Eugene was certain that even if he considered his present life, his past life, and the life before that, the experience he endured in Shimuin was the pinnacle of humiliation.

The parade on the Platinum Lion had been dreadful enough… but now, he found himself striking a pose in front of countless onlookers who surrounded the square.

“I’m asking because I’m truly curious, and I don’t know any better, but do we really need to do this here?” Eugene inquired, his voice barely more than a whisper.

It was clear that his patience was strained to its limit. The dwarf responsible for the statue’s creation had a notably crafty appearance. He raised an eyebrow in response to Eugene’s question, “Should we not construct the most fitting statue for the scenery?”

“Shouldn’t a master sculptor be able to capture a pose in the confines of a workshop and still optimize it for this kind of backdrop?” retorted Eugene.

“Well, if our Hero here were a professional model, one who could reveal vitality with the movement of his every fingertip and naturally fit into any landscape simply by standing, then perhaps that might be possible, but…,” the dwarf trailed off here.

He adjusted his bread-shaped hat with a touch of disdain, then continued, “A statue’s essence is produced not just by its sculptor but also its model. Regrettably, for all your striking appearance, your posing leaves much to be desired, Hero.”

Eugene fell silent at this blatant declaration.

“Do not feel awkward, nor be shy. There are statues meant to convey such feelings, but the one we’re erecting here should depict the Hero, the person who vanquished the Demon King, right? It should radiate your valor, your nobility, yet you seem overly embarrassed right now,” complained the dwarf.

“If you want those emotions from me, remove the spectators first,” Eugene said through clenched teeth.

“Each of those individuals admires and reveres you. They came here out of respect. And, Hero, forgive me for asking this question, but… was it not you who requested this statue?”

Instead of answering, Eugene merely cleared his throat awkwardly. The dwarf tilted his head with confusion before continuing, “It’s not like people forced it. We’re erecting it on your request… Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Let’s get it over with quickly,” Eugene responded. He felt that if the conversation were to drag on any longer, he might just lash out and beat up the irritating dwarf right in front of the vast crowd.

‘Let’s calm down…,’ Eugene told himself. He took a deep breath.

Erecting a statue and a triumphal arch in Shimuin held profound meaning. They marked the site where the Hero first defeated a Demon King. Eugene’s feats were already legendary and almost mythical in nature.

The statue and arch would become blatant symbols. It wouldn’t only be presented to this land’s citizens but also to people from various nations who would come to see these monuments. Newspapers and countless books would feature the two structures and idolize the Hero.

At that point, feelings of embarrassment seemed less of a concern than the sheer surreal nature of it all. Those unaware might wonder why he’d even bother with such grandiosity. They might even assume the young Hero had been blinded by pride and ambition.

But for Eugene, building the statue and the arch was of paramount importance.

The Stars had vanished from the White Flame Formula. He couldn’t simply hope to increase their number as he did in the past. Although there remained untested potential in the Moonlight Sword, his confidence in being successful at his future undertaking was wavering.

However, he held unwavering belief when it came to his Divine Sword and divine power. The more he was revered as the Hero, the stronger his divine power would become, and so too would his Divine Sword.

Just as the Demon Kings drew strength from terror and awe, gods grew stronger with worship and faith. If Noir had transformed the entirety of Giabella City into a factory for life-force, Eugene needed to harness faith and reverence from the people of the continent.

His cheeks burned less with shame when he thought of the situation that way. As per the words of the dwarf, he needed to look proud, brave, and pure to model for the statue.

With renewed determination, Eugene took on a pose he deemed the proudest, bravest, and most pure.

A statue, indeed, just like a statue.

Sienna boasted of possessing countless such statues. Without exaggeration, there were dozens of Sienna’s statues in Aroth alone. Well, that was if one counted the statues scattered throughout Aroth, along with the ones in the City of Pentagon with its soaring towers. 𝑖𝘦.𝑐𝘰𝘮

And was that all?

The ‘Wise Sienna’ was the oracle and beacon for wizards of this age. As such, her statues were commonplace even outside Aroth. To exaggerate slightly, almost every location related to magic housed a statue of Sienna.

It wasn’t much different for Anise.

The Faithful Anise was considered among the holiest saints of Yuras, alongside the Great Vermouth. In fact, she was even more adored and beloved than Vermouth by the people in Yuras. Thus, there were dozens of Anise’s statues in Yuras, as well as many more when counting those erected in countries that followed the Church of Light.

