The Hero Who Wasn't:Lord of Kingdoms

He made a desperate decision—one born from the womb of suffering.

"True strength… is the only escape. I must become so strong that when I say 'No,' no one dares interpret it as some ancient wisdom. I must be able to defeat a real monster with my own hands, to know my true worth."

He looked at his status window. "No more guild quests. No more relying on luck. Tomorrow… I'll leave this city and head into the wilds alone. I'll find a monster at my level, and I'll fight it. A real fight. No tricks, no misunderstandings. Just me, my sword, and a beast. Only then will I know who Arion really is."

This was the first time fear wasn't what drove him. It was resolve—a resolve to shatter the legend he'd accidentally built, to forge his true self from its ruins.

Arion's decision was final. Driven by a mix of despair and a burning need to prove something to himself, he prepared for his solo journey. He left a short note for Lyora, telling her he was going for "special training" and would return by evening—and left her a pouch of coins to buy whatever she wanted.

He didn't wear his famous cloak. Today, he wasn't "Lord Arion." He was just "Arion," a level-three adventurer going out to hunt a few weak monsters.

He headed to the eastern woods—a region known to be relatively safe. According to the guild's info, the highest-ranked monsters there were only rank C. "Perfect," Arion thought. "I'll set my trap, catch some rank-D beasts, and be home in time for dinner. What could go wrong?"

After a few hours of searching, he found a suitable spot. He carefully set his Flaming Pit Trap skill, then climbed a nearby tree to wait for his prey. He felt satisfied with himself. At last, he was taking control of his fate.

Then everything changed.

Silence fell. But it wasn't normal silence—it was heavy, suffocating, as if the entire forest was holding its breath in terror. The birds fell silent. The rustling leaves vanished. Even the wind seemed afraid to move. Arion felt a cold chill crawl up his spine—not the chill of the air, but the chill of an ancient, malevolent presence.

From the deep shadows, something emerged. It didn't walk—it slithered, like a living nightmare. Humanoid in shape, yet horribly tall and thin. Its skin was a pale, corpse-gray stretched tight over bone, its arms grotesquely long, dangling almost to the ground. But its face was the worst part. It had no eyes—only deep, empty sockets. And its mouth… its mouth was split in a wide, perpetual grin stretching from ear to ear, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.

Arion's blood froze. This… this was no rank-C monster.

Ding~

> [Target Info: The Weeping Stalker]

Type: Abnormal Beast

Level: [B]

"B?!" his mind screamed. "Impossible! In this zone?!" Arion knew then—death was right in front of him. There was no doubt.

Slowly, the creature raised its head and looked straight at Arion, hidden in the tree. The grin widened—if that was even possible. Then it made a sound. It wasn't a roar—it was a high-pitched shriek, sharp as shattering glass.

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

Arion felt as if hot needles stabbed through his eardrums. The pain was unbearable. He fell from the tree, screaming silently, blood trickling from his ears. He hit the ground hard, his head slamming into a tree trunk. He felt warm liquid trickle down his forehead.

He didn't think—he ran.

He stumbled to his feet and fled blindly, not knowing where to go. Behind him, the creature didn't run—it walked. Slowly. Enjoying the hunt. Its steps were quiet, its long arms swaying side to side in a chilling rhythm.

In his panic, Arion didn't see the sharp tree branch on the ground. He stepped on it—hard.

Craaaack!

The sharp wood pierced his foot, pinning him to the spot for a heartbeat. This time, Arion screamed for real—a raw, primal scream—then tore his foot free, leaving a deep, bleeding gash. His simple cloak shredded completely as he crashed and rolled through the underbrush.

He landed face down, gasping and sobbing. Yes, he was crying. Tears, blood, snot—his face was a mess. There was no hero now. No "Lord of Kingdoms." Just a terrified boy waiting for death.

The Weeping Stalker approached, standing over him, its long shadow engulfing him. That wide grin was pure nightmare fuel.

In utter desperation, Arion tried anything.

"Perfect Spiced Stew!" — Nothing.

"Calming Hum!" — Nothing.

"Basic Telekinesis!" — He tried to lift a pebble to throw at the beast. It barely rose off the ground.

"Flaming Trap!" — Didn't activate.

It was over. He closed his eyes, bracing for the end.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The pain never came. Instead, there was a sound—a sound like a thousand thunderstorms detonating at once. A sharp wail, like emergency sirens, tore through the air and obliterated what was left of his hearing. A shockwave blasted from somewhere behind him, uprooting small trees and hurling Arion several meters forward.

When everything stilled, Arion slowly opened his eyes. The monster… was gone. Obliterated. Reduced to scraps and gray mist splattered across the ground and trees.

In its place stood an old man, calm and still, his arm outstretched. It was Valerius.

"Hmm," Valerius said quietly, as if commenting on the weather. "Very odd to see a rank-B beast here."

Arion stared at him, so stunned he forgot his pain. In that moment, he did something he'd never done before—he used Insight Gaze on the Guildmaster.

Ding~

> [Target Info: Valerius Fontaine]

Level: 89

HP: 174,300 / 174,300

Mana: 19,600 / 19,600

Strength: 100 | Defense: 100 | Agility: 99 | Intelligence: 43

Endurance: 14,300 | Focus: 9,597

Skills:

– Golden Body (S – Max Lv. 5): Blocks the first hit taken, no matter how strong.

– Nimble Body (S – Max Lv. 5): Increases speed 2–3x in combat.

– Piercing Eyes (S – Max Lv. 5): Sees enemy attack trajectories in advance.

– Genius (S – Max Lv. 10): Boosts cunning and tactical analysis; removes all guilt when deceiving others.

Titles: Guildmaster, Retired Sword of the Kingdom, First-Class Magic Swordsman … [Sloth]

Arion's eyes froze on that last title.

> [Title: Sloth]

Awarded to one whose laziness has reached legendary levels. Hasn't changed his underwear in three years (uses cleaning magic on it while wearing it). Delegates every task to avoid doing anything himself. Personal comfort ranks above fame, power, or wealth.

In that moment, Valerius didn't even recognize Arion. His face was covered in blood and mud, his clothes in tatters, no cloak—just a battered young adventurer.

Valerius mused aloud: "Why would a rank-B monster appear in a rank-C zone? This needs investigating."

Then, a sly, mischievous grin crept onto his old face.

"Hehe," he muttered to himself. "Sorry, Lord Arion, but I'll have to delegate the investigation to you. I'm not tricking him—he'll gain more fame and glory from this. And if he doesn't want fame, well, he must be the kind of person who loves helping the city, right? Yes, I'm definitely not avoiding my work by dumping it on someone else. Yes, that's right!"

Valerius turned to leave, whistling, while Arion lay there bleeding and stunned—realizing that the strongest man in the city was also its laziest, and that he was about to become his personal errand boy.