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As I read a book in kindergarten, I blinked with the feelings of the president hearing that the twin towers had collapsed.

I figured it was totally messed up.

It had been a week since the hero was summoned, and nothing was happening, which seemed strange, until—

“Colonel Frederick Nostrim, you’ve been chosen as the hero’s companion.”

Such a ridiculous thing had occurred.

Episode 1 – The Gray Man

As soon as I arrived at work, I was called into the conference room, where I was hit with the horrifying news that I had been chosen as the hero’s companion.

“First, I understand this might be hard to believe, but you have been chosen as the hero’s companion.”

This can’t be real…

I desperately tried to deny reality and opened my mouth.

“Is, is that so? But why am I…?”

“That I do not know. The cult is the one that knows the oracle’s content, not our information agency.”

Ah, damn. That makes sense.

I completely forgot that a letter from the Cardinal would arrive after completing the quest at the royal palace, announcing the oracle about the hero. This was the very first event, and I mistakenly thought our information agency would know about it. It was tough to check the content of a letter delivered personally by the Cardinal.

Probably, the Cardinal only told us the names of the four chosen as heroes, leaving out the important details. The Pope’s candidate priestess for the saint, the alchemist who is the heir of the Magic Tower, the barbarian hero from the plains, and the Elf archer who protects the World Tree. Now I remembered.

I nodded vigorously.

It would be suicidal to mention those companions and ask why I was included. After all, I was just finding out I had been chosen as the hero’s companion. If I blurted out such nonsense, the expert at rooting out spies, Colonel Clevenz, would surely suspect me.

“I understand that it’s hard to accept. Until just a moment ago, you were an ordinary soldier in the information agency.”

The way you specifically said ‘until just a moment ago’ makes me think it’s not the case anymore, right?

That’s probably true. If the hero’s companion belonged to a specific country or organization, or if they were a soldier, especially an agent in the information agency, there would have been a few politicians going haywire.

Of course, the international community is a place where if you have power, you can do something ridiculous like closing your eyes to nonsense, so it was possible to gloss over such controversies with names like the ‘candidate saint.’ But that was something possible for a saint (聖人) in a religion that many on the continent believed in, while being an agent in the information agency made that impossible.

Now, as the apocalypse looms ahead, my reasons for considering international affairs and diplomatic relations were simple. This dark fantasy world of a mired game was filled with idiots who would rather start a civil war over a crown than see their country decline. And once I left the information agency, I would have nowhere to go. That was the most important thing.

First and foremost, a soldier must belong somewhere. Whether it’s to a unit, the headquarters, or as an instructor in a school. If they don’t belong anywhere, they can’t get promoted and must take off their uniform. Especially if you leave before finishing 20 years, you lose your pension. Who would take a former information agency soldier into their unit? And me, as the hero’s companion, would need to head abroad—who would handle the pile of work piling up due to my absence?

But I still didn’t know. An elite mind from the information agency could come up with a plausible solution.

“What happens to me? Will I have to leave the information agency?”

“That’s likely. In the worst case, you might have to take off the uniform.”

Colonel Clevenz grinned widely as he continued.

“But don’t worry too much. Creating a new identity isn’t difficult.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“You’ll have plenty to do ahead, but for today, feel free to go home.”

I closed the door to the conference room and stepped outside.

I felt drained, and my shoulders sagged. My plan of getting to enjoy my lazy time in the safe capital while the hero saved the world had shattered into pieces. More than that, the thought of possibly losing my job started to fill me with dread for the forthcoming future.

Stomp. Stomp.

The corridors echoed with the sound of military boots, the quiet space ripe for needless pondering. Walking through the empty halls, I fell into deep thoughts. Of course, I could think quickly enough because of the many meals I’d shared in the information agency.

I had become the fifth companion of the hero, which should not have existed.

I did not know what this had to do with me reincarnating into the world of a game, but instinctively, I sensed I had been thrust into an unavoidable situation.

Now I have no idea how the future might unfold. By becoming the hero’s companion, the plot could change completely, or it might go on flowing like the original story. Perhaps, the hero is a troll itself, and I might need to grab it by the hair and lead it. I spread my boundless imagination, but in the end, all of it was futile. It was imagination about an uncertain future. There weren’t even any signs of it. Usually, ideas without evidence were called fictional musings or delusions.

I halted my delusional circuits and gathered my wits. What mattered now was that my situation had completely changed. I went from praying at the altar for the hero to save the world to now rolling alongside the hero on the same level. That was the most significant matter.

