Chapter 270: Side Story - Interlude (1)

They gnawed on the meat. It was perhaps a bit undercooked. Each chew resulted in a trickle of deep crimson blood running down their chins, and the meat was so tough that it made their jaws ache just to eat it.

The meat wasn't that of ordinary animals; it was demon meat. Although it wasn't something anyone in their right mind would enjoy, it wasn't entirely unpalatable.

Over the years, such meals had become commonplace. By purging the Dark Power, which was lethal to regular humans, from the meat, the demon meat became edible, though still unappetizing.

They had learned various methods to improve the taste of demon meat, but this time they had opted not to use any special recipes. With limited time and resources, they couldn't indulge in elaborate cooking processes. Be that as it may, this didn't mean they had to settle for bland meat, so they had added some simple spices like salt, pepper, and others to enhance the flavor of their meal.

Most of their spices had been taken from the demons. It wasn't as if the land here was completely devoid of things for human consumption. In fact, demons had a culture of their own when it came to gourmet dining. Although the ingredients they utilized were vastly different, there were some ingredients and spices that were fit for human taste in the mix — plenty for humans to use.

"Is it good?"

"No. It's quite disgusting, not really suitable to drink."

"In spite of that, you're continuing to drink it."

"It's been a long time since we've come across human alcohol, rather than the ones for demons. Well, you couldn't really call this alcohol. It's basically garbage, and it has no depth. Just strong water.... Even so, we were given it as a gift, so shouldn't I have a proper taste of it?" the person grumbled while refilling their glass.

Despite their unfavorable circumstances, there were five extravagantly ornate drinking glasses on the ground. These were mementos from a previous adventure, repurposed for special occasions. The glasses were filled to the brim with a thick murky liquid.

"Well, then, let's make a toast," said Anise Slywood.

As an avid drinker, she took the lead and raised her glass high into the air. Despite being only a glass, it felt weighty, probably due to the dense liquid filling it.

They had acquired the alcohol from a trio of knights they had stumbled upon a few days prior. It was clear that they had been part of a larger group, but they had encountered the Black Fog.

Only three members of their group had survived the battle... or rather, the massacre. They had been devoid of any spirit and utterly drained as they tried to escape from the area and make their way back home. They had clearly expressed their will to flee from the Devildom and return to their hometowns, far away from this hellish place.

Unfortunately, their wishes would likely never come true. Although the trio had been treated, there had been nothing that could be done about their broken spirits. If three defeated and despairing knights could make their way out of this place, it wouldn't have been called the Devildom in the first place.

— I pray for your safe return to your hometown.

It was at moments like these that Anise really felt like the Saint. She had prayed for the defeated knights with a benevolent smile and mourned their dead companions. Moreover, she had healed their wounds as well.

The alcohol had come from these three knights, and while they hadn't explicitly said why they carried it, it had been easy to deduce their intentions. It had been clear that the defeated soldiers had planned to end their lives by drinking the strong liquor once fear and despair had become too much to bear.

That was how the knights had come across their group. To be frank, it wasn't an uncommon encounter. Their group had experienced too many similar situations. It was to the extent where it was becoming difficult to keep track of the encounters.

They were already in far too deep to make their escape, but for some reason... people had made up their minds to flee. Some were survivors mourning their dead companions, and there were entire armies turning around at the decision of their wise commander.

They had seen knights and soldiers who had on old dented armor and were armed with cracked and edgeless weapons. Some had been wearing numerous battle tags — of which some were relics of their comrades and others self-made medals — on their wrists or around their necks.

In the end, they had failed to see their mission through to the end and chosen to retreat. Overwhelmed by fear and despair, they had made the decision to abandon their quest to save the world and instead return to their former lives.

It was not fair to blame them though. In fact, no one could really blame them for their decision... However, many of the defeated warriors they came across felt ashamed of themselves and feared being blamed. Yet, they also held onto hope when they encountered the group.

