This World Needs a Hero

Chapter 20

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Gulp.

The children stared at the Hero, tirelessly drinking.

It was already the fourth bottle.

“Professor, if you consume more, it might strain your mana core….”

“It’s okay.”

Despite his assistant’s dissuasion, he diligently emptied the fifth bottle. Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.𝘤𝑜𝓂 for the best novel reading experience

Then, without any signs of disarray, he approached Gerald and handed him the detoxification potion.

“Drink. The effect will kick in within a minute. Once mana starts circulating, we begin.”

“W-What is this?”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to be properly evaluated?”

Gerald’s eyes narrowed.

The Hero’s intentions were clear.

‘…W-Wait, is he really going to face me directly?’

It seemed likely.

Gerald’s eyes alternated between the detoxification potion and the Hero, then he hastily swallowed it.

“Is this for real….”

“No, If I knew it would be like this, I would’ve bluffed like that guy.”

The normally quiet classroom began to buzz.

Gerald’s heart pounded against his ribs as he saw envy in the children’s eyes.

‘…A sparring match against the Hero. Naturally, victory is out of the question.’

It was an incredible feat even with his mana sealed.

Gerald wasn’t stupid enough to hope for something ridiculous like victory.

‘But, at least I won’t embarrass myself.’

The Hero was human too.

If he ingested this terrifying potion, there was no way he could use mana.

‘Just show an impressive appearance.’

For the future competitors watching.

Above all, for the Hero.

Demonstrating his true abilities was possible.

That was enough.

“Are you ready?”

Gerald nodded with determination brimming in his eyes.

The mana that couldn’t be felt earlier in the mana core began to circulate slowly within him.

A powerful vitality surged.

“I’m ready.”

“Use the weapon you brought.”

He had no intention of facing the Hero with a practice spear or the like.

Gripping the sturdy spear, Gerald wore a resolute expression.

The dense blue mana brightly colored its tip.

Wooong!

The Hero also drew his sword.

At the sight of that dark blade, Gerald’s tension reached its limit in the blink of an eye.

“Just know, I will never tolerate you giving up on the duel”

Give up?

There was no way that would happen.

‘I’ll show everyone who I am.’

Determined, Gerald shot forward fiercely.

* * *

He would demonstrate his true capabilities to the arrogant student who dared to disrupt his class.

Most students misunderstood the Hero’s motivation for wielding his sword in that manner.

As a result, they anticipated a chaotic scene.

Clang!

“He’s holding on his own quite well?”

Clang! clang!

“Isn’t Gerald pushing back?”

“Was he this skilled?”

The students watched the intense duel with puzzled expressions.

Clang! clang! clang!

The duel didn’t end quickly.

No, it seemed the Hero had no intention of bringing it to a close.

He simply deflected and repelled Gerald’s attacks with unwavering eyes.

Clang! clang! clang! clang!

The standoff continued.

“…Why is he dragging it out like this?”

Someone finally spoke with an impatient tone, addressing the students’ perplexity.

“Why drag it on? Can’t you tell just by looking?”

Luke looked at the students with a disdainful expression.

Though they all shrank under his gaze, one person with emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity asked.

“I don’t know… Can you tell me?”

“Even if I did, you won’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“Look at their tempos. They’re completely synchronized.”

“Tempo?”

In music, tempo defines the speed of a piece.

In combat, tempo encompassed not only speed but also breathing, timing, gaps, and more.

According to Luke’s perception, the Hero was perfectly following Gerald’s tempo.

Evergreen widened her eyes in admiration.

“Wow, you can tell just by looking? You’re really amazing.”

“It’s basic.”

“So, what happens if their tempos are exactly the same?”

“If the tempos are completely the same… well.”

In a fight, victory or defeat usually hinged on disrupting the opponent’s tempo.

Pull them into your own tempo, force inefficient movements, and exploit the vulnerabilities exposed.

That was the essence of combat.

However, if someone with overwhelming skill completely dominated the opponent’s tempo…

“…The fight won’t end in the climax.”

