Monster no Goshujin-sama

59.

Let's tell one old story before we tell the truth about the world.

That's a distant memory for a man.

The events of the day on which all paths were decided.

"... what is this"

It was Hazel's eyed boy who raised an unusual voice.

In my hand, an old book.

It was what he found in the corner of the house's study.

Still unreachable to the age of ten, he was born in the house of imperial nobility.

The house is a clan of graces with brave men in their ancestors who saved this world.

Nevertheless, it was a prestige that has been producing cathedral knights for generations.

- We are not inherently part of this world.

- Therefore, I have a duty to protect this world that is keeping me alive.

- Don't forget. Be proud as a knight.

The father told the boy and the boy responded well.

The boy had a good understanding of the value of the role he would be carrying.

Nor was he dissatisfied with going that way.

Become a fine knight, just like my father, and defend the world by supporting the brave.

That's what I thought.

Until that day.

"This is a diary......?

That was the journal that the metastatic girl, the ancestor of the boy's house, was wearing.

I don't know how, I don't know if that was here.

It was natural to be treated politely, even if it was just a diary, if it was a brave, itchy product.

But it was hundreds of years ago that she appeared in another world.

Perhaps over the years, somewhere in the study I got lost in some applause.

The diary said something from when the girl transferred and learned to write for a while to when she started working as a brave man.

For the boy, it was content enough to stifle his curiosity.

If I could have known the routine of my esteemed ancestors, I wouldn't have had a choice not to read it.

Naturally, the boy knew the legend of his ancestors' brave men.

Though she had no special abilities, she was steadfastly encouraged to drill and was told as a woman brave with numerous achievements.

He is a hero who worked with the knights to protect people and even crusaded some comatose forests.

The study-keen boy knew her properly.

I was going to know.

So as soon as I started reading, I was struck by an unexpected thought.

The diary spelled out the girl's mood without covering it up.

- I had anxiety about being flown to a place I didn't know.

- There was an appreciation for the people who accepted me.

- There was despair about not being able to return to the original world.

- There was excitement about being able to gain power.

- There was fear of having to fight monsters.

- I had the courage to fight for the people I took care of.

- I couldn't help it. There was a curse for my condition.

- I had the happiness of meeting people.

It's not just beautiful.

Or not just dirty.

Beyond the diary was just a human being.

The boy was overwhelmed by the presence of the stripped girl.

I was blinded by the days of one girl who lives desperately in pain of difficulty.

If I realized it, I'd read it all the way to the end at once.

When I closed the diary, my perception of my ancestors had changed completely in the boy.

Totally exceptionally in this world, the young boy found out that the existence of a deified brave man was the same person as himself.

And aspiring to be a knight, he was more equipped with feelings of care and responsibility for others than the crowd.

That is why it may have been inevitable to reach that conclusion.

The boy thought to himself.

I wonder if we are wrong to rely on transferees as brave men.

The metastasizer is a pathetic drifter.

Disconnected from the original world, he has grief and solitude.

Can we let them bear the harsh reality of this world?

That's not right.

That's pathetic.

The knightly shall have the duty to save all things with the sword in his hand.

Yet do we continue to make ourselves suffer forever in the same presence as this girl?

Can you forgive yourself for being born a knight like that?

No, no, no.

The problems of this world should be solved by ourselves, born into this world.

If no one can do that, I will accomplish it myself.

Myself is the substitute for the brave.

Instead of the brave, protect this world.

I'm sure I'm here for that.

Determination is hard on childhood, too, purely because it is childhood.

That day, the boy swore to the girl across the journal.

... For once, what he held at that time could have been close to his first love.

For the boy, the oath was sacred.

He asked for strength, more and more than ever.

In search of power beyond even the brave, he layered a drill on the drill.

Sadly, he deserved it.

Or maybe it was the determination to stay in that breast that qualified me.

As a loving son of a grace, he expressed his abilities.

Nevertheless, its abilities were not particularly superior to those of other gracious loved ones.

Unfortunately, his ancestors had no special abilities.

Thus, no inherent abilities were expressed in the boy either.

Conditions were never better than, for example, inherently capable ancestors like "Shining Wings" or "Holy Eyes" or "Foresight Eyes" or "War Ghost".

But the boy didn't even bother to do that.

He knew his ancestral brave men.

There was no way I could be allowed to be inferior to the power I inherited from that girl who desperately lived my days in the other world.

That thought made him stronger.

The boy becomes a youth and becomes more powerful as a knight.

Even though the pale love heart turned into a plundered treasure of distant days, only that day's vows continued to be held in my chest without fading.

And finally, the day came.

The day when he builds up an impressive track record and will be at the top of the Knights to which he belongs.

Regardless, for him, that's a starting point, not a goal.

Already at this point, he had only gained the strength to cross the average brave man.

I believed that this would allow me to fulfill my vows that day.

Change everything from here.

I was going to.

"Excuse me, sir."

With hope and ideals in his heart, the young man knocked at the door of the room of the high priest who called himself.

You don't have to know what to wait for.