The Scenes of the Past Are Fleeting Now

I’d admired heroes since I was a kid.

Vaguely, I held onto this image of a group of friends crushing evil together. They would stand up no matter how many times they were beaten down, overcoming every hardship to stay by each other's side. I longed to be that kind of person—the ultimate hero.

I didn’t know why.

It was just an ideal envisioned by a brat who didn’t know a damn thing. I just thought it looked cool, and I hoped I could be like that with my friends. I had no talent to speak of, but my comrades had scouted me and made me feel needed. I decided that, for their sake, I would make them the heroes.

"Hey, Ouma. Let’s win this. Once we clear this place, we’ll finally..."

That was ten years ago, when I was fifteen.

Our party, Illegal, had headed out to conquer an S-Rank Dungeon. It was just before the authorities issued a total entry ban due to its overwhelming difficulty. We’d somehow managed to secure permission and challenged it anyway.

The conquest was going smoothly.

Aside from the Guild Master, our entire roster—a small group of elites—had challenged the dungeon. It was an Otherworld-type, but we progressed through it without a hitch. We reached the boss and cleared the dungeon. Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

"A-Ah... I waS planninG to eaT thaT... buT, I guesS it's okayY."

That was when it appeared.

It had a pitch-black face, devoid of any features. Its body was a matching void—humanoid, yet with joints bent at impossible angles. The massive claws protruding from its frame were nauseating to look at. Even for a dungeon inhabited by monsters—no, by "magical beasts"—this thing was a clear anomaly. It was a total aberration.

Though there was no mouth on its face, words like mechanical static echoed directly in my head.

"BecausE... I'll be gettinG the Scripture!"

Then, the despair fell upon us.

In an instant, the dungeon was painted in fresh blood. Two of our front-liners were slaughtered by the thing the moment it appeared. Each time one fell, I heard that sneering laughter. It took pleasure in the theft of life, in the massacre itself, messily crushing and devouring the corpses as if it were playing a game.

It scrambled across the walls, floors, and ceilings with inhuman agility. Before I knew it, four of us were dead.

I didn’t understand what it meant by "Scripture" back then. Even though its gaze had been fixed on me from the start, it only targeted and killed my comrades.

The monster transformed its pulsing, throbbing body, shifting into the optimal shape to mercilessly snatch their lives away. Even with that mutating trait, its claws remained exactly the same. It was eerie. But as I watched, anger began to boil, and something deep inside me began to surge.

Don’t screw with me!

My root, which had been dormant all this time—the thing I would later learn was a Scripture—finally awakened.

A torrential power welled up. Along with a staggering amount of information, I experienced a life that wasn't my own in a flash of light. In that moment, I obtained the power of a Hero.

"Ahahahaha! It is a Scripture! To thinK I’d finD one in thiS world! I wanT it! I wanT it!"

I knew how to use it.

I was certain that, with this power, I could kill it.

However, that thing was pure malice. It used the corpses of my friends as shields, trying to survive. Since we had already cleared the Otherworld-type dungeon, our remaining time was short; if we didn't end this quickly, we would vanish along with the dungeon itself.

The creature seemed to realize this, maneuvering to buy time. But there was no way it could escape the power of [Indra] at that level.

"I-It hurtS... it hurtS! YoU’re amazinG! BuT... there are onlY threE of yoU lefT, righT? Do youR besT!"

A single grazing blow of my lightning shaved away its body. No matter how it tried to flee, the pursuing bolts wouldn't let it go. Thunderclouds gathered in the ceiling; I could manipulate them all. I would never forgive this thing. I had to protect my comrades—everyone dear to me.

So give me more! More power!

With every passing second, my senses were honed, even as something began to erode my mind.

But I didn’t care. If I could save my friends, if I could leave everyone I loved a future—even just a sliver of one—I didn't care what happened to me. Just let me win, I prayed.

I grew stronger with every wish. With every craving, my mana increased.

There was no limit. The power responded to my desire, echoing it perfectly. I was going to kill this thing.

"A-Ah... so thaT’s the limiT. HeY, Indra... I am... Demi Nyarla. UnlikE yoU, I’m an artificiaL Scripture... so, give it to mE? Then, I can becomE the reaL thinG!"

—But I couldn’t.

Perhaps it was the price of wishing for too much power. My vision was dyed crimson and my lungs burned, making it hard to breathe.

Despite being on the verge of defeat, the thing sneered at me. It stated its name and opened its mouth to speak.

"You can’t... just be protecteD... all the time!"

In that instant, my best friend lunged forward.

He had been a bystander until that moment, but he drove his sword through the enemy and barked out his final command.

"Itsuki! Use the Teleportation Stone! Get Ouma out of here! I’ll hold this thing down!"

"Wha—!? But you—! Fine! Ouma, we’re going!"

"Don’t screw with me! Not like this—! Hey! My friend!"

"I’m really sorry, Ouma. Forgive me... and do your best."

That was the day Illegal collapsed.

The worst day of my life. The day I lost everything and realized that heroes don't exist.