Fragment 5: Carlos
When was it that I first said, “I want to be a hero”?
I don’t remember the exact moment. Only that it was sometime in my childhood.
Like any other child, I had learned about heroes and admired them purely—nothing more than a naive, fleeting wish. A common tale, just childish babble.
But in my case, people took it seriously.
Perhaps it was because, from a young age, I showed talent in both swordplay and magic.
That said, it wasn’t unusual for royalty to possess great power. Most royal lineages could trace their bloodline back to some legendary hero, with strong blood mixing in over generations. Some royal families even deliberately kept the blood of heroes alive within their lineage.
Thus, the power I displayed was no miraculous blessing. In a way, it was only natural—merely a coincidence that my aptitude for sword and magic aligned with the conventional image of a hero.
Yet, Felip, who served as one of my closest aides, and my cousin Elliot became convinced that I was the hero after witnessing my abilities.
And once people believe something of you, as royalty, you must strive to meet those expectations.
A royal’s duty is to answer the hopes of the people. Those who idly occupy their station without fulfilling that role have no right to call themselves royalty.
So, I kept striving. Every spare moment, I swung my sword or buried myself in spellbooks.
Being called a “hero” didn’t feel bad. In fact, part of me began to embrace it.
My swordsmanship grew exceptional, and my magical prowess surpassed the norm. At that point, telling a child not to get carried away would’ve been unreasonable.
By the time I was fourteen, I even arrogantly thought, “Could there possibly be a hero greater than me?” Call it the delusion of invincibility that comes with youth.
But as I grew older, I began to understand many things.
The demonkin, though few in number, far surpassed humans in strength. Both physically and magically, humanity was the inferior race. The Demon King stood at the apex of these beings—no match for mere swords or spells, no matter how skilled the wielder.
If that weren’t the case, the war against the Demon King’s army wouldn’t have been so overwhelmingly one-sided. A little rational thought made that clear.
I came to realize that so-called heroes were merely those who confused courage with recklessness and happened to succeed.
Yet, Felip, Elliot, and those around me still believed I would become the hero.
As the crown prince, I needed to demonstrate my power, so I frequently showcased my swordsmanship and magic, eventually earning the epithet “Hero of Ludonia.”
For one who bore the weight of Ludonia, the title was a blessing.
It would make it easier to garner the people’s support when I became king and to carry out governance smoothly. So, I never outright denied being a hero.
Amid all this, my deployment to the border fortress to fight the Demon King’s army was little more than a means to build credentials as “one who aspires to be a hero.” While many voiced their expectations, others doubted me, asking, “Does he truly have the skill?”—since I had no prior experience fighting monsters.
With the reputation of “Hero of Ludonia,” my father the king expected me to ascend the throne, and the people demanded actual results in battle.
I had no reservations about fighting. Though I didn’t believe I could slay the Demon King, based on gathered intelligence, I was confident I could handle lower-ranking demonkin without issue.
Felip and Elliot, now my sworn retainers, were skilled knights in their own right. From the fortress’s order, a man named Darius and his subordinates were assigned as my personal guard.
Darius was a rough, crude man as far as knights went—but he was also Ludonia’s most battle-hardened veteran, entrusted with my protection for good reason. In combat, his judgment never faltered, and he knew exactly how to bolster my presence on the battlefield. A reliable man through and through.
I would later learn that beneath his crude jokes lay the heart of a sincere knight who grieved for his country’s peace more than anyone.
Felip and Elliot were influenced by Darius, and he, in turn, came to support their belief that “Prince Carlos must become the hero and guide the world to peace.” I couldn’t refute them. Though I never intended to be a hero, I had come to this battlefield to prove I had the qualifications. That knowledge weighed heavily on me.
When Darius—respected by soldiers and generals alike—began loudly proclaiming, “The prince shall be our hero!”, the sentiment gradually spread throughout the fortress.
And, terrifyingly, I found myself swept up in it, almost believing it myself.
Eventually, the idea arose: “We must slay one of the Demon King’s commanders to convince the king to send Prince Carlos into the Demon King’s domain.”
Truthfully, I lacked the resolve for such a thing. The very thought filled me with dread.
Yet, I hesitated. While venturing into the Demon King’s realm as a hero was one thing, the Ludonian forces at the fortress were clearly being worn down by relentless defense. If attrition continued, the fortress would eventually fall.
Slaying a demon commander seemed necessary to protect Ludonia itself.
I wrote to my father, proposing an offensive to eliminate the demonkin—only to be curtly denied.
