Chapter 65: The Job Called "Hero"
Three days after setting off again from Bracada, Ethan finally caught sight of a Wyvern once more. He shouted and waved his hands to signal.
The Wyvern circled above his head for quite a while as its Orc rider debated whether to fly down and check on this human who dared to greet them from below. After talking to the Half-Orc scout for some time, Ethan finally climbed onto the Wyvern and returned to Oufu.
He went to the City Hall to find Sedros, threw the emperor’s peace agreement at him, and sighed, “I don’t even understand why something that anyone could do was said to be ‘only for me.’ They even prepared a whole group of attendants for me—I barely managed to turn them down. If I hadn’t, I’d still be trundling along with them in the wilderness, which would have been such a hassle.”
Sedros smiled, opened the agreement, and said, “Actually, for such a major matter, your emperor should have come to sign it with me in person. But he’s just a child; decisions like signing agreements are all made by his ministers. There’s no need for him to go through the motions. That’s why I told the envoys I sent that there was no need for him to make the long trip—sending an envoy would be enough. This was intentionally left as an opportunity for you. Bishop Ronis would naturally pass such an important task to you, one that lets you easily gain a great deal of political capital.”
Ethan let out a scoff. For others, this might have been a dream opportunity. Perhaps Bishop Ronis intended it as a grand thank-you gift, but Ethan himself had no interest at all.
Sedros carefully signed his name on the agreement and let out a contented sigh. The final step was finally done—even the wrinkles on his face seemed to fade a little. He said, “Now, an era of peace will begin. A new page in history will unfold today—the era when Orcs and humans coexist in peace, an era of development.”
Ethan suddenly thought of something and asked, “In the past, the Orcs of the Barbarian Highlands used to eat people, right?”
“Yes,” Sedros replied in a calm tone, as if such an act was perfectly justifiable, no different from eating vegetables or radishes. “But now, almost all the Orcs here were rescued by me when they were cubs. I let them grow up and live with humans, so they’ve completely lost their original customs and culture. In essence, they’re no different from humans. You’ve seen it yourself—humans and Orcs live together well here in Oufu.”
“I’m talking about the hatred between humans and Orcs,” Ethan pressed. “Can it really be resolved so easily? What about those whose loved ones were killed by Orcs—like the soldiers you had to kill a few days ago, or the general?”
Sedros smiled faintly and said, “I believe the trade benefits Oufu will bring to various countries, along with the gifts for those ministers, will be enough to make people forget these old grievances. Glistening gold coins in front of them are definitely more valuable than the blood in their memories. They’ll even help us resolve these issues. Look at those soldiers we had to kill a few days ago—didn’t the imperial court just laugh it off? Even if I hadn’t killed them, do you think they would have fared well when they went back? The imperial court has already made a pact with me and understands the common interests of long-term cooperation. They would have executed all those who might harm our mutual interests on charges of violating military orders.”
“That’s five thousand lives,” Ethan muttered, forcing a bitter smile. The gruesome sight of charred corpses on the ground and the screams of five thousand people as they died had kept him from sleeping soundly every night lately.
Sedros’s voice remained calm: “Those in high positions only consider the overall interests of the country. What are five thousand people? If necessary, fifty thousand could be killed just as easily.” He fixed Ethan with a sharp gaze. “To achieve great things, you can’t get hung up on trivial details, can’t be picky about methods, and can’t let emotions hold you back. It seems you still have too much of a soft heart—you’ll need to learn to let that go gradually.”
Ethan could only smile bitterly and wave his hand. “Forget it. Once I finish things here, I’m going to travel. I can’t do these ‘great things,’ and I’ve never even wanted to.”
“Travel?” Sedros looked at him with a strange expression, as if he were hearing the word for the first time. “You still want to travel?”
“Yes,” Ethan nodded.
Sedros’s gaze remained odd. “I didn’t know what Ronis was planning at first, but when I saw you delivering the peace agreement, I realized he intended to make you a hero admired by thousands, to let you accomplish something great. Why do you still want to travel?”
A hero admired by thousands, accomplishing something great—this title was not only grand but also dazzling. It seemed only someone out of their mind would have no interest in it.
But Ethan really didn’t care about this title. It wasn’t that he was crazy; it just wasn’t for him. “I should have refused his kindness earlier. I really have no interest in this.”
A hero—a truly wonderful title. But back in the royal capital, when Ethan had been with Rodhart, he had already seen the political manoeuvring, schemes, intrigue, assassinations, and false affection hidden behind this “admired” title. Duke Mrak’s gentle smile had seemed so kind, and he had once spoken sincerely to Ethan. But the sword that had come from behind in the dark had been deadly. To be honest, even now, Ethan couldn’t bring himself to feel any enmity toward the duke—he just felt utter disgust for the royal capital itself.
