This World Needs a Hero

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To start with the conclusion, the interviews went smoothly.

A total of 822 applicants, not only freshmen but also current students who were willing to abandon their existing Unir courses and apply.

There was no intention to accept current students lacking in relative talent. While they were excellent individuals, the world needed not just ordinary heroes but a ‘second Hero.’

However, due to the overwhelming dissatisfaction, there was a decision to provide an opportunity for interviews. This led to the creation of slots specifically for current students.

In reality, the chosen individuals were already roughly decided.

In the week between the pre-explanation session and the start of interviews, efforts were invested in investigating the students.

Using polymorph, infiltrating the freshman dorms and training grounds in the form of animals. While it consumed more mental energy than taking on a human form, the information gathered was invaluable.

“The harvest was abundant.”

The period just before the start of the semester was a time when students naturally became interested in each other.

In their respective groups, they had grown up as the most talented prodigies, drawing all kinds of attention and focus.

The existence of equally or more exceptional competitors was unfamiliar and often irritating.

“Origin, status, and even race were different, making it perfect for conflict.”

Rosenstark originally encouraged competition, so there was no one to stop those who wanted to fight.

Exploration through friendships happened everywhere, and some even clashed swords in the training grounds.

Rumors spread quickly, making it easy to assess the students’ abilities.

With the core talents’ capabilities fully understood, the interviews proceeded smoothly.

“Number 611, you may leave now.”

I looked at the frozen 611.

With her striking golden hair and curly emerald green eyes, she was quite an impressive girl.

Her name was Evergreen Solintale, and beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.

“I-I haven’t done anything yet… I couldn’t say anything, not even about my motivation for applying!”

“That’s enough. Seems like there’s nothing more to see.”

“Yes, yes? Ah… I see.”

She stood up with a disappointed expression, tears welling up in her eyes.

“R-Really, I have to leave?”

“Indeed.”

There was nothing more to see. Her talents were already confirmed in the dormitory training grounds.

Despite coming from a rural area, she displayed exceptionally remarkable talents. Looking at her with the Iris of Laplace, this impression became even more certain.

“Hng.”

Evergreen deeply bowed to me, her steps lacking vigor, and left the auditorium.

Unintentionally, a hint of laughter appeared in the eyes of the applicants who were sitting. Some seemed pleased with the elimination of a competitor.

I spoke to one of them.

“Gerald Bryce. Your main weapon is a spear, right?”

“Yes! That’s correct! Our Bryce family has been inventing spear techniques for generations to deal with demonic beings…”

“No need for chatter. Assume you’re facing an enemy much larger than yourself and demonstrate your most confident spear techniques.”

“…Yes!”

On the other hand, for students with somewhat ambiguous skills, I instructed them to showcase various talents.

Depending on the comments from the Iris of Laplace, they would either pass or be put on hold.

“About one minute per person on average.”

While it felt like I had put effort into the process, the candidates probably had different thoughts.

Like a grader in an excessively easy exam, I marked O or X above the names of the students in this group. Of course, X was overwhelmingly dominant.

“You may all leave now.”

Candidates from number 611 to 620 exited the auditorium.

Some wore confident expressions, while others sighed deeply, scratching their heads.

The reactions varied.

I silently watched their departing figures.

“This group, like the others, seems to have no surprises.”

…Every group was like that.

Detailed resumes. Information gathered by infiltrating the dormitories separately.

After compiling these two, it was inevitable that the outlines of who would pass were revealed. Thus, the interview for ‘Extreme’ proceeded without a hitch, just as expected.

…Except for one person.

About an hour ago, I recalled the group I interviewed.

Originally, there shouldn’t have been any successful applicants in that group.

‘Her name was Nyhill, right?’

A girl with black hair and black eyes, with no remarkable features other than a petite stature, passed. Her background and resume were both ordinary.

However, she, who was entirely out of my interest, elicited a response from the Iris of Laplace.

‘Her evaluation is quite good…’

Until now, only three students received high praise from the Iris of Laplace.

The daughter of the tribal chief, the disciple of the Mercenary King, and the heir of the Swordsmanship Clan.

While Nyhill’s evaluation didn’t reach their level, it was definitely outstanding compared to the other kids.

‘Wait a minute. Could it be?’

When I was pondering this sudden thought, the temporary assistant Pia approached.

“Professor, I will announce the next group.”

“Please go ahead.”

Numbers 621 to 630.

‘Certainly…’

I shifted my gaze to the desk. The spread-out application forms. In the midst of it, one conspicuous portrait was peeking out.

‘Right. She was here.’

A girl with fiery, almost burning, hair–a cliché expression, but there was no other way to describe it. She had the same-colored eyes, looking expressionlessly in my direction.

The intense color surrounding her features contrasted sharply with her pale skin, shining even more vividly.

