Kind Demon King

“I... Don’t know.” Her voice was laced with defeat, and her shoulders slumped as she faced me, a contrast to yesterday’s guarded demeanor which I took as an improvement.

“I’m not as knowledgeable as you are. I can’t lead people to unite forces. I wish Father were still—”

I caught the shift in her expression as she mentioned her father, the way her posture tightened, sealing off the vulnerability she’d just shown. Guess I talked too early about her being open.

“Forget it.”

She waved her hand.

“If you want to talk, I’m told I’m a good listener.”

I didn’t expect her to go further as she didn’t know me well and she didn’t seem to be the type to be very open about her feelings yet it was worth giving it a shot.

“For real, what will you do now?”

I felt like she wanted to change the topic. Maybe she wasn’t comfortable talking about her father? Daddy issues? Or maybe race problems?

“Find the nearest town and then… Maybe I could find another beauty like you to help.”

“For real, what will you do now?”

I felt like she wanted to change the topic. Maybe she wasn’t comfortable talking about her father? Daddy issues? Or maybe race problems?

“Find the nearest town and then… Maybe I could find another beauty like you to help.”

I winked, and she raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across her face.

“Hey, my face was clean this time.”

She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. I could see the hesitation in her eyes as if weighing whether to share something deeper.

“Spit it out.”

“Can I ask something from you?”

She asked hesitantly. I closed my legs and covered my face shyly.

"We just met a day ago. Wanting my body is shameless, Morrigan."

I saw her pull her dagger. I lifted my hands in a defensive manner, laughter bubbling in my throat.

“Just joking. Go ahead.”

Not like I had things to do in this life.

“I need a letter delivered to someone. His name is Börü Whitefang. He is like me, trying to rescue beastkin.”

Well, that seemed simple enough.

“I am bad at finding directions but yeah, I can do that. I thought you were going to ask something difficult with how much you hesitated.”

“You have to travel for at least 3 months.”

Well, during the time I was the only human alive, I was always on the move for at least 10 years so 3 months didn’t seem that bad.

“I like walking.”

She sighed. She wanted to keep a straight face but I could see a smile blooming on her face.

“Seriously, I cannot deal with you.”

“That’s the effect I have on most women.”

I said as I did finger guns.

“So, where this guy is?”

“He lives at Whifur, a city founded by beastkin. You may face… difficulties, but if you show them my mark, you will be accepted.”

She pulled a letter from her inside pocket. The letter was sealed with purple ink and had a symbol with claw marks and two daggers crossing each other. There were some other symbols similar to the ones on her daggers.

“My name is Morrigan, Morrigan Blackclaw. Thank you for helping me save that beastkin and… seeing me as your equal.”

“Pleasure was mine. My name is Poyraz Karabulut, by the way.”

Blackclaw. That was the name of the group cultists talked about. Hmmm. I noted it.

“Whifur is located in the South. I would like to give you a map, but I myself don’t have one.”

Did the way she spoke to me become softer after she wanted me to deliver her letter, or was it just me? Guess if she was as harsh as before it would be ungrateful.

“Okay. I guess this is where we part ways?”

I asked.

“Yes.”

She answered coldly yet her eyes told me a different story.

“Be safe then.”

“I should be the one to say that since your face looks like it has been hit by a rock.”

“Ouch. My feelings.”

I faked being hurt as I held my chest. She threw me a bag. It held water.

“Thanks.”

She turned into a blur and soon disappeared without saying a word.

“Huh. Neat trick. Maybe I should have asked her to teach me that.”

As I was sure she was no longer around, my smile died out. My face turned to its usual emotionless state. I started to walk toward the South, or what I thought was the South. I knew how the directions worked but wasn’t sure if they worked the same here, in another world. A voice in my head asked me why I accepted her request, especially without any reward.

“Well, what other thing do I have to do?”

I wondered about life and goals. Before Horde, life was simpler. Study, get a job, marry, have children, and die. I, just like many others, had my own path carved for me. At that time, I didn’t think of anything else but to make my parents proud. They wanted me to have a nice-paying job, so I just followed their “orders.” I was the eldest, and I guess that's how most eldest children are raised. When Horde attacked, I, just like many, lost all of my family. I was raised my entire life to make them happy. Fulfill the goals they couldn’t fulfill. When they died, I had to make my own decisions. I remember being angry. My purpose was to make them happy, and it was taken away from me.

“No. That’s not correct. I was just sad because I loved them. Not because…”

I sighed. 50 years. 50 years of war or perhaps even more. Around 10 of those years, I was the only human left. I wondered what kept me alive. Why I was so willing to hold on? Maybe it was spite. Haha, look at you dumb bugs! Can’t even take out one little human!

“Guess I am a little bit insane. Well, a little bit is a fucking understatement.”

I knew the answer. That was because if I died as the last human, everything humanity did from the beginning was gone. No heroes, no scientists, no mothers, no fathers, nothing. How many sacrifices were made to build what we had before they came?

“I can’t even put it into words.”

Medics shielding the wounded with their own bodies. Soldiers holding the line knowing they will die so civilians could escape. Scientists trying to find something useful without sleeping for days. Singers and poets tried to make people feel better even though they were in the same condition.

“Human history was filled with those.”

And it ended with me. How shameful.

“Maybe that’s why I accepted it.”

Just to distract myself. From my own failure. With my family gone, I adopted a new goal.

“Protect the innocent.”

And I managed to fail at that too. I slapped myself to get away from the negative thought train I was having. No sense being upset about spilled milk.

“Argh!”

I forgot my face was all swollen up! It hurt so bad!

“Well, at least I just think about the pain!”