After Slaying the Demon King, I Retire
The black lightning struck like it was splitting Logan’s skull—boom!—right above his head. He rolled across the ground on instinct. Dirt flew up, his shoulder stung, but he had thrown his body down. Where the lightning had hit, only smoke remained. One single step. If he had been even a fraction slower, that last strike would have cut him clean in half.
Logan gasped for air. Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
“……Fuck, just die already.”
Logan spat the curse under his breath. The ground beneath his feet trembled. Shattered pieces of the castle wall rolled down, and the one-handed sword in his grip shook violently. Straight ahead stood the Demon King—a monster with hideous horns, twisted wings, and an endless torrent of black, fog-like mana pouring from its body. That very monster was now targeting the hero, Ethan.
“Ethan, how much longer until you’re ready?” Logan called out.
From behind him, a surge of light erupted. Ethan stood with both hands gripping the Holy Sword. Layer upon layer of pure white radiance was stacking along the blade.
“Just a little longer! You can’t let it interrupt me!”
Ethan’s voice trembled, but his eyes remained steady, locked solely on the Demon King.
“A little longer, he says…” Logan ground his teeth.
The Demon King had also realized Ethan was preparing something. Its terrifying gaze shifted toward the hero. Its maw split open, and it began chanting a spell whose shape could not be discerned.
[Grrrrrrrrr……]
Black mana gathered, forming a colossal spear. The very air around it seemed to collapse with an audible groan.
“……That can’t happen.”
Logan’s brain made the call first. Ethan’s casting time was slower than the Demon King’s attack. Riena was already wringing out every drop of her mana, but it didn’t seem to be gathering properly. Arien’s arm was injured; she couldn’t even lift her bow. Braga’s shield had been split in two, and the man himself was a bloody pulp, embedded in the wall.
“If Ethan gets interrupted, we’re all dead.”
Logan muttered the words like a sigh. Ethan refused to move, continuing to pour light into his sword. The only thing he could do now was finish this attack.
A monster standing in front. A hero preparing the final blow from behind.
“……Fuck it. Dying once or dying twice, what’s the difference?”
Even as he grumbled, his body was inching forward. Right before the Demon King’s spear finished forming, Logan took one deep breath. Air filled his lungs, his ribs throbbed, his legs tingled. One arm wouldn’t lift at all. Only the arm gripping the sword still obeyed his will completely.
The Demon King hurled the spear first. In Logan’s eyes, the projectile moved in slow motion.
Connect!!!!!
He swung his sword with every ounce of strength he possessed. The blade screamed—skreeeeeee!—then shattered. Cracks spread, it broke apart, and the fragments scattered. The impact raced up his arm, into his shoulder, his spine, all the way to his skull. Something inside his ear burst. Logan’s body flew backward. He slammed into a pillar, the rebound hurling him to the ground. His vision blurred. The earth and sky flipped; he could no longer tell which was up or down.
Ethan…
That was his last thought before darkness swallowed him.
Firelight flickered. Crackle. Crackle. The sound of burning firewood. It was a quiet night—no Demon King’s roar, no black mana.
“After we kill the Demon King……”
Someone’s voice reached him. Logan turned his head. Beyond the campfire sat Ethan. The face illuminated by the flames looked far less exhausted than it did now.
“What are you all going to do?” Ethan asked.
His voice was quiet, almost enough to snuff out the fire. He asked only once, but everyone understood the true meaning. To endure this hellish journey, each of them needed something to look toward—something to hold onto while they walked.
That night became a time to set their swords aside and simply talk.
“I’m going back to get married first,” Ethan said. “The princess is waiting. We made a promise.”
“Ugh……” Riena let out a deep sigh. Her long reddish-brown hair flowed softly in the campfire breeze. What couldn’t be hidden even by her violet robe drew every eye first. Two breasts that bounced with every breath, more prominent than the flames themselves, swayed gently. Between the skirt slit that rose all the way to her thigh, smooth legs shimmered subtly in the firelight. She pushed her large-brimmed witch hat back, took a sip of warm water, and spoke.
