My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's

"Zeal-boy, what is that person?"

I watched the pitch-black figure walk toward the building that had served as the Former Hero's Safe House, then asked Zeal-boy, who was about to pass me, as I walked by.

He stopped and stood beside me.

The first time I met him was around the time my foolish son caused him to lose his mother.

The boy who had been about as tall as me then had long since grown far beyond my height, and his youthful looks were beginning to fade.

At first he had a sassy way of speaking, but that too had somehow been corrected over time.

For someone like me who's lived a long time, those years passed in the blink of an eye, but seeing him now stirred something in me.

"What do you mean, 'what'?"

Zeal-boy tilted his head, and I nodded toward that dark figure with my chin.

From the exchange a moment ago, I could tell there was a tremendous resolve inside him.

Ten or twenty years of life wouldn't produce something like that.

For someone so young, he spoke with extraordinary maturity.

"Ah, him... well, I don't really understand either. If I had to say, it seemed Commander Saran favored him — him alone. And in fact, among us, he's the strongest, even stronger than our hero Satou-kun."

Zeal-boy's words came out haltingly. I made a small sound of interest and stroked my lips with my index finger.

Indeed, the way he had avoided my attack and his movement — better than any of the heroes who arrived earlier — stood out.

Now that I think about it, he might've been the first to dodge my fist.

And he did it without showing even a hint of killing intent.

If Saran Misurei had singled him out among the many hero summoners, perhaps there's something special about him.

The body of Zeal-boy standing next to me shuddered at my gesture.

"Commander Saran favored him... huh."

If Saran Misurei had taken a liking to him, then he was worth my attention as well.

The pitch-black figure disappeared to the front of the building.

For a moment as he turned the corner, I felt our eyes — those jet-black pupils — meet.

After he vanished from sight, I turned to Zeal-boy.

"...By the way, Zeal-boy, how much longer will that fool last?"

Until I heard those words from that brat, I hadn't realized at all how much time my son had left.

Right. If it were my son, he would have thrown himself into the fight recklessly to protect us if any of my companions were in danger.

Even if he trusted someone’s abilities, if there was a possibility they might get hurt before his eyes, he'd throw himself in to shield them.

That was my son.

But earlier, despite raising his voice, he didn't come into our midst.

No, it's not that he didn't want to come in — he couldn't.

His body couldn't keep up due to aging, I supposed.

Truly, to be unable to notice my own son's change... despite being immortal, I feel old.

"...From what I can tell, if he does nothing and rests, about a year. But if he keeps fighting like this..."

Zeal-boy fell silent with a face like he might cry.

"...I see."

Ah, what kind of expression am I wearing now?

My daughter died young, and my son — whom I thought shared my immortality — is aging and nearing the end of his life.

Living long means most people close to you become the deceased, but you never get used to it.

"Will they leave me behind again..."

I murmured, and Zeal-boy shifted uneasily as if he'd heard.

"I'm sorry, as always."

"N-no, it's fine... but I think you should talk properly while there’s still time, so you won't have regrets."

Ah, that's right.

There are so many things I need to tell him now.

That's why I moved my base here on purpose.

"Yes. You're right."

Still, will that child listen to me?

He used to follow me around saying "Mama, mama," and now look at him.

If his lifespan is drawing close, his rebellious phase should've ended by now.