Hellfire and Demonic Waves
I could be certain. The moment that touched anyone, even the mightiest knight would vanish completely, not even leaving a speck of bone dust behind.
So right now, I had to kick off the ground and charge forward, blocking that hellfire tsunami with my own body. If I were a Hero.
As a child who had lost my family once, and then again, I had resented the very existence of the Hero—and in the end, resolved to become one myself. I had to block that attack.
But… my body refused to move.
It was trauma.
"Urk…."
…Yes, even when the truth spread that the Holy Kingdom had colluded with the demons. Even when the evidence was utterly irrefutable. Even when the Empire finally declared full-scale war on the Holy Kingdom.
In the end, not a single newspaper mentioned forgiving or defending the fake Hero Kail, who had merely impersonated the real one. That we needed to bring him back from exile.
Aside from High Priestess Lainera, even the Emperor had only hinted at it subtly, never formally demanding my return.
I had simply been able to leave Tarnass because the Holy Law had lost all meaning.
No… I could understand that. The Emperor's position was what it was, and his top priority was utterly crushing Harennes Holy Kingdom.
But even so, that didn't change the rest of the story. Why, when everything had been proven false, was my deception the only one unforgiven?
"Kuh…."
The rage I'd barely suppressed began to blaze anew. Clutching my chest, I collapsed to the ground.
…Yeah. Let it all go.
In the end, my mind cooled to ice. I'd completely forgotten why I'd picked up the sword in the first place—why I'd clawed through the dirt to become a Hero.
All that filled my head was the thought that these people dying or not was none of my business.
To them, I wasn't a savior anyway. I was just a shameless fraud who had deceived the world.
There was no reason for me to throw my life away here protecting them.
Yeah. I'd just fend off the bastard enough to draw its attention, then grab Selina—who was guarding Leysila and the kid—and get the hell out of this village.
Having sorted my thoughts, I staggered to my feet. The moment I loosened my grip on my sword and turned to go—
"Hero, sir… please save our villagers."
"……."
A small voice, childish yet clearer and more desperate than any adult's scream. That tiny cry pierced through the chaos and despair, lingering in my ears.
"⋯⋯."
My shoulders stiffened involuntarily. The head I'd been turning to ignore locked up stiffly.
At the edge of my vision, I saw a boy in his mother's arms, tears and snot streaming down his face, yet clasping his dirty little hands together in desperate plea toward me.
"Sniff… hic."
For a moment, my breath caught again.
The burned ruins of my hometown village. Before the ashes of my parents, the child I'd been had wailed for a hero who never came, shedding bloody tears. That image overlapped onto the boy.
"Haa… haa."
I finally exhaled the breath I'd held for so long. And plunged into bitter self-loathing.
What the hell kind of trash was I thinking?
Abandoned by the Holy Kingdom, blinded by accusations of being a fake. I'd sworn to myself that day that no more victims like me would ever appear—and now I was denying even that fury?
No, there wasn't even time for self-recrimination. The black demonic energy and hellfire tsunami were about to crash down on the boy and the villagers.
I kicked off the ground, my thigh muscles screaming as if they might tear. Ligaments ached like they were snapping, joints shrieked—but I ignored it all. I'd vowed to the Creation God to sacrifice my body anytime if it meant devouring the corruption to bring salvation.
Thud—!
"Kyaaah!!"
"I don't wanna die… I don't wanna die…!!!"
"Huff… huff…."
In the end, I reached the villagers just ahead of the hellfire wave. I steadied my breath, wrapping my entire body in White Breath energy through the blade.
The white aura swelled in an instant, dazzlingly enveloping my battered sword on the verge of breaking.
"Raaargh!!"
With a roar that tasted of blood in my throat, I swung the sword wide, cleaving straight through the oncoming demonic wave from all sides.
Kwaaaang!
——!——!
A deafening roar threatened to burst my eardrums as the hellfire flames clashed head-on with the white slash of White Breath. My vision flashed white. The horrific heat searing my flesh and the repulsive demonic energy were crushed and utterly annihilated.
And finally, the thick clouds shrouding the village parted, warm sunlight pouring down through the gray sky.
"Ahh… we're alive."
