The Last Place Hero’s Return - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 1. The Snowy Wasteland (1)
I walk an endless life.
A snow-covered wasteland.
Across the pristine white expanse, a long trail of footprints stretched out as if painted by a brush.
“Hah… hah…”
Breath rising to my chin.
In a cold so bitter my lungs threaten to freeze, I stumble forward with wavering steps.
Beyond the blizzard-swept wasteland, a faint flame flickers in the distance.
“Found… it.”
How much time has passed since I began wandering in search of the Primordial Flame?
Centuries? Millennia? Perhaps more than ten thousand years have slipped away.
So much time has elapsed that counting years has become meaningless.
The memories of those endless days—dragging this undying body across the entire Continent, searching desperately—flashed through my mind.
“Hah.”
I first realized I could not die during my third year at the Hero Academy, during a practical training exercise.
A demonic beast burst suddenly from the brush and tore into my neck with a sickening crunch.
My severed head rolled across the ground.
I thought what a wretched life this was and closed my eyes.
‘How did I come back to life?’
Yes.
I lived.
I did not die.
My torn-off head had reattached itself to my shoulders, and my body, shredded by the beast’s claws, had returned to perfect condition as if nothing had happened.
That was when I first understood.
Ah.
I would never be able to end my own life.
‘Well, in the end, things turned out exactly as I feared.’
472nd out of 472.
I graduated from the Hero Academy at the bottom of my class and became a lowly mercenary, rolling across battlefields.
When demonic beasts and demons ravaged the entire Continent, turning it to ruin.
When war erupted between the Empire’s heroes and the Republic’s heroes.
When the Witch of Night transformed half the Continent into a frozen wasteland.
When I became one of the Last Five Heroes, humanity’s final hope.
When my comrades and I faced the Demon God in our final battle.
When the Demon God took his own life, and the curse he scattered destroyed all of humanity.
I survived.
Only I survived.
Bound to the hem of this wretched existence.
Struggling.
Clawing forward.
I had survived.
“Now… that’s finally over.”
I stepped toward the flames blazing within the howling blizzard.
The Primordial Fire.
The fire said to have burned the Tree of Creation—the mythical artifact that shaped the world in ages past and birthed the Seven Gods.
How many endless years had I wandered the Continent searching for this product of legend, uncertain whether it even truly existed?
One step forward.
As I moved toward the roaring flames.
Boom!
The earth trembled, and something massive burst through the accumulated snowdrifts.
A golem constructed from intricate mechanical components.
An ancient Guardian—one I had grown weary of encountering while chasing the remnants of myth across the Continent.
Whoosh! Crack!
The Guardian’s arm lashed out, striking my body.
My head crushed, my body compressed.
My limbs twisted at grotesque angles, and spilled entrails painted the pristine snow crimson with blood.
Instant death with no hope whatsoever.
Even a “Hero” blessed by the Seven Gods and granted superhuman strength could not survive such a fatal wound.
“Hah.”
The mangled flesh crumbled into gray ash, scattering across the white Snowy Wasteland.
The stigma carved above my left chest blazed with light.
From that stigma, my crushed body reformed to its original state.
In the blink of an eye, I—resurrected—drew my sword from my waist with practiced motion.
A single blade cut through the fierce blizzard.
There was no aura so blinding it burned the eyes.
There was no sound that shook the very axis of the earth.
Like water flowing naturally, my blade slipped between the Guardian’s armor and cleaved its core in half.
Crash!
The ancient sentinel that had guarded this sanctuary for eons fell with pathetic ease.
-Clap clap clap!
Applause echoed as the Guardian collapsed.
I turned my head toward the sound.
“That was a magnificent strike.”
“…Yuren.”
A young man with golden hair that shone brilliantly like the sun.
With a slender frame and androgynous features that blurred the line between male and female, he approached me with a faint smile.
“You used to struggle so much with wielding a sword back then.”
“I learned a lot from you.”
I continued with a quiet chuckle.
“Perhaps by now I’ve come closer to the ‘pinnacle’ of the Sun Blade than you have?”
“What, seriously? You want to try me?”
“Anytime.”
I shrugged my shoulders, goading Yuren, when—
“Ahahaha! Felling that massive Guardian in a single blow! You’re the best, brother!”
A towering man in a tattered robe approached, his booming laughter ringing out like a bell.
He grinned widely, patting my shoulder with a palm as broad as a pot lid.
“Lately you’ve been using nothing but that sword. I hope you haven’t forgotten the martial arts I taught you.”
“Don’t worry, Berald. I remember everything.”
How could I forget?
The martial arts he’d patiently drilled into me without a single harsh word, despite how hopelessly uncoordinated I once was.
“Hmph. Yet you haven’t used a single spell I taught you.”
Following Berald came a petite woman wielding an enormous staff.
Her wide-brimmed pointed hat and blazing red hair left quite an impression.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. Magic is just…”
“I know. With your pathetic mana reserves, you can’t cast proper spells. I’m just venting.”
“But I’ve done a lot of theoretical research. I even solved all but one of those ‘Three Riddles of the Great Sage’ you used to go on about.”
