Red was everywhere. The flowers are red. The floor is red. I am red. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were meant to be the heroes. Every struggle, every fight, every single day of suffering were all meant to lead to the final battle where the Evil Demon Lord was killed, and peace was brought about again. But now, everything is red.

Soffie, skin like porcelain. She dreamed of opening a flower shop but became a cleric to protect her friends. She was the first to join the Party. She found me in the woods, a demon chasing me down. She saved my life. When it turned out I was the one to pull the sword out of the stone, she was the first to bend her knee and vow to follow me to the ends of the earth. She was always the first to speak her mind, to tell me how it was. She was the first woman I ever loved. She was the first to die, having her heart ripped out of her chest.

Mark. The son of a noble. He was raised to be special. But when his magic didn't manifest, he was set aside for his younger brother. He always had to work the hardest. He was the one to train me to use the sword. He was the one to teach me magic, even if he couldn't use it. He was the one to always put me back on the path of a Hero when I strayed. He was a mentor and my best friend. He was decapitated pushing me out of the way when I was too slow.

Lilly. She had a personality as bright as her fire magic. She shone as brightly as the magic in her hands. Outspoken and quick-witted, she always had a better plan. She was the one to read the runes on my sword that let it unlock its true potential. She was the one to get us out of trouble when we got too deep. She was the safety net when everything went wrong. She died by having her mana burn her from the inside out.

Kirin. He was the last to join us, but no less important. He was a silent watcher, following us like a shadow. He found threats that we would never have seen coming, and eliminated them before we even noticed. He never talked about himself, but was always eager to listen. He was the calm before the storm. He died in a last-ditch effort to kill the Demon Lord, loading his very soul into an arrow that was merely swatted away like a fly.

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Then there is me. A nobody. A guy who got lucky and pulled a sword from a stone. I was no one before the sword. No one ever saw me. They only saw the sword. Even my companions. They saw the sword first, me second. I am just a farmer's son. I till the soil and earn honest coin for honest work. Then the demons came and took everything away.

I tried being a Knight at first. It didn't work. I was hopeless at following the code of chivalry. Too many rules and too much old tradition. I then tried to be a hero. But I couldn't save everyone. I kept rushing in without thinking, just trying to save lives only to end up costing more. I then tried to be a strategist, but over-thinking things led to inaction, which lead to the death of more and more people. Now, I'm going to try being myself.

I am tired. So very tired. But, like any farmer, you have to keep working, even when the sun goes down, or else it will never get done.

So I dug the sword into the ground and lifted myself up. The Demon Lord laughed. He thought I was on the verge of dying. He was right. Obviously he hasn't met many farmers. We keep working until we collapse. After all, if we don't till the land, who will? Who will pluck the weeds so that the young, defenseless crops will grow? Who will scare off the wolves to protect the flock if not the farmer? 

I rose the sword. That darned sword that I could never get to work quite right. I charged. It wasn't anything fancy. There was no glow, no wings suddenly sprouting from my back and angels singing. It was just me, the sword, my dead friends, and the bastard that did it all.

Our blades met. I felt his all empowering strength overwhelm me. Yet I endured. With Soffie's courage, Mark's conviction, Lilly's determination, and Kirin's strength, I endured. That's when I felt it. The runes on the sword lit up. They were dim, but it was enough. I stood tall like an ancient oak tree. Protecting those under my branches. My strike was wild, but it was enough.

When the Demon Lord fell to the ground, dead, I wasn't entirely sure what had happened. I was only a farmer. The son of a farmer who was the son of a farmer who was the son of a farmer. I wasn't anyone special. Yet, with my dying breath, I had prepared the land for those who come after. Long may they till the soil in peace. 

- The last moments of The Unnamed Hero. A farmer who merely did his duty.