"Sniff… sniff, Lidin…."
Villagers gazing at the sky like a miracle from god, offering prayers of thanks.
"Unbelievable… my exoskeleton was perfect…."
Where the black smoke cleared stood Kargos, his body split perfectly in two, black blood fountaining from the crack in his tough shell. He spat curses.
"Why would the Creation God grant that fake Hero…."
With those final words, Kargos crumbled to black ash and vanished.
"Cough…!"
A gush of bright red blood poured from my mouth. My skin split everywhere, red blood dripping onto the ground. My vision shook, legs gave out. I barely propped myself up by slamming the sword hilt into the dirt to avoid collapsing.
"Kuh…."
My fingers trembled. As sleep crashed over me like after sedatives, my eyes slowly closing—
Tap.
Someone's frail, wrinkled hands gently wrapped around my bloodied forearm. A warm, desperate grip supporting my crumbling body.
I turned my head with effort. An old man I guessed was the village chief looked up at me, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry, great Hero. And…."
His voice trembled.
"Thank you. For saving us foolish, dim-witted adults."
"……."
With those words, one of the chains squeezing my heart since that day two years ago snapped free.
"Great Hero, my ass…."
I let out a hollow chuckle. Tension released, my grip loosened on the sword, and I sank into deep slumber.
Two days had passed since Kail collapsed unconscious. He still showed no signs of waking.
"Hoo…."
Selina sighed, gazing briefly at Kail, eyes closed like the dead, and his sister Leysila lying carefully beside him.
…Frustrating.
Talian was still marching toward doom under the Swelling Fallbirth curse. She wanted nothing more than to load the fallen man into a cart and race back alone.
But she couldn't.
Even if she dragged him there like that, he couldn't lift the curse without full recovery.
No, anyone with even a shred of conscience wouldn't do that.
Please recover quickly….
Selina swallowed her inner plea and turned away. Staring at his pale face would only heighten her anxiety.
Creeeak—!
She pushed open the rickety door and stepped out of the makeshift tent.
The village was a nightmare. Hellfire scars blackened the swept areas, dark smoke still rising here and there.
Yet amid the devastation, people moved to survive. Salvaging usable wood from ruined homes, covering dirt-caked corpses with white cloth.
Those collapsed in grief over lost family grasped outstretched hands and staggered to their feet. Some patted bloodied neighbors' shoulders with tear-filled eyes and kind smiles to the end.
A desperate will to live bloomed over the ruins.
"……."
Selina leaned against a crumbled wall, silently taking it in.
A sense of déjà vu hit her.
Right… We'd seen scenes like this countless times with Kail before….
During the march on the Demon King. Every demon-ravaged village was the same—no exceptions.
Each time, Kail had hidden his pain watching those forced smiles, struggling to shoulder their suffering.
She'd mocked him inwardly while stroking his shoulder affectionately to exploit him thoroughly.
Memories of her hypocrisy filled her mouth with bitterness.
"…Kuh!!"
Selina averted her gaze and hurried to the old cart at the village outskirts. Slumping into the driver's seat, she hugged her knees, staring blankly at the horizon.
Red sunset spread over grass and trees swaying in the cool breeze—like the hellfire that had devoured the village, or the blood of her kin she'd spilled. Crimson.
A slightly chilly evening wind tousled her silver hair.
"……."
Her chest felt crushed by a heavy weight.
Once Kail—who had sworn to the Creation God—opened his eyes, Talian would be saved. But what then for her?
Would he ignore his betrayer once it was over? Or slit her throat with that sword himself?
Could she even survive with this new curse embedded in her?
She'd vowed to accept either fate gladly, but gazing at the reddening sky, her vision blurred repeatedly.
"I don't know. I don't… know anything…."
Slump.
Overwhelmed by fatigue and wound aftershocks, Selina leaned her head against the cart wall and slowly closed her eyes.
Darkness fell, consciousness blurred, and deep sleep swallowed her.
Beyond that swamp of unconsciousness, a worn, ancient illusion began to rise.
Around the time the Swelling Fallbirth curse had consumed half of Talian.
Not much worth calling a memory—just filled with pain… A dream of her irretrievable childhood.