The Hero is a legacy passed down through generations.
That is only natural.
For the eternal cycle of light and darkness to continue rolling, agents of both—the Hero and the Demon King—are needed.
So a question arises here.
‘Who is the Hero who possesses the greatest power?’
Most would probably point to the most recent Hero and that’s understandable, since civilization and technology tend to progress with each passing era.
Humans are no exception.
As time goes by, each generation of Heroes hears tales of their predecessors, absorbs their techniques and experiences, and wields even greater strength.
From that perspective, the latest Hero, Velator the Hero, could be called the strongest of all but that’s merely a theoretical fallacy.
In theory, Velator should be the strongest, having inherited all the memories and experiences of past Heroes, but in reality, that’s not the case because there exists a wall called ‘talent’ for humans.
And especially for a Hero, that talent is all the more prominent.
Moreover, evidence that Velator is not the strongest, but in fact the weakest, is well documented in one piece of forgotten history—the “Wings of Light.”
“…The First Hero was a being to whom the word ‘perfection’ was most suited. With an insatiable drive for improvement, a courage unafraid of death, and a presence that spread terror to foes and mercy and love to humans, he was, in every sense, the most fitting agent of light.”
The First Hero.
A brief eulogy remains for him, even though not even his name is remembered.
Considering that this book of light was left by Saint Emperor Gramoa II, then called the Holy Emperor, one can imagine just how extraordinary the First Hero must have been.
Moreover—
“…From the third generation onward, the Heroes became corrupted. No longer true agents of courage, justice, and love who spread hope throughout the continent, they became but actors preaching a tainted light…”
The Wings of Light also recorded criticism of the corrupted Heroes.
It means that those called Heroes from the third generation onward were mere actors performing the light.
Of course, there’s a reason for that.
An era of desire and corruption.
With each new generation, fewer and fewer truly worthy of the title of Hero appeared but the god of light still wished that His glory and faith would continue to rule the Gritia Continent and so He chose unworthy individuals and forced them into the role of Hero.
Forcing them to play a part to earn the same reverence as before.
What does that mean?
It means that, except for the First, Second, and Third Heroes, none could wield the true power of a Hero.
And among these generations, the most perfect of all—the First—was said to be enjoying eternal rest somewhere in the palace of light where the goddess of light dwells.
“The First Hero, is it?”
I guessed—no, I was certain.
The person standing before me was unmistakably the First Hero.
And then.
“Do you… know me?”
Golden eyes gleaming like amber.
Even with just a shift of his gaze, the pressure pressed down upon the air.
“Ugh!”
Even though the gaze wasn’t direct, Manuvia groaned, oppressed by the sheer presence.
Though he had yet to fully regain his strength due to the seal, even the one called the Thunder God was staggering under that stare.
That alone proved just how powerful the First Hero standing before me truly was.
“I read about you. The most perfect, the one most worthy of being called a Hero.”
“You flatter me.”
As expected of a Hero.
His modest response held not a trace of falsehood or pretense.
“Why?” He asked me.
“What?”
“Why do you oppose the light? Light is hope. Without light, the world is nothing but despair and fear.”
On the surface, it sounded like an undeniable truth.
However—
“That would be true—if it were a radiant light.”
Of course, the world needs light.
“But a false light is worse than none at all. You, First Hero, the one closest to light—you should know this best.”
“….”
This time, he could not answer easily.
Because he knew.
He knew that the present light was a false one.
It was not a brilliant light that illuminated the darkness.
“People often deceive themselves. They think gods cannot fall. That they are immutable, absolute… But they’re wrong. Even gods can fall, and can become corrupted. The so-called goddess of light is a fallen being.”
“……”
“It seems we cannot narrow the gap in our views.”
The First Hero did not listen to everything I had to say.
No, more precisely, he had no intention of listening.
“…But turning away won’t make the truth disappear.”
I gave him a quiet warning.
“I am one who follows and guides the light. If you try to hinder the will of light, then as its guide, I shall judge you.”
“No matter how much truth you speak, if you ignore it, it’s just like reciting scripture to a cow’s ears.”
Our resolves were clear.
If our wills were so at odds, there was only one way left—to see whose conviction would prevail.
“Do not underestimate me. I am nothing like the Heroes who came after!”
I’d felt it from the moment he appeared, but the instant he steeled his resolve, he stepped into another realm entirely.
“KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA!”
The crown and armor of light, and the wings, resonated together as they began to radiate a brilliant glow.
The light was so dazzling that it seemed almost transparent.
‘Origin Light.’
A transparent light, closest to the origin of all light—wielded only by the First Hero.
And that meant—
It quite literally meant being unseen.
“…”
I looked at my shoulder.
Something sharp flashed past.
From the wound revealed between the torn armor—
“Drip”
Blood trickled out.
