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A hero was a tragic irony.

To be called a hero, circumstances requiring one must first arise. In short, a hero has no value other than that of solving the problem that gave rise to him or her.

Hellsgate, and Earth for that matter, were absolute shitholes. War, famine, poverty, catastrophes, and crime. The sheer number of problems made being a hero a lot easier than it had been before.

As much as I tried to deny the thought, I couldn't. Without my knowledge, John Smith's goals shifted to those of a hero. Originally, I just wanted to survive. Then, when I found out that the Formless were being treated like trash, I wanted to show that they weren't.

Eventually, the problems that arose from my survival forced me to aim higher. To be strong enough to live for myself, I wanted to become a Revenant. Closing the Hellsgate was so I could be free. When I heard about Trinity, I just wanted to kill zombies so those bastards would leave Earth alone.

'Is Limitless a hero?'

It was a gradual process, but I couldn't deny that my goals sounded honorable and heroic. However, I died trying to become one, so I had a natural aversion to being called a hero.

With the title came responsibility. If people knew I could care less about them, would they be disappointed? So does that mean I have to be all chivalrous now?

Yeah, fuck that. I will do what I want because I want to, not because I was a hero.

"Pfft. Like I give a shit about anyone else."

"I beg your pardon?" Phillip asked confused.

"Nothing, listen Phillip, you can call me a hero, but I want to tell you that I am just a selfish bastard. Everything I do is for my own purposes."

"What do you mean, Mr. Smith?"

"I mean, if my kindred and all the reapers in Hellsgate were put on a scale, a hero would choose the latter. I, on the other hand, would kill everyone else myself."

"..."

Right. John Smith might have been overjoyed to be given that title. For someone with low self-esteem, being called a hero would make him feel important.

But I was Limitless. I would be a Revenant. I had no time for nonsense.

'More than a hero, my goals are far beyond that. I will definitely be fighting Reapers soon.' I mused.

The clashes with the Savior told me that in advance. Bastards like them were allowed to run around because David tolerated them. For all his talk of might making right, they allowed poison to corrupt his kingdom.

So far, each Revenant has made his decision according to his beliefs.

David Thomas allowed the Saviors to exist.

Clive Zanardi forced Descendants to be born and bred for war.

Li Wudi used his reapers as cannon fodder.

Each Revenant made his own rules that shaped the lives of those under him.

If you lived under their rule, it would naturally come to a point where you either agreed with them or thought they were wrong.

Since I never intended to subordinate myself to anyone, I need to figure out what to do right now.

Perhaps I should consult Bella. But if all seven continents have Revenants, where would I go?

"Mr. Smith?"

Phillip's words brought me back to the matter at hand. He made an awkward cough as he continued.

"Well, your moral inclinations aside, Mr. Smith, I don't really care about such matters. I just used a hero to make it easier to explain."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I asked, suspecting his intentions.

"Mr. Smith, I am already in hell. Why could it be worse? You can call yourself a demon king or even a goldfish and I would still follow you. I have always trusted my gut, and right now it is telling me that you are my golden ticket."

Well, when he said it like that, I guess it was true. People follow gods to have something to hold on to. Phillip must be similar.

"Now I ask again. Please let me be your official clerk. In return, I will do my best to handle anything you find troublesome. With me, you need only continue to do what you are excellent at."

I disliked troublesome things, especially those that were difficult to understand and were generally useless. That was why professions arose that revolved around tedious tasks.

These were brokers, sales agents, hell, even ball boys or golf caddies were of the same vein. It was a proven fact that these support roles, if done well, helped their respective bosses.

'I don't know anyone else at this point, so why not?' I debated internally.

Although going with Phillip would mean giving up the opportunity to have a sexy bombshell of a clerk doing my paperwork.

I then remembered the Idol-like girls before, they looked gorgeous but were as shallow as they come.

'Yeah, going with them seems like a bad idea.'

At least I know that Phillip needs me as much as I need a helper. Having made up my mind, I responded to the monocled clerk's suggestion.

"Very well, then I will have you as my official clerk. Take care of everything else. I am here to kill undead, no more, no less."

Upon receiving my reply, Phillip made an exaggerated stage bow and smiled in a manner reminiscent of a scheming peddler.

"It shall be my pleasure to serve you, Mr. Smith, or would you prefer to be called Limitless?"

I nodded and got out of my seat. "Yes, whenever we are in hell, call me that. John Smith, he no longer exists."