“How amusing. Do you think magic works on theory alone?”
“…”
Funny—she used to insist that perfect theory was the very essence of magic.
I swallowed the words rising to my lips and chuckled softly.
Yuren, Berald, Sophia.
As I glanced at the faces of my comrades who’d walked through countless battlefields together—
“…Are you feeling alright?”
A warm voice, gentle enough to melt the frozen Snowy Wasteland, brushed against my ears.
“Iris.”
A woman with pale pink hair, dressed in pristine white priestess robes.
Even with her eyes hidden behind a black blindfold, her exposed nose, lips, and jawline radiated breathtaking beauty.
Iris approached with worry etched across her face and gently placed her hand over the stigma carved into my left chest.
“You mustn’t be so reckless with your body.”
“It doesn’t matter—I’ll just come back to life anyway.”
“But you still feel the pain just the same!”
As always.
Iris scolded me in a sorrowful voice.
Instead of answering, I gently pulled her waist toward me and kissed her.
“Really! You always brush past things like this!”
Iris protested, her cheeks flushed like peaches.
I turned away from her with a faint smile.
I took another step toward the distant, roaring flames.
“…That’s the Primordial Flame, right?”
Yuren asked, stepping up beside me.
I finally nodded.
“We found it at last.”
“Took long enough.”
It had been an unbearably long journey.
“Come on! We’re almost there, brother!”
“Why aren’t you moving faster? Let’s go!”
Spurred on by my companions’ urging, I quickened my pace.
After a few more minutes of walking.
A crackling roar.
In the endless expanse of the Snowy Wasteland.
I stood before a flame burning with brilliant radiance.
“…It’s smaller than I imagined.”
A tiny ember no larger than a fist.
Yet the immeasurable power emanating from within it unmistakably proved that this small flame was indeed a product of myth.
“But isn’t it strange? That such a fist-sized ember contains the power to incinerate stigmata.”
No answer came.
“What happens when the stigmata burn away and vanish?”
No answer came.
“Then they won’t come back to life, even if they die, right?”
The answer that came back.
Was nothing.
“Why did everyone suddenly go silent….”
When I turned my head toward where my companions had been standing, my eyes met only an empty Snowy Wasteland.
A howling blizzard.
Silence descending like a curtain.
Pure white.
A pure white world.
“….”
Yes.
I knew.
I knew, but I had simply turned away from it.
That there was no one left in this world to hear my words.
“Hah.”
With a hollow laugh, I sat down on a nearby stone and opened the bundle strapped to my back.
Countless long years.
My most precious treasures, which I had carried throughout that vast expanse of time where even the soul would wear away.
“Yuren.”
I planted a worn sword into the ground.
“You were the greatest hero and swordsman I ever knew.”
Because of the courage I learned from you.
I am here.
“Berald.”
This time, I set down the tattered robe.
“At first, I thought you were mad—a mage from the Magic Ministry swinging your fists instead of casting spells. But the theory you spoke of was right. To reach the pinnacle of martial arts, one must indeed master magic as well.”
Because I learned perseverance from you.
I am here.
“Sophia.”
I set down the broken staff.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t use the magic you taught me so diligently.”
Because I learned wisdom from you.
I am here.
“And….”
The last thing remaining in my bundle.
My hand trembles as I grip the black blindfold.
“Iris.”
A memory that will never fade.
I remember the softness of your lips.
I cherish the warmth of your skin against mine.
“Thank you for loving someone like me.”
Because I learned love from you.
I am here.
“Hah.”
A low breath escapes me.
I grasp the brilliant, burning flame in both hands.
Slowly, I bring the fire toward the stigma carved into my left chest.
“….”
I remember.
Those precious ones who became my only family, to me who grew up not even knowing my parents’ faces.
The friend who was braver than anyone.
The sibling who was more steadfast than anyone.
The senior who was wiser than anyone.
And.
The lover who was kinder than anyone.
“…Ah.”
The emotions I had suppressed deep within my heart.
Surge forth like a torrent.
“Ah, ugh.”
There was so much I wanted to say.
But there was nothing I could say.
In the Snowy Wasteland where no one listens.
My bestial cries scattered into the swirling snowflakes, dissolving into the howling wind.
—Whoooosh!
Brilliant flames consumed the stigma, seeping deep into my body.
And then.
* * *
“Dale! Dale!”
A fierce roar struck my ears.
‘What?’
Who was calling my name?
“Daring to sleep in my class—you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?”
Whoosh!
A palm the size of a cauldron lid came swinging toward me with the sound of air being torn apart.
Before my mind could process it.
My body moved first.
—Crack!
I seized the swinging wrist, pulled it toward me, and drove my clenched fist into the solar plexus.
The moment my knuckles connected, I detonated the mana coursing through them in a violent burst.
Explosive force.
The combat technique Berald had taught me flowed out as naturally as water.
Boom! Crack! Crunch!
The mysterious man flew backward with the deafening impact, crashing through the desk and tumbling across the floor.
“….”
“….”
Then came the silence.
I turned to face the students, their mouths agape in shock, and furrowed my brow.
“…Huh?”
Where the hell am I?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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