white robes and pure-white cloak as ever, the holy sword that had slain the Demon King slung at his waist, his stride confident and natural—Himmel the Hero, the man who had forged a legend, lightly waved his arm in greeting to everyone.
He was already nearing forty, but apart from his face having grown a touch rounder, he hadn't changed much from when he returned after the subjugation of the Demon King.
Walking up onto the city wall and seeing everyone's reactions, Himmel was quite satisfied with the appearance he had so carefully groomed before heading out.
"So you've come."
"Heiter."
Seeing that the tall Heiter already had a few strands of graying hair, Himmel teased with a smile.
"Did you go and sneak off drinking and get hungover again? Your hair's gone all white."
"Honestly, even at a time like this you've still got to crack jokes at me. I'm a monk, you know—I might just outlive you."
Heiter couldn't hold back and shot a retort right back.
"Is that so? Ahahaha."
Without the slightest tension of an oncoming army, the two of them chatted away just like this.
"Eisen's back at his hometown, and Frieren's still off traveling. Looks like it's just the two of us today."
"Yeah. It'll work out—because we're here."
Himmel patted Heiter on the shoulder, meaning to set him at ease, then turned and asked, "By the way, has all that business with the Goddess's Order been taken care of?"
"Not at all. More importantly than that—here they come."
"Thud!" "Thud!" "Thud!"
Said to be footsteps, yet far too immense—though not as violent as an earthquake.
Banner after crimson banner arrayed in neat rows, pair after pair of bloodshot eyes, sturdy steeds and iron helms, blades and spears, swords and halberds—a column drenched and stained in red, coming with terror and war.
"So that's the Hero? He looks younger than I imagined."
The forty-four-year-old Anhadī III grinned, two great swords slung across his back as he rode at the very front of the column. Brawny, exposed muscle, a towering frame of nearly two meters, paired with a rugged, ferocious countenance—as though he and the gentle, moonlight-like Himmel were two opposite extremes.
"Eh~ this is the first time I've seen a King who takes to the battlefield in person."
Himmel's expression gradually turned serious. With his rich experience battling powerful members of the Demon Race, and his instincts as a warrior—even across a certain distance, he could keenly sense it: strength, just like facing a formidable Great Demon!
The dreadful killing intent and the magnificent military momentum that carried over from afar made the soldiers watching from atop the wall feel their eyes go dry; unconsciously they gripped the weapons in their hands tighter. Some drew a deep breath, closed their eyes, then opened them again; some secretly stole glances at the Hero's movements; and some trembled all over, muttering to themselves.
The smoke of battle, ready to ignite at a touch, smoldered quietly in the dark.
Heiter sighed inwardly—humans warring against humans was, to some degree, sorrowful and helpless; yet for the peace of the Holy Capital, he had to stand here.
Beside him, Himmel's expression was resolute. Though he still harbored hopes of communication in his heart, since he had appeared here, he had already made up his mind.
The red King, the blue Hero.
Though they stood not far apart, it was as if a great chasm lay between them.
"Why do you stand in our way?"
The attacking army suddenly halted just beyond the range of the archers' bows, and from the front came Anhadī III's resounding voice.
"Everyone has been seeking my help, so I came here."
Himmel's expression was calm, his voice no weaker than Anhadī III's.
"Hahahaha! Then surrender to us! I promise I won't harm any innocent people!" His words carried a half-threatening edge.
"No! I'd still ask that you leave!" Himmel voiced the choice and the plea of the people of this land.
"So then, if I insist on attacking, will you use that 'holy sword' that slew the Demon King to cut down humans?"
Anhadī III's originally cheerful expression began to darken.
"No! I'll send every one of you flying." Atop the wall, Himmel smiled gently.
"Ahahahaha, ahahaha! Marvelous! As I thought, this trip wasn't wasted! Himmel the Hero, you truly are something!"
The King of War was not angered by his opponent's refusal—on the contrary, he was greatly pleased.
"Then let's make it next time. I'll conquer the entire Northern and Central Lands! And when that day comes, you'll agree to my terms! No—you'll have no choice but to surrender to me!"
To the surprise of everyone present, the war that would not stop—Anhadī III actually chose to turn his spearhead around, launching a challenge against the Northern Empire, which, though not as rich as the southern kingdoms, was even mightier in military strength.
"The finest course should be saved for last—that's when it tastes most delicious—and my knife and fork will be honed all the sharper through war."
Anhadī III made an interesting metaphor for the choice he had made today.
Like waking from a dream, the army that had been so menacing receded like a tide. The vast majority let out a breath of relief, and only when they came back to themselves did they realize that sweat had already soaked through their undershirts, their mouths inexplicably dry.
"Himmel, what do you make of it?" The tightly-strung Heiter slackened all at once, taking on a bit of his usual slovenly, devil-may-care manner again.
"I have no idea!" The answer was utterly sincere.
"Hey, aren't you going to go stop him?"
"Probably no need to worry."
"Why?"
"Intuition." "What kind of answer is that?!"
Already, the Goddess's Order had suddenly stirred up an internal schism over these past years, which had left Heiter speechless enough; before his investigation was even complete, he—being a bishop—had been summoned by that stingy King to come here and help quell the war.
He had reached out everywhere to the comrades in his party, and Himmel was the only one still left in the Holy Capital.
Casting aside a great heap of church affairs, coming here and making all these preparations, only to get a single "never mind, no fighting"?!
"Haah, I'm exhausted... I could really use a drink." Heiter crouched down clutching his own head, feeling like he was about to burst into tears.
"You really haven't changed one bit, you wine-and-meat monk." Sheathing the treasured sword he had drawn just a sliver, Himmel patted him on the shoulder in consolation. "Want me to pat your head, just like the way you used to pat Frieren's head back then?"
"Get away from me already!"
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