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Chapter 36: ...Did we finish it off?
"The brat's gotten disgustingly strong."
It had been seven years since the Hero's party was formed to fight against the demon race.
By then, the Hero's skills had far surpassed those of his other party members.
The strongest barbarian of the North.
The all-around master Dwarf.
The Elven prince, blessed with unparalleled genius.
A Cardinal-level priest.
And even the King of Thieves — called the God of Assassination.
They were monsters among humanity’s greatest talents — yet the Hero had surpassed even them.
And by an overwhelming margin.
The gap was so vast that it left no chance for them to win.
Ambush? Impossible.
Assassination? Impossible.
Even the King of Thieves, the so-called God of Assassination, had given up trying to kill the Hero.
The Hero, who had slain thousands of demons and hundreds of devils, had already transcended humanity.
If he had drawn the Holy Sword, he would surely have already wielded the powers of a divine apostle.
But even without it, he could now cleave an army in two with an ordinary branch.
Through countless battles and endless training, he had simply become that strong.
"UAAAAAAGH!!!"
If the demon stronghold had existed within this world and not some other dimension, the war would have ended long before the decade mark.
Even accounting for any final boss-like archdemons and mop-up operations afterward, the Hero’s rate of growth would have been more than enough.
When they discovered that the demon base was located off-world, the Hero had screamed about Zerg from outer space in an almost unhinged way — and even then, the others could only think, What a monster.
Someday, perhaps he would even soar into the heavens without need for magitech rockets, to reach the world of the constellations.
The Hero’s party, who had watched over him for such a long time, truly believed that.
"And he really is a perfect match for the Goddess, too."
"Warrior, such blasphemous remarks are—"
['The Goddess of Order and Causality' smiles brightly at the compliment.]
"...Uh, Goddess?"
Maybe it was because he had been summoned from another world, but the Hero always felt a little alien.
Not that it was a bad thing.
He was unique, yes — but he was also earnest and respectful, which gave him his own charm.
To them, the Hero had become something meaningful — something more than family.
It seemed the feeling was mutual, for after a time spent shouting at the sky and venting his frustrations, the Hero one day appeared before them with the Holy Sword in hand, a serious expression on his face.
"...Uh-oh."
"...Is something wrong, Hero?"
His face was so solemn that even the normally bold Northman and the Dwarf tensed up, facing him carefully.
Not that they thought he'd attack them, of course — but the mood was too heavy to dismiss lightly.
And then—
"Since we have a bit of free time, I thought I’d forge a sword."
"A sword? Shall I craft you a new one?"
The all-around Dwarven master craftsman promptly thumped his own chest in offer.
The Hero stared silently at his muscle-bound party members for a while, then slowly shook his head.
"Not a physical sword. Rather, I thought it would be good to forge my own sword — my inner sword — while there’s time."
Swordsmanship.
The art of slaying demons.
After living for seven years honing nothing but that, he now intended to finally look inward — to explore his own mental world.
Beyond the hatred for demons and devils, what remained within him were only two things.
"I will remember you all through my sword."
* * *
"Ignar."
Whoosh—!
Flames erupted.
A flame of destruction and life, imbued with infinite potential.
A sword forged from the spirit of a warrior born in the frigid North, burning with a hotter spirit than any other.
The sword of a warrior who charged at the vanguard.
Not even the brutal environment of the North could kill him, nor could the blizzards of the frozen wastelands drive back this indomitable warrior.
He was flame itself.
To enemies, a raging inferno.
To allies, a comforting warmth.
At times, one might even call him humble.
By the light of the Goddess, and through the transcendence forged by countless battles, the warrior's essence within the Hero's sword evolved into a blazing sun, burning even hotter.
Fwooooosh—!!
A protective flame repelled the blizzards and icicles flying toward the Hero all at once.
Feeling even her own mana waver under the heat, the Blue Tower Master, Elneor Grants, faltered and trembled with dismay.
No attack or curse could pass through the flame; it was almost as if some divine authority had manifested.
But—
"Dark Web — Tarantula."
The brilliant black mage, Erneon, did not retreat.
Instead, he pressed forward.
Fire to counter ice magic — a well-known elemental matchup, one that had been common knowledge for centuries.
Erneon had come fully prepared with equipment and scrolls resistant to both fire and ice, in case of unforeseen circumstances.
‘I can withstand this.’
...It was quite hot, hotter than expected, but not enough to die immediately.
If he could kill his opponent before he burned to death, it would be fine.
