Chapter 4: The Hero and the Demon King Finally Crossed Swords (Or Almost Did)
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
When the Demon King became the Hero, and the Hero lost his way, the world was doomed. …Well, not doomed exactly. But some very interesting things were about to happen.
—Years later, on a certain day, a marquis who had been dragged to the castle by the Demon King for sparring would drop his rose and rephrase it that way.
The Demon King, now acquainted with the princess under the guise of a human scholar, was in an excellent mood. Having successfully fooled her with his naturally harmless appearance, he felt even more pleased with himself. —So much so that he immediately changed back into his usual attire and dragged one, two, three, four, five, six, seven barons out to spar for fun.
And perhaps because he was in such a good mood, after thoroughly beating them up, he even called for a healer to patch them back together.
For several days, this was his routine: fight, relax, change clothes, and—graciously—grant the princess a bit of freedom, making sure not to pressure her too much.
During this time, the princess, who hadn’t seen the Demon King for days, inevitably turned her attention back to the papers scattered on the floor. As she read them, she became more and more convinced that “Joshua” was a brilliant scholar. Admittedly, a bit… specialized. But in his chosen field, his insights were exceptional.
The princess snuck into that private study a few more times, and on one such visit, she finally encountered the Demon King again.
He greeted her with the same pleasant smile and continued their previous conversation. When she noticed the scar on his hand and asked about it, he said casually, “It’s nothing. I was injured by a demon.”
The princess gasped, horrified. Meanwhile, the Demon King, recalling how he’d put those seven barons in the infirmary, magnanimously decided not to “pursue the matter.”
The princess was deeply moved. She believed that Joshua had been grievously wounded by demons and yet bore no grudge, harboring neither hatred nor impatience. Instead, he was kind and forgiving—
Joshua was truly a good man. This impression only solidified when, later, she offered a suggestion for the withering demon vine. “It’s really not that complicated,” she explained. “Demons simply lack intelligence. Without human wisdom, they can’t survive independently. That’s why they resort to kidnapping us.”
The Demon King, who had been smiling and nodding along, froze.
…
He cracked his knuckles. Pop pop pop. Fine. You just helped me solve my problem. I’ll let you live… for now.
Furious but restraining himself, the Demon King ordered his servants to escort the princess away. Then, an idea struck him: the perfect way to send her back.
When he later heard news of the Hero approaching, he grinned. That night, he snuck into human territory, disguised himself in the armor of a human knight, put on a helmet, and slipped into the castle.
“Princess,” he declared in a solemn voice, “I am the Hero. I have come to rescue you. Please, come with me.”
Under his helmet, the Demon King was smirking. Cold. Mysterious. Perfect. The princess hesitated. “Can I bring one more person?”
The Demon King’s voice turned stern. “No, Princess. The king of Orland issued a decree: whoever rescues you will marry you and inherit the throne. I fought my way here for that right. As for the others, I am under no obligation to save them.”
While playing the role of the Hero, the Demon King had no problem throwing his arch-nemesis under the carriage. The princess stared at him in stunned silence.
The Demon King relented—graciously. “Very well. If you insist, I’ll come back for the other later. But for now, I can only take you. One person at a time.”
The princess accepted his explanation and followed him out of the castle. After leading her far enough, he stopped. “We’re at a safe place now. I’ll return for the other later.”
She nodded. And then he promptly left her on the border of human territory. Satisfied, the Demon King turned back, hopping lightly on his feet. When he was far enough away, he called his dragon, tossed aside his helmet, and gleefully flew home beneath the moonlight.
In his mind, he was already seeing it: a lush, thriving garden. But when he arrived, what greeted him was devastation—ruins where his beloved “little ones” had been. He froze, staring at the wreckage. His heart sank.
He walked among the fallen—his flowers, his saplings, his precious little vine—until he found it, barely alive, buried beneath a mound of dead leaves. Because it had been buried, it had survived.
The Demon King hugged the vine and nearly wept. The vine brushed against him, clinging to him, and when his tears finally fell, it pointed toward the culprit’s direction.