“After achieving more results, you are to return to the capital,” his reply stated.
I believed his judgment was mistaken. He could say such things only because he didn’t understand the situation.
If I withdrew from the fortress, the Ludonian army couldn’t launch an offensive without defying royal decree. Only I, as the prince, could defy such an order. If we missed this chance, there would be no other.
After discussing it with the fortress’s key figures, we unanimously agreed to launch a large-scale offensive.
The plan was simple: circle behind the Demon King’s forces and slay the demonkin.
I wasn’t underestimating them. But their movements had become so predictable that I assumed they looked down on humans.
—However, this strategy was exactly what the demonkin had anticipated from the start.
They were far more meticulous than we had imagined, patient enough to wait indefinitely.
In the end, the detachment I led was annihilated. Nearly a hundred elite knights were lost.
Only I, Felip, and Elliot survived—not by chance, but because Darius and his men had fought to the death to protect us.
I couldn’t bring myself to look directly at their corpses. Even though they had died for me.
Yet, their voices lingered in my ears.
“Someday ,defeat the Demon King—!”
“Bring peace to the world—!”
“Our hope lies with the prince!”
One by one, they had shouted their hopes, their wishes, before throwing themselves into the abyss without hesitation.
I may have given them reason to believe in me, but I never meant to deceive them. Inspiring hope in others was simply what royalty demanded.
But I wasn’t so heartless as to disregard the lives Darius and his knights had sacrificed. I didn’t want to be.
After the defeat, I agonized over whether I should truly become the hero. Cast aside my title as prince, take Felip and Elliot, and journey into the Demon King’s domain—it would be no different from marching to my death.
Moreover, choosing this moment—after a failed offensive—to declare myself a hero felt irresponsible as the crown prince.
I had no one to consult. If I spoke to Felip and Elliot, they would surely urge me to set out immediately. They owed their lives to Darius and his men. They must have felt even more responsible for his death than I did.
Summoned back to the capital to answer for the defeat, I spoke with my father, the king.
“For the sake of those who died, shouldn’t I embark on a quest to slay the Demon King?” I asked.
“Do you truly believe you can do such a thing?”
Contrary to my expectations, the king didn’t rage. Instead, he gazed at me calmly.
“Is that truly your will? If so, I won’t oppose you. But to me, it seems you’re only being cornered into this.”
His words stole my breath. As if reading my mind, he had perfectly described my feelings.
“If you’re being swayed by others into becoming a hero, then stop. A hero is what a superhuman becomes—not one with strength or magic, but one with an unshakable heart. Strength and magic can be honed through training. But a strong heart is far harder to attain. The heart wavers easily. Only those who can reject all outside voices and stubbornly believe in themselves to the point of abnormality possess such strength. You don’t have it. You were called a hero by others and tried to live up to it. Had you been a true hero, you would have ignored their expectations and walked your own path.”
I had no retort. Every word was true.
The king had seen through my lack of a hero’s spirit early on—which was precisely why he intended to make me his successor. A keen eye, indeed. I had misjudged even my own father.
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“Rest, Carlos. You’re exhausted. With Felip and Elliot at your side, your mind will find no peace. That’s why I recalled only you. Physical wounds heal visibly, but the wounds of the heart are invisible and slow to mend. Darius’s death has wounded you more deeply than you realize.”
He had summoned me out of fatherly love.
For the first time, I wept—for Darius and his men, and for my own helplessness in being unable to fulfill their hopes.
And so, at my father’s urging, I withdrew under the pretext of illness to recuperate.
I spent some time confined to my chambers. Though I felt guilty for turning my back on the war against the Demon King’s army, I understood it was necessary to distance myself from it all.
I understood—yet those memories resurfaced relentlessly.
The faces, voices, and forms of the dead returned to me with unbearable clarity.
They ambushed me when I drifted into sleep. When I woke at dawn.
Darius had been a kind, reasonable man. Had I spoken to him properly, he would have understood.
The others were no different—good-hearted souls who’d never forced the title of Hero upon me or demanded I slay the Demon King.
Yet I’d lost any chance to speak with Darius and the others. Because I feared disappointing them. Because I cowered at the thought of betraying their expectations.
The dead would never blame me. The blame came from within. The inability to forgive myself—that too was mine alone.
“It’s beyond fixing.” “No use dwelling on it.” “What’s done is done.” “They’d understand.” “They brought this on themselves.” “Should I have died instead?” “Maybe it’d be better if the Demon King’s army crushed this kingdom…”
Excuses clashed inside me, each carrying its own twisted logic. Any one of them could have brought solace—if only my heart and body would accept it.
