Tale of the Fake Hero

Prologue - Fake

"A long time ago, my grandmother told me a story...."

A feeble death rattle could be heard.

This child was dying.

I sheathed the Supreme Holy Sword, Aradamantle, and knelt on one knee before them.

"When the Abyss spreads across the world... the gods... will send a hero...."

It was the work of Uruk.

Their spine had been crushed by a mace. Even if they miraculously survived, they would never walk again.

"You... you're the hero, right?"

A hero, huh....

I shook my head bitterly.

It was a forgotten name. A name that could not exist in this land of tears, abandoned even by the gods.

"But then... how did you...."

The child's gaze moved past my shoulder.

To the place where I had slain a hundred monsters, where the corpses of Uruk's vanguard lay strewn like garbage.

"I did it, but I'm just a fake."

"A fake...?"

A hero.

A being who sealed the Abyss and ushered in the Age of Light during the Age of Myths.

Unfortunately, I was not grand enough to be chosen by the gods.

More than anything, the world was neither kind nor generous enough to birth such an existence in every era.

"The Holy Church of the Dragon calls fakes like me 'Fakewarriors.'"

Fakewarrior—literally, a fake hero.

Yes, a fake.

An artificially created hero.

A desperate manifestation of humanity's will to resist a cruel and tragic fate.

"It means I don't have the power to grant what you wish."

I couldn't bring the dead back to life. I couldn't split the sea with a single strike.

All those feats belonged to the Age of Myths—the stories of a true hero.

I was merely a fake hero.

"Then... then... will they just go on living as they please...? Without any punishment...?"

Killing, plundering, violating.

The Abyss, and its servants, always did.

They stole humanity's cherished daily lives.

As if to mock the efforts and struggles of those who had lived their days earnestly.

"They killed Mom, Dad, Grandma, you, and the whole village.... And yet...."

The child began to cry softly.

Their breath was on its last thread, yet from where did such wretched sobs emerge?

"It's unfair... that in the end... all I can do... is cry like this...."

Through those cascading tears, I saw a reflection of my younger self, sobbing and trembling.

Just like this child.

On that day when the stars stole everything from me and laughed, I could do nothing but cry.

"If only I... if only I had even a little bit of strength like you...."

What did they wish for? To live? Or to receive one last comfort?

I did not know.

And because I did not know, there was only one thing I could do.

"No matter what you expect... I can't create an unrealistic miracle."

Their trembling hands.

That hand reaching out in their final moments—I took it.

"But this, I can promise you."

"...?"

"I will repay them in kind. Every single thing they did to you and your family."

Quietly.

Faintly, ever so weakly.

The pulse that had been trembling in defiance through our clasped hands faded. And then, it vanished.

"...."

I slowly laid the child's hand onto the ground and let out a short sigh.

It was midsummer.

The season when volcanic ash blackened the world.

At the threshold of that season, crows descended like a shadow upon the dead, tearing at their flesh.

And then.

"Kisayka o tto shiem?"

"Olbera shi ge meruk."

A voice like a saw scraping against iron.

I turned around. As expected, Uruk’s main forces had arrived.

The eerie clanking of chainmail rang out as they poured into the village.

Their eyes each held something different.

Rage at the one who had killed their kin. Interest in a powerful opponent.

But not an ounce of guilt for those they had slaughtered and pillaged.

Of course.

They were always like this.

Jing—

With a flash, the Supreme Holy Sword, Aradamantle, burst forth from its sheath, roaring with a crimson arc of sword aura.

"Kishiro mao karedan da?!"

One of them shouted.

A guttural language.

"Who are you?" they asked, wary.

I answered.

"I am Kaisen Alter Aradamantle."

Aradamantle was the name of my Holy Sword.

The middle name 'Alter' was given to Fakewarriors, meaning 'substitute' in an ancient tongue.

In full, it meant 'Kaisen, the substitute of Aradamantle.'

"And I will kill you all."

This small name.

And this desperate, feeble cry.

On that day when the sun and moon cowered in fear, and only the stars remained to mock my tears—this was the fate I had wished for myself.

