Volume 1: Prologue

What is a hero?

When asked this question, many people struggle to define what it means to be a hero.

An individual who puts themselves in danger to save others, or a person who fights for the protection of others or of society as a whole.

I've had these questions circling around in my head since I was a kid.

Supernatural stories fascinated me, and if there was a monster or villain, a hero would come swooping in to save the day.

Who, though, in the eyes of a soldier, assumes the mantle of a hero?

No one.

On the battlefield, no one is invincible; any second, a stray bullet could render your body still and your eyesight useless.

When your side appears to be losing, it is common for you to completely lose your cool as a soldier.

This is an ideal circumstance for me.

At the ripe old age of 23, it's safe to assume that I've reached my physical and mental peak.

My body is strong, my hair is short and faded, and my bangs are swept behind my ears; my eyes are so dark and serious that they would frighten off any hungry predator.

A model of perfection in a soldier.

The countries of Boona and Cane have been at war with one another as of late.

Both of their militaries are formidable.

As luck would have it, I entered this world in the little nation of Nibua, which sits smack in the middle between the two giants.

Nibua is a lowly third world nation with a currency value that is just shy of the global median.

What's more, the fact that it can produce new human beings appears to be the country's main redeeming feature.

In other words, the country's population has grown to the point where it outnumbers the landmass.

The state of the country is, needless to say, hopeless. Okay, I'm screwed.

Where I ought to be is amongst college students, gawking at the ladies and, if I'm lucky, feasting on them.

What's more, I'm confident in my ability to succeed.

When I look at myself, I see a very gorgeous man.

If I were a woman, I'd want to be with me.

But it was all for naught, as the opportunity to enjoy that sweetness was lost.

The war has deprived me of even the most basic pleasures.

My peak of life, my youth.

The whole thing is very tragic.

Nibua mandated that all men over the age of 18 serve in the armed forces and become "heroes" for the society.

A hero? What exactly am I expected to do with that label "?

If I gave up my perfect existence in this shithole nation, would I get paid?

Which would be more likely: ladies or fame?

No.

Anyway, it's irrelevant.

For the simple reason that right now.

I'm fucked.

The tone of battle was often lightened in films and television shows.

Simply pointing the rifle at the enemy seems like the simplest solution.

Bullshit.

The countless hours I spent perfecting my skills at the joystick and keyboard in Apex Heroes were for waste.

We are under intense pressure.

I could feel the mood of my fellow soldiers turning grim.

Damn…

…I think this is it.

As expected, this happened.

We were cornered after a crushing defeat. All of our arms were bound together. Assembled in a straight line

Consecutive coughs from the pistol emitted bloody corpses.

The sluggish passage of time has made the mounting tension of anticipation seem all the more intense.

I began to experience philosophical ramblings.

What exactly are these so-called "heroes"?

Heroes in cartoons were depicted as appearing at the last possible moment.

However, truth and fiction are vastly different.

That can't be right.

This is totally unfair.

All I wanted to do in my twenties was have a good time.

Just to have fun, be well-liked, and have attractive women clamoring to be with me was a goal of mine.

Those agonizing sit-ups I had to do to obtain those washboard abs that blinded everybody. I was unable to share them with others.

I would have loved to have been an actor if I hadn't been born in this sorry excuse for a country. One who stars in movies and is known for being funny, romantic, and charismatic.

My hopes and expectations have been completely discarded.

...and above all else.

As of yet, I have not had a sexual encounter with anyone.

Please, if fiction is true, grant me a second opportunity.

It's a rebirth in which I play a central role.

The one with the harem, all of whom I would like to sleep with.

The wealthy hero.

If I were a hero, I would...

I would make a terrible hero.

Inherently corrupt and greedy for success in love and the limelight.

Fuck yeah, I'm kidding.

I despise the idea of having to play the role of a hero.

I couldn't think straight since so many ideas were flooding my brain.

It was then that I realized a gun barrel was aimed squarely at my head.

It went off with a bang.

A haze is forming before my eyes.

At that moment, I realized my life was over.

…or should've

So why the hell am I staring into the eyes of a hideous, frightening, ringed creature with wings?

A feminine voice, somewhat warped, spoke to me from within.

The "...selected one"

"You have been chosen"

"Our Lord has appointed you."

In all honesty, that creature has a surprisingly charming voice.

What, though, does it mean that I have been selected?

Selected as a sacrificial victim?

Certainly not; I was a good man. For the good of my country, I gave my life. Or forced to.

I questioned "Preferred for what..."

When questioned, it gave a reply.

"To save us, as the saying goes."

What? Savior?

Does that imply?

To put it another way, you're casting me as a

In the wake of that, this happened.

"You have been singled out as the hero of our world.

Fuck.