Moreover, he had never even dreamed of accomplishing great things, not even when he was a child. What was more, the lessons Duke Mrak and Sedros had taught him had only made him resent the very idea of “great things.”
“Refuse?” Sedros’s expression grew even stranger, as if he were not just hearing the word for the first time, but had heard an absurd joke. “Can you even refuse? Don’t you know you have to take on this role of hero? That you have to accomplish something great?”
Being forced to become a hero and do great things whether you wanted to or not—this was the real absurd joke. But there was no trace of humor on the speaker’s face.
Ethan could sense that something was wrong behind this unfunny joke. He spoke seriously, making his stance clear: “In my dictionary, apart from eating, drinking, sleeping, and going to the toilet, there has never been such a word as ‘must.’”
Sedros looked at Ethan, nodded thoughtfully, and said, “So he hasn’t told you yet.”
Looking at the old man’s half-smiling expression, Ethan suddenly felt a strange unease.
“I can’t explain what’s going on,” Sedros waved his hand, as if reluctant to say more. “You should go back and ask him.”
After wrapping up matters in Oufu as quickly as possible, Ethan returned to the royal capital and to the Magic Academy.
Every building in the academy was tall and magnificent, perfectly embodying nobility and holiness. The most striking of all was the dozens-of-meters-tall cathedral in the center of the academy. In terms of both scale and aura, everyone seemed tiny in front of it.
Ethan stood at the door, gazing up at the cathedral. This sacred, towering building felt even more uncomfortable than usual. He even had to summon up his courage before stepping through its doors, which looked like the gaping maw of a monster.
Bishop Ronis was surprised by Ethan’s sudden appearance—he had been about to discuss with the emperor holding a grand ceremony to commend this cleric who had returned after accomplishing his mission.
After listening to Ethan’s words, Bishop Ronis smiled and asked, “You don’t want to be a hero? Don’t want to be admired by others? This is something many people dream of.”
Ethan shook his head firmly: “What does it matter to me if I’m a hero or if others admire me? It won’t make me grow an extra piece of flesh, and I’ll still eat three meals a day.”
Bishop Ronis nodded with a smile. “But I hope you will do these things.”
Ethan emphasized again: “I’m sorry, Your Eminence. I came back to tell you that I won’t do these meaningless things.”
“You have to,” Bishop Ronis’s voice was soft, but his words carried great weight. “You have no choice. Whether you like it or not, the task you bear is given to you by the times—it is the peace of the entire continent.”
“Of course I have a choice. What I do is my freedom,” Ethan replied firmly. And this was indeed a valid, firm reason.
Ethan took out his appointment letter and token, threw them on the table. He had always respected this old man who had saved his life several times, but now he felt a twinge of resentment. “I don’t know what ‘the times’ are, and I’ve never received any ‘task’ from it. All I know is that I don’t like doing these things. I also never thought there was anything I ‘must’ do. Now, I’m giving back this cleric position to you.”
The bishop looked at the only person who dared to speak to him in such a tone. His gentle gaze seemed to be fixed on a willful child. He spoke in a strangely helpless voice: “You have to do this. Even I have no choice—how could you? Do you know that the Elves have already sent me a warrant for your arrest? Their envoys have also told me what happened. Do you still think you can go traveling now?”
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Ethan let out a cold snort. “I know they’re after me, but I’m not afraid. I have my own ways to deal with it.”
“But do you know that I should also help them issue a warrant for you in the name of the Church? That I could even discuss with the emperor sending the Paladin Order to hunt you down?” Bishop Ronis’s tone remained calm.
Ethan’s mouth dropped open—he couldn’t close it no matter how hard he tried.
“As long as I say the word, almost every country on the continent will be after you. And for me, I really should do that. Do you know that?”
“No,” Ethan shook his head mechanically.
“Admittedly, from a national perspective, eccentric races like the Elves are insignificant, and the myths passed down among them are even more absurd. After all, a country is sustained by its military, economy, and politics—history is written by these tangible concepts. So politicians don’t care about things like light and darkness; even many people in the Church don’t pay attention to them.” The bishop held out a hand, and one thin finger tapped his chest lightly. “They don’t believe, but I do.”
“What do you believe in, Your Eminence?” Ethan asked cautiously.
Bishop Ronis replied calmly: “I believe that the Sunwell and the Leaves of the World Tree are indeed symbols of the power of light. I believe that only light can resist darkness.”
Ethan suddenly remembered a story he had almost forgotten—a annoying story he had dismissed as nonsense.
Bishop Ronis looked at Ethan, let out a long sigh, and said, “The Elves must have told you the story passed down in their race, right?”
