The lips of Fialaert-La-Borgograd swayed gently in front of my eyes. Her words are soft and almost graceful. A light green light flashed across her skin.

I'm just sucking up the magic that's been building up. That's all. There's nothing to be afraid of.

　Her shoulders swayed and her lustrous black hair melted into the darkness. The expression on her face could be called joy or ecstasy. The atmosphere was so different from when we had met in the parlor. For a moment, I almost wondered if it was really the same person.

　Alueno's golden eyes widened. His lips quivered as if he was searching for something. For a moment, I'm not sure what I should say.

"Mr. Fialaert, what the ...... hell are you doing, or why are you doing this?

　He asked, breathing slightly hard, but never taking his eyes off the being in front of him. In the meantime, Alueno's skin feels like it's slowly drying up, and his cranium is giving off a strange heat. It's a feeling I've never felt before in all my life. What the hell is this?

　Now Phialat said it was sucking up magic power. What exactly that means is beyond Alueno's comprehension. But if you take his words at face value. This feeling, this fear of having one's spirit ripped out of one's body, does that mean that she is taking away one's magic power? Is such a thing really possible? Alueno's eyebrows twisted and his brain churned with questions.

　As if to cut through the doubts, Fialaert's black eyes wavered. As soon as he made eye contact with Alueno, he announced, "Saint Alueno.

"Saint Alueno. What do you think a hero is?

　These were words that did not respond to my question at all, words that were too abrupt.

　However, from the sound of her voice, she did not seem to have any intention of ignoring us. It was as if it was natural for Fialaert to ask such a question.

　Alueno's lips rippled in confusion, and his golden eyes twisted.

　In the meantime, Mordor, who was standing in front of him, took a step forward with his axe at the ready. The squire followed his master, spear at the ready. He looks as if he understands the presence in front of him as a threat itself. You can see the slightest hint of fear in his legs. But Fialaert was unmoved by their movements, and seemed to be waiting for Alueno's words.

　What is a hero? It's an abstract question. Some would say that it is the one who leads all people, while others would define it as the one who changes history or brings victory. There is never a definitive answer. What exactly is she looking for?

　Without waiting for Alueno's response, Fialat continued to speak. In the darkness, only his voice shook the air.

I'm sorry, but I'm not listening. The point is, what makes a mere man a hero?

　As usual, Alueno could not understand what Fialaert was trying to say. But there was a flicker of something in his wavering lips, in his black eyes, and in the light green luminescence that flooded his body.

　Alueno heard his own back teeth quivering, unconsciously.

　The tone of Fialaert's voice was still somewhat gentle and soft. But this question was filled with a heavy, heavy emotion that did not fit such a tone. That's what Alueno felt. His fingertips were so cold that they almost froze.

　Desperately searching for words, Alueno opened his lips. He could feel the magic stirring within him.

"I don't know what you mean by ...... question. If I had to answer, I'd say natural talent, the tides of history, and the favor of the gods.

　Of course, that's not all. Of course, there are all kinds of other factors that go into being a hero.

　But I would venture to say that these are the most important. Without a natural gift, man cannot take up the pen of history. If the tide of history is not on his back, he cannot change it. And without the favor of God, he cannot become a hero. A mere man cannot become a hero.

　Therefore, if you dare to ask what makes a hero a hero, I will tell you.

　I'll take your word for it. Fialaert's lips quivered as if she were chirping. A small voice. It was a small voice that could have been lost in the darkness.

　--That's what you call luck, right?

　At that moment, a shiver ran down Alueno's spine. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


　◇◇◆


　I'm not sure if you've heard of it or not, but I have. It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're looking for.

　What makes a hero a hero. A gift, the tide of history, the favor of God. Well, there's no mistaking it. These are the things that are essential to capture the name of hero. It is necessary for a mere mortal being to be able to hold the thread of history.



　So, what determines whether you can grab them or not? Is it unremitting effort? Or a flood of wisdom? Or is it the experience of biting the bitterness with your teeth?

　No, it's not. No, it's not. Whether or not you can seize them is, in the end, whether or not you are lucky.

　At least that's what Fialaat understands, and he's convinced it's the undeniable truth. And that truth is kind of--silly. Oh, so much for trivial. In the depths of Fialat's dark eyes, a flame of emotion burns.

　Without natural talent, no matter how hard you work, no matter how much you suffer, no matter how much you burn your bowels, you will never become a hero.

　Without the support of the tide of history, no matter how many blessings you receive, you will not be able to hold glory in your hands.

　And without God's favor, no matter how much talent and glory you have in your body, you will not live a happy life.

　Oh, in other words, without good fortune, one cannot become a hero, cannot hold glory, and cannot live a life of happiness.

　What a comedy. The being who wrote the script must be insane. If he was sane enough to write such a comedy, he must be twisted beyond belief.

　Is that all humans are? Or is that all there is to life, not just for humans? Is it just a miserable life of praying for good luck, for God's grace and salvation? Does fate tell us that it doesn't matter how we live, everything is determined by how we are born?

　 Everyone will shout, as they once did, as if to wring it out of their dry throats. As the poor ask for gold, as everyone in the desert asks for water, as the less fortunate ask for a drop of grace. Say this.

　--I wish for happiness in my hands.