#091. The Demon King Extermination Party is Too Kind (5)

#091. The Demon King Extermination Party is Too Kind (5)

The slopes of Moodkrahel had been conquered.

Now, the only thing left standing between them and the Demon King’s castle was the final dark fortress perched atop the slopes.

“The Great Warrior has already lost his strength. Those who don’t know the fortress’s ‘hole’ will be forced to engage in a proper siege, a brute-force method to overcome the castle. Hero, you know that, don’t you?”

“…Of course. Naturally, I know. The passage pioneered by the true heroes of the North is known only to its rightful successors.”

“That’s the problem. Ian, how did that mind-manipulator steal the ‘rightful inheritance’ and ‘complete’ it?”

The miracle of the slopes.

The Grand Sage’s insight.

They had already realized that the true owner of the wisdom that allowed them to overcome a crisis they had expected to pay dearly for was Ian, not the Grand Sage.

Naturally, suspicion began to bloom in the Hero’s heart.

Did someone sell the rightful inheritance?

He didn’t want to think it, but it was the only way he could understand it.

The Saintess had betrayed them.

She was not a Saintess who was unaware of Hero’s suspicions.

“The doubt you harbor, I hold it too. And I have also considered the possibility that boy, with the unfortunate profession of ‘mind-manipulator,’ has been playing tricks. That is why we know we are both innocent.”

“…Yes. We have never been separated. I’m sorry for suspecting you. I was forcing logic to make sense of an incomprehensible situation.”

Unlike the harsh facade he had consistently shown, the Hero consciously offered a gentle smile, intending to genuinely reassure her for the first time.

The Saintess felt a pang of sympathy for the Hero, who had lived under such tension for so long that the smile felt unnatural.

“The Kingdom owes us. For burying the rightful Hero and colluding with the Empire to offer all the residents of the North as sacrifices to the Demon King’s army, as sacrifices for the Empire’s support funds. To make them pay the price, this war must end in both of our victory.”

A Demon King subjugation war that ended without the Hero taking decisive credit could open the future of the kingdom, but not the future of the Hero.

A miserable future where he wouldn’t dare to visit the graves of the former heroes who had gathered, prepared to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the Kingdom’s future.

“Ronove may have been garbage as a human being, but as a member of the Hero’s party, he was our only confidant and political partner. Ian is not only the enemy who killed Ronove, but also our enemy.”

The Hero reaffirmed his wavering resolve.

“The main player in the subjugation of the Demon King. I will never yield it.”

“Of course not. I’ll do anything if it means making you the greatest Hero. That’s why I even liquidated the assets of the previous Saintesses and helped you.”

The Archmage, the Great Warrior, the Grand Sage.

The heroes created by the kingdom had betrayed the Hero’s party.

But the first two were different.

The Hero and the Saintess.

Both pledged, reaffirmed their vow.

They would not succumb to the manipulations of a Mind Mage like the rest of their party.

Their friendship, their trust, would remain unbroken.

* * *

“How… how could you do this? The sacrifice of those who came before, our promises… what was any of it?!”

Hours later, the Hero cried out to the Saintess.

She could not hide her guilt, yet ultimately, she turned her face from him.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t forgive me.”

Unchanging friendship and trust – they were gone.

* * *

Few obstacles remained between them and the Demon Lord.

Thus, the survival of the subjugation force depended on how quickly they could conquer the Dark Fortress, bought with time in canyons and on treacherous slopes.

A supply depot, a vital point feeding the vast army stationed in five canyons and twenty-five gatehouses.

The fortress was, of course, immense, and a frontal assault would mean suffering devastating losses.

But once again, Ian possessed something: ‘the player’s strategy guide.’

“Saintess, I wish to encourage the soldiers participating in the siege. If you wouldn’t mind, could you and the two Saintesses from the Revolutionary Order bolster the spirits of the troops at the front?”

“…My heart is with the Hero. Please forgive my inadequacy, but I cannot participate in any form of subjugation other than the one championed by the elite expeditionary force.”

“No need to cast protection spells. Just offer some kind words. Pity the soldiers, unsettled by the disharmony amongst the leadership on the eve of such a great undertaking.”

The Saintess made the sign of the cross with practiced ease.

It was not to aid the siege.

Merely a prayer for the souls of the soon-to-be-dead to depart this wretched world for a better place. Surely, she could recite that much.

Seeing her hesitation, the Hero spoke readily.

