The Demon King's Last Laugh
The realization hit like a thunderclap. "Fuck, he's down."
The man who had once radiated a murky, oppressive aura simply by standing there—the villain who had reveled in the suffering of others, who had laughed as they screamed curses at him, who had delighted in their desperate pleas for death. The one every race had called the Demon King. Now he was collapsing to the ground, spilling his own blood across the dirt.
"...There's no need to offer prayers for your death, Demon King. Just let yourself be crushed beneath the weight of your own sins."
The Saintess sensed the battle was over. She withdrew the pure white energy from her hands and stepped in front of the man.
"With this, no more elves or humans will have to suffer. Ever again. Your little games end here."
Still gripping her arrow, the elven woman scanned the fallen man with sharp, wary eyes, ready in case he tried to rise again.
"...And explain that disgusting smile of yours, Demon King."
A longsword dripping with black blood pressed against the Demon King's throat. The blade had already pierced his neck, yet the man showed no sign of stopping his laughter.
"The four of you... standing before me so proudly, as if you were complete... And the future ahead—it's just so exciting!"
"The future?"
He had been on the verge of death. He was the one who had screamed in despair when he realized he could no longer enjoy his twisted pleasures. Yet now, that same pitch-black gaze was filling with life once more. The three women couldn't help but flinch at the sheer force of his presence.
"Someone like you—an evil like you—will never get a second chance."
"Of course not. I've already lived far longer than I should have. But... it was worth it. Absolutely."
"If your goal was to turn your body into a bloody rag, then congratulations. Mission accomplished."
"You really don't understand anything, do you? Though I suppose that just proves how perfectly my sorcery worked."
"Sorcery?"
"It twists what one person thinks of another. How magnificent—how beautiful it is. That boy... Haah. If only he'd stayed in my grasp until the very end. I never imagined my beasts would tear him apart first. That's... truly a shame, isn't it?"
"You're just babbling nonsense now. What the hell are you even talking about?"
What had succeeded? What was so disappointing? Defeat? No. He was talking about something far more important. No way.
"That boy who got caught up in all this. That young man. The incredible one who reached my territory without a single Goddess's Blessing!"
"...You're talking about that repulsive man?"
"Eugh—ahahahahaha—! Repulsive? Repulsive! Hah, yes! Is he repulsive? Of course he is! Absolutely!"
Even in his mangled state, the Demon King twisted his body wildly as he burst into maniacal laughter. The sight burned itself into their minds—an image they would never forget. Right now, he looked like a truly mad villain. Later, he would become the horrific figure who mocked their own foolishness.
"Ahhh, what a shame! What a terrible waste. What if I'd tortured him, burned him, and dragged him before you? Wouldn't that have been perfect? Keeping him alive while he hated you with every fiber of his being? Or maybe crawling like a worm—ah, but my beasts already did that, didn't they?"
This man, spewing such horrific delusions with a mocking grin—what exactly was he? Evil incarnate? And yet, for some reason, those thoughts didn't fill them with the revulsion they should have. Not right now. For a moment, the three women even wondered if the end Woojin had met was exactly what he deserved.
That fleeting memory scraped across their minds like a blade, fueling a self-loathing so deep they wanted to die.
And when they had cut off the Demon King's head, his mocking expression was still vivid in their eyes. They hadn't understood it then.
But now they did. Because now, they were directing that same feeling at themselves without restraint.
*
"...Huuuam."
How long had he been asleep? The sun was... rising? Wait, what? Why is the sun up? How long did I sleep? How many days has it been? No, more importantly—why am I perfectly fine?
I didn't even start a fire. And keeping watch while sleeping—ah, right. Watch duty was always my job...
"That's right. The Demon King is dead."
That alien land, which had boasted such bizarre scenery despite being in the same world, was gone now. With every step, the screams that used to echo in his ears had vanished.
This was a world without the Demon King. A deep, empty forest.
Yes. He had come back to life.
"Tsk."
His stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl. He couldn't even guess how many days he'd gone without food, or how long he'd spent unconscious. One thing was certain—his body was demanding sustenance.
"No backpack..."
That day. The day he died. The day they drove him away. He'd definitely given them his bag. The journey was almost over, so they had to be careful, he'd said.
Wait a second. Thinking about it now, he'd been completely...
"I really was planning to die, wasn't I?"
And they had let him go anyway, knowing that? In a place crawling with danger, where he would be torn apart so horribly—
"Ha... Haa."
Even if he swung his sword, it wouldn't cut through that thick hide—
"Ugh... Uwaaah."
Even though he knew, even though he knew, he kept swinging—
"Ah... Aaaah."
Blood spraying. Bones exposed—
"Ugh... Uuuuh."
"Ugh. Uwaaaaah."
Screaming. Stomach being ripped open. Ah. Aaaah. I'm going to die. I'm really going to die. Alone. Here.
*
"...Ah."
When he came back to his senses, the sun was already hanging on the right side of the sky. Time had passed again. But he couldn't even begin to measure it. No calendar. No companions to tell him. If he lost consciousness here, there was no one to wake him. No—waking others had been his role. Losing consciousness wasn't supposed to be his job. Wait, what the hell was he even saying anymore?
"Okay. Get it together, Woojin. You're alone now. You died once. ...Hard to believe, but anyway! No companions. You're free. You can live however you want now!"
Even so... he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"Gurgle."
