I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

Though the hour had slipped into deep night, the town remained bright and bustling, alive with celebration.

Crowds had gathered near the statue of Himmel in the square, where a storyteller recounted the adventures of Himmel the Hero and his companions. Though the stories sounded exaggerated to Aesc and the others, the children listened with wide-eyed delight.

The streets glowed orange with lantern light and were thick with the aromas of grilled meats and sweets—a kind of sensory hell for anyone trying to diet. Laughter, drink, and noise filled the air, and the atmosphere was nothing short of joyful.

Even children, who'd usually be ushered to bed by now, were allowed to stay up and play. Perhaps the adults hoped that the departed loved ones returning from heaven would be comforted by the sight of their children's radiant smiles.

This must be the kind of scene Himmel always dreamed of seeing.

Because she had witnessed firsthand what the world looked like before the Demon King's defeat, Frieren could feel it now—deep and certain.

"We really did save the world, didn't we, Himmel?"

"You're getting sentimental again, aren't you, Frieren?"

A gentle voice spoke behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

"I thought I heard Himmel's name just now. You're missing him again."

Aesc stepped up beside her, holding an apple in one hand. From this angle, she had a clear view of Himmel's statue in the distance.

"You never used to care for festivals like this… Is this change also because of Himmel?"

"Probably. Who knows?"

Frieren shrugged.

She'd not only heard of the Night of Returning Souls—she'd experienced it before.

And yet, when Fern had asked her earlier, Frieren had said, "I don't really know much about it." That was simply because she'd never cared.

"To me, festivals like this were always foolish."

Frieren's voice held a cool, detached edge. "What makes death terrifying is that it's final. Once someone dies, they're dead—completely severed from life."

"Before I met Himmel and the others, I believed that death led only to nothingness. For thousands of years, that was the dominant belief. Even when more and more people started believing in heaven, I always doubted its existence. No one had ever observed a soul. There was no evidence that heaven existed or not."

"So the dead can't come back. No matter how much the living want to prove to them that they're happy, that they're doing well… the dead can't see it. That's why I thought festivals like this were meaningless. At least, back then I did."

As she spoke, Frieren never took her eyes off Himmel's statue. Her words were more like a monologue, whispered to a long-lost friend.

Behind her, Aesc simply listened—quiet and patient. A gentle smile played on her lips, soft and steady like a mountain stream.

"Maybe you're right. No matter how happy they try to be, no matter how bright their smiles… the dead probably can't see them."

Lowering her gaze slightly, Aesc's blue eyes shimmered like rippling lake water.

"But even so, that doesn't make it meaningless."

"Did you know, Frieren? I think… humans die three times."

"The first is when their body ceases to function—when their organs shut down, their heart stops, they stop breathing, and the brain goes quiet. That's what most people consider 'death.' But in my eyes, that's not the real end."

"The second death is when the world acknowledges their passing. Humans are social beings. We define ourselves by our connections. Our identity is anchored in the web of relationships we weave. When someone is cut from that web, that's the second death."

"But even then, they're not truly gone. Because traces of them remain—their ideas, their actions, their legacy. As long as they're remembered, they still live on in someone's heart."

"And then comes the third death: when they are completely forgotten. When every mark they left on the world fades. When no one remembers their name, their thoughts, their deeds. When it's as if they never existed at all. Only then have they truly died."

"Frieren, the loss of life is painful. But to be completely forgotten? That is far worse. It leaves behind no sorrow or fear—just an endless, hollow emptiness. One that neither the forgotten nor the forgetters can accept."

"Maybe that's what the Night of Returning Souls is really about… A day where people remind themselves not to forget. A festival where we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to take off our brave masks and linger in our memories, even if the world demands we keep moving forward."

As Aesc spoke, Frieren recalled a memory from long ago…

They had just defeated a vicious monster and saved a child.

Himmel knelt before the frightened boy, gently patting his head and speaking softly.

"You're safe now. Go on—run back to your village. And no more sneaking out on your own, okay?"

He watched until the child disappeared into the distance before standing up.

"Do these little things really matter, Himmel?" Heiter asked. He wasn't referring to the battle, but to the way Himmel had comforted the boy.

It was expected of heroes to slay monsters and save lives. But no one demanded that they also soothe hearts.

"What are you talking about, Heiter?" Himmel smiled. "A hero should make everyone feel safe."

"Anyone can spout pretty words like that," Heiter replied flatly. "I want to hear the real reason."

"The real reason, huh…"

Himmel scratched his head, looking a little troubled. After a pause, he smiled ruefully.

"I guess I just think… if I try hard enough—if I leave enough behind in this world—maybe I won't be forgotten so easily."

Back then, when Himmel said those words… what was he looking at?

Was it the faraway sky?

…Or was it Frieren?

