The Era of Peace.
A refreshing spring.
A boy born as the son of a hunter was calm, inheriting his parents’ temperament.
He was planned, thorough, and cautious.
However, due to unfortunate circumstances, even with a tall stature, he had a thin frame, and his voice was very small.
But he wasn’t lacking. In fact, he was in a much better position for hunting than others.
His calmness became a sharp blade that pierced the heads of beasts. His planned nature allowed him to understand their ecology completely. His thoroughness kept him from becoming arrogant. The caution granted by the sky became his best weapon for perfectly efficient hunts.
His small size made him easily blend into the thickets, and his voice, which seemed to be swept away by the wind, was incredibly hard for beasts to hear.
Thanks to these qualities, the boy, despite his young age, showed exceptional skill by the 21st winter, recognized as a young man by the villagers.
He became the representative hunter of the village.
He built a warm family.
And, he became a parent with an adorable daughter.
For the young man who had lived his life as a hunter, he was struck by a newfound heavy sense of responsibility.
He had something he must protect.
As a result, his sharpened skills allowed him to cut through the skin of tigers. He could crush the heads of bears, snatch eagles, and crack turtle shells.
He cultivated a flower garden, allowing his precious wife to smile.
He tamed gentle beasts to become friends to his child.
When returning home, he thoroughly erased the smell of iron from his clothes.
He expanded the village so that his lovely child and precious wife could live comfortably.
Although his daughter, who was said to be blunt, never showed affection and never smiled, he was happy.
He was happy when she teased him by saying she would soon beat him in arm wrestling over his thin frame.
He was happy even when she avoided hugging him, claiming his hair and beard were prickly.
Even though the small village was nowhere near enough to fulfill her dream of becoming a princess, he was happy.
The guards, the empire’s knights, the adventurers.
There were no high walls, not even stone fences in the little village, but he didn’t mind.
Because their village was a hunter’s village. Small monsters were no match for them.
They could lead a prideful life. They could spend peaceful time.
They had no choice but to live in a peace-soaked time.
And so, they became dull.
In the time when all the hunters, including the young man, had left their posts, countless beasts stormed into the empty village.
They thoroughly shattered their peace.
The monsters that the hunters had proudly hunted ripped apart the skins of beasts like paper and tore into the flesh of ordinary villagers.
They devoured entrails and hung them on the front door.
They would pull off limbs alive, ripping out internal organs.
They violated. They tortured. They raped. They killed.
That night arrived.
Hunters who returned to the village, now in ruins, felt despair. They regretted it. They mourned.
They vented their rage and faced the beasts.
They swung machetes.
They thrust thick spears.
They pulled back bowstrings.
They bared their teeth for revenge.
That was all.
The machete that had torn through tiger skin broke against the troll’s hide. The spear that had pierced a bear’s head instead pierced a hunter’s skull.
The arrow that had snatched eagles fell helplessly. The hammer that had smashed turtle shells shattered under the beasts’ kicks.
His talents were the same.
Before overwhelming violence, mere human talents only brought greater despair.
But he did not give up.
He quickly regained his calm, as old habits kicked in.
He meticulously planned to search for his family.
He carefully sneaked back into the village.
Time was delayed, but glimpsing the surviving villagers filled him with hope.
He thought the innermost place, his home, might be safe.
He believed they would surely be alive if they had sought refuge in the underground warehouse.
And so, he moved his heavily weighted feet.
He passed the wide fence he had built so his family could live comfortably. Someone’s entrails were hanging there.
To avoid the monsters’ gaze, he smeared their blood all over himself. The stench was horrid as he failed to mask it as usual.
He passed by the village’s small farm. The beasts that had befriended his child lay torn apart in death.
He passed through the flower garden, where the flowers that had made his wife smile were drenched in thick blood.
Finally, he arrived at his home’s gate.
The flower crown and bouquet made by his daughter were crumpled beyond recognition.
He opened the door.
Instead of the warm scent of home, the foul odor of monsters wafted out.
Instead of a warm greeting, terrible screams erupted.
Instead of the sound of his daughter’s footsteps rushing to welcome him, he heard sloshy, meaty sounds.
He turned his head.
There stood not the wife who had retained her beauty through the passage of time, but a mere goblin.
And beneath it.
The one who had cared for him since childhood.
The one who rushed to wipe his blood whenever he returned from hunting, more hastily than anyone else.
The one who had boldly declared to become his new family.
The one who smiled sweetly at the stoic one.
The one who praised him, saying he was the strongest in the village, even with thin arms.
The one who endured the irritation of prickly hair and beard for hugs.
Though she couldn’t bring him stars from the night sky and could never become a princess.
