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But even among them, Agnes was exceptional.

Born as the second daughter of the former King, Voler Gliese Lumiere, she had seven siblings: four above her and three below. The royal family was reasonably peaceful, led by the crown prince, Edvard Blanche Lumiere. This was because his qualities were by no means inferior to the ones after him, and his temperament was close to that of a saint. Edvard treated his younger siblings with recognition, and they outwardly honored and respected him.

Even though they were born in different ships, the siblings believed that the firstborn, who held the birthright, would become the King; therefore, the remaining seven abandoned their desire for the throne early on. If the next King’s place on the throne was secure, it was best to look good and preserve the status quo rather than rebel against it and be hated. Voler Lumiere’s succession seemed to be going smoothly, and the royal family was confident that no blood would be shed.

Then, in the fall, Edvard, destined to be crown prince, fell ill and died. Agnes was about to turn fifteen.

The royal family was tense. The jockeying began with the death of the prince who was supposed to succeed him. Even the Interior Minister at the time joined the battle, and the King half-gave up trying to stop him. The one who should sit on the throne would be the strongest. Whoever survives this quarrel will be allowed to take it, provided they do not cross the line.

A bloodbath raged in the palace.

The aristocratic factions the royal family was supposed to keep in check fell apart as they squabbled over succession. Or crossed the line and received the King’s sword.

The first to be eliminated was the Fourth and Third Children, whose entire family fell with them and was removed from the battle. Next came the Second, who was poisoned, then the Seventh, who was stabbed. The Sixth hung himself, and the Seventh ran to the nation’s fringes.

“…can’t be…. you, you….”

These were the words of the Second Prince before he died. The Fifth child, Agnes Blanche Lumiere, watched her brother close his eyes to the end. She was the last one left, eighteen years old, just coming of age. She quickly overpowered all her brothers and became the heir apparent. Agnes announced her brothers’ deaths at Edvard’s grave. The King closed his eyes. Blood upon blood. Agnes became an object of reverence and fear.

And so she became Queen. She didn’t want to be Queen; she knew she couldn’t let anyone else take her dead brother’s place. It was heavy, lonely, and hard.

“I didn’t think it would only take one stroke of the sword.”

Agnes muttered to herself as she stared at the halved creature. It rolled on the ground, dripping with thick, slimy blood. The red trail left by Agnes’s aura thundered through the air. Her rose aura turned dark red, which resembled blood, roses, and rubies.

“Keep them at bay.”

Agnes said to the knights and raised her sword again. The monster let out a piercing wail as it was stuck, and the two halves fell to the ground. There was no fear or hesitation. Agnes fought, burning and hurling herself. The Queen was good, too good. That was her sin and her duty.

She swung her sword. Agnes tried to ignore the death beside her. A monarch should not be held back by the end of one of her own.

“Your Majesty, please….”

A knight fell. His armor had been torn from his body by the creature’s claws. Human blood gushed out. The knight turned to avoid getting blood on the Queen’s armor. Agnes stepped forward. Her aura spread before her like a net, catching every fly that dared to approach.

It was easy to slice through them. If there were tens of thousands of them, you just had to attack tens of thousands of times.

The cries of the enraged monsters echoed in unison. The mass disintegrated beneath the Queen’s sword, crumbling into tiny chunks. But all around her, the knights who followed her suffered the same fate. They were dismembered, mauled, and torn apart.

Agnes withdrew her eyes from the knights. They fought on, oblivious to her gaze on them. They were the best knights in the Kingdom. The remaining two would not fall so easily. Agnes believed in them and swung her sword.

Was this the fate of the Hero?

Then she remembered the first time they met.

***

“Your Majesty, what about the person who took the ‘Artifact.’”

It was nearing the end of a meeting no different from any other. Things had been turbulent around the Kingdom lately. The tension had been building as they tried to devise a solution. It was time for the Queen to call for their dismissal, and they would go home in threes and fours, breathing a sigh of relief.

