Chapter 314: The Demon Race Must Die (Patreon)

Two days had passed since the first clash.

"This is why I hate nobles..."

Haston, the White-Robed Hero, was seething.

They had barely reached the Northern border when several more nobles pulled their troops out of the ranks.

The army of one million was now down to half.

He abandoned his plan to encircle Gaderia and decided to settle things with the Demon Race head-on, in open battle. Truth be told, that suited a Hero better anyway.

When the column crossed a few hills and came out before a plain, Haston smiled.

The decisive battlefield had come sooner than he'd expected.

He could feel the presence of a Demon.

"Only one Demon came?"

Through the dust and the roar of the wind, Haston saw just one Demon in a black cloak.

One lone Demon, standing before an army of five hundred thousand!

The ranks instantly erupted in murmurs.

"That has to be Qual, the Sage of Corruption!"

"Didn't they say Qual was huge and hideous? That can't be him."

"Has Gaderia finally come to surrender? Did they kick a Demon out on purpose?"

"Don't you think that one's a little scary? Cold as ice."

"What's there to be scared of? We've got the White-Robed Hero with us! I don't believe one Demon can stand against our five hundred thousand! Not even Qual could!"

The mercenaries and adventurers in the ranks, who weren't trained soldiers, all started chattering.

Haston didn't mind. If anything, these men were more down-to-earth than the nobles.

"Since Gaderia became independent, the Demons of Gaderia have never deliberately harmed humans. We've only ever fought back because we were forced to. Why must you still hunt us down?"

This time Nanoda made no effort to hide her broken horn. Her expression was calm and her voice wasn't loud, yet all five hundred thousand soldiers could hear it.

"You're trying to reason with us? You? A Demon?"

Haston sounded as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world, so funny that he ground his teeth. The nameless fire in his chest had found dry kindling and burned hotter with every breath.

Though it was broad daylight, the nightmare from his memories assaulted his mind once more.

A sea of flames. Wailing. Blood. His mother's embrace. And those horned creatures, one after another.

He would have his revenge! He would never forgive them! The Demon Race had to die!

Haston clenched his fists.

"When have you Demons ever reasoned with us humans?"

Nanoda frowned slightly. Even from this far away, she could feel the killing intent rising steadily from him.

"I'm telling you the truth. The humans of Gaderia, the humans of the Alliance, can all vouch for it. Perhaps you think we Demons rule over the humans in these lands, but in fact we treat them far better than many nobles do."

"Hahahahaha!" Haston, the Hero in white robes, roared with laughter.

"Every word of it is a lie! You're only winning human trust so you can pen us up like livestock and slaughter us all in the end!"

*

The boy was born in a remote little village.

It lay on the border of the domain. The domain's knights only ever appeared in the towns, and none of them could be bothered to garrison such a backwater.

Small as the village was, it had never suffered any disaster or calamity. The villagers paid their taxes every year, and though they were poor, they were content. They harvested hollow-stemmed greens every season and, now and then, even had some game to eat.

Since childhood, the boy had longed to become a Hero recognized by every nation.

He wanted everyone in the world to know that the Hero whose name shook the land had come from a little village like this!

Everything changed one morning.

Playing outside the village, the boy happened upon a wounded stranger.

The stranger had a pair of pointed horns. Something had pierced his abdomen, and he could only inch forward, bracing himself against the trees. The moment his eyes met the boy's, he slowly collapsed.

At first the boy was frightened. But he crept closer, crouched down, and poked the strange figure with a stick, and a little pity stirred in him.

It took enormous effort, but the boy dragged the stranger back to the village.

The villagers noticed and hurriedly snatched up their farm tools as weapons.

Only then did the boy learn that the stranger was a Demon, the kind his parents had told him about since he was small.

Demons murder people. Demons eat people. Demons are the enemies of humankind.

"Save me."

The half-dead Demon actually begged. A Demon, pleading for help!

"He doesn't look that scary, does he? He can talk, just like us!"

No one knew who said it, but the people who had been about to kill the Demon suddenly hesitated.

In the end, the villagers tried some simple bandaging and treatment on him.

A month went by. The Demon seemed to have good luck. He had lain in bed all that time, dormant, but now he opened his eyes, and when he tore off the bandages, the wound had healed.

The boy visited the Demon every day. This time the shock made him drop the wooden basin he'd brought for changing the bandages.

The Demon looked at the boy, and the boy looked at the Demon, eyes locked.

Seeing the Demon's dazed expression, the boy suddenly summoned his courage and pointed at him.

"You'd better thank me! I'm the one who brought you back, or you'd be dead!"

"Thenk... yoo?"

The Demon thanked the boy in clumsy, halting speech.

The boy laughed. He thought the Demon was funny, like a big kid just learning to talk.

The Demon joined the village's daily life. At first, most people didn't like the odd-looking Demon and wanted him driven out.

"He's really strong! He can help out with the work!"

Because of that one line from the boy, the Demon stayed and gradually won the villagers' trust.

"Thenk... thank you." The Demon would always thank the villagers with a goofy smile.

Then, late one night, a scream shattered the quiet. Everything began on that restless night.

The houses began to collapse and burn. Father's shouts came from outside the door, followed by the clash of blades and the thud of heavy bodies hitting the ground.

Mother clutched the boy tightly to her chest, letting burning, broken beams fall on her.

The boy tried to fight back, but the collapsing house crushed them both in moments.

From the ruins, the boy learned what the screams meant. The villagers were shouting in terror: "The Demons are here!"

Through the tiny gaps beside his mother's corpse, the boy saw a sight he would never forget as long as he lived.

Demons walked past one after another, butchering the villagers with all sorts of magic. In an instant, the village had become hell on earth. The Demons ignored every plea for mercy and slaughtered every human in sight.

Where these Demons had come from, and why they were killing the villagers, the boy had no idea.

But as he lay there with a hand clamped over his mouth, trembling among the corpses and rubble, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

"Thank you."