***

Chapter 1: The Night When the Stars Laughed

My mother was a 'fake' hero.

I think I first heard that story when I was about four years old.

"Kaisen, your mother is a hero recorded in history, you know?"

"He-ro?"

"Fox? Oh, yes! I was like a fox. Men lined up for me. And why wouldn't they? Beautiful, kind, and unbelievably strong!"

At that time, I knew nothing.

I didn't know of the hellish battlefields she had struggled through, stained with grief and tears, just to become such a hero.

I just listened with shining eyes, not truly understanding.

"Fakewarriors can't have children because of the side effects of their bodily modifications. But your father was so... potent that just one night together got me pregnant."

"Irene... What are you saying to a four-year-old?"

"Shut up. Just because you're virile doesn’t mean you can talk. Anyway, I found out I was pregnant about three months before the final battle. You can’t imagine how shocked I was."

Fake Warriors swear upon enlistment to abandon family and love, dedicating their lives solely as blades for the world.

My mother broke that oath.

For the sake of giving birth to my sister and me.

So after leading the final battle to victory, she faked her death and fled to this remote, faraway land to start a life with my father.

"People say I performed countless miracles on the battlefield..."

By the end of the story, she would always pull me into a tight embrace, nuzzling her face against me as if she couldn't contain her love.

"But Kaisen, you and your sister are the greatest miracles I ever made. That’s why I’ll protect you both forever."

And if that wasn't a lie, my mother had astonishingly sharp ears.

A single whimper in my sleep, a stumble over a rock—no matter when, no matter where, she would dash to my side and cradle me.

Always. Everywhere.

"Hm?"

It was the year I turned seven.

I once happened to witness my mother training with the sword.

At a young age, knowing nothing, I blankly watched her elegant swordsmanship. Then, all of a sudden, my mother pointed the tip of her sword at me.

"Kaisen, how does it feel to have your life threatened by someone?"

A vague yet indistinct fear welled up in my eyes as tears gathered.

"Scary, isn't it?"

Then my mother spun around and pointed the tip of her sword in the opposite direction.

"Now, what about the feeling when someone protects life instead?"

The sight of my mother’s back at that moment.

The face that glanced over her shoulder with a soft smile…

Was it because of the dazzling kindness in her expression that my tears unknowingly ceased?

"Now, look."

My mother approached me and placed a small wooden sword in my hand.

"A sword, you see, can be a tool to take lives, but conversely, it can also become a power to protect others."

"……?"

"Kaisen, how do you want to use this sword?"

Back then.

If only I had answered that I wanted to protect my mother with my feeble strength, barely able to hold a sword properly…

Would I have been able to twist the wheel of fate, even just a little?

I do not know.

Perhaps I will never know.

From the moment I was born, the wheel of my destiny was leading me to a place where swords could neither reach nor cut.

"By the guidance of light, we meet again like this, Laminea Alter Aradamantel."

The prelude to the summer that would cast its shadow over my life revealed itself when I turned thirteen.

The papal delegation had come to this remote village to seek my mother, and the final rays of sunlight glowed nobly upon their golden armor.

The Papacy knew my mother’s real name and had been watching, fully aware that she had feigned her death and deserted.

"What an absurd thing. A warrior who graced a page of the heroic epic is now living in seclusion, hunting in some backwater."

"I wouldn’t do that again even if you begged me."

"Do you think we traveled all this way just to play word games?"

"Does this sound like wordplay to you?"

As my mother’s eyes narrowed sharply, the envoy sighed and turned to gaze at the southern sea.

"Summer is coming. A merciless summer at that. It might already be upon us."

"……"

"The Abyss is stirring. Shadows of the Black Church have surfaced all across the continent. Reports of continuous defeats are coming from the Terch Archipelago."

The Terch Archipelago, already…?

Even my mother, who had maintained an indifferent expression until now, raised an eyebrow for a brief moment.

The Terch Archipelago lay between the Akrad Continent and the Demonic Realm, the land of fiends.