Evergreen seemed to have realized something.

“Wow, Gerald must be struggling!”

“Yeah, it’s like playing rock-paper-scissors with a mirror.”

The fight that should have ended long ago continued.

As Gerald’s exhausted spear slowed and became less precise, the Hero’s sword also slowed and became less accurate.

The timing of their breaths, the extension of their legs for propulsion, the power infused into their weapons, and even the gaps between their attacks were all identical.

“Perfect balance consumes far more energy than overwhelming dominance because it does not tolerate either side’s superiority.” Probably, the Hero intends to test Gerald’s limits in this manner.”

In truth, Luke, who was explaining it, also doubted if such a thing was possible.

It wasn’t as if they had been sparring for years; this was their first encounter.

No matter how skilled one was, could they maintain such precise analysis in real time?

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‘Ridiculous.’

Rescuing Luke from these thoughts was a lively voice.

Evergreen, with a smirk on her face, was thanking him, “Thanks for explaining! I thought you were really gruff, but you’re kind.”

“…”

Clang!

The sound of Gerald’s spear soaring high into the air grabbed her attention as she missed Luke’s ridiculing look.

* * *

Initially, Gerald felt the Hero was giving him an opportunity.

Ample time was given to pour out all his capabilities.

‘Actually, the professor wanted to see my full strength.’

But he realized something was amiss right after his magic ran out.

‘When is this going to end?’

In his hazy and long-forgotten view, the Hero swung the sword again.

The swordsmanship was unbelievably poor, but Gerald’s lance wasn’t much different.

Clang!

“Just know, I will never tolerate you giving up on the duel”

The Hero’s previously closed mouth opened.

Gerald finally realized why the Hero said that.

‘I thought I could show off a bit.’

Slowly being devoured, he didn’t even consider recovering the exhausted magic.

However, the hero’s subtle control delayed the end of the match.

The pain and heat, almost unbelievable, felt like an eternity.

‘It feels like a sprint to the finish line, but the finish line is running away.’

Gerald, unable to continue, was about to shout his surrender.

The Hero’s mouth, closed throughout the spar, finally opened.

“Mana is never infinite.”

It was a voice without any hint of wavering.

To Gerald, he felt like a monster that defied common sense.

How was this possible?

Wasn’t his magic sealed?

“But, monsters rushing like a pack on the battlefield are close to infinite.”

Again, his sword flew at a slow pace.

Gerald barely parried it, but that alone drained his remaining stamina.

“You should be able to fight freely for about 10 minutes. As you become more proficient with mana, you can probably fight for 30 minutes.”

Gerald felt like his heart was about to burst.

He thrust the spear desperately, a stab so crude it was hard to believe it was his own.

“But what about half a day? Or a whole day?”

Clang!

The spear was lightly deflected.

It bounced off like a fish and rolled on the ground, escaping its owner’s grip.

‘Now, it’s over.’

Gerald paid no attention to the gazes of his peers.

It was finally over.

He collapsed, clutching his swollen hand, and gasped for breath.

“…Huuk, huuk.”

The Hero approached.

Startled, Gerald recoiled.

“It’s not over.”

“When your innards are pulled out by a monster that could have been killed with a single slash, only then will it finally be over.”

The sword was raised.

“How does it feel to face the consequences of complacency and arrogance?”

He swung the sword down towards Gerald’s forehead as the low, ominous words ended.

Even if this was the Hero’s first time holding the sword seriously, the strike appeared to be routine.

Whoosh!

Gerald’s eyes widened, following the slow and rugged trajectory.

If he had even a small amount of stamina left, he could have easily dodged the attack.

However, he couldn’t move a single finger, staring at the metal lump aiming for his forehead.

He was engulfed in an intense emotion he didn’t know existed within himself.

“Ah…”

The sword was poised right above his forehead.

Gerald naturally knew he wouldn’t be killed.

But at the moment the greatsword descended to strike, the suffocating feeling squeezing his heart was real.

Fear froze his mind.

