In a run-down, shabby inn room with no other guests to be found.
Friet, the hero of the Rhine Kingdom, was there.
At the headboard of a crude and dirty bed. Leaning his back against a wall with peeling whitewash, exhaling sighs full of despair.
‘…How did it come to this?’
Why on earth.
Though his exposed body bore no wounds, Friet’s expression was horribly contorted with intense pain.
Because regret and frustration, emotions he had never even considered when he first set out as a hero, were clawing and tearing at his heart.
Was it just his expression that was miserable?
Dark circles under his eyes and a gloomy gaze. Greasy black hair unwashed for days and sunken cheeks.
Unlike the public assessment that ‘at least his face is decent,’ the current Friet looked no different from a degenerate who would sell even his parents for alcohol and drugs.
‘Was I wrong?’
With an appearance like a crow with broken wings fallen into a sewer, Friet kept recalling and ruminating on his memories, repeating self-denial and regret.
‘Did I do something wrong?’
Memories of the past rise one by one in his mind, clouded by fatigue and frustration.
The confusion when the hero’s mark descended upon him, who had been nothing more than a rural commoner.
The pressure when he was recognized as this generation’s hero and bestowed with the Rhine Kingdom’s holy sword, ‘Nibelung’.
The exhilaration he felt when he stood at the center of praise and cheers as the protagonist of a grand departure ceremony, along with the three party members assigned by the royal family.
Until then, Friet’s heart had been full of hope.
Even the ‘hero’s duty’ that had felt so heavy, he believed that if he just worked hard enough, if he was with his companions, he could surely accomplish it.
However.
-You lost…? To mere hobgoblins?
It didn’t take long for the praise towards the new hero to turn into disappointment and contempt.
“…You really are damn incompetent, aren’t you.”
It didn’t take long for the party members who had shaken hands with Friet with expectant expressions to realize they had drawn the short straw.
* * *
Imelia, Irina, and Brunhilde hadn’t criticized Friet from the start.
Even when Friet suffered a crushing defeat against hobgoblins, which were just goblins albeit higher-ranking ones, they didn’t mock him but rather comforted him, though they were a bit perplexed.
“Cheer up, Friet! It’s your first time, so these things can happen. If you work hard and gain experience from now on, you’ll surely become stronger!”
“Tch, let’s just chalk this up to bad luck and move on. You just need to do better next time. You can do that, right?”
Imelia encouraged Friet, holding his left hand firmly with both of her hands, and Irina, while clicking her tongue openly, didn’t go as far as to criticize him.
“Well, you were just a commoner with no connection to battle before… so I suppose it’s possible to lose. Don’t mind it. If you don’t know how to fight, I’ll teach you.”
The last person, Brunhilde, didn’t stop at simple consolation but even offered to personally teach Friet swordsmanship.
It didn’t mean she would pass on her own swordsmanship.
Her swordsmanship was a longsword technique focused on thrusting, modified from her family’s spear technique. It wasn’t very compatible with Nibelung, which had the form of a heavy greatsword.
Therefore, Brunhilde only taught Friet the basics as a swordsman, methods of physical training, and tips for dealing with various enemies.
Several months passed like that.
Friet’s party managed to conquer three or four dungeons through hard struggles, and Brunhilde despaired at the results.
Because Friet’s talent for swordsmanship, even when evaluated as positively as possible, was at a level that could only be described as disastrous.
“He certainly has enthusiasm… but how can he have so little talent…”
Even Brunhilde, who had seen countless swordsmen as a knight of the Rhine Kingdom, was unable to contain her shock, saying she had never seen someone so lacking in talent in her life.
Moreover, it would have been fortunate if he only lacked talent in swordsmanship. Even when experimentally given other cold weapons, it was the same.
Spears thrust into empty air, and axes and blunt weapons missed and struck the walls.
Thanks to his height of 179cm and the muscles gained from physical training, the power of his attacks was somewhat decent… but what’s the point if he couldn’t hit anything?
Unable to watch anymore, Irina tried to teach him archery, suggesting that he might be better off with a bow, but even she gave up after just one day, throwing up her hands.
He couldn’t even begin to learn magic or holy miracles.
Friet had no talent at all. To the extent that one might wonder if he was under some kind of curse.
How could a party function properly when the hero who should be its central pillar was so incompetent?
Brunhilde was a swordswoman without equal among knights of her age, and Irina, befitting an elf who had lived for 80 years, was an archer with outstanding skills… but even they had their limits.
If they were to explore dungeons as a 4-person party, at the very least, while they were holding off the strong enemies, shouldn’t the remaining members be able to handle the small fry?
For Friet, this was impossible.
Far from clearing out the small fry, he was more often than not getting beaten up by them.
