I’m a hero, but I don’t know if I should retire

The Holy Sword, dormant for 600 years, had awakened.

In the great hall of the temple, overflowing with divine energy, the Holy Sword stood tall at the highest point.

“The… the Holy Sword has awoken…!”

“Hurry, call the high priest!”

The eyes of priests and worshippers alike turned to the Holy Sword.

Unlike any ordinary blade, the Holy Sword emanated a holy, silvery glow.

This was because it had been forged by melting down sacred relics.

The blade and hilt, seamlessly fused into a single form, shimmered with a faint bluish-silvery hue. Its appearance was on a completely different level to any sword made by mortal blacksmiths.

It resembled a magnificent masterpiece, as if carved by the hand of a god.

The sunlight streaming through the stained glass scattered in a cascade of colour as it struck the silver blade of the Holy Sword.

“Oh, God above!”

“It seems the divine is about to speak to us!”

This radiant, otherworldly light poured down upon the gathered crowd in the Great Hall, illuminating their heads.

Every eye fixed on the Holy Sword was filled with awe and reverence.

That is, until the Holy Sword opened its mouth.

“I’ll take that lady over there.”

An unexpected voice echoed from the holy sword.

The faces of those who had just been aglow with awe turned pale in an instant.

“Did I just imagine that? Was that… a hallucination?”

The priest standing beside the high priest tilted his head in confusion.

Moments later, the voice reappeared – vicious and disrespectful, completely unworthy of something called the Holy Sword.

“Be honoured, for you have been chosen by none other than Righardt Ben Thierry Schoelier Mithius Roxanic!”

Ri-Righardt… what? The bewildered crowd exchanged confused glances between the Holy Sword and the High Priest.

The light emanating from the Holy Sword grew stronger.

“Oh, and just so you know – there is no such thing as a veto.”

As soon as the sword finished speaking, a glowing ball the size of a fist shot out from its blade.

The glowing sphere flew through the assembled knights in the Great Hall before crashing into the arms of one of them.

As the glowing orb made contact with the knight, a gust of wind whipped around them, ruffling the knight’s silver hair for a moment before it died away.

All watched the scene in awe, unable to tear their eyes away.

The voice of the Holy Sword echoed once more.

Purring contentedly like a cat basking in the sunlight, the Holy Sword spoke:

“Ah, just as I thought.”

So comfortable, warm and cuddly! Yes, it is!

In contrast, the knight cradling the light looked utterly indifferent, her expression calm and unreadable.

She was the continent’s first female knight and the sole survivor of a ruined duchy – Adelia Esther.

Thus began the fateful encounter between Adelia and the Holy Sword, Righardt.

***

Seven years later, the Knight of the Holy Sword suddenly disappeared.

“Even after her death, her achievements are still talked about by everyone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Her contributions were immeasurable. Not only that, but she led the centuries-long Gaia War to victory.”

The man told the story with pride, as if speaking of his own achievements.

“She was a blessing sent from the heavens… a blessing that will never come again.”

He glanced at the woman sitting opposite him, watching her expression. But her face remained indifferent, almost disinterested.

“I see.”

She replied curtly, reaching for the teacup on the worn wooden table.

Her lacklustre response seemed to bother the man, who pouted slightly and said, “You look like you’re just trying to amuse me.”

At that, Adelia fiddled with the handle of the rustic cup and let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, hearing it from you, Teacher, makes me feel a little embarrassed.”

“It’s your story, Dame Esther. Your story.”

Adelia chuckled again, though her expression soon turned serious. She fixed her eyes on Felson.

“Master Felson, instead of dwelling on old stories, let’s talk about the present, shall we?”

“…….”

“……Is my condition that serious?”

She had called him to examine her condition, only for him to ramble on about the past instead.

Adelia was well aware of this habit of Felson’s. The harder it was for him to deal with a situation, the more he would talk around it.

At her pointed question, Felson took a deep breath, then finally let out a sigh.

“Your condition, Dame…”

“I’m listening.”

“…Half a year.”

“…….”

