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I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [777]
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 13:49:02 +0000 UTCThe death of Agris, the “Mirage of a Thousand Phantasms,” unfolded clearly before Shana and Alastor.
Hovering before them was a treasured mirror, and Agris’s death was precisely reflected upon its surface.
The Phantom Nitocris did not waste the remaining Power of Existence from Agris’s death either, storing all of it within the mirror. Frugality, after all, was a virtue.
"Hmm... from this mirror, I sense an exceptionally powerful aura of Authority," Alastor commented with great interest toward the mirror in phantom Nitocris’s hand. "Those hands grasping Agris—were they manifestations of his accumulated sins? A fascinating method of judgment."
“Death is the endpoint of all life,” phantom Nitocris spoke leisurely. “Before my scales, every soul must account for their accumulated sins. Only then can they return to purity and proceed into the next cycle. This is my duty.” She paused. “This is the [Arbitration of the Netherworld God]—a sacred relic connecting life and death, capable of reflecting the visage of the underworld, or the dark Otherworld. It reveals the truest form of souls and the sins entwined upon them.”
The God of Retribution, Alastor, seemed quite fond of conversations with Nitocris. That wasn’t hard to understand: the other two Crimson Gods, the God of Guidance never spoke with anyone, and the God of Creation held views utterly at odds with Alastor's own—conversation was impossible.
Though Nitocris wasn’t a Crimson God, but rather a God of Humanity, her perspective overlapped significantly with Alastor's. Even more valuable was that the laws they embodied had some intersection. Whenever discussing their understandings of “judgment” and “condemnation,” Nitocris’s novel ideas often sparked Alastor’s contemplation deeply. After their discussions, both deities felt greatly enriched.
But now clearly wasn’t the time for another academic discussion.
“Your body...?!”
Shana suddenly exclaimed in alarm. Before her eyes, phantom Nitocris’s figure rapidly blurred, destabilizing and nearing collapse.
Phantom Nitocris glanced at her own palm, speaking calmly: “It seems I’ve reached my limit. After all, this was originally a phantom created by Agris from your memory of me. Through a faint connection, my consciousness and a portion of my strength temporarily manifested here. Now that Agris is dead, this phantom naturally fades away.”
Only then did Shana remember—this Nitocris was not the real one, merely a phantom.
Seriously… for a phantom, aren’t you way too strong? With all the discs in everyone’s spines, why are yours protruding so much?
Watching the figure about to vanish, Shana opened her mouth.
At a moment like this, perhaps she should say “thank you”?
But instead, what left her lips was a reluctant whisper to herself.
“You saved me again...”
Doesn't this mean the day when I’ve fully repaid her favors grows even further away?
If I can't pay back these favors… won’t it mean I can never become a mature Flame Haze?
Shana conveniently forgot the fact that she herself had previously “saved” phantom Nitocris during the fight against Phantom Sydonay.
Phantom Nitocris paused slightly, observing Shana sinking into her private gloom, momentarily unsure of what to say.
Even gods could struggle when it came to comforting someone.
Yet phantom Nitocris still spoke, not because she’d found a good phrasing, but because if she didn’t say something now, she would soon dissipate entirely.
“There’s no need to obsess over this so deeply. Just let it come naturally. When the day comes that I require your assistance, you’ll repay these favors naturally.”
Hearing this, Shana frowned, glaring upward at phantom Nitocris.
“…You're already so powerful. Would there even come a day when you'd need my help?”
Phantom Nitocris began reflecting on whether she had displayed a bit too much of her strength earlier, inadvertently causing this child to lose confidence.
“Even gods aren't omnipotent. Compared to naturally perfect gods, humanity indeed holds greater potential. You humans exist unconstrained by common logic. Precisely because humanity continually surprises the gods, we never tire of casting our gazes down into your world.”
Phantom Nitocris’s eyes held a gentle smile. “So, don’t fret merely because I saved you once. If you have weaknesses, correct them. If you face insurmountable obstacles, rely on others. Humans grow stronger by confronting their own vulnerabilities. Even gods encounter things beyond their capability—so why do you insist on bearing everything alone?”
