Chapter 2: Unaware that it would become the greatest mistake of her life (2)

Now known as the “Strongest Swordsman in History” and “The Hero Blessed by the Goddess,” Lier wasn’t always this powerful.

 Right after drawing the holy sword, there were times when he was incredibly weak—so weak that he even got beaten by goblins.

This story isn’t from that early period, but it’s from a similar time, back when the hero’s party was still struggling and hadn’t even made it into the demon realm.

“Groooooar!!”

“Sien! There’s one coming your way!”

At Lier’s shout, a troll went berserk and charged at Sien.

In reality, not just one but even a million trolls wouldn’t be a match for the real Sien. However, he was hiding his true strength to blend in with the hero’s party. So, he had to pretend to struggle a bit, at least to the level of the other party members.

“Hup!”

Instead of defeating the troll in one strike, he deliberately took three exchanges before cutting it down. That was the limit his pride would allow. After all, it wouldn’t do to appear too troubled by something like a troll.

“Roaar!! Die, puny human!!”

“Who are you calling puny… Whoa!?”

“Hero!?”

Meanwhile, Lier was genuinely struggling against the troll. He wasn’t able to attack at all, barely managing to defend against the troll’s blows. He was putting all his strength into blocking its downward strikes just in time.

Sien clicked his tongue at the sight. Could that guy really grow strong enough to defeat me? Hard to believe.

“Should I just help him out? But then he wouldn’t learn anything… Or maybe that would actually be better for him?”

While Sien was mumbling to himself and debating internally, the battlefield situation suddenly changed.

“Ahem, doom, ver, charic… Grease!”

A kobold shaman, clad in robes, chanted ominous words and pointed his staff at Lier. The spell “Grease” coated the surface of her holy sword with a thin, slippery layer, drastically reducing its friction. Usually, this spell is cast beneath an opponent’s feet to trip them up, but this kobold used it differently.

“Waaaah!?”

“What, Master?!”

A transparent film enveloped the holy sword, and a startled Lier accidentally let go of it. The sword spun like a top and slid across the ground… towards a dangerously high cliff nearby.

“Exiiiiiiiiia?!”

“Maaaasteeer!!”

Oh dear.

Sien facepalmed. Are these people idiots?

“Just focus on dodging for now. I’ll handle the sword.”

With that, Sien began chanting a spell (or rather, pretended to).

“Softly encircle and come to me. Lesser Telekinesis—huh?!”

But the spell was never completed. The hand forming the sign suddenly got yanked down and slammed into the ground. The overwhelming weight was so intense that even the “Sien Lenos” persona he had taken on, or his original self as the Demon King, found it hard to resist.

At this rate, his left hand might actually get crushed.

“W-what!? This sudden heavy gravity…!”

“Sien, please dispel the magic! You can’t just try to lift the sword recklessly!”

“Oh…!”

It finally dawned on him—the holy sword’s rule that “[Only the rightful owner can wield it].” It seems this applied to magic as well. Of course, it makes sense; otherwise, someone could secretly use telekinesis to steal the sword and pretend to be the hero. A fair restriction, indeed. But who would have thought that this restriction could even overpower the current Demon King…!

“Aaah! It’s going to fall!”

“No! Exia!!!”

While Sien struggled, the sword continued to slide toward the cliff. Lier and Exia called out to each other desperately, like siblings being torn apart. At the very moment when the legendary holy sword, bestowed by the goddess, was about to plummet off the cliff and be lost forever…

“All things take root on the earth… Entangle.”

-“Huh?!”

The weeds on the ground suddenly grew dozens of times larger, transforming into thick, dense vines resembling a jungle. These vines wrapped around Exia, halting its slide.

“I couldn’t use direct magic on it, so I indirectly stopped it from falling. Now go and retrieve it yourself.”

“Thank you, Mana!!! I love you!!!”

“You’re welcome.”

The red-haired elf mage, called Mana, responded in her calm, serene voice, with barely any change in tone.

“Need any help, Sien?”

“No, it’s fine… Dismiss.”

*Snap.*

With a short snap of his fingers, the telekinesis spell on Exia was dispelled, and the excessive pressure on his left hand vanished without a trace, as if it had never been there.

“What a disgrace…”

Not only had the Demon King failed to see through the holy sword’s properties and been forced into a struggle, but he had also been outdone by a lowly elf mage in spellcasting. The humiliation was unbearable. Sien hadn’t felt his pride take such a hit in a long time.

“I suppose I’ll have to vent some stress by wiping out the remaining enemies.”

With those words, Sien lifted his longsword with a menacing look on his face.

One hour later,

“Alright, it’s time for a reflection.”

Mana declared solemnly, planting her staff into the ground. Under the clear night sky, the fire they were gathered around crackled softly.

“Oww… I think my bone is broken here.”

“Hold on. Cure Light Wounds.”

“Ah… thank you.”

