"The Hero is dead, huh..."
I ruminated on the Demigod's words. They struck a chord deep within me. To be honest, they were words I would have preferred not to hear. They carried a dull throb, a sensation akin to pain.
"Have you forgotten even the one you buried with your own hands?" the Demigod pressed. "I heard that the Holy Sword Hero was slain by the Demon King. And that the Kingdom fell because of it."
"I could never forget," I murmured. "The Hero... I was the one who killed her."
In essence, I had driven two Heroes to their deaths. Both had met their ends as the result of their own choices, yet they were outcomes I could have prevented had I acted differently. Throughout every era, I have been the one to desecrate True Justice.
And yet, that is my destiny as the Demon King.
I had to move forward, even if it meant using justice itself as fuel. I could not stop. I had sacrificed far too many lives to start hesitating now. One might call it a defiant front, and perhaps they would be right. But I had become the Demon King with the resolve to shoulder every bit of blame, resentment, and hatred the world could muster. There was no lie in that.
I leveled my Keepsake Sword and made my declaration.
"I will continue to reign as the Peak of Evil. I have no intention of ever relinquishing this position. Demigod, you will die here as well."
"You certainly have confidence, talking so big in a situation like this."
"If I lacked such resolve, I wouldn't be fit to be the Demon King."
I began to walk toward him, sword in hand. Now that I had been dragged into this Subspace, wasting magic was strictly forbidden. Spells had little effect on him to begin with, so my fundamental strategy remained unchanged. I simply had to close the distance and cut him down.
The Demigod sighed as I approached. A cynical, bitter expression crossed his face.
"...I have half a mind to lodge a complaint with the Holy Staff Kingdom. They completely misjudged the Current Demon King's capabilities."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
His cheek twitched in what appeared to be a wry, pained smile.
"The information they gave me. They said the Current Demon King was an irregular Undead, and that even a Saint's Divine Magic wouldn't work on him. They were right about that, but I was told you were inept in Melee Combat."
"I see."
"They said the Demon King was a typical Mage who never stepped onto the front lines, leaving everything to his subordinates. They claimed that as long as I could close the distance, I would have the advantage. I even studied Martial Arts just for that purpose... what a pathetic display I've made of myself."
Hearing his story left me with an indescribable feeling. This was the first I’d heard of it. Apparently, the nations of the world had a profound misunderstanding of my abilities.
It was true that I rarely drew my sword. I seldom appeared on the battlefield, spending most of my days buried in administrative duties at the Royal Castle. Even when I did intervene, I usually limited myself to commanding the Undead. Being a Lich only reinforced the image of a Caster. Consequently, my skill in Swordplay remained a secret. The Demigod had devised his entire strategy based on skewed intelligence. It was almost pitiable. I could understand why he wanted to grumble.
The Demigod let out a long breath, but his gaze sharpened instantly. His heavy fatigue seemed to recede into the background.
"But I will never give up. I have cast everything else away; the only mission left for this body is world peace. I will see it through to perfection."
"And what will you do after you've killed me and dismantled the Demon King’s Army? How do you intend to maintain that peace?"
"I will die with grace. Maintaining peace is the duty of those who are left behind. A being like a Demigod has no business living in a peaceful world. I would only become a cause for conflict and a burden for the next generation. I refuse to be used as a weapon ever again."
He spoke in a dark, hollow tone. In those words, I caught a glimpse of his true feelings as a human being. He continued, his voice sounding like a lonely monologue.
"The Demigod's purpose is to dismantle the Demon King’s Army. Nothing more. I will not intervene beyond that. To ensure that no new Demigods ever appear, I have destroyed every trace of the Ritual Magic. That inhumane Forbidden Art can never be replicated."
So, that was why the Underground Magic Workshop had been so thoroughly purged. I had assumed he was just eliminating any potential weaknesses, but in truth, he was trying to prevent more victims from being subjected to the ritual.
It was a surprisingly noble motive. A technique that could intentionally manufacture heroes—even if they didn't reach his level—was far too dangerous. It would bring great chaos to the world and likely lead to new forms of discrimination. At the very least, it was a path that led everywhere except toward peace.
In that regard, I could empathize with the Demigod's actions.
I stopped when I reached the edge of my striking range and addressed the Demigod as he braced himself.
"I understand your perspective and your claims well. Knowing that, there is one thing I must say."
"What is it?" he asked, his guard high.
I raised my Keepsake Sword, my voice turning cold as ice.
"—I cannot entrust world peace to you. That remains my mission, now and forever."