The Heroes Who Executed Me Are Obsessed With Me

—“You’re weak, because your power relies solely on your followers.”

That’s what the other gods used to say. That such a foundation couldn’t be called true immortality.

‘Am I… really?’

It was true. Other gods also grew stronger the more followers they had—but none of them drew all of their strength from their believers the way she did.

In that sense, even she had questioned if she could truly be called immortal.

And just now… she had felt that fear firsthand.

‘Did I… die?’

It felt like her consciousness had sunk beneath the surface.

She floundered in a dark abyss where nothing could be seen.

‘Is this how it ends…?’

To taste defeat again, like this—it was unbelievable.

But what truly stunned her was not the defeat itself, but the cleverness and cruelty of the Demon King.

How had he known? How had he been certain that all of her power came solely from her followers? The knight from Holy Krata had insisted that no one else knew.

And yet he had known. He had predicted her arrival and prepared everything in advance.

It was as if he had access to the very same intelligence Krata possessed.

—“The only reason you’re even called immortal… is because your soul can still be preserved.”

What good was that now?

Athanasia exhaled, resigned to the fact that all that remained of her was a disembodied soul.

‘I wanted revenge…’

On the one who crushed all the ancient gods. On those ancient gods who had looked down on her, too.

She had thought she could do it, having been the first to awaken. But she’d acted far too carelessly.

‘I ended up wasting the lives of my followers.’

Though they hadn’t had unwavering faith, they were still her believers. And it was her weakness that had failed to protect them.

She quietly closed her eyes.

All she could do now was slowly reconstruct a new body over time—through whatever believers might still remain, hidden somewhere.

Who knew how long that would take…

“…Athanasia.”

A voice called out to her from somewhere.

‘A guide of souls?’

One of those gods that watched the boundary of the underworld? Just an annoying presence for someone like her, who would rebuild a body and return in time anyway.

“Wake up.”

But that voice carried life—a quality no death-bound god would ever possess.

Stir.

Only then did she realize: she could move her body.

The darkness in her vision had begun to give way to light.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

At first, her vision was blurry. All she could tell was that she was lying in a dimly lit room.

“…Nngh.”

Someone sat before her. Wincing at the searing pain that coursed through her body, Athanasia slowly made out the figure.

“You…!”

As her vision sharpened, she saw clearly: it was none other than the Demon King.

She immediately tried to rise—only to scream in pain.

“Kh…?!”

Her body hadn’t fully recovered. The realization that her believers had withdrawn their faith made her snap at him in a shrill voice.

“Y-You bastard… Is this some kind of sick joke, leaving me like this—?!”

“Clay,” he interrupted.

“…What?”

“My name,” he said.

Athanasia stared, dumbfounded.

“…What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“You wouldn’t call me anything honorific anyway. I figured I’d at least tell you my name,” Clay showed no reaction to her confusion, “How’s your body?”

“…My body?”

“The blow missed your vitals.”

She looked down. Bandages had been wrapped carefully around her wounds.

“…Ha.” Athanasia let out a bitter sigh, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to end it like that.”

“What? Was this supposed to be some kind of pity?”

“Athanasia.” Clay’s expression remained neutral, “Are you really okay being used by humans without even knowing who I am?”

“You’re the Demon King! The leader of all those murderous monsters!”

“Yes. And before that… I was a Hero.”

Thud.

She flinched.

“You must know what a Hero is. Even in your era, there were legendary humans who rose to fight evil.”

“…What are you saying?”

“I was a Hero,” Clay began recounting his story, “I was executed under suspicion of colluding with the previous Demon King.”

His faith, everything he had fought for as a human—had all been crushed by betrayal.

“Now do you understand why I turned my back on humanity?”

Athanasia sat frozen, eyes wide.

A Hero?

Only the most noble humans could become one.

The source of their power varied by generation, but that fact never changed. To contain divine strength, one needed to possess something nearly divine in their heart.

And for humans—beings far weaker in body than gods or other races—that qualification came down to one thing—an unshakable resolve.

“…Can you prove it?” She had to ask—she couldn’t believe it in words alone, “What you said, can you prove it?”

“You’re welcome to check for yourself,” Clay responded as if it were no big deal, “Or, maybe this will suffice.”

He removed his top, revealing the countless seals carved into his upper body.

“Before my execution, my body was rendered incapable of using divine power properly. But now, I can wield it in another way.”

By converting divine power into magia.

“You should be able to see that with your own eyes.”

Clay drew out his strength. The divine power within him instantly twisted and converted into magia, cycling through his body.

“!”

She saw it.

Athanasia watched the grotesque transformation of that energy flow and gasped.

“That’s impossible… That twisted body of yours…”

“I can’t fully explain it either, but I believe the proof speaks for itself.”

