S31 Life

I will never forget the moment I killed my first monster.

Skills exist. Status values exist. Plus, levels increase upon killing monsters.

Born into a world that felt like a game, I lived as if it were one.

It was then, when Hayami nearly killed me, that I realized my mistake.

And when this hand took a life.

That occurred after she enrolled at the academy.

A practical exercise involving combat against monsters took place. For the first time in my life, I faced a monster directly.

During the academy's practical training, the monster faced by the inexperienced student was notably weak.

Something small enough to be considered an animal, capable of being repelled even by humans who do not typically engage in combat, provided they are adults.

Still, a monster is a monster.

Monsters are predatory beasts that actively attack humans. Even weak ones must be eliminated to prevent harm.

A monster, no matter how weak, is not without danger.

Even if adults can repel them, that means children are at risk.

And even adults are not guaranteed to survive unharmed—worse, death is possible.

In fact, despite their weakness, such monsters still caused injuries each year.

Practical training involved exposing students to combat with monsters, but also served to thin their numbers.

Therefore, hesitation in killing monsters is unacceptable.

But...

A monster that sought my life with genuine intent.

It possessed will—alive, conscious will.

Not a programmed entity, but one that thought and acted accordingly.

I had underestimated fighting monsters—more precisely, fighting living creatures.

Not in terms of power disparity between combatants.

That said, my stats were high for my age group, and I could easily defeat weaker monsters.

Not that.

Describing that sensation was difficult.

But at that moment, I realized the truth: facing a monster made combat feel more real—and more terrifying—than anything I had imagined.

Yes, it was terrifying.

The monster advancing toward me, intent on killing me, and the necessity of me killing it.

In the end, I failed to kill the monster in my first battle. I could only avoid its attacks.

Then, seeing my hesitation, Palton from my squad delivered the final blow.

Effortlessly.

"Why...?"

I asked Palton that.

I didn’t even know what I was questioning.

I simply spoke aloud whatever words came to mind.

— Sorry. I couldn’t help but notice you were struggling.

Parthon's response to my question was not an apology for taking the prey from me.

Overstepped my bounds. Upon reflection, it was unreasonable to expect Lord Schrein to struggle with a creature of this caliber. I see! You were observing the monster's movements! Even weak monsters require full attention. A valuable lesson.

No.

Not that.

That was not what I wished to know. Nor was it the reason I could not defeat the monster.

But I understand.

It will be realized.

This—this is the difference between this world and Japan.

In this world, life holds little weight.

Too light.

Killing monsters is standard procedure.

Demons are enemies. Killing them is expected.

Even between people, killing each other happens easily.

And toward the lives taken, humans in this world are astonishingly indifferent.

They take lives as if performing a task.

No particular emotion marked Palton’s reaction to killing monsters.

I am no saint.

Even in Japan, I ate meat and killed insects.

One cannot claim the value of life is equal, whether insect, animal, or human.

Monsters are predators that attack people—understanding that killing them is necessary to avoid being killed oneself is clear.

Yet, killing monsters as casually as one kills insects—this caused resistance.

Still, in the end, that day, I killed my first monster with my own hands.

Fear of betraying Palton’s respect.

And above all, remembering the moment when Yagami attacked me and I nearly died.

I had to become capable of protecting myself. From that resolve, I took the life of a monster to raise my level.

I took a life—on my own terms.

I will never forget it.

The feel of the blade splitting skin, severing flesh, shattering bone.

The scent of blood spraying outward.

The final cry of a dying creature.

The image burned into my eyes—the moment a life ceased.

Not a CG from a game screen. This was real death.

In Japan, we eliminate pests.

More precisely, the meat on store shelves once lived as cattle or pigs.

To survive, humans must take lives.

Indirectly, we take countless lives every day.

But I did not know that taking a life directly would weigh so heavily.

And so I began to think.

If this is how it feels to kill a monster, then how heavy must it be to kill a human?

Terrifying.

Just thinking about it is terrifying.

How could Natsume have done such a thing?

If he had experienced the same burden, he would not think this world is a dream.

This world is like a game, yet not a game.

Even if lives are treated lightly, their weight remains unchanged—just as on Earth.

People simply do not understand that.

They do understand.

In a world where conflict never ends, one must treat life as light to survive.

They kill monsters and demonkind for their own survival, just as I do.

I cannot tell them to stop.

I have killed monsters for my own sake.

This burden will remain with me for life.

I understand the desire to lessen that weight by treating life as less significant.

But saying it’s unavoidable doesn’t change my mind.

I know a hero who, even knowing it was impossible, still pursued their ideal until death.

“Dreams are fine. Let them laugh at impossible fantasies. But aiming toward something—shouldn’t that be allowed? A world where peace reigns and all live smiling. I will follow that ideal. Until the end of my life.”

Julius elder brother spoke thus, and continued fighting.

The contradiction of fighting for peace.

Suffering from it, yet hiding that suffering from me, and still fighting.

I wanted to carry on Julius elder brother’s ideal.

I am afraid of fighting.

Afraid of taking life.

Afraid of losing my own.

I cannot become a noble hero like Julius elder brother, who fought with resolve and unwavering will.

My resolve is nothing more than a borrowed imitation of Julius elder brother's.

A half-hearted, flawed, fake hero.

Yet, perhaps precisely because of that, there is something I can do.

Knowing the weight of life—perhaps that is the first step.

Maybe my ethics, shaped in a peaceful Japan, could serve some purpose.

Even if I cannot eliminate conflict, perhaps I can reduce it, just slightly.

A disgraceful, unfit hero—but even I wish to find what I can do.

I want to do my best at whatever I am capable of.

Yes, that was my thought before being expelled from the kingdom, and I have continued to act upon whatever I can do in the present.

Even my thoughts, even Julius elder brother's will—this world's truth mocks them, and I lose composure.

The realization that I had spoken ill came instantly from Kyonya’s expression.

Kyonya wore a strained, pained look—as if holding something back.

From that expression, I understood clearly that Kyonya had not killed Natsume out of desire. A faint relief followed.

Yet the emotions churning within did not settle. I could not press further with words. I only stared at Kyonya’s face.

“…Sorry. I got carried away. Went too far.”

How long had passed? Eventually, I regained a measure of composure. I apologized to Kyonya.

I felt it would be wrong to blame him here.

“No. No need to apologize. Jun is right.”

Kyonya shook his head weakly.

“Envious, really. You can hold fast to what’s right, Jun.”

The same face—lifeless, weak—was the same person who had just slain Natsume. I could not believe it.

That much, I understood: Kyonya had endured much.

He showed weakness for only a moment. But when he closed his eyes and reopened them, his gaze had returned—sharp, resolute.

"Jun is right. But I will not change the path I walk. I will not regret what I have done."

There stood a man whose conviction could not be compromised.

A conviction utterly incompatible with mine.