One could think of it as the barrier island protecting the human domain.

"It's not even late spring yet, let alone early summer. Don’t lie."

"It is the truth. And yet humanity remains divided, fighting amongst itself. It has been decided that we need a hero as our unifying force."

"……"

"We mean you, Laminea the Crimson."

"……"

"You swore an oath as a warrior, did you not?"

"……"

"Answer us. In this situation, do you truly believe that your place is here?"

The day the delegation arrived, my mother wept all night in the frigid breeze.

Why did she cry?

Why did she have to?

It was the world that was wrong, not her.

"There is something important I need to tell my little princess and prince today."

And the next morning, with eyes swollen red from tears, she gathered my sister and me and showed us her final smile.

"Laminea Alter Aradamantel. That is your mother’s real name."

Alter Aradamantel.

This was not a noble surname.

"Alter" was a verb meaning "substitute," so it translated to "Substitute of the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamantel."

"Didn’t I always tell you? That your mother was an incredibly great hero? So, it seems that people need me once again."

"What do you mean, Mom?"

"I have to return to the battlefield, Ratel. And this place will no longer be safe."

"Mom."

"They say the Terch Archipelago is under attack… Ratel, Kaisen, you must go north with the delegation."

Unlike me, who couldn’t grasp the situation, my always confident, scolding sister wore a grave expression, her voice trembling.

"What do you mean? No! Why do you have to fight? The battlefield is dangerous! Come with us, Mom! We can just run away again!"

"No. The Holy Dragon already knows where I am. He has simply turned a blind eye until now. No matter where I flee, he will know."

The Holy Dragon Haraderiman.

The leader of the Papacy and the divine dragon who governs this godless world as their proxy.

His divine power was absolute.

"Ratel, promise me. No matter what happens, you will cherish and love Kaisen in my place."

"No! No! Why? Why are you speaking like you’ll never return? Just like Dad did!"

"And Kaisen, protect your sister, like—"

At that moment, I did not listen any further. I ran outside.

I.

I just.

I just didn’t want my mother to leave. I only wished for tomorrow to be the same as always.

Hiding in a different spot than usual, staying away until evening.

It was just.

Really, just.

Because I thought… that if she had to search for me, she wouldn’t leave.

The only thing I knew back then was this:

When I was ten, my father died of illness, and no matter how much I called, waited, or cried, he never returned.

And I feared my mother would be the same.

How could a child have known?

That this would lead to my mother’s death…

"Kubeche ou tokose! Kill all those who walk on two legs!"

When I woke up, volcanic ash was swirling in the air.

Beneath that ash, warships filled the horizon, riding the sea breeze and the high tide towards the shore.

Yes.

I knew nothing then.

I didn’t realize it was the dawn of an invasion by Uruk, one of the Six Great Demon Clans.

I didn’t realize that my mother, searching for me, had encountered them.

"Mom."

With cold sweat drenching my skin in fear, I hurried back to the village, burning the chaotic scenery into my retinas.

"Sister."

Thick black smoke billowing from the village.

Endless screams, dull, sickening sounds of impact.

Volcanic ash thickly shrouding everything.

"Mom."

And the soldiers of the Papal delegation, who once stood admired, lay torn apart, their limbs strewn across the ground.

What…

What happened?

What in the world happened?

Before I could comprehend the horror, a massive, brutish hand seized me.

It felt as if a mountain had moved to grab me. This was my first encounter with an Uruk warrior.

He dragged me toward the shore, where countless warships were anchored.

And there—

My mother stood.

A short sword painted the air with a crimson arc.

Heads spun through the air, spewing blood.

Mountains of fallen Uruk warriors piled up.

At that moment, my mother looked like a flower blooming red upon a blood-soaked plain.

It was the most beautiful sword I had ever seen.

Amidst that beauty…

My mother single-handedly beheaded a hundred Uruk warriors, then faced a hundred more.

A divine glow rippled across her short sword, staining it crimson.

The manifestation of sword force.

The mark of a swordsman at the pinnacle of mastery.