That was the nature of life-and-death battles.
Relying on his resistance to flames, Erneon pushed forward, grimacing all the while.
When the strangely calm-faced man entered his range, Erneon cast a deadly spell, his hands stained black.
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"Poison Fang."
At that moment, a deadly poison, strong enough to melt even a young dragon, was sprayed forward.
KWAaaaaaaaaang───!!!
The black liquid alone seemed enough to scorch everything in front of him.
And since it was a mixed poison, it would either disintegrate anything it touched instantly or, even if resisted, cause it to rot and decay.
Yes, that arrogant fool who climbed up to the Tower Master's floor, relying only on fire magic, would die without even leaving a corpse.
It didn't matter who he was.
Since he attacked the stronghold first, it could be considered self-defense.
Yes, this was a justified counterattack... no, in fact, he didn't really care about that.
'...Is he dead?'
The moment his eyes met the man's, Erneon's entire body trembled for the first time in ages.
It was as if he were facing a natural enemy, a sensation so soul-shaking he felt he might die at any moment.
When the opportunity arose, he instinctively thought he had to eliminate him.
"Haha."
If he missed this chance, he felt he wouldn't even have the chance to fight back and would simply die.
Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.
But driven by that unease, Erneon's body moved on its own.
He could have waited and observed the battle with the Tower Master a bit longer before interfering.
He himself found his own rashness odd — but now he understood.
"A rough welcome like this is a bit much, you know."
Amidst the still-smoldering flames, a mist of poison rose, and the man's unharmed figure appeared.
Crack-crack-
Every time he moved his neck, a cracking sound echoed.
Each time that sound reached him, Erneon shuddered.
Swallowing dryly, he prepared his next spell.
He unfurled a scroll from inside his robes.
He hadn't intended to use this until after things were settled with the Tower Master.
But now, he had no choice.
Rapidly chanting the scroll's incantations, Erneon felt his skin dry out and even age slightly as his mana dwindled — but it was worth it.
For this was a power dragged up from hell itself.
"──Hell Fire."
No flashy destruction, no spectacular effects.
Just a single dark fireball blooming ominously in the air.
It transcended concepts of heat and cold — anything it touched would be pushed into annihilation.
If it simply made contact, it would surely kill that creepy brat.
Grinning with ecstatic madness, even as his body dried up, Erneon hurled the black fireball.
Slice-
And then the hero cut it down.
"...What?"
Silent as an assassin.
The fireball that had just been flying vanished in an instant, as if it had been a dream.
‘...No, my Hell Fire?’
In utter disbelief, Erneon stared, mouth agape, and before he realized it, Shin Yuseong stood before him, emotionless, swinging his fist.
"Keuk!"
The moderately controlled punch struck Erneon's face without mercy.
Thud, tumble, bang—
The frail mage couldn't even maintain his balance and rolled across the ground, finally collapsing with his neck twisted.
'Okay, one arrest complete.'
[The goddess nods in satisfaction.]
For a moment, he considered killing him with some demon-level magic spell, but decided to hold off.
Flexing his recently swung fist, the hero now turned his gaze toward the last standing offender — the Tower Master, Elneor Grants.
...Was she about to get hit too?
How had it come to this?
She felt a creeping sense of desperation even in her own stronghold.
Biting her lips anxiously, finding no solution no matter how hard she thought, she finally shouted out loud.
"I don't know from where you hail, but this is an outrage—!"
"What are you even saying."
An outrage?
He really didn’t care.
Shin Yuseong silently circled behind the Tower Master and chopped her on the back of the neck.
"Guk!"
Good, another one down.
These types who run their mouths too much were always the easiest to knock out with just a chop.
Shaking his head at the absurdity, Shin Yuseong, having now completed his preliminary quest, gently laid the woman he had carried onto the least damaged part of the floor.
He looked down at the patient he had been forced to postpone treating.
"...Haa, haa."
Seol Yeonhwa.
Still gasping for breath like before, but now with a bright blush spreading across her face, and her whole body heating up — a clear difference.
Her body, filled only with yin energy, was now struggling against the sudden influx of yang energy.
Of course, if left alone, her natural constitution would soon drive out the yang energy.
But after all the effort he had put into gathering materials, letting it all go to waste now felt too regrettable.
Crack-crackle—
He decided to help her a little more.
Warming up his hands, the hero sat beside the woman and took a deep breath.
First, he reached for the ribbons tying her clothes together, which were damp with her pained breathing.
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