Tale of the Fake Hero

Wolf had told him, “The instructor from the ‘Temple of the Sword of Bravery’ will come pick you up soon.”

The Light Dragon’s garden was beautiful and golden. Even though it was not the correct season, the fruits on the peach trees gave off a sweet fragrance, making it all seem like a hazy dream.

What caught Kaisen’s attention over the out-of-this-world scent was a god’s statue flashing with golden light in the distance.

[Dragon Sage, Rain Ludwig.]

The statue was 14 meters high and 25 meters in circumference, featuring a wise man made of gold gazing majestically across the garden. The pedestal held a long inscription engraved in bold letters.

Kaisen narrowed his eyes and tried to look at the words, but he could not read the dragon tongue.

An unfamiliar voice read the inscription for him. “Everything humanity hoped for from the gods, everything the gods wanted to give humans, the Dragon Sage, Lane Ludwig, provided in their stead.”

The first thing that caught Kaisen’s eye when he looked to the side in surprise was the white hair. Next, he noticed the golden eyes under the white hair. Going by her bronze skin, she was from the continent of Adrion. That aside, she was physically similar to Kamila and Raminea.

In short, she was a Fake Warrior.

“Do you know what this means?” she asked.

“…”

“It’s a promise that, if you work hard, you will get a reward. The gods promise that no one will be able to steal that reward.”

The unknown Fake Warrior scoffed and then shook her head. “They say the peace brought about by dragonkin such as Kars Dragonia and Halls Drakyus was a Golden Age for the humans living peacefully in that era. Rain Ludwig created the Silver Age to follow the Golden Age. We cannot even begin to imagine what such an era was like.”

“Who are you…?” Kaisen asked.

“My name is Olliere Dune Jeraye. I’m the chief instructor of the 998th Fake Warrior Cadet Corps.”

Kaisen would only later learn that the surname ‘Jeraye’ indicated a retired member with no specified holy sword.

Golden eyes scanned Kaisen’s body up and down. “Anyway, I never thought a boy would come… This is the first time in the history of the Fake Warriors. Of course, you haven’t been appointed yet.”

“…”

“Have people told you you’re unfriendly? Come on, there’s something you have to do before you join the school. By the way, don’t even think about meeting your classmates. Since you’re a man, we can’t officially enroll you in the class, and you’d be a huge irritant to the adolescent girls.”

His classmates? Fake Warrior training wasn’t personal. Training was provided for each batch, and those who survived until the end of the hellish training were eligible to be chosen by the holy swords.

“Anyway, so you’ve been on the battlefield for four years under Kamila? No, it’s been five years now?” Olliere asked as she walked along the ascending corridor of the Imperial Court.

People they met along the way bowed in respect to the Fake Warrior. “That must have been hard. That bitch has a temper.”

“Did you know Kamila?” Kaisen asked in a polite tone, the product of Wolf’s repeated guidance in etiquette while they were fleeing the old empire, swept away in the flames of war, to the Calnal Peninsula.

“Of course, but the specifics are a secret.”

“Oh, right…”

“What’s that tattoo on your face?” she asked.

“It was engraved by the uruk who killed my mother.”

“Who was your mother?”

“She was an ordinary mother.”

“Damn, this is the first time I’ve heard of an uruk killing an ordinary woman and then engraving a prey’s brand on her son. That’s from the highest-ranking clan, Balkrush.”

‘Ah, she’s interested because it involves the uruk.’ That was what being an instructor was like.

The corners of Olliere’s mouth rose slightly, as if she were amused by Kaisen’s silence. “This way. Come in.”

Kaisen rode an elevator for the first time that day.

“Close the wire mesh. Do you see the number here? 22. This is where you will be living in the future, so remember it.”

The Light Dragon’s palace was high in the sky, and maybe the elderly were worried about their joints should they have to climb all those stairs.

Crrreeeeaaaakkkk—

The lift ascended, accompanied by the sound of winding chains.

The city of the Light Dragon visible beyond the lift’s railing grew smaller and smaller under the shimmering sun.

‘Oh, my God.’ Kaisen’s eyes widened.

“If you lean on the glass too much, you’ll fall and die if it breaks,” Olliere commented.

‘So the world has places like this.’ Kaisen felt dizzy as he thought about how he was seeing the same unbelievable sight both his mother and teacher had seen.

“Oh, Kaisen… you have a weapon? Could I have it for a moment?” She wanted the shortsword Kaisen was wearing on his belt.

Kaisen handed his mother’s keepsake over.

“During the training period for Fake Warrior cadets, a ban on swords is put in place.”

“A ban on swords?”

“Yeah. Even if you have a sword, you must not unsheathe it. If you do, you’ll be immediately expelled. It’s a basic test of a cadet’s will and control.” Olliere took a hemp cord from her pocket and tied it around the hilt and scabbard of the shortsword so that it couldn’t be drawn by mistake.