But what about the statues of the Stupid Hamel? Sure, they existed. However, this much was clear: While there were statues of the Hero and his companions, which depicted all five of them, there was only a single statue of Hamel that stood independently.

‘At my tomb,’ Eugene thought angrily. The very thought made his insides boil.

Hamel’s homeland was the Kingdom of Turas. Yet, most in Turas wouldn’t even know Hamel hailed from their land. In those times, a proper census of the territories wasn’t conducted, and Hamel’s hometown had been located at the farthest edge of the kingdom. In fact, it was now a desert.

Most other statues depicted Vermouth and his companions. The best of them was the one erected by Molon in the capital of his kingdom, which featured only Molon and Hamel.

‘The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off,’ Eugene thought with gritted teeth.

He felt a slight surge of anger, but at the same time, he felt that this moment was special. Because at this moment, the statue of Eugene Lionheart, who was once Agaroth and Hamel, would be erected of his own accord.

His resolve strengthened. Eugene flung his cloak wide and drew the Holy Sword.

Sienna’s mouth gaped open. Anise was equally shocked as she watched Eugene through Kristina’s eyes. It wasn’t just the act of drawing the sword that shocked them. Rather, it was that Eugene raised the gleaming blade towards the heavens. Even without the wind, his cloak billowed wildly.

And it did not just billow randomly, but it flared in a manner that perfectly complemented the grandeur of Eugene’s stance. The cloak’s movement did nothing to blemish his stance. Rather, it couldn’t be more perfect.

The lighting seemed… strange as well. The glow that outlined Eugene mixed perfectly with the surroundings. It wasn’t a blinding light that would obscure his form, but rather the kind that highlighted and glorified him.

“Crazy bastard,” Sienna murmured. She was lost for words.

From within the cloak, Mer diligently manipulated the cloak’s movements to give it such an appearance, and Raimira infused the space with light to cast a filter over Eugene. Eugene stood with a solemn, righteous expression, aided by the duo hidden within his cloak.

“Ah, how can he look so pure and majestic…!?” Kristina expressed, dazed.

Anise was astounded as well, but Kristina was utterly mesmerized. She clasped her hands and gazed up at Eugene with awe. She wasn’t the only one reacting this way. While Sienna and Anise’s reaction was one of shock and incredulity because of how familiar they were with Eugene, the crowd outside the square cheered and roared in pure adoration for Eugene.

“…..”

It was impossible to construct a statue in just a few hours, even for dwarves. Yes, it might have been possible if they really wanted to, but the statue in question was of the Hero. It was supposed to be a statue destined to endure through the annals of long and vast history. Therefore, it had to be more magnificent and beautiful than any statue that had ever existed in history. In truth, if left to the dwarves’ stubbornness, it would take at least ten more years to complete.

Of course, Eugene had no intention of granting them such an extensive duration.

“One month. Not a day more,” he declared.

“Hero! A month is too short!” complained the dwarf artisan.

“If it’s not done, it’s not done. If it’s even slightly delayed, even if it’s a day beyond a month, I will personally come to this nation and destroy the statue you’ve made,” threatened Eugene.

“What madness is this!?” retorted the dwarf.

“Madness? I’m the client, and this is what I’m asking, so why are you complaining so much? Anyways, know this: if it isn’t done in a month, your kin won’t be trusted with the task,” continued Eugene.

“Who else in this world, other than us dwarves, could immortalize the image of the Hero?” asked the dwarf.

“There might be other races capable of it. I think human sculptors are quite skilled, too. Perhaps there are sculptors among the elves,” responded Eugene.

“Do you think those long ears even understand art? All they know how to do is nibble on leaves in the forest like bugs and make green poop. The best they can do is carve on bark!” the dwarf shouted in frustration.

Sienna’s eyes flared with anger upon hearing his words. She secretly held a prejudice against the dwarves. She looked down on them and considered them a stinky race. In addition, she got angered when she felt slighted — very much a human trait of hers.

“Restrain yourself,” warned Anise, making sure that Sienna would not fly into a rage. Eugene also was slightly worried, wondering if Sienna might lose control. However, he could sigh in relief when he saw Anise helping her calm down.

“Well… elves are a beautiful race, so they might have some sense of art, and given their long lifespans…,” muttered Eugene.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Do you not know the innate flaws of the elves!? Despite their longevity, despite living centuries, they spend most of it idly in forests! If they used lifespans wisely, the greatest warriors, wizards, sages, and craftsmen of this continent would all be elves,” roared the dwarf.

