Hell Mode: Volume 3, page 31
The reason why Helmios now looked so worried despite having just succeeded in their mission was because he could not stop thinking about the fortresses: they now had to fend for themselves without him or anyone in his party’s presence. They were in the thick of battle at this very moment, and were likely having a tough time without the support from “the most powerful that humanity could muster.”
And so Helmios’s party rushed back to the front lines as fast as they could.
Several days later, they arrived to find one of the fortresses already fallen. When the Demon Lord Army conquered a fortress, they slaughtered everyone inside, never bothering to take hostages. Not a single being was left moving within the compound aside from the monsters making a mess as they gorged themselves on human remains.
After they had finished wiping out all the monsters in the fortress, Helmios asked his party in a monotone voice, “Just...how much longer do we have to keep doing this?”
“Until the Demon Lord is killed, duh,” Anissa replied.
Lying before Helmios was a large number of human corpses, desperation and terror still etched on their faces—if they still had faces, that is. He felt like their eyes were accusing him, begrudging him for not being here, not being enough. Most soldiers sent to the battlefield had yet to reach twenty—they were but teenagers: so young, so full of promise. Helmios shuddered to consider exactly how many such lives had been shed like rainwater here on the front lines over the years.
No matter how many fortresses he protected, it never seemed to affect the Demon Lord Army’s advances. However, when he went off to strike down an enemy general, a fortress still fell, leading to the deaths of thousands. And no matter how many fortresses fell, no matter how many soldiers died, no matter how much blood Helmios and his companions spilled, the leaders of the Five Continent Alliance would still trumpet to the world that their strategy was a success. Their reports to their home nations would contain only one line: the Hero defeated an enemy general.
After continuous defeats over decades, after losing so much, the people needed hope. If there was no hope, the quivering new soldiers would be unable to fight. The contradiction in his role as the so-called “hope of humanity” was hardly lost on Helmios.
A short while later, Helmios received his next mission: he was to head into enemy territory to take on another general. Because the plan had gone so well last time, the Five Continent Alliance had decided to have him execute it again.
At the time, the next wave of monsters was already advancing on the front lines. Helmios entreated the general of the targeted fortress to hold on until his return, promising to complete his mission as soon as he could.
＊ ＊ ＊
Helmios’s party swiftly made their way through a forest across treacherous footing. This was a shortcut to the enemy general’s hideout that the party’s scout had risked his life to find. Soon they encountered a figure wearing a mask and a clown’s outfit standing in their path as if he was supposed to meet them here.
He sniffed. “Took you a while. I’ve been waiting.”
“Are you the general directing the Army’s forces this time?” Helmios asked the man warily.
“That’s right, Helmios! The name’s Kyubel. I hope you remember it!” the man replied in a casual tone like he was speaking to a friend.
Anissa narrowed her eyes. “What’s with this guy? He a clown? All dressed up in some weird costume.” She seemed to be doubting whether Kyubel truly was the enemy commander.
“Don’t let your guard down,” Helmios warned. “He’s a Demonic Deity.”
“You know I won’t. Wait, Demonic Deity? Another one?”
Just now, Helmios had attempted to use his Analyze skill on Kyubel, but to no avail; his skill did not work on Demonic Deities. In other words, this man named Kyubel must have been one of them.
During their exchange, Kyubel had been laughing flippantly as if he had let down his guard entirely.
“Everyone, ready yourselves.” Helmios prompted his companions to get into formation. They were all aware of just how formidable an enemy a Demonic Deity was, so they stood on high alert.
“RAH! DIE!”
Sword Lord Anissa made the first move, charging straight in with her greatsword held high above her head. She had activated one of her skills, yet Kyubel managed to stop her blade by merely raising a single listless hand. However, the humans already knew that Demonic Deities were incredibly powerful and were therefore unsurprised. Every move they made was to allow Helmios to get close.