“No matter what happens?” Kaisen asked.

“Even if your life is threatened,” Olliere responded.

“Even if the thing threatening your life is right in front of you?”

“You’re funnier than I thought.” Olliere returned the shortsword tied with a hemp cord.

The sound of the winding chains stopped, and the elevator halted.

There were various training facilities on the 22nd floor, and Olliere led Kaisen to a rock with a sword stuck deep inside of it.

She pointed to the hilt of the sword. “Pull out this sword, Kaisen.”

“?”

“If you aren’t able to do it, you will be in the initial round of disqualification this year. In short, you won’t be able to become a Fake Warrior. You have two months. If you don’t pull out the sword within that time, it’s over.”

That was the end of Olliere’s guidance. With that, the Fake Warrior turned and left.

Kaisen had no time to ask any questions and just stood and looked at the rock.

What kind of test was it? At first, he thought it was a test of strength, so he clenched his teeth until one of his molars threatened to break and tried to pull it out. The sword didn’t even move.

Was it a test of magical power? Even if he circulated mana through his body and grabbed the hilt of the sword while using Mana Chain and Mana Heart…

‘What the hell? Is it even possible to pull this thing out?’

One day, two days, five days, ten days, a fortnight, and one month…

A feeling of nervousness slowly came over him. Each day, as the sun rose and set, uruk blades continued to stain the world with blood, but time had stopped for him there.

“In the first place, a boy as a Fake Warrior doesn’t make sense, and even his background is unclear?”

“The tattoo on his face is the emblem of the uruks. It’s blasphemous.”

He heard the other trainees gossiping about him whenever he wrestled with the sword in the rock or went to the cafeteria for food.

He had never paid attention to what other people said before, but those voices eroded his willpower. Was he not allowed to continue? Could he not be a Fake Warrior like his mother and Kamila because he was born a man?

Still, his attempts continued, even after the flesh on his palms was shredded and soaked with blood, even after his tendons felt like they were about to break.

The sword remained the same.

Olliere Dune Jeraye, who watched Kaisen’s struggles from afar, felt frustrated. ‘This guy isn’t it, Kamila.’ She couldn’t believe he hadn’t been able to wake up the mass-produced holy sword, Dialae, for almost two months.

The process of awakening it was only the starting point and a test to determine if you could communicate with a holy sword. If a candidate couldn’t awaken the sword, it proved they lacked the most important aspect of a Fake Warrior—the ability to handle a holy sword.

‘I had high expectations because he’s the disciple you chose and raised over anyone else, but as expected, it’s too much for a man.’

The fact that a Fake Warrior’s disciple couldn’t pull out the sword was a disgrace to their teacher. Typically, every single one of the Fake Warriors’ disciples completed the test in one day.

Kamila, who was an exemplary example of a great hero, had finished it in one go.

‘In contrast to you, who was superior to everyone else, the boy will be kicked out tomorrow.’ Olliere turned around with a sigh and got into the elevator.

‘Shit…’ Kaisen ended up hitting the rock with his fist. His flesh tore again, and blood flowed. ‘Shit, shit, shit…’

Would it end like that? He had stopped truly trying a long time ago, but the two months were almost over.

Nothing had progressed. If the sword had moved even a little, there would have been a glimmer of hope.

‘It would be better to just return to the battlefield as quickly as possible…’ He felt such frustration more often than not, but he couldn’t just turn and leave the rock.

Aradamantel was not just a sword; it was not a sign of honor given to a warrior. To Kaisen, Aradamantel was a yoke, a bond between two people that had been broken and could never be complete again.

“Then, please take care of Aradamantel.” Hadn’t Kamila left her will to him? It looked like he… he…

* * *

Reaper Scans

Translator – Rainypup

Proofreader – ilafy

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* * *

“You shouldn’t try to remove it using force.” The words seemingly emerged from the wind amidst the gentle evening breeze.

The girl stood next to the rock; her silver hair, looking as if it had been imbued with moonlight, danced in the wind. It was somehow fundamentally different from a Fake Warrior’s hair.

Her detached-looking gaze toward Kaisen showed him eyes of a blue hue clearer than sapphire, and even her eyebrows were pure-white and elegant.

“What?” Kaisen mumbled. The girl was beautiful. He had never been interested in the opposite sex, but his heart trembled the moment he saw her.

There was a mysterious playfulness in her eyes, which seemed to look at the world through an unstained lens. Strangely enough, she was wearing a patient’s gown. Every time the hem of her dress fluttered, he caught a glimpse of the bandages and scars covering various parts of her body.

“It is not a worldly sword. It has a heart and a name. You must listen to that voice.”

Rather than trying to describe it, he thought it would be more appropriate to say she was a mystery. She didn’t look like a person at all—she was a girl as mysterious as Mother Nature: the sun, the moon, the stars, streams, and ancient trees.

