Regression As Ugly Hero Chapter 4: Black Rose

In the Ice Forest, as Arvant approached Nancy's corpse, her eyes suddenly snapped open. 

"Why?" Nancy hissed, her voice dripping with hatred. 

"I'm sorry, Nancy," Arvant whispered, his voice trembling. 

"You call yourself a hero?" 

Nancy stood abruptly—her eyes blood-red, tears of crimson streaming down her cheeks, her mouth torn open, her neck half-severed, and her stomach split wide. 

"Liar! You're no hero. You let me die!" Blood spilled from her lips as she spoke. 

Arvant's gaze shifted to the ruins of the Alexandria Kingdom, where screams echoed through the air. There, standing atop the crumbling castle, was Queen Rose—before she suddenly leaped. 

"NOOO!" Arvant screamed. 

He rushed to Rose's mangled corpse, her body broken and drenched in blood. 

As he stared at her remains, her eyes shot open, and she rose to her feet, standing inches from his face. 

"Look what you've done to Alexandria! You stabbed your own father! Poisoned your mother! Kidnapped my child! And you still dare call yourself a hero?!" Rose shrieked, her words like bullets as she gripped his collar. 

Arvant's eyes dropped to the ground, his fists clenched, cold sweat dripping down his face. 

"Trash!" His jaw tightened, his forehead creased. 

Suddenly, darkness swallowed his vision, and voices of scorn surrounded him. 

"Worthless hero!" 

"You don't deserve to be a hero!" 

"Because of you, I died!" 

"How could you betray me?" 

"Do you know what they call you?" 

"Everyone hates you." 

"They call you the weakest hero in history!" 

Arvant collapsed to his knees, clawing at his hair, his breath ragged, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

"I'm sorry... I truly don't deserve this. I had no choice..." His voice shook. 

A blinding white light pierced through the darkness—and Arvant jolted awake in his inn room, gasping for air. 

His chest heaved as he sat up abruptly, bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. His left hand clutched his chest, while his right gripped his head. 

Realizing it had all been a nightmare, Arvant stared at his bandaged left hand, flexing his fingers slowly. 

Suddenly, the door burst open—Elric stood there, shocked to see his nephew awake. 

"A-Arvant?!" 

"U-Uncle..." 

Elric hurried to the bedside, sitting on a nearby chair. 

"Arvant, how are you feeling?" His voice was soft, his eyes filled with relief. 

The usually confident and composed Elric now looked weary. 

"Why am I here?" 

"You don't remember? You collapsed near Nancy's body. I brought both of you back to the inn," Elric explained. 

"So... was Nancy buried? And how long was I unconscious?" 

"Four days. During that time, Nancy was laid to rest, and an investigation was conducted regarding the Ice Wolf—a level 3 beast that shouldn't have been in that area." 

"Then why was it there?" 

"Remember the level 4 Ice Wolf I was chasing?" 

"Yes... What about it?" 

"It was hunting the level 3 wolf you fought. The beast fled beyond the Ice Forest's borders—so it was all just an unfortunate accident." Elric placed a hand on Arvant's shoulder. 

Arvant's head dropped, his hands trembling. 

"If... if only I hadn't insisted on splitting up... if I had just let nature take its course... none of this would've happened..." His voice cracked. 

"Arvant..." Elric smiled faintly. 

Arvant looked up—Elric's gaze was warm, like the morning sun. 

"This isn't your fault." 

"B-But—" 

Before he could finish, Elric pulled him into a firm embrace. 

"This isn't your fault," he repeated. 

Arvant's vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling over. 

"It's not your fault, so don't blame yourself." Elric patted his back gently. 

Arvant wept freely—his first tears since his ninth life. 

Once he had calmed, Elric released him, still smiling as he gave Arvant's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

"You did your best, Arvant." He gave a thumbs-up. 

"Thank you, Uncle... for always being there for me." 

"Don't mention it, my nephew. Or should I call you... my little hero?" 

Arvant's mind flashed back to his ninth life—when he had abandoned an exhausted Elric, surrounded by thousands of demons and the demon general Lust on the battlefield. 

