I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist

“Hero.”

Someone’s words made everyone in the area turn. The number of eyes on me increased. From one to two, two to five, five to twenty. The slapping stopped. Even the shouting died down. The faces that had been contorted with anger towards the Puritans became expressionless. I took off my hood, hoping to draw attention.

“It’s the Hero.”
“Why are you here?”

I said nothing and stared at the people who regarded me as a statue. Slowly, the residents began to surround me. The clamor of those chasing Marianne and Georg through the alleyway died down. Cultists, commoners, and the people of Bactins were all gathering.

(Elroy.)

The Holy Sword called to me. I did not answer her. It was something I had to face alone. People gathered like shadows beyond the light of the night overhead. One by one, their faces, hidden by the darkness, came into view.

Wide-eyed fanatics, children wiping away tears, wary young men, women clutching their stained aprons.

“…Why did you come back here?”

An old man asked me. I couldn’t open my mouth. Elroy and the Hero’s Party protected the world, but they had sacrificed Bactins. For these people who see the town as their world, he had failed to save the world.

“Hero, are you with those Puritans who want to expel us?”

I shook my head.

“I’m not here to harm you. I am only here to capture the person you call ‘Teacher.’”
“…He isn’t a bad man, Hero. He has cared for us, told us why this has happened, and showed us the way forward.”

The old man’s voice was hoarse.

“The child treated by the Teacher will die soon. People are losing interest in living their lives; I’m sure some are scared by your behavior even now.”

It’s wrong
I don’t know if they could hear me.

“They are the ones who look forward to the death of others, and you should never trust them.”
“…Now you’re trying to take away the one thing we can have faith in.”
“Teacher and his teachings are wrong; they are merely acts of violence.”

I spoke again, slowly, so that the villagers could hear.

“Even if that’s the only thing you can believe, I’ll prove it is wrong and free you from its grasp. I will bring you back into reality.
“…Our reality is long gone.”

The old man spoke, his voice shaky.

“It disappeared when you decided to destroy it. The world celebrated while we wept. Then when the Fourth Disaster struck, none of this happened to them.”

The old man bent his back and let out a harsh, dry laugh like sandpaper scraping the depths of his lung.

“We alone have become madmen. Hero, you have defended the North so well that when the rest of the world is rejoicing and celebrating the defeat of the Disaster, the people of Bactins alone have become homeless, fading from memory, dwelling on the past, and cursing the world for our pain…!”

The old man spoke in a voice that threatened to break at any moment. Someone grabbed the old man from the side as he stumbled over his words.

“Call us cunning. Call us narrow-minded and shallow. We don’t care. However, you should know that this ending we’ve had to accept, that it had to come to all of us at some point, has comforted us more than the irresponsible words that told us to hold out for some flimsy, vague hope.”

I lowered my head, following the old man as he sank to the floor.

“…I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Hero, you will either exterminate the people of this place or leave us alone again.”

It was not my fault. I couldn’t have done anything about it. But I could not turn a deaf ear to it and walk away. It was neither Elroy’s, Arjen’s, nor Iris’ fault. But innocence didn’t excuse responsibility. I looked at each person around me and then said the words they probably never wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry.”

Their eyes squinted, their faces scrunched with the rage they had kept inside.

“I wasn’t strong enough.”

And then laughter erupted from beneath my feet. The demon worshipper, who had remained silent until now, looked at me with blood dripping from his mouth.

“Hero, you are truly wonderful! You destroyed this whole city, and all you can do is come back and apologize. And yet you want to make us into the evil ones?”

I ignored him. The worshipper gritted his teeth and continued to laugh.

“That’s an ugly sight, Hero!”

But the cultist’s words didn’t reach the villagers’ ears. They were emotionally agitated. Mostly anger, resentment, and a sense of futility.

“…If you apologize like that…”

A woman spoke loudly.

“What are we supposed to do? Destroyed homes, land, and dead family members. The only thing you have given us is a shameless apology with your head down. What can we do? You’ll be the good guy, and we’ll become an ugly bunch who hurl profanity. If that’s how you want to do it, I’ll show you what you seek.”

