The Last Place Hero’s Return - Chapter 3

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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 3. A Reason to Live (2)
Reynald Hero School.
Five hundred years ago, the Five Great Heroes who sealed away the Demon Lord.
Founded directly by Reynald Helios, the party’s leader and legendary swordmaster revered across the land, the school gathered eighteen-year-old youths who had awakened the “Holy Mark” through the blessings of the Seven Gods, transforming them into true heroes through four years of rigorous education.
Heroes were beings so vital that each one could sway the very power of a nation.
The three powers dividing the Continent—the Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Republic—competed relentlessly to acquire superior heroes, accepting anyone who had awakened the Holy Mark without question or hesitation.
Naturally, this created problems.
Cramming youths from different nations, different classes, and different backgrounds into a narrow school bred endless conflict between them.
Eventually, after consultation with numerous heroes and the three nations, Reynald Hero School was declared a complete “neutral zone.”
In other words.
“Within school grounds, no discrimination between nations or classes is permitted whatsoever.”
“…And?”
“It means that even if Iris is the Holy Kingdom’s saint, she is merely a candidate here.”
“What are you getting at?”
“A month is too long. Let’s reduce it to four days.”
“You little—!”
Professor Lucas, who had been listening quietly, grabbed the back of his neck.
“You were originally suspended for a week!”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And you caused trouble during your suspension, and now you want to shorten it to four days?”
“Isn’t it standard practice to ask high when negotiating?”
“What kind of madman causes trouble and then asks to reduce their suspension? And what? Negotiation? Do you think you’re in a position to negotiate with me?”
Professor Lucas stared at me with an expression of utter disbelief.
I smirked slightly and nodded softly.
“Professor Bianca’s birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Professor Bianca, who oversaw the Magic Department.
She was a female professor known to have a terrible relationship with Professor Lucas.
“…Why are you suddenly bringing up Professor Bianca’s birthday?”
But I knew the truth.
That this brutish Professor Lucas harbored a secret crush on Professor Bianca.
“Wouldn’t you like to know what kind of gift would make Professor Bianca happy?”
“Ha. Why would I need to know something like that?”
“Is that so? That’s unfortunate. If she received such a gift for her birthday, even someone she’d had a terrible relationship with might start to look different to her.”
“…”
I could see Professor Lucas’s pupils trembling faintly.
*Scrape.*
I pushed my chair back and stood up.
“Well… it seems you’re not particularly interested anyway, so I suppose I have no choice but to accept my punishment quietly.”
I lowered my head respectfully and turned to walk out of the professor’s office.
“…Wait.”
Professor Lucas’s voice reached my ears.
I turned around with a faint smile.
“What is it, Professor?”
“There’s a condition in exchange for reducing your suspension period.”
“If it’s something Professor Bianca would like….”
“No, not that.”
Professor Lucas continued, his sharp eyes piercing through me as if he could see right into my soul.
“Participate in tomorrow’s Warrior Department sparring class and win. That’s the condition.”
“Hmm. Who will my opponent be?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
The sparring proposal felt oddly sudden.
It wasn’t difficult to guess why Professor Lucas had made such an offer.
‘No matter how much he thinks about it, he won’t understand.’
Though it was a sudden ambush, the fact that someone once called the “blood-starved hunting hound” was knocked away disgracefully by a newly awakened candidate’s fist was extraordinary.
Camilla Bediche, who ranked so high among candidates that she was even mentioned as the next Sword of Holy Nation, had been subdued without even drawing her blade.
It was only natural that he’d want to verify directly what a mediocre candidate—let alone one ranked last in overall standings—had accomplished.
“Very well.”
“…You’re quite confident.”
“It’s merely a sparring match. There’s no reason to worry, is there?”
“Hmm.”
Professor Lucas swallowed a low groan and crossed his arms.
What on earth could this fellow have done wrong to change so drastically in a single day?
If he were asking, I would have found it difficult to answer.
Because I myself didn’t know why I had regressed.
“Then I’ll take my leave now.”
“Wait.”
“Is there something else you wish to say?”
“Ahem! Ahem!”
When I turned to face Professor Lucas, he cleared his throat repeatedly before carefully opening his mouth.
“So, what was that thing you mentioned earlier that Professor Bianca might like?”
“….”
As expected.
Beneath that rough exterior, he’s quite the romantic.
* * *
The next day.
Upon waking in the morning, I lay in bed for a while, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“It doesn’t seem like it was a lantern of the dying before death.”
Perhaps the time I spent wandering the Continent alone in pursuit of the Primordial Flame had been far too long.
I still couldn’t feel the reality of my regression.
“Sigh.”
I rose from the bed, finished washing my face lightly, and gazed at my reflection in the water-dampened mirror.
Eyes of emerald green set above hair the color of ash from burnt embers—a deep, silvery gray.
It had been an eternity since I last beheld my own face.
‘Nothing has changed about my appearance.’
It was only natural—since awakening the blessing of Resurrection, aging had ceased its relentless march.
I stared at my reflection for a moment longer, then changed into my candidate uniform and made my way toward the academy.
