The Breaking Dawn
"Get up, you bastard."
I grabbed the black-robed man by the collar and hauled him roughly to his feet.
"To think... the Hero... would be such an overwhelmingly powerful dark mage..."
"You're the dark mage," I replied coldly. "I'm just using dark magic."
"Ha... Trampling us underfoot with a corpse golem, and you have the gall to claim you're not one of us? Don't make me laugh."
I glanced indifferently at the discarded heap of shredded flesh as it crumbled into gray ash.
"Well, wielding Holy Power doesn't automatically make someone a priest, does it?"
"What kind of absurd nonsense is that..."
"Save your breath and answer my question. Why did you ambush me?"
"We thought you, the Hero, would make a priceless specimen. We believed that dissecting the flesh of a Hero stripped of his Holy Sword would bring us one step closer to the ultimate truth. When the Empire claimed you conspired with the demon race, we refused to believe it. But seeing this ghastly display, I'd believe you truly colluded with the—"
"You talk too much."
I tilted my head, letting the vertebrae in my neck pop with a sharp, dull crunch.
"So it wasn't the Empire, just some clueless bastards getting cocky? What, a specimen? Sure, my body has its uses... but your logic is fundamentally flawed."
I probed inward, sensing the dark mana left behind by the Demon King that lay dormant in the depths of my flesh. If value was the metric, a living human possessing the singular essence of the Demon King's dark mana was infinitely more precious than any former Hero.
"Not that it's any of my concern. It's just pathetic that amateurs who can't even harness dark mana properly thought they could hunt me down."
"..."
The man in the black robe bit his lip until blood nearly welled.
"Enough chatter. Lead me to your hideout—unless you'd rather experience what it feels like to be raised as a mindless zombie."
Tsk. It was about time the Empire dispatched pursuers after me. That sly fox of an Emperor was hardly the type to leave me in peace.
I wasn't particularly terrified of death, but dying at the hands of that pompous bastard's lackeys was certainly not to my taste.
I followed the robed figure deeper into the dense forest, casting one last glance at the forest pond behind us. Blood from the strewn corpses had trickled down the bank, staining the clear water a murky, festering crimson. That pond would likely never wash clean again.
Cutting through the thick undergrowth brought us before a cavern. Its gaping maw loomed in the shadows, radiating a suffocating, sinister gloom.
Filthy dark mages. They always pick shitholes that match their own ugly temperaments.
Inside, an unnatural, impenetrable darkness blanketed every corner, swallowing whatever daylight lingered at the entrance. The robed man trudged forward through the murk, and I followed on his heels. Passing through an eerie, clinging mist of shadow, we came face to face with a massive pair of doors.
"Th-this is our stronghold."
"Yeah. Good work."
"Guh—! Wh-what are you...?"
I snapped his neck in a single fluid motion. Leaving him sprawled on the ground with a ghastly, contorted sneer frozen on his face, I turned my attention to the gate.
The doors themselves were fashioned from ordinary, heavy timber, yet their surfaces were densely engraved with demonic sigils—specifically motifs honoring the Demon King. I was well aware that dark mages revered the Demon King as an object of divine worship, but seeing his grotesque emblems plastered across their front door drew a weary sigh from my chest.
I placed a palm flat against the wood. The lock was clearly designed to respond only to an influx of refined dark mana. Channeling a thin stream through my fingertips, I traced an inverted pentagram across the grain. The carved head of a black lion groaned as its jaws unhinged, and the heavy doors slowly swung inward.
Now then, let's see what kind of filth you've stashed away.
I ran my tongue across my parched lips and stepped across the threshold.
The daughter of the Fairy King had arrived.
The news rippled through the Holy Land like wildfire, prompting the Saintess, sovereign guardian of the sacred ground, to personally welcome the foreign princess.
"Welcome, Second Star of the Tyrentus Kingdom. I am Beatrice, Saintess of the Goddess Religion."
"Greetings, Saintess of humanity. I am Lena, proud princess of the fairies."
"I did not expect the Fairy King to dispatch his own beloved daughter to join the expedition against the Demon King. I was led to believe His Majesty doted on you above all others."
"You need not fret. Among the warriors of our realm, none in my generation can match my bow."
"Indeed. We must offer our deepest gratitude to the Fairy King, then."
The golden-haired fairy twirled a shimmering lock of hair around her finger, her emerald gaze drifting past the priestess.
"May I see the Hero right away?"
"R-right away? Surely it would be better to rest first—"
"No. The Hero is not merely a student I must instruct; he is a comrade I must fight alongside for a very long time. It is best that we take each other's measure as early as possible."
"Well... if that is your wish."
There was little reason to refuse when she phrased it as an eagerness to meet her fellow warrior.
And so, the blonde fairy was escorted to a training chamber, where she found a dark-haired boy sprawled out on the stone floor, completely drained after a grueling lecture on magic.
"...She looks just like a fairy..." the boy mumbled in a daze. He closed his grimoire and nearly let his head smack against the floor before scrambling back upright. "Wait... a real fairy?"
His dark eyes went wide with pure astonishment.
"A-are you really a fairy?"
Lena quietly looked down at the disheveled youth. Then, she let out a bright, unrestrained snort of laughter.
"That's right. I'm Lena, Princess of Tyrentus and the master who will be teaching you archery from today on. You're the Hero, aren't you? Nice to meet you, human."
"Ah, yes, yes! My name is Einzel."
Einzel gazed at Lena with an earnest, pounding heart. In the storybooks he had read as a child, fairies were ethereal, wondrous beings who worked miraculous marvels and brought blessings wherever they walked. Even as his spirit was slowly being worn raw under the suffocating weight of his duties, that fragile spark of childhood wonder had not yet died.
