The Breaking Dawn
Stories stretched past their welcome inevitably unravel into a mess. I knew that truth in my bones.
Amid the aftermath of madness, the tempest of steel, and the slaughterhouse feast of blood, the thought that ridiculously surfaced in my mind was of a serialized magazine novel I used to read as a boy—one whose authors dragged it out to milk its popularity until it dissolved into a tattered, incoherent wreck. That pathetic story was no different from me.
I was the Hero. I had been saddled with the sacred duty of slaying the Demon King, and so I fought. I possessed no innate genius, no extraordinary martial gift, save for a single cruel providence: whenever I died, I regressed into the past. Armed with nothing else, I threw my life against the Demon King again and again. After dying more times than I cared to count, I finally severed his neck and believed I had earned my eternal rest. Yet here I was, dragged back out onto the field for another war I wanted no part in.
I stared toward the battlements. A citadel of pitch black welcomed my gaze. The fortress of Grandis—Corps Commander to the Demon King and the continent's most infamous witch—bristled with jagged, needle-sharp spires that seemed to mirror her venomous temperament. Crows circled in the sky, gathering one by one in anticipation of fresh carrion, while the heavens turned the dreary gray of cold ash. I twisted my lips into a bitter sneer.
A heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder from behind.
"Your head in the game?"
Stepping around to face me was my comrade and the continent's strongest swordmaster, Sein Luderan.
"Once we finish her off, the Demon King's remnants are gone for good. Stay focused, Einzel."
Without warning, she hooked a hand behind my neck and pulled my forehead against hers. Her fierce, crimson eyes locked dead onto mine.
"She's on the loose because of you, which means you have to be the one to clean it up. Right? When we were crushing the demon army, you were the one who suddenly insisted on letting her run."
"Yeah."
I had no choice but to offer that simple answer.
"The Empire even trusted you enough to name you Supreme Commander for this campaign. It'll cause problems if you betray that trust again. Got it?"
I wasn't stupid enough to start a philosophical debate over whether being saddled with the title of Supreme Commander was proof of genuine trust or a convenient trap to dispose of me, so I simply nodded. Satisfied—or perhaps indifferent—she turned and walked away, her fiery crimson hair billowing in the wind.
Once Sein disappeared into the ranks, I tightened my grip on the Holy Sword. Feeling my pulse match the thrum of the military band's war drums, I stared into the polished steel—a blade that felt less like a weapon and more like a set of shackles forged into the shape of a sword.
I scrutinized the hollow stranger looking back at me, disconnected from my own flesh, until the sharp clatter of armored boots shattered my concentration.
Through the rhythmic clanking marched an escort clad head-to-toe in shimmering silver plate: the royal guard of Fairy King Tereon Tirentus.
Fucking knife-ears. It mortified me to remember how captivated I had been by their otherworldly grace when I first laid eyes on them. Back then, I hadn't known what rotten bastards lurked beneath that pristine skin. Still, personal disdain aside, their combat prowess was leagues beyond ordinary mortals, proving that the Fairy King considered Grandis's subjugation a matter of supreme importance.
They halted before me, and the blond elf at the front offered a slight bow.
"Greetings. We pay our respects to the Hero of the continent. We understand you have been appointed Supreme Commander for this war."
He appeared to be their captain. Miraculously, he actually spoke with polite deference to a mortal like me—no doubt mindful of the temper of the woman who had brought them.
"Cut the crap."
Right on cue, her sharp voice cut through the air.
Lena Tirentus. Princess of the fairies, the greatest archer on the continent, and my companion.
She scowled as she stepped forward.
"He's the Hero, so you ought to show him basic courtesy, but don't go groveling. I'm still pissed at him."
I bit my tongue. She was clearly still harboring a grudge from our argument when I tried to refuse marching out for this war.
Lena ruffled her golden hair in frustration and jabbed a finger at my chest.
"You make sure you take that bitch's head this time. That's the only way you'll restore your reputation as the Hero. I went out of my way to beg Father for his personal guard, so losing isn't an option. Got it?"
I offered an empty nod. Prestige and reputation meant nothing to me anymore.
Besides, while they called me the Supreme Commander, I had been thoroughly frozen out of every strategic council. And if it came down to sheer martial might, my companions were far stronger than me anyway.
Sensing my apathy, Lena ordered the guards to fall into rank, then rounded on me once more.
"Pull yourself together! How else do you expect the people—or my father—to take you seriously? Fight like you're going to shut the mouths of every bastard who sneered at you for being a human commoner! Stop making that pathetic funeral face. What kind of morale do you think the troops are going to have when their Supreme Commander looks like death warmed over?"
Her sharp words snapped my real purpose back into focus. I was never meant to lead armies; I had been made Supreme Commander to serve as a glorified mascot, a lucky charm to rally the men. As Lena stalked off toward her unit, I cleared my mind and cast an amplification spell.
"Soldiers! Can you hear me!"
"Sir!" a thunderous roar answered from the vanguard.
"We stand before this fortress today to strike down the witch! Do you know why?!"
Drawing air deep into my lungs, I bellowed across the ranks.
