Chapter 1

Academy Black-Haired Foreigner

Prologue

The Weakest Hero is the World's Savior.

Ranked 1st in the annual best of the Japanese web novel site 'Let's Be a Light Novel Writer,' with cumulative sales of 40 million copies in the series!

Following seasons 1, 2, and 3, the final season has been decided for animation, and this light novel is incredible! It has held the top spot for three consecutive years!

This work, known as The Weakest Hero, was my favorite light novel.

Until yesterday.

[My novel is read by uncivilized Koreans and Chinese www]

[Not only Koreans and Chinese, but Japanese readers are also uncivilized www]

[Today, uncivilized readers are living in luxury with money www]

[Uncivilized readers, stop meddling in my masterpiece and shut up www]

[(Photo) It's a hassle to handle the fan letters I receive every day, and the content is all garbage www, throw the garbage in the trash can www]

Today, when the SNS back account of The Weakest Hero author RIN was revealed.

My mood hit rock bottom.

"Damn it."

Curses came out involuntarily.

Anger surged.

I bought the first edition of the book, pre-ordered the animation BD, bought all the goods, comics, figures, drama CDs, and setting books, filled out the tree wiki, and even waited in front of the venue all night to get a signature on the book when the author visited Korea.

And this is how my time, money, and effort are repaid?

"That's the fan letter I sent, isn't it?"

In the photo of the trash can that the author posted, there was the letter I sent.

Old memories came flooding back.

I remember carefully choosing the letter paper to write to the author, translating the text word by word, and sending it by international mail.

I didn't receive a reply, but I thought it was normal for such a popular author.

But to be stabbed in the back like this?

"That bastard..."

When the internet went wild because the only Korean character, Kim Deok-sung, was portrayed as a third-rate thug who loses his temper at the protagonist, I should have quit right away.

The past when I invested precious time in keyboard battles on the internet to defend the author now seems utterly pathetic.

"You're crossing the line..."

An author who treats readers like pigs?

I had only heard about it.

But experiencing it firsthand made my head spin.

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

"Shit."

No matter how much I cursed, the anger didn't subside.

I typed furiously on the keyboard with trembling hands.

5700 characters of rage were loaded into the chamber.

I pressed the mouse button with a trembling hand.

The 5700-character message, translated from Korean to Japanese, was sent to the author's SNS inbox.

Huh? The read receipt appeared.

Ellipsis also showed up.

Notification that the author was writing a reply.

"Go to hell."

I blocked the author's ID.

I didn't want to hear any excuses.

After being cursed and blocked, the author must be pretty pissed off too.

It's only right. Compared to what I've been through, it's nothing.

"Phew."

I calmed my boiling heart.

I turned my head. The Weakest Hero, which I had bought all 20 volumes of, was on the wall of the one-room apartment.

To think I spent so much money on this trash, it makes me want to go crazy.

"I'll burn it all tomorrow."

That's the only way to vent this frustration.

I looked at the clock.

It was already 1 AM. Time to sleep.

I forced myself to calm down and closed my eyes.

When I woke up the next morning, what I saw was:

"What?"

A strange ceiling.

A hellishly difficult start.

An academy story.

A genre I love the most in web novels.

I follow all the paid serials, and there are countless locked academy stories on my list.

But I never thought I would experience possession in a real academy story.

"I'm a possessor."

My heart boiled.

Four days.

The time it took for me to accept the fact that I had been reincarnated into the world of the light novel <The Weakest Hero is the World's Savior>.

"Damn."

I looked in the mirror.

A black-haired boy with a despicable, thug-like appearance stared back.

"Kim Deok-sung."

The name of the character I possessed.

I recalled the original setting.

'The only named Korean character in The Weakest Hero.'

The only hope of the self-proclaimed weak hero nation, Korea.

The only Korean student at the academy.

His role in the original was a combat gauge.

In the first volume of the original, Kim Deok-sung, burning with inferiority, challenges the protagonist Yuji and is thoroughly defeated.

'Normally, an extra like this would exit the stage at this point, but...'

However, the author subverted expectations and reused Kim Deok-sung in the 10th volume.

Naturally, it wasn't in a positive sense.

'When Kim Deok-sung reappeared in the 10th volume, he was the main villain. Driven mad by inferiority from his defeat in the first volume, he sold his soul to gain powerful specialized equipment and carried out a terrorist attack on the academy.'

As a result, he briefly put the protagonist in danger but ultimately met his end at the hands of the awakened protagonist.

He died miserably, still envying the protagonist until the end.

That's the end of the character Kim Deok-sung.

It's a truly malicious setting.

Thinking about how I got stress-induced alopecia from defending this on the internet still makes me grind my teeth.

A dog of an author, and then to stab me in the back like this?

"The problem is that I am that Kim Deok-sung."

I crossed my arms and glared at the mirror.

My already dirty appearance turned into that of a thug from an NTR manga.

I can't stand the way I look, as if I'm trying to look like a third-rate thug.

The best option is not to attend the academy at all.

If I don't go to the academy, I won't have to suffer. I don't want to go to high school again at this age.

World's end? Salvation? Who cares.

The protagonist Yuji will handle everything.

I'm an extra, so I'm not needed.

'Isn't the protagonist there for that?'

But unfortunately, I can't choose the best option of giving up on attending the academy.

Kim Deok-sung is the only hero candidate from South Korea.

As the last hope of South Korea, the entire nation is watching my every move.

There's even a fan club for me.

