Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Let's Never See Each Other Again
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Coming to this other world, I'd gone through a hell of a lot.
I'd lost my master to the Demon King, but through her brutal training, I'd reached the realm of Swordmaster. My companions had all retired from the fight one by one, but when my blade finally touched that damned Demon King bastard, a thrill of ecstasy surged through me.
[Impressive, Hero. I, Demon King Marbas, shall never forget you—]
"...Shut up and die, you bastard."
Stab—
[...Wait, my final words—]
"...God, you talk too much. I've got things to do. I'm busy."
The Saintess Lena had passed out from the Demon King's black magic, and the rest of the party was down, their wounds piling up.
Having held the front line as long as I could, Isabella had collapsed, and the elf mage Seria had fallen after clashing mana with him. I didn't want to listen to the Demon King's dying ASMR while carrying them both, so I was searching for the exit to get out of the Demon King's castle.
[I, Marbas, have waited all this time for a battle with a true warrior—]
"Hey, do you know where the exit is?"
[...Listen to me. You must respect me. I have led countless armies of powerful demons—]
"Man, you sure love to hear yourself talk."
[.......]
What was that? He seemed pretty pissed.
But whatever. It didn't matter.
His mana flow was fading in real time, and within a minute, the Demon King's life would be express-delivered straight to hell.
...Wait, for a Demon King, isn't hell his home? Anyway.
That was when it happened.
From behind me, a powerful magic circle was forming.
It wasn't mana—it was a curse incantation.
'...Seriously, still using that kind of magic?'
But when I turned around, the Demon King's soul was already dissipating.
That rotten bastard had used his own blood—the ultimate medium for a Demon King—to hurl one final curse spell at me.
A ultra-high-tier curse magic that would hit me dead-on within five seconds of casting unless the Saintess covered me.
The curse's brand etched itself into my body, and with growing unease, I waited for some change...
"......Huh?"
Nothing happened.
Three months later.
In the courtroom, a prisoner who'd just received his sentence was slowly escorted by executioners to the underground dungeon, his arms bound.
"Die!!!"
"Repent!! You shameless bastard!!!"
"Because of you... because of you, my little sister died... sob... And you're supposed to be a Hero?!!"
Thwack—
Thud—
"...Ugh."
My lip split open from the stones flying from the crowd in the distance.
Because of the battle with the Demon King, the mana spring in my heart had shattered, leaving my aura in ruins. I was no longer a Swordmaster—just a guy who knew how to swing a sword well.
Two years and six months.
That was the sentence I'd received after devoting my life to this world, beheading demons, and slaying the Demon King bastard—in the courtroom.
The curse magic he'd left behind was an ultra-high-tier spell: Perception Distortion.
The Demon King had used it to pin all his murder counts on me.
My master's death, countless priests and knights. And even further, the lives of a hundred thousand innocent civilians—all twisted into my doing.
No excuses needed.
The truth had already been distorted. No matter what I said, I'd just look like a pathetic murderer denying it in court, fueling even more public outrage.
The fact that I'd only gotten two years and six months was probably because they acknowledged my feat of slaying the Demon King.
...Two years and six months.
I steeled my resolve.
I didn't know how long the curse would last, but no matter how ultra-high-tier it was—completed with the Demon King's own blood—even it couldn't exceed three years.
When the Perception Distortion lifted and everyone realized it was all the Demon King's curse, not the truth... I'd forgive them with a smile.
'...Yeah, because I'm a good Hero.'
The Saintess Lena, with whom a sweet romance had been budding.
Isabella, who'd confessed to me, but I'd turned her down because of the Hero's duty.
Nothing romantic with Seria, but...
Anyway, for my companions' sake—at least when the curse broke, I'd let them spoil me a bit.
...That mindset lasted exactly three days.
Slap!!
Crack—!!
"......Ugh..."
"Hah? A so-called Hero putting up with it? For real?"
Sizzle—
A red-hot iron poker pressed against my chest, smoke rising with the sound.
The torture officer, Aileen, smirked at my twitching body, laughed her ass off for a while, then tossed the poker aside and let me out of the torture chamber.
