To put it simply, the birth of a Hero might go something like this.
Humans weren’t the first beings on Earth. When they appeared, they didn’t even realize they existed.
They had intelligence, but it was incomplete—like emotionless machines. All they knew was work. The only major difference was understanding mating to reproduce.
Like most mammals, humans didn’t grasp their own greatness.
But nature’s law—survival of the fittest—taught them they weren’t masters here. Before eagles, lions, tigers, crocodiles, and sharks, humans were helpless prey.
Harsh weather also threatened them. Few knew to weave warming leaves into “clothes.”
So they lived cautiously. Learning from companions’ sacrifices, they sought survival methods.
Then, humans realized they possessed intelligence.
One clever human saw ants carrying food in formation. A spark of insight struck him. He gathered others, using gestures to say: Unite against threats.
Thus, humans began living in groups.
How? Through division of labor.
For example: You hunt and bring prey to the cave. You make fire to cook it. You weave leaves into “clothes” for winter warmth. You patrol the camp for dangers.
Later, he discovered roasting food with fire, crafting simple tools from stone and wood.
Interestingly, this division boosted communication and efficiency. They happily earned rewards through labor. Food tasted especially delicious when shared.
For the first time, humans felt deserved satisfaction alongside shared meals.
The one who suggested this became “the smartest among them.” Even without working, he received food.
But peace didn’t last. Without strict rules, some grew tired of this life. “I get food just by staying at my post,” many thought. Disagreements arose.
Hunting and weaving required skill and strength. When they realized the truth, they lashed out at lazy freeloaders.
Humans clashed for the first time.
One day, the human who first proposed group living had a new idea.
“If I get food without working, could I become an authority? Command others? Set rules? Gather supporters to enforce them?”
He shared this through gestures.
No one agreed. No one backed him. Some grew furious. They’d built this life through hard work. They’d forgotten how it began.
But he meant no harm—he only wanted to serve better. Yet others thought: We hunted, we wove. Sharing food was generous enough. Now you demand more? You’re no different from the lazy ones.
The bold human faced rejection. First scorned, then beaten.
Slowly, his contributions faded from memory. His figure vanished from sight.
When children asked, “Why do we live together?” no one recalled the reason.
Years later, disaster struck.
A lazy guard’s neglect let a starving tiger sneak into camp. Strong men were out hunting. Only weary guards, frail women, and children remained.
The sleeping guards became the tiger’s meal. As women and children faced death, a stranger appeared.
He held a bright, blazing torch. Calmly, he stepped toward the tiger. Eyes wide, face flushed red—he looked like a demon from hell in the firelight.
Women and children thought he’d be eaten. But the fierce tiger stepped back first. Its limbs trembled. A low “whimper” escaped its throat—proof of fear.
Then, the torchbearer let out a fierce roar. The tiger spun around and fled into the forest.
He saved them. To thank him, women approached. Just as they gathered around to meet this brave human, he silently dropped the torch and chased the tiger into the woods.
He was the same human once rejected—the one who first proposed group living and invented useful tools. Time had erased his deeds. No one remembered his story. Few even knew he still lived.
Among the group, a tale spread: A great human saved their wives and children with wisdom and courage. They praised him through gestures, passing down the story.
Children only heard of “the great one.” His name, his past—lost.
No one knew his fate. Eaten by forest beasts? Starved to death? Buried in a winter blizzard?
This… was likely humanity’s first Hero.
…
“Okay, okay, I get it—I get it. My bad for asking you to explain Hero history… Seriously, brother, how much do you hate Heroes…”
“I hate this job so much that I used classic counter-argument logic to show how Heroes…”
“Alright, alright… I know… Go shower and sleep. Or you’ll oversleep again tomorrow…”
To describe the scene:
As a chatty man’s story neared its climax, a silver-haired girl beside him grew impatient. She jumped up from her stool, shoving him out of her room.
“Wait—this is the best part! Let me finish, Ruoshui! Ruoshui!”
Though calling him “brother,” she acted rudely. After slamming the door, she sighed in relief. Ignoring his complaints outside, she leaned weakly against the door, rubbing her forehead.
The girl was Bai Ruoshui. True to her name, she was 13, unemployed, and lived with her brother. At 154 cm tall, her petite frame matched her age—still growing.
She wore a loose pink crop top, a beige skirt printed with rose petals, and brown slippers. Her silver-white hair hung loosely down her back. Sapphire-blue eyes gleamed in her perfectly symmetrical face—a sight that could make anyone gush.
The other… the man now shut out, looking helpless, was her brother—Bai Ming.
He wore a simple white-and-blue shirt with a “monster” logo, dark blue shorts. Only someone who “couldn’t care less about looks, as long as it’s comfy” would dress like this. His thick, cheap flip-flops screamed casual living. Bai Ming was, in his own way, living a man’s life.
Notably, “Bai Ming” sounded unmanly—more like a girl’s name. This troubled him deeply.
At 170 cm tall, he had big, watery eyes, golden pupils, fair skin, and long, sleek black hair. Anyone with normal taste would mistake him for a girl.
“Ah… ah… Seriously… What’s so great about being a Hero?”
He clasped his hands behind his back, hunched like an old man. Shaking his head, he shuffled downstairs. His sighs filled the air with sadness and resignation.
Now, Bai Ming—once a Hero—complained: Why must the word “Hero” even exist?