[The hope of South Korea, Kim Deok-sung! One day until enrollment at Shuohu Hero Academy!]

[Kim Deok-sung got a C rank in the suitability test this time. Is Korea finally breaking out of being a weak hero nation? lol]

[- Already national pride lol. What kind of weak hero nation is this hellish Korea lol]

[- Do you know that a C rank isn't even treated as a hero?]

[- A god-like hero starts at least at B rank sg]

[- Japanese pride, welcome lol]

Even now, if I turn on the internet on my phone, it's all about me.

It's not an exaggeration to say that 50 million South Koreans are watching me.

There's no alternative to me in this world's Korea.

So what? Give up on attending the academy?

"Even if I don't lose my hand, it would be a miracle."

It's impossible.

If I even mention giving up, all the goodwill and attention I'm receiving will turn into hostility.

If that happens, my life will turn from a flower path to a fiery path.

I haven't found a way back to my original world yet, so there's no need to make things worse.

So I have to attend the academy properly.

But there's no reason to be swept up in the original's malicious flow.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang, and a polite voice came through the intercom.

"Mr. Kim Deok-sung. I have brought the item you requested."

The best option has arrived.

*

A middle-aged man in a suit carefully took out a long case.

At his nod, a bodyguard pressed the button on the case.

Click, thud.

The case opened.

Inside the long case was a rusty sword.

"Finding it wasn't that difficult, as you requested, but why would you want such a worn-out antique, which isn't even a portrait weapon...?"

The middle-aged man with a Taegukgi badge, the presidential secretary, asked me cautiously.

I picked up the longsword in the case.

"Since it's a mutually beneficial arrangement, there's no need to know the details, is there?"

"Understood."

I checked the item while listening to his response.

It looks exactly like the one in the anime. The real Durandal.

It's worth it to bully the state. I laughed.

"Good job. Thanks for finding it."

"There's no need to thank me. This level of support is a given. Mr. Kim is the future of South Korea. I was surprised by your frugality, being satisfied with an old item."

The secretary's eyes gleamed seriously.

It's been three days, but I still can't get used to the almost manic expectations people have for me.

I waved my hand and said,

"From now on, it's practice time. Please leave."

"Understood."

The secretary left with the bodyguard.

Thud.

The heavy door closed, and I sighed.

I feel suffocated by the pressure.

Expectations are good, but this is madness.

"I can't be the last hope."

I grumbled and looked at the old longsword, Durandal.

Durandal.

The portrait weapon sought by the main heroine, 'Platinum Knight Princess' Olivia Napoleon Bonaparte.

It looks like a useless item and isn't even treated as a portrait weapon, just gathering dust in a Japanese antique shop.

But its true nature is the weapon of the hero 'Black Prince' Raoul, one of the Five Crowns who saved the world from the great disaster 30 years ago.

It's the lost heirloom of the cousin Olivia admired and her specialized equipment from volume 5 onwards.

The main story of volume 5 is the conflict between the protagonist's group and the New World League, who are trying to steal Durandal.

"I don't care."

I mean it.

I don't care how the original story turns out.

Black Prince is French? France, which has maintained a monarchy until modern times?

The weapon name is not 'Durendal' but 'Durandal'?

A French weapon in a Japanese antique shop?

It's a convenience-based world view that makes me doubt the author's intelligence.

A setting that would be torn apart in an alternate history community.

'Light novels are all like this.'

The author must have really liked France, given that Japan's favorite country is France.

'Hope you get Paris syndrome.'

I cursed the author in my heart and sighed.

Anyway, I need Durandal.

"I need to survive first."

Everyone in this country is counting on me.

Like the presidential secretary who was shooting laser beams of pressure at me earlier.

But if I mess up my academy grades?

I don't even want to imagine it.

To survive, I need to at least get above-average grades.

So, I need to steal a portrait weapon.

"Shit."

The more I think about it, the more absurd it seems.

Being possessed as a normal extra would be better.

But why a Korean?

What did I do to deserve this?

5700 characters?

Compared to the author's slap in the face, it's nothing.

"Bastard, lunatic bastard..."

I cursed the author and got up from my seat.

To awaken Durandal, I need to feed it blood infused with magic.

"Ha."

I, who would frown at stepping on a Lego, self-harm?

This is bullshit.

I saw the rusty blade.

Would I get tetanus from self-harming with that?

"Damn..."

But I have to.

I closed my eyes tightly and brought the rusty blade to my left hand, drawing out my magic.

Hum.

The magic veins in my chest heated up, supplying magic to my body's magic circuit.

Whirr.

A hot sensation enveloped my body. Excitement built up.

Magic.

A transcendent energy that turns humans into superhumans.

Unknown power surged through my body.

"Ah."

A low exclamation escaped as the rusty blade pierced my left palm.

"Ugh."

Pain surged.

Magic flowed out of the wound like a tide.

The blade glowed black.

Durandal greedily absorbed my magic like a leech.

"This damn sword..."

I felt drained and in pain.

I wanted to pull my left hand away, but it was stuck like a magnet.

I gritted my teeth.

Spilled water.

At this point, there's no other way but to become the master of Durandal.

"Let's see who wins."

I held on, cursing.

Thump, thump, thump.

My heart beat. The magic veins heated up to the point of bursting.

The magic circuit overloaded.

My face grew hot. My vision distorted. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

Flash.

A flash of light burst in front of my eyes.

My vision darkened.

My consciousness flickered out like a fluorescent light.