Ethan couldn’t help but grimace. It was that same nonsense story again. But if it was spoken seriously by a respected bishop like Ronis, no one would dare dismiss it as nonsense anymore.
“The ‘evil creature’ they talk about is actually a sacred relic of the Necromancer Guild—a divine sword called The Black Star,” Bishop Ronis’s voice echoed in the small room, carrying the unique depth of history. “Five hundred years ago, Archibald, the most powerful mage who ever lived, entered the Diya Valley, a place no one had ever set foot in before. There, he discovered The Black Star—a divine object symbolizing darkness and death. He was overwhelmed by its immense power and founded the Necromancer Guild, an organization of mages who worship darkness and death. Even that mage, who was said to be closest to the gods, couldn’t pull The Black Star from its resting place. But he left a final message: whoever could pull the sword out would become the Lich King, who would purge the world with death and darkness. However, he also vaguely mentioned two other divine objects of light and life—the Sunwell and the Leaves of the World Tree, which the Elves guard. This aligns with the ancient legends of the Elves, so the conclusion is clear. Just as the Elves say, only the power of light and life can resist darkness.”
“Wait, wait—if that’s true, why hasn’t the Church taken any action all these years?” Ethan suddenly realized something was wrong. The Church of Light wielded power on the continent that no single country could match. It wasn’t just the empire—most countries on the continent believed in the God of Light. And the Church had always presented itself as the embodiment of light and justice. There was no reason for it to turn a blind eye to such a huge shadow as the Necromancer Guild.
For the first time, the light in Bishop Ronis’s eyes was filled with frustration and worry. He didn’t explain anything; he just forced a bitter smile and said, “You’ll understand the reasons later.” His gaze flickered, and he returned to the previous topic. “If the people of the Necromancer Guild find out you carry two kinds of power within you, they will never let you go. So the safest, most secure way for us would be to lock you up in an absolutely safe, absolutely secret place and slowly find a way to extract the power from your body. But…” The bishop’s dignified, profound demeanor and noble status couldn’t hide the tenderness in his eyes now. “When I heard that you were willing to use the Leaves of the World Tree to save someone else, I knew your heart was filled with light. So I changed my mind. Instead of passively arresting and protecting you, I want to make you a hero of light—someone who will eventually destroy the root of this evil.”
After hearing these words, Ethan felt his head was at least dozens of times bigger and hundreds of times heavier than usual. He was dizzy and disoriented.
It took him a great deal of effort to sort out his thoughts and try to express himself: “That was only because I was the one who caused her injuries in the first place. Saving her was just to make myself feel better. I don’t know anything about this so-called ‘light.’”
“That is true justice,” the bishop said, the tenderness in his eyes undiminished as he once again affirmed Ethan’s noble character. “There is no such thing as morality or justice that is beyond all evil and perfectly pure. To stay alive, don’t we all eat the lives of other creatures? But amid this inescapable original sin, keeping a little kindness, compassion, and love in your heart—that is the true, only light in a person’s heart.”
Ethan felt his head was about to explode. Faced with this old man who seemed to be patiently guiding him but was actually impossible to communicate with, his head couldn’t help but feel big, heavy, and dizzy.
Whether the damn Sunwell and Leaves of the World Tree were really that important, or whether there was even such a thing as light and darkness—Ethan didn’t care about any of it. What he cared about was that it seemed he had no choice but to be this hero.
Old people were usually very stubborn. Trying to persuade a bishop who firmly believed in these legends to give up his beliefs was probably a thousand times harder than making Ethan himself believe in those vague, absurd tales. And as long as Bishop Ronis truly believed, Ethan had no choice but to think along the same lines.
This wasn’t so much a path to becoming a hero as a job to avoid being locked up and guarded like a container.
The Church owed its lofty status in the empire almost entirely to Bishop Ronis alone. More than thirty years ago, on the continent east of the Barbarian Highlands, several countries centered around the Ainfast Empire had been trapped in years of endless war, and the people had been living in misery. It was Bishop Ronis who had led the then-not-so-powerful Church forces in this eastern continent—using various means to mediate, negotiate, and even take part in battles between the countries. In the end, he not only put an end to the wars but also elevated the Church’s status in the empire to an unprecedented height. As a result, his prestige and status in the Holy See were unparalleled by any other bishop. It was said that if he hadn’t insisted on staying here to run the Magic Academy, he would have been the current Pope. With his status, if he issued a warrant for someone’s arrest, not only the empire and other countries that believed in the Church of Light, but even pagan countries would hunt down that fugitive with all their might due to diplomatic pressure. There would be no place left for Ethan to stand on the entire continent.
Looking into Bishop Ronis’s eyes, Ethan understood one thing clearly: for now, he couldn’t refuse any longer.