A fairy as a comrade... Maybe, just maybe, this is the very first good thing to happen since I was chosen as the Hero.
Lena offered him an amused smirk.
"Well, I came by to get a look at the face of the guy I'll be stuck with, and you're cuter than I expected. Now that I've seen you, I'm heading out."
Einzel watched her retreating figure with wide, captivated eyes until she turned the corridor corner.
The moment she was out of sight, however, an elven attendant who had been following in Lena's shadow strode forward. He seized Einzel's arm with bruising, iron-like force.
"Listen well, human. Do not even dream of being insolent toward Her Highness. Hero or not, a lowborn creature like you has no right to treat noble blood with familiarity. Do you understand me?"
Confronted by that chilling glare and the hostility dripping from every syllable, Einzel could only manage a numb, reflex nod.
"Good. At least you have ears to hear. You would do well to remember your place. If you dare overstep your boundaries, not even the title of Hero will save you from retribution."
The elf released his grip and strode away without looking back.
Einzel stared at the empty doorway, paralyzed by a shock far different from the awe he had felt just moments before. Beneath his sleeve, his forearm throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
Dawn broke over the sanctuary, and a maid hired by the Holy Land pushed open the door to Einzel's quarters to begin her morning cleaning.
The instant the latch clicked, blinding light flared across the threshold and an ear-splitting magical klaxon shattered the silence. Countless alarm wards and defensive barriers, woven tightly across every wall and windowsill, detonated into active vigilance. It was an extreme defensive perimeter that belonged on the frontline of a war zone—not in the bedroom of a boy.
The Hero leaped from his sheets in a flash, blade drawn, heaving ragged, panicked breaths.
"Wh-what is it?!"
Einzel's bloodshot eyes locked onto the terrified servant.
"I-I'm so sorry! I only came in to tidy up the room..."
The maid trembled uncontrollably, cowering before the naked steel leveled straight at her throat. Einzel slowly lowered the sword, but his stance remained rigid, every tendon drawn taut as a bowstring while he kept several paces of distance between them.
"...I'll clean it myself. Just... please leave."
"Y-yes, right away!"
The maid fled down the hallway as if pursued by a demon, slamming the door shut behind her. Einzel collapsed heavily onto the edge of the mattress.
"...Look at you. What a pathetic mess..."
Suspecting every approaching presence had become a sick, involuntary reflex. He genuinely felt his mind slipping toward madness. The intricate maze of defensive wards choking the room was something he had exhausted every last scrap of his mana to erect the previous night, immediately after Peria had taught him the theoretical formulas.
To think that after finally learning higher magic, this was the first practical application he devised.
Disgusted by his own paranoia, he fell backward onto the pillows and pulled the heavy blanket entirely over his head.
"What kind of glory or riches am I even chasing to put myself through this hell?"
A suffocating wave of cynicism settled over him like lead.
Even so, when the designated hour arrived, he dragged himself out of bed. Starting today, his archery lessons were to begin alongside his martial drills. What would it be like to learn the bow from a genuine fairy?
Until recently, he had been a nobody who could never have dreamed of standing in the presence of such illustrious figures, yet everything about the fairies remained foreign and daunting. The memory of the attendant who had cornered him flashed unbidden in his thoughts.
He had always believed fairies were gentle, benevolent guardians who protected the innocent, just like in the legends. But the moment those fingers had dug into his arm, he had been brutally reminded that fairies were merely another mortal race walking this harsh world—capable of venomous arrogance, capable of malice, and entirely capable of despising him.
Einzel rubbed his forearm absentmindedly. The phantom ache where he had been gripped lingered like a stain.
"So, how much do you actually know about bows?"
Lena asked, circling him with light, predatory steps in the open courtyard.
Einzel blinked, holding the wooden practice bow awkwardly.
"...A weapon used to strike down enemies from a distance...?"
Lena barked out a laugh.
"Sure, it strikes from range. But you missed the most vital part. A bow is a weapon meant to strike from a distance without the enemy ever realizing it."
She reached over, pinched her own bowstring, and released it with a crisp twang.
"If all you cared about was raw destructive force or distant reach, a bow would be a terrible choice. Magic outclasses it in every conceivable metric. The true, irreplaceable advantage of archery is that there is zero delay when you make your move."
Einzel tightened his fingers around the grip.
"Magic and divine miracles require incantations, geometric formulas, and channeling time. But a bow? You draw the shaft, nock it, and let go. That's all it takes. And that simplicity grants an overwhelming tactical edge. You can snipe targets before they even comprehend they are being hunted. Even in a direct clash, *you* hold the power to dictate the exact tempo of the engagement, guaranteeing you seize the initiative.
"That's why a bow achieves its greatest lethal potential when supporting your primary assault. While your decisive technique is being readied, swift arrows disrupt the opponent's rhythm, stripping away their ability to mount a proper defense."
Lena gave him a sharp, wicked grin.
"You said you're learning magic, right? That's perfect. If you plant a few shafts into an enemy's vitals to keep them flailing while you weave a high-tier spell, even a demon commander will soil themselves, won't they?"
"Ah... yes."
Such an approach had never occurred to him. Though forced to swallow every conceivable martial discipline, he had always treated them as isolated, alternating tools. Synthesizing them into an interconnected style of warfare had felt impossibly far away.
"All right, enough lecture. We're getting down to business—but before we start, look right here."
Einzel turned his gaze toward her face.
Whoosh!
A clenched fist was already whistling straight toward the bridge of his nose.