I Finally Slayed the Demon King, But Why the Hell Did I Regress?
I finally defeated the Demon King and escaped the yandere heroines. Or so I thought.
But instead of the peaceful ending I’d earned, I woke up back at the starting line. Regression. The same damn world, the same damn academy, the same damn faces staring at me like I was their long-lost treasure.
And then the message appeared.
The heroines have also regressed with their memories intact.
…Fuck.
I stared at the floating blue window until it faded, my stomach twisting into knots. This wasn’t some second-chance gift from the gods. This was a death sentence wrapped in pretty smiles and obsessive eyes.
In the first timeline, I’d barely survived their twisted love. I trained like a madman, pushed my body past every human limit, and eventually discovered the one weapon capable of ending the war in a single strike: the Jukchang. Brutal, honest, and terrifyingly effective. One thrust and even the Demon King had folded like wet paper.
But now they remembered everything.
That meant the obsessive stares, the sudden kidnappings, the love potions slipped into my tea, the way they’d cry and scream and threaten to burn the world if I so much as looked at another woman—all of it was coming back. And this time they knew exactly how strong I could become.
I rubbed my temples and let out a long, tired sigh.
“I just wanted to raise the actual hero properly, hand him the glory, and retire to a quiet countryside villa. Was that too much to ask?”
The academy bell rang in the distance, signaling the start of another semester. Students in crisp uniforms streamed across the marble courtyard, laughing and chatting as if the world hadn’t already ended once.
Among them, I could already feel three familiar presences locking onto me like heat-seeking missiles.
First came a soft voice that somehow managed to sound both angelic and dangerously unhinged.
“Elric… you’re here.”
I turned slowly. There she was—blonde hair glowing like spun sunlight, eyes the color of fresh blood. The saintess. In the last timeline she’d tried to lock me in a basement “for my own protection.” Her smile was radiant. Too radiant.
Behind her stood the second heroine, silver-haired and dressed in the imperial knight’s uniform. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, but her gaze was fixed entirely on me. The corners of her lips twitched upward in a way that screamed mine.
And then, leaning against a pillar with her arms crossed, the third one. Black hair, crimson eyes, and an expression that said she was already calculating how many people she’d have to kill to keep me by her side. The imperial princess.
All three of them remembered.
All three of them were already obsessed.
I took one step backward. They took three steps forward in perfect synchronization.
“Ladies,” I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace, “can we talk about this like civilized—”
“No,” the saintess whispered sweetly. “You ran away last time. Not again.”
The knight drew her blade an inch, the metallic hiss cutting through the morning air. “I trained for decades to be strong enough to protect you. I won’t let you slip away.”
The princess tilted her head, her voice low and velvet-soft. “Elric von Bandesahr. You belong to the empire. You belong to me.”
I exhaled through my nose.
Yeah. This was going to be hell.
But I wasn’t the same naive fool from the first loop. I had my Jukchang, my experience, and a very clear plan: train the useless protagonist until he could actually do his damn job, avoid every romantic flag like it was poisoned, and somehow survive the incoming yandere apocalypse.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
Because somewhere in the Demon Realm, a certain voluptuous ruler with elegant horns and a grudge the size of a mountain had also woken up with all her memories. And she was already muttering the same two words I’d been thinking since the moment I opened my eyes.
I could almost hear her arrogant, slightly paranoid voice echoing across dimensions.
The Demon King was back. The heroines were back. And every last one of them remembered exactly how I’d beaten them senseless with nothing but raw physical violence and an absurdly overpowered wooden training spear.
I cracked my neck, rolled my shoulders, and muttered under my breath.
“Fine. Round two it is.”
Time to remind them why they used to call me the Regressor Who Solved Everything With A Stick.
Even if it meant they’d fall even harder for me in the process.
…Shit. This really was going to be a problem.