I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist

Arjen, the ‘Protagonist,’ willed into existence a weapon. It was the Holy Sword he wielded in the original novel. Before I could develop my thoughts further, the two Arjen’s crashed. There was no time to waste. I attacked the original’s back.

The impostor easily shook off Arjen and swung against my attack. It followed the exact same motion, but it was angled slightly differently. Perhaps it would coil around my blade like a snake, climb up, and reach the hilt, wrenching my sword out of grasp. It was instinct to read the sword and react. Our Holy Swords clashed, and we were both thrown back by the recoil. However, I was pushed a little farther. He was stronger than me.

I quickly corrected my stance. Our skill was nearly equal, with him having a slight advantage. It was probably the same with Arjen. He may be stronger, but the original has defeated several Disasters. It would be hard for Arjen to gain the upper hand.

“Can you hold it for a bit?”

Arjen asked, frowning.

“I’ll do my best.”

I accelerated. I can’t feel my mana. I can’t even feel my body. The only thing I can feel is the sword in my hand. I followed the impostor’s movements, the path of his blade, and how he used them together. I can match it. I can follow him. I probably wouldn’t be able to best him, but I can definitely stall him for long enough.

So, I defended. I block without advancing. The impostor’s sword moved diagonally, reaching for my throat. I casually parried it. Inch by inch, push by push, I walked a tightrope, giving but not yielding. He stared at me viciously. He tried different techniques and reckless attacks to knock me over, but I held.

“Good.”

An intense light suddenly appeared behind my back. The impostor kicked my sword away and hurriedly stumbled away. He glared at Arjen with eyes now utterly devoid of anything but white.

“You-!”

“Looks like you needed your eyes.”

Arjen frowned faintly. Their gazes met for a moment, and then the swords. Arjen’s blade clashed with the impostor’s, his expression hardening in the first exchange of blows. The impostor maintained his furious expression. Arjen didn’t need to tell me what to do. I stepped in, not missing the space that had opened up.

Swords clashed again. My sword kept the impostor’s sword from advancing, and Arjen tried to force his way in and create a gap. In a clear division of roles, the connection flowed, and our sword paths never diverged,

But none of it ever hit. I stepped back, catching my breath. Arjen laughed and spat on the ground. Arjen wiped his chin and glared into the impostor’s eyes.

“He’s too damn strong. I don’t know if my tactic of charging in while you cover will work.”

“Probably not.”

We would be able to beat him. Arjen is at the end of his rope, and the Protagonist’s talent with the sword is unrivaled. The evil god was even empowering him.

“How about we fight without having specific roles.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“Just make it work. I’ll make my move, and you’ll match my movements.”

“Shouldn’t the stronger one be used as the core of the strategy?”

At my question, Arjen’s brow narrowed as if he were about to say something more; then, he turned his head at a voice that interrupted the discussion.

“Look at you. You’ve been forced to join hands with someone you can’t work with.”

The impostor’s words were filled with anger. I could have sworn lava was boiling in his throat instead of phlegm. His hair was now a black fog, evaporating and melting, the shadows of the mist growing darker and darker as it slowly engulfed his body.

“Were you always that much of a pushover? I don’t remember you being that bad.”

Arjen narrows his eyes in subtlety, wondering what it’s like to watch another of his own rampage.

“…That’s quite embarrassing, but what do you mean by that?”

“Take some time to reflect.”

The impostor ran again. His speed was different. Arjen and I accelerated our thinking instantly, reacting to the attack. Blows flew in from both sides, almost looking like one continuous attack. After running a few calculations, I drew my second sword.

“You can’t run.”

We followed it. Perhaps I was proving to be more of a nuisance to the impostor as it turned to face me. I hoped he would take the bait, as keeping up with his pace was tough.

“…Reminds me of Fast and Furious.”

“You could have slashed me a thousand times with your words, you son of a bitch.”

I didn’t like how he ran his mouth without substance, so I trusted my instincts and fought. Combat experience? Talent? That’s not what is going to decide this fight. Experience. Experience facing someone ridiculously stronger than me. I thought of the Ashen Bear, Arachne, White Wolves, Trial of the Crown, and the Giant. I thought of all those who could have taken my throat, my breath.

“What an arrogant sword.”

My blade pushed back the impostor. Arjen used the opening to attack. I could faintly hear the impostor’s voice as though it were somewhere far away.

“I didn’t know you could be so level-headed.”

The exchange of blows was effortless. Just as I shifted my tactics, Arjen began to change his attacks, his blows being parried just as easily as mine.

“I am your future. I am the you of another world. How could you think I couldn’t think of something you could think of?”

The impostor sneered as he blocked Arjen’s slash. His hair, once a mist, was now writhing and swaying like algae buried in the ocean’s depths.

“Deep down, you know it, don’t you? That something is wrong.”

I could hear the impostor whispering. I glanced at Arjen’s face, anxious to see if the words would sway him, but what I feared seemed not to happen. I saw the corner of Arjen’s mouth twist upward.

“You should know that I bow to no one.”

Arjen pointed his sword and began to recite a line I’d heard many times in the original.

“Grace doubled; vengeance tenfold. All your words are wrong; only mine are right.”

