She raised a hand above his head. The warmth of divine energy seeped into his skin.
The temple was silent except for her voice, clear and steady, each word pressing into him like the weight of destiny itself.
Kaito didn’t doubt. He couldn’t. He had been given everything—a divine purpose, the strength to fulfill it, and the unwavering faith of an entire kingdom.
The light surged, wrapping around him like an unshakable armor. The weight of expectation settled on his shoulders, but he welcomed it.
Kaito rose to his feet.
There was no hesitation. No doubt. Only certainty.
The Oracle led him through the grand corridors of the palace, past towering statues of past Chosen Heroes. Each one was immortalized in stone, their names engraved beneath their feet.
He had read about them before, but standing here, surrounded by them, he felt the weight of their legacies more than ever.
- Kalen Everhart, the Saint of Blades.
- Lyra of the Silver Flame.
- Veylan the Unbroken.
Legends, each of them. Their victories were recorded in scripture, proof of their greatness.
the Oracle said, her voice almost reverent.
Kaito stopped before a mural depicting one of the greatest battles in history—an army of heroes, clad in golden armor, standing triumphant over the Demon King’s fallen forces. The moment of ultimate victory, captured forever.
He stared at it, feeling something stir inside him.
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One day, his story would be painted here too.
the Oracle murmured.
He nodded. There was no room for failure. A hero either fulfilled their duty… or they were never a hero to begin with.
The city streets buzzed with energy as Kaito walked through the marketplace, surrounded by the royal guards. People bowed as he passed, their eyes full of admiration.
A young boy, no older than ten, ran up to him, clutching a wooden sword.
"Sir Hero! When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"
Kaito smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair.
"Then grow strong, and always protect those who cannot protect themselves."
The boy beamed. His mother bowed deeply.
"May the gods bless you, Chosen One."
Everywhere he turned, there were expressions of gratitude, belief, faith.
Then, a wounded soldier limped forward, kneeling before him.
"We fight in your name, Chosen One. We will die if we must—for the hero’s victory is all that matters."
For a moment, Kaito didn’t know what to say.
But then he nodded, gripping the man’s shoulder firmly.
"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."
The soldier grinned through bloodied lips.
"That is all I need to hear."
Their faith in him was absolute.
And he would not fail them.
At a noble’s banquet that evening, Kaito sat among the kingdom’s elite, listening to discussions of war strategy. Maps were spread across the table, detailing upcoming campaigns.
"With the Chosen Hero leading the charge, our victory is certain!" one noble declared.
Murmurs of agreement. Then someone laughed.
"Imagine if that thing had been allowed to stay! A failure at the hero’s side? It would have been a disgrace!"
Kaito blinked.
It took him a second to realize who they were talking about.
Haruto.
The False Hero.
He frowned slightly, his fingers tightening around his cup.
Haruto… had been there. He remembered that much.
Something about that didn’t sit right.
But then—why should it?
The Oracle’s words came back to him, steady and unwavering.
"The world does not need mistakes. It needs a savior."
He let out a quiet breath, forcing himself to relax.
Yes. That was the truth.
It didn’t matter.
Haruto didn’t matter.
"Anyway, no point talking about mistakes," another noble said, waving dismissively.
The conversation moved on without hesitation.
Kaito nodded along.
And whatever thought had crossed his mind… was gone.
That night, Kaito returned to the temple, meeting the Oracle once more beneath the towering glow of the sacred relics.
She watched him carefully, as if assessing his readiness.
"" she said.
"I have."
Kaito knelt before her, eyes full of conviction.
"I will not fail."
A satisfied smile touched her lips.
The golden glow of the temple surrounded him, warm and endless.
And far away, in the cold darkness of the wilderness, Haruto pulled his tattered cloak tighter around himself, staring at the distant village ahead.
One man stood at the height of power.
The other, at the edge of survival.
But only one would decide the world’s future.