The woman threw the bucket she was holding at me. The bucket didn’t fly far from her slender arms before it hit my arm, bounced off, and rolled across the floor. Deep down, they probably know. That none of this was really their fault.

“I apologize… I apologize… I… I…”

The woman then sank to her knees and began to sob. The people who had been standing still glared at me with various expressions. A thousand eyes filled with resentment pierced me like arrows and spearheads. I took a small breath and saw their emotions one by one.

“…Why did it have to be us?”

I could hear their voices. A small stone fell with a thud at my feet.

“Why do we have to suffer like this!”

The objects flying at me began to multiply. Boulders, planks of wood, buckets, pipes, and many things on the ground. I didn’t raise my hands or move a step. I didn’t brace myself or ignore their throws.

More and more objects hit my body. My clothes were torn. Bruises appeared on my arms. The flesh on my shoulder was ripped off, and a bucket was thrown at my forehead. A rock whizzed past my head.

“Why can they live normally while we deal with this?”

Their words hurt more than the flying objects. It was deceitful to take credit for something that wasn’t mine, and perhaps I was guilty of something else, too. But if I don’t even apologize, then the words of those who deny the world are justified. The words that this place has been abandoned become true. I would not let that happen. I will not forsake them now.

“My family. My home…!”

As the wounds on my body grew, so did the people’s anger. It hurt. The wounds they inflicted hurt this much.

“Who will return what I lost….”

My forehead was cut, and the bruises grew. The pain increased as they hit the old wounds over and over and over.

“Why… Why!!! We didn’t deserve this!!!”

A fist-sized rock flew at my head. Another one hit me, and my forehead was torn open. The wound burst open, and blood trickled down. It hurt. I stumbled back a step.

“Why. Why…”

Empty questions hovered in the air. One by one, their anger turned to tears.

Why?

***

A myriad of junk was baptizing Elroy. For some reason, he didn’t even try to protect himself. Iris remained frozen as she watched him move through the crowd. A glowing halo floated above his head, his eyes fixed on the people pelting him with wood, iron pipes, and stones.

“Elroy….”

Daphne’s face contorted. With her mana drained, she could only stare helplessly at Elroy. Her fists balled in anger. Nails dug into her flesh, drawing blood.

Iris tried to breathe, but the air got caught in her throat and wouldn’t come out. Every orifice in her body felt plugged, preventing her from letting anything out. Emotions and thoughts swirled around, trapped in her head.

“What did we do to deserve this!”

Elroy didn’t deserve the blame, for he was the only one who truly wanted to protect the town. He was the only one who didn’t deserve to stand there and be stoned. Iris bit her lip. It hurt. It hurt to know the blame was placed on Elroy alone, especially since he was the one who wanted to protect Bactins with his life.

Elroy was already a wreck; his clothes were half ragged, his head cracked open, and blood streaming down his face. Iris pushed her way through the crowd. Moving people aside, she made her way forward. Elroy’s head snapped to face her. His expression was shocked. Iris ran to stop him, and a cry rose from the crowd.

“Die!!!”

It was a cry so far removed from the resentment and anger of the people, and Iris saw a shiny object fly straight at her. Without missing a beat, the thing swooped down, aiming for Iris’ brow.

‘So this is it. So this is how I get punished.’

She closed her eyes.

She heard the sound of a bone cracking, but there was no pain. She slowly opened her eyes. Blood was dripping before her. It wasn’t her blood. She blinked dazedly and lifted her head. She felt another hand on her back.

“Looks like there’s still someone in hiding.”

A dagger pierced Elroy’s hand. Iris sucked in a small breath as she saw the inverted cross etched into the dagger’s hilt. Elroy slowly rose to his feet, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“Georg, Marianne!”

At Elroy’s shout, two shadows leaped out of the alley. The knife thrower ran through the crowd, but he let out an ugly scream as he was caught by Georg and Marianne. Elroy stared at them momentarily, then turned back to the villagers.

