"Ariake, you useless fool! We're expelling you from the hero's party!" Vivia's voice thundered through the clearing, laced with venomous disdain. His words sliced through the air like a sharpened blade, each syllable heavy with finality. Ariake, exhausted from a grueling battle, slumped against a gnarled tree, its rough bark pressing into his back.
"You're casting me out?" Ariake asked, his voice steady despite the bitter sting of betrayal. He lifted his gaze to his former comrades, their faces etched with cold resolve, their eyes devoid of camaraderie. "So, you fledglings believe you're ready to soar without me, do you?"
Allow me to introduce myself: I am Ariake Mimaha, eighteen years old, an adventurer in the Grandheim Kingdom—or rather, I was forced into this role. Fate, not choice, thrust me into a life of relentless peril and fleeting glory. A mysterious figure, cloaked in the guise of divinity, manipulated me into joining this so-called heroic band.
"If that's your desire, I'll depart gladly," I declared, my tone calm and unshaken, masking the turmoil within. Vivia scoffed, his ego bristling at my composure, his lips curling into a mocking sneer. "Who do you think you are, speaking so boldly?" he barked, his laughter echoing as if my exit were a jest.
Vivia Harunoa, chosen wielder of the Holy Sword Langris, was heralded as humanity's greatest hope against the Demon King. His Paladin skill rendered him the epitome of a hero—radiant, unyielding, and insufferably arrogant. Yet, beneath his shining armor, his pride cast a long, dark shadow over his valor.
"Hey, Ariake!" Vivia snapped, his anger flaring as I remained unfazed by his outburst. "Listen when I'm speaking to you!" Delia, another party member, chimed in, her voice sharp with indignation, "It's disrespectful to ignore him!" Their voices blended into a chorus of contempt, unified in their scorn.
Delia, a fierce female brawler, wielded magic to amplify her strength, her Blessed Fist an unstoppable force that could shatter stone. She sneered, "We only kept you to carry our bags, porter." Her words cut deeply, reducing my role to that of a mere servant, unworthy of their esteem.
Then there was Elga, known as the Shield of the Kingdom, renowned for his boundless stamina and unparalleled magic resistance. His Giant's Fist could crush any defense, a testament to his formidable presence. He stood silently, his towering frame a constant reminder of my perceived inadequacy.
"Why bother with him? He's worthless!" Pulala, the mage, spat with venom, her eyes glinting with disdain. Her magical prowess, rumored to surpass a legion of Demon Kings, made her humanity's trump card. Her Arch Wizard skill was a dazzling display of her unmatched power.
Vivia sneered again, his voice dripping with mockery, "Even if you begged, we wouldn't take you back!" His words faltered as I began packing my belongings, ignoring his tirade with deliberate indifference. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" he shouted, his face reddening with mounting frustration.
"Finally, the moment I've awaited," Alicia declared, her voice icy yet regal, carrying the weight of her authority. The Great Saintess, a legend who mastered the Revive skill in a world where recovery magic had nearly vanished, stood as a beacon of hope. Her beauty and fame were renowned across the kingdom, her presence almost divine.
"Even the Great Saintess despises you," Vivia added, his smirk widening with cruel satisfaction. My thoughts drifted to Alicia's past—her shy glances, her quiet admiration when we first met. How had her heart turned so cold, transformed so drastically into this unyielding scorn?
I joined this party partly for her, drawn by a flicker of connection from those earlier days. But a greater force compelled me—an old man, claiming to be a god, who guilted me into this fellowship with words that still haunt me: "If you don't join, they'll all perish." His manipulative plea, cruel and inescapable, bound me to this doomed alliance.
They mocked my skills as worthless, and I couldn't entirely disagree, for they never understood their true nature. I opened my mouth to explain, to reveal the truth of my abilities, but Alicia cut me off. "You contribute nothing," she said, her words echoing like a death knell, resonating in the hollows of my mind.
Vivia laughed, his voice booming with triumph, "She wants you gone, so leave!" I placed a hand on his shoulder, my tone cool and measured. "Vivia, your athlete's foot remedy? The bottle broke, so I stored it in a blue vial—don't mistake it for a healing potion." His face flushed crimson with embarrassment, his bravado crumbling.
"It's not true!" Vivia stammered, turning to his companions for support, his voice tinged with desperation. But as he spun back, rage blazing in his eyes, I was already gone, vanished like a shadow into the twilight. "Where did he go?" he roared, his bewilderment echoing through the empty clearing.
Now, I stand atop a windswept cliff, gazing down at a winding forest path that leads to Alty, a quaint town known for its kind-hearted folk. Freed from the burdens of the hero's party, I envision a peaceful life there, unencumbered by their disdain. The journey may take a month, but solitude feels like a long-lost friend, welcoming me with open arms.
As I prepare to descend, my thoughts linger on my former companions—can they survive without me? They possess basic skills, like reading a map, which should keep them afloat in their quest. Yet, a faint pang of concern tugs at my heart, quickly brushed aside by the promise of freedom.
The Grandheim Kingdom stretches vast and untamed before me, its landscapes a tapestry of rolling hills and shadowed forests. Alty, though small, holds the promise of a new beginning, a place where I can redefine myself beyond the label of "useless." I adjust my pack, feeling the weight of my meager belongings, and take my first step toward this new horizon.
My skills, dismissed by those I once called allies, remain a mystery even to me. The old man's words echo faintly, hinting at a purpose I have yet to uncover. Perhaps in Alty, away from the chaos of heroism, I can unravel the truth of what I carry within.
The forest path is quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. Each step feels lighter, as if shedding the expectations that once chained me. I am no hero, nor do I aspire to be; I seek only the peace of a life unjudged.
The stars begin to emerge, twinkling above the canopy, guiding me toward Alty. I wonder what awaits—a simple home, perhaps, or new faces who see me not as a burden but as Ariake, the man forging his own path. The thought brings a rare smile to my lips.
No point worrying about the hero's party now; their fate is their own to shape. As for me, traveling alone feels less like exile and more like liberation. With each stride, I embrace this solitary adventure, ready to discover what lies beyond the horizon.