The Former Hero Liam
The first thing Liam saw when he opened his eyes was a spirit — a hazy, indistinct figure hanging in the air before him.
"So. You've awakened."
"...Kbalt."
One of the Demon King's Four Heavenly Kings — a creature he and Clitia had cut down together — now stood before him, whole and unharmed. How was this even possible? Thrown by a situation he couldn't begin to comprehend, Liam reached for his sword.
"Do not move."
The moment Kbalt spoke, a deathly chill rolled off him, and Liam's body locked in place. His arms and legs refused to so much as twitch. It was the same sensation as being bound by dark magic.
"What the hell did you do to me?"
"Watch your tongue as well. And the question you ought to be asking yourself is quite another matter."
Kbalt smiled, dark and lingering, and drifted closer.
"Go on. Ask me how you came back to life."
Only then did Liam remember — the final instant, his skull splitting beneath the Demon King's blow. And in the same breath, he understood exactly what he had become.
"How... was I brought back to life?"
His mouth moved of its own accord. An undead's duty: obey the master's command.
"A masterpiece. Hero — you shall serve as my thrall for all eternity."
Rage surged up Liam's throat. He couldn't hold it back.
"Yes, Master."
But his treacherous mouth danced to a will that was not his own.
"That face of yours. Are you angry? The ones with a right to grievance are your companions, not you. Did they not all die pointless deaths because their fool of a hero neglected his training?"
A charge he couldn't refute. The words twisted in his chest like a blade.
Because of me...
His limbs began to tremble. Guilt erupted through him, shaking him to the core. Why had he lived like that — so recklessly, so wastefully? The memory of those dissipated years, a life of indulgence he had never been prepared to answer for, filled him with shame.
"You're shaking. Do you regret it now? How foolish. Even if you repent, your companions will not return."
Liam's head sank.
I'm sorry.
If he could only see them again, he would drop to his knees and beg their forgiveness. Clitia most of all — Clitia, who had always been at his side, scolding him, looking after a hero who hadn't deserved it.
"What happened to Clitia?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it. Of all his companions, she would have held on the longest.
"The Saintess, you mean. A rather charming woman, wasn't she. Do you truly not know what becomes of a human like that when she loses a battle?"
A reality too wretched to face. The guilt grew thicker still.
"His Majesty the Demon King is not ordinarily given to such things — and yet this time, he dragged the unconscious Saintess back to his castle."
Kbalt chuckled under his breath, as though sharing a particularly amusing anecdote.
"By now I imagine she's being violated as we speak — cursing your name, resenting you with every breath. How fitting."
The cold mockery went on. Liam didn't react.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
He just kept apologizing, over and over, inside his own head. To a Clitia he would never see again.
"We've wasted enough time on chatter. Stand. Go look in the mirror."
His legs moved on their own and carried him to the tall mirror hanging on the wall.
"...Ah."
Half a skull. Half his original face. A grotesque visage he could barely stand to look at.
"Do you see clearly now what you are? You are a Death Knight — and the progenitor of the Corpse Locusts."
Liam decided to accept it. It was a fitting end for a pathetic excuse of a hero.
"Loyal undead. Go forth and devour the west."
"..."
"Answer me."
"Yes."
The defeated had no right to refuse.
From that day on, Liam was deployed to the Western Region, commanding countless subordinate Corpse Locusts. A tide of death, slowly swallowing the west. He took countless lives along the way, and with every death the miasma in his body thickened, and his mind warped a little further.
It was an endless torture — but he had no right to suffer. He was the sinner who had driven his companions to their deaths. So he cultivated vengeance instead. The Demon King who had murdered his party. The Goddess who had stood by and let the hero's party fall into peril. He kept those two flames burning in his chest, and he moved.
Years passed that way. Before long, most of the Western Region had become a nesting ground for Corpse Locust swarms. Even the guilt had gone numb. He simply moved like a golem, multiplying the walking dead.
"Hello there."
That was around the time he met Remiraen.
"I can give you your freedom."
A Public Enemy, offering help as if he were doing a kindness. It was suspicious — and not remotely appealing.
"Just kill me."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
A dark magic circle bloomed in the air at Remiraen's gesture.
"You have to live, and pay for what you've done."
Black light unfurled from the circle and wound around Liam's body. His mind and body lightened. He was freed, if only a little, from Kbalt's control.
"How does that feel? I haven't erased all of Kbalt's commands just yet — but I'll set you completely free one day. I promise."
"..."
"Is there anything you'd like to do?"
Liam shook his head. He had been living only because he couldn't die. What could he possibly want?
"Ah — did you know?"
A smiling voice issued from Remiraen's skull.
In that instant, rain fell on a heart that had gone dry and barren. A beautiful pink downpour.
I watched the two Liams standing face to face.
One wore armor of pitch black. Even standing still, miasma leaked from him and poisoned the air around him. The other wore silver. He only had to stand there, still as a statue, for the space around him to shine.
Opposing appearances. They had lived entirely different lives. The radiance of the paths they had walked could not have been more different — which was why I didn't expect a close fight. What chance did a hero reduced to a Death Knight have against a hero who had slain the Demon King?
"Hold on."
That was when Liam sent the miasma wreathing his body and his greatsword scattering into the air.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to compete with nothing but pure swordsmanship."
What was he thinking? It was as good as announcing he intended to lose.
"Are you serious?"
"I'm always serious."
The other world's Liam hesitated a moment, then held out his blade of Holy Power. The light wreathing the sword dimmed, just a little.