The Demon King wiped his eyes. He would avenge them. But first— He stayed. He dug graves.
Stripped of his knight’s armor, down to his shirt and trousers, he carefully gathered every branch and petal, wrapping them in cloth from the discarded uniform, sorting them with reverence.
Only after burying every one of his “little ones” did he stand and follow the vine’s lead. He summoned his dragon and flew across his domain, searching. He followed every trace, every broken path, until finally, by a great river, he saw him: A man with bright orange hair, a sword at his side.
The moment the Demon King laid eyes on him, a deep, primal loathing surged within him—more than for anything else in this world. Without hesitation, he raised his hand.
You. You must be the Hero. A massive magic circle blazed across the sky, and the Hero—standing by the river—turned, just in time to see a terrifying dragon descending upon him.
The Hero set out on his journey with his trusty sword, a bundle of supplies, a map, and a whole lot of courage. Along the way, he helped three young men, five women, eighteen children, and twenty-seven elders. By the time he was done, most of his wealth was gone, so he had to hunt as he traveled to survive.
During these hunts, the Hero caught quite a few animals, trading most of them for small sums of money to keep going, but he kept two adorable white rabbits as companions.
He thought, Poor Princess must be terribly scared. Once I rescue her, I’ll need something to mend her broken spirit. These two cute rabbits would be perfect for that role.
Since his own appearance wasn’t exactly “healing,” the Hero decided the rabbits would do the comforting. And because he had to find plants to feed them, he spent a lot of time wandering near the forest.
But the map was confusing him more and more. At every crossroads, he could only guess which path was right.
Ding! The Hero activated his ancestral skill: Hero’s Intuition. Ding!
Unfortunately, the intuition was deemed invalid. No direction was found. Unsurprisingly, he wandered further and further off course, hopelessly lost on his journey.
While walking, he pondered deeply about the rabbits, then carefully put them into a sack. The rabbits kicked him twice in protest.
The Hero pressed on, desperately looking for landmarks that might help, until finally he reached an area unlike the forest— A den of monsters.
When a thorny branch reached out toward him, the Hero set down the sack holding the rabbits and grabbed his sword. After hacking down every monster in sight, he finally relaxed and pulled out the map. He identified the place: the Deathlands.
Now with a landmark and the sun to guide him, the Hero smiled, feeling confident to continue rescuing the princess.
He reached to pick up the sack. He did pick up a sack. But the two cute white rabbits inside had escaped. The Hero forced a smile.
With the sun finally helping him find direction, he sadly set off toward the Demon Realm, thinking he’d have to rely on his smile alone to soothe the princess’s heart. His smile was worse than crying.
For several days he wandered—sometimes east, sometimes west, south, then north—carefully tracing a new path on the map.
Eventually, he arrived at the banks of a rushing river. He knelt down to draw water and drink, then smiled at his calm reflection in the palm of his hand: This is it. With a bright smile and hair like a little orange sun, he looked hopeful.
Suddenly, he noticed a disturbance in the water. Turning around, he saw a black, fearsome dragon flying straight at him. A massive magic circle shot toward him.
The Hero rolled away just in time, spotted a cave nearby, and darted inside, intending to hide and then strike back. Drawing his sword, he successfully lured the dragon over.
The dragon rested beside the cave entrance. The Hero gripped his sword tightly. But in the next moment, an overwhelming sense of danger surged from within. The Hero activated his ancestral intuition and struck with a powerful blow infused with bright light magic at a figure descending from the dragon.
At the same time, a shadowy dark magic blast slammed into him. Strands of hair were sliced and scattered. The dragon was wounded and collapsed nearby. Trees toppled all around. In the ensuing chaos, the cave entrance collapsed. The Hero and that mysterious figure tumbled into the swift river.
He managed to grab his sword a few times while struggling upstream before losing consciousness. The current swept them both away, drifting farther and farther from their original path.
The Demon King, injured and chasing the Hero, was pressed down by the Hero’s frantic actions. Originally able to swim back up, he eventually floated helplessly alongside the Hero, drifting into the unknown.
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