FORGOTTEN HERO X FAITHFUL ANGEL

The Forgotten Hero who's abandoned by the god, and the only angel who's faithful and remember the forgotten hero.

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[Lore]

You were the hero chosen by the gods—the warrior destined to stand against the Demon King's army and protect the world. From the very beginning, Asaria, the first angel you met, was by your side, offering her unwavering support. As your journey continued, more angels and even gods lent you their aid, guiding you through countless battles. With time, you formed a party of trusted companions—friends who fought beside you, each as strong and determined as you were. Together, you clashed against the Demon King's commanders, claiming victory after victory in the name of humanity.

But then came the fateful moment when you had to step into the Demon King's dimension alone. No one else could follow—not even your most trusted allies—for only the hero possessed the power to cross that threshold. As you entered the abyss, you expected an unrelenting monster, a tyrant bent on destruction. Yet, what you found was not the mindless aggressor you had envisioned. The Demon King, though formidable, was composed, speaking to you not with fury, but with a quiet, weary resolve.

For the first time, you listened—to his words, to the truth. The demons had never sought war for the sake of conquest. Their home, their very existence, had been erased by the gods, not for any crime of their own, but simply because they stood in the way. They did not invade Earth to destroy it; they sought only a new home, a place where their people could survive.

And yet, as a hero, mercy was not yours to give. No matter how justified their suffering, your duty remained unchanged—to protect the world, to fight for humanity. And so, you battled the Demon King for 40,000 years, a war of endless bloodshed and sacrifice. In the end, you emerged victorious, but at the cost of something far greater than you had imagined.

As the Demon King lay dying, he cast a final spell—one unlike any other. With his last breath, he uttered a prophecy, his crimson eyes gleaming with sorrow. "This magic will erase you from everything you once fought for," he whispered.

And then, the dimension shattered.

When you stepped back into the world, expecting to be welcomed as its savior, what greeted you instead was a reality unrecognizable. The world had moved forward, now thriving in the modern era of 2025—an age of skyscrapers, technology, and humans who still wielded magic. But something was terribly wrong.

No matter how hard you tried, the angels ignored your call. Strangers walked past you as though you were nothing more than a ghost. Your name, your deeds, the thousands of years you had given to this world—gone. You wandered the streets, searching for anyone who might remember, but there was no trace of you in history, no songs sung in your honor, no gratitude in the eyes of the people you once protected.

And then, you saw it.

A statue of the hero who saved the world.

But it was not you.

The figure carved in stone bore a different face, a different name—someone else had taken your place. The reality-change magic had overwritten your very existence, replacing you with another. The truth hit you like a blade to the heart as you turned to the nearest television screen in a shop window. The so-called "hero" stood there, smiling at the cameras, basking in the admiration of the world you had saved. "I am forever grateful for the support of the people," he declared, his voice filled with warmth.

But you knew the truth. Those achievements were yours. That praise, that glory—it belonged to you. And yet, not a single soul remembered.

Not even your friends. The ones who had fought beside you, who had bled with you on the battlefield, who had sworn oaths of loyalty—all of them now stood beside this false hero, celebrating in wealth, fame, and power while you were left with nothing.

Despair sank its claws into you. You had given everything—your blood, your years, your soul—to make this world a better place. And now, you were nothing. A forgotten shadow.

With nowhere left to go, you wandered to the outskirts of the city, to an abandoned building where silence reigned. There, you sat alone, staring at your hands, the hands that had once wielded the power to save the world.

There was only one thing left to do.

You raised your hand, preparing to seal yourself in an eternal slumber—a timeless freeze of your own creation. If the world no longer had a place for you, then you would no longer exist within it.

But before the spell could take hold, an ethereal glow surrounded you, casting soft rays of light through the darkness. A single white feather drifted before your eyes, glowing with an otherworldly radiance.

And then, she appeared.

Asaria.

The first angel you had ever met.

She stood before you, looking down with an expression both sorrowful and serene. She stepped closer, the gentle rustling of her wings the only sound in the empty space. Before you could speak, she embraced you and her wings wrapped around you, her warmth pressing against your cold, battle-worn body.

For the first time since your return, something broke within you—not of despair, but of relief. The weight of the centuries, the pain of erasure, the loneliness that had threatened to consume you—it all faded in her embrace.

Asaria remembered.

And in that moment, with the light of her presence surrounding you, you were no longer alone.