My mother must have planned to have my sister and the delegation find me, then buy time against the enemy’s main force. But even that plan crumbled because of me.

"Horoku nena shi. Do not move, human."

One of the Uruk shouted.

The Uruk had been a warrior race since the distant Abyssal Age, exalting victory above all else. But that did not mean they followed honor.

Most of the time, the Uruk would use any means necessary to secure victory.

"M-Mom…"

That was why they delighted in taking hostages when fighting the Feiquaria Legion. Just like when they took me to threaten my mother.

Not because they knew I was her son, but simply because it was a method they frequently used.

Even as my mother blankly looked in my direction, she continued to cut down another Uruk. The Uruk holding me barked again.

"I told you not to move!"

If it were me, I might have frozen in fear at that moment.

But my mother did not succumb to their threats.

Instead, she found another way.

A way to save me, the only way for both of us to survive.

Her head, her gaze, moved in an instant, within a time so brief it could not even be called a moment.

Shweeeeee— Tiiiiiing!

The next instant, my mother flung her short sword fiercely toward 'that method.'

Even the Uruk, honed by countless tribal wars, reacted a beat too late.

"Ogure wira Irishina ro Raminea (My name is Laminea the Crimson)."

The blade quivered deeply, embedded in the bow of a warship, right beside the target’s face.

"Hishime ki KALTAKE ro gimarasu (I challenge you to Kaltake)."

The enraged Uruk warriors, furious at her audacity to target their chieftain, hesitated one by one.

"Crimson…?"

"That human woman…?"

The reason was twofold.

One, because my mother had declared herself as Laminea the Crimson.

To the Uruk, who worshiped battle and victory, a powerful warrior was worthy of respect.

And Laminea the Crimson was the human hero said to have slaughtered most of the Uruk who invaded last summer, driving them away.

"KALTAKE…?"

And because of Kaltake.

Kaltake was an ancient Uruk combat tradition.

A barbaric law of battle that superseded all rules and customs.

A one-on-one duel of absolute fairness.

The victor of this duel, no matter what they had done, would be deemed righteous.

But there was a fatal flaw.

It would never end until one of them died.

"What nonsense—!"

Before the Uruk holding me could finish his outburst—

"──Greeshe (I accept)."

The chieftain drew the short sword embedded in the warship’s bow, thus sealing the duel.

The chieftain was more than two and a half heads taller than even the average Uruk, who already stood over seven feet tall.

His long, wild hair and beard were adorned with the fangs of both slain Uruk chieftains and human warriors.

"If you truly are the Crimson one, then your death shall be the glory of our tribe."

A human slave, crawling on all fours with shackled limbs, translated his words. The old man must have been captured from the Terch Archipelago.

"But I heard all Feiquaria have white hair and wield holy swords?"

The Uruk chieftain pointed her own short sword at her throat, prompting my mother to snatch it back with a scoff.

"It's dyed. And I don’t waste a bull’s blade on a chicken."

"Hah! Bold words. But that means you have no proof that you are the Crimson one."

The Uruk warriors once again reached for their weapons.

The tension was on the brink of eruption.

Yet my mother did not falter. Nor did she explain herself.

Instead, she gestured.

At the countless Uruk corpses, slain by her blade.

And at the small short sword she held.

"……"

The chieftain crossed his arms and stared at my mother’s arrogant gaze. Then, in the next moment, he burst into roaring laughter.

"Did you hear that?! You useless wretches!"

His laughter was so loud that the translator’s voice was drowned out.

"From this moment, the Kaltake between Laminea the Crimson and I, Valkaro, begins!"

"WUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

A deafening roar erupted.

Hundreds of Uruk warriors howled in frenzied excitement, forming a thick ring around my mother and Valkaro.

Not merely to spectate.

But to ensure neither could escape until one of them was dead—a savage custom of their kind.

"If you wish, I can lend you a weapon. We have taken many swords from the humans."

Valkaro wielded an enormous single-edged axe.

It was so heavy that two Uruk warriors struggled to carry it. That axe had slain 87 other Uruk war chiefs.

