The Unveiled Truth (1)
"So anyway, what if there was poison in the water bottle?"
"That's possible! Set the bottle aside for now. And find out who prepared it!"
"Right… Wait. Now that I think about it, I'm the one who brought that bottle."
"Ed, you scoundrel… How could you?!"
"Wait, hold on—how did this turn into my fault?!"
Ah, that's right—Ben still hadn't fully recovered from the aftermath of the battle.
In other words, he wasn't in his right mind.
Why would you call someone like that here? Are you trying to get me killed?
I briefly glanced at Ed with an exasperated expression. Still, he'd only called Ben out of concern for me, and he did seem genuinely flustered, so I decided to cut him some slack.
Not that I was worried they'd send someone like Dahar, the 12th Legion's adjutant, to replace him or anything.
Sensing that these two might actually end up dueling to the death, I quickly got my coughing under control and called out to them.
"I'm fine, so both of you, calm down… Keh-hek."
"Demon-nim!"
"This makes no sense…! There's no blood, and the mana stone didn't react either… What is going on? Is the mana stone defective? We'll need to replace it the moment we return!"
No, that's not it.
Ah, damn it…
I was completely burned out.
What was burned out? My mental stamina.
I never imagined proving I wasn't poisoned would be so mentally exhausting.
Even so, neither of them truly believed me.
They just convinced themselves, "Our brave and noble Demon-nim must be enduring the poison alone so we wouldn't worry. He's pretending he's fine—let's just play along this once."
I was grateful they stopped there, really—but why did it feel like I was losing my mind?
"That time when Demon-nim flattened the former 7th Legion Commander and landed right in the middle—!"
A loud, overly excited voice rang out.
Utterly drained, I sat on the cloak Ed had spread out for me, leaning blankly against the side of the carriage as I listened to him go on.
A cool breeze tousled my white hair, slipping through the strands and brushing across my scalp, like it was trying to snap me back to my senses.
Thanks to that, my head started to clear, and memories of my legendary tale began creeping back into the empty space in my mind.
Yeah. That. That's what's giving me ulcers. This is seriously insane.
I didn't kill the Hero.
I didn't stop him from self-destructing, nor did I throw myself onto him to absorb the explosion.
Even the tale about the former 7th Legion Commander had been heavily distorted.
Might as well set the record straight now.
My name is Deon Hart.
Due to certain unavoidable circumstances, I'm currently living under the alias Demon Arut in the Demon King's Castle—
—And I was the last companion of the final Hero.
"The final Hero," huh…
I tilted my head back against the carriage wall.
The black sky was studded with three moons and countless stars, filling my vision.
…It's laughable.
The final Hero. The last companion.
These were terms coined by the Empire. The reason wasn't anything deep.
The Empire just liked things that sounded impressive. Calling us "the Hero and his companions" wasn't dramatic enough. Adding "final" gave it more weight.
But to me, that word—final—was meaningless. Especially when applied to a Hero.
Because nothing is ever truly final.
Let's say a family has two children. The second child is the youngest.
But if they have a third? The "youngest" title moves from the second to the third.
The same goes for Heroes.
The world values balance. The Demon King's power is overwhelmingly disruptive, so as long as he exists, the world will inevitably summon another Hero—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.
When that day comes, the title of "final" will pass from my fallen comrade to the next Hero.
In that case, I'm not the last companion of the last Hero—I'm simply the final companion of one among many Heroes throughout history.
To put it plainly: the word final isn't worth getting hung up on.
It's just an empty embellishment meant to make things sound grander.
"And then Demon-nim grabbed the self-destructing Hero by the shoulders—just like that!"
Ah. They were still telling that story?
I wasn't trying to stop the Hero from exploding. He was just speaking too quietly, so I leaned in to hear him better.
So… where do I even begin explaining all this?
Right. I should start with when I was chosen to accompany the Hero to the Demon King's Castle.
…Thinking back on it, it's a miracle I'm still alive.
Just recalling those events made a chill run down my spine.
The road to the Demon King's Castle was brutal. No—that word doesn't even come close.
All the others chosen as companions died along the way. Every last one of them.
How can you call that merely "brutal"?
By the time the castle finally came into view, I was the only one left alive. And the Hero, having lost all his other companions, placed absolute trust in me.
But really, I was just lucky.
Yeah. I survived by sheer luck.
Watching the Legion members excitedly babble on about me, I let out a bitter smile.
"From here on, I'll go alone."
"...Are you serious?"
The question slipped out on its own.
Could the Hero not see what lay ahead?
No—that was impossible. A Hero wasn't called that for nothing. A Hero was someone born with overwhelming talent and an extraordinary body, chosen to stand against the Demon King.
He could see it all, clearer than I could.
I turned my head again to look at the massive Demon King's Castle.
It was as imposing as ever. So that's where the Demon King lived.
If only he'd just stay holed up in there… why did he have to—
Why the hell did he come out to greet us like this?
The grand and towering Demon King's Castle.
Normally, one's eyes would be drawn to its sheer size and majesty, but right now, something else drew far more attention.
The dark swarm clustered in front of it.
Right—the demon army. No doubt legions that had come out to watch the Demon King's battle firsthand.
