Arthur's POV
Ashbourne was louder than usual when we returned. The air was full of music, chatter, and the clinking of tankards. Word of our success had reached the city before we even stepped through the gates — the hero of Sunshine Village, they called me now.
The guild hall was packed, adventurers raising their mugs as we walked in. "To the Hero and his team!" someone shouted, and the cheer echoed off the stone walls.
I smiled politely, but inside… I didn't feel much like a hero.
Alice was glowing with pride. "See?" she said, nudging me as we reached the counter. "You keep doing this, and they'll start building statues of you too."
Adam laughed, adding, "They already did in Riverstead. Don't tempt fate."
Even Jenny grinned. "Enjoy it, Arthur. Not everyone gets a song sung about them."
I wanted to. Really, I did. But every time someone mentioned hero, all I could see was Sarah — moving through the shadows, efficient and silent, saving those girls long before I ever swung my sword.
The guild master handed us our payment and clasped my shoulder. "You've done well, lad. The people need symbols like you. Someone who brings hope."
"Hope," I repeated softly, unsure if I was agreeing or questioning it.
After the others went off to celebrate, I walked alone to the training yard behind the guild. My armor was still scuffed and faintly glowing from the residual mana of battle. In the reflection of the blade, I saw that faint golden light — the same light that people now sang about.
It used to feel warm. Now it felt heavy.
I remembered what Sarah said — that I should take credit, that I was the hero with his companions, fighting for glory and justice. She had meant it as a joke, or at least I think she did. But the truth in her words stung. Was I really fighting for justice… or just playing a role someone else had written for me?
When I first woke into this world, I was nothing but Evelyn's will given form — a fragment with a purpose. But every battle, every choice, every word… they were slowly becoming mine.
I gripped the sword tighter.
Maybe I wasn't the Hero. Maybe I wasn't even meant to be one. But if I could make someone feel safe, if I could keep them from losing what I had once lost in another life… then maybe that was enough.
The light in the blade dimmed as I sheathed it.
Tomorrow, there would be another quest. Another village. Another person who needed saving. And I'd go — not because they needed a hero, but because I wanted to be there.
That was reason enough.