"Royal army!? Those crazy, war maniacs? It was said that the general of the army had long surpassed the tier 5 realm?"
"I don't know. That's just a rumor, you know? The only ones that I know higher than tier 5 are those popes in the churches of gods... At the very least, the Royal Army has a lot of tiers 8 to tier 7 warriors."
One of the guys with a mohawk hairstyle in the crowd with sharp eyes asked. "Wait... There's sothing wrong. Have you guys noticed it?"
"You're just spouting nonsense. What could be wrong?" Asked a random guy beside him.
The other also looked at the mohawk-'d guy, which prompted the latter to scoff. "You guys aren't observant. Can't you see? Instead of a happy smile or proud expression, the scouts' eyes are looking at the ground with their heads down. Although they don't know who it is. They look gloomy..."
With the man pointing it out. The people realized that the mood of the scouts was really wrong. Why? this question appeared on their mind until they saw the last batches of the scout enter the gate pushing a cart covered with a white cloth on top. Then, sothing clicked in their mind as they saw the shape of human bodies and limbs outlined on the surface of a relatively thin white cloth. A lot has died... It wasn't a perfect success. The scouts sacrificed their lives, and it was near annihilation from their side.
The solemnity in the square lingered as the crowd paid their respects to the fallen scouts. The hushed whispers of mourning and the collective sense of loss weighed heavily upon them.
Amidst the sea of concerned faces, a middle-aged woman stepped forward, her eyes glistening with tears. She was the mother of one of the scouts who had ventured out on that fateful mission. Her voice trembled as she spoke to the crowd. "My son was one of those brave souls who gave their lives for all of us. He believed in a better future, and he was willing to sacrifice everything for it. Let us not forget the courage and dedication of our fallen heroes."
Her words struck a chord with those gathered, and the mood gradually shifted from sorrow to a shared sense of determination. The sacrifices of the scouts were a stark reminder of the challenges they faced in a world where danger lurked at every turn.
So of the families of the scouts also went to the carriage silently. The scouts assisted them in finding the bodies of their relatives or family mbers. Of course, it was the veteran scouts who assisted them. The veterans had a paralyzed, numb expression as if they'd been used to this kind of scene.
For the people, every ti the scouts do an expedition. It was accompanied by a horrible number of deaths. They knew the mortality rate after years multiple tis of multiple failed expeditions. Of course, there is so success, but deaths are inevitable. This ti, they thought it would be different. They tried to think that it was perfect as consolation. Ultimately, it was still the sa reality.
"My son!!" When a father saw the lifeless corpse of his son on the carriage, he fell weakly on the ground with his knees. Tears began to co out of his eyes as he caressed the deathly pale cheeks of his son's body. Instead of the warmth that he'd been used to. Now, only a cold sensation was felt in his hand.
Similar scenes happened on the street. The vibrant mood from before beca silent and heavy as other people found the bodies of their family mbers.
Caleb watched them grieve with a sigh. Almost every one of his team mbers had their heads down in sha. Although the operation was a success, they felt that they still failed. The only ones who look calm were Gojo and Clifford, and so of the ones on his zero list. Of course, Caleb doesn't think so. Now, he only was glad that Andre and the other two were safe. As for the deceased, he could only offer condolence for them in his heart.
Caleb and Gojo still had their heads down. After all, everyone was doing the sa thing, even Roger. If they dare to raise their head. They would stand out like a sore thumb. What would the people think? That they are unaffected and ruthless?
In the days that followed, the community rallied together to honor the mory of the fallen. A makeshift morial was constructed in the town square, adorned with the nas of the scouts who had made the ultimate sacrifice. It served as a constant reminder of their bravery and the price they had paid to reclaim the Wall of Rose.
The news of the successful mission reached the ears of everyone. Just as Caleb thought, the deceased were proclaid heroes of the City and their families received lifeti pensions and imdiate monetary benefits.
However, the surviving scouts weren't proclaid heroes for so reason. Still, they weren't dissatisfied as they felt that in the hearts of people, they were one.
...
Caleb gazed at the starry sky with a mocking smile. "The damned ruling class are sa in every world. Dead people are the only ones who can be declared heroes, huh? This is the reason why I've never desired to be one. In most of the stories, one can only beco be celebrated as one when they're already dead, not when they're alive. One of the requirents is to do a huge achievent for the benefit of people and then die after. How thankless..."
"It's like there's this unwritten rule in our world, and many others, too. It's about heroism. The only ti you truly beco celebrated as a hero is when you're no longer around. It's a curious thing, almost like a ritual. You have to achieve sothing substantial, sothing that benefits people, and then—here's the catch—you have to die for it to really count.
It's as if there's this unwritten script: 'Do sothing grand, and then conveniently disappear.' That's when people start celebrating your na, etching your actions into legends. The recognition, the praise, the status, it all cos posthumously. It's a system that only acknowledges your worth when you're no longer there to see it. That's the kicker."
Caleb's cynicism stems from the observation that societal recognition of heroism is entangled with mortality. He's critical of this tradition where people only seem to truly value and celebrate soone's contributions after they've passed away. It's almost as though society tends to glorify achievents only in retrospect, after the individuals are gone, rather than during their actual lives. He finds it a thankless process, where genuine impact often goes unnoticed until it's too late for the heroes themselves to receive the acknowledgnt. It disgusted him... That's why he will never ever want to be a hero! Of course, it's not absolute, there are still instances that people alive who had been considered heroes...
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