But they refused.
My chest constricted until breathing hurt. My limbs grew leaden. I jolted awake screaming more nights than not, and even daylight couldn’t quell the urge to shriek. I tried swinging my sword, poring over spellbooks—anything to move—but nothing took root.
This was the wound of regret. No quick healing, only waiting for time to pass.
Yet time refused to move.
Then the rumors reached me:
“Prince’s Faction, led by Felip and Elliot, plots to seize Prince Carlos and usurp the throne.”
The king might have gagged the court to keep this from me, but you can’t silence every whisper. I overheard it by chance when leaving my chambers.
Worst-case scenario. Felip and Elliot—who blamed themselves for Darius’ death—were precisely the sort to attempt this. If they succeeded, I’d be forced to march on the Demon King’s domain as their figurehead Hero. If they failed, we’d lose the fortress knights joining their coup—leaving us defenseless against the Demon King’s forces.
Ludonia stood at the brink. And it was my fault.
I petitioned the king to confront Felip and Elliot.
Though reluctant, he conceded—with no better solution at hand.
Then, to sell the lie of my illness, I drank poison.
To save Ludonia. To prevent more deaths.
—And to escape my own torment.—
When Felip and Elliot saw me at death’s door, they accepted my “illness” as truth and vowed to defend the kingdom with their lives once more.
“We’ll hold fast until His Highness returns,” they said.
Then they’ll fight to the end.
This was for the best.
Afterward, the king and others struggled to cure me, but with no will to recover, my condition only worsened.
I was exhausted. Too broken to desire life.
Strangely, I found solace in this. Like Darius, I’d protect the kingdom by sacrificing myself.
On the night my life faded, someone entered my chamber.
My vision had failed—only their presence remained.
Their voice came rough, abrupt:
[“Did you want to be the Hero?”]
“I never wanted to be a Hero. More than anything… I just wanted to live simply. To not care what others said, to never put on airs – just stubbornly exist without worrying about tomorrow. To honestly feel joy, anger, sorrow and happiness in each moment as it came. That’s the kind of man I wanted to be.”
I startled at realizing I could speak despite my ruined voice. Was this some deathbed dream?
[“That sounds easily done.”]
Bafflement tinged their words.
“The simplest things are often hardest. Like knowing virtue yet failing to uphold it. People see truth yet choose blindness—as I did. That’s how I strayed.”
[“Then had you chosen rightly, what would you have wanted? Your true wish?”]
“To protect Ludonia. My parents, my sister, Felip, Elliot, every soul in this castle, every soldier I fought beside, every citizen—I loved them all. My weakness made me flee, but this truth remains.”
Even speaking it brought crushing pain. The very desire to protect had been my torment.
[—Carlos. You’re no coward. You were simply too kind. You broke under the weight of others’ hopes—nothing to shame.]
The words soothed me like a balm. For the first time, the agony eased.
[I can grant your wish. In your stead, wearing your form, wielding your voice and strength, I’ll protect Ludonia. But I must take your shape forever.—Your choice?]
By rights, this should terrify me. Yet I felt no fear. For I knew this being.
“You’re the Shapeshifter. The entity summoned by Ludonia’s founding king—the god who guarded this land.”
[A god? None have called me that in ages. Now they name me monster.]
I sensed its bitter smile.
“Then take this body. My memories, power—all of it. Once, you guided men as this kingdom’s king. Do so again, O god.”
As I spoke, something enveloped me—consuming, eroding.
Yet strangely, there was no discomfort. Only relief, as if finally freed from an endless torment.
TLNOTE:
Because of that volume 1 and 2 fan translation in this site will be removed in the near future
otherwise check the internet archive
As usual, please consider reading other novels written by Daken sensei listed below :
- Monster Meat Led Me to the Throne
- The Castle of Canaan ~ The Lost Kingdom’s Princess, the World’s Hidden Treasure, and the Grand Adventure of the Mightiest Band of Thieves Versus an Empire ~
- The Wicked Princess and 12 Eyes – The Strongest Squires and the Legendary Evil Woman, the Second Time in Her Life
- The Suspects of Necromancy
- The Exiled Merchant Saves the World with the Power of Gold (translated by my friend meerkat)
- The Last Magic (translated by my friend narwhal)
Also check out my friend Localizermeerkat for more LN translations!
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