I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

"Little Alex, what is your dream?"

The old village chief's voice was like the autumn wind, both gentle and dry.

He sat under the crooked oak tree, his cane gently tapping the ground, one tap after another, as if patting the earth on the back.

Leaves drifted down from the golden treetops and gently landed on the back of his hand.

The little hero—no, back then he was just an ordinary child in the village, squatting on the ground watching ants move their nest.

He looked up, and the shadows of leaves swayed in his eyes.

"Protect," he thought seriously for a moment, and finally answered innocently, "I want to protect everyone who is worth protecting."

The old village chief was startled, and his cane almost slipped from his hand.

In this small town where even the loss of a blacksmith's cat becomes the talk of the village, the children's answers, besides the "become a hero" that brings a smile to their parents' faces, are usually "want to raise a talking pig" or "want to eat an endless supply of candy."

Occasionally, a few people with lofty ambitions might say something like, "I want to become an adventurer like David from the next village."

Protect everyone who deserves to be protected.

The old village chief squinted and carefully examined the child in front of him.

He wore a patched linen shirt and had scrapes on his knees from a recent fall, looking no different from the other children in the village.

But deep within those eyes—those azure pupils—there was something that couldn't be ignored, like the brightest star in a summer night.

"So you want to defeat the Demon King?" the old village chief asked tentatively, a hint of a smile in his voice.

The child tilted his head, seemingly pondering the question seriously.

The setting sun cast his shadow long, long, stretching all the way to the path at the village entrance. In the distance, the smell of cooking smoke drifted up, along with the sound of a mother calling her children home for dinner.

The child finally spoke, his tone still earnest, "If the Demon King wants to hurt everyone, I will defeat him."

The day Alex left the village, the whole village came to see him off.

Old John the blacksmith shoved the sword he used when he was an adventurer in his youth into his hands. The sword wasn't great, but it was considered a treasure in the village.

The tailor's wife handed him a gray cloak, saying it would keep him warm while traveling at night.

The girl from the bakery blushed and handed over a cloth bag containing freshly baked rye bread, still warm.

Even the blacksmith's cat came over and rubbed against his trouser leg, as if to say, "Come back soon."

The old village chief stood at the very back of the crowd, under the same crooked oak tree, his cane gently tapping the ground.

"Go, go see the world."

Alex, carrying the "Village Sword" on his back and wearing a gray cloak, walked along the path at the village entrance into the distance.

He walked a long way, and when he looked back, he could still see the old village chief standing in the same spot, his figure getting smaller and smaller until he became an inconspicuous dot under the oak tree.

The outside world is indeed very big.

He walked across the plains where wheat fields rippled in the breeze, and people were harvesting crops. Sweat dripped into the soil, but their smiles were brighter than the sun.

He crossed steep mountain ridges, where the mountain streams were icy cold, and unknown wildflowers bloomed in the cracks of rocks, scattered like purple stars.

He encountered a group of thugs bullying an old man selling fruit in a small town.

Without a second thought, Alex charged forward. The sound of the "Murako Sword" being drawn was crisp and loud. The sword itself wasn't particularly sharp, but the imposing aura it exuded was enough to scare the group away. The old man was moved to tears and insisted on giving him a basket of apples. Unable to refuse, he finally took only one, took a bite, and squinted his eyes at the sweetness.

He once saved a child who had fallen into a river. He was squatting by the river washing his face when he heard a splash and a child fell into the rushing water. He threw his sword, "Murayoshi," on the bank and jumped in. The water was cold, so cold that his teeth chattered, but he still held on tightly to the child's hand and swam to the other side.

The child's mother knelt on the ground, crying so hard she couldn't speak. Alex, soaked to the bone, just smiled and said, "It's alright," then wrung out the water from his cloak and continued on his way.

Days passed by like this.

He has traveled to many places and helped many people.

Every time he offered a helping hand, he remembered the old village chief's words and the dream he had spoken under that oak tree.

The phrase "Protect all those who are worth protecting" took root in his heart like a seed, sprouted, and grew bigger and bigger.

Later, he met the magician Mason and the dwarf warrior Bruno, and his strength continued to grow as he traveled around.