“You have six months, Dame Esther…”

At his words, Adelia’s fingers froze in mid-movement. Felson closed his eyes tightly before opening them again, forcing himself to continue.

“Lady, how many times have I told you? You must take care of your body… Without health, what use are wealth and power?”

He had repeatedly warned her not to use her aura, warning her that her body wouldn’t be able to withstand it much longer.

Despite his desperate attempts to dissuade her, despite his countless warnings, here they were.

But even in the face of his angry rebuke, Adelia responded with a serene smile.

“Indeed. It seems this is my punishment for not listening to you, Teacher.”

Through her gently curved eyes, jewel-like crimson pupils gazed silently at Felson.

Tranquillity. Pure and unshakable calm.

Felson clenched his fists in his lap.

How could this knight smile like that?

Even after being told she had only six months to live, this knight showed no signs of breaking.

Looking at her serene expression, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the harsher truth – that six months was the maximum, and in reality it could be even less.

Lowering his gaze, Felson finally spoke, his voice heavy with frustration.

“Doesn’t it feel unbearably unfair that it should end like this…?”

Here, in a desolate place cut off from the world – a shabby, crumbling hut that seemed ready to collapse at any moment.

Is this really how a hero’s story should end?!

Felson remembered vividly – the sight of Adelia beaming as she announced her retirement, finally able to rest.

Even after her body had been shattered by the aftermath of the Great Battle, she had smiled. Just as she was smiling now.

“Please don’t do this. Return to the Duchy. You can’t waste your time in such a dilapidated hut. If you stay in the Duchy, you can get proper care. If we ask the Imperial Family for priests who are skilled in healing and the finest herbs, they won’t ignore your request…”

“Master Felson.”

Adelia interrupted, calling his name softly.

With a sigh, Felson replied, “Yes, Dame Esther.”

Adelia slowly rose from her chair and walked over to Felson’s side.

“A hero,” she began, placing a steady hand on Felson’s shoulder, which for her was trembling with suppressed anger.

“Must remain heroic to the end.”

Though her body could no longer wield a sword, Adelia’s perseverance in bearing the burden of a hero had restored her family’s honour and reclaimed the names of Theos and Derrick, who had died unjustly.

That was enough. She had achieved what she wanted, and she wanted no more. So when the Emperor offered her retirement, she readily accepted.

At the time, Adelia longed for peace and quiet more than anything else.

‘Of course, I hadn’t intended that rest to come in the form of death.’

But that is life.

You can’t have everything you want. For every gain, there is something to lose.

Adelia’s gaze dropped to the holy sword at her hip.

A faint smile graced her lips as she gently stroked the hilt, like a mother comforting a child, and murmured softly,

“Well done.”

The sword trembled softly in her hand.

***

The moment of death had come far too suddenly.

But even more shocking and absurd was the situation Adelia now found herself in.

Staring at her reflection with a look of utter disbelief, she muttered,

“So, Sera. How old am I now?”

“Y-you’re seven years old, my lady.”

Ha. Adelia let out a hollow laugh and raised a hand to her forehead. The maid’s eyes began to tremble visibly at the sight.

“M-my lady…?”

Sera, a maid in Duke Esther’s house, was taken aback.

The tone and expression on Adelia’s face when she awoke this morning was completely different from the night before.

“—Sweet dreams, Sera!”
“—You as well, my lady!”

The playful expression and mischievous tone were nowhere to be found.

Sera, who had been at Adelia’s side for all seven years of her young life, could immediately sense the subtle but undeniable change.

Adelia, who usually left for the training grounds at dawn, was uncharacteristically quiet that morning.

Finding this unusual, Sera made her way to Adelia’s room, only to find her standing in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection.

The silence in the room was suffocating, heavy enough to make breathing difficult. Before Sera could ask if anything was wrong, Adelia spoke first.

“Where’s my father?”

“Pardon?”

“Is he still alive?”

She asked about the Duke’s health, then about her brother, and finally about her own age. One after the other, with a calmness that was disconcerting.

Her voice was lower than usual, her crimson eyes calm and subdued, her gaze languid as it swept the room.

