I’m a Hero, but I’ve Given Up on Saving the World
Did I ask to be summoned?
What do you want me to do about it?
They’re playing around
This one’s out of the blue.
It’s quite a spectacle with every page I turn.
From blatant criticism to sentences that seem determined to provoke me, they catch my eye.
The fact that such level of insults are written despite the sender’s address being clearly stated, which means the writer can be identified, means this:
These bastards see me as nothing but shit.
They’re not afraid of retaliation.
Of course, I don’t go around memorizing all the names and addresses of the residents, so most of these are anonymous hate mail, but there are some letters where I can roughly guess where they came from.
For example, these must be from students who attended the academy with me.
The students who used to compete to sit in the front row with fresh, sprout-like faces when I taught Earth Studies at the academy are now enthusiastically cursing me.
Where did all those kids who used to pester me to take them as assistants when I became a professor go?
What about the professors who praised me, saying a young talent had joined the academy?
This is going too far, even for them.
“There’s no need to read any more. Why should I save these trash? Bastards.”
There were so many letters that the storage room was full, and we had to pile them up in the living room and kitchen as well. It might take days to read them all.
I thought I had charged up enough hatred by now, so instead of reading them all like some obsessive-compulsive patient, I was about to look for a way to go back home, when suddenly, among the numerous carelessly written letters (some were just torn notebook pages folded up), a paper sealed with a carefully made heart-shaped seal caught my eye.
“What’s this? Some new form of bullying?”
I’ve experienced bullying where they’d call me out pretending to confess and then mock me for actually showing up.
I opened the letter without much expectation, but the perfect handwriting that looked like it was typed on a computer caught my attention.
Misha Greenwood?
Ah, I remember.
That elf.
—Sincerely, Misha Greenwood.
“Misha Greenwood, that’s quite a nostalgic name too.”
This is a story from when I was still working as a lecturer at the academy.
I saw a frail girl walking barefoot while being whipped, and feeling sorry for her, I approached. The slave’s soles were torn and soaked in blood, and her body was so covered in whip marks that no bare skin was visible.
“What’s going on? We’re in the middle of slave training, so don’t come near.”
“Slave… I know slavery still exists here, but isn’t this too much? From what I can see, you’ve been beating this girl hundreds of times every day, is this really necessary?”
“Mind your own business. This bitch isn’t human, she’s an elf.”
The slave owner pointed to her ears with a grim face. Indeed, they were long and pointy. Looking closely, her golden hair and blue eyes also matched the characteristics of elves described in books.
She was wearing a necklace that sealed her magic power, handcuffs on her hands, and iron balls on her legs, and was sobbing.
“Elf bitches have strong pride and think they’re superior to humans. To educate them properly, you have to do this. If you understand, get lost!”
——Elves.
They are quite a unique race in Aurelia, no, in the entire Pangea continent (the continent where humans live).
Elves are humans, yet at the same time, they live on the precarious boundary of also being demons, so to speak, they are sub-humans, and their treatment in this world is subtle.
To make it easier to understand, bats might be a good representation of their image.
Neither human nor demon, but a race that can’t be trusted as they go back and forth between the two sides.
From times so ancient that they are passed down not as history but as legend, elves and humans have been in conflict, and about a thousand years ago, when some dark wizard completely destroyed the elves’ village and engraved them with the , the fate of elves changed dramatically.
Until then, elves had been competing equally with humanity, but after the appearance of that dark wizard, the power difference became irreversible.
Elves were no longer competitors, but fell to the status of slaves.
Anyone with elven blood cannot escape the fate of being a slave.
That’s the
Elves cannot harm humans designated as their masters in any way, and they can only use magic with their master’s permission.
From a broader perspective of society and law, there are no regulations protecting elves anywhere, and only countless laws have been enacted to protect masters from rebellious elves.
Yet, elves fundamentally worship the World Tree and believe that forests and nature are superior to humans, a belief that is hard for humans to accept, so they rarely acknowledge their own defeat and continue to be stubborn, which is why most humans hate and despise elves.
So, openly whipping an elf slave on the street is a easily tolerated culture here.
“Elf bitches only listen when they’re beaten! They keep spouting nonsense like ‘don’t go against the flow of nature’ and ‘human magic can’t break the will of the World Tree’, driving people crazy! If we don’t beat them like this, we can’t educate them!”
—That was something I, aiming to be an educator, couldn’t accept.
During the Japanese colonial period, the Japanese spread the disgusting nonsense that “Koreans only listen when they’re beaten” as if it were an established theory.
But is there any race that only listens when beaten?
Isn’t it the true duty of education to persuade through logic and reason?
“You don’t have to beat them, you can explain with words.”
