The Heroes Who Executed Me Are Obsessed With Me

The one sent ahead as a scout… was a goblin.

Among the demons of Barungenia, he belonged to the weaker class. But there was a reason he had been chosen for this role.

“Grrk.”

Goblins were quick and skilled in stealth. Their green coloring allowed them to blend into forest terrain, and they had long since honed the art of hiding—an essential survival skill when surrounded by larger, stronger beings.

Of course, such skills didn’t earn much attention. Among demons, power alone determined worth. But with the rise of a new Demon King, things had begun to change.

Even before the coronation, the Demon King had gathered the goblins and trained them in the basics of reconnaissance. This goblin was the most exceptional among them.

He was cunning. And cunning was a sign of intelligence. For the first time, the skills he had once used just to survive were now being utilized as a scout.

“Grurrrk.”

And that fact alone moved him deeply. Until now, demons had seen goblins as nothing more than disposable meat shields on the battlefield.

So he did his best. He found a shallow spot in the river and crossed. He pressed forward through undergrowth and brush. And soon, he reached the edge of a rocky hill.

Rrrrumble...

There, the goblin detected a strange tremor in the earth. He quickly ducked behind a rock and peered down below—and spotted a young girl.

Rrrumble...

The tremors radiated outward from her. Cautiously, the goblin inched closer.

Being a demon who didn’t use magia at all, the goblin wasn’t likely to trigger any detection abilities.

So he was confident. He believed he could carry out the mission entrusted to him by the Demon King.

Whoosh.

But he was wrong.

The girl’s gaze turned toward the rock he hid behind.

He’d been spotted.

Panicking, the goblin spun around to flee.

“Ggk—!”

But they were already there—surrounding him. Twisted soldiers, half-destroyed humans with broken limbs and vacant stares.

“A scout?”

As he hesitated, her voice rang out. The goblin, horrified, turned his head.

She stood right behind him.

A young girl wearing a crown of thorns, exuding purity—but also a horrifying killing intent.

“You sent a weak one, didn’t you?”

The goblin raised his club—his only weapon.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head.

“You see…”

She tapped her finger on his forehead.

“You’re just bait.”

Ssss...

A diagonal mark appeared on his forehead. No—more accurately, it revealed itself. The mark had already been engraved there.

“Grrrk?!”

“Now you understand?”

She pressed her fingertip into the mark more firmly.

“They took advantage of your simple mind.”

Crack!

Her finger pierced straight through his skull. The goblin’s eyes rolled white, and he dropped to his knees without so much as a cry.

His club clattered to the ground.

“No pity, no mercy~.”

The girl—Athanasia—smiled sweetly, as if putting on a show for someone who might be watching from afar.

♧

“She’s been spotted. Northwest.”

Goltche the Butcher peered through a specialized telescope. Thanks to the tracking mark Lin had inscribed on the goblin, Goltche was able to pinpoint Athanasia’s location with precision.

“She’s taken the form of a girl. A godlike being, clearly heading our way.”

“And?”

Beatrice tilted her head, unsurprised by the obvious.

“There’s a village along the path. Think she’ll pause, since she looks human?”

But what followed next broke her expectations.

—Aaargh!

—W-Who are you?! Gkk—

—Please, spare me!

Massacre.

The soldiers that followed Athanasia—more corpses than living beings—slaughtered every human they came across. Like cleaning up trash.

“I see.”

Beatrice’s expression darkened.

“She’s killing everyone who isn’t one of her followers.”

“Ah…”

Goltche let out a low chuckle.

“She thinks this is more urgent than rebuilding her faith.”

“Looks like it.” Beatrice shrugged, “Now that she’s free, she must be holding onto a lot. Whatever they told her to lure her here… I can’t imagine.”

“Whatever the reason, she’s certainly a cruel one.”

“And you or I aren’t?”

Beatrice’s gaze swept across the field.

There were goblins everywhere—hundreds of them. None of them knew they’d been sent here as bait, disposable in the new Demon King’s strategy.

‘Clay… your aptitude…’

He wasn’t fit to be a Hero.

‘He becomes whatever is most suited to the position.’

That was what made Clay truly terrifying. As soon as he became Demon King, he categorized the demon race—by usefulness.

He assigned each demon to its proper role without hesitation.

These goblins had been selected and deployed solely as bait.

‘Now that Athanasia’s been found, there’s no need to send more…’

Beatrice let out a sigh.

‘But now it’s obvious what his intentions were from the start.’

Athanasia made no attempt to hide her presence. She was clearly advancing straight toward Barungenia.

‘So that’s why he sent me?’

If all Clay had wanted was simple reconnaissance, he wouldn’t have sent her along with a bait goblin. But he had.

‘He must have meant for me to judge things with my own eyes.’