“…Flame Hazes always fight alone. Only immature Flame Hazes rely on others, proving they aren't yet capable of standing independently.” Shana lowered her head, speaking these somewhat cold words slowly. It wasn't clear whether she was talking to phantom Nitocris or to herself.
Phantom Nitocris revealed a meaningful smile upon hearing this.
“In that case, wouldn't that mean all Flame Hazes are immature?”
“After all, within your bodies, there are companions who remain beside you for a lifetime—your Crimson Lords.”
Shana froze abruptly.
Even the star-flame in the pendant around Shana’s neck flickered briefly, clearly indicating that Alastor, though silent until now, had been attentively listening to every word exchanged between phantom Nitocris and Shana.
Then, both Shana and Alastor fell silent.
Partly because neither could refute phantom Nitocris’s words in the slightest, and partly because phantom Nitocris herself had already vanished.
Before them now remained only a swirl of soft mist.
After phantom Nitocris disappeared, her experiences synchronized directly back to Nitocris herself.
“...”
...
“Ah, Kami-sama!” Hirai Yukari startled, then hesitantly asked, “Kami-sama, just now... did you leave for a moment?”
“Hmm? Why do you ask that?”
“Um… just a feeling? I felt as though you weren't here just now.”
“No, I was here the whole time. Currently, there isn’t another suitable vessel besides you. However... it is true that I projected part of my consciousness elsewhere temporarily and allowed this side to sleep briefly. Of course, if you wanted to speak, I would awaken and respond immediately.”
“Consciousness projection?”
“It was Shana’s side. She encountered an enemy with particularly troublesome abilities.”
“Eh?! Shana-chan is…”
Hirai Yukari froze briefly, her concern momentarily causing her movements to falter, leading to her arm being hit by a flying volleyball.
“Alright! Hirai-san is out!”
Immediately, cries of despair erupted behind Hirai Yukari, while cheers burst from the opposite side of the net.
The despairing cries came from Hirai Yukari’s teammates, while the cheers belonged to their opponents.
This class was Physical Education, and Yukari’s class had been playing dodgeball.
Nitocris vaguely recalled playing a similar game in elementary school—only they’d thrown sandbags instead of volleyballs, and the game wasn’t called the obvious “dodgeball” but “Duck Hunt.” Its rules differed too: dodgeball had two teams throwing balls at each other; Duck Hunt involved two “hunters” at opposite ends throwing sandbags at a group of “ducks” in the middle.
Watching Yukari’s class playing this game, nostalgia gently stirred within her.
Too bad I can't join them... That would go beyond an adult bullying children—like the sun wanting to hug the Earth tenderly, only for Earth to combust excitedly before they even touched.
The reason for the despairing cries was that Hirai Yukari had been her team’s last hope. All her teammates had embarrassingly gotten themselves eliminated by volleyballs, leaving only Yukari stubbornly holding the line.
The cheers arose because Yukari genuinely intimidated the opposing team. Whenever she threw, she eliminated an opponent with frightening accuracy, like someone using a cheat code for automatic target-locking. She dodged incoming balls with ease, movements so graceful that even the gymnastics club president recently begged her incessantly to represent their school in an international competition.
Yukari had won the dodgeball matches several times already. Her teammates had grown used to coasting on her victories—why not relax and ride her coattails to an easy win?
To encourage team participation, the PE teacher even added a special rule specifically targeting Yukari: she wasn’t allowed to throw a ball until every teammate was eliminated.
Yet this time, while her teammates celebrated early with imaginary champagne—sure of another Yukari show—Yukari had suddenly gotten herself hit.
“I…I actually hit her?!”
Sakai Yūji still stood frozen in the pose of having just thrown the ball, shock plainly written all over his face. Even he himself hadn’t expected his volleyball to actually hit Hirai Yukari.
“Sakai! You really hit her! That was awesome, man! Hahaha!”
