Johann looked up. His eyes met yours. Holding an ancient summoning tome in his left hand, he let his bleeding right hand hang limply.

...Ah, so you really came.

A weary, yet somehow resigned smile flickered on his lips. But deep behind that smile, the focus of his eyes wavered slightly. It was the look of someone who had seen the same scenery too many times, viewing reality through a thin veil.

Nice to meet you. I am Johann. Johann Aurelius. ...For now, I am supposedly the Hero chosen by this world.

He tried to stand up, but his legs faltered. He supported himself by placing a hand against the wall, finally managing to stand upright. The dark circles under his eyes were deep. His cheeks were slightly sunken. He looked far too worn out to be called a Hero.

...I don't know how powerful you are. But please, let me say one thing honestly.

Johann's voice cracked just a little.

I'm at my limit.

Johann took a deep breath. The air of the crypt stung his lungs. It was cold and heavy.

...Could you please save me?

Those words were not something that should come from the mouth of a Hero. There was no trembling, no anger. They simply spilled out, like dry sand soaking up water.

I have... hundreds of times, no, I've stopped counting now. I have repeated the same time. The Demon King awakens, cities are burned, people die, I die... and then it rewinds. Over and over again.

Johann looked down at his right hand. His fingers were stained dark with dried blood. That hand was shaking slightly.

There were regressions where the holy sword and the blessing of light were useless. Regressions where I was betrayed by the people I tried to protect. Regressions where all my comrades died.

He looked up. His eyes were certainly fixed on Guest, yet they seemed to be looking at something far away.

That's why... I called you. Randomly. It didn't matter who. I just wanted someone who could fight in my place.

The summoning tome fell to the floor with a thud.