The Truth
While a bloodbath raged across the Rancart domain between the Beastkin legion and the Imperial Army, a suffocating silence hung over a tiny village situated far closer to the Demonic Realm.
To any passing observer, it appeared no different from any other hamlet on the frontier—a sun-bleached cluster of cottages untouched by imperial administration and inhabited by only a handful of souls. Yet for the past two weeks, this quiet enclave had hosted none other than the Hero's party.
In a village of merely several dozen households where each passing day mirrored the last, their arrival had been an earth-shattering event. The villagers had celebrated at first as though a festival had begun, with some even offering to slaughter their prized hogs to entertain the continent’s saviors. That wild fervor, however, did not last. Two full weeks had passed, and the Hero’s companions remained holed up in their modest village hall without making a move.
No matter how unlettered the self-sufficient villagers were, they could not help sensing that something was terribly amiss. Why would the legendary Hero’s party, whose sole mission was to vanquish the Demon King, remain buried away in a barren, forgotten wasteland?
"...I mean, it's an honor and all, but this is getting a bit strange, isn't it?"
"Hold your tongue, neighbor! Did you forget how the Saintess cured all our children's skin rot? She even handed out gold baubles, saying she felt awful about eating into our stores!"
"I'm grateful for that, truly. But should people with such urgent duties really be resting this long?"
"Maybe they're thinking of settling down here once the Demon King is dead! Could be scoping out plots of land in advance, eh?"
"In a godforsaken backwater... like this?"
Every time the villagers crossed paths, the conversation inevitably drifted toward the party's prolonged stay. It wasn't born of resentment or malice, but sheer bewilderment. Why would heroes tasked with hunting demons choose to sequester themselves inside a drafty communal hall? Surely they didn't intend to become peasant farmers.
Their hushed gossip, however, was abruptly cut short.
"You all seem terribly curious about our plans."
Silvina, the elven archer possessing an ethereal, pristine beauty, stepped into view beside Millia, a pink-haired knight whose poise carried an alluring feminine grace. Compared to the dust-streaked maidens of the village, their striking elegance belonged to another world entirely. Yet the villagers were in no position to admire their looks. Regardless of how long they had idled, the Hero’s party remained towering figures far above common folk.
"O-oh, no! It's not that at all, my ladies—"
"Please, there is no need to apologize. It is only natural that you would wonder," Millia said, offering a practiced, reassuring smile. "However, waging war against the Demon King’s army demands immense patience. One must maneuver in secret and strike from the shadows to achieve meaningful victories."
"Ah, is that so...?"
"Think of this village as... well, a covert staging ground. We are perched right on the doorstep of the Demonic Realm, yet safely beyond the reach of the enemy's regular patrols. We regret placing you at risk, but we must ask for your patience a little longer. Will you bear with us?"
"Y-yes! Of course, my lady!"
Trading embarrassed glances and muttering chastisements like "See? What did I tell you?", the villagers hastily dispersed.
Silvina and Millia watched their retreating backs in silence. Once the peasants were well out of earshot, a heavy, synchronized sigh escaped their lips—a bitter lament for their current plight, reduced to playing warden over the gossip of rural bumpkins.
"Silvina, how much longer are we supposed to rot here?"
"We wait until the Hero sends word from the Imperial Capital," the elf replied bluntly.
"But the locals are growing more suspicious by the day. Couldn't we at least cull the beasts roaming nearby? It would quell their doubts and lend credence to our claim that we're using this place as an outpost."
"And risk exposing our position to either the Empire or the Demon King? Remote as this place may be, it is not entirely severed from the outside world."
"I know that, but... haaah."
Silvina urged her forward with a firm reminder to trust the Hero and wait, striding ahead. Millia trailed behind, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
During a grueling campaign, spending a few days in a settlement to recuperate was standard practice. The physical toll of ceaseless combat meant regular respites were necessary to keep fighting trim. Furthermore, this generation's Hero party had been extraordinarily large compared to its predecessors, their ranks swelled by dozens of the Holy Kingdom's finest paladins—a detachment so substantial that rumors claimed half the theocracy's standing martial power had been hollowed out to accompany them.
It was precisely because of this overwhelming escort that the Hero, despite his glaring deficiencies in swordsmanship, had managed to rack up glorious exploits in such short order. With paladins wielding holy power—devastatingly potent against demonkind—and demonstrating exemplary bladecraft at his flank, success had been guaranteed. Although the Holy Kingdom suffered frequent demonic raids due to its depleted domestic defenses, not a peep of complaint arose from the clergy, so lavish were the enormous donations funneled to them by the Hero.
Yet now, the grand expeditionary force had shrunk back down to a miserable handful.
The reason was singular: their clash with Beast King Leoneo, one of the Demon King’s Four Heavenly Kings.
Beast King Leoneo.
Born a lizardman, he was a living legend who possessed Herculean strength and peerless martial instincts, having unified all the disparate lizardman tribes under his banner before reaching adulthood. He operated on an entirely different plane from ordinary beastkin, so monstrous in prowess that whispers persistently claimed dragon blood ran thick through his veins.
Yes, he was unquestionably formidable. Yet the Hero’s party, having already slain two of the Four Heavenly Kings, felt no particular dread. When intelligence arrived that the Beast King had briefly returned to his ancestral lands after an extended deployment in the Demonic Realm, launching a preemptive strike seemed the obvious course of action.
The ensuing battle, however, defied all their arrogant expectations.
