A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

Levy sniffed Bray's scent intently, like a little dog.

It smelled like broil, despite the presence of dust and blood.

But that familiar taste is something Levy will never forget, even after thousands of years.

"Levy is scared too," Levy said softly.

Although she didn't cry, how could she not be afraid?

She was just a little girl, not a strong warrior.

Faced with unknown changes in the world and the possibility of death, even the little police lion couldn't help but be afraid.

However, she did not cry, because she knew that Bray was there, and as long as she thought of Bray when she was afraid, she would not be so afraid.

Bray always keeps his promises, and this time is no exception.

See? That's why Levy trusts Bray and believes everything he says, because he has never lied to Levy.

"Bray, Bray, are we leaving again?" Levy asked, wrapping her tail around Bray.

Bray is very busy, and I often can't help him.

Leigh still wanted to stay with Bray forever, even though she knew it was a selfish idea.

“I think we don’t need to.” Bray ruffled Levy’s hair.

Levy smiled adorably as her hair was ruffled, turning into a cute little ball.

"really?"

“Really,” Bray said softly, as if coaxing a child.

"Really, really?" Levy nuzzled against Bray and asked in a familiar tone.

"really."

"Really, really, really?"

"Really, really, really."

"Hmm~" Finally, Levy showed her usual cute expression 0V0.

"But why doesn't Bray have to walk anymore?"

Despite receiving Bray's promise, Levy still had some doubts.

She absolutely believed in Bray, but how could he, who was always on the go, suddenly not have to travel anymore?

“Because they don’t need me anymore,” Bray said quietly.

After he finished speaking, he looked up at the night sky.

The unpolluted night sky, though less dazzling, possessed a greater sense of tranquility.

Bray's gaze was deep, as if he were looking at the night sky, yet also as if he were looking at something much more distant.

That was a place so far away that it transcended all boundaries, so far away that it was beyond human reach.

However... for Yubré, his whole world consisted of the two little girls in his arms.

“I’m thinking that in two years Naruko will be able to sleep peacefully,” Bree said.

"What do you say?"

“Hmm~ If Bray says two years, then it must be two years,” Levy said, wagging her tail.

"Mom..." Upon hearing the name Naruko, the sleeping Nia mumbled "Mom."

“Yes, it definitely can,” Bray said.

He was not a hero... nor did he expect to be a savior.

From this moment on, from this second onward, the story is no longer about Bray.

Bray wouldn't care who the hero would be in people's stories afterward.

He simply tried to give people hope.

He was just one of many people striving to grasp at hope.

That's all. There was a rebuilt empire called "Van Carrel".

There is a town in this empire called Newham, which was also rebuilt.

That's right, the cities of the lower species have been rebuilt.

The gods have "seen" mortals.

When the first mortals with abilities appeared, the gods realized that the scales were no longer tipping in their favor.

A capable mortal is not worth mentioning.

However, the number of mortals is so large that it is not an exaggeration to describe it as massive.

When the number of mortals with abilities reached a certain level, the gods had to admit that this was a threat.

They have two perspectives on threats.

One option is to stifle it; the other is to negotiate.

Originally, the voices that threatened to be silenced were the loudest, but for some reason, the voices of the "threatening" side gradually faded away.

Why? Because heroes emerged one after another from among the lower species.

They led the people in rebellion, forcing the Golden Seeds to confront their own nature.

Admittedly, the golden race is incredibly powerful, and lower-level races have little chance of defeating them.

But if one isn't enough, then a hundred, ten thousand.

This may be the biggest advantage of "ants".

Even gods have to back down, after all, they no longer "represent" the world.

Such unity among inferior beings is a sword that can pierce even a god.

When everyone dedicates themselves to the future, God remains silent.

People got the result they wanted—the gods stopped attacking lower species.

God still exists in Capras, and man still exists in Capras.

The whole world has changed its landscape.

It's neither good nor bad.

It's much better than the end of the world.

