Oliver bent down and picked up the gem above the powder. He clutched it tightly, as if to calm the burning pain.

Godwin's face was expressionless, he stared at Oliver - eyes green like dead leaves, hopelessly hoping that the other party would take back what he said. But Oliver just stood there, looking at him with the kind of eyes he didn't like the most. There was no hatred, contempt, pity, or schadenfreude on the pair of green eyes that were close to him. Oliver Ramon looked very calm, with a tinge of sad calm.

The gray fog gradually dissipated, the sun was streaming down the edge of the huge dragon breath stone ball, and the sky turned blue again.

"Countless men have challenged this sword." Godwin resisted the exhaustion and emptiness of the swarm, and stood precariously. "Countless people, countless strong people. It must have some undiscovered secrets, it can't be just like this..."

"Even if the whole world agrees, a lie is still a lie. As far as I know, my father at least personally beheaded an innocent man, the father of a little girl. I think he has Haven't forgotten about it, I've confirmed that remorse. If the content of the spell was correct, he couldn't have felt the pain."

"My father...my father never doubted the nobility of Flint Lopez. He was convinced that he was just being eroded, beaten, and left the world." Before that, Flint Lopez was an unblemished hero, no doubt about it."

There are heroes in this world, at least once. Warm, not confused, sun-like hero. Godwin was so convinced. They always have a smile on their face, rise up in the mud, never get frustrated or hesitate. Those legendary heroes struggled from the ashes and lived like a blaze.

Noble and pure.

But he is still troubled by the pain of unknown origin deep in his heart, he is not open-minded enough, he is not firm enough.

He's not good enough...good.

Flint Lopez is the closest legend to him. He had read Flint's letters to his father, and had heard his father describe everything Flint had done. The legend of the Tin Soldier spread all over the continent, and even if the brilliance was finally destroyed by reality and tainted by rumors, he believed, like his father, that Flint Lopez was a perfect hero.

But if what Oliver Ramon says is true. So was it the same sword that Flint was holding when he wrote those warm and happy letters home? Godwin suddenly wanted to laugh a little. He has done everything he can to become as good as Flint Lopez once was, or even better than Flint. But now it seems that his shadow, his signpost, may be a phantom that never existed.

"No flaws? No." Oliver shook his head decisively, "It's not what you said. My father drank too much and would bark at the neighbor's dog, throw dirty clothes everywhere, and keep accounts. In the middle of memorizing, he started to do the math, and he always forgot to return the books to the library on time. He also occasionally played cards in the tavern, or pretended to be a bard, and helped people to sing inappropriate love songs to girls, even Got a few footbaths splattered on this one. I'm more inclined to think he's… always been. If there's a flaw, I can list you a hundred. At least I don't think a blow would force him to the bard's stool Apply honey."

"He made a lot of mistakes, and when he did he would laugh embarrassedly. He was headstrong, rambling, and quick-tempered." Oliver pursed his lips. "...And cruel enough to have his son kill him himself, without even bothering to explain. This is the Flint Lopez I am familiar with, the owner of this sword."

Godwin was in a trance.

The wound caused by the battle just now was still bleeding, but he was unaware. For the first time, the head of Horizon forgot to straighten his back. He fell down like a collapse, half kneeling on the ground strewn with ashes.

"You don't understand. He has to be a hero. If he's not..." He inserted his holy sword Dawn into the cracked stone platform, supporting his weak body, his voice full of bitterness.

"Hey, Godwin." Oliver crouched down in front of his only remaining blood relatives, his voice very soft. "Why are you fighting?"

"In order to save the weak and protect mankind, isn't it obvious?"

"Do you like this?"

"It's not a matter of like or dislike, that's right. It's the duty of those who have power."

"What do you like?"

“…”

"I've been saved, by a lot of people. To be honest, in terms of 'power' they suck. But they did save me. So I sometimes think , maybe it's not about strength - they're my heroes, and I don't ignore that just because they're bad or weak. And they didn't just because they weren't strong enough... to sit on the sidelines at that point."

"So why is it 'obligation'? Isn't it very strange to ask others to sacrifice and sacrifice simply because of their kindness or strength? Understandable, but you're not like that."

"I don't think I've done anything wrong." Godwin gritted his teeth. "Even with innate strength, there is a corresponding responsibility. I must save those..."

"I respect your opinion," Oliver whispered, "but I personally think...it's not that complicated."

Oliver does understand what the other party thinks, and he thought the same way a long time ago. Naturally believe all the information given by the outside world, fit yourself into a powerful definition that exists, and think that is the truth of the world.

