More than 200 years ago, before even the creation of the Re-Estize Kingdom, monsters known as the Demon Gods appeared in the world.
They were evil and incredibly powerful, quickly destroying many countries in their quest to kill all living beings in the world.
But just as it seemed like all hope was lost, a group of 13 individuals appeared.
Hailing from different countries and from different races, these 13 powerful individuals fought together to defeat the Demon Gods and save the world.
Or so the Legend of the 13 Heroes told, a story that was incredibly popular among children of the Re-Estize Kingdom.
It wasn't uncommon for children to dream of becoming heroes themselves.
They would play pretend with each other, taking turns being the Demon Gods or the Heroes, but the heroes would always win, for this is what happened in the legend.
As they grew into adults, most of these children would give up on this dream and focus on more reasonable goals, but some would never forget it, going on to become adventurers.
And Igvarge was no different.
Born in a village, he dreamed of being a hero, not to save the world but to become rich and receive the people's adulation.
But life wasn't so kind as to let him become one just because he wanted to.
He lived as a farmer for many years, to the point that he almost resigned himself to his reality, but, thankfully, a war broke out, and he was conscripted.
On the battlefield, he fought for his life, almost dying many times, and earning himself a big scar that covered most of his face.
So when an opportunity to desert the front came, he took it without hesitation, joining other deserters to form a mercenary corps that functioned more like a bandit group than anything else.
From there, he lived as a mercenary for a few years before the chance to be an adventurer was presented to him, and he accepted it with excitement.
His party wasn't anything great, but together they rose through the ranks until their party reached the Gold class.
He liked that party.
His seniors taught him well, and with his constant training, he could feel himself growing stronger day by day.
The money was stable, and they dared to dream of becoming famous one day, but fate had other plans for them.
One day, while they were completing a hunting job, they were ambushed by a Basilisk.
A Basilisk was something that only a Mythril party or above could reasonably face, and that was with sufficient preparations.
Igvarge saw that the Basilisk was already hurt, meaning it was weakened, but he didn't want to risk it, so he did exactly what he had done in the war and ran away, leaving his party behind before finding a place to hide.
The curses of his companions followed him, but he turned a deaf ear to them.
His life, he reasoned, was the most important thing for him, and besides, there was nothing he could do to help them at the time.
For hours, he stayed hidden before carefully returning to the battle scene.
He saw the petrified remains of his companions scattered on the ground, a testament to how fierce the battle had been.
But he also found an agonizing Basilisk barely hanging on for its life.
The sword of his leader had somehow pierced the creature's neck, and it had been blinded by arrows, no longer having its petrification gaze.
That day, he returned to E-Rantal carrying proof of having slain a Basilisk, and went on to tell the tale of how he had been abandoned by his party after they found the Basilisk, and how he had bravely fought the creature for hours before defeating it.
Some people doubted him, while others praised his courage, but with no one to refute him, his version became the truth.
For this feat, he was granted his Mythril plate, and using the money he looted from his dead party members in conjunction with his newfound fame, he established his new party, Kalgra, which went on to become one of the top parties in E-Rantal.
From this experience, Igvarge learned how important it was to manage his reputation.
He never forgot his goal of becoming a hero, but even he knew that his talent could not take him to that level.
As the years passed, he found it harder and harder to progress in his training.
A wall was blocking his progress, and there was not much he could do about it.
He was already approaching his mid-thirties, so any potential he might have had had already been used a long time ago.
Knowing this, he shifted his focus to increasing his reputation as much as possible.
He would select jobs that seemed difficult and complete them at any cost before fabricating evidence for a tale that put him and his party in a good light.
After a few years, his name had grown notorious in the city.
He was now one of the top adventurers in E-Rantal, leading one of only 3 Mytril ranked parties.
Nobles constantly invited him to parties, and despite his ugliness, there was no shortage of women who wanted his attention.
He might not have become a hero, but he was very satisfied with the way his life turned out, and he could even see himself retiring in a few years, maybe marrying a beautiful woman half his age and starting a family.