Might as well give it a try. So many people were willing to do great things and become heroes—maybe it really was something good. Realizing there was no way out, Ethan could only think this way. Finally, he lowered his head weakly and helplessly, let out a frown, and sighed. Like a student accepting a mountain of homework for the holidays, he said, “I understand.”
Bishop Ronis let out a long sigh and then smiled—a happy, contented smile.
“But I still have one question,” Ethan suddenly looked up at Bishop Ronis and asked. “Why didn’t you hand me over to the Elves when I was half-dead in Oufu? Why didn’t you let them take me back to the Forest of Whispers to be locked up as a real container? That would have been so much simpler. I don’t think you did it for Duke Mrak’s plan. Why did you waste such an important Leaves of the World Tree—something so precious to you?”
A strange, complex expression crossed the bishop’s face. This turmoil lingered on his features for a while before slowly fading back into his dignified, profound demeanor. He didn’t answer directly. The two sparks in his eyes flickered constantly, and his words sounded vague, as if they were stirring up many things from his memories. “I used to not believe in fate, but I saw it in you. Saving you is also part of fate. Maybe there really are things that are predestined in the dark. So I once felt confused—I was afraid of the things that might come true. I wondered if all my efforts over the years had been in vain, and if what I would do in the future would also be for nothing. But after talking to you last time, I finally made up my mind. No matter what the outcome is, I will do my best to do what I should do. I must guide you onto the path of light, toward justice. There was once someone just like you—excellent, kind, innocent. He was also dragged into this vortex against his will, but in the end, he fell into darkness.” The sparks in his eyes burned fiercely. This was not something stirred up by a sense of responsibility; it was purely the natural expression of personal emotion. For someone like him, who was supposed to have transcended such feelings, to show such intense emotion made it all the more significant. He looked at Ethan, as if trying to illuminate the young man in front of him with his gaze and feelings, and said firmly, “I saved you because of fate, but also to resist fate.”
Ethan didn’t fully understand, but he vaguely felt that it was better not to understand at all.
It was already dusk when he walked out of the Magic Academy. The streets of the royal capital were preparing for the upcoming debaucherous night life. Carriages carrying noble ladies began to rush back and forth, and cheap prostitutes from taverns and expensive ones from brothels also appeared on the street, calling out to passersby.
Bishop Ronis had already started a series of tedious preparations: consulting with several high-ranking clerics, sending notices to the imperial court, and so on. Ethan didn’t want to get involved—he didn’t even know how to. All he needed to do now was go back and wait for the grand commendation ceremony tomorrow, waiting step by step to step onto the path of glory that Bishop Ronis had prepared for him.
Ethan walked down the street like a wooden puppet. I’m going to be a hero. A hero. A hero… He couldn’t reconcile himself with this strange title in his mind or his understanding. It was as if he was suddenly going to turn into a strange creature he had never seen before—unable to get used to facing this strange identity, and not knowing what to do at all.
“Fuck this,” Ethan muttered, feeling extremely annoyed. What the hell was this “light”? What the hell was a “hero”? He didn’t want to care about any of this. But now, was he even not allowed to run away?
Passersby cast curious glances at this “lunatic.” “This young man looks familiar—why does he look so upset? Do you want me to keep you company?” A fair, slender hand boldly pinched Ethan’s arm.
Ethan turned around and saw a somewhat familiar face. It was the prostitute who had gone on stage to place a bet for Rodhart and perform at the martial arts tournament. She still had her shoulders and half her chest exposed outside her clothes, wearing makeup that was unnecessary for her originally cute face.
Since he was a child, Ethan had often mixed with miners and prostitutes in taverns. Now, amid the pressure of “saving the world” and other so-called great missions, seeing such a “familiar face from the past” filled him with a sense of closeness.
A strange idea popped into his mind. At first, even he thought it was absurd, but this idea immediately brought him a malicious pleasure—like urinating on a sacred statue, a feeling similar to blasphemy and revenge. Ethan grabbed that delicate hand and asked fiercely, “Are you free?”
“That depends,” the prostitute replied bluntly. “Generally speaking, the more money you have, the more free time I’ll have. As for a discount—we can talk about that once we’re on better terms.”
Ethan pulled out a gold coin and twirled it in his hand. “How much free time can this buy?” Ronis had given him the coin just now, telling him to tidy himself up properly so that he could match the noble status that would soon be his.
The light in the prostitute’s eyes was no less bright than that on the gold coin. She replied with excitement, “Plenty of free time—more than enough.”
“Good,” Ethan shouted fiercely again. He somewhat hoped that Bishop Ronis could find out about what he was doing now.
Ethan would never forget this day. It was just too strange. First, he was forced to become a hero, ready to walk a great “path of light.” Then, he immediately did something even stranger—going to find a prostitute.
