Even So, I'll Slay the Demon King
It was the first time I had ever been left behind like this, stranded with nothing but the space where everyone else used to be. The voices of my companions—always so loud, always working themselves into some fresh hysteria—no longer reached me at all. All that remained beside me was the sound of the campfire burning itself down.
"What the hell am I supposed to do from here..."
I tossed another log onto the crackling fire. Night was closing in, and the dark had settled thick and heavy over everything.
When I looked toward the distant mountains, the outline of a pitch-black castle rose beyond them. The Demon King's Castle I had yearned after for so long stood caught in the moonlight, clear at last.
"Close enough to touch. And still not quite."
I reached out toward the far-off castle, as if I might close my hand around it. Half a day would have been more than enough to cover the distance.
"Hey. You really think you can pull this off without me?"
By now the Hero's Party, minus me, would have reached the Demon King's Castle. Maybe they had already taken the Demon King's head. Or maybe they had lost, and were already falling back.
I wasn't particularly worried. Those bastards had stubborn lives; they wouldn't die that easily.
"If the Demon King dies, maybe I'll go out to the country and take up farming."
They were my own words, and still they dragged a hollow laugh out of me. I simply couldn't picture myself farming. Me, standing in a rich field of golden rye, still wearing cursed equipment—it didn't fit the scene at all.
"Well. That's only if they actually succeed."
The Hero, Riel Ballenhart, was strong. True to the name of Sword Saint, she could cleave a mountain with a single swing. They didn't call her superhuman for nothing.
And the Archmage, Lapis Lazuli? Call a meteor down out of the sky, and she would sweep the Demon King's army away like a tide. She was lazy to the bone, but when she decided to work, she worked.
Even Iris, who cried at the drop of a hat, was the genuine article where recovery magic was concerned. So long as you still had a breath in you, she would find a way to drag you back. I had owed her my life more than once or twice.
Every one of them was extraordinary enough to turn the tide of a battlefield alone. And yet I couldn't picture them defeating the Demon King without me. My gut was already calling their defeat.
"For now, back to Artes."
Artes was the capital of the Valtein Kingdom, the nation we belonged to. I had pushed on without a moment's rest, and my body was in no state to speak of. The cursed gear needed repairs, too.
The treasures, travel supplies, and artifacts they had dumped on me as if tossing out the trash all needed sorting as well. Even now, right beside the tent, chests heaped with gold coins and jewels sat in rows.
"I'll have to get rid of these, too."
I hadn't even meant to follow them. They had left behind everything of value specifically so I couldn't. A single one of those chests could buy a manor in the royal capital without so much as straining.
"Severance pay, is that what this is..."
It was a trap, of a sort. Keep me guarding the gold and jewels, and I couldn't come after them. They had pinned me in place by exploiting how much I hated waste, and how thoroughly thrifty I was.
We had been companions for a long time. They knew me well. I had been poor at the start of the journey, and I still couldn't spend a single silver coin lightly. A man like that couldn't walk off and leave a fortune sitting unattended.
And so I couldn't simply pack it all and follow, they had taken every Subspace Pouch with them. Petty bastards.
"So that's why you left that behind."
I looked beside the tent I had pitched, and there sat a large wagon that hadn't been there before—roomy enough to load every last bit of the luggage.
"What a pointless courtesy."
The message was plain enough: use that, and take it all with you. If I made use of the wagon they had left behind like some grand favor, I could haul every piece. What had once been the party's shared property was now entirely mine.
As severance, it left nothing to be desired. My mood, however, did.
"Thanks to this, I won't have to worry about money until the day I die."
Haul it back to my estate in Artes, and my old age was secure. I might not look the part, but I held a noble title, granted in recognition of my service in the campaign against the Demon King's army. I wouldn't end up sitting on the roadside the way I had the day I first fell into this world.
"But you know something, you lot."
I looked at the Demon King's Castle—close enough to catch in my hand, and still slipping away. I couldn't quite say what my own face looked like just then. One thing, though, was certain.
It wasn't the face of a man in despair. For someone abandoned by his companions, I was far too alive, and the will to fight was burning in me.
"I can't just give up like this, you know? If only because I've been wronged, I'm going to kill the Demon King."