People abandoned the terms "iron," "bronze," "silver," and "gold."

There are only mortals and gods, a group of hardworking mortals and a group of gods who are not untouchable.

Therefore, people called this the beginning of the Fourth Age, a completely new era.

Countless people who once lived in the Third Age have now entered an unfamiliar age.

People who spanned eras included Blakelas.

He was in a cemetery in Newham at the time.

With his gray hair, he squatted in front of a grave and muttered something to himself.

Bray would visit the grave every now and then, not frequently, but he would eventually come.

The tombstone bears the name Yunming.

Time flies, and thirty years have passed in the blink of an eye.

The number thirty became something that Bray became very sensitive to from a certain day onwards.

Bree, who is over sixty, does indeed look more like an old man.

There's nothing sharp about him, but...maybe that's just an illusion.

Because of the battles he fought in his youth, Bray harbored many ills.

The best healer in the world, whom I considered to be, passed away thirty years ago.

The priest who had saved him countless times, yet he himself was unable to save him.

There are just too many regrettable things to mention.

But life is full of regrets, and remorse is useless.

The morning light found its way onto Bray's black and white hair.

The chirping of birds in the background is so pleasant and melodious that I never get tired of it, no matter how many times I listen to it.

Bray stood up and stretched his slightly sore bones.

He was injured before, enough to kill him hundreds of times over.

The priest had repeatedly warned himself not to do that, otherwise it would leave hidden injuries.

Sure enough, Bray, having overdrawn his resources, suffered the consequences in his old age.

Bray could no longer even carry the "Black Keys" on his back; the only thing he carried with him was a longsword called "Echoes of the Past."

"I hope we won't have to buy crutches later on," Bray said helplessly.

His voice carried the marks of time, and his right eye remained as lifeless as ever.

I guess I'll never be able to get rid of that dead fish eye look.

"—Idiot Master, why do you need a cane? Aren't I nice enough?" the girl in the longsword said coquettishly.

"Whether it smells good or not... isn't it strange to use a sword as a walking stick?" Bray said, as if coaxing a daughter.

The literary-minded girl has become increasingly fond of acting cute and coquettish over the years.

But it's fine. Anyway, it's been a long time since she fought, and she doesn't need to fight anymore. It's good for her to be a girl in peace.

As for why Bray doesn't fight, it's simply because he's too lazy to go.

It's not due to poor health or anything like that, it's just that I'm feeling down.

"So, what are your plans for the future?" Bray rubbed his chin, then picked up some pink flowers from nearby and placed them in front of the grave.

"I have no plans, I just want to continue quietly."

"Anyway, I feel like I'll break down in a few decades."

"Decades."

"That's right, I've lived longer than you, my useless Master."

“Yes, indeed.” Bray nodded, “It’s not wrong to say it is a ‘last hurrah’.”

Bray will at most live to be a hundred years old, and that's an optimistic scenario.

And the "swan song" will not last forever, because it was made by a ring.

The ring has long lost its original meaning to the will of the world, which means that the sword is not indispensable.

Natural damage is almost inevitable, and given that she was already damaged, the damage won't take long.

"When the time comes, I'll be by your side, and then I'll take a long nap."

"You've worked hard," Bray said softly, patting the sword.

"I've been working hard for more than just a day or two. That chuunibyou brat is the one you should be more concerned about." The girl's tone made one think of her shrug.

"He shamelessly claimed that he would fight for another thousand years, and he was quite dissatisfied that you didn't use him in the battle."

"Looks like we should find him a new job," Bray sighed.

However, it's really not easy for weapons in the world of mental images to find a new owner; it all depends on fate.

At that time, he inherited "Beers", a thousand years after the last user.

Why can't we just pick anyone?

“But there’s no rush for things like this.” Bray gave up thinking about it.

"I need to go back to the restaurant now." Bray glanced at his watch and realized it was already time for his restaurant to open.

He walked slowly, pausing occasionally because his feet were a little uncomfortable.