---

Chapter 345

“D-Demon King, the Hero…!”

[…….]

Toyo’s Demon King scowled at the cry of the Necromancer beside him, waving his hand irritably.

Pop! It sounded like a water balloon bursting. Unsurprisingly, the one who had just opened their mouth was the hapless Necromancer.

Their fabric burst apart. This scene sharply illustrated how worthless his underlings were in his eyes. Yet the Necromancers lined up behind him didn’t even flinch as they were drenched by the splattering fabric.

[So he thinks I don’t have ears.]

While the reason for the execution was revealed too late from his lips, no one cared. The one who needed to hear the reason was already dead, and they weren’t disloyal ones looking for a just cause to die for their master.

They had already entrusted their lives to their master. No doubt, no rebellion. Some among them maintained their individuality, but that was limited to those whose innate power was too great to let go of their identity.

“What a damn mess.”

The Vice General muttered with a chewed expression. She was one of those exceptional beings. Her innate talent and power were far too immense. Even after offering what was due to the Demon King and receiving power, she didn’t break.

“He’s impressive, despite not looking the part, huh?”

“What’s the point in compliments? That impressive Undead is getting smashed over there.”

With a bored expression, the Vice General pointed straight ahead. She was right. Brilliant sunlight illuminated the area.

The King of Moryo would certainly mutter about how audacious it was, the light was simply too beautiful.

Bones and corpses melted in the touching sunlight. It was like animals lying in the warm sun on the prairie. As the Undead turned to ash and disappeared, Christopher whistled.

“How can we defeat the Sunflower Saint? Honestly, there’s no monster that can match her. I wouldn’t stand a chance against her in a 1:1, either.”

“Probably not.”

The Vice General gazed at the troops in disbelief. There floated the Saint, rising high into the skies like a god.

A woman who wouldn’t die no matter how many times she was killed. While humanity calls her a saint, we refer to her as the Immortal.

She truly embodies immortality itself. Even without her own power, if there’s even a small gap, her body restores itself in an instant.

It wasn’t just her. Give her merely three seconds, just three seconds, and she could pull not only herself but everyone on the battlefield into the realm of monsters like her.

Humanity has always suffered at the hands of the Demon King. While it’s not incorrect to say that, their continued existence hints at much more.

There are also monstrosities within humanity, though not to the extent of the Demon King. The Swordless, the Thousand Swords, the Rupture, the Sunflower Saint, the Overlord, the Lion King.

Just hearing those titles elicits an “Ah” from anyone who acknowledges them as the ones who have obstructed the Demon King’s path.

But that’s not it? Alongside them, so-called nobody’s without even a title, those without a speck of mana in their bodies, exist too.

They seemed like a swarm. Living as separate entities day to day, yet suddenly charging forth if someone crossed a certain line. As if their lives meant nothing.

The Vice General’s lips twisted. What made them think they were so admirable? What made them so righteous and great?

“Alright, then shall we have some fun?”

“…You said you’d run away?”

“I can always run away, lady.”

Christopher grinned, though the expression was way too twisted to be called a smile.

‘Killing God… yeah, that’s the vibe.’

It was rare for that man to show such emotions.

The Vice General had that thought just as Christopher’s form stretched like taffy. He crashed into the Undead blocking his path with his bare body.

In his eyes, it seemed like there was only one person in this world.

*

“Ah, I was wondering if you’d come, but here you are!”

“Is he coming!?”

“Who is that? Why are you two talking like you know something!”

At Yeon-woo’s murmuring, Yoo-min shivered and replied, “That person almost killed me!” amidst the chaotic battlefield. Namgung Seong asked while slashing at a flying gargoyle.

Crash! With a sound like thunder, the gargoyle fell and shattered on the ground.

“Ah, yes. They almost killed me.”

“You!? What happened!?”

“No, that person…”

“You were about to die!”

“You jerk?”

As they naturally slandered him, Yeon-woo tugged at White’s nose. The spear blade extended, naturally taking the form of a great sword.

“Hope it doesn’t break?”

Bringing White’s blade to his shoulder and elbow. It was a favored stance of Claire when using her shield sword.

Good posture for both defending an attack and switching to an offensive.

“Who knows?”

––Creeeak!

The sound followed belatedly, answering back. In an instant, a force struck Yeon-woo’s grip like a ripple.

Incredible power. It was simultaneously familiar. Even without reinforcement, to unleash such might was astonishing, yet he had experienced this level before while sparring with Master-class fighters.

“Ugh, huh!!”

Creak, Yeon-woo’s bones and muscles screamed. He forced the repelling force that traveled through his grip to spill to the ground. At that moment, he pushed White away with his shoulder and took a step toward Christopher.

“O-Oh?”