If I hadn’t twisted my body by instinct, it wouldn’t have been just my armor, but my left arm that had been severed.
Formless.
Origin Light has no shape.
That light is transparent, and only a handful can even perceive it and the First Hero is one who can wield such light.
“Ssshhh—”
His body, too, shrouded in Origin Light, vanished from the spot.
It wasn’t mere invisibility.
No form, no sound, no trace whatsoever.
A perfect transparency—this was the power of the First Hero, the one called the most perfect.
Even if I could see him, it would be difficult to dodge his attacks; but now, nothing at all could be seen.
“Wh-What kind of absurd…”
“An amusing ability.”
Unlike the startled Manuvia, I remained unfazed.
Indeed, the ability to become completely invisible by reflecting all light with Origin Light—it was a flawless transparency, even to my eyes.
If I couldn’t break that power, I’d truly be in peril but that would not happen.
“I thought I made it clear. Light is useless against me.”
I’d told the former Heroes, and Velator as well.
Light is useless against me.
Yet even the First Hero was repeating that same mistake.
And so, I would make him pay the price.
“Thud!”
I stomped the ground once.
It was not an action meant to threaten anyone.
With the stomp, the world around me began to turn gray.
The Chaos Realm.
It was the beginning.
By releasing the aura of chaos I held, I turned the area into the Chaos Realm.
“Impossible!”
Immediately, the bewildered voice of the First Hero rang out.
“Ssshhh—”
His invisible form revealed itself as the power faded.
It was inevitable.
Turning the area into the Chaos Realm—
As I’ve said again and again, chaos devours order.
Even the origin of light is no exception.
The light that had concealed the First Hero vanished, and his form was fully revealed.
And more—
“What is this absurd barrier?!”
My barrier, spreading throughout the domain, could not be broken by any attempt from the First Hero.
It had to be that way.
Disorder is the nemesis of order.
Unless the First Hero possessed overwhelming power far beyond mine, this Chaos Realm I constructed would not collapse.
“My…my power?!”
An unbreakable barrier.
But the real reason the First Hero was shocked was something else.
Disorder—
Power Nullification.
It was the absolute law within this domain.
So long as one was inside the Chaos Realm, no power—be it light, aura, magic, poison—nothing could be used.
“Isn’t that invincible?”
“A barrier that completely seals the enemy’s powers—does that really exist?”
It does.
But my own power is also sealed.
I tried to stir the energy within me.
Nothing responded.
Aura, magic, poison, even my own chaos—none answered my will.
No, to be precise, it was more accurate to say that the energies themselves were annihilated by the barrier.
“You as well…”
As expected of the First Hero.
He realized my own abilities had been nullified too.
At that moment, his attitude changed.
“What a foolish move you’ve made.”
Neither of us could use our powers but from the First Hero’s perspective, this was a highly favorable situation.
“I am unlike the Heroes who followed. Through innate talent, hard work, and countless experiences, I have reached the ultimate state.”
“Sriiing—”
He drew the sword at his waist.
Was it the sword of light, Luminaire, once used by Velator?
No, it was different from the Hero’s sword I’d seen before.
Unlike the ornate, decorated Luminaire, this sword was pure white, without a single marking or engraving.
Lumen.
A sword woven from the hair of the goddess of light.
As it was forged from part of a god, its power was incomparable to Luminaire, a sword made for show.
Of course, within the Chaos Realm, the sword’s abilities vanished—but even its presence alone made it a formidable weapon.
The same was true of the pure white armor he wore.
The armor called Lacrima, crafted from the tears of the goddess of light, was an all-powerful defense, protecting its wearer from all physical, magical, and elemental attacks.
And me?
With even my chaos aura gone, I was no more than an ordinary person in a white t-shirt and jeans—just a regular human living in the modern world.
The difference was clear.
The First Hero, a genius honed by relentless improvement and armed with all the relics of the gods, looked down on me from above.
I stared back at him and slowly I bent down and picked up a branch lying on the ground.
After testing its weight and length with a few swings—
“Come.” I beckoned, provoking him.
That was a provocation not even a Buddha could tolerate.
“Haaa!” With a shout as if to finish it in a single strike, the First Hero charged.
No abilities.
But with remarkable talent, experience, and training, his movements had reached a speed close to the realm of the gods.
“Shhhk—”
He drew a path through the air.
There was no wasted motion—truly the most fitting form for a strike.
But—
“It’s full of openings.”
To me, that attack was nothing more than a crude, amateurish swing.
He was a genius, that was true.
A genius someone like me—a mere mortal—could never hope to match with talent alone but if you train for decades, for centuries, for a thousand years, the gap does not merely narrow; it is overtaken.
“Ssshh!”
And now, what I unleashed was the ‘perfect cut’ forged by a thousand years of discipline.
And that cut severed the First Hero at the waist—a single, fatal strike that ended his life in an instant.