The Heroes Who Executed Me Are Obsessed With Me

“What exactly happened?”

Clay asked, glancing toward Syltanaro, who hesitated. It was Beatrice who answered in her stead.

“I gave her a little lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“That’s right.”

She gently pushed Syltanaro into a chair and smiled softly.

“A lesson on how to properly show respect to the next Demon King.”

“Hm.”

Not long ago, Syltanaro had been attacking Beatrice as if trying to kill her. Even if the circumstances had changed, Clay found it strange that she was now so obedient.

“It’s surprising that she listened to you so quickly.”

“Why? Just because we fought like hell and then managed to talk it out?”

Beatrice chuckled again. She traced her fingers lightly across Syltanaro’s shoulder as she continued.

“Well, that’s thanks to you, Clay—thanks to the majesty you showed as a Demon King.”

The majesty of the Demon King.

After abandoning the pure body he’d possessed as a Hero, Clay had reshaped himself into a vessel solely for the sake of power. The first being to feel that overwhelming presence was none other than Syltanaro.

Since it was his first time wielding this kind of body, Clay had shown some awkwardness when using his strength on Syltanaro.

But that awkwardness had only served to make her feel the vast torrent of Clay’s magia even more directly. Syltanaro had already been completely overpowered.

“The Demon Sword may contain a great deal of magia on its own, but fundamentally, its role is to sharpen and unleash your own power.”

In other words, no matter how powerful the Demon Sword was, if the wielder wasn’t strong, it would be meaningless. Beatrice elaborated further.

“And that also means she naturally submits to overwhelming strength like yours.”

As Beatrice ran a finger along Syltanaro’s cheek, the sword trembled.

“Whatever the case, the Demon Sword is yours now. Do as you please.”

“I… I never said it like that!”

Syltanaro objected as if trying to push back against Beatrice’s domineering words.

“I just said I’d stay here. I said it was on hold!”

“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Beatrice stepped closer and looked at Syltanaro head-on.

“You lost, Syltanaro.”

“Wh-what…!”

“Are you going to throw another tantrum?”

Beatrice raised a questioning brow.

“You agreed that it was only right to show proper manners to the Demon King, didn’t you?”

“Ugh…”

“And after going so far as to use honorifics, trying to act proud now doesn’t suit you.”

Then, Beatrice turned her gaze to Clay, as if urging him to say something.

“…Right.” Clay sighed and spoke, “There’s no need to cling to your pride like earlier.”

Since she would be accompanying him during the coronation, it would practically be an announcement to all that she was his Demon Sword. There was no point in pretending otherwise in private. That was the nuance of Clay’s words, but Syltanaro swallowed hard.

“Y-Yes, understood…!”

Maybe she had finally processed what she had done before. Clay looked at her and sighed inwardly.

‘Perhaps her reason has returned.’

When she had acted like a beast, she might not have realized what she was doing. But having already lived as a Demon Sword, she surely knew how important her behavior would be moving forward.

Among the demons—and those associated with them—where strength was the ultimate measure of status, Clay’s presence was an undeniable authority.

“Syltanaro.”

Clay called her name.

“Tomorrow is my coronation.”

The moment he would take his first step as Demon King was right around the corner.

“It may be a little sudden, but I’d like you to make that moment shine.”

“M-Me…?”

“There’s only one thing you need to do.”

Her duty was already decided. Understanding this, Syltanaro sighed.

“You mean… I should turn into a weapon now?”

“Yes.”

Before the ceremony, Clay had something he needed to confirm.

“I haven’t held you as a weapon yet.”

If he couldn’t wield her properly, it would be a disgrace in front of all the demons. Clay reached out his hand.

“Do I… need to do anything?”

“No, not really.”

Syltanaro hesitated for a moment, gulped, then closed her eyes.

And just like that, her form vanished. All that remained was the blade she had been holding.

『I’m ready.』

A talking sword floating in midair… even now, the sight was just as uncanny as when he’d seen it during his days as a Hero. But Clay no longer wavered.

He reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword.

Crunch!

A resonance like bone twisting rang out.

Clay’s brow twitched ever so slightly.

“As I thought.”

His strength surged through the blade, forcibly transforming it into a sharper, more destructive form.

Power meant only to destroy.

“So this is what it feels like.”

So this was how the former Demon King had been able to wield magia sharp enough to sever divine power—he had a weapon like this by his side.

“Thank you, Syltanaro.”

Clay spoke with genuine sincerity.

“Regardless of how I came to possess you, I want to express my gratitude.”

『……』

There was no reply.

But Syltanaro was clearly flustered by Clay’s demeanor.

Such words had never been spoken to her—not even once by the former Demon King.

Clay released her.

“Rest until the coronation. You’ve done well.”

