#090. The Demon Lord Extermination Party is Too Kind (4)

#090. The Demon Lord Extermination Party is Too Kind (4)

Of the five first unit members of the hero party, only three remained.

The Great Sage did not concern himself with whether the hero and the saint followed or even stopped, he simply accepted reality.

However, the reality of not having any companions to walk alongside was just a little sad.

‘I suppose I can’t accept it. Someone like me, a noble family’s fabricated hero. To you, who were discarded, unsupported heroes. The most pathetic version of the hero.’

The Hero party wasn’t always a quintet, divided into a first and second string.

There was a time when the very concept of a Hero was rejected, when the existence of Heroes was to be erased from human history altogether.

A Hero of this generation, who lived through that era of darkness, could never truly acknowledge them as party members.

‘Even so, we must endure. Just as you have lived as Heroes your entire lives and have no choice but to fulfill your individual duties, I too have lived as the Grand Sage my entire life.’

The Grand Sage was a meticulously crafted role.

She didn’t possess extraordinary magical or martial talents like a Grand Mage or Grand Warrior.

Nor did she have superhuman intellect or strength.

The world declared:

If the Grand Mage was the most powerful magician in the world…

Then the Grand Sage was the wisest sage in the world.

‘Grand Warrior. Grand Mage. I envy you. Even if it was manufactured, you possess something you can boast as your own power. My wisdom…’

It was not the Grand Sage’s own.

The Grand Sage’s wisdom was merely the sum total of information held by the aristocratic council.

Not her own will, but the will of the council itself.

The “most expensive role” fabricated from the petty jealousies and self-interests of the nobles, who couldn’t bear to concede the position of national saviour to some rootless Hero riffraff.

Now, the aristocratic council had been shaken by Teresa Clan and was practically paralysed.

The Grand Sage was blind wisdom, a dried-up calligraphy brush.

The Royal Army.

The Holy Knights.

No one relied on her anymore.

No one desired her usefulness.

In utter indifference, the Grand Sage continued her solitary path.

Carrying the weight of a name that didn’t suit her, more oppressively than ever before.

* * *

Teresa Clan had reassessed the Grand Warrior.

“A force deserving of being called a hero. To think he would obliterate the door, the one that takes dozens of large-scale monsters to crack open.”

“The power that earned him a spot as a first-string party member in the Hero party, the one destined to defeat the Demon King is the real deal, huh?”

“Thought he was just some mediocre warrior, but I take it back. Unlike that stingy Hero, he threw himself wholeheartedly into it. Wonderful♡ Impressive♡”

Thanks to the Grand Warrior’s sacrifice, the Hero party broke through the fifth gate and escaped the Giant’s Ice Gorge before enemies poured out from the other passages.

The significance of this victory was immense.

They didn’t have to be trapped within the gorge, facing attrition while being pursued by the enemy or having to retreat.

They had gained a golden opportunity to advance towards the Demon King’s castle.

Even if enemies gave chase, the main army could maintain the front lines, buying significant time for the Demon King subjugation. Unlike previous subjugation campaigns pressed for time, they now had some breathing room.

“Maybe we don’t even need a Hero?”

“Don’t get cocky. We’ve only overcome the second hurdle.”

Dracozar the Dragonkin.

The leader of the beastfolk pointed to a massive dark fortress in front of the subjugation force that had escaped the Giant’s Ice Gorge and the slope they had to traverse to reach it.

“Murdcrael. The hill leading to the ancient shrine defended by the Demon King’s oldest spider legion is the place where every Demon King subjugation party formed to bring the Hero party before the Demon King prepared to die.”

The Northern Army had no information about this place.

Because none who reached it ever returned.

Exhausted bodies sought respite after relentless battles and forced marches, while the commanders convened in urgent council, seeking a way to overcome this impasse.

“What of deploying our mages’ power?”

“Impossible. We would then be left defenseless against the Demon Lord’s magical onslaught.”

“I’d rather assault a fortress. At least we could batter down a gate with force. But this? This hillside, draped in webs… it is its own kind of hell.”

One misstep and it’s a fall down the precipice. What’s more, webs lie in wait, capable of ensnaring even mid-sized monsters. Escape is unthinkable.

The worst possible terrain: A mere handful must proceed along a winding path, clinging to the designated route.

This stretch nullifies the advantage of a three-hundred-thousand strong army.

Worse still, from the heights, arrows can be rained down with impunity, while below, all that can be done is endure the onslaught.

The Beastmen.

The Nobles.

The Adventurers.

None can overcome such brutal terrain.

Only experience can conquer such a treacherous place.

And the most experienced here? None other than the ‘Hero,’ whose family had, generation after generation, challenged the most unforgiving landscapes in human history.

“Do you see it now? That a grand army is meaningless here. Your stubborn belief that common folk can achieve anything has squandered our valuable assets – the grand mages and great warriors.”

The Hero’s eyes gleamed, drunk on the prospect of victory.

Frustratingly, he spoke the truth.

“Of course, the Demon Lord’s army also uses this path. Ordinarily, passage would be impossible, but legend tells that within this web-infested hell, scattered strands exist that offer safe passage.”

Hope offered to the beleaguered subjugation force.

Hope, provided by the Hero.

