Chapter 184: For You

Deon entered the mansion with a hardened expression.

He maintained a measured pace, neither rushing nor dawdling, as if he were simply taking a casual look around.

Anyone watching his retreating figure might assume he was just entering to confirm something. That was the impression Deon intended to project.

‘…Hyung.’

Hyung’s head is in there. Or perhaps it isn’t.

But either way, I’m bound to show some reaction. I have no intention of revealing any weakness to those demons. Besides, if it gets out that I mobilized troops for personal matters like this, things will become quite troublesome later on.

Deon ventured into the mansion’s interior, accompanied by only Dan.

“…Where could it be?”

The office, most likely.

I’ll start by checking the office, and if it’s not there, I’ll just have to open every door in the place. Offices usually have distinct doors anyway, so it shouldn’t be hard to find.

Ascending the stairs and briefly scanning the hallway, Dan, with his keen eyes, seemed to spot something and called out to Deon.

“Master, I believe it’s over there.”

“Ah.”

Found it.

He quickened his steps toward the door. However, despite the momentum that suggested he’d burst right in, Deon didn’t hastily place his hand on the handle.

‘It could be a trap.’

He stepped slightly to the side of the door, preparing for a potential attack from within. Dan, understanding the situation, positioned himself behind Deon, dagger in hand. Deon nodded slightly, and then abruptly flung the door open.

A gust of cool air brushed past them.

“….”

“Nobody’s here.”

“…So it seems.”

Deon responded blankly. His gaze had been fixated on one spot for quite some time.

The Duke’s office was unremarkable. If anything set it apart from other offices he knew, it was the communicator and a wooden box placed on the desk.

The communicator didn’t even register in his mind. Deon froze the moment he saw the box.

‘That box.’

Whether it contains hyung’s head, something else to taunt me, or something truly important, something significant is inside.

As if drawn by an invisible force, he took a step inside.

“Master?”

“…Wait here.”

Even I can’t predict my reaction upon seeing what’s inside the box.

Dan is one of the few people who might witness my composure crumble, but even that has its limits. Showing an unsightly figure is one thing, but my last vestige of pride and the primal instinct to protect my ultimate weakness screamed that this was unacceptable.

Dan opened his mouth as if to object, but Deon ignored him and closed the door.

The noise from outside was cut off, and a quiet room greeted him. He turned around and walked very slowly to stand before the box.

‘….’

He stared down at the box with an expression he couldn’t decipher himself.

The pungent stench of blood was palpable. The Duke mentioned preservation magic. If so, the inside of this box holds time frozen from that day.

Slowly, he reached out and grasped the lid of the box. After a short, deep breath, Deon opened the box.

‘Ah….’

His thoughts ground to a halt.

Deon blinked, trying to steady his wavering gaze. Keeping his eyes fixed on the contents of the box, he forced his constricted throat to produce a voice.

“It’s…hyung, alright.”

Is this the price for saving someone like me? For saving someone who deserved to die, was he punished like this?

A man who sacrificed his life to save another, a person who should be revered… why is he in such a state?

“It’s Cruel Hart, indeed.”

He didn’t cry. Nor did he feel rage.

He had already raged and wept endlessly when he first learned the truth. Besides, since Deon Hart himself was the cause of this, he had no right to express any emotion about the situation.

Above all, he didn’t want to reveal his emotions to the Duke, who was likely listening intently through the communicator, waiting for his reaction. He further suppressed his emotions and spoke in an indifferent voice.

“You sick bastard.”

Fortunately, his voice only trembled slightly; for the most part, it came out devoid of emotion.

At the clear curse, the Duke seemed to realize that Deon knew the communicator was active. A low chuckle flowed from the device.

“What importance are principles when achieving a goal?”

“…Where are the rest of the body parts?”

He discarded honorifics.

All my patience was already spent on maintaining my sanity. I no longer had the luxury to use polite language with such a creature.

“Oh dear, it seems the body is gone. But you’re mistaken. I only have the head. Why would I keep something bulky and heavy that’s of no use to me?”

Develania said there was a time gap between when they took the head and the body, so it’s somewhat plausible.

Even if he had it, he wouldn’t willingly hand it over. Deon naturally shifted the topic.

“…You don’t even have troops here. Why bother calling me here? Were you just trying to buy time? What if I hadn’t come?”

“No, you would have come. And you did, just as I expected. As for whether I was trying to buy time, yes, that was my initial intention.”

“….”

“But upon further reflection, I realized there was a better way.”

In that moment, Deon could almost feel the Duke smiling on the other end of the communicator.

A bizarre sensation ran down his spine. He opened his mouth to say something, but the Duke spoke first.

“Wouldn’t it be better to simply kill you?”

His quiet voice sounded ominous. As if it were a signal, a presence that hadn’t been there before became palpable. Deon spun around abruptly, saw his attacker, and instinctively shielded the box in his arms as he crouched down.

“For salvation.”

A commoner strapped with explosives was charging at him.

There was no time to be astonished. In that instant, a barrage of thoughts flashed through his mind.

From the bewilderment of how a commoner could get so close in a quiet room without him, someone so sensitive to presence, noticing—even if he had been momentarily distracted—to considering possibilities like drawing his dagger to engage or dodging first… countless thoughts raced through his head.

…But by the time he regained his senses, his body had already reacted.

“…! …!!”

