Betrayal

Rian was leaning against a tree, taking a short rest.

Sunlight filtered down through the dense canopy of leaves.

"......"

His head kept drooping little by little. His mind held no thoughts, but sleep crept up on him all the same, heedless of his will.

He was on the very edge of surrendering to an irresistible drowsiness when—

Piiiing! Piiiing!

The sudden, shrill alarm jolted him fully awake. With an irritated expression, Rian reached into his breast pocket.

The Communication Magic Tool. The moment he pressed the button at its center, the sound died away and a mission directive came through.

The transmission ended. He rubbed his eyes and rose to his feet, but every time he tried to open them, they kept slipping shut again.

"...When was the last time I got a proper rest?"

How many days had it been since he'd last lain down in a bed?

His body was stiff, and a ringing hum filled his ears. His whole body was screaming at him, from head to toe, that it wanted to rest.

But he couldn't afford to simply laze around.

Dealing with the endless threats and problems that lined the Kadema Kingdom was Rian's job. If he allowed himself even the smallest reprieve, the work would pile up in no time—and when work went unhandled, people died.

"Tired, sure... but eh, I can rest once it's all over."

He'd made a promise directly with the king. Work for exactly ten years, then retire.

Nine and a half years had already passed since the day he swore that oath. The end was nearly in sight—only a few days remained until the term expired.

Two days to travel from here to the dwarf kingdom, plus the time needed to subdue Valtan.

This mission would be his final task.

"Whew..."

Just a little longer. Just this one last time.

With his resolve steeled, Rian kicked off the ground. His footsteps blurred, and in an instant his body vanished beyond the horizon.

"...This cannot be."

The ancient demonic beast Valtan spoke as though he could not believe it. A massive hole had been punched clean through his chest.

"That I would be defeated by a mere human?! It cannot—!!"

Before the words could even finish—

Shff!

The sword traced a clean arc. Green blood sprayed from his neck, and the face frozen in astonishment tumbled across the ground.

Ancient Great Demon. Ruler of the Underground. Terror of the Dwarves. Watcher of the Abyss.

For a great evil who had borne so many infamous titles, it was a truly wretched end.

Click.

Rian sheathed his sword in silence, his face worn with fatigue.

He had single-handedly destroyed a calamity that had reigned as the absolute sovereign of the subterranean world for thousands of years.

It was a feat that would be praised for all eternity—yet nothing of the kind showed on his face.

"Rian! Are you all right, lad? If you're alive, say something!"

A voice echoed from the distance, searching for him.

Valtan had been one of the most formidable opponents Rian had ever faced—not an enemy who left him any room to watch over others mid-battle.

He'd had no choice but to keep everyone else away.

Those waiting far off had waited in agonizing suspense, and when the battle ended and silence fell, they had apparently mistaken it for his defeat.

"I'm fine! You can come out now!"

Shedding his weariness, Rian shouted loudly. A single dwarf who had been hiding in a burrow came scrambling over.

His beard was a tangled mess and his face was smeared with rock dust, but one should never judge by appearances.

Red Beard Copper. He was, by no small measure, one of the finest master craftsmen among all dwarves.

"Is it over? Is it finished?"

"Yes. It's done. I made certain of the kill, so you needn't worry anymore."

Rian extended a hand and pointed toward Valtan. Copper walked toward the corpse as though spellbound.

He met eyes with the pupils that had lost their light along with their life.

Only then, perhaps, did the death of Valtan become real to him. He offered his thanks.

"Thank you! You are the savior of our whole race! Do you have any idea how many of our kin that damned creature has devoured over the years?"

Emotion welled up in him, and he kept sniffing and rubbing his nose.

"If it weren't for you, we'd never have escaped being his prey for the rest of our lives. Our children's generation, and their children's too—we'd have lived in fear of the dark our whole lives and ended as nothing more than one of his meals. Thank you. Truly, thank you..."

"......"

Rian said nothing. These were a people who had lived as prey for their species' entire history.

It was hard to find any words of comfort.

"Ahem—look at me, rambling on like this. Here I have my savior standing before me, and all I've talked about is myself. Must be old age; my emotions get the better of me now and then.... Give me a few days. I'll throw you the grandest festival you've ever seen!!"

Copper said with an embarrassed grin. Rian let out a low hum.

