Hero (5)
"..."
*Sigh*
Ascaros let out a sigh as he noticed Beril repeatedly glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
"You've been peeking at me nonstop. If you have something to say, just say it."
"Eh! Ah, that is..."
Beril flinched in surprise, then looked at Ascaros and spoke.
"If... if I offended you, I'm sorry."
Tsk.
Ascaros clicked his tongue inwardly. He could roughly guess why Beril kept glancing his way.
It must be fascinating. A skeleton with a sense of self.
But what came out of Beril's mouth was something Ascaros hadn't expected.
"I heard that when I was out of my mind, I was rude to you. I'm truly sorry. I wanted to apologize in person, but I lacked the courage. I've been fidgeting ever since. Once again, I'm really sorry."
"..."
Ascaros was momentarily speechless as he watched Beril bow his head.
He hadn't started learning black magic, which was steeped in evil from the beginning.
At first, his teachers had wanted to take him as a disciple upon seeing his talent.
But when they realized his talent was far beyond expectations, their attitudes shifted.
Instead of teaching him, they began to shun him, blinded by envy and jealousy, even spreading baseless rumors.
It hadn't taken long for the praise of "genius" to twist into the curse of "monster."
That was how he'd grown fed up with humans.
Ascaros felt a swirl of complex emotions at Beril's sincere apology.
"...It's nothing."
He muttered lowly.
Hearing the loneliness in his voice, Beril looked even more remorseful.
"But still..."
"I said it's fine."
A hint of irritation crept into Ascaros's voice.
Beril's genuine apology dredged up memories of the past, leaving him displeased.
What if they had apologized instead of sealing him away? Would everything have been different?
One thing was certain—he probably would have forgiven them back then.
After all, he'd truly revered them as his masters.
But apologies were so hard for them. Even knowing the truth, they hounded him to the end and sealed him away.
"It's all in the past anyway. What I did back then was just to protect my master. It's all over now, so no apology is needed."
At his words, Beril quietly bowed his head, unable to say more.
Just then, footsteps approached, and Astra walked in.
"Ascaros, let's go."
Astra's voice was the same as before, yet somehow different.
Yes, if before it had been a chilling charisma that exuded overwhelming pressure, now it radiated the tyrannical aura of a despot who crushed everything beneath him.
Another growth spurt, I see.
Ascaros marveled inwardly.
"Understood, Master."
Ascaros bowed his head in response.
His gaze briefly flicked to Beril before he melted into Astra's shadow.
"Beril, you should head out too."
"Eh? Already?"
"Give me a discount on this."
"Aigoo, why? You know these aren't in season right now—they're scarce. This is already a good price."
A typical market scene in Darkteria.
A middle-aged female demon was haggling with a male demon.
The woman held a fruit glowing faintly red, and the man eyed it greedily.
"Come on, May, I'm a regular."
The male demon pleaded familiarly, calling her by name.
"I don't care who you are—pay full price."
May, the woman called, shook her head firmly.
"Aw, really? How about buy two, get one free?"
"No. Prices have skyrocketed lately..."
Their bickering continued, while nearby merchants chattered and watched.
"May's got backbone, as always."
"Of course. How else could she open her own shop? Never seen a demon as tough as her."
May was quite famous in this market.
A few years ago, she'd suddenly appeared and boldly approached a shop owner.
"Hire me. No pay needed—just feed me. I'll earn more than your food costs."
Everyone had laughed at first.
What stray is this, talking big?
But May worked from dawn till dusk without rest.
Even when her nails split and bled, or her back felt like it would snap under heavy loads, she never stopped.
While others rested, she cleaned the shop; when no customers were around, she memorized the inventory.
So she could answer any question flawlessly.
Impressed by her tenacity, the owner hired her officially.
True to her word, she brought in several times the food's worth.
Now, she was a proud shop owner with her own place.
Once the haggling ended, a neighboring shop owner approached her.