Syltanaro returned to her human form, the blade still in hand. She stood there stunned for a moment, then awkwardly lowered her head with a reluctant expression.

“Yes, then…”

With a rather conflicted look, she turned and walked out of the room.

“You’re cruel, Clay.”

Now alone with him, Beatrice spoke up.

“What do you mean?”

“Syltanaro’s never been treated as a person.”

To the former Demon King, she was nothing more than a tool for vengeance—used and discarded.

“She was probably expecting you to dominate her again. Of course she would be shaken by words like that. She’s never had that kind of experience.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Sure, sure.”

Intentional or not, Clay was not like the former Demon King.

Even after plunging into the dark, he still had an unwavering character, like a flame that refused to be extinguished.

‘Though I’m not sure if that will be to your benefit.’

Desire. Rage.

These were the foundations upon which Demon Kings were built. Even Clay carried such emotions—that was how he’d come this far.

But those emotions weren’t everything that defined him. He still carried something from his days as a Hero.

‘Don’t hesitate.’

This advice was for Clay’s sake.

‘If you stop now, you’ll be the one who suffers most.’

The path Clay had chosen only held meaning if he followed it to the end. Otherwise, all that awaited him was pain.

“Beatrice,” Clay turned to face her directly, “There won’t be any problems.”

He spoke as if he saw straight through her thoughts.

“I will only show mercy to those I choose to protect.”

Clay knew better than anyone what responsibilities came with the throne he was claiming.

“If I’m going to be the Demon King, then I’ll be a true Demon King. A being who belongs on that throne.”

That was always Clay’s way.

Even when he was a Hero.

“So don’t worry.”

“Hmmm~.” Beatrice nodded slightly, “Well, I already know what kind of resolve you carry.”

Clay had changed—or rather, he was changing.

To fully integrate himself with the Demon King’s army, he was meticulously controlling his every word and action.

‘Even the emotion you showed me…’

The moment he shed tears, asking what she could possibly know about humans—Clay was now hiding even that side of himself as he carved the Demon King’s role into his very being.

“But don’t push yourself too hard. You can rely on me. Honestly.”

“…Alright.”

Clay let a faintly relaxed expression cross his face. Beatrice smiled as she looked at him—this time, not the amused smirk she’d shown Syltanaro, but a warm, embracing smile.

♧

Everything was ready.

Syltanaro’s return as the Demon Sword had briefly stirred Barungenia, but ultimately, it had worked in Clay’s favor.

Simply holding the Demon Sword was enough to send a clear and undeniable message: Clay had succeeded the throne of the Demon King.

“Everyone has gathered.”

The next day.

Cardin bowed his head as he addressed Clay, who was seated in the study.

Clay rose to his feet and began to walk. Cardin immediately followed behind him.

‘What could he be thinking right now?’

Watching Clay’s back, Cardin wondered.

Clay, the former Hero.

Now, he wore a robe dyed in the deepest shade of black, walking through the shadowy corridors—far different from any path he had tread in the past.

‘Whatever it is, one thing’s clear—he’s unwavering.’

There wasn’t the slightest hesitation emanating from Clay.

Cardin didn’t know the full details of how Beatrice had brought Clay here, but he had a sense of what she might’ve seen in him.

Resolve.

A will to make those who had driven him to ruin pay a fitting price.

‘That’s enough.’

If they could instill fear in the humans who believed themselves the only righteous beings in the world—

If they could awaken the conscience of those who persecuted demons as heretics while acting sanctimonious themselves—

‘Then we can repay everything our people have suffered.’

Cardin had pinned that hope on Clay. And he knew the rest of the demons gathered here likely felt the same.

Whoosh.

As they passed through the gates of Barungenia, the crowd came into view.

Gargoyles. Goltche the Butcher. Lin Siart. The Slime Tailor. There weren’t many yet, but for now, they were enough.

“Thank you all for gathering.”

At least, enough to announce the birth of a new Demon King.

“I know it couldn’t have been easy to accept someone like me—a former Hero.”

Even so, they had accepted him.

Because he was the only one capable of reviving the demon race.

“Even if I didn’t want this, I stand here now.”

Clay’s eyes glowed crimson.

“From this moment on, everything changes. You, born under the law of strength—I will rise to the highest peak by the same rule.”

He asked,

“Does anyone oppose this will?”

There was no reply.

No—silence itself was the answer.

“Beatrice.”

Clay turned to the Four Generals member who had brought him here and now stood quietly beside him.

“Thanks to you, I’ve made it this far.”

Without a word, she handed him Syltanaro, now back in sword form.

Clay gripped her tightly. She didn’t say anything either. She had accepted this.

A hush fell like a curtain of shadow across the gathering.

Clay raised Syltanaro upright and spoke.

“I, Clay, hereby declare myself the Demon King.”

(End of Chapter)