Brunhilde and Irina had to deal with the strong enemies as quickly as possible by themselves, and then save Friet and Imelia who had fallen into crisis.
In other words, this meant that during dungeon exploration, if just three elite-level monsters appeared, the party would face the risk of total annihilation.
In the end, the Rhine Kingdom’s hero party was unable to properly break through even mid-level dungeons, falling into a state of stagnation without any impressive achievements.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop them…”
“It’s good that you know how to be sorry. Since apologizing is the only thing you’re good at, you should at least do that well. Right?”
It was around this time. When Irina’s tone towards Friet began to be mixed with sarcasm.
That was the first crack.
* * *
With the hero party they had supported so much struggling without achieving any decent results, the nobles of the Rhine Kingdom also began to despise and contemn Friet.
They shouldn’t have expected anything from a mere commoner.
Perhaps the Goddess had made a mistake?
If it was going to be like this, wouldn’t it be better to eliminate this generation’s hero and wait for the next?
In the social circles of the nobles, the name Friet had long since fallen to become a laughingstock worse than a jester. All sorts of criticism and sarcasm were poured out without restraint.
Even in such a situation, Friet persevered, fighting monsters and actively helping those who asked for assistance, but…
“Friet… you’re not the hero I was hoping for.”
The catastrophe came in an instant.
In the form of an approach from Gunther, the half-elf hero of the Burgundy Kingdom who was rapidly rising in popularity.
The declaration of party transfer was like a bolt from the blue for Friet.
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to just give up? Unlike Gunther, you can’t even properly handle a single orc warrior. With such skills, if you keep fighting, you’ll only make things harder for your party members.”
Before Friet’s eyes, stunned by the shock, the priestess Imelia mocked him under the guise of concern.
While clinging tightly to Gunther’s side, hugging his left arm between her breasts.
An expression of affection so blatant it would make one’s face flush involuntarily.
Although what shocked Friet was not this display of affection but the tone full of mockery, that action was nonetheless equally stunning.
To make matters worse, Imelia wasn’t the only one declaring her transfer.
“Irina…?”
“What. Don’t talk to me, you mayfly larva.”
The elf archer who had been his comrade, Irina, was also standing next to Gunther, not him. Along with an icy, contemptuous gaze he had never seen before.
“I’ve been sick and tired of you all this time, you know? You really chose your words poorly, and I mean really poorly.”
The contempt in her words, spat out as if chewing them, was incomparably stronger than usual.
“I’d heard that short-lived races were incompetent, but who would have known they’d be this incompetent? It’s a thousand blessings that I can switch now.”
With those final words, Irina left Friet’s party.
“Well, it’s come to this. I’m a bit sorry, but don’t resent me, okay? After all, it’s because you’re incompetent.”
While her buttocks were held in Gunther’s right hand as he looked down at Friet with a smug face.
And then.
“Out of consideration for our time together, I won’t say anything harsh… but I too intend to leave your party.”
“Brunhilde. Even you…?”
Even the female knight who had been his teacher and comrade… no, in fact, she had been more than that to Friet, was now leaving his side.
“I sincerely regret that things have turned out this way, but honestly, there’s no future in staying here.”
Unlike the other two women, Brunhilde didn’t mock Friet.
In her view, Friet merely lacked strength and talent, but his mindset itself was impeccable both as a knight and as a hero.
The problem was that the most important quality required of a hero was not character, but strength.
Strength enough to break through deep-level dungeons and attack demon territory.
A hero who lacked this strength, or even the prospect of acquiring it, was ultimately nothing more than a jester with a grand title.
Just like her party leader Friet, who had ended up with the nickname ‘Incompetent Hero’.
That’s why Brunhilde had no choice but to leave Friet’s party.
Friet, who couldn’t even defeat a single orc warrior despite being trained with every method she could employ.
With such a Friet, there was no way to fulfill her secret wish.
“So rather… rather, Gunther would be better. He seems to have some flaws in his character, but his strength is worth expecting.”
“I, I’ll try harder…”
Friet uttered commonplace words of persuasion with a trembling voice, trying somehow to change Brunhilde’s mind.
“It’s impossible. You have no talent.”
Of course, if the situation could have been persuaded with such words, she wouldn’t have even considered transferring to another party in the first place.
Therefore, Brunhilde turned her head and declared the end of their relationship.
“I’m saying this for your own good. Give up on being a hero that doesn’t suit you, return the holy sword, and go back to your hometown.”
While offering a final piece of advice with a minimum of kindness.
“Go back to your hometown and live as a farmer. Then the Goddess will probably recall the hero’s mark she mistakenly bestowed.”
With that advice, Brunhilde turned her back on Friet and left his side.
In the same direction that Imelia, Irina, and Gunther had gone.
That broke Friet’s spirit.