It was a raw brutality he felt for the first time since birth.

“Perfect, complete, critical. Such words are nothing but illusions on the battlefield. You will fight surprisingly fast, frequently, and at the edge of your limits.”

The Hero’s gaze shifted from Gerald to the students he had been observing.

“…So, use it, but don’t depend on it.”

Whether it was mana or any other force, the words applied equally.

The students seemed to have grasped a bit more of what this lecture was trying to convey.

“No pitiful deaths will be allowed for you.”

With that, more intense training resumed, even fiercer than before.

However, no student complained this time.

* * *

Rysel, covered in dirt and sweat all over, lay on the bed curled up.

“Exhausted…”

She repeated aloud.

“It’s tough.”

Rysel looked at her hands.

The fingers, soaked in water, were trembling.

The ‘Extreme’ orientation that began in the classroom eventually moved to the training ground.

Sparring and more sparring.

Once the sparring was roughly concluded, the next step was endurance training.

Even if they collapsed, there was no sympathy.

Remembering the Hero pouring detox potion into their exhausted mouths, Rysel shook her head.

“When magic starts circulating, stamina will recover. Then take the magic-nullifying potion again.”

A stern voice.

Devoid of any sympathy for the exhausted students rolling on the floor like return slips.

“Does this person train like this every day?”

Even Rysel, who prided herself on not neglecting physical training, couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the intensity.

Since she tried not to show signs of exertion as much as possible, she ended up rolling even more.

“Phew.”

Rysel slowly rose.

The feeling of wanting to just fall asleep right there was too much, but there was still work to be done.

The room, dizzyingly reflected in her large pupils, was filled with discarded clothes like rubble, textbooks from various classes, and miscellaneous snack wrappers.

Ignoring the room’s disastrous state, Rysel focused on the desk.

Inside a locked drawer was a large wooden box, also secured with a lock.

Click!

Creak!

Inside were about a dozen diaries, heavily stained, and a set of fairly old-looking brushes.

Various small odds and ends were also revealed.

There was nothing expensive, but warmth rarely seen in Rysel’s eyes was evident as she looked at them.

“…”

Rysel’s hand, originally heading towards the diary that looked the newest, hesitated and turned towards the deep recesses of the box.

“Eczo.”

Ignoring the scent of old dust, Rysel cautiously extended her head.

“Today, Grandma praised me for improving with the sword, I have to work even harder from now on.”

“I won first place in the swordsmanship competition, even though the other person was older and bigger than me.”

“Grandma really liked it, she pretended not to, but I saw her smiling.”

“I have to prepare for the next competition right away.”

Flipping through quickly.

“Grandma’s expression hasn’t been good for several days. Is it because of my older brother?”

Today, even though she didn’t ask, I practiced from morning till dawn. If it were usual, she would have surely patted my head.”

The hand flipping the diary slowed down.

“Grandma didn’t come to the training ground, but I kept practicing.”

“Don’t think too deeply, if I do better, if I work hard, she’ll teach me again.”

The next few pages were stained.

“Why?”

“They called me a prodigy who could summon spirits just by looking at me.”

“Disappointing someone, seems really scary.”

Rysel closed the old diary.

She didn’t feel particularly sad or angry.

Just a bit bland.

“It was good.”

Like any ordinary grandmother and granddaughter, choosing stuffed animals at the market or reading fairy tales until falling asleep at night.

Such tender moments did not exist for them.

But it didn’t matter.

Late at night, swinging the sword on the training ground, Grandma’s passionate eyes reflected on the blade were good enough for her.

The rough, wrinkled hands that applied soothing ointment between blisters were also good.

As long as those empty eyes devoid of anticipation weren’t there, everything was fine.

“Is the sword still good?”

When she said she would go to the Rosenstark, it was what her grandma said to her.

It was a question that she hadn’t answered yet.

Rysel closed the old diary.

Quite an eventful day.

But, Rysel had no one to share her thoughts with.

For this reason, as always, the diary became her friend again.

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