“Let, let, let me at that dwarf!” Sienna cried out, unable to word the sentence coherently due to her rage.

Everything the dwarf said made sense to Eugene, but Sienna didn’t take it that way.

Eugene barely managed to soothe Sienna’s rage, stopping her from breaking free of Anise’s attempts to calm her and beating the dwarf with her staff. He exhaled deeply and fixed his gaze on the dwarf.

“Anyways…,” Eugene said, “My stance remains unchanged. One month. No more. If you wish to mark in your racial history that you crafted the first statue of the Hero, finish it within the month.”

“Hmm….” The dwarf looked glum.

“Why are you moping? You said you already found the inspiration you needed, didn’t you?” questioned Eugene.

The pose Eugene had demonstrated was firmly etched in the dwarf’s mind. After making observations from multiple angles and adjusting positions several times, the dwarf had chosen the perfect spot in the square as well.

Now, all that remained was to craft the statue just as he remembered and as recorded with the aid of magic.

Eugene sent the dwarf back after refusing further negotiations. He returned to the mansion where Ciel, Dezra, and Carmen had been staying. The trio had already left to return to the main family early in the morning.

~

—Tell me that you trust me.

~

The earnestness in Ciel’s eyes was still vivid in memory. Earlier in the morning, as Eugene shared farewells with the trio, Ciel had surprisingly said little before parting with Eugene.

~

—Wait for me.

~

A radiant smile. A voice firm in its resolve.

…Judging by the resolve he had seen in her, she was likely engrossed in training beneath the lake by now.

“We have nothing else to do in Shimuin, right?” Eugene asked.

“Right,” one of the ladies confirmed.

There was nothing to take from the mansion.

Everything had already been sent back home, including the two Exids given by King Oseris, ten dwarf artisans led by Gondor, and the corpse of Raizakia Eugene had stored in the cloak.

Although setting up a new workshop would take some time, by midsummer at the latest, the dwarves would disassemble Raizakia’s body and craft armaments for the Lionheart clansmen.

“We can set out tomorrow,” Eugene replied while stretching out on the sofa.

Melkith had been tasked with scouring the Nahama Desert. It was deemed that rather than Eugene, the Hero, making a move from the beginning, Melkith would receive a better reception in Nahama as a neutral party.

In the meantime, Eugene and his comrades decided to head to Ruhr.

“Shouldn’t we get that fool Molon a gift or something?” Sienna’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke.

Though Eugene and Anise had met Molon just last year, for Sienna, this reunion was nearly two hundred years in the making.

“Didn’t you say that the idiot’s already half crazy? What’s good for mental health? How about a canvas and a set of paints? Maybe he can paint when he feels unstable,” joked Sienna.

“You seem to misunderstand,” retorted Eugene. “Molon isn’t trapped and helpless like you. He can get what he needs on his own.”

“How about magical shackles, then? Not ordinary ones, but magical ones that I craft personally,” suggested Sienna.

“Why on earth would you suggest that?” questioned Eugene.

“As a gift for Molon. I’ll make him shackles he can wear when he feels like he’s losing it,” responded Sienna.

“Do you think you’re the Demon King of Incarceration or something?” Eugene asked, flabbergasted.

Sienna looked at him, taken aback. “Don’t you think calling me a Demon King is a bit too much?”

“That was indeed an inappropriate analogy, Sir Eugene. Please apologize,” Kristina intervened.

“Yes… I’m sorry,” Eugene conceded. He was forced to, with both of them acting so humorless.

Sienna contemplated for a moment before resuming, “I think the canvas and paints might be a good idea. Like you said, Eugene, even if Molon can get what he needs, I doubt he’d buy a canvas and paints.”

“He might have a talent for art, you know,” Anise chuckled while recalling the past and sipping on her drink. “Don’t you remember? Whenever we camped, Molon used to carve sculptures out of rocks and logs when there was nothing else to do.”

Anise laughed heartily as she shared in this memory.

Eugene’s memory, too, had resurfaced. Indeed, just as Anise had said, Molon’s sculptures had been reasonably nice.

“Molon is better than the elves,” commented Eugene.

“You… you piece of… what did you just say?! There are artists among elves as well! Even my own brother paints beautifully. And there were some elves who sculpted!” retorted Sienna.

“Then why are all the renowned craftsmen of the world dwarves?” questioned Eugene.