Seizing the moment Kyubel was occupied stopping Anissa’s swing, Helmios ducked in. He murmured, “God Strike” under his breath, causing his orichalcum sword to give off a dazzling glow. When he grew close enough, he thrust the sword forward, aiming for the clown’s heart with unerring accuracy.
Thunk.
“Interesting. So this is the power that Elmea gave you. I can see how it’d kill Demonic Deities. Looks like he really went all out for you.”
“What?!”
Helmios could not believe his eyes. Kyubel did not stop his strike with a hand like he did with Anissa’s. Rather, Helmios’s sword had stopped right above his heart without Kyubel even doing anything. The general peered down at the shining weapon with curiosity, touching it all over.
“By the way—sorry, but that skill of yours doesn’t work on me. ’Cus I’m not a Demonic Deity. I’m a Greater Demonic Deity.” After casually correcting Helmios’s misunderstanding, Kyubel drove a fist into the Hero’s abdomen, completely ignoring the orichalcum armor he was wearing.
“Oof!”
“H-Helmios!” Anissa called out before turning back to Kyubel. “You bastard! Let go of my sword!”
Helmios’s companions watched in shock as the Hero was sent flying, yet they valiantly surged forward in attack nonetheless. Helmios blacked out before he had time to tell them to run.
＊ ＊ ＊
One day later, Helmios awoke in a makeshift bed. A man that he recognized approached him.
“Ohhh, Lord Helmios! You’ve come to!” It was the Alliance general who was supposed to be leading the defensive forces back at the fortress.
“Wh-Where am I?” Helmios shook his head, trying to clear his head, then suddenly gasped. “Where is everyone?!”
“You’re at the fortress right now,” the general replied. He then explained that a scout had found Helmios unconscious and brought him back.
“What about my companions?! Where are they?!” Helmios demanded, realizing that he did not see any of them in the room and immediately imagining the worst.
“My lord, you just woke up. I’m not so sure you want to see their remains right away...”
“Their...remains? All of them?”
“I’m very sorry to say so, but...”
The scout had apparently found Helmios lying among the corpses of his party members. Kyubel was already gone. In other words, Kyubel had intentionally chosen not to finish Helmios off.
“I...see...”
Helmios hung his head upon understanding the situation. He knew that in less than a month, he would have another full party of new companions. Given its size, Giamut had plenty of Saints and Sword Lords. Many who attended the Academy dreamed of fighting alongside the “hope of humanity.”
Helmios looked around, taking in his surroundings. Here, at least, the casualties had not climbed very high just yet. After failing his mission and losing his companions, Helmios resolved to at least protect this fortress.
He glanced at his orichalcum armor and sword, which stood propped up against the wall, then turned his gaze to the palm of his hand. He had long since reached the point where the gods stopped giving him trials, and it was unlikely that he would find equipment better than what he already had. He had asked himself what more he could do millions, billions of times, but he never found an answer.
Knock, knock.
“Hm? What is it? Enter.” Helmios looked toward the door, wondering if the general was back to say something he had forgotten to say earlier. However, the person who entered was an elf he did not recognize.
“Excuse me. I heard that Hero Helmios has returned, so...”
“Do you have business with me?”
“Yes, sir. The Sovereign of Spirits in Rohzenheim wishes to see you.”
“Is this about that elven squad I saved again? I already turned down the reward he offered.”
Some time ago, a relief squad of elven healers had come under attack by the Demon Lord Army. Helmios saved them, and afterward, he received word that Rohzen wanted to thank him in person, but he politely declined.
“That is not it. Lord Rohzen has delivered a new prophecy: ‘The light of hope shall soon shine on the world. It will also be the hope of Hero Helmios.’ Please, sir, come to Rohzenheim.”
“My hope...?”
Did such a thing even exist? Real, true hope—not made of papier-mâché and ostentatiously embellished?
And so the Hero who was on the verge of giving in to despair set out for the Ratashian Academy in search of a new hope.