To begin with, the Holy Kingdom’s paladins—who had faithfully served as both frontline meat shields and elite vanguard—found their divine magic utterly useless. The party had operated under the premise that any beastman promoted to Heavenly King must have steeped himself in demonic miasma to attain greater strength. Why, then, did their sacred arts fail to leave a scratch? The party was left utterly dumbfounded.
Indifferent to their confusion, the Beast King tore through several paladins with brutal ease before hurtling toward the Hero with terrifying momentum. Rallied by their chieftain's savagery, the lizardman warriors surged forward into the fray.
Even then, the party did not despair. Humanity’s ultimate champion, Hero Kwon Hee-jin, still stood firm. Though whispered to be second-rate due to his lazy neglect of sword training, he remained the chosen wielder of the Holy Sword, a transcendent being blessed with the Goddess’s Divine Protection. Furthermore, this was no solitary duel; the entire party stood ready to back him.
Indeed, Kwon Hee-jin had drawn the Holy Sword with sweeping bravado, stepping forward as if to avenge the fallen holy warriors.
"Come, beast! I'll sever you in two with a single strike!"
His gallant roar had seemed remarkably dependable for once. It felt as though a mere overgrown reptile could be brought to heel in no time.
Yet the Beast King’s might eclipsed their wildest nightmares. His weapon was forged from the fang of an ancient dragon, and impossibly for a beastman, he wielded devastating magic. He truly fought as if born of dragonkin. He was an apex predator leagues above the two Heavenly Kings they had previously felled—an insurmountable obstacle for a pampered Hero whose mind had long been rotted by Kodana speculation and carnal indulgence.
The aftermath was an unmitigated disaster.
While not an outright wipeout, it was functionally a crushing defeat. Most of the paladins sent by the Holy Kingdom were slaughtered where they stood, while the few survivors lay crippled in this wretched village, their prospects of recovery bleak.
Nor did the core members escape unscathed. Their mage had suffered damaged mana circles from catastrophic overexertion; Silvina had snapped her bow, crafted from a sacred branch of the World Tree; and worst of all, the Hero himself was maimed. Though not fatal, the wound was permanent and irrevocable.
Only Millia had emerged relatively intact, but that was merely because she had never been a decisive combatant against such monsters in the first place—a run-of-the-mill swordswoman who had only recently scraped the threshold of Expert Intermediate rank.
Had they managed to execute the Beast King at such horrific cost, it might have provided some semblance of solace. Regrettably, Leoneo had merely sustained grave wounds, somehow clinging to life and escaping into the wilderness. Given the regenerative vigor inherent to beastkin, he would undoubtedly recover his full strength in due time. Should the Beast King take the field once more...
The mere thought sent a shiver through Millia's spine. Pale-faced, she shook her head to dispel the encroaching dread.
"Silvina... how much longer can we possibly keep this hidden?"
"Keep what hidden?"
"You know exactly what I mean. If the world finds out the Beast King is still breathing, we're—"
"Mind your tongue," Silvina cut in sharply. "Remote as this hamlet is, itinerant peddlers pass through on occasion. One careless slip will bring ruin down upon our heads. Besides, given the severity of the Beast King's injuries, he will most likely go into permanent retirement."
"...Still, it's already..."
It's already ruined, isn't it? Millia swallowed the words before they could leave her lips, unable to voice their utter doom.
Silvina placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her companion's trembling back.
"It will be fine, Millia. The Hero will find a way."
In the end, Silvina’s final anchor of hope was none other than Kwon Hee-jin.
"In a situation like this, what could the Hero possibly do?"
"For a human, he is exceptionally shrewd," Silvina murmured softly. "...And tell me, Millia: is there anyone else left for us to trust, anyone else we can lean on? Our only recourse is to nurse our wounds in silence until he sends word."
"If you say so, Silvina... then yes, I understand."
In truth, the party had no choice but to place their faith in him. He had been brought to a bloody stalemate by a mere Heavenly King, had colluded with his primary investor—the Second Prince—and had forged a brazen lie to the Imperial Court. Yet despite all that, the Hero was still the Hero. If anyone possessed the cunning to manufacture a breakthrough from this quagmire, it was him alone.
"He should have reached the capital by now."
"I suppose... yes. Probably."
The court in the Imperial Capital undoubtedly believed he had returned to triumphantly announce the final march against the Demon King. The truth, of course, was starkly different. How could they dream of marching on the Demon King when they hadn't even slain the Beast King?
Kwon Hee-jin had fled to the capital solely to untangle the knotted catastrophe he had created: the mass slaughter of the paladins, the grievous wounds sustained by his inner circle, and the web of fabrications he had submitted to the throne.
Yes. He must have a scheme up his sleeve, or he wouldn't have gone all the way to the capital.
Millia resolved to stake her hopes on him. After all, she had nothing else left.
At that very hour, inside the Imperial Palace.
"...No, seriously, Your Highness! I took a massive risk pumping the price for you, and you still haven't dumped your bags? I literally set up a clean exit strategy so you could get out scot-free, and you blew it! I've already cashed out!"
"Circumstances arose that stayed my hand!" the Second Prince shot back defensively. "Ever since Eric dumped all one hundred and eight coins onto the exchange in a single stroke, the movements of the major players—the 'whales,' as you call them, Hero—have drawn absurd amounts of scrutiny! The moment I begin liquidating my holdings, a catastrophic market crash will trigger instantly!"
"Haah, what a fucking disaster. The Holy Kingdom is going to smell something rotten any day now."
"Then devise an alternative, Hero, and do it swiftly! Only then can I continue to shield you once the truth comes to light!"