"Because our families, our brothers, and our dearest friends yearn for it! Because they dread falling into her cruel grasp! Because they fear that this remnant commander will inflict upon them the very same agony and loss that the Demon King once wrought! We may bleed before that witch! We may perish! Men die far more easily than we care to admit! And yet, we marched onto this battlefield knowing the cost! Why?! Because we refuse to let our children inherit the terror we have known!"
Slaying Grandis wouldn't banish fear from the world. But killing her would grant the empire a fleeting respite, an excuse to forget their dread for a little while, and these soldiers had marched here to claim that fragile peace.
And it was my duty to grant these men—who staked their lives on that brief tranquility—the courage to stand, to fight, and to survive.
Even in a war I despised, once a role was thrust upon me, I carried it out. That was all I had done ever since the day I took up the Holy Sword.
Catching my breath, I roared one last rallying cry.
"The blood we shed today will nourish our children tomorrow! The lives we lay down will forge the bedrock of a better world!"
Bound by the name of Hero, I had no choice but to fight again today.
Behind me, a tempest of ash and dust whipped through the air as the gates of the Raven Citadel groaned open.
"...Do your best to stay alive, men."
Muttering the quiet prayer under my breath, I turned around.
The Black Witch was glaring straight at me.
With the crisp click of her heels, Grandis strolled past the threshold. The sensual silhouette draped in her black gown immediately drew the eyes of the men, but what commanded my attention was the suffocating, lethal malice rolling off her frame. For a long while, our eyes remained locked in silence.
"Haah... honestly, I will never understand why humans are so profoundly stupid."
Breaking the silence, Grandis lit her long pipe with a flicker of black flame.
"You already killed the Demon King, yet what is it you're still so anxious about? Every single one of you is trembling like a cornered rat."
She shifted her gaze directly onto me.
"Especially those high-and-mighty nobles standing behind you, Sir Hero. They seem terrified out of their wits, don't they?"
The corner of her mouth curled upward into a mocking smirk.
"Really now... if you're so terrified, the least you could do is keep a proper watch. Ah, I see. It isn't me they're actually worried about, is it?"
"...?"
I tilted my head, failing to grasp her meaning, but she ignored my confusion and pressed on.
"You march into battle assuming you've already won... Well, fine. Allow me to teach you the price of complacency."
A chilling smile split her lips.
Rotting hands burst from the earth below, seizing the soldiers by the ankles.
An ambush.
Damn it, I knew it. The high-command tacticians had idiotically assumed Grandis would hole up inside her fortress like a sitting duck.
Ghouls and zombies tore into the front ranks, ripping flesh with their teeth.
"Snap out of it! Hold the line and strike them down one by one!"
I recast the amplification spell and roared the command, but panic had already gutted our formation. Screaming men swung blindly, hacking down their own comrades in the frantic melee. Only the few who kept their wits managed to put down the undead clawing at their legs.
Then, salvation descended.
A colossal radiance bathed the entire battlefield.
"Beatrice, is it...?" Grandis murmured.
Brilliant golden light—as dazzling as if the caster's own platinum-silver radiance had dissolved into pure holy power—swept over the ground, reducing the undead to ash upon contact.
"To weave a miracle of such scale... she truly is worthy of the Hero's party that felled the Demon King. But it isn't nearly enough."
Grandis drew in a deep breath.
"Cover your ears!"
Recognizing the spell in her throat, I screamed at the top of my lungs.
But the amplification spell had already run out.
A deafening, unholy shriek washed over the army, driving men mad where they stood. Soldiers collapsed to their knees clutching their ears, while others lost their minds entirely, eyes rolling back as they turned their weapons on their comrades.
"Dammit!"
"Goodness... surely you didn't forget this trick of mine? Or did you know it was coming and simply fail to prepare?"
Frenzied soldiers slaughtered the men beside them, butchering the very comrades they had marched with moments ago.
Watching the carnage she had orchestrated, Grandis chuckled softly.
"No, it's not that you couldn't prepare. You chose not to. Or perhaps... your allies simply don't trust you? Or maybe the feeling of camaraderie was strictly one-sided all along?"
A plume of fragrant smoke puffed from her lips.
I grimaced. I had known her face for decades across loops, but it was still impossible to decipher what thoughts churned behind those eyes, or what poison hid in her casual taunts. Giving up on unraveling her words, I drew my blade and began cutting down the thralls who had been our soldiers moments before.
A hand seized my shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Sein demanded.
"It's dark magic that hijacks anyone with weak mental fortitude! If we don't put them down right now, the entire army gets slaughtered!"
I shouted back at her. Sein's brow furrowed in sudden fury.
"Fuck, she has a spell like that?! What the hell were the tacticians doing?!"
"How the fuck should I know?! I briefed them on every single spell Grandis uses, and they still let this happen!"
"Shit! Cut down the thralls, quick!"
Sein barked the order, and together we began ruthlessly executing the berserk soldiers.
Even as Sein hurled curses at the headquarters staff from a few paces away, I couldn't help but silently agree with every profanity she spat. All the while, Grandis lobbed curses and bolts of black sorcery into our ranks.
"Fufu, how utterly pathetic. Desperately butchering the very comrades you swore to protect."
Grandis laughed, but we ignored her mockery and focused on thinning the thralls until barely any remained standing.
Right then—
"Well now, we've weeded out the chaff. Shall we begin in earnest?"
A thunderous, earth-shaking tread began to echo across the field.