When faced with such people, the group had to manage their facial expressions and ensure their postures were straight. They had to show a resolute and relaxed appearance — one that screamed, 'We're fine, and we have no fear or despair.' They had to present a front of absolute confidence.

The group of five had become the symbol of hope for everyone they encountered. The earnest gazes of those they met and the respect they received made them feel like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. The repeated requests they heard were always the same: "Please defeat the Demon Kings," and "Please save the world."

'It's heavy.'

As the group journeyed closer to the heart of the Devildom, the burden they bore became increasingly oppressive. Every encounter they had with those who were fleeing or had been vanquished added weight to their already heavy load.

Sienna Merdein parted her frowning lips and brought the glass to her mouth. The strong alcohol slid down her throat with surprising ease but left a sticky residue in its wake. The meat she had been chewing for what felt like an eternity seemed to have lost all flavor despite the spices that adorned it.

The same was true for the liquor. It was strong, but it tasted like nothing. Sienna knew why — she was probably messed up in the head.

Sienna put down her glass while chewing on her lips.

"Tastes like shit, doesn't it?"

Sienna heard a voice and clenched her fists before turning her gaze to the source. It was Hamel Dynas, the bandaged man, waving his glass while lying on the ground.

"The taste has no consideration for patients. Anise, everyone knows you like alcohol, but you can't really call this alcohol, can you?" continued Hamel.

"Didn't I tell you earlier, Hamel? This is not alcohol. Borrowing your words, it's water that tastes like shit," responded Anise.

"How nice of you to say so. For a moment there, I thought you had lost your mind and were offering this as alcohol," said Hamel jokingly.

He met Sienna's eyes and gave her a playful wink with the eye that was visible through his bandage.

Sienna laughed without realizing it and thought, 'What an idiot.'

She knew how attentive Hamel was. It appeared he had noticed the frown on her face, even though it had been there only for a moment.

"I offered it to you so that we could taste it together, but it looks like you don't need any consideration, Hamel," said Anise.

"On the contrary, I would say that you are the one who lacks consideration. It's not just this alcohol but this porridge as well," retorted Hamel.

"Didn't you lick the plate clean?" said Anise.

"Well, you gave it to me, so I should eat it, right? I already knew how disastrous your cooking skills are anyway," said Hamel.

"Judging by how glib your tongue seems to be, you must be better now, right?" asked Anise.

"That's right." Hamel propped himself up, laughing as he unwrapped the bandage from his face. "I was going to pretend and rest, but I couldn't because of how shitty the alcohol and porridge tasted. As you said, I'm all better, so let's stop with the needless consideration."

The bandage fell to the ground, revealing Hamel's face. Only about half of his tattered left ear remained, and there were numerous scars on his face, including one particularly deep mark.

Sienna's gaze landed on the diagonal scar that stretched from the tip of Hamel's right jaw to his left eye, continuing up to his forehead. The scar looked fresh, and she knew it had been inflicted only a few days ago. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the wound, Sienna felt her heart begin to race tensely, and she helplessly let out a stifled moan as she pressed down on her chest.

"Don't worry about it," said Hamel, looking at Sienna.

He had only narrowly avoided losing his eye to the attack that had caused the diagonal scar, which now adorned his face, but as he had reacted quickly, he managed to avoid a more serious injury. Looking back on it, he realized that they had been fortunate that the injury had not been worse.

Gavid Lindman, the Captain of the Black Fog, had been incredibly strong, befitting his title as the 'Blade of Incarceration.'

"It wasn't your fault, and this isn't the first time I've been injured, right? Sienna, you and I were just unlucky. Who could have imagined that we would run into the Blade of Incarceration during reconnaissance?" Hamel said reassuringly.

"...I should have taken you and run away in time," Sienna responded in a quivering voice while continuing to press down on her chest.

Her voice was teary and shaking as much as her pounding heart.

"We fought because we couldn't run away. Let's not talk about useless details. Both of us survived with our lives, right?" said Hamel.

