I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

Having a family is, in most cases, considered a liability for a Hero.

As Felix once pointed out, for those who aim at the symbol that is the Hero, it’s nothing more than an easy weak point. If you're lucky, you end up just being threatened—otherwise, it usually ends poorly.
But this generation’s Hero is treated a bit differently.
To begin with, Gray’s father, Lionel, is a warrior of such caliber that there’s nowhere he wouldn’t be respected. But more importantly—

[“I’ve received the message. I’ll take the appropriate measures immediately.”]
“Please do.”
[“I’ll have the citizens along the route evacuated, and dispatch the Knights’ Order to minimize any potential damage. I’ll inform the Holy Church as well. Even if we can’t expect the Round Table, it’d be helpful to have the priests on our side.”]

Lionel is also a Grand Duke with tremendous social influence.
He’s more than capable of playing the role of a powerful ally who can support the Hero publicly.
You could call him the ideal version of the ‘Hero’s family.’

But even in such an ideal case—
There are still things that can never be replaced.
[…Gray. My child.]

“Yes.”
[“Are you really planning to do this alone?”]
“Dad.”

[“I’m listening.”]
“I was alone when I took down Arta too.”
[…]

“I don’t need it. Anyone’s help.”
Even when she defeated the dragon known as a Calamity at the age of fifteen, Gray was alone.
…Even her father, Lionel, had been of no help to her.
By then, she was already at a level he could never hope to reach.

[“It’s not that I think you can’t win against whoever it is, but…”]
“Then that’s all that matters.”
[…]

“I’m a Hero, Dad. The guardian of humanity.”
[“…That’s true.”]
Lionel reluctantly agreed.

Beneath that reluctant acceptance was a deep, unmistakable {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} fear—that no matter how powerful she was, even the strongest of humanity could still be hurt.
Of course any parent would hope there’d be someone, anyone, to help keep that from happening.
Not that saying it would make her listen.
[…]

Lionel swallowed down the sigh that was about to escape.
This child has always been like this.
He didn’t know exactly when it started.

But she seemed trapped in this obsessive belief that if she didn’t go out and handle things herself, something terrible would happen.
And Lionel knew exactly where that emotion came from.
[“...I just hope everything ends without trouble.”]

He also knew that what he was about to say would touch that very wound.
[“Next week… is your mother’s death anniversary.”]
“—”

[“Let’s go together to visit her.”]
Gray’s breath drew inward, sinking into the depths.
From the back of her mind, memories long buried under dust surged up like a flood.

A city reduced to ash by Arta’s flames.
Her own face, marked with the stains of dried tears.
And her mother’s corpse.

[“Gray?”]
“…”
[“Gray, my dear—”]

“…I’m hanging up.”
Gray set down the communicator and quietly closed her eyes.
A Hero is a master of combat. And that means they can instantly perceive any irregularities in their body.

Her heart rate was spiking to bizarre levels.
Cold sweat poured from her entire body from the stress.
“…”

She gently reached for the Holy Sword she’d left beside her bed.
A tool granted to the one who must protect others—symbol of that duty.
If she didn’t do it.

If she didn’t handle it all herself—
—Gray, my daughter.
—I swear, I’ll save you, no matter what—
People die needlessly.

You’re alone, Gray.
You always have been.
And you always must be.

All responsibility is hers alone. It must never be passed on to someone else.
She kept repeating that truth to herself. So she’d never forget.
And when she finally came to her senses—

She realized her hand, gripping the hilt so tightly it could’ve shattered, was trembling.
“…”
Gray silently shot to her feet.

I need to go out.
That was the only thought that crossed her clouded mind.
I don’t want to sit still.

She didn’t know why.
But she had to move. Otherwise, she felt like she’d go insane.
Maybe do some sword practice—or else—

“…”
Gray paused.
Alongside her usual instinct to head straight for sword training, another option came to mind—something she normally would never even think of.

…That’s weird.
She scowled and grabbed her coat.
Why am I thinking about him?

It almost felt like—
She was becoming dependent on him.
To think of him first when she was feeling this way…

Her expression twisted even more.
As if the very thought disgusted her.
Don’t be ridiculous.

That wasn’t going to happen.
“…”
…It must not happen.

***
Training to maintain concentration varies from person to person, but everyone could agree that what Headmaster Sior demanded was brutal.
—Lose focus even once and you're dead. That’s how high-level this technique is.

He said it himself, after all.
The process of channeling the immense mana supplied by the Star’s Tear into altering the form of the Holy Sword remained the same—manifesting the Hero’s body.
But this time, the goal wasn’t to recreate the Hero’s body exactly.

It was to fuse the Holy Sword’s mana into Carlyle’s body itself.
In other words, spreading the Hero’s presence, as it exists in the sword, like a layer over his own body.
Like a kind of merger.

…Hmm.
“…”
[“…Is that really the best analogy?”]