Perhaps Carla had said it to him when she was alive. The impostor’s face scrunched when Arjen said it with the expression of one burdened by memory.

“So many things in your head, and you’ve forgotten these words?”

“You… you, how dare you say that….”

The impostor’s eyes flickered with madness momentarily, then returned to normal. Arjen’s sword charged without giving the impostor a chance to think. Up, up, up, down again. The fake’s response slowed. Arjen took advantage of it. The impostor’s sword flashed, and Arjen’s form blurred.

The two identical figures had clashed.

“Did it ever occur to you that your current behavior is strange?”

“Shut up! You’ve seen everything! I’ve shared all those memories, and you’re just blabbering on like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Are you just saying that because you don’t want to listen?”

A shockwave ran through the nonexistent space. Arjen’s black hair fluttered wildly.

“Even if the world were to end, even if you could stop him, even if you could live a life that would leave you with no regre–!”

“To be honest-”

Arjenlunged forward. Messy. That was the best way to describe how Arjen fights.

“Who asked?”

***

Above. From the side. Straight down the middle.

Arjen’s eyes traced the impostor’s sword without pause. A familiar trajectory. It was a little more advanced than his own sword, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle.

‘Forward? No, we can’t break it from the front right now.’

White, whiter, whiter. His vision, mind, and heart. It’s been a while since he’s thought only about moving forward, not looking back, and growing whiter and white. His motto was to only deal with what’s in front of him.

The force was different. Arjen grimaced at the pressure pushing him backward. His hand tingled. If he hadn’t trained mindlessly before, he would have been crushed by that sword strike. His eyes snapped open. ‘I corrected my stance, shed my arrogance, and admitted that I was weaker than my opponent.’

“…I suppose I learned a little from watching you.”

Arjen glanced at Elroy. During the battle, the Hero’s concentration never wavered, a tenacity even Arjen couldn’t ignore.

“Save the world, huh?”

It was a dream. A vain, grandiose vision. The mercenary who had never known redemption thought so. The light of redemption was fleeting, and nothing was left for him.

“Can I trust you a little?”

Arjen muttered and turned away, the impostor standing before him. Arjen didn’t know whether to pity him or loathe him. Instead, it vented his anger at Arjen in a scratchy voice.

“Don’t look at me with your fucking eyes.”

“Do you ever feel sorry for yourself?”

“Kill me, I’ll throw you away.”

The impostor’s mood changed again. The more angry it got, the weirder it seemed to get. ‘What are you so obsessed with?’ The impostor’s sword was faster now, a blur even to Arjen’s eyes. The corner of Arjen’s mouth twisted as he blocked it.

“You’re trading memories for power.”

“Shut up.”

Shock ran through Arjen. The more the opponent loses reason, the better his chances against them. He could win. Arjen’s sword touched the impostor’s for the first time as the gap in intelligence became increasingly significant.

A gash appears on the impostor’s side. It roared with rage and swung its sword, but Arjen skillfully dodged it, slashing and cutting whenever he got close. However, the shallow wounds healed quickly. Arjen frowned.

‘It seems I can only inflict minor wounds.’

‘Should I push myself, even if I die here?’

‘No.’

Arjen felt the Hero’s presence, still focused and tense.

“I’ll trust you this once.”

Arjen once again moved toward the raging blade.

***

Arjen’s right arm was severed with a familiar metallic sound. I wasn’t surprised; I’d already seen what was coming. I just wondered why Arjen had made the choice he had, but I didn’t have the opportunity to think about it now.

I thrust my sword forward.

The impostor’s arms looked like paper being torn. Arjen looked back at me, giving me an unspoken signal, and as soon as I locked eyes with him, my sword shot forward. A single strike. In my head, I superimposed the impostor on the tens of thousands of training dummies that my sword had slashed.

“Take this!”

The strike sliced the impostor in half neatly and cleanly. I sheathed my sword and drew a small breath, looking at the corpse as Arjen approached me.

“…Well, that was a more anticlimactic end than I expected.”

Arjen stabbed at the split corpse several times as if he hadn’t had enough. I narrowed my eyes as I watched his frustration. Arjen’s left arm hadn’t regenerated. At this point, I was convinced that this was no ordinary mindscape.

“Is your arm okay?”

“I don’t know. It’s really severed. I won’t get another chance to reattach my right arm.”

Arjen stared at his severed right arm. No blood was flowing.

“I suppose it was a cheap shot.”

“…I’m sure Iris can fix it.”

“Elroy.”

Arjen cut me off with a tone I’ve never thought would come from him. It was like he had already given up. I bit my lip, trying to ignore his words. The fact that he’d said my name for the first time made my head blank.

“You know that I don’t want to heal it.”

Arjen spat out the words so casually, so out of character for him. When I looked back at him, he looked at me expressionlessly.

“My body has already killed hundreds of people. Unlike you, who hasn’t cut a single person, I’ve already made a career of killing people even before you joined the Hero’s Party. The number must be in the thousands.”

Arjen spoke calmly.

“…I’m saying I’m not the one to save.”

“What?”

Before I could ask, Arjen and I were frozen in place.

“■■■■.”

With an unintelligible noise, the crumbling body of the impostor began to come together.