I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [466]

Thirty years after Himmel the Hero's death.

After leaving that underground chamber, Frieren and the others spent several days trekking through the forest before arriving at the village of Gris.

"Let's rest here before heading to the next town."

That was Frieren's decision.

Passing through the gates and walking into the village along a rough dirt road, her gaze swept across the surrounding buildings.

"What is it, Frieren?"

Walking beside her, Aesc looked over with a gentle smile warm as a spring day. "Is there something about this place that's bothering you?"

"Not really… It just feels rare, that's all."

Her voice was flat, unreadable. "This place doesn't seem to have changed much since the last time I came. When we went to visit Himmel or back in Moruf, the cities had changed so much I got lost… And that hot spring town—after only eighty years, it vanished completely."

Eighty years—what amounts to a lifetime for most people—was something Frieren casually referred to as only.

Even after all the ways Himmel had changed her, the little things she said would still inadvertently reveal the fundamental difference of being an ageless elf.

Aesc blinked her lake-blue eyes and said softly, "Well, Himmel lived in the royal capital of the Central Kingdom. Eighty years is more than enough time for it to change completely. And Moruf thrived thanks to a remarkable lord."

"As for the hot spring town, that one's even easier to understand. It was built around the nearby hot springs, but those dried up decades ago. Without the springs, the town couldn't survive."

"I know… Of course I know what you're saying."

Frieren lowered her gaze, her voice growing quieter. "I just… don't like it, that's all. One moment of inattention, and it's already gone forever."

Seeing her like this, Aesc's usual smile softened into something else—tenderness, deep and still as autumn water, quietly rippling in her eyes.

She raised a hand to gently pat Frieren's head, only for the elf to swat it away.

"Stop patting my head. I'm not a child."

"A little unfair, don't you think? At Himmel's funeral, Heiter patted your head and you didn't hit him nearly as hard."

"…I forgot, that time."

The Frieren who had always seemed indifferent to everything, like her emotions and sense of time had been sealed away, had cried at Himmel's funeral.

It was as though—only on that day—she truly understood what death meant. That "from this moment on, the person in that coffin will never open his eyes again, will never appear before me again, and I'll only ever see him again in memory" kind of understanding.

Aesc's thoughts began to drift.

It was the night they returned to the capital, after the Demon King had been defeated.

The same night the Hero's party disbanded.

Heiter returned to the church, Himmel started looking for work, Eisen said he'd head home for a while, and Frieren once again set off in search of magic.

That night, Aesc had a conversation with Himmel.

She'd first offered her congratulations for the Demon King's defeat, and Himmel, as always, replied with a smile.

"I knew you'd show up, Aesc."

"What, not happy to see me?"

Aesc smiled playfully. "I mean, I didn't go into the Demon King's castle with you guys, but I traveled with you for a while, didn't I? Surely our bond's not that weak?"

"But you were with us the whole time, weren't you? Even after we entered the castle, you kept helping us from the shadows."

"…So you figured it out, huh?"

Aesc gave a wry chuckle. "I thought I'd covered my tracks well enough. Even Frieren would've had a hard time noticing. How'd I get found out?"

"Hero's intuition."

"…That's not fair."

Himmel leaned against the railing, the stars overhead reflecting in his sky-blue eyes like scattered starlight.

Heiter had drunk too much during the celebration and passed out. Eisen was busy hauling the drunkard away. Frieren had gone to bed early.

So it was just Aesc and Himmel left, gazing up at the starlit sky together.

Though their eyes were fixed on the heavens, it was the memories of their past that rippled quietly in the lake of their hearts.

Silence hung between them, rich and mellow like aged wine, deepening with time and impossible to resist.

"It's hard, saying goodbye."

"Never thought about asking us to stay?"

Still looking up at the stars, Aesc let the evening breeze tug at her cloak. "You know what I mean."

"…Ah, so you noticed after all?"

"Honestly, aside from Frieren herself, I doubt there's anyone who didn't notice. You didn't exactly try to hide it."

"Mmm… I was just a little shy, that's all."

"Blushing's fine. It's dark anyway—no one would see even if you did."

Silence again. Above, the stars gleamed; below, the lanterns flickered. Peaceful. Serene.

"You two really are nothing alike… even though you're both elves."

There was a powerful emotion in Himmel's voice, like something he'd bottled up for ten years finally finding its way out. "If Frieren were as sharp as you, hiding it would've been a thousand times harder."

"Why hide it at all?"

Aesc asked, genuinely puzzled. "Wouldn't it be better to just say it?"

"If she'd ever figured it out, I probably would've made completely different choices. But… since she didn't, I thought I might as well let things stay as they are."

His gentleness, in that moment, was overwhelming—almost spilling out of his smile.

It was hard to imagine what kind of life one would have to live to smile with that kind of kindness.

"Compared to an elf's lifespan, we're just fleeting fireworks in her endless years."

Another heavy silence.

Then—

"Of course, I'm definitely the most dazzling one."

With theatrical flair, Himmel swept his hair back.

"…"

Aesc was momentarily speechless.

It was a conversation only they—Aesc and Himmel—had shared.

But now, with Himmel gone, Aesc might be the only one left who remembered it.

Suddenly, Aesc was snapped out of her thoughts by someone calling her name.

"Could it be… Lady Aesc? And Lady Frieren?"

Hearing the voice, both Aesc and Frieren paused in surprise, instinctively turning around.

They were still quite well-known as members of Himmel the Hero's party—if this world had a Throne of Heroes, their renown and feats would easily earn them a place.

But it had been eighty years. Few could recognize them on sight anymore. Even devoted fans of Himmel or his party might only know "the white-haired elf mage" and "the blonde-haired elf mage" without ever identifying Aesc or Frieren by name.