“Go on.”

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“We’ve lived our entire lives as the Hero and the Saintess. If the kingdom rejects us, we cannot reject ourselves. Anything you need to do to remain the Saintess, you should do.”

The Saintess offered a shy smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be back soon.”

The Saintess followed the soldier who had summoned her.

And arrived before a tent where a single person awaited.

Seeing the small silhouette, the Saintess let out a sigh born of deep weariness.

“How petty. To think I had expected something more, hearing tell of a Mind Mage so saintly in his unusual methods. Such a cheap trick. I shall take my leave.”

“If you leave now, a lifetime of regret awaits you.”

“A lifetime? How glib. Especially coming from your lips.”

In the Saintess’ eyes, a resentment she could not conceal flickered.

“My fear, a lifetime of it, is having our lives trampled by the kingdom alongside the Hero, with no recompense from anyone.”

“…”

“Do you know what a lifetime is for the Hero’s party, after the kingdom abandoned the northern territories, cut off funding and closed the Hero selection system in pursuit of imperial support, leaving us alone on the front lines? Loneliness and death, rage and despair over their own inadequacy.”

The Hero’s party had to slowly whittle away… everything, amidst crushing despair.

Dignity, to survive.

To survive, they abandoned decency.

To survive, they abandoned shame.

The legacy of their forebears.

The bonds with their comrades.

Even the heart that should belong to a human being.

They cast it all away.

Thus was the front line maintained.

“Did Lonoway’s alliance with our Hero Party make us seem unvirtuous? Then you are correct. He captured countless beastmen and people to provide the reinforcements the Kingdom would not, using them for experiments. Thanks to that, we were able to protect half a million residents and soldiers in the North.”

Someone’s greed begets another’s suffering.

Without someone to be trampled upon, there is no one to rise.

“Do you know what sort of place your ancestral Stasephia Earldom is? They are the family that produced the Great Warrior of the Hero Party, and also one of the scum that abandoned the previous Hero Party they spawned for a share of the immense support funds. That hideous decision ultimately led to the abandonment of your mother and yourself.”

Words not meant for a child, I know.

But they were the enemy.

The Saintess, alongside the Hero, had to survive, and to justify her rage, she possessed a merciless will that could wield the cruel truth without hesitation.

“Even if the whims of that country’s incompetent king support you, leading to the dispatch of a 300,000-strong army, nothing will change. We are the ones to be abandoned, the ones to be trampled. We are a troublesome existence, sincerely resisting the subjugation of the Demon Lord that the Kingdom, that the King, does not desire.”

“Are you afraid the King will harm you?”

“Even if the King doesn’t intervene, the entire country will not tolerate our existence. Unless we achieve a feat as great as subjugating the Demon Lord, it is an inescapable fate. Therefore, we will not help. Theresa and Ian. Not for the future you envision.”

The Saintess, conversely, extended her hand.

“Our future and your future are not different. We will only be used and discarded. It is not too late even now. If you accept the Kingdom’s favour, and the merits are divided and torn apart for the soldiers’ sake, even you, the ‘descendants of the Great Warrior,’ cannot escape being crushed by power.”

“Are you telling us to participate in the abetting of massacre, in the self-destruction of a great army?”

“If abandoning before being abandoned is the only way to survive at the end of this fight, then it must be so.”

It was a despicably cold decision.

The end of a Hero Party abandoned by the nation, the end of the Northern Expeditionary Force, was such a thing.

“Even the soldiers who have survived looking only at the two of you, who have been with us to this point, who have defended the front lines for so long, must they be abandoned in such a way?”

The Saintess’s eyes trembled rapidly.

Noticing her trembling hand, the Saintess grasped it with her opposite hand.

“They refused to participate in the ‘Subjugation Operation.’ Following the King’s orders, they sequentially retreated from the front lines and lost the Sacred Fortress, the human stronghold, the Ice Canyon of Giants, and the Northern Great Road entirely. The remaining soldiers are ‘volunteers’ who did not agree with that decision, but even they are not aiming to advance. Their only purpose is to endure for a year and receive the subsidies.”

The Kingdom approached the Northern Front as a thorough business, and the soldiers approached it as labourers.

The only ones who sincerely believed that the subjugation of the Demon Lord was possible, and who struggled to achieve it, were the Hero Party, who even borrowed the power of hideous human experimentation to replace the strength of a great army.