Did you catch that? "Had come out."
In other words, it meant the Demon King himself was already out front, standing before the castle.
Shouldn't the final boss be sitting in the deepest part of the dungeon? Why was he already out in the open?
"Originally, the role of a 'companion' is to clear a path for the Hero to reach the Demon King. The battle itself is solely the Hero's burden. So, Mr. Hart, your role ends here. You've done well."
"..."
"But… if I win, I'll come back here. So please… would you wait for me until the fight is over?"
"…Of course."
Looking down again at the vast sea of enemies, I felt sure.
The Hero would lose. There was no way he could win.
It was already overwhelming with just the Demon King—now he had to deal with that entire army too? Even for a Hero, that was impossible.
There was something he hadn't said out loud.
A companion's job was to clear the way to the Demon King. That included holding off that army so the Hero could face the Demon King one-on-one.
The fact that he didn't say that out loud… meant he was trying to spare me a meaningless death.
If someone had to die, it was better to let at least one survive.
That was exactly the kind of thinking a Hero would have.
"I…"
The words got stuck in my throat. It felt like someone was squeezing my neck, cutting off my air.
What was I trying to say to him?
It's not like I could stop him—not that I should even try.
Even if I called out to him, there was nothing to say. I didn't dare tell him to turn back.
Heroes were born to kill the Demon King. Turning back now, when the Demon King stood right before him, would mean abandoning his very reason for being.
And yet… I couldn't bring myself to say I'd go with him either.
I'd fought so hard to live. Struggled my way here with everything I had. There was no way I could say, so easily, that I'd walk into certain death.
Dammit… I wanted to live.
"..."
I shut my mouth and tried to organize my thoughts.
But in this moment… what could I possibly say?
…Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"Then, I'll be off now."
"…Yes."
By the time I barely managed to get those words out, he had already descended the cliff where we were hiding and was walking toward the Demon King's army.
His steps carried not the slightest hint of hesitation.
They were full of confidence, as if the thought of defeat never even crossed his mind. His steps only came to a stop once he stood before the Demon King.
A brief exchange of words followed, and the Demon King gestured around him. The surrounding troops quickly retreated, forming a wide circle.
'So he has some sense of honor, at least.'
Honestly, I hadn't expected them to fight one-on-one.
He is the Demon King, after all. A position where even cowardly acts are easily forgiven.
But not long after the battle began, my thoughts changed.
'What the hell… what is that?'
He didn't clear the area out of honor.
He cleared it because he was sure he would win.
It was only then that I realized why he was called the most powerful Demon King in history.
He was overwhelming.
And his opponent was a Hero.
Yet the Demon King, with a bored, even listless expression, deflected every attack as if he were a grown-up toying with a child.
The outcome was inevitable—the Demon King's victory.
A blade that had pierced through the Hero's abdomen and emerged from his back now dripped with thick, red blood. The Demon King looked down on him as if disappointed, then grabbed the sword's hilt, clearly intending to finish him off.
It was then—
"Who's there?!"
"!"
I froze on the spot. A chill ran down my spine.
That chilling voice, like claws scraping against vocal cords, had clearly come from behind me.
Instinctively, I drew my dagger.
And when I saw who it was, my grip loosened immediately.
'…An ogre.'
There's no way I can beat that.
It can even talk. Which means it's been influenced by the Demon King's power—it's a demon now, and far more powerful than a regular ogre.
I had to run.
The only fortunate thing was: when it came to running away, I was second to none.
'Eighty percent luck and twenty percent nimble movement—that's how I've survived this long.'
Although honestly, "evasion skills" would be more accurate than "nimble movement."
'Still, for the sake of my pride, I'll stick with "nimble"…'
Whoosh!
"Ugh—damn it!"
I barely dodged. Swinging a sword without warning—wasn't a bit of conversation before attacking basic etiquette?
Grateful for my quick reflexes and the flexible waist that let me bend back just in time, I retreated a couple of steps from the ogre.
And then I realized—
'Wait, this is a cliff!'
Crack. The ground supporting my heels crumbled, falling into the depths below.
My only escape route was now blocked—by that thing.
The absurdly long sword it held, the bulging muscles of its upper body, and the calm, confident look on its face told me it understood the situation completely.
I gave a small nod.
'Looks like my luck's finally run out.'
If it had been dumb, I might have been able to trick it into falling off the cliff. But judging by its demeanor, it wasn't stupid.
If I was going to die here, it would be because of that monster in front of me.
Still, I couldn't give up. Life was too precious.
'I've fought tooth and nail to survive this long!'
I didn't even want to be a Hero's companion in the first place.
So I refuse to die like this!
If anyone's dying, it's you. I'm living through this.
I gripped a dagger in each hand and charged straight at it. I didn't scream or shout to alert the enemies below—no point in doing something that stupid.
I just ran at it silently, mouth shut tight and eyes wide open.
It looked surprised for a second, then sneered as if amused, raising its sword again.
It stepped forward with a heavy stomp, raising its sword high—and as it slashed down through the air toward me, I never blinked once, searing the scene into my mind.
And I counted the timing in my head—
'Now!'