The Ultimate Skill System: Absorb, Upgrade, Create, Transfer-Chapter 37 - : The Hero of Tomorrow

A few days had passed since the village—or what could now barely be called a village, given its rapid growth—had begun preparing for the inevitable.

Thanks to Pio's exceptional blacksmithing skills, the production of weapons and armor had started in earnest.

The rhythmic clanging of hammer on metal echoed through the settlement, a steady heartbeat of readiness.

The forge glowed like a miniature sun, its fiery light spilling out into the night.

Pio, his face smudged with soot and his arms glistening with sweat, worked tirelessly, shaping raw iron into blades and plating.

The villagers, though anxious, moved with purpose. Men and women alike carried supplies, sharpened tools, and reinforced the wooden palisades that surrounded their homes.

Children, too young to fully understand the danger, darted between the adults.

When night fell, Keiran found himself in the forest clearing just beyond the village. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the trees.

The clearing was wide, surrounded by towering pines whose branches swayed gently in the cool night breeze. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, mingling with the distant aroma of woodsmoke from the village.

Behind him, the warm light of torches flickered, scattered around the village like distant stars.

Keiran sat on a fallen log, his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. The log was rough beneath him, its bark weathered and cracked from years of exposure to the elements.

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The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant animal calls, but he was listening for something else. Something out of place.

He had sensed someone approaching long before they revealed themselves.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. It was Greon, his movements silent and deliberate. He stepped into the moonlight and knelt before Keiran, his head bowed in respect.

His dark cloak blended seamlessly with the night, its fabric rippling like liquid shadow as he moved. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of loyalty and curiosity, reflecting the faint light of the moon.

"Greon," Keiran acknowledged, his voice calm and steady.

Greon rose to his feet, his expression serious. "The demons are still gathering their forces," he reported. "They will enter the forest soon."

Keiran nodded, his gaze shifting to the starry sky above. The stars were countless, scattered across the heavens like shards of light.

They seemed so distant, so untouchable.

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the soft sounds of the forest. It was a comfortable silence, one born of mutual understanding.

After a moment, Greon broke the silence. "What does it actually mean to be a hero?" he asked, his tone thoughtful, almost hesitant.

Keiran didn't answer immediately. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes fixed on the heavens. Greon had always been curious about the concept of heroism, but tonight, his question carried a weight that hadn't been there before.

"If you are truly a hero," Greon continued, "then you are only the second in the entire history of Eteria."

At this, Keiran's eyes flickered with a hint of interest, though his face remained impassive. Greon took this as a sign to continue.

"Heroes are myths," Greon said, his voice tinged with a mix of reverence and skepticism. "That phrase is often used as a common mockery of those who believe in their existence. I've heard it countless times, to the point where I've started to doubt whether heroes ever truly existed."

Keiran's response was simple. "I see."

Encouraged, Greon began to recount a story, one that had been passed down through generations. "Legend says that thousands of years ago, a hero was chosen from among the greatest warriors of Eteria. He was known as the Hero of Tomorrow. This hero drove back the forces of darkness—the uprising of the fallen angels, who are now called demons, and the shadow fairies. Though the demons and shadow fairies were not allies, they were not enemies either. The fallen angels were led by the Demon King, while the shadow fairies followed the Malevolent Witch. The hero triumphed and brought peace to the land. But the story after his victory... it ended in tragedy."

Keiran listened quietly, his expression unchanged. When Greon finished, he simply nodded and said again, "I see."

Greon hesitated, then pressed further. "Now, no one even remembers his name. No one can prove he ever existed. He's become nothing more than a bedtime story."

Keiran stood, his movements smooth and deliberate. He looked down at Greon, his eyes calm but piercing. "It doesn't matter if a hero's name is remembered after thousands of years," he said, his voice soft but firm.

Greon's eyes widened in surprise. "Then all of what he did will be for nothing. He'll just be a myth."

Keiran turned and began to walk away, his figure blending into the shadows of the forest. Over his shoulder, he said, "I hope the bedtime story about me will be loved by children."

Greon was left standing in the clearing, his mind racing. Keiran's words were cryptic, as they often were, but this time, they carried a weight that Greon couldn't quite grasp.

He tried to decipher their meaning, but the more he thought, the more elusive the answer became. Keiran was a man of few words, and Greon knew better than to expect an explanation. Still, the thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

As the night deepened, Greon realized that he might never truly understand what Keiran had meant.

And perhaps, he thought, that was the point. Heroes were not meant to be understood. They were meant to inspire, to protect, and to endure—even if their names were forgotten.

•••••

A few days later, the demons began their march into the Forest of Fiora.

Their army was vast, a sea of black armor and glowing red eyes that cut through the darkness like embers.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, the sound of their march a low, ominous rumble that echoed through the trees.

They moved with a singular purpose: to establish an outpost and destroy everything in their path.

The forest, once a place of tranquility, now trembled under the weight of their advance.

The citizens of Fiora had prepared as best they could, but the sight of the demon army was enough to strike fear into even the bravest hearts.

But little did the demons know, Fiora had a new protector. And they were about to face his might.