From Beatrice’s perspective, there was no point in further stealth. If the enemy was moving directly, long-range observation was enough.

“Goltche, stay here and keep watching Athanasia. Send goblins to report the situation back.”

“You’re heading out?”

“No.”

Fwoosh!

Beatrice’s body was engulfed in flame.

“I’m going to learn her intent myself.”

♧

“She really is Athanasia, and you still intend to fight her?”

The Demon Sword Syltanaro asked in alarm.

“I do.”

Clay answered as he prepared to depart.

“But she’s a god, Your Majesty.”

“I know.”

“Demon King…!”

Gone was her earlier boldness. Now Syltanaro simply pleaded.

“Even freshly released from her seal, she’ll be terrifyingly strong.”

“She has fewer worshippers than before.”

“But they’re not gone. Some tribal remnants still believe in the ancient gods.”

“Syltanaro.”

Clay addressed her—currently in her girl-like manifested form.

“Return to your sword form.”

“…What?”

“I need a weapon right now.”

The command was clear, but Syltanaro hesitated.

“If we fight a god, I might… break—”

“The battle hasn’t even started yet.”

Clay cut her off before she could spiral further.

“Didn’t you agree to fulfill your role?”

Syltanaro swallowed hard—and then, Clay struck the final blow.

“At least my Holy Sword never tried to wield its master.”

“!”

Her eyes widened in shock. Then, she lowered her head, fists clenched tightly.

“That… that’s something I can’t lose to.”

“Good.”

“Demon King.”

She made one request.

“If you’re in danger, please run.”

“If I’m in danger?”

“Yes.”

Having once lost her former master, Syltanaro feared above all that she might lose her new one too.

“I only have you.”

There was no one else she could follow.

“I swore to serve you, so promise me—you’ll survive.”

It was bold. But Clay didn’t scold her. He nodded.

“I will.”

It wasn’t compassion or mercy. It was simple conviction—he had no intention of dying.

“Cardin.”

Clay turned. From the shadows, Cardin emerged.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Have you completed everything I asked of you?”

“Yes. We’ve successfully detained most of them and are bringing them here now.”

Cardin hesitated, then added,

“But… should we have told Lady Beatrice?”

“If we had, she might’ve objected.”

“Objected?”

“She’d worry provoking Athanasia might make battle unavoidable.”

It was too late now. Cardin had done as instructed, and the plan had moved past the point of reversal.

“If you’ve done your job well, there’ll be no issue. Athanasia was the first to be unsealed, after all.”

Everything had been arranged for this moment.

“All that remains is for Beatrice—unknowing of any of this—to buy us time.”

So the enemy wouldn’t sense what was coming.

‘Forgive me, Beatrice.’

Clay felt a rare pang of guilt—for her alone. But he believed she would understand.

‘You’re the most important piece here.’

And Clay believed—she would carry it out.

♧

“Clay, retreat!”

It should’ve been the scouts returning first. But instead, it was Beatrice who ran up and shouted.

“Athanasia… she’s struck a deal with one of Emperor Lutan’s confidants. She said it outright—she plans to kill you.”

Beatrice was gasping for breath.

“…You’re hurt.”

Clay stepped forward from the front gates of Barungenia and approached her.

He saw her staggering. Her clothing was in tatters, burned and torn. Wounds not yet healed still glistened across her skin—fresh, barely regenerating.

“Your injuries aren’t minor.”

“It’s nothing serious.” Beatrice insisted, though her condition said otherwise.

“Clay…” She looked at him in dismay, “She’s… on a different level.”

She sounded as if she’d just survived a natural disaster. Her voice trembled.

“Demons grow stronger when within the Demon King’s domain. Because you’re our god now. But… you’ve only just taken the throne. No one knows how much stronger you can make us yet.”

“You mean I shouldn’t test that now.”

“There’s no need to gamble yet.”

Beatrice meant her words sincerely. She was advising him—for his sake.

“You still have so much to do. Please, think more carefully—”

“Your Majesty.”

It was Cardin.

He approached and whispered to Clay,

“It’s done. Everything is ready.”

“Ready?”

Beatrice looked confused.

“Clay?”

“Beatrice,” Clay said quietly, “Do you know why I brought Neville here?”

“To gather intelligence on Krata, wasn’t it?”

“More precisely—to gather information on those who will become my enemies.”

And among those enemies… were the ancient gods. He now knew the source of their power—and where it was hidden.

“I’ve been moving cautiously this whole time.”

Since the moment he was betrayed. No—he had already been preparing long before that. Learning, watching, as a Hero.

Now, the only thing that had changed was the direction of his sword.

“But Barungenia will not fall. Not from the start.”

Clay passed by Beatrice, who could only stare, speechless.

The edges of his black cloak swept through the air—leaving a trailing silhouette burned into her vision.

(End of Chapter)