"Hmm... I'm grateful, but I'll have to decline. There's something urgent I need to take care of."

Copper's eyes went wide with shock.

"What on earth are you saying? Surely you're not planning to leave right now?!"

"Haha..."

The words that followed were faint, but that laugh said everything. Copper could not hide his bewilderment.

"You haven't even rested, have you! You're wounded, and you fought three days and nights without sleep. You're leaving without so much as taking a breather??"

Rian understood that the duties of the Hero of Kadema Kingdom were heavy, and that his schedule was mercilessly packed. But still—wasn't this going a bit too far?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"It's not like that. You see, my contract with the kingdom ended with this mission. I simply have something urgent to attend to."

"Hmm... still, after saving our entire race, to receive nothing at all..."

"I did it as an agent of the kingdom. The kingdom's already receiving its promised compensation, isn't it?"

"That's true, but... still..."

The wrinkles on Copper's face deepened.

"Well then, send word once the restoration work is finished. The place needs quite a bit of repairing anyway, doesn't it?"

The subterranean city, built deep beneath the roots of the mountains.

Formed from the pinnacle of dwarven stonecraft and architecture fused into one, the city itself was closer to a single, colossal work of art.

But now, in the aftermath of the battle with Valtan, most of it lay in ruins, its original form all but lost.

"That's true enough."

"Send word when the reconstruction is done, and I swear I'll come—even if I have to push aside every other obligation I have."

"Good. Then... you're leaving now, are you?"

"Yes. I'll be on my way shortly."

At those words, Copper nodded—then suddenly bowed his head low.

"Let me say it once more. Thank you, truly. For saving our people."

Rian hurriedly raised him back up, and Copper blurted out what leapt to his lips.

"And I couldn't even thank you properly, at that."

"You've already thanked me plenty."

"Agh, well then, I'll be off. The sooner I bring the artisans here, the sooner we can restore this place. You'd best hurry on your way too, lad."

With that, Copper turned and vanished back into the burrow, and Rian watched him go before leaving the subterranean city behind.

Tat! Tat!

With every leap, the landscape shifted in a blur. He was heading for the capital of the kingdom.

His face still looked exhausted, but a faint smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Saving a person's life always stirs something deep in the heart.

Even when the body aches and the spirit wears thin, even when the work ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he's handed is work he can't stand.

It wasn't solely because of his oath that Rian kept serving as the Hero. This, too, was part of the reason.

If he had run all this way with nothing but a promise to look at—no pay, no reward, no meaning beyond it—he'd have collapsed long ago.

"Come to think of it..."

Rian's eyes deepened. The battle with Valtan had dragged on longer than expected, and as of yesterday, the ten years of his oath had come to an end.

The appointed hour had arrived. Now it was time to collect the price of his devotion.

That alone had been the light he'd fixed his gaze upon as he ran for ten long years.

Rest was best taken only after everything had been brought to a proper close. It sat easier on the heart that way.

Having pushed himself without pause, he reached his destination before he knew it.

Rian passed through the capital's lively streets and arrived at the royal palace.

His last visit had been eight years ago, and the palace had changed considerably from what he remembered.

The once-sparse gardens were now strewn everywhere with statues and ornamental works.

Inside the palace, the walls were lined with paintings, crafted wonders, and rare treasures on display.

A stray thought surfaced—wasn't this extravagance getting out of hand?—but he quickly brushed it away.

After all, the kingdom was enjoying unprecedented peace and prosperity, and luxury itself was proof of a nation's flourishing power.

He walked down the corridor and arrived at the audience chamber. He addressed the knight standing guard at the door.

"I must have an audience with His Majesty."

"...Very well."

After a short silence, the knight nodded and went inside. Rian tilted his head.

...Something's off.

He looked displeased, somehow.

But it was, after all, nothing more than an unfounded hunch. Rian didn't think much of it.

A short while later, the knight emerged, and Rian moved to step into the audience chamber—

Chunk.

A spear tip barred his path.

"His Majesty's orders are to wait. He is not yet ready."

"...I see."

He stood waiting at the door. He hadn't expected it to take long, but the wait stretched far beyond his expectations.

Only after nearly two full hours did permission finally come for him to enter.

Before any exchange of words, Rian first dropped to one knee.

"Rian, the Hero, greets His Majesty Emil, sky of the kingdom."

