Attacked by an Apostle, and then, following another Apostle’s Prophecy, the Selection of the Hero began.
By noon, the dark clouds over the imperial capital of the Gald Empire finally dispersed.
Sunlight shone upon the Holy Sword.
There was not a speck of rust on the blade; it still held a divine glow.
The entire city received the news.
Anyone could try to pull out the Holy Sword.
Whoever succeeded would become the Hero of the nation.
The old Sword Saint was present, draped in a black cloak.
His aged yet powerful hands stood firm at his side.
He stood to one side, watching.
On the platform were the Pope and the Emperor, watching from afar.
All three sides had completed their negotiations—the Hero’s party would include their chosen members, since only the best Priests and High Priests came from the Church.
Akae and the others hadn’t left yet.
Because the guards had almost spread the news throughout the entire capital.
Every citizen of the nation could attempt to pull the sword.
If everyone in the capital had tried and failed, the sword would be taken to another city for others to try.
“Sir, can we really attempt to pull out this sword? This sword looks so…”
The person asking trailed off, words failing.
He simply stared at the shining sword as if it were a gift from the gods, not knowing how to describe it.
“Everyone can try, because I believe the hero will rise from among you. There’s no need to hope for the resurrection of ancient heroes!”
Eugene the Sword Saint was the first to step before the Holy Sword.
He once again used all his strength to pull out the sword—but failed.
Then he shouted to those below:
“You! Come up. I failed. Young people, the hero may be among you! If you want to try, line up!”
His powerful words quickly set the crowd’s hearts ablaze.
At first, no one dared to step forward, but after one civilian tried, the tension broke and nothing held them back anymore.
Failure brought no punishment.
But if one succeeded, they would become the Hero of the nation, its champion.
“Chocolee! Let’s get in line too!”
Akae’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the Holy Sword.
He imagined himself pulling the sword free, becoming the Hero, defeating the Demon King, and becoming the nation’s champion.
“No, I don’t want to be any kind of hero. People really die on the battlefield.”
Chocolee shook his head, wanting to leave.
“Then I’ll go with Akae.”
Lily was also filled with curiosity, gazing at the sword on the platform.
Everyone in line was full of wonder.
This sword was something they’d only heard about from bards, but now it was right before their eyes—they even had a chance to touch it.
The line grew longer and longer.
Yet after many tried, no matter how much strength they used, even the strongest knights nearly lifted the Stone itself before giving up.
It was not the people choosing the Holy Sword, but the Holy Sword choosing its master.
Finally, it was Akae’s turn.
He nervously climbed onto the platform, almost tripping, and didn’t dare look up at the old Sword Saint.
Laughter filled the air below.
Many adults watched the brash little brat.
“Brat! Hurry home!”
“Haha, with those scrawny arms and legs, can you even pull out the sword?”
Amidst the mockery, Akae nearly wanted to flee.
But he thought of how, having already come up, running away would only lead to Mel and the others teasing him later.
His gaze grew determined.
He had one thought—I’ll try!
The child, barely taller than the Holy Sword, reached out.
In an instant, he yanked the sword from the Stone, tumbling to the ground with it.
The Holy Sword came free, wobbling and crashing onto the floor.
Akae’s heart pounded in panic.
The crowd below fell into stunned silence.
The sword had been pulled out?
Was this brat the Hero?
After a brief moment of shock, Lily below shouted joyfully:
“Akae, you’re the Hero!”
“So fast? We’ve already found the Hero? This has to be fake!”
Of course, some citizens doubted the authenticity of the Selection of the Hero.
What was even harder to accept was that a child who didn’t appear noble at all had become the Hero.
If Akae had been born into a noble family, they might have accepted it.
They questioned it, but it was meaningless.
Everyone in the Knight Order knew the truth—this child was the true Hero, since not even a single imperial knight had managed to pull the sword free.
The sound of blades being drawn rang out.
The knights drove back the restless crowd, forming a barrier between Akae and the masses.
“All step back! The Selection of the Hero is over!”
The old Sword Saint looked at the nervous child before him as if he’d found hope.
He seemed about six or seven years old.
To gain enough strength to fight, it might still take ten more years.
Time truly waits for no one.
“Child, what is your name?”
“My name is Akae.”
“I am Eugene, Chief Swordsman of the Empire. Would you become my disciple? Child, you are the Hero chosen by the Holy Sword. I will teach you everything I know!”
“I…I…”
Akae hesitated, glancing back at Lily.
He had friends.
He wanted to be the Hero but didn’t want to lose his friends.
Even if their status changed, he understood that the underworld was no place for anyone to live.
At that moment, a Nun from the Church stepped forward.
“I can take this child into the Church to study. You don’t need to worry. Judging by your appearance, you must be an orphan, right?”
“Mm.”
Akae nodded, not refusing, though his expression was conflicted.
“Do you have other friends you’re worried about?”
The old Sword Saint saw the child’s concerns and patiently asked.
“Yes, there’s someone named Mel, and another called Chocolee. We’re all orphans from the underworld of the capital. I want to leave with them! Sir, if possible…”
“I agree.”
“Then, will you become the disciple of the Sword Saint of the Empire?”
“Yes, I will! Lord Eugene!”
Akae nodded solemnly.
He had little to lose, and if he wanted to avenge his family, there was no better path than becoming a Hero.
“Call me Master. Now, take me to your friends so I can see if they’re willing to join the Knight Order.”
The old Sword Saint signaled Akae to lead him to his friends.
If he wanted to teach his disciple well, he had to let him put his worries to rest and devote himself to training—only then could he grow stronger, faster.
The old Nun gently stroked the girl’s head.
“Little one, would you mind telling me your name?”
“Lily.”
The girl answered softly.
“Lily—a name as pure as a lily flower. I think your parents must have loved you very much.”
“Yes, my parents loved me very much. But they were killed by demons.”
Lily looked up at the Nun before her.
“Do you not have a surname? If not, you can use mine—Crabel.”
“Thank you. I have no surname. Like Akae, I come from outside the borders.”
Lily did not refuse, and mentioned Akae.
“Don’t worry, Lily. You don’t have to mention that brat deliberately. He is the Hero. If nothing unexpected happens, he will inherit everything from Eugene.”
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