Sienna was uninjured. Hamel had taken the vanguard, as always. She was never assigned to take the lead in their group of warriors. That role always fell to Hamel, Molon, or Vermouth; they would fight bravely at the forefront while Sienna unleashed her powerful spells from behind.

It had been the same when they encountered the Blade of Incarceration, but unfortunately, it had been just Sienna and Hamel — the two of them, without Vermouth, Molon, or Anise.

As always, Sienna had assumed that nothing would happen. It had been routine reconnaissance with just the two of them, a time reserved only for Sienna and Hamel. Sienna liked scouting with just Hamel. Even though they only shared lame conversations, she liked walking alone with him. She especially liked it when she could have his undivided attention.

"I told you not to worry about it," said Hamel with a frown.

He didn't like the way Sienna's shoulders were drooped and how she chewed on her lips. Their encounter with the Blade of Incarceration had really been an inevitable accident.

Had they been careless? No, not at all. As usual, Sienna had been on her guard, especially considering where they were. The same had been true of Hamel. He had not considered it a leisurely walk, simply because it was a routine mission. They had both understood the dangers of their routine mission and never let their guard down, even for a moment.

Nevertheless, they had still been caught off guard by their encounter with Gavid. The Demoneye of Divine Glory, which they had heard about only in rumors, had allowed Gavid to sneak up on them. Despite Hamel's acute senses and Sienna's powerful magic, their precautions had completely failed to prepare them for Gavid's approach.

"On the contrary, we got off with just this much because it was you and me, Sienna. If it were Molon, he would have definitely lost his head while fighting like an idiot," continued Eugene.

"Was the Blade of Incarceration so sharp?" asked Molon.

"Of course, you idiot. That bastard's called a blade for a reason. If he weren't sharp, he would have been called something else to begin with. But I'm glad to have experienced it. I roughly know the gap between us. I don't think I'll ever be able to win by myself," responded Hamel.

Hamel gave Sienna's shoulder a comforting pat. She wanted to respond, but her throat felt scratchy and dry from the alcohol. Her heart was still racing tensely, and her eyes were sore, making her vision blurry. Despite this, she could see Hamel clearly.

"Vermouth, if we fight together, it's winnable. While I take the front.... Well, what's the point of saying this now. You'll know what to do better than anyone else," said Hamel.

It was a familiar process. Throughout their journey so far, Hamel had always fought together with Vermouth. This was the case when they killed the Demon King of Carnage, the Demon King of Cruelty, and the Children of Fury. This was the same when they slayed Kamash — the chief of the giants and the biggest and strongest of the heavenly kings.

"And I'm fine too. I can do fine on my own." Hamel said with a shrug.

However, Sienna could see that the tips of Hamel's fingers were shaking, and on closer examination, she noticed it wasn't just his fingertips. It was almost unnoticeable, but his whole body was shaking. Even though he was rambling on with his usual overconfident expression, she could see a glint of cold sweat on his forehead.

The bandages wrapped around his body came loose, revealing a scarred body. There was a large scar on his right shoulder from when the Annihilation Hammer had grazed him, as well as a dozen others. He had too many wounds that had resisted even Anise's divine magic and scarred over.

Sienna knew about every one of them, so she knew that he had gotten about a dozen of them while he had been protecting her. She understood that casting powerful magic spells required more time and concentration, leaving her vulnerable to attacks. Nevertheless, Hamel had always been there, shielding her with his own body and taking the brunt of the blows that were meant for her.

'Because I'm weak.'

That wasn't true. Sienna was strong. In fact, she was the strongest wizard in the present, and even among all the wizards of the past, there was no one else as great and powerful as her.

Sienna's magic was comparable to that of the dragons, and she was powerful enough to aim for the heads of the Demon Kings. That's how powerful she was now. She had reached her current level after wandering the Devildom for sixteen years and killing numerous demons, including three Demon Kings.