So if someone called them by name outright—it usually meant they'd met before.

"Oh ho! It really is Lady Aesc and Lady Frieren! I thought I was just having another one of those old-man hallucinations."

The speaker was a hunched old man, his snow-white hair a testament to the years behind him.

But the moment he recognized them, his voice brimmed with unmistakable excitement.

"And you are…?"

Frieren tilted her head, not recognizing the man.

"Oh dear, have I really aged so much you can't tell who I am? That's a little heartbreaking."

Propping himself up with a cane, the old man stood with a bit more vitality than before.

Aesc eyed him from head to toe, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Wait… you're that kid who used to pester me for stories about Himmel, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, that's me! Lady Aesc, you still remember that?"

"You were the most memorable person I met in Gris, after all."

With that reminder from Aesc, a long-dormant memory stirred in Frieren's mind.

"So it's you…"

That had been during the journey with Himmel.

Maybe it was Himmel's heroic figure defeating monsters, or maybe he'd already heard tales of the Hero—either way, a little boy had come to admire him.

He said he wanted to be like Himmel someday—someone amazing.

Aesc had gotten along well with that boy, often telling him stories she'd written down of their adventures.

"So you're still alive, huh?"

"Frieren, do you realize how rude that sounded?"

Aesc knew Frieren meant no harm—she was simply expressing her surprise. But still… who walks up to an old man and goes, "So you're still alive, huh"? It sounded like she'd been hoping he wasn't.

The old man just chuckled, unbothered.

"I worshipped Lord Himmel when I was young. Trained every day, stayed strong. Thanks to him, I feel like I've still got some years left in me."

"But actually, regular training doesn't always mean you'll live longer."

As if suddenly remembering something, Aesc's expression turned oddly thoughtful. "Heiter outlived Himmel by over twenty years. I guess it was his cheerful attitude that kept him going."

"Lord Heiter? Ah yes, he always seemed to be smiling whenever I saw him."

The old man smiled wistfully. "I doubt I could ever be as optimistic as him. That's asking too much."

So many old friends had quietly slipped away over the years. Just seeing someone familiar, still alive, could lift the heart a little.

The old man's name was Chilue. Thanks to his help, the group didn't have to trouble themselves finding a place to stay.

"I've always wondered about something, actually."

While tidying up the room, Aesc suddenly brought it up.

"Heiter may be cheerful and always smiling, but… he had quite a few bad habits, didn't he?"

Frieren knew exactly where Aesc was going with this.

"He liked drinking, loved meat, and hated anything green on his plate…"

"That's true. Heiter-sama's picky eating always gave me headaches."

Even Fern couldn't help but chime in with a complaint.

But didn't Heiter start giving up alcohol after he took Fern in?"

"That's right. Around the time of Himmel's funeral, he said the years of heavy drinking had done a number on his body."

"And yet he still lived over twenty more years… The real kicker is that after Himmel got old, he went from a radiant, handsome young man to a bald little grandpa. But Heiter? Aside from some extra wrinkles and white hair, he didn't change much at all. I honestly started suspecting the goddess was showing him special favor."

"If Himmel heard you talking about him like that, he'd probably get so mad he'd come after you swinging."

"Highly likely. He always cared way too much about his looks. I'd often catch him brushing his hair in front of a mirror."

"Especially before a statue was commissioned. He'd spend so much time grooming his appearance."

Conversations like this had become a regular part of their travels over the past two years.

Unlike the official stories circulated by the various nations—where the Himmel the Hero and his companions seemed flawless, so noble and idealized they barely felt real—Aesc and Frieren rarely praised the party's virtues outright. More often than not, they were grumbling, teasing, or recounting embarrassing memories, fixating on Himmel and the others' flaws and silly moments.

Through these conversations, Himmel and his companions took on new shape in Stark and Fern's minds—becoming fuller, more human. Less like the distant "heroes of legend," and more like real people who once lived.

The biographies that glorified the Hero's party never mentioned how vain Himmel was, how much Heiter loved to drink despite being a priest, how Eisen was nearly executed after mouthing off to a noble, how many times Frieren was eaten by mimic chests, or how Aesc once nearly blew up the entire party in a panic over bugs.

None of these stories were allowed to spread. They would tarnish the heroic image nations had worked so hard to craft—and yet, every one of them was true.

Even the image of "Himmel the Hero" himself was gradually being rewritten… There were towns they passed through where they noticed his statues had been altered, reshaped into someone completely unfamiliar.

Simply because people believed this version better fit their ideal image of "Himmel the Hero who vanquished the Demon King."

It wasn't a rare occurrence. For example, Frieren's master, Flamme—undeniably a woman—had long ago had her statue altered into the form of a burly middle-aged man.

History is deceptive. Time is best at forgetting.

More than seeking the so-called "truth," most people preferred to reshape the past into something pleasing, bending it to suit their ideals.

That wasn't to say this was wrong. At least, neither Aesc nor Himmel thought so. It was an inevitable outcome—something that came with the passage of time and the development of civilization, even if it did come at the cost of disrespecting those who came before.

There was no need to forcefully correct such distortions. Better to let them run their course.

As long as something exists, it has meaning—whether it's a fictional legend or real history. There's no need to destroy one for the sake of preserving the other.

Let the legends that are easier to accept spread far and wide. Let the real history not be completely lost to the world. That was the result Himmel believed to be most perfect.

At the very least, with Frieren and Aesc still around, he didn't have to worry about the truth being forgotten entirely.

And what more could he ask for?

Besides, Aesc would continue to record their past in the form of stories, so that more people could see it. Even if they didn't believe it as truth—that didn't really matter.