“So that’s what happened.”

And then the atmosphere of the great assembly turned chilly again as someone brought up another agenda. “The artifact.” Namely, the Holy Sword. A sword that no one had been able to draw for a very long time. It had served its purpose in the war and has been embedded in the ground since.

“I assume you’ve been in contact with the officials of the Holy Land?”

“Yes…They reacted with great surprise and said they would immediately send an envoy to the royal palace. Of course, drawing the Holy Sword that hadn’t been moved in hundreds of years would be a surprise…”

At the report, Agnes’ eyes narrowed.

“Were you able to find the person? I assume you have some idea of what he’s like.”

“Yes. We’re holding him at a military checkpoint for now. He hasn’t committed any crimes, so it’s difficult to keep him in jail… but fortunately, he’s been cooperating with our investigation.”

It would have been easy to do so, but Agnes chose not to.

“Very well, report what you have learned so far.”

“His name is Elroy. He doesn’t seem to have a family or last name, makes his living as an adventurer in the Kingdom, has no criminal record, isn’t a household name, and his skills seem average.”

“No last name.”

At Agnes’s murmur, the reporting noble nodded.

“Yes. It’s not common, but it still happens to a few unfortunate people.”

“…I see.”

“Yes. Then how would Your Majesty dispose of that person? Historically, there is a legend that a person who draws the Holy Sword will become the Hero who will save the world… but… Saving the world also means putting it in danger, right?”

The noble said in a concerned voice.

“Of course, it’s just a legend and a story… that can be dismissed as mere rumors, but I’m afraid that the current signs across the continent are alarming.”

“…I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Agnes said with a grunt. The courtiers murmured, each throwing in a word or two.

“Your Majesty, he’s just a commoner. Drawing a sword does not change one’s birth. Your Majesty, please reconsider.”

“Make a better argument. To say that one’s birth is lowly, that one’s status is lowly is the kind of talk that belongs to old men who rot in alcoves.”

The Queen’s words were cold. The nobles, who had opened their mouths to flatter her, withdrew their tails and stepped back.

“Show me the way. I’m going to see him now.”

The nobles murmured in panic. Only the one with the report nodded calmly and stepped forward to escort Agnes.

A Hero to save the world.

The words were unfamiliar. Heroes didn’t exist. They were more likely to be created by accident. No one is a Hero from the start. If there were, they would be crushed under the weight of the pressure, their bones ground to dust. A King benefits from the burden they carry, but the Hero has only his reputation. His deeds are never justly rewarded: a medal on his chest and a few pennies.

That’s why they’re called Heroes.

“This way, Your Majesty.”

The carriage drove the short distance to the barracks. This was not an official visit but a covert one. No one knew of Agnes’ arrival except the commander.

“I’ve been keeping a close eye on him. I’ll answer any question you have.”

The noble’s voice was shaky. Agnes didn’t respond to his ramblings but walked inside.

“He’s waiting in that room right now.”

The on-duty commander’s voice came from behind her, and before his words could fully reach Agnes, her hand turned the doorknob. A man with ash-colored hair sat on a chair with a sword in his hand in a room with a simple desk and chair.

“Are you Elroy?”

The man called Elroy raised his head, and Agnes looked into his endlessly empty turquoise eyes and remembered the words of the noble.

This is the Hero who will save the world.

In Agnes’ eyes, Elroy was the one who needed salvation.

***

“How ridiculous.”

Agnes muttered as she slashed another monster.

“I thought I had a heavy responsibility.”

The monster corpses piled up. Agnes and the two knights stood unharmed as another wave approached them. The creature in the lead growled out.

“You are in the way. Die.”

Agnes looked at the fearsome creature and spoke to herself.

“But that is nothing compared to the responsibility you have taken upon yourself.”

No more knights had to die. Agnes lunged forward before her escorts could react. The monster roared and tried to match her blade. Her sword did not allow it to counterattack. The crimson aura sliced the opponent’s arm.