The mysterious girl slowly approached and touched the sword stuck in the rock. With a kind look in his direction, she took Kaisen’s hand and brought it to the hilt of the sword.

“Say your name first. That’s what you do when you first talk to someone, right?” she asked.

“…Kaisen.” Kaisen subconsciously answered.

There was a moment of silence between the two, and then laughter escaped the girl’s mouth. Even the sound of it was mysterious, seeming to ripple, bend, and excitedly take shape.

The girl said, “My name is Tarcio, but I didn’t mean for you to tell me. Talk to the sword, Dialae.”

He felt embarrassed and cleared his throat. Trying to hide his embarrassment, he turned his gaze away from the girl and looked at the sword.

“I am Kaisen.” He didn’t have the time to think about how strange of a suggestion it was to tell a sword, nothing more than a piece of metal, his name.

Images of Kamila shouting her name every time she pulled out Aradamantel passed through his head.

“I am Kamila Alter Aradamantel.”

“I am Lia Alter Tas Alfo.”

Lia Riler had done the same thing before their fight in Aquitaina. Could it be that it was the prayer… that Lia spoke of back then?

Pain rushed through his heart. The hilt of the sword pulsated and began to emit a faint light.

“It… it worked…?” Unable to control his overwhelming emotions, he looked at Tarcio.

The girl grinned. “Yes. That’s it. Now tell the holy sword about your heart.”

“My heart?”

“That’s the prayer. Just say your wish, and the sword will answer.”

Speak his heart, and then the sword would answer?

Although Tarcio’s words caused more questions to form in his mind, they had the power to make the listener obey.

Still, talking to himself, even if he were talking to a sword… but he couldn’t turn back. “I want you out of the rock.”

“You have to tell the truth. Why do you want to take it out?”

“Because I have to be a Fake Warrior.”

“How come?”

“Because I promised to do so.”

“Then say that to this one, not me.”

It was not difficult to transform the sadness of burning the body of a dead teacher into anger. Why should he hesitate or be ashamed of?

Kaisen gripped his necklace, which was radiating cold energy, and held it out to Dialae. He hoped the necklace could tell a story that he could not. “Help me pass this test, Dialae. I must. No matter what… please.”

Perhaps because the sincerity contained in his was not conveyed, the holy sword did not show any response.

“Dialae said she would help you.”

The holy sword emitted a light.

Whoong, whoong, whoong, whoong, whoong—

He couldn’t help but doubt his eyes. The sword that didn’t even move for two months… was emitting waves of light and emerging from the rock.

He held the blade more gently than when he unsheathed a sword as it flickered with a dazzling light.

“It worked?” A hot and cold shiver ran down his spine and paralyzed him, and he knelt down with the sword in hand. “It worked?”

He could receive training as a Fake Warrior and succeed Kamila.

While he was thrilled, doubts arose. Why did that girl named Tarcio help him?

All the trainees looked at Kaisen like a bug and gave him looks that seemed to say he was merely a boy overestimating himself in the Temple of the Sword of Bravery. They just hoped he would be expelled quickly.

‘What about this person?’

Tarcia lowered her gaze and gave a strange answer. “It’s what Sarillion wanted.”

“Sa…what? Who is that?” Kaisen asked.

“A holy sword.”

“A holy sword?”

“I didn’t help you. I just showed you how to compete. Do your best in the future, Kaisen.” The girl flowed through his life like a spring breeze and vanished just as quickly.

It was only later that he’d learn who she was, what she’d been doing there, and how the meeting would influence his fate.

* * *

*You pulled out Dialae…? How? I remember you couldn’t even touch it.”

“Tarcio told me how to pray.”

“What?” The next day, Olliere Dune Jeraye raised her eyebrows when she went to check on how he was doing. He didn’t know how to pray? A direct disciple of a Fake Warrior? Wasn’t prayer the first thing they were supposed to teach their disciples?

She didn’t know what it meant, but did that mean that it wasn’t that he wasn’t talented, but that he just didn’t know how? That was also embarrassing to the point of astonishment, but what was even more absurd was the other thing he mentioned.

“Tarcio? her?”

“What is it?” Kaisen asked.

“Don’t mention that name, and don’t ask why.”

*Why? I’d like to thank her.”

“I thought I told you not to ask? If you, hmm, you might have the right to know, but there’s a first-class censorship on the matter.”

“I don’t know what it means to have the right to know.”

“Stop. Put that matter aside and follow me. Don’t speak of who helped you. It’s strictly forbidden for anyone to give advice during the first prayer test, even the instructors.”

“Okay, but where are we going?”

Olliere glanced back, and there was a faint smile on the corner of her mouth that others couldn’t place. It was probably a smile of satisfaction.

It was both a sad and happy moment to be able to teach the disciple of an old friend who had died and left for the heavens.

“With this, you have proven your qualifications to become a Fake Warrior. Kaisen, now it is time to begin the training process in earnest.”