Finally, during a battle with a monster, his sword could no longer withstand the strain and broke.

"Bruno, do you think this sword can still be repaired..." Alex looked at his old comrade who had fought alongside him for many years with great heartache. The dwarves were skilled in forging, so they should be able to restore this sword.

"No!" Before the dwarf could respond, his mage teammate Mason spoke first, "Alex, your sword is so badly damaged, you might as well buy a new one."

"But……"

"No buts! When we pass through the Holy City later, I'll buy you some of the newest and best ones." Mason, who would have to return to the capital to inherit the merchant guild if he didn't work hard, ordered. "Of course, we can also go to the Holy Mountain first to see if you can draw the Holy Sword."

"Me? I'm just an ordinary person..."

"Hey, enough with the nonsense! Come on!"

So Alex was pushed by Mason to the top of the Holy Mountain.

It's no exaggeration to say that they were "pushed".

Mason grabbed his collar with one hand and held his staff with the other, looking like he was escorting a prisoner.

Alex's boots left two shallow marks on the gravel road as he muttered, "I think my swordsmanship can still be used after some repairs..."

"Fix my ass," Mason said without turning his head. "It's only because you're strong. An ordinary person holding that piece of junk probably couldn't even kill a chicken."

The wind was strong at the top of the holy mountain, making the gray cloak flutter loudly.

There were more people in line than I expected.

Ahead stood a burly adventurer, his arms thicker than Alex's thighs. He braced himself in a horse stance, gripped the hilt of the holy sword with both hands, let out a low roar, and the veins on his forehead bulged as if he could uproot the entire mountain.

The holy sword remained completely still.

The clergyman, expressionless, called out, "Next!"

The burly adventurer, panting heavily, stepped aside, his face as red as the fire in a blacksmith's furnace.

His companion patted him on the shoulder and whispered reassuringly, "It's alright. I heard that a dragon knight came last time and couldn't budge it."

Next was a little girl with pigtails, who was lifted up by her parents in front of the sword hilt.

She curiously touched the holy sword and asked in her childish voice, "Mommy, is this sword stuck too deep?"

The holy sword remained completely still.

Alex stood in the middle of the line, idly drawing circles with his toes.

He glanced back at Mason and lowered his voice, "I think it would be more practical for us to buy a new sword."

Mason rolled his eyes: "Since we're already here, let's give it a try."

"Next!"

It's Alex's turn.

He walked up to the holy sword and finally saw the legendary weapon clearly.

It looked brand new; the blade was embedded in the stone platform, with only the hilt and guard showing, engraved with ancient runes that were difficult to understand, faintly glowing.

"Just put your hand on it," the clergyman instructed routinely, his eyes already drifting towards the next person in line.

Alex did as instructed.

He simply gripped the hilt of the sword and lifted it gently.

The holy sword emitted a clear hum, as if an old friend who had been sleeping for many years had finally been awakened.

The sword slid effortlessly out of the stone platform, creating a whirlwind that sent Alex's hair and cloak flying backward.

Golden light flowed down from the sword's blade, illuminating the entire mountaintop and even tinging the clouds in the sky with a warm hue.

Everyone was stunned.

Alex was also stunned.

…………

"Hey, what are you daydreaming about?"

The voice of the Archmage Mason came from behind.

As planned, they had just carried out the decapitation strike on the vanguard general of the Demon King's army. They then mounted the demon horses outside the camp and galloped away without any hindrance.

There were enough horses, but Mason said she had suddenly twisted her ankle and wanted to ride the same horse as Alex.

Alex simply asked with concern if Anna needed to cast a spell to heal him first, but was met with opposition from the rest of the team.

It’s weird.

The hero shook his head and said:

"I'm thinking, if we defeat the Demon King and end the war, can I return the Holy Sword? I still want the sword I brought from the village."

"and then?"

"Then, like before drawing the holy sword, I went on adventures everywhere."

"I think you just want to help everyone you meet, don't you?"

"Hehe, more or less."

"Alright~" On horseback, Mason, who was holding his waist, leaned his head against him again. For some reason, Mason, who used to call him brother, was a little different today. "Count me in."

"Of course! We're best buddies! Wait, I'm riding a horse, why are you pinching me all of a sudden..."