She feels so strange today…

It was almost as if she was looking at a reflection of the Duke himself, back from the battlefield.

Sera’s uneasy eyes shifted to Adelia, who was standing in front of the mirror. Then Adelia spoke again.

“Today is the year 699 of the Imperial Calendar, is it not?”

“Yes, my lady…”

Ah, could she have bumped her head in her sleep?

Sera’s fists, clutching her apron tightly, trembled slightly.

Whether Adelia was aware of Sera’s growing concern or not, she continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror, one eye furrowed in a thoughtful expression.

‘How on earth am I supposed to deal with this…’

Adelia remembered vividly the moment her breathing had stopped the night before.

The last gasps came in strained, choking breaths, her limbs paralysed, and she had no way to fight back.

‘You said I had six months, Master Felson!’

What a quack.

She hadn’t even lasted a month, let alone six.

Clicking her tongue inwardly, Adelia’s gaze shifted back to the maid, Sera.

Sera had been at her side since her birth and had remained loyal to the Duchy until its fall.

After leaving the Duchy, she said she had returned to her hometown.

She remembered hearing the news far too late—that Sera had returned to her hometown, married her childhood friend, and, less than a year later, was beaten to death by that very husband.

‘And yet, here was Sera, alive and standing right before her.’

Not only that.

“Seven years old? Me?”

She couldn’t understand why, after dying at the age of twenty-seven, she found herself as a seven-year-old.

At first she thought it was just a dream. But after questioning Sera since dawn, she was sure – it wasn’t a dream.

With a sigh, Adelia pushed back the strands of silver hair that had fallen across her face.

“The Imperial Year 699. Seven years old. …And Sera.”

All of these details pointed to one inevitable conclusion.

“…I’ve gone back 20 years.”

Through the mirror, Adelia caught Sera’s cautious gaze. Finally, Sera spoke hesitantly.

“My lady, is something… troubling you?”

“My lady, s-should I call a doctor…?”

It seemed that her unusual behaviour had unsettled Sera. Adelia shook her head.

“Don’t. I’m fine, Sera.”

Despite her reassurance, Sera’s eyes drooped with worry.

“Tomorrow is the Academy’s initiation ceremony, my lady. If we don’t finish packing… No, perhaps I should call the doctor now?”

Or perhaps summon Master Derrick instead… Sera’s concerns continued to spill out, causing Adelia to tilt her head slightly.

“The Academy?”

“Yes.”

Ah, right.

How could she have forgotten?

At the age of seven, Adelia had aspired to become a knight, just like her older brother, Derrick.

Fortunately, the entrance exam to the Imperial Academy had no age limit, and Adelia, against all odds, had passed the notoriously difficult exam as the top candidate.

“Tomorrow…”

Her acceptance into the Academy had paved the way for her to join the Imperial Knights.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the Academy was the foundation of the Adelia she had become.

Turning away from the mirror, Adelia faced the room.

“Yes, the Academy… the Academy was where it all began.”

“Pardon, my lady? What did you just say…?”

The Academy had made Adelia a knight.

And finally the Knight of the Holy Sword, the hero of the realm.

And then—

‘I spent my life wandering battlefields, working myself to death… only to actually die.’

Not once had she been able to sleep peacefully, not even for a single day.

There had been war, war and more war.

Adelia’s crimson eyes sank heavily with the weight of her thoughts.

Her gaze fell on the several suitcases lined up neatly beside the sofa, staring at them as if she could tear them apart with her eyes.

‘I remember how excited I was while packing those bags.’

The thought of following in her brother Derrick’s footsteps and upholding the honour of House Esther had once filled her with fiery determination.

To top it all off, she had been the youngest person to pass the Academy’s entrance exams – and had come top of her class.

‘But…’

Adelia walked toward the suitcases, her voice breaking the tense silence.

“Sera.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“These bags… unpack them. All of them.”

“Pardon?”

“Actually, no. Unpacking and organizing them would just be another chore.”

Adelia’s voice, now cold and resolute, continued.

“…Just burn them.”