I'll show you I can do it alone. Without any of you.
Spend every coin I had gathered so far, and I could get as many cursed arms as I wanted. Properly refine the swordsmanship and magic I had picked up half-baked along the way, and challenging the Demon King would be worth the attempt.
The Hero Riel's swordsmanship didn't suit a body as ordinary as mine. The techniques I had cobbled together just to stay alive were crude beyond words. Learn from a real master, and I could grow stronger than I was now. Manage that, and slaying the Demon King would no longer be some empty dream.
"I don't hold any grudge against you. It just turned out this way. I've come all this way with my eyes on you alone."
Finding new companions and challenging him that way would have been the rational choice. But I had already been thrown away by my party once, and building another wasn't something I could do with a light heart. This time, I meant to go it alone from the very start.
Of course, every bit of that plan only worked if they failed to bring the Demon King down.
"What if my gut is wrong?"
A flicker of unease ran through me. If it was, I would have no choice but to plow the fields with a demon sword and take up farming after all.
"I'll think about that when I get there."
"It's been years since I last came back here."
I reached the estate in Artes, the royal capital, about a week after setting out. It was unmistakably my house, and yet nothing had ever felt more awkward. Most of my life had been spent in inns and campsites, so perhaps that was only natural.
I was just about to knock when a sound came from inside, and someone stepped out.
"Who... might you be...?"
A white-haired old man, the stiff and crotchety sort. Contrary to his looks, the suit he wore was immaculate. The moment those sharply narrowed eyes found me, they went round.
"Young Master Kyle, is that you? I was given to understand the final battle with the Demon King was imminent."
"Well, things just sort of ended up this way, old man Oswald."
Oswald was the butler who looked after the estate in my absence. At his question I scratched the back of my head, awkward. It was a meaningless gesture, but it seemed to set his imagination running; his expression darkened.
"Surely you were not... routed. And where are your other companions?"
Oswald glanced around, searching for my former party. Whenever I came back to the estate, those leeches had always clung to me. Their absence must have struck him as strange.
"And those things behind you... what on earth..."
His gaze shifted to the wagon I had hauled all this way. The load piled on it was enough to fill a small house.
"Oh, this? Call it something like my severance. It's a long story..."
When I let the sentence trail off, Oswald seemed to sense something in it, and he asked no more. The door gave a long, thin creak. He simply opened it with care and showed me in.
"You've kept the place well."
"It is an estate under this Oswald's care, after all."
The interior was modern, and immaculately kept. Everything was in order, and not a corner showed any want of cleaning. It was a small estate, and yet it was hard to believe a single butler had maintained it alone.
"This way, Young Master Kyle."
Oswald led me not to my room, but to the parlor. I had barely sat down before a cup of warm tea was set before me. How long had it been since I'd had a moment like this? I took in the fragrance once, then brought the cup to my lips.
"So. Which of the young ladies did you lay a hand on?"
I choked. Hot tea sprayed from my mouth and my nose.
"Cough—hack—what are you talking about?"
Somehow Butler Oswald was already seated across from me. Elbows on the table, chin propped on the back of his hand, he studied me with a steady, unblinking gaze—the look of an investigator grilling a suspect.
"Did you, perhaps, have a foot in two camps? Or three?"
Oswald's eyes turned faintly severe.
"Have you lost your mind, old man? At least say something that makes sense."
"If the young master had been driven out, I was quite certain that would be the reason. It seems I was mistaken."
"They're my companions. There's no way I'd lay a hand on them."
I frowned and downed what was left of the tea in one gulp. The cup hit the table with a sharp clack as I set it down hard.
"And they don't even like me."
There had been a time, not long after we set out to slay the Demon King, when my heart used to race. Back then I was a boy in the full flush of youth, and traveling with three beautiful girls was more than enough to set a young heart on fire.
Honestly, there were moments I wondered whether they liked me. We had been so close that I had wavered more than once. Only later did I realize it had all been a misunderstanding.
What woman in the world throws a hysterical fit at a man she actually likes? Ours had been a business relationship, plain and simple.
"What's with that face?"
Oswald's brow drew faintly together. He let out a deep sigh, as if he pitied me, then shook his head and looked at me with something like sorrow.