Pale morning sunlight penetrated the tent’s transparent canvas walls, setting its large interior aglow with gentle white light.

A few pieces of fancy looking furniture lay neatly strewn throughout the spacious bedchamber, beautifully lacquered chairs sporting lavish cushions, masterfully carved tables adorned with elegant etchings, even the floor itself was covered in a layer of springy carpet.

It was a luxurious room despite practically being an oversized tent, and it was one befitting of its sole inhabitant.

Glenn rose from his bed, still wrapped in his bedsheets. He stretched both arms above his head and let out a satisfied groan as he began regaining feeling in his muscles.

He’d always been a morning person. The tranquility and silence before the rest of the world awoke calmed his nerves and imbued him with a sense of fulfillment.

It was his ideal environment, if he were back on earth, he’d spend a few minutes basking in the dawn’s early light.

But he wasn’t in his previous world, he was in this one.

And in this world, he had a duty to fulfill.

He pushed himself off the bed and strolled over to his makeshift wash station, really just a fountain contraption of sorts in the corner of the tent.

He placed his hand on the small blue crystal protruding from a brass pipe that hung just above the fountain. After a few moments, cool water began running from the pipe, seemingly produced from thin air.

He cupped the water in his hands and splashed it onto his face, quickly washing away the grogginess.

After brushing his teeth and drying his face with a towel, he opened his wardrobe and began dressing in his usual wear: black linen pants and a thin, form fitting gambeson coat dyed in a deep wine-red.

He’d finally grown used to wearing the flashy get up after many weeks of training. It was what was expected of him, now that he was a hero after all.

As he applied the finishing touches to his outfit, he could hear faint footsteps approaching the tent’s entrance.

“May I step in, sir?”

“Yeah go ahead, I’m just finishing up anyway.”

The person that stepped in was dressed in a full butler’s outfit, finely tailored as to not leave a single imperfection upon the pristine fabric.

In fact everything about him was pristine. His hair was neatly done and his posture was phenomenal, as straight as a pencil but not overtensed in the slightest.

Despite his delicate features and young complexion, he had a certain air of nobility and an infallible composure about him. He may have barely been a teenager, but he was obviously born and bred to be a servant.

“Were you able to rest soundly last night, sir?”

He nodded, checking his buttons in the mirror.

“Yep, no problems there. I would’ve never thought that sleeping in a tent could be so comfortable.”

“That is good to hear, sir.”

He furrowed his brows slightly, “...I’ve told you this before Oscar, but when it's just the two of us you don’t have to speak so formally.”

He bowed slightly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that sir. I, your attendant, cannot speak on equal terms with you, one of the three Holy Heroes of our kingdom.”

A sigh escaped his lips, it was a predetermined response that he’d heard dozens of times already. It was a response devoid of ambition or want, without emotion.

He’d been given the same treatment wherever he went. Sure, citizens would admire and praise him as he walked about the capital, but not a single one had had a full conversation with him.

The nobles kept a distance from him as well, for reasons he could not yet understand.

Even the king himself would treat him with an excessive amount of respect. Of course he appreciated all the nice treatment, but it was starting to get grating.

He dropped the subject, pushing any farther would be rude to the servant boy.

Seeing as he was done, Oscar walked over to another, larger wardrobe beside the previous one.

“Are you ready, sir?”

He scanned through his outfit one last time, making sure there were no loose ends dangling about that could snatch.

“Everything looks good.”

With that, he pulled open the wardrobe’s twin doors to reveal a magnificent set of full plate. Glenn’s mouth went slightly slack in awe, it didn’t matter how many times he saw the armor, it was so stunning that he couldn’t help but gaze in wonder.

Forged by the kingdom’s most skilled blacksmiths, detailed by the continent’s most renowned artisans, and enchanted by the most knowledgeable mages around, this exquisite work of art was the culmination of the kingdom’s entire resources in order to provide the absolute best protection available.

It was a painstakingly made piece that took countless man-hours, and was without a doubt worth at least as much as a small castle.

But it wasn’t just a piece of art.

Glenn sat there and readied his mind as Oscar helped him don the armor. Every piece fit precisely onto his body, as if it was meant to be there. Every segment of armor interlocked with another, forming a giant puzzle that enveloped his entire body beneath his neck.

It was truly a wonder of the latest technology, once fully donned it became a single cohesive unit, all parts working with one another without a hitch.

His movement was completely unimpeded, it was as if he wasn’t wearing any armor at all. His prodigious strength and stamina meant that he could carry armor such as this, which was several times heavier than even a regular set of plate.