Short Story 2: The Struggles of Pelomas the Merchant
On a certain day during Allen and his friends’ first summer break, they had returned to their base to find a guest waiting for them. The servants informed Allen that the guest claimed to be acquainted with him, saying his name was Pelomas.
Did Pelomas really come all this way just to meet me?
When Allen dropped by the parlor, Pelomas sprang up from the sofa like a spring and bounded up to him.
“You’re here! You’re finally back! I’ve been waiting for ages! I’ve looked everywhere for you, you know!”
“Hey, Pelomas. It’s been a while.”
Apparently he came because he had business with Allen. Allen suggested that they discuss it over dinner.
Pelomas was one of Allen’s childhood friends who had the Merchant Talent. He was currently attending a commercial school in the royal capital. Just like the Academy, his school was also out on summer break at the moment, so he had seized the opportunity to come find Allen.
As Cecil and Keel did not know Pelomas, Allen introduced him to them. On the other side of the table, Krena and Dogora had already begun digging into the feast laid out by the servants with gusto. Cecil looked him over, then at Allen.
“So you still had other childhood friends. How do I put it... This one seems normal.”
How rude!
“How’d you even find me here anyway?” Allen asked out of curiosity.
“I went around and asked so many places. The Academy and the Adventurer’s Guild, for starters,” Pelomas replied, trying to convey just how much hardship he had gone through.
“Well, okay... What can I do for you, then?”
“That’s, well...” Upon being asked the purpose of his visit, Pelomas suddenly blushed and started fidgeting.
Unable to bear it any longer, Cecil cut in. “Well, out with it. What is it?”
Eventually, Pelomas managed to start talking, beginning with, “So, I, uh, went to ask Mr. Chester for permission to court Fiona.”
Chester was a man with significant influence in Granvelle City who owned the city’s biggest and most high-class inn. And Pelomas had gone to him with a request—namely, permission to court Chester’s daughter Fiona, whom he had fallen in love with at first sight, with the intention of marriage. The man gave this response: “Show me what you’re worth. If I determine you to be worthy of my daughter, then I’ll give you permission.”
Pelomas had the next three years—basically, until his graduation from the commercial school—to prove his worth. He was studying as hard as he could, but he had grown uneasy and thus sought out Allen for help. He finished his account by lamenting his failure to make any headway whatsoever over the past six months.
Fiona...is that Fiona, right? I never knew she had ties to Pelomas.
Allen knew the girl whom Pelomas was speaking of. He had saved her once when she was stuck inside a carriage and about to be eaten by a murdergalsh. Her father had rewarded Allen with gold coins, which he then used to purchase his very first mithril sword. Allen still recalled the memory fondly.
“Now I see how you’re from the same village as Allen!” Cecil exclaimed. She knew that Chester was a magnate who owned other high-class inns in the royal capital and multiple cities across Ratash. In fact, he had provided loans and other support to House Granvelle on many occasions.
In other words, Pelomas, the son of the village chief of a tiny frontier village, was attempting to win the hand of the heiress of a hotel empire.
“Is everyone you know like this?” Keel asked Allen wryly.
Cecil whirled on him. “Are you talking about me as well? Hmm?”
“Huh? That’s not what I said!” Keel protested.
Allen was glad to see that the two of them had gotten close enough to exchange this sort of banter.
“So, Allen...” Cecil turned back around. “What’re you gonna do? You’ll help him, right?”
“I...will? Uh, Cecil, you look really excited about this for some reason.”
“Of course I am! It sounds like fun!”
Ah, is this what I think it is? She wants to play matchmaker with Fiona and Pelomas?
Back when Allen worked at House Granvelle, Fiona had called on the mansion every so often. After Allen rescued her, the frequency of her visits increased to at least once a month. Allen knew that she and Cecil were on rather bad terms. Due to their differences—commoner and noble, rich and poor—he had witnessed their attempts to one-up each other many times before coming to Academy City.