There was a chance I might not be able to keep my identity as a soldier. To avoid political issues, I might have to take off my uniform or leave the information agency altogether. But if Colonel Clevenz said not to worry, I could just believe him. After all, he was an elite who had been active in this field longer than I had.

After much deliberation, I reached a decision.

With quick steps, I left the information agency building and headed toward my lodging. I climbed the stairs and entered my home, unlocking the cabinet with a lock. There were piles of documents filling one cabinet. Information I had gathered over 28 years about the heroes of the Dark World.

I rummaged through them and pulled out a roughly one-foot-sized section from the very beginning about the royal palace.

What mattered to me now was the fact that the hero was staying at the royal palace and that there was still a bit of time left before the world fell apart.

Though my plans built over 28 years had been shattered,

“Hah…”

I was still able to give it a shot.

“…Done.”

Finally.

Finally, it was over.

I tossed aside the used pen and gazed out the window. The twinkling starlight seeped into the pitch-black darkness.

Stretching, I sprawled on the floor. The rustling sound of papers crinkled every time I moved. The floor was completely covered with papers to the extent that there was barely even space to step. These were the contents I had organized close to prophetic detail without even stepping outside these past few days.

I hadn’t just wasted 28 years praying idly. I had gathered as much information as possible about the characters and surrounding countries and organizations. Clipping newspaper articles, organizing rumors I had heard from various places, and gathering books or interviews related to them.

The information I collected during my years working at the information agency exceeded what I gathered over 20 years, but that was expected since I had worked there specifically to gather such data. It’s simply natural for the quantity to exceed; the quality was obviously not to be questioned.

I stretched out my arms and pulled towards a set of documents piled to one side. Pictures were affixed on top, and the names, birth dates, residences, and recent activities of the hero’s companions were laid out on the pages. I turned through them slowly.

Having seen them so many times that the paper was nearly weathered, I instinctively recalled who was doing what and where, but it never hurt to strengthen my memory.

As each page turned, information about familiar individuals appeared.

The priest serving the saint, the alchemist cast aside in the heir dispute, the barbarian hero wandering the desert seeking revenge for their slain father, and the Elf protecting the World Tree.

I filled in the gaps for information about areas that the kingdom’s intelligence network could not reach based on the remembered settings and revised it with incoming data as much as possible. I wasn’t entirely sure if my memories were accurate, or if I had made mistakes somewhere. I skimmed through the details, pondering how I would guide these misfits to save the world.

And then my gaze landed on one paper.

“…Lucia.”

The candidate saint priestess in the Papal Territory.

Though it was called a candidate saint, she was practically serving as the saint’s attendant for now. In this world, being a saint wasn’t a job determined by the gods but a kind of position. To become a saint, one must receive a recommendation from a Cardinal and gain a sufficient number of votes from the bishops.

And this girl, chosen as the hero’s companion, would soon become a candidate saint upon receiving the Cardinal’s recommendation.

Of course, becoming a true saint was an entirely different matter from receiving a recommendation from the Cardinal. Many bishops had to support her more than the number of Cardinals. Furthermore, in a dark fantasy world filled with fallen clergy, corruption-laden elections, smear campaigns, ghost voting, and even electoral interferences were not uncommon.

And this poor girl, who appears in the game, would suffer under smear campaigns and ultimately never be chosen as a saint, instead joining the hero’s journey as the candidate saint.

Numerous events stem from this. In the game, events related to the hero’s companions average well over half involve this girl and the alchemist. The cult would not let a new candidate saint remain undisturbed. The alchemist, who was ousted from the heir dispute, would become a new rival to the head of the Magic Tower.

That’s why the priest and alchemist are referred to as walking time bombs. For that reason, many strategies posted in the community recommended separating the priest from the alchemist to clear the game. There weren’t any options to refuse, but there weren’t any obligations to keep them alive either.

If one followed that strategy, the priest and alchemist would meet miserable fates. However, from a player’s perspective, losing a character they had already decided to ditch was simply the endgame. It wasn’t exactly a burden.

But in this world, once you die, you truly die.

Before I came to the rear headquarters, I had been on the frontline and had seen countless corpses. The sensation of those corpses, the scent of decay, and the emotions felt by those around cannot be replicated by some program. I can firmly assert that not even an AI like AlphaGo, nor even Skynet, could create that.

Will I take the risk and accept both of them? Or will I have to abandon them, tormented by guilt?

I looked out the window at the endless stars, sinking into thought.

“…Sigh.”

Thoughts were quick, decisions were cautious.

On the 13th day since the hero was summoned, and the 5th day since I became the hero’s companion, at dawn,

After five days of contemplation, I decided.

I would give it a shot.

 

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