Chapter 18 – What It Takes to Defeat a Hero (3)

A knight stood on the familiar yellow plain. Clad in jet-black armor, they were surprisingly small, at least a head shorter than Luelde. And yet…

Luelde, at the peak of his power, Holy Sword blazing, charged. The clash of steel was brief, and then… the hero stumbled, falling back, his face a mask of disbelief.

The black knight’s dark blade, unassuming, unremarkable, had somehow… stopped him.

–I’m coming for you.– Luelde charged again, his movements a blur of controlled fury. But the black knight, with a subtle shift in stance, a short, precise strike, sent him sprawling once more.

–Your strength is impressive, Hero of Radiance. But brute force isn’t always the answer. Against larger foes, perhaps. But against a master of the blade… it’s a different story. Be grateful we’re not fighting to the death. You wouldn’t stand a chance.–

Again and again, Luelde attacked, and again and again, he was effortlessly deflected, thrown back, his attacks neutralized by the black knight’s superior technique. A sword, a knee, a well-placed kick… the hero was humiliated, his attacks reduced to clumsy, ineffective flailing.

–You’re not ready. Come back when you’ve grown stronger.– The black knight mounted a restless black warhorse and rode away, leaving Luelde staring after them in stunned silence.

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“That knight… was that… Grandeus?”

–You’ve heard of him? I didn’t think the rumors of your father’s… shortcomings… had spread so far.–

“There are whispers. Of a knight who… defeated the hero with skill alone.”

“But… my father killed him, in the end. Didn’t he?”

–Just before we met. After he had mastered the Holy Sword and the Relics. He was at his peak.–

“Why did he fight Grandeus? There wasn’t any… animosity between them, was there?” Had my father sought revenge? He wasn’t… cruel, not exactly. Just… unforgiving. He held everyone to the same impossible standard, himself included.

The rumors of his defeat had been dismissed, of course, after he killed Grandeus. A victory that solidified his reputation, silenced the whispers of doubt.

–He was a Demon Corps Commander.–

“What…? I… don’t understand.”

–Though all he did was… humanitarian work. Relief efforts. Hence the name: the Relief Knights.–

“The Relief Knights… the secret organization? Are they…?”

–They started during the war. Helping the weak, the vulnerable. Ironic, considering he was a Demon Corps Commander.– A demon, offering aid and comfort to the mortals? Absurd.

–Your father didn’t know, at first.–

“How did he find out?”

–Let’s just say… a certain… foolish knight… requested an audience with his former liege. I… facilitated the meeting. As discreetly as possible. Your father wasn’t pleased.– A former liege?

“A demon… knight? How is that even possible?”

–Blame it on the Great Demon King’s… novel… it’s a long story.–

–Regardless, Grandeus was the first to truly… humiliate your father. At his peak. After he had mastered the Holy Sword. Before that, your father lost… frequently. But after the Holy Sword… he was almost unstoppable. Except, of course, against his fellow heroes, and… my inner circle.–

“There were other heroes, other champions, in other countries. Weren’t there?”

–Precisely. And that’s why your father survived.– She smiled, a distant, almost… melancholic expression. –And that’s why… I’m… here.–

Had he eliminated the other heroes, the other threats, to give my father time to grow stronger?

–The Holy Sword and the Relics… they weren’t unique. I destroyed dozens of them. The Church wept rivers of tears, I assure you.– And there had been far greater threats than Luelde, back then. Why fear a child with a single Holy Sword when facing armies of heroes, wielding artifacts of immense power?

–I had to intervene personally, to minimize our losses. Every casualty was a setback, a drain on our resources.– We had been stretched thin, our supply lines vulnerable. But our overwhelming strength had masked our weaknesses. Misinformation, strategic maneuvering, calculated brutality…

–Ancient history, now.– She sighed, a hint of… nostalgia? She had held the continent in her grasp, a reign of terror, a symphony of blood and death. And now… a ghost, a memory, a cautionary tale. But what about the countless victims, the innocent lives lost? Who would atone for that?

She felt no remorse, no guilt. I did what I set out to do. No regrets. A strange sense of… closure. Even now, trapped in this… in-between space… she didn’t seem… unhappy. A being who, by the Church’s standards, should be burning in the deepest pits of hell.

–You have a… surprising capacity for empathy, little bird.– Her voice startled me, pulling me from my thoughts.

–Don’t waste your pity on them. Their choices, their fates… they’re their own.–

“But some… they never had a choice…”

–That’s their failing, not yours. They neglected their lives, abandoned their responsibilities. Why lament their fate?–

Silence.

–Ignorance. Complacency. Apathy. I have no patience for such… weakness. They don’t even understand why they exist. Why they were born. Such creatures are… beneath contempt. Sentient beings who aspire to nothing more than… mediocrity… they’re an insult to existence itself. A sin against themselves.–

“A sin? Why?”

–Because they were born.–

Silence. A cryptic answer, her judgment absolute. I could feign agreement, but true understanding… that was a different matter entirely.

“Isn’t that… arrogant?”

–A leader, a king… must remain vigilant. Complacency is a disease. A weakness that can destroy entire nations.–

“And were you… a successful king?”

–I achieved my goals. Though my role was… more akin to… a servant. A follower.–

“A servant? A follower?”

–It’s a long story.– She seemed unwilling to elaborate, her focus shifting back to the task at hand. –So. What about your father’s swordsmanship? Have you… analyzed it?–

Silence. One thing was clear: she felt no regret. An almost unsettling level of… self-assuredness. But I wouldn’t judge her, not yet. Not until I had heard her story, in her own words.

“I… don’t know. Not yet.”

She had been defeated by the hero. And I… I wanted to defeat him. That was all that mattered. Her past, her motivations, her… evil… it was irrelevant. I needed to be stronger. That was all.

I had been drowning in darkness for so long, I hadn’t even realized it. Only now, as I clawed my way towards the light, did I truly understand the depths of my despair.

Past, future… good, evil… it was all… meaningless. I would escape this abyss. And if that meant becoming stronger, even through… unsavory alliances… then so be it. I would become strong enough to face anyone, to stand tall, to finally… be seen. As long as the path I chose wasn’t… dishonorable. Everything else… was irrelevant.

I wasn’t a hero. I could never be one. Not anymore. I had made a deal with the Demon King. And I wouldn’t regret it. This was my choice. And the consequences… the regrets, the despair, the failures… they would be mine to bear. Alone.