“No… I never meant to harm the Saintess….”

The people were terrified. Inside, they all knew what would happen next. The Hero could kill all of them without moving. A chill went down their spines.

However, the Hero was Elroy.

His expression softened, and he drew the dagger embedded in his hand and sheathed it at his belt, blood dripping down his left hand.

“I know.”

An awkward moment of silence followed. Iris rose, supported by Elroy. They don’t know what happened that day, the day of the battle with the Kraken.

“Men, women, and children, I have something to tell you.”

Iris opened her mouth, heads turning toward her, and Elroy quickly covered her mouth, shaking his head. She tried to push his hand away, but he didn’t let go.

Why. You’re not giving me a chance to clear up your misunderstanding. You don’t deserve pain. You don’t deserve resentment. You don’t deserve their anger.

“Please.”

When Iris heard Elroy speak so briefly, she grabbed his arm and knelt before him. No matter how hard she tried, Elroy didn’t let her open her mouth.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening was followed by footsteps.

“Saintess!!!”

It was the cruelest timing. The man was coming toward the crowd, carrying his son. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, then widened in surprise at seeing so many people.

“I was wondering where you were going all of a sudden…”

The crowd groaned and looked at the boy, who seemed fine.

“…Wonderful, Teacher’s magic….”

The man shook his head and gestured toward Iris.

“The Saintess has just healed him, stripped him of the pseudo-spell of that damned Teacher you’ve been talking about. She was the one who cured him.”

The man turned to the others and pleaded.

“Please, open your eyes and see. They’re just trying to use us. Don’t be fooled by their mind-bending words, and see who’s really trying to help us.”

There was an uproar. Iris watched the debate with a bewildered expression. They seemed to have forgotten about her. The people were divided into two camps, arguing fiercely: those who insisted that Teacher was right and those who were beginning to be persuaded. The truth she wanted to say was slowly being forgotten.

“Don’t speak.”

Elroy’s voice came through. Iris’ hand trembled as she gripped his arm. It’s too late. She understood that she could no longer tell the truth. Her exhausted body fell to the floor, and Elroy gently patted her head.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Elroy picked her up. Helplessly in his arms, Iris stared at the people. The scene seemed to claw at her heart again.

“Hero.”

A man’s voice called out. The man seemed slightly shaken by the realization that the man who had helped him so far was the Hero. The man looked at Elroy with complicated eyes, then sighed.

“You’ll have to come with me.”

Elroy nodded. He walked through the crowd with Iris in his arms. Waves of people parted to make way for him, but their gazes were not kind. They still burned with hatred. Unable to meet their stare, Iris turned her head and buried her forehead in Elroy’s chest.

“Don’t ever show your face again.”
“We will not forget this, and I hope you will forever live in guilt for doing this to us.”

Elroy was taking every word they threw at him. Iris stiffened, pulled his collar, and with difficulty, lifted her hand up and over Elroy’s ear.

“Their hate is meant for me, not you.”

Elroy shook his head. He gestured for her to lower her arm.

“I need to hear it.”

With that, Elroy walked in silence. The accusations continued to fly. Iris placed her arms around his neck and put her head on his chest once more. The bloodied Hero trudged along, his steps heartbreakingly stiff.

Iris’ hands tightened. The tears she’d been trying to hold back spilled out. Guilt, remorse, regret. She clung desperately to Elroy through the swirl of emotions.

“I was wrong….”

The words came out of her mouth with a sob. Like a child confessing their sins to their parents, Iris sobbed, vomiting up her mistakes, and begged his forgiveness.

“I’m sorry….”

The Hero said nothing but walked on, and the Saintess cried in his arms, repeating her apology over and over again.

Translator’s Corner

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I can’t lie; this chapter was the hardest to translate by far. I feel like I’ve changed almost every paragraph trying to make it all fit.  Good thing I made this early, as there is another chapter you can read after. Ain’t that a great way to avoid this cliff?