Lier, bruised all over and wrapped in bandages, groaned as Esther, who stood beside him, anxiously cast healing spells on him. Watching this, Mana cleared her throat with a small cough.

“So, about why we struggled this time… I think it was largely because Gareum fell early and our formation collapsed.”

“Hmm, I apologize.”

The dwarf wearing a helmet hung his head low, but Mana shook her head.

“No, it was just bad luck. You couldn’t have known that arrow would hit your shoulder so precisely at that moment. A little deeper, and it would have hit your carotid artery, so in that sense, we were fortunate.”

“Hmm.”

“But, ultimately, that was the reason we struggled. We had to pull Sien, who usually flanks and pressures the enemy’s rear, back to defend.”

Which led to the loss of the holy sword due to the enemy shaman’s magic, Mana added.

“Next time, if you lose the sword, Lier, you must run and retrieve it yourself, no matter what. We’ve confirmed this time that we can’t touch it.”

“Got it… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lier nodded firmly with a determined look. This would suffice. Though still inexperienced and awkward, he was the type who never repeated the same mistake once he learned from it. That much made him worthy of the title “hero.”

That being said…

“Who would have thought that no one but the owner could pick up the sword if it flies off? That’s really inconvenient.”

Sien grumbled, half-seriously.

It’s true that losing one’s weapon isn’t common, but it’s not impossible either. Whether from getting hit by magic or struck by an opponent’s blow, the sword could easily slip out of one’s hand.

For ordinary weapons, you could prepare spares, but… this was the holy sword. There’s no substitute for it.

Therefore, to maintain combat strength, someone other than Lier should be able to retrieve the sword, but…

“Isn’t there any way to ease that restriction a bit? So that comrades could pick it up, too?”

“It’s possible?”

“Hmph, what a ridiculous… What did you say?”

Sien was momentarily taken aback, but the holy sword continued in a calm voice, unaffected by his reaction.

-“I mean, yes, it’s possible. If you want, I can lower the authorization level so that all of you can wield me.”

“You can really do that? Wasn’t this a restriction directly imposed by the goddess?”

-“Well, I’m the most special ultra-hyper-special holy sword in the world, so a little flexibility is just part of my nature,” it said, striking a boastful tone.

-“Anyway, I can adjust it to that level. But I can’t just do it on my own, I need the permission of my master…”

“Is that so? Then do it right away! Grant access to all five of us here,” Lier exclaimed boldly. Everyone else was taken aback by his command.

Gareum cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Is this really… wise? I’m not trying to question your goodwill, but it’s a bit too much trust to place in people you’ve known for less than three months?”

“It’s necessary for battle, right? And do you really think any of you would run off with the holy sword? It’s not like you can sell it anywhere, anyway. Don’t you agree?” Lier chuckled.

Seeing his easygoing smile, the others couldn’t help but laugh along, including Esther, Gareum, and even Mana, who usually showed little emotion.

Everyone except for Sien, that is.

‘Stealing the holy sword… isn’t that a bad idea, right?,’ he thought, as his sharp mind quickly analyzed the potential benefits of this plan.

The hero’s combat power currently depended at least half….no, almost 90% on the holy sword’s power. If he could steal it, he could severely hinder the hero’s growth. If he took it and stashed it in some corner of the Demon King’s castle, it would be almost impossible to retrieve, which could work out quite well…

“…No, better not.”

The prophecy stated that “the hero will grow to be on par with me.” The holy sword wasn’t listed as a necessary condition. There was still a possibility that the hero would grow to that level even without the sword.

It was wiser to act on the prophecy that the goddess had foretold, as it was practically certain in terms of causality. That way, there would be fewer risks in the long run. Messing around unnecessarily could ruin everything.

“Besides”

Sien looked at his companions gathered around the campfire.

Lier and Esther were engaged in what was now an almost romantic comedy-like atmosphere, while Exia teased them with a mischievous grin. Gareum was sipping his drink with a solemn expression, and Mana had already pulled out a magic book and was engrossed in it.

It wasn’t a bad sight.

Surprisingly so.

“I suppose I can afford to enjoy the journey for a little while.”

He had been so busy during his time as the Demon King, surely, he deserved a little rest. Sien convinced himself of that.

Yes.

That incident… I remember it now.

It’s surprising I had forgotten it, given how vivid the memory is…

“Did… did that child really pull out the holy sword?”

“I can hardly believe it, but that appearance…”

As the murmuring crowd’s gazes bore into her, Sion cursed her own foolishness.

To be fair to Sion, it wasn’t unreasonable that she had forgotten.

Even though Lier had shared the sword’s authority with his companions as a safeguard, he never once dropped Exia during a battle afterward. Given that this was still early in their adventure, it’s understandable that this memory might have been buried beneath the many events that followed. Of course, such excuses mean nothing in the current situation.

“…Huh?”

The priest with glasses broke out in a cold sweat and then suddenly stood up, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“The Hero has descended upon us!!!!”

“Wow!!!”

“Is it true?!! Really!?!?!”