Thus, they cannot refuse the Hero’s imposition.

“However, the number of those who can utilize the information held by the subjugation force is limited. Should too many converge and break or tangle the webs, Moodkraiel, commander of the web-spider legion, will seal all ＜Shortcuts＞.”

The Hero fixed a cold gaze on Theresa.

“Select three hundred. The most skilled three hundred from this subjugation force. The rest… are left behind.”

“!!”

“Ah, do not fret over military command. I wouldn’t take it even if offered. But know this: Command of the three hundred who will vanquish the Demon Lord falls to me.”

“Even now, facing this… you still cling to such things?”

“I merely reclaim what was mine from the start. The war games end here.”

A declaration, brutally callous.

Before, Theresa would have drawn her sword, stood defiant.

The Hero’s casual disregard for life was no different from the enemies she had defeated until now.

‘What is this? That look…’

The Hero detected something amiss.

In Theresa’s eyes, directed at him, he saw not only animosity, but also a stirring of pity.

Not the look one gives to a political rival vying for command.

“The Empire sends regular reinforcements and eliminates the northern Demon Lord army, using the Demon Lord’s army as bait to extract large amounts of funding and eliminates all support for the Hero, thereby increasing the damage.”

“!!”

“I’ve heard of the cruelties inflicted a mere decade ago. Of the fates suffered by the Hero’s family, and by the previous Hero.”

The Hero’s eyes narrowed fiercely.

“I did not think there were nobles shameless enough to dredge up the past, yet you dare speak of your own shame.”

“My son procured this intelligence.”

“A mere ten years of age? Ah. The ‘Brainwasher’s’ trickery, I presume. Must be nice to have such a clever son.”

Haunted by a grievous past, the hero’s face contorted with a venomous snarl.

“The past is irrelevant. Nor do I care for the nobles who, swayed by the Brainwasher’s coaxing, are fabricating party members who keep dropping out. Unlike those pathetic charity cases scraping together ‘meaningful contributions,’ we intend a genuine extermination.”

Despite his personal flaws, the hero’s animosity towards the Demon Lord was undeniable, visceral.

“Enough dawdling. Cull out three hundred.”

“If you were the only one genuinely seeking to eradicate the Demon Lord, I would. I concede. You are the sole alternative. Or, rather, there was a time when you *were*.”

No longer.

Teresa’s gaze drifted from the hero.

He noticed then, the absence of the Brainwasher, Ian, at her side.

The ‘fake’ first-string members of the Hero’s party, who had shadowed them relentlessly.

The fact that *this* particular fake, the fakest of the fake, had appeared alongside Ian.

Even the resolute will in the eyes of this scarecrow, stripped of noble ties and intellect, a sight his wisdom had previously veiled.

“There is no need to cull three hundred. I can guide you all along the ＜Untainted Shortcut＞.”

The Grand Sage.

The weakest of the weak was now testing the hero’s patience.

“Grand Sage. Don’t let that title inflate your ego to think you’ve actually *become* a sage. Don’t send countless soldiers to their deaths in some foolhardy endeavor. Step aside. This is no place for the likes of you.”

“No. Until now, perhaps I would have conceded. But things are different now.”

The woman, who would never have dared lift her head in the presence of the real ones, now stood defiantly, her chin held high.

The hero seethed with murderous intent at this effrontery, but the Grand Sage, though fearful, did not yield.

It was the unwavering demeanor of someone who held a sincere answer deep within their heart.

“I swear upon the name of Grand Sage to lead the vanguard and take responsibility. If I err, I will gladly stumble from the Shortcut and plummet into the abyss beneath the spiderwebs.”

How could one deny such a life-or-death commitment?

Again, the hero relented, as if testing her resolve.

And miraculously, the Grand Sage blazed a trail of correct choices.

The very ‘Shortcut’ the hero himself knew.

The path traversed by heroes and extermination parties of eras past.

Even paths unknown to any of them, or lost to the annals of forgotten records.

To those unaware that this was merely the ‘Player’s Walkthrough’ unfurled under the guise of ‘the Grand Sage’s renown,’ it seemed as if the Grand Sage truly possessed profound wisdom.

“Why? Why can you, who are not heroes, so unerringly choose the only ‘way forward’!”

The hero felt wronged.

The existence of a path more perfect than the shortcuts he had carved with his own blood felt like a cruel jest by the gods.

But he could not deny the reality unfolding before him.

This *was* reality.

The Archmage’s sacrifice.

The Great Warrior’s prowess.

The Grand Sage’s insight.

The strength in the hero’s eyes gradually waned.

He didn’t want to believe it, but now even *she* was considering it.

That the sacrifices of the hero’s party had allowed them to overcome such treacherous obstacles and establish the advance of the grand army.

Maybe even beyond that.

If it were them, they might truly realize the miracle of subduing the Demon King, something no country in the world desired, with an army of 300,000.

Then, whose turn was it next?

The Saintess and the Hero.

It was their turn.

The Hero’s party had changed because of that boy.

A mind-manipulator who had created a grand army with a manufactured cause.

A waning will rekindled, a new flame born.

This was a battle between the Hero and the mind-manipulator.

‘I’m different. I won’t break, nor will I be ensnared.’

The Hero glared at Ian.