Yet, she had always said their family was the best.
She had always said their dad was the best.
His wife, who had meant everything to him. His daughter, who had turned his life around.
His family.
Was being cruelly smashed by the goblin’s club.
His body moved.
Calmly, according to plan, cautiously.
The way he had lived until now.
Instinctively.
He grabbed the goblin by the neck and twisted it.
He clawed through the tough skin with his nails, tearing it apart.
He gouged out its eyes and yanked out its fangs.
He twisted its arms and pulled off its legs.
He ripped open its belly and stuffed its entrails into its mouth.
He skinned it alive.
And as dawn broke.
As the corpses of beasts piled up against the walls.
Knights dispatched from the empire arrived.
Adventurers who had accepted contracts appeared.
Just like they had hunted the weak beasts, they began to skillfully eliminate the monsters.
In that wretched ruin.
Buried under the corpses of monsters, he thought.
What if he had been just a little less calm?
What if he had rather lost his senses and charged in like others?
What if he hadn’t planned?
What if he had trusted his instincts and abilities?
What if he hadn’t been cautious?
What if he had acted recklessly?
Could he have saved his family?
Could he have been happier?
Even if he couldn’t gather stars, could they have seen the Milky Way together?
Even if he couldn’t make her a princess, could he have crowned her with the flower crown she made?
But.
That was all.
No matter how desperately he longed, prayed, begged.
It wouldn’t return.
It was a dream that slipped from his arms, never to be reclaimed.
Regret and obsession over the past.
Despair, grief, disillusionment, confusion, fear.
Such terrible things overlaying upon.
The excessively cautious life of a young man.
The life of a parent who had much to protect.
The past of a man who dreamed of the future.
Was a dream that could never be painted again.
Thus.
The hunter.
The boy.
The young man.
The parent.
The man.
Became an adventurer.
He erased his calm.
Cast away thoroughness.
Didn’t plan.
Discarded caution.
The bluntness his daughter hated became a hearty laugh.
The frail body his daughter teased became muscle.
The hair she avoided became baldness.
Everything changed.
The dreams that could not be painted.
Chased after the past that had already gone by.
And yearned.
To never lose again.
To never break again.
To never regret again.
Ultimately, to protect everything.
So.
Heinzel opened his eyes.
*
Thud—
A cold artificial arm draped over Delia’s shoulder, bracing for death.
Her eyes, filled with resolve, trembled.
Her straightened arm wavered.
Her stern determination bowed its head.
The stiff neck turned.
“…Ha… Heinzel?”
She gazed upon Heinzel, now a ragged shadow of himself, missing an arm, a leg, and an eye.
Having prepared for death, Delia couldn’t bring herself to speak. She didn’t want to have lingering attachments. She didn’t want to place responsibility on him.
“Why… why did you get up…?”
Because of that, she could only utter meaningless words.
“It was blinding.”
In response, Heinzel also answered with foolish words.
And thought of a phrase spoken by his dear friend to a little girl.
The friend’s much more dashing figure, incomparable to the wretched and cowering Heinzel who had once rolled on the ground.
At that moment, surely.
“That’s enough.”
Is what he said.
“…What?”
“Cough, ha, ha, ha…”
As Heinzel recalled his past self to his mind with a deep voice and serious tone, he smiled bitterly.
He decided to erase it.
To expel it.
To discard it.
He vowed to change.
Thus, once more.
He raised his head.
Straightened his shoulders.
Kept his back erect.
Opened his eyes wide.
Standing tall upon the earth.
He shook off the past.
He faced the present.
He dreamed of the future.
He laughed.
“Khahhahahaha!”
And now, in this moment, what he desires most.
What he has longed for all his life.
His fervent prayer.
Gathered together, the hopes of an old, worn-out dream that was scattered.
What he desires most is to protect everything.
Because of that.
Breaking all the malice of the world clawing at him.
In an instant.
Before his eyes.
The back of the one who had walked the long road.
Beyond the wall, beyond human capacity.
The one-eyed.
He saw Lucci.
It was distant.
Infinitely far.
The back that had once split Carpen, cleaved the world, and even cut the sun was so far he couldn’t even look at it.
But now.
It felt close.
Close enough to touch if he extended his hand.
No, perhaps close enough to stand beside him.
So close.
His hand reached out.
And touched.
His footsteps fell.
He stood beside.
No.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He moved ahead.
Heinzel did not look back.
He merely checked that he had surpassed.
Toward his friend trailing behind.
Toward the beast before him.
Toward the sky.
He smiled.
He clenched his fist.
At that moment.
The foundations shook.
Discipline twisted.
Concepts reversed.
Upon Leviathan’s face.
A deep terror settled.