After giving Pelomas’s predicament some thought, Allen came up with what he thought was the best way to force Chester to acknowledge Pelomas as a merchant.
“How about you open your own store and buy out Mr. Chester’s?”
“Huh? B-Buy out?” This bold idea of buying out the store from one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom left Pelomas at a loss for words.
It was true that anyone twelve years or older could open their own shop—it was simply a matter of submitting an application with the Merchant’s Guild. However, Pelomas could not imagine accomplishing what Allen had suggested within decades, and he only had three years.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Cecil agreed. “Since you’re a merchant, you should definitely open your own store. But you’ll need a name for it. ‘Store Pelomas’ just wouldn’t cut it.”
As she started brainstorming after summarily dismissing Pelomas’s name, Krena and Dogora chose this time to join the conversation.
“You should make it ‘Pelomas Meats,’ then!”
“No way, ‘Pelomas Weapons’ is better.”
Uh, why is Pelomas’s company being forced to specialize in only meats or weapons?
Sensing that no one was taking his problem seriously, Pelomas leaped to his feet and shouted, “Please stop it! I’m serious about Fiona!”
Oooof, it’s like I’m watching someone live out their adolescence right in front of me. If we were in my old world, Pelomas would be in seventh grade. Wait, huh?
As Allen was giving Pelomas a look of amusement and understanding, he suddenly noticed a heat haze rising up around Pelomas’s body, indicating that his friend had activated his Extra Skill.
“Hold on, why can you use that?!” Dogora, who had only recently learned to use it himself, made a face at Pelomas as if adding “when you’re just...you!”
“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I figured out how to activate it not long ago. It’ll, uh, settle down soon,” Pelomas said apologetically as he sat back down and took a few deep breaths. When he had calmed down a little, he explained that for some reason, whenever he thought about Fiona, his Extra Skill would activate on its own.
Allen, who had grown curious about what effects a Merchant’s Extra Skill would have, stopped Pelomas from deactivating it. “Wait a moment. What does your Extra Skill actually do?”
“Huh? Um...it’s called Libra, and it tells me how much things are worth.” Upon having his Extra Skill checked at his school, Pelomas had learned that it enabled him to compare the value of goods and to convert those values into various currencies.
“The value of goods, huh...” Allen rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then picked up a pen. “Okay, how much is this pen worth?”
Without hesitation, Pelomas replied, “One silver and twenty copper.”
Astoundingly, the price he gave was exactly how much Allen had paid for it at the nearby stationery store. Allen proceeded to point to several things, such as the molmo fruit on the table, and Pelomas accurately stated their prices down to the copper.
“How about these, then?” Allen took out a bottle and a red fruit from his grimoire’s Storage.
Pelomas was quite surprised from seeing Allen’s Storage at work for the first time, but he quickly calmed down and priced the bottle at two silver and the fruit at one copper before adding, “That bottle is filled with sauce made from that red fruit, right?”
Allen nodded. “That’s right.”
Just as Pelomas had guessed, what Allen had taken out was a bottle of a special sauce made from the red fruit that Cecil had once tried to pick while sitting on Allen’s shoulders. Allen and the head chef had developed the recipe themselves after much trial and error; the process involved drying the fruit before the head chef turned it into a sauce. It had a refreshing flavor that paired amazingly well with great boar meat.
Allen’s companions seemed confused about where he was going with this line of questioning as Pelomas looked at him, worried.
“Mm, I think this just might work,” Allen nodded with satisfaction. This skill is more than enough to be Pelomas’s ticket to demonstrate his worth to Chester.
Pelomas’s face lit up. “Really?! You mean it?!”
“Hold on, take it back a few steps,” Cecil cut in. “Explain what you’re thinking to us properly.”
“To sum it up, Pelomas has the ability to create new products without needing to do market research,” Allen replied before proceeding to elaborate on the usefulness of Libra.