"You're something else, May. I'd cave and give a little off if they kept begging."
"Discounting cheapens the value of my labor."
May's voice was resolute.
"But you've made a fortune, right?"
May's expression turned somewhat forlorn.
"Money is scary. Scary enough to make someone abandon their family... So you have to earn as much as you can while you can. To avoid that."
"Uh, y-yeah."
The owner hastily excused himself, and May watched his retreating back, thinking to herself.
He must've run off because we had no money. Abandoning me.
She always wondered.
Why had her father abandoned her? He'd loved and cherished her so much—why that choice?
His warm touch, the bedtime stories, sharing his own portion when she was hungry... all that love...
Was it all fake?
No.
The love was real.
But there was something even that love couldn't overcome.
Money.
Money was a terrifying force that could shatter even love.
May still remembered those harsh times vividly.
The hunger after he left—days without food.
The shivering nights. Desperate struggles rummaging through trash in abandoned alleys just to survive.
All of it had sharpened her, made her stronger.
I can't settle for this. I need to climb higher. Higher.
That was when it happened.
Someone approached her stall. She looked up to greet the customer—and froze in shock.
"May..."
"D-Dad...?"
Her father stood before her, unchanged from the last time she'd seen him off.
Despite the years, his appearance was identical, shocking her further.
But her words weren't welcoming.
"Why are you back? What, now that your daughter's making money? Come for cash? I'm over forty now. I don't need a father."
Beril just gazed at his daughter.
Her sharp words pierced his heart, but he knew he deserved it.
"I'm sorry..."
"What? Sorry?"
That snapped her reason.
"Sorry for what exactly! Do you know how hard it was for me... because of you! I didn't even need that money! I just... I just needed a father!"
May collapsed to the ground.
Beril approached his now-older daughter and pulled her into an embrace.
Her face bore scars and wrinkles from hardship, but he could still see the little girl within.
"I'm... truly sorry. So sorry. But I never abandoned you. I always wanted to see you! How could I ever..."
May burst into childlike sobs in her father's arms.
Decades of resentment and longing poured out at once.
"Why... why come back now..."
Her choked question prompted Beril to hold her tighter.
"I'm sorry... truly sorry..."
Astra, watching, turned away immediately.
That's enough, right?
He nodded at Frost Flower's words.
"Yeah. He won't need or want any more help. Beril."
"Master, are we heading to Frostheim now?"
Ascaros emerged from the shadow and asked quietly.
"Yes. No reason to stay here any longer."
In a spacious room, a man savored his wine with a grin.
"Kukuku... So those bandit scum are all dead?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Even those barbarians have their uses."
He was Alberto, heir to the Elterion Kingdom.
His blond hair, pale skin, and blood-red eyes accentuated his madness.
"Why do trash like them grovel to me?"
He had a peculiar taste: fresh blood straight from the living.
The smell, the feel—everything about it thrilled him.
So he'd occasionally hunt at night—abandoned children, adults, useless kingdom folk—killing them for their blood.
But one hunt went wrong: he mistakenly targeted a noble's daughter. While burying her in the mountains to hide it, the bandits caught him.
"We'll keep this quiet for money—or we'll spread it everywhere."
The bandit leader's threat was simple but deadly.
Against lesser nobles, he'd have ignored it. But her family was the "Golden Count."
Allied with the kingdom and controlling its purse strings—an vital figure.
Grinding his teeth, Alberto had no choice but to comply.
But the bandits' demands escalated.
From a few gold coins to jewels and even parts of his territory.
These vermin...
Finally, he decided.
Just kill them all.
So he commissioned the mercenary guild—under the guise of bandit extermination. No intention of paying, of course.
"Ah, you're dismissed. I have business soon."
The reporting knight left, and he prepared for another "hunt."
BAM!
The knight burst back in, voice trembling.
"Your Highness! The m-mercenary... he's demanding payment straight from His Majesty!"
"...What?"
Alberto's wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.