The magical lamp on Lena’s bedside table illuminated her boudoir, casting a warm, golden glow across the room as night fell.
She knew there was a hero in Vidona, one capable of withstanding the immense pressure from the Fiona family.
Yet…
‘The Silverbloom Sword Princess?’
That identity had died over twenty years ago. Now, she was merely the owner of a flower shop, an ordinary commoner.
Would she truly invoke a past she wished to forget, all for the sake of keeping Celia?
After a long silence, she dispelled the magic that concealed her true appearance.
Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blood-red eyes softened into a warm, golden hue. As the lamplight brushed her cheeks, it revealed not just a hint of languid tenderness, but also an undeniable air of nobility and grace.
Her white nightgown blossomed around her as she rose. Lifting a corner of the hem, she turned slowly before the full-length mirror in her room, her fair, delicate feet peeking out as the skirt billowed.
Gazing at her reflection, Lena felt a rare flicker of unfamiliarity.
Ever since fleeing the Demon King’s palace, she had lived in disguise, settling in her hometown of Vidona. She had even adopted the name Lena, hoping to shed her past and begin anew.
This face, her true face, she hadn’t seen in over a decade.
Now, seeing it again, she couldn’t help but recall the past.
The friends she had met too late, the near-death experiences, the vows made beneath the starry sky…
All of it had become a past she refused to revisit, buried with the demise of the Silverbloom Sword Princess.
After her defeat, she was no longer a hero.
Magic, dormant for so long, now coalesced in her palm. Silvery-white light, accompanied by delicate petals, drifted through the room as a graceful, intricately carved longsword emerged from a sea of blossoms.
Holy Sword Megaphas.
As she clasped it, Lena’s eyes darkened, and a profound weight settled upon her arm.
The moment she had released it before the Demon King, in a desperate bid to save her fellow heroes, all its light had vanished. It had transformed into a weapon indistinguishable from any ordinary iron sword.
In essence, she was no longer acknowledged by Holy Sword Megaphas.
Furthermore, her strength had plummeted from the peak of an eighth-tier hero over twenty years ago to a mere seventh-tier. She was no longer the strongest hero among humanity.
Yet, none of this truly mattered.
What truly mattered was the identity of the Silverbloom Sword Princess.
She was a failed hero. After surrendering to the Demon King, she lacked the courage to face her former comrades. Moreover, the five years she had spent as the Demon King’s plaything haunted her like a nightmare, a secret she desperately wished to keep from others.
So, was she truly prepared to use this identity to keep Celia by her side?
‘I’m already used to these things; it’s no big deal.’
The icy chill from the sword hilt stung Lena’s delicate palm. Celia’s words, spoken earlier, now sliced through her heart like blades, causing a subtle ache within her.
She was not just a failed hero; she was also a failed mother.
Had she not fled the palace, or had she taken her daughter with her, would Celia’s childhood have been happier?
Her guilt deepened, a heavy weight pressing upon her. She knew she owed Celia far too much.
She remembered her daughter’s adorable face, brimming with longing and excitement, when she spoke of her dream to become a hero.
Perhaps, she could make amends in this regard.
With a decision made, she reopened her communicator and sent a message to Sharlene.
[Tomorrow, someone will become their instructor.]
****
“What do you mean?”
In the Hero Guild’s office, Sharlene glanced at the message from Lena, her brows furrowing slightly.
What did ‘someone will become Celia’s instructor tomorrow’ even mean? The senior heroes in their guild actively avoided Celia; who would possibly be willing to instruct her?
Could Lena perhaps know some powerful hero?
It was well known that heroes were categorized by rank. Once a hero reached the sixth tier, the Hero Council would bestow a specific title upon them.
Such heroes were considered renowned figures within the various human empires, veritable pillars in the fight against evil.
Heroes who achieved the seventh tier were known as Sages, and almost every Sage was a revered guest of the empire.
As for the eighth tier, those were members of the Hero Council, powerhouses who transcended the human empires.
The ninth and tenth tiers, however, remained unclassified, as no human had ever reached them.
To openly challenge the Fiona family, one would need to be at least a sixth-tier hero with their own bestowed title.
How could Lena possibly know such an influential figure?
Sharlene composed and sent several more messages to Lena, but a reply was a long time coming.
With a sigh, she realized Lena was no longer checking her messages.
Setting down the magical communicator, Sharlene propped her chin on her hand, concluding that she was simply overthinking things.
She had known Lena for nearly a decade, well aware that Lena merely ran a flower shop and was an ordinary person without any magical power. The most formidable hero Lena knew was Sharlene herself.
What possible means could Lena have to find an instructor for Celia?
Shaking her head, she dismissed Lena’s last message from her mind. Just then, the office door opened.
“Working so late, Guild Master Sharlene?”
The newcomer was an elderly man dressed in a suit, wearing white gloves and gripping a waist-high cane. His face was devoid of expression.
Walking directly to Sharlene, he unceremoniously settled onto the sofa, his movements overtly arrogant, showing utter disregard for the Guild Master.
Yet, despite all this, Sharlene merely narrowed her eyes without betraying any anger.
She simply could not afford to offend the old man before her.
After all, he was the Fiona family’s butler, capable of deciding her fate as Guild Master with a single word.
“She has already signed the withdrawal forms. She should be returning with you tomorrow.”
“That’s excellent. Thank you for your trouble, Guild Master.”
Having received a satisfactory answer, a faint smile finally touched the old man’s weathered face.
Sharlene, feeling a touch of annoyance, let out a soft huff and inexplicably recalled Lena’s message once more.
“However, let it be known now: if she ever wishes to become a hero again, I have no right to refuse her.”
“The heroes under your command are intelligent individuals, Guild Master. I trust she will no longer wish to be a hero.”
Orl, leaning on his cane, rose from the sofa and replied with a knowing, almost mocking smile. Then, he turned and headed towards the office door.
Knowing Celia would depart with him tomorrow, he saw no reason to waste any more time here.
Sensing the implicit threat in his words, Sharlene adjusted her spectacles and let out a cold scoff.
Just as Orl opened the door, poised to leave, she suddenly asked, “Before you go, could you tell me why you’re so against her becoming a hero?”
“As the family heir, she cannot afford the slightest mishap.”
Orl didn’t pause his stride, simply turning and exiting the office.
Sharlene could only believe half of that explanation.
Or rather, while that reason might be part of why Orl prevented Celia from becoming a hero, it certainly wasn’t the only one.
With her keen sixth sense, she could discern that their actions were likely driven by a far more decisive underlying reason.
However, she didn’t probe further, as it ultimately had nothing to do with her.
She was merely a small Guild Master, with no desire to uncover the Fiona family’s hidden secrets or become entangled in their potential conflicts.
Unless she was tired of living.