Nonetheless, she had indeed been weak sixteen years ago. Being weak meant she made many fatal mistakes during battles back then. Her mistakes had always brought Sienna closer to death, but Hamel had always been there to intervene, preventing death from drawing any closer.

The scars on his body would never disappear, and they were the marks of his battles, things that Sienna would never become accustomed to. However, today in particular, the scars distressed her even more.

"So when are we leaving?" asked Hamel.

He paid no attention to the tremors. His heart hurt, and he couldn't put strength into his muscles, despite having gotten plenty of rest. He knew why though — his body was begging him to stop after being overworked for sixteen years.

"I'm fine. I'm good to fight," said Hamel in annoyance when no one gave a response.

He had been expecting Anise and Sienna to stay silent since they had warned him countless times. However, it really bothered him that the idiot, Molon, was staring at him without saying a word as well.

"Hamel." It was Vermouth who broke the silence.

Even though they had raised their glasses, Vermouth had yet to empty his liquor. He had been quiet the entire time while staring intently at his glass, not touching his drink.

Vermouth raised his gaze. His gray hair was reminiscent of a mane, befitting his last name of 'Lionheart.' Below his fringe, his golden eyes glistened with a dull light.

"You stay behind," said Vermouth.

Hamel's expression stiffened, and Sienna looked at Vermouth with surprise.

Anise gave a short sigh and nodded. 'That's the right thing.'

Anise knew Hamel's condition better than anyone else since she was in charge of treating the injured. It was true that Molon had just as many scars as Hamel, but their bodies were fundamentally different.

Molon possessed an unbelievably strong body, enough for it to be called the miracle of the gods. Even repeated reckless battles dealt no permanent damage to his body. As for Vermouth, he rarely got injured in battle, and his body was able to withstand long periods of fighting without needing rest.

Hamel was not blessed with a body as strong as his companions Molon and Vermouth. Despite his sturdiness, he was nowhere near their level. Nevertheless, what he lacked in physical strength, he made up for with his skill in battle. It was his fighting ability that had allowed him to survive this long and become one of the group's most valuable members, second only to Vermouth.

However, Ignition placed too much of a burden on his heart and core. It was a technique that pushed his body far beyond what it was capable of. Moreover, as they headed deeper into the Devildom, the enemies they faced only became stronger. Even though Hamel's skills improved as well, it hadn't been enough.

The number of times he had to resort to Ignition increased as they ventured deeper into the

Devildom. They had been wandering the territory of the demons for sixteen years. Yet, after entering the territory of the Demon King of Incarceration three years ago, Hamel had resorted to using Ignition more times than he had in the previous thirteen years combined.

As a result, Hamel's body was almost completely broken. It wouldn't be strange if he died at any moment due to his heart stopping or his veins bursting. In the worst-case scenario, his core would explode completely, causing his body to explode along with the mana circulating his body.

"...I agree with Sir Vermouth," stated Anise.

She knew she couldn't push too strongly, knowing Hamel. She knew that Hamel would take this recommendation as a humiliation. In the first place, Anise knew that Hamel had a tendency to neglect his own well-being. He would not have pushed himself to the point of breaking if he had taken better care of himself from the beginning.

"Don't fuck with me," said Hamel.

As expected, Hamel was outraged. He jumped from his seat while clutching the sword next to him. Surprised, Sienna tried to grab him, but Molon reached out with his large hand and grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her.

"What did you say, you idiot!?" shouted Sienna.

"Hamel's anger is reasonable," Molon uttered in a low voice.

He knew well that Hamel's body was on the brink, but he could not agree completely with Vermouth's words.

Hamel was a warrior. If he desired to fight, he should be allowed to fight. If Hamel were to die in battle, Molon knew that he would regret his choice not to send Hamel back with tears, but he also felt that Hamel's wishes had to be respected.

Sienna didn't know anything about that, and she didn't care either. Hamel's condition was abnormal; she wasn't thinking about the state of his body but his mind. She didn't understand why he insisted on being so stubborn when he was broken. Had they not talked while laughing? Had they not shared what they would do after saving the world and returning?