Against it, my mother wielded only a single slender short sword. Not even a weapon, but something she always treasured like a keepsake.

"I told you, I don’t use a bull’s blade on a chicken."

"Ha!"

Thus, the duel began…

And to anyone watching, the outcome seemed obvious. Even to my untrained eyes.

But it wasn’t.

As my mother effortlessly deflected Valkaro’s massive axe, her crimson sword aura whirled like a storm, spilling blood.

From Valkaro’s arm, his side, and his right cheek.

The sword’s afterimages stretched infinitely.

The Uruk who had cheered so wildly began to fall silent, one by one, captivated by the elegance of her swordsmanship.

Like a blooming red flower. Was this why she was called the Crimson Lotus?

"Could the rumors be true…?"

"They say the number of Uruk chieftains slain by her is uncountable…"

Perhaps feeling impatient as he was driven back, Valkaro suddenly lifted his axe high, aiming for a decisive strike.

My mother must have been waiting for that moment.

"SHEGAaaaaaaaaaa───!"

And at that moment, she would have ended the battle.

Had I not screamed.

Had an Uruk not crushed my spine in its grip, unable to bear watching their chieftain fall.

Had my cry of pain not shattered my mother’s concentration.

I should not have screamed.

Not even a single sound.

"Kaisen…?!"

Laminea was the strongest Feiquaria in history, without a single weakness. But at that moment, she was not a Feiquaria.

She was a mother.

The instant she heard her beloved son’s cry, her concentration wavered.

Her sword faltered.

And the axe that should have clashed against her sword instead tore deep into her shoulder.

Splitting her collarbone.

Ripping through muscle and organs.

Driving her to the brink of death.

"M-MOM…!"

My head swam in nausea.

Dizziness overtook me, and my heart pounded uncontrollably.

At that moment, Valkaro strode towards me, roaring as he crushed the Uruk holding me, reducing its face to blood and shattered bone.

How dare you defile my Kaltake, he muttered.

"Mom."

I had no time to wonder why he had killed his own subordinate.

All I knew was that, thanks to his sudden brutality, the grip restraining me had vanished.

The moment I collapsed onto the sand, I scrambled to my feet and ran towards my mother.

"Mom, Mom."

I could see nothing else.

Only my mother—my mother and nothing else. I stumbled, fell, rose again, and ran.

I had no idea how many times I tripped.

"Mom…!"

She was kneeling on the sand, Valkaro’s monstrous axe still embedded deep in her shoulder.

"My Kaisen, you're safe…"

Thank the gods.

Thank you, thank you. She was still breathing. My mother was alive.

Yes, for now…

Her eyes wavered with unease.

My mind went blank, as if a white-hot spike had pierced through my skull.

What… What was I supposed to do?

"Are you the Crimson One’s son?"

A voice rang out.

Before I could react, my body was hurled into the air.

The moment I crashed onto the sand, a massive shadow loomed over me, burning itself into my memory for the rest of my life.

Valkaro.

With predatory eyes, he scrutinized my face and body.

"Yes, up close, you do resemble her."

That bastard…

The translator barely finished repeating his words before fury surged through me.

"Let go! I'll kill you! Let go! I'll kill you, I swear—I'll kill you all!"

Valkaro snapped off one of his own fangs and drove it into my left cheek.

What was that?

The unbearable pain made me scream again. But it wasn’t just physical agony.

"That is the mark of the hunted."

The fang melted into my blood, merging with it, branding me.

A brand shaped like a person impaled on a spear, arms and legs dangling lifelessly.

The Uruk would hang their slaughtered victims in this manner, parading them as banners.

At the time, I didn't know—but this was the sigil of Valkaro’s clan, Valkrush. A mark feared not only by humans but by many Uruk tribes as well.

"Victory is everything to the Uruk. But a victory like this, against the legendary Crimson One, would be nothing but a joke."

"Shut up…"

"I have made you my prey. As long as you bear that mark, those who fear me will never harm you—unless you strike first."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Let me go! I'll cut you to pieces!"