With such a mindset, he was drinking with his buddies when he heard an outrageous claim and laughed out loud.
As something of an expert in twisting narratives, he found the claim that a man had slain a lot of ogres with ease, going so far as bisecting them in seconds, quite ridiculous.
If it were the Warrior Captain, he might have accepted it as a somewhat exaggerated story, but a nameless warrior? No way.
To boast, he thought, you still needed to work within the confines of reality.
He had seen many such cases through the years. Amateurs who tried to boost their reputation without doing the work to make it seem real.
As the expert, he quickly called out the newbie, showing how easily someone could make outrageous, unsubstantiated claims, and, in his own twisted way, he thought he was helping the man by saying those things.
But the other man refused to back down, going so far as to refute him.
Igvarge knew that if he let it go, his reputation would suffer, so he quickly got up and went to their table.
If the person were a high-ranking adventurer, he would have let it go, but only found a silver plate, and he grew furious.
To be mocked by a silver plate was something he couldn't allow, so Igvarge even threatened the man, which finally silenced him.
What he didn't expect was that immediately after, the friend mentioned by the silver plate would challenge his party to a duel.
"Leader, do you think this is a good idea?" Erdam, the warrior of the party, asked him as soon as they left the inn.
He knew what he meant. If they, a Mythril-ranked party, fought a lowly copper plate, people could say that they were hazing newbies or bullying the weak.
"He was the one who asked for it, and it would be worse if we backed out."
He looked at the circle of people that was forming around them on the street.
"Let's just finish this quickly, so no one can find fault with us."
"And what if he is really that powerful?" Ban, the wizard of their party, spoke up.
"Humph. How powerful could he be? Have you ever heard of someone called Momon before? Don't let his equipment fool you. I bet he is just a pampered noble who never faced someone strong before, and thinks he is invincible because of that." He sneered through his words.
As a commoner, he had a healthy disdain for nobles, and he particularly despised the pretentious nobles who tried to be adventurers.
Although the leaders of Blue Rose and Red Drop are nobles, they are a special case.
Igvarge wasn't delusional to the point of believing that he had the right to question Adamantite-class adventurers.
He knew his place.
"What is he doing?" Bronrod, their monk, suddenly yelled.
"What is going on?" Igvarge turned to where Bronrod was looking and saw that Momon had grabbed a twig from a nearby tree and was now gently swinging it.
"What are you doing?" He asked the man.
Did he go crazy from fear?
"Oh, this? I just think that this will be a nice weapon for our fight, think nothing of it." The man spoke apologetically.
Did he really go crazy?
"Erdam, go deal with him." It would be embarrassing if all of them went to fight a crazy man together.
Their warrior would be more than enough to deal with him.
"Okay," Erdam answered and grabbed his two-handed hammer before walking towards Momon.
Erdam was a big man, standing over 2,10 meters tall and with a muscular physique, he seemed like an archetypical warrior.
Igvarge had chosen him in no small part for the advertising potential.
Erdam looked intimidating and capable, imposing respect on anyone who stood in front of him.
Momon, in his black armor, seemed like a child when in front of this gigantic man.
"Don't blame me for this young man." Erdam lifted his great hammer and, with a big swing, aimed at Momon's chest.
BAM!
A loud noise ensued, and Igvarge feared that Erdam had killed the man.
Hurting or incapacitating Momon would be fine, but if they actually killed him, there would be problems with the authorities, and their party's reputation would fall.
"Wow!"
"Incredible!"
Different from what he expected, cheers of excitement came from the audience.
And as he looked at the two fighters, he was surprised as well.
Momon had his right hand stretched out, and he was holding Erdam's hammer, with no signs of damage to him or his armor.
Erdam looked at Momon in surprise, but his experience quickly kicked in, and he pulled his hammer, but nothing happened.
"Hey, Erdam, stop playing around," Bronrod yelled from the side, but Igvarge, as a ranger, could see it clearly.
He is not playing.
Erdam's face was red, and the veins on his arms pulsated as he tried and failed to free his hammer from Momon's hand.
"UGHH!" With a great shout, Erdam pulled with all his strength and fell to the ground with his hammer.