“Praise Salem!!!! Praise the Goddess!!!!!!”

The crowd erupted in cheers in response. The columns supporting the central temple shook as if struck by an earthquake, though it was purely due to the collective roar of voices rather than any physical impact.

And in the midst of all this commotion, Sion stood there, utterly bewildered.

“What is going on…” she muttered to herself.

Her, a hero? The irony was almost unbearable. A Demon King moonlighting as a hero—what kind of world is this? She had to explain. If she didn’t, it would tarnish the honor of her friend, Lier. Just as she was about to speak, a thought stopped her.

“……Ah.” Sion paused.

“Wait a minute, do I really need to explain this?”

Her mind began to race at high speed once more.

It was too late to regret anything now, the event had already happened. Even at her peak, it would have been impossible for her to alter the memories of so many witnesses. The fact that “a young girl pulled out the holy sword” was bound to spread far and wide.

What was done was done; there was no turning back. So, if controlling the flow of information was out of the question, what difference would it make whether she explained or not?

‘First, if I don’t explain…’

Sion would be treated as the next hero. Even without a divine oracle, the common belief that pulling the holy sword equaled having the qualifications of a hero would prevail. She might lose some things, but she stood to gain even more. Currently, she was just a miserable lower-class citizen living in the slums. There wasn’t much further to fall.

‘On the other hand, if I do explain…’

In this case, she really could fall further.

She had built up enough power to prove that she was the Demon King if she wanted to. It wouldn’t be difficult, but the treatment she received would change drastically—from admiration and cheers to suspicion and fear. Survival, let alone luxury, would become a struggle.

Inquisitors from the Church of the Goddess would come after her head, and glory-seeking individuals looking to claim the title of “Demon King Slayer” could attack at any time.

What would she gain by enduring all this? Nothing but the preservation of the title of “hero” for Lier’s sake. But did she really need to keep that promise of loyalty now, after all that had happened? Lier was dead, after all.

‘Not really.’

Sion made up her mind in an instant.

After her reincarnation, she had no particular grand ambition. She just wanted to rise to a moderately high position, enjoy wealth and power, and live comfortably. If that path involved pretending to be a hero, so be it.

‘Good. It’s decided.’

Having made up her mind in such a short time, Sion raised the holy sword high into the air with a solemn expression.

“O-Ohhh…”

“So divine…”

“How can she be so noble…?”

The crowd in the temple collectively sighed in awe.

The Church of the Goddess uses the sun as its primary symbol, so the temple’s roof is always open at the center, allowing sunlight to pour in. At the heart of this sunlight, the small girl holding the holy sword shone brilliantly.

Though her appearance was shabby and dirty, it only made the miracle seem even more striking. After all, wasn’t the legendary first hero Lier also a commoner?

And this time, the hero was even beautiful.

“Oh… Hero, my dear Hero!!!”

The priest, now shedding tears, knelt and repeatedly bowed on the spot. Some of the crowd began to mimic his actions, following his lead.

Meanwhile, Sion struggled to stifle her laughter as she watched the scene unfold.

‘A hero, me? Pfft… Ha!’

She had once been part of a hero’s party, and now she was being hailed as a hero herself. Even to her, this was an absurd rise in status.

In her previous life, she had been a master of deception, and it seemed fate had set her on a similar path once more. What a strange destiny indeed.

‘Well, fine. The only thing left now is figuring out how to mimic that guy’s techniques…’

In the final battle, Lier had drawn out the full 120% of the holy sword’s power. He had been able to send out slashes that could cut through steel like butter, harness the sunlight to create explosions, and even heal his allies. Combined with his near-perfect physical abilities, it had been a grueling fight.

But fortunately, most of those miracles were within Sion’s reach to replicate, more or less.

She could secretly chant a similar spell and then use illusion magic to cover it with a holy-looking effect.

‘The only thing I can’t mimic is the divine power… but I’ll figure something out eventually.’

Sion’s attitude was one of complete nonchalance. She had every reason to be confident. A typical magician would never dream of mimicking a hero’s techniques. They would need to chant their spells, and even if they succeeded, they wouldn’t be able to hide the lingering traces of their magic.

But Sion was no ordinary magician; she was a Demon King. She could skip the chanting entirely and conceal her magic’s traces as cleanly as she wished. After all, during her three years traveling with Lier, trickery like this had been her bread and butter.

“Yaaawn…”

“?”

But at that moment, a voice rang out, disrupting Sion’s smug smile.

“Why is it so noisy today…? It’s more tumultuous than usual. Can’t we get a bit of peace and quiet for the sword’s rest?”

“……..”

– “…..Huh? But for some reason, the scenery is different than usual…..Huh? Huh? Huh????”

Inside the room, a distinctive mischievous, childlike voice could be heard. The one who, in this situation, was hoped not to wake up the most.

-“What? Why am I summoned?”

The holy sword Exia. The being that would become the greatest obstacle to the imitation of the false hero has now opened its eyes at this very moment.