episode_0074

Even as part of the hero party, Elia’s mindset never changed much.

The strong lead from the front, while the weak protect from behind.

Time and again on the battlefield, Elia reminded everyone—especially Eric—to stay cautious and guarded. She believed someone like him had no place fighting on the front lines, as it would do no good.

Of course, in reality, Eric’s abilities weren’t even that bad by average standards. He himself knew ways to grow stronger in this world and had made efforts to put them into practice.

But his frame of reference was just too unfortunate.

The exceptional exist for the sake of all, while those who fall short must accept that protection and strive to improve. In a way, it was a twisted sense of noblesse oblige—but in a world like this, merely holding such beliefs already made her a figure worthy of respect.

When she saw Lucilla declaring that the prophecy had been wrong and that they might all be useless in this world, Elia’s mind flashed back to her final battle.

“Haa… haa… haa…”

“Oh my. Already tired?”

“If you have the leisure to joke, focus on recovery instead.”

The Demon King’s castle. Before the throne, Elia and the rest of the hero party were pushing themselves to their limits.

“……”

Disgustingly, the Demon King didn’t even bother rising from his seat. As if he could wipe them all out whenever he pleased. That arrogance filled Elia with a fury she had rarely felt before—but it didn’t change the fact that they were at a disadvantage.

“Next! Incoming!”

“Cecilia, prioritize barrier spells! Healing can wait!”

Even if they wiped out hundreds of demons with magic, thousands more would take their place. Had it not been for her party members shielding her every time she cast a spell, Elia would have easily ended up like the countless soldiers already littering the ground. That was why, even now, she refused to abandon her convictions.

She could keep fighting because there were others equal to her.

Because the strong and noble existed, people could hold onto hope. And eventually, the Demon King’s forces dwindled until only the Demon King himself remained. Though exhausted, they still had strength left—victory was within reach.

But when none of them could land a decisive blow and the Demon King moved in for the kill, Elia resigned herself.

Of course, losing was frustrating.

But the Demon King was stronger. Resistance was futile. She had prepared successors, but none could surpass those already here.

At best, she could preserve her strength so the Empire—and everyone else—might survive a little longer.

As she thought this, someone rushed past her.

“Then—”

“What the hell are you doing, you idiot?! Sto—”

Before Elia could react, Eric acted first—and she could only tremble.

The other three felt guilt and reverence for Eric’s sacrifice, but she was different.

Why?

That was all she could think. Everything she knew, everything she believed—Eric’s actions defied it all.

He was supposed to be weak.

Spouting nonsense about prophecies, bringing suspicious artifacts and elixirs only to discard them, barely holding his own in battle—someone who deserved protection.

Sacrifice was the privilege of the strong. So the fact that he had saved them all left Elia utterly bewildered.

She didn’t know how he had regained his sanity, but upon hearing the news, she sought him out repeatedly. She sent letter after letter to Christine, who was obviously hiding him, but as expected, Christine refused to hand him over.

Then, by chance, she ran into Eric on the street and asked if he remembered her. If he had, she wanted to ask: How could you make that choice back then? She, too, had been prepared to sacrifice herself.

The war against the Demon King’s army had been the greatest threat the Empire—let alone herself—had ever faced. She never once believed it could end without someone dying.

But sacrifice was only possible when you believed in its value and the hope it brought for the future. Otherwise, it was just a meaningless death. So what had Eric believed in when he attempted that suicidal regression?

She tried to ask—but the moment she restrained him and met his eyes, he was the one who questioned her.

“Do you know me?”

Those words left her with no choice but to back down. Even if she asked this Eric why he made that choice, he wouldn’t even know what she was talking about. After that, she stopped actively seeking him out.

Instead, she buried her curiosity in work. Clinging to the faint hope that acting on Eric’s prophecies might yield something, she cut back on sleep and mechanically handled imperial affairs and lingering criminals.

Later, circumstances led to her overseeing his education, but honestly, she felt no real interest. Even if she thanked or apologized to Eric, it would only be to ease her own guilt—nothing more.

Attending these meetings, playing along—it was all just duty. Not for Eric, but to protect the future and fulfill her role as one of the strong.

Then the path she must take was clear.

“So here, we’ll mobilize this army to—”

Suppressing the emotions stirring inside her, she acted as usual. Eric no longer knew her. He only trusted them because the prophecy mentioned them.

Even if he did remember, he wouldn’t like them. To Elia, the events of their second-year academy days were a distant blur, but for him, they had happened mere weeks ago.

Part of her wanted to ask, even if it earned his hatred—but it was impossible.

“Are you serious? You know how many people dislike you, right? The moment you step outside the capital, you’ll be assassinated.”

“Does it matter?”

“What?”

“If I’m assassinated for trying, then that just proves I wasn’t worth more. Didn’t you say it yourself? The future seen in prophecies isn’t absolute.”

“Wait, Elia. Are you seriously agreeing with Lucilla’s nonsense?”

“No. Not like that. Everyone here—myself included—is likely the best fit for the title of ‘hero party.’ That’s why I agree with you. But if, for some reason, we die or are injured beyond the ability to fulfill our duties, then the prophecy was wrong. So shouldn’t we strive to prevent that?”

Elia had been defeated. By the Demon King—and by Eric.

Whether in knowledge or courage, since that day, Elia Perial could no longer be certain of her path.

In the end, the only choice left to her was to do nothing.

How laughable.

She mocked herself inwardly. She, the most diligent and methodical of all, had never imagined she’d accept having no plan so easily.

Defeated, she had lost the right to stand before others. To be someone’s hope, to look down on anyone.

Cecilia and Christine wanted to take the initiative and help Eric.

Lucilla rejected them entirely and proposed a new path.

And Elia? She simply watched. That was the conclusion she had reached. If Eric believed they were still the best heroes for the role, she would do her utmost to meet his expectations. If he cast her aside, she would accept it and do what she could from her position.

On the surface, it seemed obedient, even repentant—but it was a choice Eric himself would never have approved of.

Outwardly composed, but leaving her emotions and questions unresolved, festering and rotting away.

Yet to the current Elia, that decay felt sickeningly sweet.