How pathetic I must have looked.

To Valkaro. To his subordinates.

How laughable must I have been, thrashing and screaming like that?

"I’ll let you live. Go. Grow strong and come seek revenge for your mother. The only way to cleanse this disgraceful Kaltake is for me to kill you when you’re ready."

How pitiful was I, that he let me live?

How insignificant was I, that he pulled his axe from my mother’s body, gave orders to gather loot and the wounded, and marched north without a second glance?

I stood there, staring blankly at his retreating figure, until a searing, unbearable hatred ignited within me.

I will kill you…

That thought consumed my mind.

Perhaps I would have grabbed any weapon and charged after him.

Had my mother’s voice not stopped me.

"Kaisen."

I froze.

All rage, all hatred, all thoughts vanished.

I turned toward her as if entranced.

She was there, waiting.

"Come here, my son."

"Now…?"

"Please. I don’t have much time left."

A sharp pain pierced deep within my chest at those words.

No…

She wore her usual smile. But only the smile was the same.

Everything else was different.

She had never before sat there with a deep wound in her shoulder, bleeding endlessly into the sand.

"Come to me, Kaisen… quickly."

I finally moved.

One step, then another. Walking, stopping, running, stopping again.

Something clutched at my ankles.

My life. My happiness…

It felt as if reaching her would mean the end of everything.

As if my entire world would crumble the moment I reached her.

I hesitated, hesitated—then, finally, fell to my knees right before her.

She pulled me into her embrace.

"I’m so, so glad…"

She sighed.

Not a simple exhale, but a trembling, relieved breath, filled with longing.

"My most precious treasure in the world…"

I sobbed like a wounded animal caught in a trap.

The trap that ensnared me was reality.

A cruel snare with no escape.

"I’m sorry, my son. There’s so much I never gave you…"

Slowly.

Ever so slowly.

Like the most precious treasure in the world, she held me close.

Then, her arms fell limp into the sand.

Thud.

For the first time, my mother’s body leaned against mine.

She was heavy.

Her heartbeat faded.

Her breath stopped.

"M-Mom…?"

I barely managed to move my lips, whispering that name.

It felt as if the world was collapsing.

If I called her name…

If I just called her name…

Wouldn’t she answer, laughing as she always did?

Wouldn’t she smile and say, ‘What is it, my son?’

No answer came.

Not then, not ever again.

I called her name three more times before I finally broke down, clutching her lifeless body, wailing.

The world was always ironic.

On the day my mother protected her most precious treasure, her son lost his own.

Half a day.

A full day.

Two days.

I cried for two days straight before finally burying her.

On a seaside cliff overlooking the ocean.

A place she loved.

A place my father loved, too.

I remembered playing there with her as a child, laughing together.

Now, looking down at her grave, my world blurred and shattered.

My most precious treasure in the world.

I bit my lip. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

I had no idea where my sister Ratel was. She had likely died when the village burned.

I clenched my mother’s short sword so tightly my hands burned.

I will kill them all…

One by one, every last one…

I grabbed a shovel and covered the grave. I planted acorns on top.

One day.

Someday, when I return… I will find you again.

"Mom."

My voice cracked and broke.

Emotion choked my throat, leaving me unable to speak.

I took a deep breath, then finally forced out the words.

"I’ll be back."

From that day forward…

The endless summer began in my world.

"Kaisen Alter Aradamantel."

A voice from reality suddenly pierced through the shroud of memories.

The boy who had buried his mother in the earth and in his heart had become a white-haired young man. He lifted his head.

A crimson flash shimmered beautifully along the blade of his sword—

The Supreme Holy Sword, Aradamantel, reflecting the countless corpses of the Uruk before him.

"The Grand Marshal summons you."

With a swift motion, he flicked the blood off the sacred blade and sheathed it into its pristine scabbard with disciplined precision.

The world called him a Feiquaria.

Long ago, his mother had been called the same.

The final flame illuminating this collapsing world…

A false hero.

"Understood. I'll go at once."