Among adventurers departing from the Adventurer’s Guild, many could cast buffs for their teams.

They were called "Scholars."

Primarily support roles in adventuring parties, yet crucial in pivotal moments.

To shorten the journey to meet the Hero,

Scholars from various teams silently chose Agility buffs.

Chanting spells, they enhanced Roy and the others.

Elemental mages followed suit, weaving "Zephyr’s Blessing"—

another speed-boosting spell.

Roy felt unusually light on his feet.

Each step floated like walking on the moon.

Glancing back, he saw two elemental mage girls smiling shyly at him.

Sighing inwardly, Roy returned a gentle, polite smile.

*Being this popular really isn’t my fault,* he thought.

With their help, the group reached Holy Cross Cemetery swiftly.

President Enlil couldn’t shake his unease.

*Why here?*

This ground held his former comrades.

Every year on this day, he’d lock himself in his office,

drinking wine that once tasted sweet but now turned bitter.

He never visited their graves.

A final, fragile hope lingered in his heart—

one that felt startlingly real when drunk.

He’d drift back to battles fifteen years past:

slaying monsters, conquering labyrinths and temples,

spending loot on wild adventures.

Standing firm to protect villages, even cities.

Until dawn sobered him.

Only then would he remember:

years had slipped by.

He’d married a merchant’s daughter.

His knee-high son now waved a wooden sword,

dreaming of becoming an adventurer.

Enlil could only smile wryly.

As Guild President, he no longer led teams.

Old friends lay beneath the earth.

The adventurer he once was rested in memory.

Yet the Hero’s arrival reignited his blood.

That’s why he trusted Roy.

He longed to see if the Hero matched his youthful ideals—

to witness the slain Demonfolk,

and judge if they outmatched the lions he’d once fought.

But Holy Cross Cemetery held only endless white gravestones.

Grass and wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze.

This was land where souls felt soaked through just by stepping on it.

Enlil’s eyes stung.

He remembered Lyra and Azer—

the golden-haired girl with a sunlit smile,

the boy who joked beside her to make her laugh.

He’d watched them grow, fall in love, marry,

raise two cherished daughters.

*Am I seeing things?*

Through the sunlit slope, a figure stood in the wind—

Lyra?

No. Lyra wasn’t a nun.

*Aisha?!*

Aisha waved at Roy, signaling her location.

Airi hid behind her sister’s robes,

peeking through the narrow gap at Roy.

Shy to the point of fear, Airi avoided everyone—

even Uncle Enlil.

Years bedridden had left her torn between curiosity and dread.

Though her curse was gone,

her heart still needed time to heal.

“Aisha! Airi!” Roy called out.

“Airi’s here too?!” Enlil gasped.

Roy shrugged. “She’s hiding behind Aisha.”

Her small frame made her nearly invisible.

Only sharp-eyed archers in the group spotted her.

Enlil, once a frontline tank, squinted hard.

Between Aisha’s arm and waist,

a pair of timid sky-blue eyes gleamed—

crystal-clear, carrying Lyra’s gentle shape.

“It’s really Airi! But how—?!”

Enlil’s breath hitched. Words failed him.

*Airi is standing.*

In that instant, her healed legs mattered more than any Hero.

Yet the Hero’s presence weighed heavily too.

As his excitement faded,

murmurs rose from the adventurers behind him.

“Where’s the Hero?!”

“Roy, did you lie to us?”

“If you tricked us, you’ll regret it!”

“Who’ll make him regret it?!” A female warrior stepped forward, axe raised. “I’ll protect Roy!”

“And me!” A slender archer joined her.

“Seriously?! He lied first! Ugh, this looks-obsessed world!”

“Roy’s kindness deserves protection—even without his face!”

“I’ll never forget how gently he applied herbs to my wounds, his eyes so focused!”

Enlil raised a hand, silencing the feud sparked by Roy’s pretty face.

“Enough! In his month at the Guild, Roy proved himself honest and kind. He wouldn’t lie. If he says the Hero appeared, believe him. Don’t you see the Demonfolk corpse over there? The Hero may have left.”

Roy interrupted, troubled. “The Hero… hasn’t left.”

Enlil frowned. “Then where? I see no one!”

Roy smiled softly, pointing to where Aisha and Airi stood.

He delivered the impossible truth:

“Aisha and Airi—they are the Hero.”