“So the hero really is taking the marriage route.”
“What about you?”
“Marriage? No way. I’m going back to the Magic Tower to do research. I’ll live creating higher-level, more difficult spells.”
Riena snorted.
“I’m—”
A short reply jumped across the fire. Arien Silbrea’s bright golden waves, tied half-up, swayed like flowing light in the campfire glow. Though considered short for an elf, her narrow waist and voluptuous curves were perfectly accentuated by her white-and-mint archer outfit. Thigh-high heeled boots. A translucent mint cloak flowing behind her. Even the fingertips drawing circles in the dirt beside the fire looked elegant.
“I’m returning to the World Tree. It’s too noisy here.”
There was no embellishment in her words. A simple, straightforward declaration that she would go back to the forest.
“What about Braga?” Ethan’s gaze moved past the fire.
Braga sat with his arms crossed, silent. True to his origins in the frozen north, his expression didn’t change even in front of the blazing flames. After a brief silence, he spoke in a steady voice.
“I’m heading north.”
Ethan blinked. Braga added concisely, “Snow, wind, mountains. That’s where I belong.”
“That’s all the explanation I get?”
“I said everything that needed to be said.”
While Ethan let out a dry laugh, the group’s eyes naturally turned to Logan.
“Then what about you?”
“Me?” Logan tossed another piece of firewood into the flames. The fire grew a little brighter. After we kill the Demon King. Honestly, he had never seriously thought about it. He could die tomorrow—why worry about the future? But everyone else had given an answer. Now it was his turn.
“Maybe I’ll build an academy……” The words left Logan’s mouth.
“An academy?” Ethan tilted his head. “That came out of nowhere.”
“I think so too,” Logan said, dragging a stick across the ground and drawing a long line. “I want to pass on the experience of killing the Demon King to the next generation.” He dotted several small points along the line. “For the talented ones who died, the ones who died because they lacked ability, the ones who want revenge on the demons—people like that.”
“Isn’t killing the Demon King the end?” Riena frowned.
“The future is uncertain,” Logan shrugged.
Ethan laughed. “Sounds good.”
“What does?”
“I———”
The flames rose higher. With the sound of cracking wood, Ethan’s figure gradually blurred.
“……Ugh.”
The smell that entered his nose woke him first. The scent of medicinal herbs, blood, and disinfectant. When he opened his eyes, a hazy white ceiling came into view. His eyes stung, so he closed one and opened it again. A voice came from above his head.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
A priest in white robes stood there.
“……Where am I?”
“This is the temple of the Alderan Kingdom.”
“I see.” Logan let out a short groan. When he tried to move his arm, a heavy pain followed. His arm, leg, ribs—none of them were completely fine. But they were still attached.
Arm and leg are both still there.
Confirming that made his breathing a little lighter.
“What about the Demon King?” he asked, his voice barely cooperating.
The priest smiled. “Hero Ethan brought back the Demon King’s head.”
“I see……” Logan turned his head. “Where’s Ethan?”
The priest spoke with a benevolent smile. “He was here until just a moment ago, but he was called away again. The kingdom won’t let a hero rest easy.”
Hero. Everyone would be calling Ethan that from now on. Logan exhaled. His body felt heavy. But he hadn’t died. The Demon King was dead. This war, at least, was over.
And after that…
The conversation they had shared around the campfire flashed through his mind. The mage returning to the Magic Tower. The elf returning to the forest. The barbarian returning to the north. The hero returning to the royal palace. And—
“The academy.”
Logan murmured quietly. The priest tilted his head.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Logan turned his gaze back to the ceiling. A place where children thrown onto the battlefield could learn to live like proper human beings before they ever set foot on it. A place that could turn those fated to die into those who would survive, and make the survivors even stronger. A place that would select people based on ability and talent regardless of status—people who, when the Demon King appeared, could do what he had done.
“Yeah.”