"Then I suppose I should cut back my Holy Power as much as I can, too."
Same idiot, different world. Their lives were on the line, and they were doing this.
"What's wrong with them?"
"Hmph. I do believe I understand why."
"What?"
I was still frowning over that when the two Liams charged. The greatsword swept in a massive arc — swordsmanship of crushing weight, ready to cleave through anything in its path. But his opponent was an awakened hero. The slender Holy Power blade caught the greatsword as if it weighed nothing. Monstrous strength, drawn from a body touched by divinity.
Liam strained with everything he had. The other Liam barely seemed to notice. The Holy Power blade, which had simply been holding, flicked the greatsword aside — and then it cut through him, almost gently.
"Give up."
One of Liam's hands came away. For a greatsword wielder, it was as good as a killing blow. The match was already over.
"It's not over."
Liam picked up the greatsword with his remaining hand. It was sheer bravado. Without the miasma's power, there was no way he could lift that blade one-handed.
"You know you can't win."
"So what."
Liam heaved the greatsword upright, barely.
"Clitia always used to tell me. A hero never gives up. Not until the very end."
I had said that. That much was true. I remembered shouting it at him in a fury, back when he'd fallen back mid-fight complaining he was tired. He hadn't even pretended to listen at the time. Why he was bringing it up now, I had no idea.
"Clitia. Liam means to meet his end not as an undead, but as a hero."
Logan explained from beside me, her face drawn in a frown.
"Does he not wish, at the last, to stand proud before you?"
The words Liam had spoken just before the Demon King killed him came back to me. I should have trained harder. I should have been stronger... I'm sorry. Perhaps he had already found a hero's heart, even then. A story that was about to stop meaning anything at all.
"Come on. I'll fight to the end."
The other world's Liam said nothing. He simply swung. Greatsword and Holy Power blade met again — but there was no contest of strength this time. The greatsword was knocked flying and buried itself in the ground beside them. And then the wrist that had been holding it was severed too. He had no arms left to hold a weapon.
"Not yet."
And still Liam tried to fight. Following the advice I had given him — never give up, not until the end.
The other world's Liam didn't tell him to give up again. He simply brought the Holy Power blade down. Both of Liam's knees were sliced away as if they were nothing. He couldn't even stand.
Now, truly, it was decided. The end of the undead who had turned the west into a land of death was at hand. But no one was glad of it.
"Let me have a last word."
The other world's Liam stepped back without a word. I walked over to the fallen Liam and crouched by his head. What was I supposed to say? Plenty of things came to mind. But I already knew what I had to say right now.
I praised him. It was probably the first time I ever had.
"You should have done this a long time ago."
The Goddess loves the efforts of those who admit their faults and try to do better. So I decided not to resent him.
"Why'd you have to show me a different side of yourself at the very end. Now I'm going to have regrets."
"...There's something I want to know."
Liam looked at me steadily with his one remaining eye. It was a gaze steeped in regret.
"If I'd gotten my act together while I was still alive... would you have accepted how I felt?"
"No."
I shut it down without hesitation. Even if he'd been noble from the start, I never would have accepted his feelings.
"Hearing you say that... I feel better."
He didn't seem particularly hurt. If anything, he looked relieved.
"Forgive me. I know I've got no right to ask. But I had to say it."
"...Goodbye."
I stood and stepped back, and the other world's Liam approached.
"Make it hurt. I don't deserve to die easy."
The Holy Power blade brightened again and came to rest above Liam's head. Facing his second death, Liam smiled — brightly. And so a hero prepared to meet his end.
"I don't think so."
A woman's voice rang out suddenly from the sky. I looked up. A Lich hung in the air.
Remiraen. A Public Enemy Lich, flying overhead.
"You..."
"And just where do you think you're going?"
Remiraen flicked his fingers in midair. A dark magic circle inscribed itself over Liam's body.
"I told you, didn't I? You pay for your sins while you're still alive."
Liam's body turned black. Something was about to happen. Something that was not going to be good.
"Happy?"
Liam hesitated at the voice addressing him. He couldn't think of what to say.
"I don't really know."
The answer he finally managed was a rather stupid one.
"You're going to drive me insane."
Clitia's face scrunched up — the expression she made when she was swallowing a surge of irritation. But then she smiled, just a little.
"Spend the rest of your life repenting. Think about the people who died because of you."
"I will."
Liam nodded hard. It reminded him of the old days — of being lectured every single day.
"Let's do better from here on."
Clitia gave his shoulder a couple of light pats and left the room.
"She smiled at me..."
A smile she had never once shown him before. The corners of his mouth pulled into a helpless, idiotic grin.
"I shall go mad."
Logan, seated upon a chair of ice, gave her head a weary shake.
"Logan."
"What is it."
"A mirror, if you would."
"Do you have any idea how many times this makes?"
Logan grumbled, but conjured a makeshift mirror of ice in the air all the same.
"Thanks."
Liam looked into the mirror. Blonde hair that fell to the shoulders. Blue eyes, and a complexion so fair it made the heart skip. A slender frame, though the chest rose in a soft, modest curve. The coloring was different, but it was the beautiful figure of Clitia all the same.
"Would you kindly stop smiling."
"I can't help it. It feels good."
Liam gazed into the mirror, lost in it, until a brilliant idea struck him.
"What if I asked Remiraen to graft just the lower half on — keep everything else like this?"
"Have you taken leave of your senses?"
At Logan's look of utter disgust, Liam grinned without a sound.
He was happy. It was more than a sinner deserved.