But unlike Godwin, who was fighting in the **** storm, at that time he was not as tall as a broom, and only beat away two little **** who lifted the little girl's skirt.

With his nose up, he charged towards the house with a branch, shouting "I am a righteous knight". After being blocked by his cabbage-washing father, young Oliver jabbed his father in the back with a stick.

"Oh." After listening to his son boast about his glorious deeds, his father just tossed the water and patted him on the head--a ​​compliment or a wipe in some way. action. "Good job."

"Righteous knight!" Oliver insisted.

"Why?" Flint raised his eyebrows.

"Because the strong I protected a weak princess from the mob, it was chivalry, everyone said so."

"If some unlucky kid got his pants ripped off, what are you going to call yourself, Ollie?" Flint looked at his son amusingly.

"Oh, then I have to see." Oliver didn't think much. "Men should stand up and resist, if the guy looks strong, I'm not going to help—"

"Well, if you switch places with this 'princess' today, it doesn't matter if she doesn't see it? Even if she could have helped you. Do you really think it's okay?"

“… uh.”

"I'll change the question again. If it wasn't you who passed by today, and the other boy didn't help the girl, would you think he was morally corrupt?"

“…of course!”

"Even if he is weak and thin, his fighting power is not as good as a girl?"

Oliver was silent as he was completely dizzy.

"So I told you to stay away from the bards, brat. Dad didn't say you did anything wrong, it was beautifully done. But compared to something like chivalry , I prefer you to understand the basics."

"What basics?"

"Gender, power, class aside." Flint continued to rub up the cabbage in the basin. "Don't think too much about it, if you just don't want to see 'compatriots in pain' then reach out. Of course, do what you can. Don't listen to those **** bragging about princess knights, messy fate. Hey, where are you looking, I knew you were eavesdropping again."

Oliver shrank his neck. "But don't everyone say that? Powerful people always want to, uh, hold up a world..."

"You listen to what others say? Wait until you understand the meaning of 'strong' before talking about it. Don't say 'can beat', or you will wash the rest of the cabbage."

"I don't understand."

"When you see others in pain, do you want to help yourself?"

"Hmm."

"Then remember that mood. Don't think about 'how others think it should be' 'how others define this behavior', it's easy to focus on useless information. Remember this The feeling of 'wanting to help' is enough."

"But it has to have a name, I mean, it has to be some kind of spirit..."

"My words only represent my own understanding." The memory's father pondered for a few seconds and smiled. "The rules are set by others, not your heart. Compared to a knight who sticks to some 'rules of justice'—"

"I would prefer you to be a 'gentle' person, son."

And Emmanuel Lopez took those principles and bound his own son into a cocoon.

Those "choices" that were supposed to give kindness and warmth were twisted into obligations. Godwin had been chasing after these, a perfect man who could not exist among humans. Someday, long in the future, Godwin may also be remembered as a perfect hero, no one will know the pain and emptiness of his eyes.

"Yes, I don't think it's that complicated." Oliver repeated, looking firmly into the other's eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just thought... Although it's good to demand more of yourself, but how do you put it, maybe you're a little too demanding of yourself. Look, what's going on with Dad, I think It's okay if you relax."

"You could have done nothing, and that's not a sin, at least I think so. And you've come out to help, and that's great. Although I still don't agree with you Style of doing things, but one size fits all.”

Godwin looked increasingly lost—the sun was sinking below the horizon, and sun chasers had nowhere to go.

"I don't want to tell you what's right, I'm not qualified to teach you." Oliver lowered his eyes, "If you want to save everything, how about saving yourself first? You look... It's very painful. If you feel that you are powerful and responsible, then you can hate me before you hate yourself. It's true that I have more power than you, but I'm not going to take those 'responsibility'."

"You..."

"I'm a weak and selfish guy who doesn't think about what the world is like - if you see someone who can help, help, and that's enough."

Godwin stood up, still questioning and dissatisfied. Oliver also stood up and patted the armor on his body uncomfortably. He tried to give him a hug, only to give up before Godwin's icy air emanated from him.

"Oh, I have one more word." Oliver said suddenly before turning around and stepping towards his companion. "You've done a great job, Godwin. Better than anyone I've ever met."

Godwin sighed and smiled slowly—a bitter, sad but gentle smile.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Although raw and reluctant, Oliver was familiar with that smile. He had seen it many times in his father's face.

Maybe Godwin was closer to Flint Lopez than he thought.

"I have one more thing to say." Godwin retracted his sword from its scabbard, "...what's the matter with you and Nemo Wright?"

Oliver's emotion vanished in an instant—

The head of the tumbleweed raised his foot and ran away.