A Demon Warrior's Terrible Luck
These days, my luck has been absolute shit.
Rebekah, the demon warrior. She had purple hair, a smattering of small freckles across her face, and features that weren't ugly but could hardly be called beautiful—an unremarkable appearance. Yet apart from those plain looks, Rebekah had recently begun to suspect that she had been born under a truly cursed fate.
Her skills as a warrior had earned her a place in the regular demon army, but the moment she learned which unit she'd been assigned to, one phrase immediately flashed through her mind.
I'm so fucked...
The commander of her unit wasn't the renowned demon general she'd hoped for—someone like Samson or Saul. No, it was the human hero, Elan Savior. The man who had once belonged to the hero party sent to assassinate Her Majesty the Demon King, only to submit to her overwhelming might and become her subordinate.
Rebekah was one of the soldiers drafted to serve under that hero in this war. On top of that, out of a hundred comrades, she alone had been ordered to act as his adjutant. A commander who couldn't be trusted—an unknown quantity who might have a dragon coiled inside his heart, for all she knew. Rumors claimed he possessed considerable combat strength but was greedy for achievements, and that he might sacrifice every last soldier under his command if it meant claiming more glory.
The fact that someone like that—someone she couldn't place even a shred of faith in—had become her superior... and that she had been assigned as the adjutant forced to stand right beside him... It all made a single lament echo automatically through Rebekah's head.
I didn't even do anything wrong... How did my life end up like this?
A superior from another race, followed by nothing but ugly rumors. And as if that weren't enough, yesterday's strategy meeting had saddled him with the vanguard position—the most honorable role, but also the most lethally dangerous. The result? Rebekah now stood at the absolute front lines with an unreliable commander right in front of her.
In this godawful situation, she had half-resigned herself from the moment the advance began. She had steeled her heart to simply accept whatever fate had in store... which was why, at this exact moment, she naturally assumed she was going to die with one hundred percent certainty.
The countless rain of arrows filling her vision. As she watched that deadly downpour streaking across the sky toward them, Rebekah began to think that this would be her grave.
This is exactly the kind of situation where it's acceptable to say, "Fuck."
A sharp pang of regret washed over her at the thought of falling without even swinging her sword once. With an expression that said I knew it would end like this, Rebekah prepared to accept death.
But then—
"All troops, lower your heads."
"?"
The hero's calm voice cut through the chaos. Rebekah and the others wondered what good that would do, but they obeyed and ducked their heads anyway.
Right after—
-Flash!
"!"
A sudden burst of black light. Even with their heads down, the intense black radiance was impossible to miss. It sent a jolt of shock through Rebekah and every soldier around her.
And the moment that black light vanished and they looked up again, they saw the hero standing there—having erased every last arrow that had been hurtling toward them just seconds earlier.
As he displayed power far beyond anything they had imagined and continued marching forward as if nothing had happened, Rebekah and the others were frozen in astonishment and confusion.
"!"
"Damn it, magic this time!"
Another enemy attack came rushing in. The incoming spells carried even more destructive force than the previous arrow barrage. Rebekah and the soldiers began to picture their inevitable deaths once more.
But then—
"!"
"H-Hero, sir?!"
The hero leaped lightly toward the oncoming magic. Pure horror flooded Rebekah's face. For a split second she even wondered if he was trying to kill himself.
Yet what followed shattered that assumption. As if mocking her prediction, the hero swung his sword at the storm of magic pouring down on them.
Then—
-KABOOOOOM!!!
A deafening explosion rang out. The immense wave of magical power unleashed from the hero's blade completely obliterated the incoming spells, wiping them from existence.
"This... what the hell..."
"I knew he was strong, but I never imagined it was this bad..."
Rebekah and the soldiers stared in blank amazement at the hero's overwhelming strike. Looking at their dazed faces, he spoke in the same perfectly calm voice as if nothing unusual had occurred.
"What are you all standing around for? Advance at once. We can't keep the rear units waiting."
"Y-yes? Ah... Y-yes, sir!"
Snapped out of their stupor by the hero's firm command, the soldiers resumed their charge. They understood that this was their chance—the enemy's attacks had thinned thanks to the hero's efforts.
For some reason their bodies felt strangely light as the demons poured everything they had into the assault on Antioch alongside the hero.
As she moved with her comrades, Rebekah suddenly realized something.
Wait... did the hero just protect us?
He had erased that massive onslaught with a single swing of his sword. Someone with that much power wouldn't have been in any real danger from mere arrows or spells. A defensive barrier or evasion technique would have let him ignore them effortlessly.
Yet he had deliberately swung his blade and used overwhelming force to annihilate every attack headed toward the spot where Rebekah and the soldiers stood.
She didn't know the full extent of the hero's power, but the strike he had just unleashed was clearly extraordinary. If aimed properly, it might have even shattered the castle gates. Instead, the human hero had chosen to use that strength not for personal glory, but to shield his subordinates—the very demon soldiers now serving under him.
Realizing this, Rebekah began to wonder if her previous judgment of the hero had been completely wrong.
Maybe... he's a better person than I thought.
The being charging toward them—the figure in black armor wielding a massive greatsword—began to crush the Antioch soldiers' morale into the dirt.
"Th-the Demon King...?"
"That monster is here..."
"We're finished. If even the hero couldn't defeat that thing, what chance do we have?!"
The soldiers spat out raw, unfiltered despair. Watching them, even General Pharisect felt a heavy dread settle over him.
The Demon King, of all possible enemies... Has the strongest foe of the entire racial alliance appeared before us? Damn it... Why does such rotten luck always fall on me?
Against any other opponent he might have held out hope, but even Pharisect could only feel utter despair at the Demon King's arrival. The Empire's Three Generals could each fight with the strength of an entire legion, yet even they stood no chance in single combat against this ultimate monster. Only the hero was said to be capable of facing the Demon King one-on-one—and that hero had already been sent to the afterlife long ago.
The fact that such a being was now rushing straight at him with weapon drawn was terrifying enough on its own. Still, Pharisect fought to regain his composure and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"What are you doing?! Shoot! Keep attacking until that bastard drops dead!"
His voice tore through the air as he barely swallowed his fear. The soldiers tried to force themselves to nock arrows and raise their staves once more.
But...
"U... uuu..."
At that moment, they could barely hold their weapons properly. The overwhelming terror gripping their hearts—the certainty that no attack they could muster would work against the Demon King, combined with the primal fear of the death now approaching them—made every soldier want to turn tail and flee.
Watching his men frozen in abject despair, General Pharisect reached the grim conclusion that only extreme measures would work.
And those measures were—
"GRAAAAAGH!!!!"
"Eek!"
"Huk!"
In the next instant, the head of one soldier flew off, severed by Pharisect's sword. The sight of their comrade collapsing in a fountain of blood hit the others like a bucket of ice water. Pharisect spoke to them in a voice as cold as steel.
"If we retreat from here, every one of us will die in ways far more horrible than this. So choose. Will you die by my hand right now, or will you fight for justice in the name of the racial alliance until the very end?!"
Covered in blood and roaring with absolute resolve, Pharisect's actions forced the panicked soldiers to pull themselves together.
"W-we have to stop the enemy!"
"We have nowhere left to run anyway!"
"Unfortunately, it's too late."
"!?"
"Huk!"
A cold voice suddenly rang out. The faces of Pharisect and every soldier present drained of all color.
At some point, a figure had appeared among them. The embodiment of terror clad in black armor and wielding a black greatsword... The Demon King stood there.