Whilst not being thicker than most plate, it was made almost entirely of rare magical metals, which was a feat upon itself. Most high end magical armor was made with a heavily diluted alloy, usually by mixing a small amount of either mythril or some other type of magical metal with regular steel.

This was done because magical metals are extremely expensive, along with requiring a specialized workshop with specialized equipment to forge. Aside from that, it was extremely heavy and thus several times denser than steel.

A 1:3 ratio of mythril to steel was largely considered to be the best ratio for high end magical armor. Beyond that point even the best warriors with two-hundred strength and above would struggle to fight at full effectiveness.

Glenn, who had well over a thousand, could wear it with ease. Such is the might of heroes.

It was already completely impervious to any kind of physical attack whatsoever from any human or demihuman. A full swing from a halberd wouldn’t even scratch it’s shining plates.

To go even a level beyond, small magical gems placed throughout the set imbued the armor with a plethora of high-class enchantments. Things like “Protection from Missiles” which caused any projectiles to avoid the wearer as if it were a magnet, or “Impact Absorption” which made it so that he could fall a hundred feet and feel absolutely no ill side effects, among many others.

Stamina regeneration, health regeneration, mana regeneration, it had it all and more.

A crimson cape, weaved from dried dragon sinew and imbued with specifically anti-magic enchantments, was draped onto his back. He was now nearly immune to all magic effects.

It may seem excessive, but considering the enemies they were facing it was more than necessary.

Finally, a gem pendant was placed around his neck. The gem attached to it was a powerful artifact that fully encased his head in a nigh impenetrable barrier, stronger and more rigid than any helm.

Besides being a tradition for heroes, it would allow the troops around him to see his supposedly unwavering face during battle.

To finish things off, Oscar carefully reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a long ornate wooden box.

Then, as delicately as he could, he unlatched it to reveal a magnificent sword sitting in a bed of crimson silk.

The Hero’s Blade, or so it was called. It was a weapon who’s creator and origin is unknown, even it’s composition was a mystery to even the court’s mages and alchemists.

All that’s known is that it was used by the first hero who suddenly appeared hundreds of years ago. Whether this hero was summoned from another world such as he had was anyone’s guess, the records had long since been lost throughout many conflicts.

It was truly the embodiment of legendary. It was the stuff spoken about in children’s books, the sword that everyone in the kingdom- no, the continent had heard about.

It was abnormally sharp, and somehow looked even more magnificent than the armor, despite its age.

Most importantly, it could withstand his fire magic.

As he’d grown over the past months, his fire had only grown hotter and hotter, to the point where even pure adamantine would melt within seconds.

Whatever magic or method of production was used when creating it, it was undoubtedly one of the best in the world, let alone the kingdom.

He securely fastened the blade to his hip, making sure that it wouldn’t become undone under any circumstance.

After all had been done, he stood there and allowed Oscar to do the finishing touches, making sure his hair was done, making sure the armor was completely fastened without doubt, that sort of thing.

As he sat there, he finally gave into his eagerness,

“Say, have you received any news of the southern front?”

Still working, Oscar thought for a moment before speaking.

“Don’t worry, it seems that Sir Malt is doing fine.”

“Really?”

“Without a doubt. The situation is the same as it has always been. Khodor’s troops are few in number and don't dare to launch a full assault.”

“Even so…”

He paused and looked into Glenn’s eyes. Then, to his surprise, the corners of his mouth rose in a small, yet sincere smile and his eyes softened, for once breaking the composed facade that he always had on.

“Trust me, we have reports that the southern front has faced almost no opposition. They are receiving a small, but steady amount of recruits and are taking no casualties.”

Hearing this, Glenn finally calmed down.

“That’s good then, I’d feel terrible if he was harmed.”

“And why is that, sir? It was his own choice after all.”

His mouth curled into a somber smile, “Yeah I know, guess I just feel kind of guilty that we were blessed with all these amazing stats and social status and all, while he got...well nothing really.”

“I’m sure he can persevere despite that, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, to be honest I don’t know him all that well, but from what I do know about him I’m sure he’s fine.”

Oscar’s eyes shut in a close eyed smile, “If anything he’s probably more than fine. I hear the troops there bored out of their minds with no fighting to do.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “I can assure you, it seems to be the general consensus around the capital and nobility.”

With this, his doubts had been cleared in his mind, focussed.

He stood up, now donning his full set and his hero’s facade: brave, unfearing.

“At least he’s doing his part.”

He walked over to the entrance of the tent, which Oscar was holding open.

“And if he’s doing his, I’ll do mine.”

He walked out of his tent and into the battlefield.