Christopher felt his body slowly being pushed back, and with a clenched jaw, he bit down as though to crush pain while Yeon-woo shouted.

“I’m not losing to you!!!”

With half of it being a forced outcry akin to a battle cry, Christopher hopped backward. One skeleton that had stood where he landed crumbled with a puff.

Just showing up sent a chill through the air. The emergence of a formidable foe, distinctly different from the multitude of Undead, left the party unable to hide their tension as they swallowed dryly.

“Have you learned to speak normally?”

“Aah, thanks to that lady messing with my brain. You all are now my benefactors.”

Crouched like a nimble beast, Christopher babbled away. Yeon-woo scoffed in disbelief.

“If you think you’re a benefactor, then why are you here to interfere?”

“That’s foolish talk, Choi Yeon-woo. Who would rejoice if I came to help?”

As he said this, Christopher glanced at his own hand. The sound of bones grinding filled the air. The look in his eyes felt somehow sad, and Yeon-woo frowned.

“What? Naturally….”

“No one is glad. Not you, not me, not humanity. Because I’ve already stained these hands with countless blood.”

Christopher smiled brightly. His expression was supremely calm, devoid of even the slightest guilt. Yeon-woo felt an indescribable sense of alienation at that sight.

“Ha ha, don’t glare at me like that. It means I feel guilty in my own way. Just not enough to reflect on the life I’ve lead.”

“…That’s a garbage statement I don’t believe a fellow human could make.”

“How surprising. I agree. I don’t believe you’re human either. Were you attempting to forgive me? Do you think I can pay for the blood on my hands?”

“If I had the heart to, I might have been able to. I’ve given up hope because you’re not that kind of person.”

Yeon-woo turned her head in disgust. Christopher gazed at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“How surprising. It seems the Hero is really a remarkable being. However, just because you think that doesn’t mean the victims who died by my hands or their families would think so too.”

Having said that, Christopher suddenly stomped the ground. Thankfully, he had not let his guard down, so he succeeded in dodging relatively easily. A strong blow pierced past Yeon-woo’s brown hair.

“Of all people, you should never forgive me, Hero. The dead and their families still hate me.”

“…I understand what you’re saying.”

Yeon-woo responded to his words with an echo of realization as she swung her sword. Calm and composed. She swung to block each of Christopher’s possible options.

Yet Christopher remained completely unfazed. He received what he couldn’t evade with his body. What he couldn’t avoid, he took with his body.

“Is this just a scratch, even with Aura Blade activated!? ”

“Ha ha, everyone was surprised.”

Numerous blades passed before her eyes. The paths of the swords exchanged between Christopher’s power and sword were drawn endlessly.

In a moment, everything was analyzed, understood, and the Doppleganger was thrust down. Christopher’s low kick aimed at Yeon-woo’s leg was deflected by the elastic Doppleganger and bounced back.

“Oooh!?”

“Huh!!”

In the meantime, Yeon-woo hoisted White above her head. Taking a moment to catch her breath. Minor attacks wouldn’t mean anything against Christopher. She needed the determination to kill in one strike. Infusing her mana into White, she prepared.

This man was like the Undead, living not because he wanted to but because he couldn’t die. More so, he was contemplating the sorrow that would arise from dying or repenting than he was about being a help to humanity.

Such cases exist in the world. When a perpetrator faces the deserved punishment, they may no longer be punished again. Either through genuine remorse or hiding their evil and returning to the comfort of society.

Yet, even so, the victims, or the families of the victims, may not forgive the offender. If the general opinion of society seems to think the offender could be forgiven, accepts them as they are.

What is to be done with the victims or their family’s rage? Where should the hatred be directed? Even with fierce emotional flames burning their hearts, do they have to forgive him simply because they are told to?

This man desired that. He wished to be hated. He wished the title of Hero didn’t forgive him or that society didn’t feel it could accept Christopher the Demon.

Thus he resolved to let go of the thought of reaching for his hand. Like he had lived until now without knowing a thing, he simply decided to keep on living.

After staining his hands with blood, even if he were to fall into hell and never see his beloved again, he’d find that sufficient.

He would accept resentment and hatred within this single body, becoming an obstacle in the Hero’s path. To prevent innocent people from grieving, he’d turn himself into a trash can for emotion, effortlessly tossing aside such feelings.

It wasn’t righteousness. It wasn’t goodwill. It was merely the filthy self-satisfaction of a criminal. Nothing more, nothing less. This man thought that such a form was the most fitting for him.

“Well, I don’t plan on dying right now.”

A true villain ought to stick to the protagonist until the very end, for that taste to genuinely satisfy. As he watched the blade descend above him, the man flicked his tongue.

(To be continued)

 

---