"Mm. It's been a while, hasn't it? Five years or so?"

"Eight years since we last met, Your Majesty. You have... changed a great deal."

Raising his head, Rian looked at Emil. Eight years apart. The change in him was striking even accounting for a man entering his middle years. It wasn't only age.

The once-crisp line of his jaw had vanished without a trace, his clothes hung loose by three full sizes, and the throne that had once sat roomy about him now looked cramped.

Sipping at the tea a handmaiden had poured, Emil spoke.

"Eight years, has it? Well, everyone changes with time. So—what brings you here of all days?"

Rian cleared his throat and spoke.

"Do you remember? The promise you made with me ten years ago."

He recalled his first meeting with the king. The image of him saying: Work for the kingdom—no more, no less, exactly ten years—and I will grant your wish.

"I kept my promise. Now it is Your Majesty's turn. Declare the expedition into the Demonic Realm."

The Demon King. Humanity's most powerful enemy, dwelling deep within the Demonic Realm at the far northern edge of the continent.

...And the invader who had stolen everything from him—his friends, his family, his whole world.

He was fifteen. When demons raided his village, he lost everything and survived alone. Weeping before the cold corpses, he made his vow.

I will cut off the Demon King's head and put their souls to rest. No matter what.

Over the span of days, he buried every last one of them, then fled his hometown. With a single sword in hand and nothing in his heart but the will to grow strong, he wandered the breadth of the kingdom.

Fortunately, he had been blessed with extraordinary talent, and he grew at a staggering pace—

But no matter how formidable one's strength, there are limits to what a single person can do.

The Demonic Realm was a hell teeming with demonic beasts and demons without end. Enemies poured forth in a ceaseless tide, and the vast land itself was saturated with Demonic Energy, making magical supply lines and long-range transport magic impossible.

Charging blindly into the Demonic Realm was no different from a moth flinging itself into flame.

Killing the Demon King would require supplies and manpower on a truly colossal scale. Born a subject of Kadema Kingdom, Rian had desperately needed the crown's backing.

That was the whole reason he had served the kingdom for ten years. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Back then, the nation had been mired in poverty, and a grand undertaking like the Demon King's subjugation had been beyond even dreaming.

But now, things were different.

In mere years, Kadema Kingdom had risen with explosive growth into the ranks of the great powers. That was not an achievement any ruler could manage on talent alone.

It had been possible because Rian—one of the mightiest men on the entire continent—had served the kingdom without rest, without pay.

He had given the kingdom more than double what was promised. Now it was time to receive the price of that devotion.

And yet—

"Huh?"

The king's face scrunched up in an ugly scowl, as if he'd just heard something utterly absurd.

"Slay the Demon King? What nonsense are you spouting?"

"...I beg your pardon?"

Rian echoed the words in a daze. Nonsense?

He remembered it clearly. No more, no less—exactly ten years. The king's own words: once the nation grew strong, he would raise an expedition to the Demonic Realm.

So why was the man suddenly speaking as if he'd never heard of it?

"Don't tell me you took that talk we had ten years ago for a promise? I only said it offhand—you were a boy chasing a dream, and I couldn't very well crush it under my heel! A man your age ought to face reality. Tch. How long do you intend to live trapped in empty hope...?"

Rian flared up and shouted.

"Empty hope? It's entirely possible! Why do you think the Demon King holes himself up in the Demonic Realm and only sends out his underlings? And if you never intended to grant my wish, then what did I fight for? Why did I serve this kingdom at all? I gave it ten years! Since the day I met you at eighteen, I poured every year of my youth into this—for this very moment!!"

His emotions surged, and his voice rose.

"I never received a single thing in return! Because I believed in the promise! Because I believed that at the end of this road, the fruit of the expedition into the Demonic Realm was waiting for me!!"

He stared at Emil through warped, twisted eyes. As king of a nation, the man had a duty to keep the words that had left his own mouth.

But—

"Ha? What rubbish is this? No compensation, you say? You were treated as a hero everywhere you went, honored as an honored guest. Didn't you drink your fill of the people's admiration? We let you enjoy luxuries no commoner could ever dream of—and now you're saying you never thought of that and were expecting some special reward?"

Rian's mouth hung slightly open. It was absurd sophistry. The one spouting nonsense wasn't Rian—it was Emil.