The fact that his body once qualified as a vessel for divinity.

“…Even if that’s true, you still killed my followers.”

Athanasia glared at him fiercely.

“Even if you didn’t destroy my physical form, you still killed my believers.”

“If I hadn’t, you would’ve killed us,” Clay replied with calm finality, “Am I wrong?”

It was a war.

A battle where one side would kill the other.

Clay explained to her that it had been a tactical decision, not an emotional one.

“And the ones who remain?” Athanasia asked, voice faint, “What are you going to do with the ones who are left?”

“Don’t worry,” Clay said something she hadn’t expected at all, “They’re my followers now.”

♧

Athanasia’s followers were unique.

They were just humans like any others, but they were optimized for devotion.

Trained through generations to serve and worship a god, they had cultivated the habit of offering reverence as a routine. So when they accepted someone new as their deity, they could immediately offer 'faith.'

Unlike ordinary people, who wouldn’t so easily convert fear into faith, Athanasia’s followers operated on a different principle.

“You mean you twisted their fear of you into faith?” Shock spread across Athanasia’s face, “You’re saying that kind of thing is even possible?”

“As I said, this only works with your followers. Faith in other gods is closer to brainwashing, but their faith in you was merely methodological.”

In other words, they hadn’t believed in her as much as they had clung to the form and act of faith itself. And the reason for that—

“You know why that happened.”

Because she had told them not to regard her as a god.

“You told them you weren’t a perfect god, not like the others.”

“How do you even know that…?”

“Because you accepted that truth yourself. And that acceptance created this fatal vulnerability, especially for someone like you who relies so heavily on faith from followers.”

Clay extended a hand toward her.

“W-what is this?”

“Athanasia. In the end, you’re not so different from me. You wield power through the faith of others.”

Just like a Hero is merely a vessel by nature.

“I want to form an alliance with you.”

“…What?” Athanasia’s face twisted, “You kill my followers, take them from me, and now you want an alliance?”

“This isn’t a proposal.”

Clay’s eyes met hers without wavering.

“Don’t make me test the immortality of your soul.”

Gulp.

Without realizing it, Athanasia swallowed dryly.

♧

“So… you’re saying everything went according to plan?”

From a distance, Cardin spoke to Beatrice as the two of them watched Clay and Athanasia standing side by side on a raised platform.

“Yes.”

Though her body was not yet fully healed, Beatrice responded while observing the scene with interest.

“Athanasia just gave in completely.”

Even while staring at her captured followers, Athanasia continued speaking. From what little they could hear, she seemed to be admitting defeat to the Demon King and expressing a desire to be integrated into his faction.

“Those believers may have lost their faith in Athanasia, but that doesn’t mean they’ve fully accepted Clay as their new god.”

But Clay had glossed over that fact.

In a situation where the outcome had already been decided—and with Athanasia having just been unsealed and lacking information. Clay's overwhelming advantage allowed his methods to prevail.

“Soon, even those believers will start to build real faith in Clay. He’ll twist their fear into something else.”

That would take time. While Athanasia might have been genuinely swayed by the sheer pressure Clay exuded, the rest would require longer.

“Truly impressive.” Cardin exhaled deeply.

“I knew you had a plan, but I didn’t expect you’d thought everything through to that extent.”

“Well, I only learned about it afterward too.”

Beatrice smiled faintly.

“He probably didn’t tell us everything so the plan could unfold without risk. Just thinking about how monstrous of a Demon King he’ll become makes me giddy.”

Watching her gaze at Clay with awe, Cardin swallowed dryly.

‘I really can’t imagine how far that man is going to go.’

Unlike the previous Demon King, Clay operated with meticulous planning.

Though deeply emotional, his methods were ironically cold and calculated—taming everyone with eerie precision.

‘I just hope he truly revives our demonkind.’

Cardin prayed earnestly in his heart that Clay would fulfill the collective wish of their kind.

And as all of Barungenia underwent a great transformation, in a corner of the region where scattered demons were beginning to regroup, a particular rumor began to spread.

“I heard a new Demon King has appeared in Barungenia.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

The demons, steeped in defeat, scowled at those spreading such tales.

“If there really was a new Demon King, do you think things would be this quiet?”

“Yeah, the Demon King wouldn’t just sit still like this!”

That was true. A Demon King, by nature, would blaze a trail of conquest from the moment of emergence. He wouldn’t move so discreetly that he became a mere rumor.

“Hey.”

Amid their bickering, a massive demon stepped into view.

“So you’re saying a new Demon King has appeared in Barungenia?”

One of the Demon King’s Four Generals-in-waiting—Geshkafor—had arrived.

(End of Chapter)