He faintly heard the sound of the door being hastily opened and Dan’s voice. He must have sensed a presence other than Deon Hart’s. But it was already too late.

Someone pressed against his back.

And then—

BOOM!

An explosion erupted.

***

In his fading consciousness, Deon tightened his grip on the box he was cradling and recalled a statement he’d made not long ago.

[It’s like fate is pushing me to hate the world.]

Just as expected. A mocking chuckle escaped his lips.

‘See? It won’t leave me alone.’

Even a commoner is willing to throw away his life to kill me. He had long since realized that the guy was a member of the Salvation Church, but his mind, already shaken by the truth he’d learned from the Duke and the sight of Cruel’s head, seemed unable to process this situation rationally.

He was just angry at everything.

Even as unconsciousness crept in, when he retraced what he was so angry about, all sorts of figures surfaced in his mind.

The bystander Emperor. The Duke, the root of all evil, who was playing games with hyung’s head. And the Demon King, who was just as much, if not more so, the culprit, treating him like a toy.

…Yeah, that Demon King bastard.

‘You must have had a grand time playing with me.’

Acting like he’d give me the moon and stars. Was I such an amusing toy for him to gamble with against the Duke?

As thoughts of the Demon King surfaced, his consciousness drifted back to the thought he had when he branded the Demon King as his target for revenge.

And the moment that thought solidified into resolve.

‘…Damn it, this is all fucked up.’

Blinding light erupted.

***

By the world’s standards, not long ago, and by human standards, long ago, the world took notice of a human dragged into the Eight Years’ War.

If he had just been dragged in like any other, it wouldn’t have been noteworthy. But behind the situation of this human being thrown into a cruel world was the Demon King.

A sacrificial pawn in a bet between the Demon King and his contractor candidate. How hero-candidate-esque this situation was. The next Hero had already been decided, but if he failed, this human was more than sufficient to be the next Hero.

To examine the reasons for this conclusion, one must go further back in time. The world had once examined the ratio of times Heroes and Demon Kings killed each other.

Heroes and Demon Kings are in a relationship of killing and being killed, but when looking at the overall history, the Demon King killed the Hero more frequently than the Hero killed the Demon King.

Why was that? After long analysis, the world found the answer.

[The Hero must have a strong will to kill the Demon King.]

Simply being a Hero, going because people push them to kill the Demon King, doesn’t produce great power.

The world, observing humans for a long time, realized the power of their emotions. Especially love and revenge. They are emotions that are fiercer and generate greater power than anything else. This human, Deon Hart, was more than enough to become a pawn to kill the current Demon King, who had a tenacious life force.

It was a new attempt. Even if it failed, they couldn’t just let him die without even trying. At the very least, they had to gather data.

So, he couldn’t die yet. At least not until the outcome was decided—whether the next Hero killed the Demon King or was killed by him.

Being physically weak as a Hero candidate was irrelevant. Once he received the Hero’s power and became a Hero, he would gain health beyond standards anyway. The problem, however, was keeping him alive and intact until he became a Hero.

Thus, the world rarely bestowed a blessing.

Befitting a weak human, the blessing was substantial.

As if the world’s efforts bore fruit, the young and weak human ultimately survived the battlefield. And the world, the moment the next Hero died at the Demon King’s hand, immediately designated this human as a Hero candidate.

They didn’t immediately birth him as a Hero. Physical modifications had to be made to make it easier for him to accept the Hero’s power, and most importantly, he still didn’t possess ‘revenge against the Demon King.’

To the world, a human’s life was truly fleeting.

Waiting for a human to learn the truth and harbor revenge was nothing.

And now.

When Deon Hart branded the Demon King as his target for revenge after hearing the Duke’s words, and when he took the next thought and it finally solidified into resolve, the world vibrated with joy.

If things truly unfolded according to his resolve, it would be the very thing the world had longed for since its creation.

[Finally, all preparations are complete.]

It was the glorious birth of a Hero.

***

The previous Hero, as he died, tried to pass his power to me. Foolishly, knowing it was impossible, he kept pouring and pouring power into me until he finally breathed his last.

The power the Hero poured into me flowed right through this body and spread into the world. Tragically and despairingly, no trace of his power remained in my body.

…Or so I thought.

– Someone’s strong will can sometimes defy the world’s intentions, or so they say. I seem to be living proof of that.

In a pitch-black world where nothing existed, the Hero spoke.

My will to save you became a seed of determination and settled within you. The me you face now is that will and a part of the original body.

The Hero’s power hadn’t remained in Deon Hart’s physical body, but it seemed to have left traces in another way. And seeing him face to face like this, it was clear that it had also exerted influence.

– I unintentionally glimpsed your past, and have watched all the events since. Ah, rest assured, I can only see the situations, not the thoughts or emotions you had at the time.

I was far from reassured.

I showed my discomfort, but perhaps influenced by me somehow, the Hero, unlike the one I knew, brazenly pretended not to notice and brushed it aside.

– You’ve lived a life that I dare not comment on. Perhaps my very desire to save you is an excessive selfishness, I’ve come to think.

It is selfishness.

There are pasts that can be forgotten and moved on from, and pasts that cannot. My past is the latter.

My past continues to exert influence to this day, strangling my neck and manipulating me like a puppet. There’s no path to happiness for me in this life. It would be better to die sooner rather than later.

Ah, having taken a direct hit from the explosion, I might already be dead.

– You will live. The world has chosen you as the Hero, after all.