He bit his lip once, then released it. The Demon King was dead. The hero would begin a new life in the royal palace—cheers, banquets, rewards, the princess, marriage. That was now Ethan’s share. What remained were the supporting cast. People who had to return to their own places and stitch their lives back together.
Logan stared at the ceiling from his sickbed.
I’m going to retire.
The academy.
Now I’ll sit in a chair and work comfortably.
He began carefully planning the establishment of the academy.
First, I’ll squeeze as much money as possible out of the kingdom under the guise of investment… donations, sponsorships, investment for the future—anything I can attach to it will work.
Numbers danced in his head. Buildings, dormitories, training grounds, equipment, instructors.
If that’s still not enough…
Ethan’s face floated into his mind.
I’ll just have to pick the hero’s pocket. Honestly, my contribution to killing the Demon King was pretty big.
Logan closed his eyes under the wave of exhaustion.
The door to the dean’s office was knocked on twice, very carefully.
Knock. Knock.
He pressed the button on his desk to release the lock. The door opened slightly, and a woman entered with her head bowed deeply. She wore a gray dress covered in countless mended patches. The sleeves were frayed at the ends, and the backs of her hands looked rough.
“Hello, Dean……”
Her voice was very low. The woman lifted her head. Her facial features were neatly arranged. Black hair tied up tightly, trembling eyelashes. For a commoner, she had a face that caught the eye a little more than most.
She must be Layman’s mother.
His mouth felt slightly dry. This was the first time someone had come to him like this.
“You’re Layman’s… mother, correct?” His words came out a bit stiff.
The woman’s shoulders flinched.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Dark shadows hung heavily beneath her eyes. It looked like she had spent several sleepless nights agonizing over this.
“The admission results should have already been posted,” Logan said. Even he wasn’t sure whether he was speaking as the dean right now. His voice felt unnecessarily rigid compared to usual.
“I know.”
The woman took one more step forward, then suddenly bent at the waist. Thud. The clear sound of her forehead hitting the floor echoed. Logan’s fingers unconsciously gripped the documents before releasing them.
What the hell is this?
“Dean, I’m sorry.”
The woman’s voice seeped into the floor.
“Still… I came to ask just once. Just once.”
Her thin, dried-out shoulders trembled slightly. Through the thin fabric of her dress, the outline of her body was visible.
Ah… I’m screwed.
He had seen people kneel on the battlefield countless times—demon army soldiers begging for their lives, enemies surrendering. But what stood before him now was not that kind of scene.
“Please, I beg you. Please make sure our child doesn’t die.”
The woman’s voice grew increasingly watery.
“I’ll do anything… Please let our Layman study at Lumen Academy.”
The last words broke off in what was almost a sob.
Logan stared down at her in a daze.
What is this situation?
He had heard that their academy had become quite famous lately, but this was the first time someone had gone this far. Logan was genuinely flustered. A person was prostrating herself right in front of him, casting aside all pride to beg for her child’s life.
“First, please raise your head.”
Logan’s voice trembled slightly—enough for even him to notice. The woman didn’t rise immediately. She took one deep breath, then slowly lifted her face. A face that, for a commoner, was quite lovely.
Now that I look closely, she’s a little bit my type.
Logan met her eyes for several seconds before his gaze drifted to the dress clinging to her body. A plain dress with sleeves rolled up and hair tied roughly. It was the kind of cheap fabric you could find scattered across any market stall, yet his eyes kept being drawn to it. The hem of her skirt had ridden up slightly above her knees, and from her waist to her hips, a single bold curve jutted out.
When he felt the woman’s gaze on him, Logan snapped back to his senses.
I ended up staring too much without realizing it.
The woman knew exactly where his eyes had been fixed. She glanced at him once. The corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. Then she withdrew the hands that had been pressed to the floor and slowly crawled toward Logan from her prostrated position.
“If this is what the dean desires… the only thing I can offer is this body of mine.”
Her warm breath rose from below, gently heating Logan’s lower body.