I rolled her name in my mouth.

‘Leciel Hyasin…’

In recent days, her story could be heard anywhere in the academy. Before the appearance of the Hero.

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The granddaughter of the sword master who was once the strongest in swordsmanship, and the top candidate to be raised to confront the Demon King.

She was in the next group.

“Extreme’s” interview waiting room. Because there were so many applicants, the kids were divided into waiting areas according to their numbers. Surprisingly, the waiting room for the important interview was quite noisy.

Precisely, only the area around one girl was particularly bustling.

“Ugh, I’m so nervous. Aren’t you nervous?”

“Would she be nervous? She’s bound to pass. Right, Leciel?”

“Look at her fair skin. Tell me what cosmetics she uses later.”

“She moved into the dorm last week, right? Why didn’t I see her once… Let’s greet each other next time!”

All attention was focused on her. It was Leciel, who could be considered the most famous among her peers.

But she had never set foot in social circles until now.

‘Wow, why didn’t she appear at the debutante ball when she’s so pretty?’

‘They say she’s so powerful? She doesn’t look like that at all.’

The hidden lineage of the sword master and the next-generation strongest (beautiful immortal).

Since these titles surpassed even the glory of most major nobles, the kids tried their best to say at least one word to Leciel.

For those of lower status, it was an enthusiasm that was enough to be pushed away.

“….”

However, no one noticed that Leciel’s expression was gradually turning colder. The one who mentioned her grandmother was the one who broke the silence.

“But I heard you’re acquainted with the Sword Master and the Hero. So, are you close to the Hero too?”

The last question finally snapped Leciel’s thin patience.

“…Shut up.”

“…Huh?”

“Just shut up.”

…Shut up.

The noble words that he thought he would never hear in his lifetime echoed in the ears of the young aristocrat.

He doubted his ears for a moment.

‘Did I hear it wrong?’

But it was real. The follow-up continued.

“Can’t you hear?”

“No, I…”

“I said shut up.”

However, the voice saying so was incredibly dry, unlike its content. Perhaps that’s why it sounded even more contemptuous.

A bubbling sound followed.

Then, a chilly silence enveloped the waiting room.

“….”

The kids around Leciel retreated, wearing expressions mixed with bewilderment and anger, turning their goodwill into hostility and their interest into indifference.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Wow. Looks like her personality is rotten.”

If there was a thought, it couldn’t be like this. These are the heirs who are likely to control the empire in the future.

They will be classmates and seniors to spend the next few years together. But to show such drastic behavior…

“….”

Whether they murmured or remained silent, Leciel rested her chin thoughtfully.

Of course, she knew very well what people expected from the granddaughter of the Sword Master. There were times when she lived quite entangled with such expectations.

But not anymore. She won’t be like that in the future.

‘…For what should I please?’

Alone again, Leciel turned away from the kids entirely. Instead, she stared at the firmly closed door and thought of the man behind it – Ted Redymer.

‘I came to meet you.’

Her emotions towards the Hero were different from those of others. Certainly, there was admiration. It was impossible for a swordswoman not to admire him.

However, behind that admiration lurked emotions that were hard to describe.

He was a constant presence from her childhood, like a shadow.

“Leciel, you were born with great talent. You should be able to reach Ted with your skills.”

“I know. Achieving this much at your age is rare. But it’s still not enough. It’s too insufficient.”

“Something went wrong. Is this the limit of Hiyashin?”

Leciel’s grandmother, Zion Hiyashin, was not just a great swordswoman; she was also a harsh teacher.

Having experienced the overwhelming genius of Ted Redymer, the Sword Master was not satisfied with the size of her granddaughter’s talent.

The constant comparisons and rigorous training never ceased.

Still, Leciel was okay with it.

‘Because there were expectations. Because there was attention.’

So, at a young age, she continued to hold onto it.

Instead of a doll, she held a wooden sword. Instead of daily life, she embraced training.

She held on without giving up, using all her strength.

“Enough. It’s all meaningless.”

“As long as he’s around, the title of Sword Master won’t return to Hiyashin.”

She didn’t expect her grandmother to let go first. Interest and expectations quickly faded away. Even the swordsmanship guidance withered.

Leciel gritted her teeth unconsciously.

‘This is my last chance.’

She thought of her grandmother, who seemed to have completely abandoned her, who had allowed her to go to Rosenstark. It was the last time she pinned her hopes.

‘Ted Redymer, breaking him with a sword, reclaiming the title of Sword Master for Hiyashin.’

Certainly, it would be difficult immediately. But receiving his teachings, she believed that someday she might surpass him. Leciel held onto that belief firmly.

“Applicants numbered 621 to 630, please enter.”

…But soon, Leciel realized that she was harboring a significant misconception.

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