Man of the Cloth

Every boy has dreamt of being a hero, blinded by fortune and fame, naive to the true weight that the title of "Hero" carries. I was 14 when I first experienced the true significance of what it meant to be a hero

a Hero's death

…

I stood there, patiently waiting for our turn to enter the dungeon. Although our party members were randomly selected by the academy, we had managed to form a basic party structure.

Sarah, the shield maiden, exuded an aura of strength and grace. Her tall, slender figure belied the toned muscles beneath her feminine exterior. With a large shield strapped to her back and a staff adorned with a mace head in her hand, she embodied valor and reliability.

Clark, the swordsman, carried an air of indifference and a tinge of displeasure on his face. Despite his high ranking in the academy and military background, it was clear that he held little regard for our team. His nonchalant demeanor left a sense of detachment lingering in the air.

As for the rest of us, we were a group of mediocrity. We fit the cookie-cutter mold of our respective classes and held low ranks within the academy. Yet, there was a part of me that wondered if they too had been like me, hiding their potential and preferring to stay within the veil of mediocrity.

With a discerning eye, I assessed our group, analyzing our collective strengths and weaknesses. The presence of two seeded members, Sarah and Clark, provided a glimmer of hope for our chances of success. However, it was up to me, as the healer and party leader, to guide us through the challenges that lay ahead.

"Let's move," I commanded, sensing that it was finally our turn to enter the dungeon. With a determined stride, our party ventured forth into the unknown.

The initial floors of the dungeon posed little challenge, with only a few goblins and slimes scattered about. Having honed our hunting skills in the academy, we were accustomed to such encounters. Despite our tender age of 14, the act of taking lives was not unfamiliar to us.

However, as we continued our descent into the labyrinthine depths, a critical mistake unfolded. Chris, our mage, inadvertently triggered a trap before Tama, the "mediocre" huntress, could disable it. The sound of a resounding click reverberated through the chamber, leaving a palpable sense of impending danger.

"Shit." I muttered under my breath, realizing the gravity of our situation as we found ourselves hurtling into a pit, plunging deeper into the treacherous dungeon.

"Gather formation six," I commanded, maintaining my composure despite the chaotic situation. Panic filled the air as we landed in an unfamiliar chamber, disoriented and separated from the marked path we were supposed to follow, according to the academy's instructions.

As we surveyed our surroundings, a chilling realization settled in. Before us, a vast cavern stretched out, dominated by a chained beast—an awe-inspiring and terrifying creature with two menacing horns atop its head. Positioned in front of the creature were four glowing shards, emanating a soft, pulsating light.

"Return stones," Clark gasped, his eyes gleaming with recognition.

Before we could fully process the situation, a mischievous voice echoed throughout the cavern, sending shivers down our spines. "Fufu fufu~" it chuckled. "Hello, young ones. Welcome to my little trial. One of you must face my adorable pet here in a battle to the death, while the rest may seek refuge through those stones."

The voice remained unknown, its origin concealed within the shadows of the cavern. Its tone carried a twisted amusement, as if deriving pleasure from our predicament.

As we grappled with the weight of the situation and the unsettling revelation, our thoughts were abruptly shattered by a sudden movement. It was Clark, driven by an impulsive urge, dashing towards one of the glowing return stones. His hand snatched it with urgency, clutching it tightly in his grip. But before our eyes, the stone shattered into fragments, engulfing him in a blinding light. In an instant, Clark vanished from the room, leaving us in a state of stunned disbelief.

A heavy atmosphere settled upon us, a collective sense of oppression washing over our remaining party members. The reality of our situation became all too apparent—we were now one member short.

After the shock subsided, a palpable tension hung in the air as we exchanged wary glances. Clark's impulsive action had caused a rift within our party, and the weight of his decision now bore heavily upon us.

In the midst of the ensuing silence, Sarah, her voice filled with determination, broke the deadlock. "You two leave," she commanded, her unwavering gaze fixed upon us. "Vincent, you stay."

Chris and Tama, their faces etched with a mix of guilt and relief, seized the opportunity presented by Sarah's decision. They dashed towards the remaining return stones, crushing them with a resounding finality. Their departure was marked by contrasting emotions, as if they had been released from the burden of an unbearable weight.

Sarah and I locked eyes, neither of us willing to avert our gazes. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as we stood poised for what lay ahead.

"Vincent, please listen," Sarah spoke softly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

"All ears," I replied, my nonchalant demeanor contrasting with the guarded stance of my body.

With a shaky breath, Sarah began to speak. Her words carried a mix of apprehension and conviction. "Take this and leave. Tell my family what happened. As a braveheart, I have a duty to protect the weak." She reached into her belongings and tossed a necklace into my waiting hand.

"Oh..." I muttered, slightly stunned by the unexpected gesture. I examined the necklace, and as I looked back at Sarah, a refreshing sense of clarity washed over me, allowing me to truly see her for the first time—her dark black hair, sword-like eyebrows, and hazel eyes reflecting a blend of fear and unwavering resolve.

"I see..." I spoke, my voice filled with understanding. Without hesitation, I placed the necklace around my neck and began walking toward the last remaining stone. As I picked it up, a flicker of apprehension passed through Sarah's trembling body, causing her shoulders to slump slightly.

"You seem to be mistaken, Sarah..." I uttered.

She was about to respond, but before she could continue, she felt a sensation on her forehead. Her voice trailed off as her gaze fixated on my empty hand, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

"Why..." she managed to whisper, her voice choked with emotions, as the light wrapped around her body, signaling her departure.

I met her gaze, a genuine smile playing upon my lips.

"I was never weak."