Nothing had been set in stone. After all, no one had truly believed that they could save the world back then. However, it was different now. They had already killed three Demon Kings, and there were only two remaining. What had once seemed so vague and distant was starting to become visible over the horizon.

They had to be happy. They had to spend the rest of their lives happier than anyone else in the world. As Heroes who saved the world, they deserved it more than anyone else.

"Sit down, Hamel."

Sienna wasn't happy now. In fact, she was scared and desperate. Nothing she shoved down her throat had any taste, and she didn't get drunk no matter how many glasses she had. She was more afraid of her own nightmares than the ones drawn by the Queen of the Night Demons.

Sleep didn't come to her, and she was afraid to sleep. Sienna resorted to developing a spell to cleanse and stabilize one's mind, and she even tried to shake off her fear with Anise's divine magic.

Nevertheless, it was only a vicious cycle. Even if she cleansed her mind and quenched her emotions, as soon as she looked up at the gray sky and saw the Castle of the Demon King of Incarceration, fear washed over her once more.

She didn't want to die.

The others had fled after leaving all of their responsibilities behind. Some had left behind their lingering desires as wills before passing, and they had all placed their hope in her and her companions.

Why had they sought the success of their failures from Sienna and her group?

Sienna knew she could not blame them, but she felt a sense of hatred toward them. She even felt jealous.

If it were possible, she wanted to give up and return. They had already killed three Demon Kings. They had done well. Even if they were to return here to slay the remaining two Demon Kings one day... for now, they could go back — just until Hamel's body was healed.

"You can't even fight properly," said Sienna.

She knew better than anyone else that it was just a pipe dream. She could not act upon her selfish dreams.

There were still two Demon Kings remaining, and as long as they remained alive, the world would continue its plunge into chaos. Demons and demonic beasts would kill humans, and the Demonic Disease would kill the elves.

Sienna needed to get revenge for the dead elves.

"You'll only get in the way if you come along," she continued.

Sienna didn't want to die, so she wouldn't. She wasn't happy, so she would one day find happiness. Why didn't food taste like anything? It was because they were tasteless, like dog shit. It was also because the stress was getting to her head. In the end, everything would resolve itself once they killed all the Demon Kings.

"So, Hamel, you wait here," Sienna concluded.

All five of them needed to survive. Hamel was the one closest to death right now, and his body wasn't in good condition. It was only natural for him to stay behind. Even if Hamel didn't agree to do this, Sienna knew it had to be done.

The happiness she dreamed of was for everyone to survive.

— I don't like small houses.

On sleepless nights, she used to paint a vague picture of the future.

— I would prefer a large mansion.

She believed that they would one day find it.

— A place surrounded by lots of trees. A place with fresh air, where the sky is high and blue. A place filled to the brim with stars at night. A land with a gentle stream rather than salty wind.

It had been an embarrassing thought, a scenery she could never tell others.

— I want an entire annex to use as a study. When the sun goes down, I'll light up the fireplace, lighting the study with a warm, orange light. I'll sit in a rocking chair reading a book, or maybe I'll be writing something down.

She had wondered how old she would be.

— You'll be the same as ever. After sweating buckets and buckets training with all sorts of weapons, you're going to come into the study after washing up, shaking your wet hair. I'll take issue with your attitude but end up laughing at your jokes.

While Hamel stood on watch duty, Sienna would steal glances at Hamel and then jump to her feet whenever their eyes met.

— Sometimes, we'll sink into our memories while camping outside. We'll call Anise, Molon, and Molon, talking and laughing all night.

She couldn't sleep so she planned on staying awake since it would be her shift soon anyways.

— When that time comes, Hamel, you'll be right next to me, in my closest place.

At present, Sienna held her breath as she gazed at Hamel. She couldn't imagine what kind of expression she had now.

— I can't imagine my future, my happiness, without you.

It was probably an unsightly expression.