The form-fitting uniform still felt strangely alien against my skin.
As if this new life had been thrust upon me only moments ago.
* * *
“Surely you don’t mean to have me spar against that wretch?”
A delicate-featured candidate with disheveled blue hair narrowed his eyes in clear displeasure.
Felix Odman.
A fellow member of the Warrior Department and a third-year candidate ranked within the top hundred of the overall standings—a respectable position by any measure.
“Do you have an objection?”
“No, well… it’s not that, but…”
Felix, who had been whining incessantly, immediately tucked his tail between his legs at a single piercing glance from Professor Lucas.
“Fine. I understand.”
Felix exhaled a deep sigh and picked up a wooden practice sword.
“Hey, you bastard. Hurry up and grab a sword so we can get this over with.”
Felix glared at me with irritable eyes.
Since he attended a different class, he hadn’t witnessed firsthand yesterday’s ‘practical combat training’—neither when I sent Professor Lucas flying with a single punch nor when I subdued Camilla Bediche.
Yet despite how much it had become the talk of the academy, he didn’t seem particularly wary of me, even having heard what transpired.
Then again.
How could anyone easily believe that a perpetual last-place student had suddenly sent flying a professor renowned even among the faculty for his formidable prowess with a single punch, or had subdued the next Sword of Holy Nation with a single hand?
“Hey, did you hear? What did that bastard Dale do yesterday?”
“Oh, that? Isn’t it just a rumor?”
“No way! I saw it with my own eyes!”
The candidates who had gathered at news of my sparring match with Felix lit up with keen interest.
‘I feel like a monkey in a zoo.’
I turned to regard the candidates crowding around me and swallowed a bitter smile.
In my previous life, I had never received such fervent attention during my four years as a candidate.
‘Though I suppose I did draw some attention back then.’
But it was not the burning scrutiny I felt now—it was cold, glacial indifference.
“Hah.”
I exhaled a measured breath and grasped the wooden sword firmly.
The feel of the practice sword in my hands, which I hadn’t held in what felt like thousands of years, was not unpleasant.
It was like touching an old cherished toy from childhood after an age had passed.
“During this match, neither of you may use mana.”
“Ha, are you saying that without mana, I wouldn’t be able to beat this wretch?”
Felix let out a hollow laugh, as if the very suggestion was absurd.
Mana.
Called the breath of the divine, it was a power that only heroes who had awakened their stigmata could wield.
“Lucky you, right? After all, you don’t even have any forbidden mana to restrict, do you?”
Felix shot me a look brimming with mockery, his shoulders trembling with snickering laughter.
He was right.
My mana reserves fell short of even ten percent of the average candidate’s capacity.
‘Low mana has always been my chronic problem.’
During my days as a mercenary, my mana depleted so rapidly—faster than a rabbit’s droppings, as they said—that I’d earned the nickname “Rabbit Han.”
I swallowed a bitter smile, recalling all the humiliation and hardship I’d endured because of my insufficient mana.
‘Well, what do I do now?’
I tapped the floor with the tip of the wooden practice sword, lost in thought.
Yesterday I was so frantic that I acted recklessly without thinking.
But now is different.
I have a reason to live.
‘Then I need to decide how to live from now on.’
I fell into contemplation, listening to the soft tap, tap of the wooden sword striking the floor.
“Come on, fight me.”
My entire life.
I’ve only ever chased after others.
I’ve only ever walked staring at their backs.
“I said fight! Aren’t you listening, you bastard?”
Dale Han, the lowest-ranked hero.
Once a label was affixed, it clung to me relentlessly.
Even after my long years as a mercenary, when I finally gained some skill and was counted among the Last Five Heroes—humanity’s last hope—it remained the same.
“Ha, seriously. Look at this guy. You scared? Huh? You scared?”
I was always too busy chasing after others.
The path they walked.
The footprints they left behind.
I only ran desperately, gasping for breath, trying to catch up.
“Fine, if you won’t come, I’ll go instead, you bastard.”
And at the end of that path.
Only I remained.
Alone, utterly alone.
I wept bitterly upon the cold Snowy Wasteland where no one else was left.
“Go to hell, damn it!!!”
Never once did I lead anyone.
Never once did I extend my hand to anyone.
That’s how I lived.
That was the life Dale Han had lived until now.
—Tap.
I deflected Felix Odman’s blade with effortless grace as it swept toward me in fury.
My right foot stepped forward.
Pivoting on my right foot as my axis, I spun my body and drew the wooden sword upward in a sweeping arc from below.
The Solar Blade.
First Form, Initial Waning.
Crash!
With a thunderous roar that seemed impossible from a mere wooden sword, Felix Odman’s body was hurled backward violently, tumbling across the ground.
“Gack, hack, uuuuugh!”
Felix Odman rolled across the floor, clutching his stomach where the blow had landed squarely, and retched.
I tapped the ground with the tip of my extended wooden sword—tap, tap—and opened my mouth.
“What’s wrong? You said you’d come first. Why aren’t you coming?”
Then there’s no helping it.
“I’ll come to you instead.”
Now.
I would no longer live that way.

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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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