A boy with glasses suddenly rushed excitedly up to Sakai Yūji, wrapping an arm around his shoulder enthusiastically. The two seemed extremely close.
On Hirai Yukari’s side, a girl also approached with concern:
“Are you okay, Hirai-san?”
Hirai Yukari smiled slightly, shaking her head gently toward the girl in front of her.
“Thank you for your concern, Ogata-san. I'm fine; I was just spacing out a bit.”
“I see...” Ogata Matake relaxed her worried expression, immediately breaking into a bright grin. She cheerfully looped an arm around Hirai Yukari’s elbow, saying, “Good, good—as long as you're alright! Who cares about losing just once? If you never lost, you wouldn’t be human—you’d be like Kami-sama herself. Anyway, you've already won so many times, so let those guys over there be happy for once.”
As if on cue, cheers erupted once again from nearby. Sakai Yūji was currently surrounded by a group of classmates, looking quite overwhelmed.
“It's just one win, and they're already this smug, as if every one of them had personally thrown the ball that hit you. You’ve won countless times before, but I’ve never seen you celebrate like that.”
“Haha, well…”
Hirai Yukari scratched her cheek a little awkwardly.
Perhaps protagonists in certain system-themed novels might dominate school life with flashy power-ups, enthusiastically courting girls and slapping faces, but not her. Her skin wasn’t thick enough for that.
Besides, after Nitocris had broadened her horizons so significantly, bullying normal people held little sense of achievement for Hirai Yukari now.
“So... Hirai-san, have you reconsidered?” Ogata Matake glanced Yukari up and down, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “The more I look, the more I feel you’re perfect for our volleyball club!”
“I’ll pass... I'm not really planning on joining any clubs right now…” Hirai Yukari gently turned down Ogata Matake’s invitation.
“But why not?” Ogata Matake pouted, clearly unable to understand Yukari’s decision. “You clearly have so much talent…”
“Hahaha... I have some personal reasons.”
Hirai Yukari was busy enough just saving the world. Nitocris, considerate of Yukari’s daily life, only borrowed her body after school hours or on weekends—she really didn’t have time for club activities.
“...Alright, then.” Although disappointed, Ogata Matake didn't press further. She didn’t want Yukari to dislike her because of something like this—it wouldn't be worth it. “But if you ever change your mind, you must let me know first! Our volleyball club is definitely a better fit for you than all those other clubs. Besides, you already know plenty of us here, right? Friends should stick together—you can’t let the good stuff flow into strangers’ fields.”
Ogata Matake, a volleyball club member herself, was clearly working hard to recruit Hirai Yukari.
Unfortunately, Yukari’s aspirations lay elsewhere.
What concerned her more now was Shana’s situation. She’d only gotten distracted and hit by that volleyball earlier because she’d heard Shana had encountered a powerful enemy.
Nitocris immediately reassured her.
“No need to worry. Shana is fine now—I’ve already dealt with the enemy.”
“So that's why... Kami-sama projected her consciousness earlier to help Shana-chan…”
Although they'd only spent a single day together, and though Yukari’s attempts at conversation were usually coldly ignored by Shana, Yukari still remembered clearly that girl who was similarly contracted to a deity.
After Nitocris provided the locations of several Crimson Denizens, Shana had left without hesitation to hunt them down—and still hadn’t returned.
Later that day after class, Yukari once again lent her body to Nitocris. It only took a few minutes to eliminate some nameless, cliché Crimson Denizen, after which she went straight home…
“Yukari, why did you go shopping alone after school today instead of going with your friend?”
“Huh?”
“Don't ‘huh’ me—your friend even came by the house looking for you. Go up and keep her company. There’s some fruit in your room. And remember to wash your hands first!”
With confusion, Hirai Yukari quickly went upstairs, heading toward her own room.
When she opened the door, her gaze landed immediately on a petite girl with black hair and dark eyes, with delicate, porcelain-doll-like features, though her expression was somewhat cold.
It was Shana.
---
This is a fan translation of 我才不要当英灵 by 死神的挽歌. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