“Shut up. I’m trying to focus.”
Carlyle snapped back sharply and slowly moved with his training sword in hand.
He controlled the mana flowing through his body, moving the sword along the path the Hero had taught him.

Slowly.
Very slowly.
It wasn’t just about moving slow. The point was to complete the motions at a consistently slow pace.

There was no better training for sustaining focus while suppressing the overwhelming mana inside his body.
After five minutes of that, Carlyle dropped the sword, sweat pouring from him like a waterfall.
It felt like his entire body was being ripped apart.

“…Ughhh…”
Carlyle collapsed to the ground with a groan, drained.
Even for him, this kind of high-risk training wasn’t something he was used to.

If he lost control of the mana even slightly, his circuits could rupture and kill him on the spot. The Hero’s mana was basically a pile of explosives.
The headmaster hadn’t been exaggerating.
To use the “technique” the headmaster wanted, the bare minimum requirement was being able to move while holding the Hero’s mana together inside your body.

And in that state—hold it for three seconds.
If he could combine it with his mental state—then supposedly, he could do something extraordinary.
“…I wonder what that ‘extraordinary’ thing is. He kept rambling on with some metaphysical explanation.”

He’d started going on about bending laws through mana deployment or whatever.
Carlyle hadn’t understood any of it. It all sounded like gibberish.
And of course, the man hadn’t explained anything further.

[“Hmm. I understood it just fine, though.”]
“What? Then tell me.”
[“I can’t explain it to someone so lacking in romance.”]

“….”
Oh, right.
He was a shameless romantic to the core.

Carlyle let out a dry laugh and pulled himself up again.
He was exhausted, but there was no time to be lying around.
Two days.

That’s how long it would take the Dark Mirror to reach this place.
Just two days…
There wouldn’t be time for much more preparation. The most he could do was get used to this sensation, just like the headmaster wanted.

Vespa and Panhyma would just have to make it work on the field.
The goal was—
“A swift and decisive resolution.”

The main reason being—
“There’s no damn way I’m letting those bastards take even the first syllable of the word ‘credit.’”
He’d make sure the First Prince and Second Princess were left in the dust like dogs chasing chickens. So they couldn’t twist the story later.

So no matter how hard it was, he had to train with everything he had.
Carlyle rose again and drew in mana.
Time to refocus.

“What are you doing?”
—or so he wanted.
But the moment he saw Gray staring directly at him from close range, his concentration shattered.

“…”
He’d nearly died from the mana backfiring.
How the hell had she gotten that close without making a sound?

“You were mumbling to yourself non-stop. I figured it might be something funny.”
Hmph.
To someone else, talking to the Holy Sword probably did look like he was just muttering nonsense.

“…”
This is embarrassing.
He must’ve looked like some weirdo babbling to himself.

Carlyle twitched his mouth into the closest thing he could manage to a smile.
“It’s nothing, my lady.”
“…Really?”

Gray scuffed her toe against the floor.
She looked like she had a thousand things backed up in her throat, but none of them could come out.
Watching her, Carlyle tilted his head.

Come to think of it—why had she come to find him?
“My lady.”
And from past experience—

Whenever Gray got like this, it was usually because—
“Did something happen? Are you alright?”
Her toe froze mid-scruff.

“…What could possibly be wrong? I’m a Hero. What kind of trouble could I have?”
“You look like something’s wrong. That’s just how you seem to me.”
“…”

“If it’s anything at all, please tell me. I’ll help you.”
“…”
She glared at him like something about him deeply pissed her off.

“My lady?”
“…Don’t do that.”
“Pardon?”

“Don’t just… barge into my head like that. Don’t.”
“…”
You’d think he was some kind of mind reader.

As Carlyle tilted his head in confusion, Gray absentmindedly rubbed at her now slightly flushed earlobe.
With her other hand, she waved him away.
“…I’m using this place. If you’re going to train, go do it somewhere else.”

“Yes, understood.”
Well, there was no reason he had to train here in front of her anyway.
As Carlyle stood to leave, Gray suddenly called out behind him.

“Hey.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“What are you… gathering in your body?”

“…”
Carlyle’s body stiffened.
…Hmph.

It was rare enough for Gray to take an interest in anything someone else was doing—and it just had to be something involving the Holy Sword.
“…Just mana control practice. Nothing particularly interesting.”
“……I see.”

Gray replied flatly and turned away.
Seeing her lose interest, Carlyle quickly exited the training hall.
“…”

But even after he left—
Gray continued staring at the spot where he’d been standing with an uneasy look.
He didn’t seem to realize it.

But when he was practicing storing something in his body, the mana definitely took on a form.
Maybe no one else noticed—but Gray saw it clearly.
It was a human shape. Overlaid on Carlyle’s body like a second figure.

That figure was unmistakably—
Something…
That looked a lot like me.

Like a grown-up version of herself.
…She could almost swear it had been staring straight into her.