chapter 1 - i can't lose to him

‘Ah, damn it.’

In a children’s storybook that Zion read when he was little, there was a passage that described a great hero's fall. According to the passage, even the heavens filled with grief at the sight of the dying hero, and rain began to pour down from the sky. He didn’t know exactly why, but even after many years passed, this passage remained stuck inside his mind.

‘As expected, the heavens don’t seem to love me.’

Looking at the bright sun without a cloud in sight, Zion was sure that the heavens must have despised him instead, let alone love a person like him.

‘Well, it’s pretty understandable why.’

Zion couldn’t even count the number of people who cried because of him or remember how many people he had killed. People called him the Demon Lord, who had brought chaos and despair into this world. He didn’t particularly like to dine on blood or flesh, but he also didn’t refuse it when they were offered; and he had lived a kind of life where he used whatever means to achieve a goal.

If the heavens really loved him, they would’ve slapped Zion across the face and told him to change his ways.

“Is it over?”

Zion heard a voice. It was such a heroic and noble voice that it was irritating. He lowered his gaze from the sky and looked forward. A man wearing shiny armor looked down at Zion with a haughty look on his face. He was the man called ‘Hero Among Heroes’.

With a cringy, almost disgusting, title called ‘The Sun Warrior’, he was the human named Alen Zenard.

‘So handsome.’

Zion wished he could spit on a face like that at least once.

‘Should I give it a try?’

Zion considered the angle, his left-over stamina, the guy’s evasion speed, and so on—even in his dazed state, he was able to calculate these kinds of things fast.

‘No, I shouldn’t.’

This was his end. Zion didn’t want to lose his cool at the last moment to something like this. He still had some pride, since the people in this world called him the Demon Lord.

‘Ah, but wait. When did I have pride in something like that?’

Zion was moving his mouth to fire a spit right at the tip of Glen’s perfectly-shaped, sculpted nose when Alen suddenly exclaimed—

“Your evil deeds will come to an end now, Demon Lord Zion methew!”

‘What a cheesy line to say.’

It was uncreative. Really uncreative. As if he was really a hero from a storybook, Alen reiterated lines that only characters from a moldy, third-rate hero novel would say.

‘Shouldn’t he have stopped reading children’s storybooks by now?’

However, Zion didn’t even have the strength to respond to him. He could only blink at the glorious hero before him and stare.

“Quickly finish him! Our opponent is the ‘Demon Lord of Strength’. We don’t know when he will regain his powers!”

“Yes! That’s right!”

‘No, I don’t have any powers left. My body hurts, and I don’t want to move.’

Zion wanted to explain this to the hero’s companions, who were telling the hero to finish him off. But it was tiring to even open his mouth. Furthermore, he wondered if there was any purpose in explaining this to them.

‘They can be on their guard if they wish.’

He thought it was a bit funny to see them fuss over his dying body.

Yet, it also made him feel a bit pleased. Didn’t their words mean that he posed a huge threat?

“No, he no longer has the power to harm us.”

Zion’s enjoyment suddenly evaporated with Alen’s words.

‘This guy is really not fun.’

💜💜💜

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