Ah. First, he needed to fill his stomach. Why did his mind feel like it was flickering in and out? The backpack? Oh. He'd given it to them. ...Enough. He had to find something to eat first. But before that... where was his sword?
*
"Ughhh—ha. Haa, damn it..."
Had this tree always been here? The sword was wedged so deeply into the trunk that it refused to budge. ...Better not think about how the sword got stuck here in the first place. He was pretty sure a panic attack had hit him. Maybe twice? He'd probably seen the sword and started thrashing again. That would explain the dirt all over his body and the fresh cuts on his hands.
Damn it. Had he really gone insane?
Whatever. He had no hunting tools. If things stayed like this, he wouldn't even be able to prepare food. How was he supposed to survive?
"Flint... stone tools? Or was it ground stone?"
So this was what happened when you left civilization behind. What a pathetic state to be in.
If only he'd had proper hunting gear right now—damn it, he'd told himself to stop thinking about that.
The sun was already beginning to sink. In front of him, a fire crackled beneath a sizable fish that was sizzling appetizingly as it cooked.
"With a fish this big, I'd normally make fish and chips. Tsk."
Filet the flesh, make a batter with flour and beer, then deep-fry the thick cuts in hot oil—
"Slurp."
His mouth was watering like crazy for no reason. But what could he do? There was no way to get those ingredients here. For now, he'd have to be satisfied with this delicious grilled fish.
"Mmm, mmmmmm!"
It's good! So good! He'd been worried because there was no salt, and he'd even been suspicious since it was freshwater fish—but had the Goddess bestowed some kind of blessing? This fish was incredibly delicious! No fishy smell at all, and the texture was a perfect balance between tender and firm—
"Yeah, really tasty. If you grill it like this, Erika—"
Ah.
"Ugh."
He'd told himself not to think about things like that.
*
"..."
The inside of the carriage was deathly silent. Two passengers, one driver. If anything stood out, it was the driver's attire and the passengers themselves. The driver wore thick armor and kept urging the horses forward without pause. When the horses grew tired, he found new ones. If they tired in the middle of the road, he cast magic to force them to run until they reached a stable and acquired fresh mounts. When a wheel broke, he replaced it immediately, all while continuing to push the horses mercilessly.
"Hero, surely the thing we're all worried about hasn't actually happened? Why are we in such a rush—"
"Fix it now. No time for chatter."
"..."
Around the time the horses began to falter, the Hero suddenly looked around.
"...It's gotten dark. Looks like we'll have to stop here for today."
He pulled on the reins and shouted, "Whoa, whoa." Only then did the horses begin to slow down.
"I'll prepare camp."
The carriage came to a complete stop with a creak. The door opened. The two who stepped out looked terrible. Normally the driver would have asked if they were feeling motion sick, but he didn't. The two stared strangely at the armored figure before realizing it wasn't the person they were hoping for. Their bodies trembled violently.
"Ah... Aah. That..."
"I did get a little motion sick, but—"
"...I'm sorry. I got a bit impatient."
The word impatient couldn't begin to describe how she'd driven the horses to the brink of madness. The animals were breathing in ragged gasps, looking around with eyes full of fear that they might be forced to run again at any moment.
The Saintess hesitated for a moment, then approached the horse and examined its condition. She drew forth her holy power.
"I'm sorry. There's someone who really needs us... right now."
As the pure white energy washed over the horse, its exhaustion vanished instantly. It became lively again, as if it had never been tired at all.
"But we won't be traveling anymore today."
She clumsily removed the saddle with her small hands, then patted the horse's neck twice—just like he used to do.
"Rest now. It'll be hard if we have to go again tomorrow."
Only then did the horse kneel and let out a heavy snort. "Prrrt."
"...So even horses listen to you."
"...Yes. That's right. It's one of the powers granted by my blessing."
Blessing. Power...
If only he had possessed a blessing, he wouldn't have met such a cruel end. In the first place, what good had any of their blessings been? They hadn't even seen through the Demon King's trickery. And in the end, they had killed him.
Yes. They had killed him.
Only silence remained. Three mouths, yet not a single word escaped.
If he were here, he would definitely have livened up the conversation with some story.
But he was gone now. The group that had once been four was now only three.
How had they continued the journey after abandoning him? How had they killed the Demon King while listening to those last, curse-like, venomous words—and still not realized that something was terribly wrong?
The three of them felt as though they were paying a brutal price for their actions through this agonizing regret.
"Who will take the night watch?"
"I will—"
"I'll do it."
The archer and the Hero both spoke at the same time in response to the Saintess's question.
"...I'll do it. The Hero drove the carriage all day."
"I'm not tired."
"Liar. That's the second day in a row you've said that."
"I'm not tired. And I'm not in pain."
"Please, you haven't even let the Saintess heal you—"
"I'm not," the Hero's voice grew harsh, "tired."
Still wearing his helmet, he took a rough breath in and out. Seeing that, Erika didn't press any further. The Saintess simply watched the two of them with a pained expression.
"...I'll take it tomorrow. I won't back down on that."
"Fine."
"I'm serious. Don't push yourself like this tomorrow."
"Then we'll head to the tent..."
...A brief silence fell.
The tent remained unopened. It had been the same yesterday. And yet the same thing was happening again. It was unbearable. Truly unbearable. His absence was so, so vast.
"...Hic."
It was far too large.