Agnes’ movements became much faster, matching the monster’s.

“So you’re the Hero they said you were!”

It was clearly mistaken, but Agnes did not correct it. She only swung her sword faster and harder. Its shoulder was cut off, and the head soon followed after. As if that wasn’t enough, Agnes’ sword moved on to the next, its blood splattering and soaking the ground.

“I appreciate the compliment.”

She didn’t know if it was pity or sympathy that she felt for the Hero; it was a great contradiction that someone who didn’t even seem to know what salvation was became destined to save the world.

“Die!”

She dodged a claw that slashed down from above. It was a waste not to avoid an avoidable attack. Parry the ones that will hit, and block those that you couldn’t parry. If you can’t do that, you will die. That’s the basics of combat.

A direct hit. Without hesitation, Agnes snapped the head of an ashen bear in two. A wolf’s head was next. Like a whirlwind in a cornfield, nothing remained of Agnes’ surroundings. The more she swung her sword, the more blood filled the air.

Her sword couldn’t be stopped.

“You…bitch!”

Agnes laughed as one of the monsters was decapitated. Her smile, drenched in the creature’s blood, was eerie.

“I’ll be more than happy to fight you.”

Agnes said, her voice rising with pleasure. The monsters dutifully fulfilled her request. More, more, and more. The number rushing toward her continued to grow. She swung her sword and swung again. The few creatures who slipped through her aura were sliced by the knights behind her.

“Kill, kill, kill, there is no end.”

Agnes’ body was thrown back by a monster’s reckless charge. One of the remaining knights lost his life trying to protect her as she rolled across the ground. The last remaining knight desperately tried to lift Agnes to her feet and lead her back into the castle. She stared at the infernal landscape beyond her blurred vision.

“I will stay. You shall go back.”

“I can’t allow that, Your Majesty.”

Agnes stamped her feet and tried to stay on the battlefield, but she also realized that further struggle would be futile. She could hear the soldiers on the ramparts busy shouting something.

“I must defend the castle. If I go back, the gates will fall.”

“It will not collapse, Your Majesty. The soldiers are still standing strong. Even if you retreat now, the gates will not fall.”

“You lie. Thousands more soldiers will have to bleed and die for that to happen.”

Agnes said, struggling to stand.

“Even so, it is the responsibility of the monarch to preserve her body. The Queen has to lead her troops to the end and win this war, no matter the cost.”

“What is duty and responsibility? Do you think defending this castle with the blood of thousands of my people is a true victory?”

“Yes. As long as you see the end, it will be our victory.”

“Don’t you see that that is the excuse of those trying to save their damned lives!”

Agnes shouted, trying to shake off the hand. The knight struggled and grabbed her, trying to pull her back.

“Let go.”

“I won’t until you are safe.”

Amid the scuffle, another wave of monsters approached. Agnes stared at it, dumbfounded. They were indeed like the ocean. A sea where once you’ve been caught by a wave, there’s always a new one coming. Her hand clutched desperately at her sword, and the knight’s grip loosened.

“…They’re afraid.”

They seemed to be being chased by something. The waves of monsters gathered together, forming a mass, and then charged off toward somewhere else.

“That’s….”

Then, the waves parted.

The ocean was split, and a piercing blue light flashed through the sky.

“How did they get here….”

And just behind that blue light,

The flag of Evernode flew high.

“Who are we!”

The chant echoed across the battlefield, cutting through the demonic roar.

“Warriors of the North!”

And as one, tens of thousands of the North’s elite answered the question.

“What is our mission!”

“To defend this country!”

The sound of the troops rallying struck a chord. Agnes stared dumbfounded at the army on the hill.

“I have come to repay you for the favor you have shown me, Hero Elroy.”

Quenor Stroff thrust his sword forward, and the northern blizzard began to swallow the demonic black tide.