"Pull yourself together. It's been over ten years since the demons invaded our lands. Not just our kingdom—the neighboring nations too. The entire east of the continent, they won't even glance at. And now you want me to declare war on the Demon King? Right now, while we enjoy a peace unlike any before it? You're telling me to pluck the whiskers of a sleeping lion, now? Hm? Does that sound like sense to you?!"

Emil raised his voice in turn. On his face, as he looked down at Rian, was a contempt he couldn't be bothered to hide.

"You should have tempered your wisdom along with your strength! You're nothing but a fool who never grew up!"

Only then did Rian understand.

'Young man, I beg you—work for the sake of the kingdom. True, our nation is weak now, and an expedition to the Demonic Realm is beyond even dreaming... but should the country grow strong enough, I promise I will see your goal fulfilled.'

Even on that day ten years ago, when the king had stood before Rian—at the height of his fame even then—and gravely entreated him with impossible terms, promising the Demon King's head—

"...It was all a lie, from the very beginning."

He had never intended to keep it.

Rian bowed his head. He clenched his teeth and his fists. He squeezed so hard that his nails bit into his palms, and blood dripped down, drop by drop.

Then, from somewhere deep in his chest, killing intent began to boil up.

'...Should I just kill him?'

The man had deceived him for ten years with a promise he never meant to keep. Revenge would be justice.

He'd surrendered his weapon at the entrance and come in empty-handed, but incapacitating the royal guard and killing the king was more than possible barehanded. If he couldn't manage that much, he'd never have survived a decade of Hero's missions. It was simple enough that the whole affair would take less than ten seconds.

But—

Rian had no choice but to loosen his fists.

An unprepared king's death would invite a flood of blood. No successor had yet been named to inherit the throne.

Worse, for all his cruelty, this was a king publicly hailed as a wise and virtuous ruler. Kill him carelessly, and the entire kingdom would be plunged into chaos.

The price of failing to restrain a single moment of emotion was simply too great. The faces of the people who would suffer for his one wrong choice flashed before his eyes.

"......"

In the end, Rian could say nothing, biting down hard and swallowing his rage with all his strength—

—and Emil, seeing his silence, took it for acceptance and rose from the throne, turning away.

"In any case, spare me the lunacy and go home. Your nonsense has given me a headache of my own; I need to rest."

"Tch. Go back and wait for your next order."

Rian watched his retreating back with dark eyes—then turned away.

A handmaiden carried the empty teacups out of the audience chamber. Walking down the corridor, she turned left at the point where the passage forked in two.

It was a strange thing to do. Her job was to deliver the teacups to the kitchen, and the kitchen lay to the right at the fork she had just passed.

Had she genuinely taken a wrong turn, she would have noticed at once and doubled back—but she didn't change direction. She walked on for several more minutes until she reached the handmaidens' quarters.

Abandoning her duties mid-shift to wander back to her room at will. If she were caught, she'd answer to the head maid.

But it didn't matter. This was far more important than any performance review.

Her true profession was not handmaiden. It was spy.

She confirmed no one was nearby, then reached for the bookshelf. Second book from the top shelf. Third from the third shelf.

Then the first book from the very bottom shelf. She drew them out in sequence and stacked them together, and the pattern inscribed atop the pile began to glow as a voice echoed out.

The voice was laced with sleep, and an irritation she couldn't be bothered to conceal soaked through every syllable.

The handmaiden knew perfectly well what hours the woman kept. She also knew just how much the Director despised having her sleep interrupted.

But she had no choice. Not with this matter.

"...A rift has opened between the Hero and the King."

"......"

A brief silence. Then, several seconds later—

CRASH!!

The sound of something toppling heavily rang out from the other side of the magic tool. The sound of someone rolling out of bed.

The handmaiden pretended not to hear it. A short while later, a voice came through the device, suddenly wide awake and urgent.

"Wh-what did you say? Say that again."

She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swallowed and began a detailed account.

"Combat strength unmeasurable. Approach prohibited. A serious conflict has arisen between the Hero Rian and Kadema Kingdom. Based on the circumstances, we assess that some prior arrangement between them has ruptured..."

All before the most powerful figure in the Imperial Cabinet, the undisputed head of the Drakess Empire's Central Intelligence Bureau—

Director Khalifa herself.