Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue
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Humans.
Compared to other races, a terribly frail species.
If you go by averages, there aren't many races with specs inferior to humans.
They don't have the sturdy bodies of orcs, the magical talents of elves, or the masterful craftsmanship of dwarves.
Yet, strangely enough, the world revolves around humans.
Excluding the demon continent ruled by the demonkin, humans boast the highest number of nations. Roughly speaking, they occupy about 70% of the continent.
Even if other races have no ambitions and aim only for a modest life, you'd think the human average would make you tilt your head in confusion—but I see it differently.
That's right. Humans are the ultimate battle race!
No other race experiences internal wars as frequently. At most, it's palace intrigues among royalty or nobility.
But humans? Different story. Why do tactics and strategy even exist? To defend against powerful other races? To survive the demon king's revivals and the seasons of evil?
No. All wrong.
The real reason: to fight other humans!
Royal or imperial power struggles are annual events.
Every decade, massive wars erupt between nations.
Unlike other races, who might clash once every few decades with maybe a few hundred fighters, humans go big—tens of thousands is child's play, and even hundreds of thousands isn't impressive!
Rarely, to prevent a continental hegemony, kingdoms ally and hurl a million troops at each other. That's humans for you.
But that's not the only reason I claim humans have the DNA of a battle race.
"Last one!"
-Kuoooooh!
The scene before my eyes. A black-scaled black dragon let out a roar of agony.
Dragons.
The undisputed strongest race on earth.
Even greater demons in their prime hesitate to fight them, and the mighty demonkin of the demon continent fear them. Elves who live hundreds or thousands of years can't outlast them by age alone. They're called the pinnacle of magic, the strongest beings alive.
And such a creature was howling in pain, dying.
At the hands of a mere human, no less.
Not that it was a young dragon, either.
A thousand years.
Time enough for a nation to rise, fall, repeat, and perish.
Only after that long does the term "hatchling"—marking dragon childhood—fade from their lives.
In human terms, it's like finishing kindergarten, past the "000-child" phase. Still too green to discuss adulthood; hell, not even close.
Yet this black dragon before me was an ancient evil dragon, infamous even among dragons.
Put simply, a beast who'd spent at least ten thousand years building its power—a real fighter by dragon standards.
By contrast, the one beating it senseless was human. Young, too. Barely twenty.
Dragons count adulthood at a minimum twenty thousand years, so even conservatively, this black dragon had lived at least a thousand times longer than the human pummeling it.
Dragons sleep away half their lives, but still—losing like this defies logic.
Yet here it was happening, and I could only watch in silence.
That's right.
The world's strongest race was getting its soul beaten out of it by someone a thousand times its junior!
That's how it is! Beating down ancient dragons and demon kings alike, like the legendary Super Saiyans from Dragon Ball! Deep in human DNA slumbers the mythical power of the Hero!
"Hero..."
The princess from a neighboring kingdom—kidnapped by this ancient dragon, the very cause of its beating—was shedding tears of感動.
Hah, what is this? A scene straight out of a children's fairy tale!
Why curse this ancient dragon for faithfully playing the villain extra in some generic kids' story when it had nothing better to do? Or should I curse the Hero for effortlessly crushing a foe no one could possibly beat, shattering all balance?
'Hang in there, black dragon!'
I wanted to cry like the princess beside me, but I couldn't. Instead, sweating bullets down my back, I silently cheered for the black dragon.
I'd orchestrated this whole thing to turn the Hero into a hospital case—shove him in the imperial capital hospital or some church order—and slip away in the chaos!
You think I'd voluntarily scout enemy territory, pinpoint the dragon's lair, and drag the Hero here for fun?
-I... I, Arketiga, to die by a mere human's hand!
'No, don't!'
But despite my hopes, Arketiga met the classic fairy-tale end and collapsed.
The Hero—who'd achieved an absurd feat no human, no other race, could fathom—withdrew his dragon-piercing sword and approached me, bowing politely.
"It was just as you said, Master."
"No. That was all your own power."
"No, I—urk?!"
"Hero!"
The Hero's denial was cut short, as expected in any children's fairy tale: the neighboring princess rushed in, tears streaming, throwing herself at him.
Watching the Hero fluster—far from his usual stoic self, like back in his childhood days—I muttered, still drenched in cold sweat I couldn't wipe away.
"Damn it..."
What? Why sweat when my disciple the Hero won? What's the problem?
Oh, there is one. Because I...
Am a former villain.