“That’s because elves aren’t as greedy as dwarves! To elves, everything in the world belongs to nature. It’s not a thing to trade with money! Elves don’t obsess over leaving behind art; once made, it’s returned to nature!” Sienna argued with trembling shoulders.

Of course, Eugene had no interest in the truth of Sienna’s claim. He gave a casual response and glanced over at Mer and Raimira, who were engrossed in a game on one side of the room.

Both looked extremely serious. However, whenever the two of them played any game, it was rare for one to decisively win. If it seemed Mer would win, Raimira would turn the tide, and vice versa.

“Are you planning to test the Moonlight Sword where Molon is?” asked Anise.

“Well, if the Moonlight Sword goes berserk again, calming you down might be more a job for Molon than us,” commented Sienna.

Molon was as strong and durable as he was simple. The Moonlight Sword might repel mana, magic, and even divine power, but Molon’s strength would likely prevail against it.

“But… wasn’t the reason Molon lost his mind related to the power of destruction? Wouldn’t the Moonlight Sword adversely affect him?” Sienna questioned after some thought.

“Then I’ll just smack some sense back into him,” responded Eugene.

“What if both you and Molon go berserk?” asked Sienna.

“Then you guys can beat some sense into us,” Eugene responded simply.

“What in the world are you saying, you crazy bastard?!” Sienna asked with a baffled look.

Eugene chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, “I don’t know about me. But Molon will be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” questioned Sienna.

“Because it’s Molon,” answered Eugene.

~

—Every time you become strange, suffer, or go mad, I’ll call you a fool and come to beat you up.

~

It was a conversation he had with Molon before parting.

~

—Molon, you’re not alone. You haven’t weakened either. Why? Because I’ve taken blows from you like there’s no tomorrow. That alone proves your strength. You’re still a brave and strong warrior.

~

It had been a clumsy and awkward consolation. Eugene had offered these words while on the brink of death after being beaten by Molon as he received support from Kristina and Anise.

Yet, having shared that conversation, Eugene believed in Molon.

“I agree with Hamel. Molon is fine. It’s true his mind had been unstable, but… we met Molon only a year ago,” Anise chimed in with a smile of agreement while sipping her drink. She had been listening to their conversation in silence.

~

—Molon, you are the only one capable of fulfilling this mission. Even if we were all alive, we would have had to entrust this to someone. Not just Sir Vermouth, but even we would have asked you the same.

~

When Anise said as much, Molon had responded.

~

—Then I have no choice but to do it.

~

“This is pissing me off.” Sienna’s face flushed with anger as she listened. “What you’re all recalling now is from when I wasn’t there,” she said.

“That’s right. It was when you were sealed within the World Tree,” Eugene replied nonchalantly.

Anise, however, whispered with a serpentine smirk, “Yes, Sienna. This is a memory you don’t share. It’s one between Kristina, Hamel, Molon, and me.”

Sienna’s fists trembled at her words.

“Let’s ask Molon to lose his mind once more. Not completely, just about half,” Sienna declared.

“Are you crazy?” Eugene asked, shocked.

Sienna snapped, “I mean, he should only pretend to go mad. Don’t overthink it. Just recreate the situation when I wasn’t there. I just want to say something plausible to Molon when he regains his sanity.”

“Why enact such a scene? We could simply meet Molon and tell him directly,” said Anise.

“If we greeted each other warmly and then blurted out such words, wouldn’t it seem strange?” asked Sienna.

“You’ve always been peculiar. No need for unnecessary worries now,” retorted Anise. With a snort, she poured more wine into her cup.

Sienna pouted, pondering what words she would have for Molon. She suddenly exclaimed, “The northern lands are cold, right? Winter clothes… no, no! A hot river!”

“You mean a hot spring?” asked Anise.

“Yes, a hot spring! Molon boasted about the hot springs in his homeland. We couldn’t go three hundred years ago, but now we can…,” Sienna trailed off before coughing awkwardly. She glanced at Eugene, then at Anise, who held her cup mid-air. After a pause, Sienna said, “I meant with you, Anise.” 𝑖𝘳.𝒸ℴ𝑚

“…Yes, I see…. Ah, I remember. Three hundred years back, we made a promise, Sienna. You and I would bathe together in the hot spring.”

In the face of Sienna’s sudden enthusiasm, Anise, who’d harbored a glimmer of hope, showed her clear disappointment with her clumsy attempt at recovery.

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