How much time passed?
This pitch-black underground dungeon blurred day and night.
Every day, I marked the walls to track dates, enduring horrific torture from Aileen in the underground interrogation room.
...Of course, plenty of my former companions visited this dungeon.
First was the Saintess, Lena.
She watched me get tortured with utter contempt.
When I was finally released from the chains, exhausted, she slowly asked me,
"...Why did you do it? Why...?"
She looked genuinely baffled, repeating the question over and over.
"...I didn't do it. I swear."
I stared at her, pouring all my injustice into repeating the same words.
But she looked at me like I was a bug and spat cold venom.
"...All those people who died because of you... I saw it all. So why...?!!"
"...Lena, Lena..."
"Are you even human...?!!"
Her emotions surged wildly.
"..."
"If you're like this... why the hell were you ever nice to me? If this is how it was...!!"
Tears streamed from Lena's eyes.
She hurriedly wiped them away, not wanting to show weakness, and never returned.
A year later, the second visitor was Isabella, the priestess who'd trained under the same master.
The moment she saw my face, she unleashed a torrent of curses I couldn't even make out, then burst into sobs.
To her, I was just the trash who'd killed our master.
The enemy who'd slain him right before her eyes.
"...The fact that I once respected you... even liked you... it disgusts me now."
"You're... absolute garbage."
"...No excuses, huh. Yeah, I'm garbage. Fuck."
"...?! "
"Yeah, you bastards. I killed them all. Happy? The killer of your master is right here—why don't you finish me off?"
"......"
Thud—!!
Isabella lost her reason, unleashing a one-sided beating laced with violence.
...If I had to explain, by the first year, my mental state had started crumbling.
At first, I'd tried explaining the curse, making excuses—but nothing worked, so yeah, I'd kinda snapped.
After that, I never saw Isabella again.
The last to visit was the short—but over a few hundred years old—elf mage, Seria.
"......"
She just stared at me silently, always.
No curses, no anger.
She'd come every morning to ask Aileen if I was alive—or dead.
Her requesting a meeting was about six months before my release.
"......What."
"......."
"What're you staring at? Yeah, I'm a murderer. Killed a hundred thousand, wiped out your elf clan—trash through and through. Why don't you blast my face with a spell on your way out?"
"......Adel."
"......"
My words caught in my throat.
It had been so, so long.
My name.
At that word, an inexplicable emotion welled up inside me.
"I don't understand humans."
"......."
"I don't get why you took a hundred thousand lives and killed the master you loved right in front of us."
"...Then why do you keep coming? To watch me die?"
To my still-sharp voice, Seria replied expressionlessly.
"...No, just... it's weird. A mass-murdering demon who slayed the Demon King... and carried us all out, even though we were injured?"
"......"
"Just weird. My instincts are sharp—something's off. Can't explain it. Here."
She slowly handed me a hard lump of white bread.
"Eat."
"...Hey, I killed your clan—"
"So what? Honestly, I always thought those old fogeys could drop dead."
"......."
After that day, Seria never came back to the dungeon.
"...Ah, my dear Hero. It's such a shame to part like this..."
Aileen eyed me stickily, but when I glared silently, she stomped my face with her heel.
"...Hah? Think leaving prison changes anything? You're still trash. A worm. Or... oh? Planning to kill me too? Without your aura, you think you can?"
"......."
Silent, under the guards' escort, I completed my full sentence—two years and six months—and walked free.
A free man, completely.
No hatred for the world.
In a few months, the curse magic would lift, and people's minds would realign with the truth.
What would the compensation be? Probably massive, on an imperial scale. My companions and everyone who knew me would be too ashamed to face me.
Fine by me. All good...
"...Fuck."
I just hated this empire so damn much now.
Rummaging through my pockets, I found four gold coins in my old clothes.
I called over a coachman running from afar and slowly boarded the carriage.
"Yes, sir. Where to?"
"......As far as possible."
"...Pardon?"
Silent, I pressed two gold coins into the coachman's hand.
"...With this, go as far as you can. As far away as possible."