The Day the World Chose a Hero
Prologue — The Day the World Chose a Hero
The world loved heroes.
It carved their names into stone, sang their deeds in golden halls, and forgave every sin as long as victory followed. In the Empire of Lynndell, heroes were not merely admired—they were needed.
Five thousand years ago, a single man named Santiago had severed the world from the demonic realm, forever changing history. Since then, the title of Hero appeared only once every five centuries, bestowed by fate itself.
And on that day—
The world chose again.
The plaza before the Grand Church overflowed with people.
Nobles in embroidered robes.
Commoners in worn clothes.
Children standing on trembling legs, eyes filled with hope and fear alike.
At fifteen years of age, destiny was no longer an abstract idea. It hovered above their heads, waiting to brand them.
Rikuo Arc Seras stood among them, quiet and small for his age.
His breathing was shallow. His body, as always, felt like glass wrapped in skin. He ignored the stares—some curious, others disdainful. Being born into the Seras family made him visible, yet never important.
It will be fine, he told himself. It always is.
The holy platform glowed.
One by one, light descended.
A swordsman’s Sigil.
A mage’s Sigil.
Cheers, applause, envy.
Then—
Golden radiance erupted.
The crowd fell silent.
Above Rufus Del Ymir, a brilliant mark burned into existence. Pure. Overwhelming. Divine.
The Sigil of the Hero.
The plaza exploded into worship.
Kneeling.
Tears.
Voices shouting salvation.
Rufus smiled.
And the world revolved around him from that moment onward.
Rikuo barely noticed.
He was watching the orb above his own head.
It flickered.
Cracked.
And shattered into symbols that made no sense to anyone watching.
$#%$#%$#%#
Whispers spread like disease.
Confusion turned into ridicule.
Ridicule turned into indifference.
“No meaningful Sigil,” someone declared.
Just like that, the light faded.
No cheers.
No expectations.
Only silence.
Yet beneath Rikuo’s skin, something ancient stirred.
The Right Side of the Crown of God awakened—
—and his body screamed in protest.
He swallowed the blood rising in his throat and forced himself to stand straight.
No one noticed.
That night, the world split into before and after.
Rufus became a hero.
Alessia began to drift away.
And Rikuo learned how easy it was to be left behind.
Praise replaced friendship.
Fame replaced trust.
And affection became a currency he could no longer afford.
Still—
He smiled.
He helped others.
He endured.
Because that was all he knew how to do.
Somewhere far beyond mortal sight, space itself bent ever so slightly.
A crown with no throne acknowledged its bearer.
And fate, amused and cruel, whispered:
Not all kings are meant to rule.
Some are meant to break.
End of Prologue
