Who Killed the Hero? Volume 2 Chapter 4 part 3

Although the carriage had a sturdy cargo bed, the upper part was only covered with a canvas, so it was easy to peek at the surroundings.
 
Nevertheless, the merchant family riding in the cargo area kept their eyes closed.
 
The merchant was holding his young daughter, while his wife was holding an even younger son, both stiff with fear.
 
The constant roars of the monsters eloquently told of the dire situation.
 
Only one boy, about ten years old, was restlessly and blankly watching the monsters visible at the rear of the carriage.
 
At the front of the carriage, a female magician and a priestess were fighting to keep the enemies at bay, but the number of monsters was increasing rather than decreasing.
 
“If these people give up and run away, it’s all over.”
 
The boy felt terrified that his life was in the hands of others.
 
Eventually, his eyes met with those of a goblin. Skin like it was made of dirt, with barely any hair. Its yellow eyes were bloodshot, looking decidedly evil and cunning.
 
In its hand, it gripped a short, rusty sword.
 
The goblin, noticing the boy’s presence, called out to its companions and then pointed.
 
As if to say, “We’re coming now.”
 
Indeed, about five goblins grouped together and, careful not to become targets of the women’s magic, slowly approached. Their faces wore evil grins.
 
The boy held his breath and looked around, but there was nowhere to escape. He only reconfirmed the sight of the merchant couple trying to protect their children, which made him sad.
 
The goblins were coming. Peeking out from the front of the carriage, he could see the magicians and the spearman desperately fending off other monsters, making it impossible to ask for help or to escape.
 
Finally, the goblins laid their hands on the cargo bed. Their faces were twisted with sadistic pleasure.
 
The cargo bed creaked. Even the merchants finally opened their eyes, trembling with fear.
 
The boy’s eyes met with the merchant’s. He felt something like reproach in that gaze.
 
As if to say, “You should be the sacrifice.”
 
He realized a goblin had raised its sword. It seemed like unavoidable death.
 
But in the next moment, a sword sprouted from the goblin’s belly. And the vicious little man slowly fell.
 
“Hey, was that fifty gold coins worth of thrill?”
 
The swordsman who appeared from behind the goblin was smiling with just his mouth. His whole body was covered in blood and he was breathing heavily. It was clear he wasn’t as composed as his expression suggested.
 
“You’re injured…”
 
There might have been some blood splatter, but it was obvious the swordsman himself was also wounded. Since he hadn’t been visible until just now, he must have forced his way through to get here.
 
“What, we’ve got to give our priestess some chance to shine too. It doesn’t sit well with me to give her pay for doing nothing. So, injuries like these will heal quickly. No problem.”
 
The boy could only nod repeatedly.

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After encountering the Demon King’s army, we arrived at the town of Elderia without any notable trouble. Another request successfully completed.
 
Perhaps because we let monsters get into the carriage, the merchant client seemed very dissatisfied, but the bonus child was grateful. Well, in this world, money matters more than gratitude. Even the child was saved only because he was worth fifty gold coins.
 
Despite the neighboring country being invaded by the Demon King’s army, the town of Elderia was bustling. Or rather, it might be thriving because of the invasion.
 
War makes money, whether it’s against humans or monsters. It’s a scene I’ve seen many times, and I’m a bit uncomfortable with it.
 
For now, we ate the most delicious meal in this town, drank some alcohol, and slept at the inn with the most luxurious beds. After a series of nights sleeping outdoors, this contrast gives a modest sense of happiness.
 
Then, after resting for a few days to recover from fatigue, we looked for the next request on the bulletin board at the adventurers’ tavern.
 
Something that pays well, heads in the direction we’re aiming for, and aligns with our purpose.
 
Such convenient requests are hard to find. As I carefully examined the bulletin board from end to end, I found that request in a corner.
 
It’s what you’d call divine guidance. Although the conditions didn’t quite match, it was undoubtedly a job tailored for us.
 
I tore that paper off the bulletin board and headed towards the tavern keeper.
 

 
That night, the prophet appeared again.
 
[Why did you choose a request that doesn’t pay well?]
 
The next request I had decided on was to subjugate monsters that had appeared in Gastan, a land further west from here.
 
Apparently, transport wagons from Gastan were being attacked by monsters. Due to the war’s impact, they were transporting scarce grain, so soldiers had been assigned as escorts, but they were completely wiped out.
 
Despite the high level of danger, the offered reward was low, and honestly, it didn’t match the effort required.
 
As a result, not a single other adventurer had accepted this request.
 
“It’ll pay off. These things are negotiable. The folks in Gastan are probably in quite a bind. They’ll likely agree to raise the reward.”
 
[There must have been better-paying and more profitable requests.]
 
“I’m surprised. Does the prophet even select requests for us? Want to become our exclusive request broker?”
 
Unfazed by my sarcasm, the prophet declared:
 
[Do not go west.]
 
“Where we go is our own business.”
 
[…What are you hiding?]
 
“Hiding? That’s rich, coming from you, Prophet.”
 
I pointed my finger at the prophet’s face.
 
“How can someone who reveals neither their identity nor anything else, trying to manipulate people from the shadows, say such a thing?”
 
[That’s…]
 
The prophet’s form wavered. It’s probably just a virtual image projected by some kind of magic, but does it also affect the mental aspect?
 
“Let me tell you, I don’t trust you at all. There’s nothing to prove that you’re a real prophet. Now that you understand, disappear from my sight quickly. If you want a hero, try someone else. There must be plenty of promising candidates, right? Sword Saint Leon, Saint Maria, Great Sage Solon. These are geniuses everyone knows. Why don’t you choose them? Why try to choose me? Your choice is clearly odd.”
 
I drew my sword and pointed it at the prophet.
 
“Answer me. Who are you?”
 
The other party was an illusion, but my sword carried some magical power. If I cut, there was a possibility it might have some effect.
 
Whether real or fake, either way, I couldn’t let them keep following me. If I threatened this much, they would probably disappear as usual and never show up in front of me again.
 
[…I am no one.]
 
Contrary to expectations, the prophet didn’t disappear. However, their voice lacked its usual authority and seemed to convey some anxiety.
 
“No one? Aren’t you a prophet?”
 
[I am a prophet. But I…]
 
The prophet’s face and voice were indistinguishable as male or female. It was unclear whether they were young or old. However, now their atmosphere alone conveyed some kind of hesitation.
 

 
With the sword still pointed at them, the prophet fell silent, and after a while, disappeared.
 
They would appear again. That was the only certainty I had.

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