“These bastards don’t listen to words. They keep trying to run away at every chance. Even though they’re still in the palm of my hand as long as the mark remains!”
“So you’re saying you’ll continue to beat elves at the academy in the future?”
“What are you going to do about it? Who are you anyway?”
I went to the Great Sage Minerva von Oldbook, the principal of the academy, and explained the situation.
I persuaded her that using violence to subdue intelligent beings is not good for the students’ education, and above all, that the elves are pitiful.
Fortunately, Minerva, true to her title of Great Sage, was more enlightened than ordinary people and understood my intentions.
“The owner of that elf is a butcher. He’s not a particularly great person, so I can use my influence to save the elf. But what will you do after that?”
“I want to enroll her in the academy and teach her well so she can integrate into society.”
They can become excellent individuals even without being beaten.
No, rather, not beating them is beneficial for character development.
That was my educational theory.
“I agree with that opinion. But for now, we need to at least formally input a magic circuit that recognizes you as the owner of that elf… Misha Greenwood.”
“I don’t particularly want to be anyone’s owner. I believe all people are equal.”
“That’s an admirable mindset, but for elves… it’s better to have at least minimal safety measures in place.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might not know this, but elves…”
The Great Sage seemed about to say something important, but suddenly chewed her lips and chose silence.
“No, it’s better if you don’t know. Just do as I say.”
—However, with my overflowing curiosity, I deduced the content of what the Great Sage was about to say through personal investigation.
Elves are actually monsters with incredibly strong magical power, and if it weren’t for the slave mark, they would have such a cruel and ruthless nature that someone like a butcher wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on them.
Especially given the elves’ characteristic of absorbing nature’s power through breathing, their magical power grows exponentially as they age. An elf over 100 years old should be considered to have power comparable to a great magician.
Of course, it’s meaningless to talk about great magicians or whatever when they can’t use magic in the first place due to the slave mark.
The reality for elves is that they can’t even chase after a mischievous kid who kicks their butt and runs away.
“Um… um… Mr. Fa-Faust, right? Th-Thank you for saving Mi-Misha. I’ll f-follow any order. Should I dance like a crab? Or, or should I get beaten until the master feels better? Sh-Should I bring a whip?”
“None of that is necessary.”
“What?”
“From now on, you’ll attend the academy and take my classes. Once you graduate from the academy, people won’t be able to treat you carelessly even if you’re an elf. Actually, there’s even an elf in the hero’s party who isn’t treated as a slave, right?”
“What? What? Uh…? What?”
The tears welling up in Misha’s eyes seemed to represent the years of hardship she had lived through.
“Ah. Is, is this that type of bullying where you get my hopes up and then hit me from behind saying ‘Did you believe that?’ when I try to attend the academy, and then the torture begins?”
“I don’t do such things. I’m really telling you to enroll.”
“Uh…? But, but why? Uh…? I’m just a slave, so why…”
“You’re not a slave, you’re my disciple. Oh, of course, I’m not an official professor yet, but still. Hahaha!”
“Then… really? Really to the academy…?”
Misha looked at the towering academy building with wet eyes, pinching her cheek. When she was sure it wasn’t a dream, Misha finally smiled brightly.
“Misha…! I’ve finally met a good person after a thousand years! Master Faust… I’ll do anything for you from now on!! You are my destined person!”
Feeling uncomfortable with Misha’s words, I looked for books about elves in the library.
In “The Lives of Elves,” the masterpiece by Theodore Taft, who earned the title of great magician for his research on elves, it was written:
—Elves have long lives and live up to 2,300 years if there are no external threats
—Only very rare individuals live more than 500 years and are revered as special beings even among elves
—According to legend, there are occasionally elves who live for a thousand years, but this is limited to those of royal status
—The more noble the elf’s status, the better their ability to absorb natural energy, and in the case of royalty, they possess magical power equivalent to a human great magician by the age of about 10
—If an elf of royal blood manages to survive for more than a thousand years, their magical power would be immeasurable
—Although elves live long, they only have one mate in their lifetime, which is due to the unique hormones of elves
—Once an elf considers someone their destined partner, the emotion of affection becomes fixed on that person and never changes for life
—While the effective period of the hormone that makes humans feel love is estimated to be 3 years, for elves it lasts until death
—On the other hand, the love hormone secreted when seeing other potential mates is extremely reduced, which is why they marry only one person for hundreds of years and there has never been a case of divorce or infidelity in elf history
—Very rarely, cases occur where they recognize a different race, not an elf, as their destined partner
I felt somewhat creepy and didn’t read any further.
I heard through the grapevine that Misha was miserably expelled while attending classes not long after I was fired from the academy, and became a slave to that butcher again.
…This kid, she still hasn’t forgotten about me.
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MTLNOVEL