His palms were bloody, and he seemed confused by his sudden success.
"Sorry about letting go so suddenly; it's just that I didn't expect a mighty warrior from a Mythril party to be so… weak. I'll try to calibrate my strength to your standards from now on."
Momon's tone was polite, but his words were filled with mockery.
Igvarge had a bad feeling about this.
Maybe he is the real deal.
"In formation, now!" He yelled at his party and quickly pulled his bow and shot an arrow towards Momon's head.
Gone were his reservations about the consequences.
They needed to take this man down, and fast.
Momon looked at his arrow and simply moved his head to the side, easily dodging it.
"Ouch!" His arrow hit a random adventurer in the audience, and Momon turned to see who it was.
Got you!
"Now!"
His party members quickly moved towards Momon.
"[Ability Boost], [Heavy Blow]!"
BAM!
Erdam brought his hammer down on Momon's back after activating his martial arts.
"Hup!" Bronrod activated his skill [Iron Skin] and delivered a kick at Momon's legs, intending to knock him down.
"[Fire Ball]!"
To his side, Ban finished casting his strongest spell, unleashing the ball of fire in Momon's direction.
Igvarge knocked another arrow on his bow.
This was a tactic they used often when dealing with humanoid enemies.
In this way, the enemy would be disoriented by the blows and on their last legs, ready for him to finish them off.
At least, that is what was supposed to happen.
Crack!
Erdam's hammer cracked after coming in contact with Momon's back.
"Arghh!" Bronrod held his leg in great pain after kicking Momon, who didn't even pay attention to them, only looking at the [Fireball] coming in his direction.
Momon then held the branch in his two hands, raising it up, before bringing it down in a clear slashing motion.
The [Fireball] was cut in half, dissolving before it could explode on anyone.
Silence befell the audience as they all looked at the impossible scene in front of them.
To cut a 3rd tier spell using a common branch should be something impossible, so how did Momon do it so easily?
"Ow, now it's destroyed." Oblivious to how they felt, Momon lamented as he watched the branch burn on his hand.
"Well, it's time to end this anyway." Momon threw the branch to the ground and looked at the members of Karlgra.
"Do you still want to fight?" He asked lightly.
"N-No!"
"No!"
"Please spare me."
His companions quickly gave up.
"Then move," Momon said dismissively.
Seeing his opportunity, Igvarge also began to move away.
He had no intention of fighting this monster anymore.
But Momon had other plans.
"What are you doing, brave and mighty Igvarge? You're not seriously running from a fight you started, right? Even more, one against a boastful newbie, am I right?"
As expected.
"Do we really need to do this?" He tried one last time.
"What do you think?" But there wasn't really a way out of this.
Sigh, I really ran against a wall this time.
Igvarge dropped his bow; it wouldn't help in this fight.
He unsheathed his sword and looked at the man in front of him.
He really does look like one, doesn't he?
He ran towards Momon with his sword in hand and slashed at his shoulder.
But Momon didn't move, allowing him to hit his shoulder with all his might,
Igvarge felt a dull pain in his bones from the impact, but ignored it and continued to slash at the enemy in front of him.
Seconds turned to minutes as he continued to slash at Momon, who refused to react, letting him do as he pleased.
The air felt hot in his lungs, but his movements didn't slow down.
He understood that this was a humiliation ritual, intended to show him his place, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Ding!
Finally, his sword broke, and he fell to the ground on his knees.
He breathed heavily, feeling a hot, dull pain in his arms.
His chest hurt, but his head was surprisingly clear even in this circumstance.
He raised his eyes, seeing that Momon hadn't moved from his spot, and his armor retained the same pristine shine it had before the fight.
"Do you still think that Ninya was boasting?"
Momon asked, looking down at him.
"No. I'm sorry."
The words came out naturally.
He thought he would feel humiliated at this point, but he was surprisingly calm.
"Good." Momon then turned around to go back into the inn.
As he watched his figure, Igvarge couldn't help but remember the Legend of the 13 heroes he had heard as a child.
Then he passed out.