"Good morning, Mr. Ronan," the village elder greeted, a polite smile on his face. "Did you rest well last night? I hope Frieren didn't disturb you."
Ronan shook his head, his expression calm. "Elder, please don't use honorifics. I slept very well. It's I who disturbed her." "Is there something you need?"
An early morning visit wasn't just for pleasantries; the elder's hesitant expression confirmed this. However, the elder's words didn't align with Ronan's assumptions.
"There is something, but it's not very important," he said hesitantly. "I don't know if Frieren mentioned it, but I was so excited yesterday that I completely forgot."
He lightly tapped his forehead, seemingly annoyed at his own forgetfulness. Then, he looked at Ronan seriously.
"I'm here to remind you. The Hero's Sword originally belonged near the Sword Village. Since the goddess bestowed it, the village has guarded it for generations. Now that you possess it, and according to you, you found it by accident…" he emphasized the word "accident," his unspoken concern palpable. "Then, the guardians of the Sword Village…"
Ronan paused, then nodded understandingly. He hadn't considered guardians for the Hero's Sword; he hadn't seen any. If they existed, he'd inadvertently taken their livelihood.
He frowned. "So, should I tell the guardians? Or return the sword?"
The elder was startled, waving his hands. "No! The Hero's Sword isn't something to be casually handled. What's yours is yours. Since the goddess's creation, no one has ever lifted it. You lifting it proves you're the true Hero; it's the goddess's rule."
Rules? Ronan didn't believe this rule held absolute authority. He wasn't a Hero; his ability to lift the sword was likely due to his near-infinite strength.
Then, he remembered something. What if the Hero wasn't defined by character, but by strength? If so, it all made sense. The goddess was far-sighted.
A subtle smile played on Ronan's lips. Before he could speak, the elder stepped forward.
"However," the elder continued, his tone lowering as though hesitant to say what was on his mind, "there's a matter of consequence, even for someone like you." He paused, measuring Ronan carefully. "The Sword Village, and the guardians who protect it, are not to be underestimated. They've watched over the Hero's Sword for centuries, safeguarding it from those they deem unworthy. And now... with you possessing it, I fear that they may see you as a potential threat."
Ronan's gaze hardened slightly, his mind turning over the elder's words. Guardians, protectors of an ancient relic, wouldn't take kindly to someone they didn't recognize. This was the kind of problem he wasn't particularly fond of dealing with, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. Being mistaken for someone who was supposed to save the world came with its own set of complications.
"I see," Ronan said slowly, his voice neutral. "So, they might come after me for the sword? Even if I didn't want it in the first place?"
The elder nodded gravely. "Exactly. And while the Sword is rightfully yours, according to the goddess's will, that doesn't necessarily guarantee peace. The guardians might not see it that way. They could interpret your possession of it as a challenge to their duty or a sign of something much more troubling. I'm merely warning you, not to cause fear, but so you're prepared for what might come."
Ronan frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think it would be so complicated just to pick up a sword," he muttered. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of the blade, resting on his back. The weight of it felt different now, heavier somehow with the knowledge that it had been meant for someone—something else entirely. It wasn't just an ancient relic; it was a symbol of power, a title, a responsibility he hadn't asked for.
The elder gave a small, wry smile. "Nothing ever is, when it comes to the Hero's Sword. But I suppose, given your... peculiar circumstances, it's not surprising that things would turn out this way." His eyes softened. "But let's not forget, there are people in this world who would see you as a beacon of hope. You may not have chosen this path, but others will, whether you like it or not, come to see you as the Hero."
Ronan's eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"
The elder hesitated before responding, as though weighing the impact of his next words. "That's for you to decide, Mr. Ronan. But... if you were to make your way to the Sword Village, I believe the guardians would be more inclined to understand the situation if you approach them with... humility. They respect strength, but they also respect honor and intention. You may not be a traditional Hero in their eyes, but your strength is undeniable. How you wield it, how you present yourself, could make all the difference."
Ronan rubbed his chin, considering the elder's advice. The last thing he wanted was to play some kind of role in an ancient prophecy, but he understood the weight of the situation now. If the guardians truly believed in the sword's significance, then there was no escaping it. He'd have to face them eventually.
"I'll think about it," he finally said, his voice calm. "But this Hero thing... it's still not my responsibility. If I have to go, I'll go, but I'm not doing this to save the world or whatever they expect from me."
The elder gave a small bow, acknowledging Ronan's stance. "Of course, Mr. Ronan. I do not expect you to follow the path of a hero if it is not your will. Just be cautious. The Sword Village is a powerful place, and those who guard it do not take kindly to uncertainty." He looked at Ronan once more, his eyes now filled with a mix of concern and respect. "Remember, how you act now will shape much of what comes next."
Ronan nodded silently as the elder turned to leave. As he walked away, the weight of the situation settled in. The sword had been thrust upon him, and now he had to face the consequences. It wasn't just the sword that was calling to him; it was the expectations of everyone around him, and the looming presence of the Demon Lord.
Ronan's fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword. He wasn't sure where his path would lead, but one thing was certain: he wasn't about to let anyone dictate his fate.
With a final glance at the distant horizon, he turned back to the house. He still had time to think. But eventually, he knew, he'd have to face the guardians—and decide just how much of this "hero" business he was willing to take on.
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