The Icy Hero is Yearning for Love - Chapter 2
I had a childhood friend whom I was quite fond of.
He was strong, gentle, and brave. More so than anyone else.
…Too brave, in fact.
Behind our orphanage had stood a towering olive tree. And his hair and eyes had been the same warm shade of brown as its trunk.
His eyes would glitter upon every new discovery, and his laughs were always open-mouthed and unrestrained.
Whenever he became hurt because of me, he would just grin, as if trying to comfort me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, laughter spilling from his lips. I couldn’t believe he could still do so.
Then he shoved me away with the hand he often used to caress my hair.
I fell onto the bed at the back of the room, stunned. When I looked up, Allen had lowered his gaze, still smiling. The Holy Sword was still clutched in his hand, but he now stood in leather armor. I had a similar set. We used it during training.
Then the door slammed shut.
Realization finally struck me. I rushed forward and banged over and over again at the door, trying to force it open. But it wouldn’t budge. Allen must’ve barricaded it.
I tried to summon my magic, but because my emotions ran wild, it wasn’t strong enough. Still, I didn’t give up on opening the door. A long while later, I somehow managed to get out of the basement.
Once I climbed up to the surface, I saw Allen. He sat leaning against the cross of the chapel.
He looked at peace. There even seemed to be a hint of a smile on his face. Yet, his eyes were hollow.
Deep gashes ran through his entire body, a pool of scarlet beneath him. But even without these clues, it was obvious that Allen was no longer alive.
Because of the large hole in the middle of his chest.
I had no clear memory of what occurred after that.
I just knew screams and sobs escaped from me as I held Allen’s body. As the chapel burned down, the Holy Sword cast a protective barrier over me. How ridiculous.
I would never forgive the world that had snatched away Allen. My treasure.
✢
Following that event, I threw away my identity as Riley, naming myself Allen instead.
To make Allen’s name known to the world. To leave proof of Allen’s existence.
If there was someone who should be called a hero in this world, it would be no other than him.
Everyone referred to me as one, but not once had I felt that way.
My nature wasn’t as heroic as it seemed to be.
Kill, kill, kill. Kill the demon that burned the village. That took Allen away. Kill its fellow demon co-conspirators. Kill the demons behind the attack.
Without mercy nor hesitance, I sliced off their heads. Time after time, the Holy Sword would stain scarlet, but with one swing, it would return to its prior immaculate state.
Those demons had been the ones that tormented Allen to death. That burned down my beloved village to ashes.
Dead or alive, I wouldn’t be able to meet Allen again. He was already in heaven, a place beyond my reach. As such, I no longer cared how I’d die.
