“The Hero No One Answers”

“No one replies. Maybe… they just aren’t listening.”

The hero stood in the village square.

He hadn’t shouted. Just spoken—lightly—toward the world.

But the words slipped through the air like fog.

In this land, saying “everything’s over” was a kind of greeting.

It was something said over drinks, during lunch, before sleep.

Yet few truly believed it was over.

Most still clung to the idea that things would “somehow work out.”

The hero smiled.

There was no demon lord.

Only this slow, quiet rot that no one dared to name.

So he wrote his words.

A little sharp. A little bitter.

Not expecting to be heard—

just in case someone, someday, might pick up the flame.

“Maybe… I don’t have any party left.”

He muttered, then sent another message into the void.

No answer came.

Still, he kept speaking.

If he stopped, he felt like the silence might finally win.