Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of dispirited footsteps gradually faded away. Adam had gone.

Now, only the two of us remained in this room, Sylvia... no, I should call you Sylvia now.

There's so much I want to tell you.

Necross still needs preparation. Adam isn't in good condition. The Obsidian Mage Corps haven't all arrived yet.

These necessary actors aren't quite ready, and you happened to be attacked and lost consciousness. What perfect timing.

Where should I begin? Let me think...

First of all, the reason I ended up signing a contract with Necross beneath the Demon King's Castle should probably be traced back to that absent-minded traveler who forgot his pendant in the church.

Twenty-seven years ago in autumn, Silverleaf Town held its annual Harvest Festival as usual. A traveler happened to pass through.

He drank at the festival, danced, and joined in the games.

He must have been quite handsome, with a strong sense of justice, and could recite the Star God's teachings and tales offhand. Perhaps he even had one or two fleeting romances.

Anyway, after hanging around town for a year, the traveler left on the eve of the next year's Harvest Festival.

On his last night, he went to the Star Church. The church closed early back then—actually, it always had. But perhaps because she was kind-hearted, a red-haired nun opened the door for him and even performed the Star Prayer ritual with him.

The nun never told me, so to this day I don't know what question he asked or what memories he gave up.

The ritual ended. The traveler left. While cleaning up, the nun noticed an extra "Twin Stars' Blessing" pendant wrapped around a moonstone staff—clearly something the traveler had forgotten.

So, she went out searching for that traveler all night. All she found were scattered piles of birch leaves, neatly stacked crates of apples, and me lying on top of those apple piles.

And so, I spent my childhood in the church.

As I recall, the nun never smiled at me. Only when she spoke of the traveler would the corners of her mouth curve into the subtlest hint of a smile.

Many times, I asked her who my parents really were, whether that traveler—and she herself—had played some significant role in it.

But she neither admitted nor denied it, only telling me that I should become a hero like that traveler when I grew up. Perhaps there were older, more complex circumstances behind it all. However, the nun died of a cold when I was eight, so it's impossible to verify now.

The Star God has a doctrine: "Mother walks the path of yesterday's star, child shines with tomorrow's light, together they endure." It probably means that mother and child should rely on each other.

After the nun died, the devout bishop and priests, following this teaching, buried her body together with me beside the abandoned watchtower at the edge of town.

But guess what? That saying really holds some truth. The young Viscount Goldflame happened to be wandering nearby—perhaps hunting or practicing magic... Anyway, he dug me up.

To this day, I still vividly remember the scene: the continuous drizzle, the bothersome mosquitoes, and the pristine white gloves the viscount wore.

He said to the guard beside him:

"Remarkable. This child is actually still alive. If he accomplishes any great deeds in the future, then today we will have witnessed the beginning of a heroic legend."

To be honest, even though the nun had talked about it repeatedly, I had no real concept of the so-called "future" back then.

But it wasn't so bad, was it? I decided I'd try being a hero. Heroes are respected. They have places to live, good food to eat, women to keep them company. Couldn't ask for more.

I took the opportunity to ask the viscount what a hero was. He said, "Hard to define. But a mage from the Obsidian Mage Corps is certainly a hero."

After returning to town, I began teaching myself magic.

I did odd jobs at the Silverleaf Workshop and other places, and whenever I had free time, I'd secretly sneak in a few pages of magic books.

Lots of kids weren't too happy about this and came looking for trouble. Some of them were even from wealthy families who'd apparently been learning magic since childhood. As it turned out, they only proved that idiots shouldn't touch magic.

Then some adults started getting dissatisfied too, to the point where I lost even my odd jobs at the Silverleaf Workshop. If the potion shop owner hadn't still been willing to help me out, I might have gone to find my mother already.

That period was a bit unpleasant. But I thought that as long as I could join the Obsidian Mage Corps, all of that would just fade away.

Then... let me think, it was the Harvest Festival ten years ago.

I took on the job of helping manage and clean up the festival grounds. When the festival ended, I tidied up the stall I was responsible for and casually grabbed a few apples to stuff in my pockets. By then, it was already evening.

That day was clear and cloudless, not a single cloud in the sky. The laughter and joy of the festival still seemed to echo in my ears. I didn't really want to leave, so I picked up a bottle of ale from the ground and wandered through the festival—now mine alone.

I'd worked all day, drank some ale, eaten some sour apples, and my head was a bit fuzzy.

So when the first magical beast appeared, I wasn't paying attention and got three fingers bitten off.

After barely managing to kill it, a second one came right away and took two more fingers, leaving me unable to even hold a bottle... Ha, it's easy to talk about now, but it hurt like hell back then.

I was terrified at the time, but also a little excited.

The chance to become a hero had arrived.

I bandaged my wounds and first headed toward the potion shop, where flames were already rising. I didn't meet the potion shop owner, but I happened to run into his wife and child being chased by monsters.

I saved them. I had several new bloody holes in my body, was gasping for breath, and looked pretty rough—so much so that the usually quiet Adam even spoke up, urging me to take shelter.

I agreed casually, then continued wandering through town, planning to save a few more people.

Then the viscount arrived with a squad of mages.

I asked him where they were going. He said they were going to eliminate a demon that had fled into the forest. I followed along.

That demon... how should I put it? A worthless piece of trash with no spirit or charm whatsoever. Its only troublesome feature was its runes. It wasn't fit to be the villain in any legendary tale.

The viscount killed it easily. But after that, we got lost in the forest.

No matter which direction we walked, we always ended up back where we started. Those trees—similar yet not quite the same—seemed to cycle endlessly. Some began claiming they saw the dead.

Gradually, the whole group grew restless. That's when Necross appeared.

The moment I saw it—the viscount, everyone—we all understood at once.

This was the source of the anomaly. This was the messenger of death. It would bring an end to the entire town.

In their panic, the mages launched desperate attacks, all futile, of course.

Necross didn't fight back. Instead, it pointed to a path. It said that following this path would lead us out. Then it left.

The viscount stared at that faint, barely visible path for a long time. Finally, he slowly removed his gloves, turned to the mages—and perhaps, to me as well—and said:

"This path is clearly a trap, but we have no other choice. Who is willing to lead the way? I will appoint them as Head Mage. Even if they sacrifice themselves in doing so, this promise still stands."

The mages stirred restlessly, but no one answered for a long time.

So I raised my hand first. After receiving the viscount's praise and promise, I stepped onto the path, ventured deeper, and was gnawed on by monsters—my arm chewed off, my insides devoured, my body torn apart.

The viscount and the other mages passed by my upper body and left the forest safely.

I struggled to stay conscious, fantasizing about being buried in that gold-embroidered white Head Mage robe. Through my hazy vision, Necross appeared before me.

"Remarkable tenacity. You're still alive. I must give you a gift."

It cast a spell on me. And so, my shattered body slowly began to piece itself together, my fading consciousness gradually clearing—just enough to fully savor the pain.

Necross said:

"You will revive. After that, you may do as you wish."

"However, I have placed a curse upon you. On your 27th birthday, you will meet a gruesome death."

"Don't worry. I will find you again before that day comes. Then, we can slowly discuss the terms for lifting the curse."

After Necross left, a light rain began to fall in the forest. Countless snails emerged from the soil, slowly crawling all over my body.

Four days later, I rose from the ground once more. When I returned to Silverleaf Town, the viscount was just conferring the title of Head Mage upon his new appointee.