Chapter 1 – The Weakest Hero was saved.

"So... is this how it will end? Ha, ha..."

Covered in wounds, his voice was barely audible to himself. His vision was already limited, as part of his face was severely swollen, his eyes almost completely shut.

His weak laughter was perhaps due to the powerful magic attack he saw heading towards him.

"I knew this would happen..." his voice broke with sobs. "I knew I should never have trusted them... Being used as bait was the only thing I was... good for?"

He remembered the phrases they had told him when they sent him on this "mission," if it could even be called that.

"You can do it, Hero," a soldier told him encouragingly.

"She'll be waiting for you when you return," one of the other heroes told him.

Words of encouragement multiplied among those present, and in the end, they turned out to be false lies.

He had been sent to face the enemy, deceived by the girl he believed he loved. Furthermore, it was his desire to be useful in this fight that led him to accept.

And in the end, he had only been used for his title as a hero, one that attracted a good number of his current enemies: the demons.

Unfortunately, his role as bait had been effective. A good number of demons, including several important generals, arrived to confront the Hero.

Even with the fear, he had accepted. Even with his doubts, he ended up here. The weakest hero lived up to his title, as he was easily beaten down by the demons.

He ironically thought that at least he had accomplished something: his small distraction had held the enemy back long enough for them to be eradicated.

The only thing he regretted was the number of soldiers who had followed him in that suicide mission, people who did it out of loyalty to him. Even though he was considered the weakest, there were those who followed him.

"If only I could have been as strong as them. If I had been, even she might have seen me differently," he said, showing a defeated smile. "Ha, ha. Why do I even keep thinking that was possible?"

Even in his current state, he smiled at his impending death. Any warrior would say he would die with honor.

That foolish boy was already ready for his end; but, in someone's eyes, it wasn't his time yet.

"Do you want to be strong?"

A strange voice sounded in his head. He just smiled, thinking his mind was playing one last trick on him.

And, with nothing to lose, he decided to answer it.

"Of course."

It was a short answer, said with complete sincerity.

He saw the magic attack getting closer and closer. The demons around him had lost interest in him and began to run desperately in all directions. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to escape, as the impact radius would be devastating.

"Then, let's go somewhere quieter," said a silhouette that had appeared in front of him.

He could barely make it out. He no longer had anything to regret, as he had accepted that everything would end for him.

And, just seconds before impact, the two disappeared, leaving only the demons to receive the attack.

Everything that happened afterward would be described as an incredible spectacle of lights and explosions...

***

"I can't believe it worked! Ha, ha, ha. That idiot, in the end he was good for something."

In the distance, in a safe area from the impact, the silhouette of a boy could be distinguished, mocking what was happening before his eyes. Another female silhouette arrived and hugged him from behind, while observing the spectacle.

"Was it necessary to kill that entire platoon?" she asked, whispering in his ear.

"Most of them were his sympathizers. Although I made sure not enough died to avoid suspicion, he earned this for trying to steal our attention."

Upon finishing speaking, he continued to mock.

That would be unforgivable to others, but the female silhouette did nothing. Even with the attack in all its splendor and knowing what they had done, they moved away from the area without showing any signs of remorse.

***

"Noooo!"

A scream was heard in a room. It was that boy who had almost died in that place.

"I see you've finally woken up. After the third day unconscious, I thought there was no hope left," said an older man while smoking a pipe.

He was tall and had a very long beard. He wore a robe with some adornments. One could say he was human until you looked at his eyes, which were a shade of green and, by the shape of his pupils, revealed that he was a demon.

Upon noticing this, the boy tried to flee quickly. Unfortunately for him, upon trying to do so, pain invaded his entire body, preventing him from moving. He noticed that he was completely bandaged and that his wounds seemed to be more serious than he remembered.

"I know what you must be thinking. But don't worry, I won't do anything to you," said the old man in a calm voice.

He walked over and sat down in a chair next to the bed where the boy was.

He was still nervous. Although he had always been labeled as a useless person who was good for nothing, he had learned to sense the strength of others, something basic for the warriors of this world.

And the fact that he could sense the power of others was the reason for his nervousness. The old man's strength was not immense, but overwhelming.

He, along with the others who had been summoned as heroes to this world just over a year ago, had seen the power of the demon king. And, thanks to that, he could affirm one thing: the old man sitting beside him was on his level.

"Why did you save me? We're enemies," he mentioned, with a confused expression.

The old man stared at him, took a puff from his pipe, and enveloped him in the smoke he exhaled. The boy coughed because of the smoke that entered his lungs. Afterward, between laughs, the old man spoke:

"Enemies? Ha, ha, ha, ha. I don't remember you doing anything to make me consider you as such."

That scene seemed strange to him. Since he had arrived in this world, he had been taught that demons were the enemies of all the coexisting races. And now, there was one who not only saved him from his imminent death, but also seemed to have taken care of him all this time.

"Boy, I won't deny that in recent decades demons have done nothing but cause chaos. But... I'll ask you something: do you think we all want this?"

The old man's expression turned sad as he said it. That question made the boy reflect. He came from our world, and upon thinking about the wars that have occurred and still exist, his answer came quickly:

"Well, I don't think so... then..."

The boy stopped, as the old man interrupted him:

"My name is Exael Vladmoore III. I am the former Demon King."

His face filled with astonishment. Before him stood a Demon King. Now he perfectly understood the reason for the tremendous power he had felt.

But something didn't add up in the boy's eyes. Upon noticing that, the old man simply stroked his beard while showing astonishment.

"I see you have an idea as to why this strange situation has occurred," he said, taking another puff from his pipe.

"According to what I read in an ancient book in the royal library, a demon king is only replaced by another upon death. The fact that you are alive and there is already another means you were overthro..."

The boy began to cough violently, seeing how the hand he covered his mouth with filled with blood.

The old man gestured for him not to exert himself, as his wounds were not yet fully healed. The boy was about to lie down; however, the old man stopped him to give him a red-colored concoction that he had to drink. Its taste was indescribable; the only thing he could say for sure was that it tasted awful.

Once he was lying down, the old man spoke again:

"It's as you say: I was overthrown. What happened was something that had never been seen before," he said calmly.

He didn't seem to show fury, or any other negative emotion, and continued to smoke his pipe.

"But well, boy, I've introduced myself; now it's your turn. Tell me, what is your name?" he asked, while stroking his beard.

"My name?..." The boy hesitated for a moment. "My name is Hiro."

The old man began to laugh and commented that his name was funny. The boy joined in the laughter, as he thought the same thing. But suddenly, the old man changed the tone of his voice and became more serious.

"Listen carefully, Hiro: you are going to die..."

The boy's face turned pale, and worry washed over him. The idea that all this care and salvation had perhaps only served to extend his life a little longer ran through his mind. Everything indicated that, in the end, he would die for being weak.

The old man simply sighed and told him that he hadn't finished speaking yet.

"As I said, you are going to die... in your current condition. What I plan to do can save your life," he said in a serious tone.

He stood up and approached the boy.

"How can you save me?" he asked, already without hope.

"By giving you my heart."

Upon hearing that answer, the boy showed deep surprise on his face; the shock it generated was immense.

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