"Just call me 'little hero.'" Arvant forced a smile, as if pushing away his grief. 

"Good to see you smiling again. When I brought you here, you were on death's door—your limbs cold as ice. Yet somehow, you still clung to your sword with an iron grip." Elric grabbed an apple from the bedside table. 

Arvant glanced out the window, spotting a royal carriage adorned with the lion crest of Alexandria parked outside. 

"Did the royal family visit while I was unconscious?" 

"Yes. They came to check on you and sent royal healers to treat your wounds." Elric peeled the apple with a knife. 

"Then why wasn't I taken to the palace or our estate?" 

"Your condition was too severe—the healers feared moving you. You only survived because your hero's blood slowly regenerated you." He tossed the apple to Arvant. 

As Arvant took a bite, the door creaked open—revealing a beautiful black-haired nurse in white robes. 

"Oh, you're awake? Good. Are you still feeling cold?" 

"No, not at all." Arvant chewed lazily. 

"Any pain in your abdomen?" She pulled out a notepad. 

"None. I feel fine." 

"Good. A normal person would take weeks to recover, but your hero's regeneration sped up the process." She scribbled down her notes. 

Her eyes then landed on the half-eaten apple in Arvant's hand—and the knife Elric had used to peel it. 

"Sir Elric?" 

"Yes, Nurse?" 

"Did you use that knife?" 

"Yes. Why?" 

"SIR ELRIC!" she shrieked, eyes wide. "That's my surgical scalpel!" 

Elric shrugged. "Sorry. Thought it was a fruit knife." 

Arvant stared at the half-eaten apple in his hand—the nurse's apple. 

She sighed deeply. "Thank the gods poison doesn't work on heroes." 

Elric smirked. "You should see your face, Arvant. Just like when you were a kid and ate those poisoned mushrooms." 

They laughed—short, bitter, but real. 

--- 

"Well, since your condition has improved, you may return to the Heisenberg estate this evening. I'll take my leave now to report your recovery." The nurse bowed before exiting. 

Elric cleared his throat. "While you were unconscious, your sister came personally. She ordered you to return home as soon as you woke." 

Arvant slowly stood, testing his legs—fully healed despite the deep wounds from days prior. He reached for his white Heisenberg cloak. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need to apologize to Old Man Ted." 

"Look at yourself—your entire torso is bandaged!" 

"You said I was worthy of being called a hero. So let me act like one." 

Elric fell silent, offering only a weary smile. 

Arvant opened the door and stepped out, his body still aching. As he descended the stairs, memories of Nancy's corpse flooded back—the freezing air, the icy dew. 

He spotted Ted sitting by the fireplace, clutching Nancy's white gloves. The old man's head hung low, grief weighing on his shoulders. 

Arvant hesitated before finally speaking. 

"O-Old Man Ted?" 

Ted turned, his warm smile contrasting the sorrow in his eyes. 

"Ah, Young Master Arvant. You're awake—how are you feeling?" 

Arvant's voice wavered. "I... I'm sorry I couldn't save Nancy in time..." 

Ted stood and placed a hand on his back. 

"Stand tall, son. This wasn't your fault." 

Arvant wiped his eyes. "Where is she buried? I want to visit." 

"I'll take you." 

As they walked through the village, an eerie silence followed them—not peaceful, but suffocating, like a graveyard. 

An old woman spat at the ground when she saw Arvant. 

"Hero?" she sneered. "You should've died in that forest too." 

A child hurled a rock from a window. 

THUD.

It struck Arvant's temple. Blood trickled, but he kept walking—like a hero numb to pain. 

Ted glanced at him. "You alright?" 

"I'm fine." 

They reached the cemetery. Among the many graves, Nancy's stood simple, a withered sunflower atop her tombstone. 

"She always said... this flower was like a little sun," Ted murmured. "Never failed to rise." 

Arvant knelt, gripping the frozen earth. 

"I'm no sun," he whispered. "But I'll burn away the darkness that took you." 

He drew the dagger from his belt—the same one that had failed to save her—and plunged it into the grave. 

"This is my oath. Or my tomb." 

The wind howled, carrying snowflakes that glittered like shattered blades.