Ian could not condemn it as hideous.

“Your sacrifices. Your resolve. Without all of that, neither I nor my mother, born far from the front lines, would have survived until today. The front lines collapsed every time before the Empire’s support arrived, and many lives were lost. I cannot help but be grateful for that dedication.”

The Saintess and the Hero denied the Kingdom, but Ian did not deny them.

“Those who achieve merit receive rewards, those who pursue justice are respected. Like water flowing downwards, like the moon rising when the sun sets, it is a commonplace that should naturally be fulfilled. The Kingdom was an unvirtuous country that denied such common sense.”

“Are you joining our cause?”

“I, too, have gained great anger and a sense of loss from the fact that the Kingdom trampled on the legacy of the previous Hero Party and turned its back on you. But now I know. That nothing will change by merely blaming. If there is someone who must change, it is oneself.”

The Hero and the Saintess had changed.

Just as Ian and Theresa had changed to leave the back alleys.

“The Kingdom’s betrayal, the collection of talents and techniques from noble families to gain power, my mother being abandoned by the Stasephia Earldom for participating in such actions of the Hero Party. I now understand this entire chain of tragedies. And I also know how to put an end to that chain of tragedies.”

“You… do you understand? Our resolve…?”

The method is the same.

“Like my mother, who clutched at a blade and leapt into the adventurer’s life, desperate to escape the graveyard of the lowborn, the back alleys. Like that hero party, who exploited the talents and skills of noble-born scions to build their legend. I, too, refused to end my days as a lonely, penniless child. That’s why I rose.”

So much has been done.

Deeds to regret.

“I have stained these hands, corrupted this heart. Through indoctrination. Twisting minds, distorting truths, trampling the faith of others, the beliefs of others, the very lives of others.”

“You are not wrong.”

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry.”

The instant Ian offered his apology, the Saint realized something was amiss.

Too late, as she stumbled backward, trying to flee the tent, Gorgo, Ian’s heavily armored bodyguard, blocked her retreat.

“Just as you were prepared to step over us to climb higher, I, too, have no choice but to step over you.”

“Brainwashing will not work. Do you truly think I am ignorant of how such unholy power is wielded? My will does not bend to words lacking self-belief, self-reliance. The deeper the faith, the less it wavers. The resolve to reject being offered as a sacrifice, a burnt offering to a kingdom, to the empire beyond, to all of mankind across the continent… that will not break!”

He acknowledged it.

Her heart was noble, her will strong.

Had he been in her place, Ian doubted he could have endured such a bleak path.

The Saint was virtuous.

And it was that very virtue that was her weakness.

“Your wish is for a future shared with the Hero. But if the Hero were to vanish, would you still continue down that same path?”

“How dare you, how dare you threaten the Hero?! And you still claim to be…!”

“The Demon Lord subjugation party? Yes, we can call ourselves that. If it means defying my father, who stole my mother’s talents and skills, and the usurper who inherited that power.”

The Hero, if betrayed, could meet his end not as a hero, but as a villain complicit in the destruction of a family, twice over betraying the pure heart and faith of a genius swordsman.

And that tragedy could be averted by only one person: the Saint, if she changed her mind.

“Lend us your name, your reputation, not to the Hero, but to our operation.”

Betray the Hero, and the Hero lives.

Fail to betray the Hero, and the Hero dies.

The Hero yearned to exact revenge on this world.

But what of the Saint?

Did her vengeance truly outweigh all else?

Ian knew.

It did not.

The Saint’s empathy for the Hero had morphed into a concern for his well-being, his future, which had become her highest priority.

Pity transcending revenge.

Admiration for an unyielding will.

If love had many forms, this was undeniably one of them.

The Saint loved the Hero.

And that had created a weakness.

A weakness that no brainwashing could overcome, for it required her to embrace the indoctrination willingly, of her own volition.

“Your soul will surely fall to hell.”

“I am prepared. From the very first moment I relied on this wicked power.”

Tears streamed down the Saint’s face as she lowered her head.

Thanks to the Saint’s advice, presented as ＜Knowledge of the Ancients＞ but in truth ＜Player’s Guide＞ the subjugation party was able to overcome the Dark Fortress without heavy sacrifice.

“How could you do this…? The sacrifices of our predecessors, our promises, what was it all for?!”

The price of sacrifice, it was a burden only Ian and the Saintess could bear in their hearts.