She couldn't remember.

Himmel, is that why you left behind so many statues? Because you were afraid of being forgotten?

Frieren found herself wondering.

Then she thought of that village they'd visited recently—Skoll, where a powerful spell could forcibly make people dream. But the villagers weren't afraid of it. They welcomed it, celebrated it like a festival.

Why?

Because on that night, they could see the dead again. Or people they would never meet again in life.

Even if it was just a fleeting dream, they still longed for it.

Even if waking meant returning to their struggles, they still cherished the night of reunion.

Memories long buried—even things they themselves had forgotten—came flooding back in those dreams. That was what made the Dream-Soul Festival so alluring.

"…Do you think Himmel will be forgotten, too?"

Frieren asked softly.

"No one can be remembered forever. 'Eternal' is just a wish we project onto others."

Aesc smiled. "Isn't that already happening? Those altered statues—they still call him 'Himmel,' but the figure's someone we don't recognize. And the stories are getting more and more exaggerated, turning from legend into pure myth. Someday, the real Himmel—the one we knew—will vanish entirely from memory."

Because it was inevitable, it hurt all the more.

Frieren had a friend once, a dwarf named Fluru. He'd lived over four hundred years—long-lived even by dwarf standards.

Fluru's wife had been a human. After she died, he spent year after year guarding the village she loved. He sat by the gate through rain and snow, until he was so old he could barely speak. But still, he stayed.

To Fluru, his wife had been someone irreplaceable. And yet, he had forgotten everything about her—her face, her voice, her eyes. All those treasured memories… gone.

When Aesc and Frieren visited him again years later, he couldn't even remember why he was guarding the village. But he remained there, driven by some forgotten, but still deeply important, reason.

To the villagers, Fluru was like a guardian deity. None of them knew why he was so devoted—they only knew he'd been there even before their great-grandparents were born.

During their travels with Himmel, Frieren and Aesc had once heard Fluru tell his story.

"You're a fine hero, Himmel," Fluru had said. "If anyone can defeat the Demon King and bring peace—just like my wife always dreamed—it's you. Let me carry your tale into the future."

To which Himmel replied:

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think it's necessary, Fluru. I've got Aesc, Frieren, and Eisen with me."

"I'm not exactly as long-lived as the elves, you know," Eisen pointed out.

"True. Then I guess it's up to Aesc and Frieren."

Himmel had turned and smiled at them.

"They'll carry our memories into the future."

"I don't really care either way," Frieren had replied, expressionless.

"I just hope Himmel's story becomes super popular someday," Aesc had said with a shrug and a grin.

And as for that time Himmel wanted to give Frieren a lovingly curated "handsome hero photo collection" to help her remember him better, only to be coldly rejected… well, that wasn't worth discussing.

…

Frieren placed a hand over her chest.

She didn't want to forget.

For Fluru, the days spent with his wife had been his most cherished memories.

And for her, it was the journey she shared with Himmel.

He was the one who gave her the desire to understand humanity.

"…But yeah, let's skip the photo collection. Keeping that in my memory would just be a waste of space."

Her tone was dismissive, but the smile on her lips was gentle and full of warmth.

"Hm? Did you say something just now, Frieren?"

Aesc hadn't caught her murmur.

"I said… If someday, Himmel really is forgotten by everyone in the world—then I'll remember him."

Frieren's eyes curved like crescent moons. "And Heiter, Eisen, Fluru, Stark, Fern… and you, Aesc. I'll carry all the memories I shared with you into the future."

Aesc blinked, and then smiled—a bright, soft smile like the first bloom of snow camellias.

"That sounds wonderful."

Laughter and chatter filled the air around them, but it didn't disturb the quiet moment they shared, lost in memory.

After a pause, Aesc spoke again.

"As long as you remember, they'll never experience their third death. They'll always live on inside you."

"And… I once heard something interesting: As long as someone on Earth still remembers them, the dead remain in heaven. Only when everyone forgets do they leave heaven and begin their next life."

"In other words… as long as they remain in your memories, you'll be able to see them again in the Soul Resting Grounds. Even if it takes a hundred, a thousand, or ten thousand years… You can do that, Frieren. Because your lifespan is nearly eternal."

After the heavy talk, Aesc's smile turned playful.

"Though, now that I think about it… it's only been a few decades, and already people have changed Himmel's image so much. What if in a few thousand years, he gets reimagined as a beautiful swordswoman or something?"

"Come on, that's a stretch."

"Why not? Your mentor Flamme went from a woman to a random old man, didn't she?"

"That's different. People just assume that great accomplishments come from men. But flipping it to female? That's another story."

"Eh, I wouldn't be so sure. Maybe in the future, girls will be more popular than boys."

Aesc wasn't swayed. If King Arthur can be genderbent, why not Himmel?