The Heroes Who Executed Me Are Obsessed With Me

“Pfft!”

The horned demon burst into laughter.

“Ahahahaha!”

He had been intimidated—when the human appeared, he had felt immense pressure.

But that moment passed quickly.

“So it’s really you.”

The horned demon spoke.

“You really were the Hero.”

The one said to be beyond even the reach of the previous Demon King. He had seen the man once long ago, so he remembered the face.

Though the expression now was different from then, it was still recognizable—barely.

‘But this… this is a complete change, isn’t it?’

He looked exhausted. The overwhelming aura of holy power that had once dominated the battlefield was completely gone.

‘So he can’t use holy power anymore.’

The horned demon couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up in his throat. He didn’t know what had happened or how the man had survived, but the Hero was now utterly broken.

He could tell. This Hero couldn’t possibly wield the same power he once had.

“Ah, you go by Demon King now, right?”

The horned demon sneered.

“That’s a problem. I don’t accept that.”

As he spoke, many other demons around them rose to their feet.

“Yeah, me neither!”

“A guy who used to be the Hero is the Demon King now?”

“Wasn’t he dead? That thing’s just a walking corpse!”

Mocking laughter filled the space. The horned demon curled his lips into a grin.

‘This is a chance.’

He had clearly meant to assert dominance right from the start, but that tactic had failed. The horned demon stood and looked down at Clay.

‘The previous Demon King bowed to this guy? Seriously?’

He couldn’t believe it. Sure, when he saw the Hero long ago, the strength had been overwhelming. But not anymore.

This guy was broken.

Whether he was dead or not, he was no longer the Hero of old.

Which meant—

“A rotting corpse like you, who should’ve stayed dead, shouldn’t be allowed to keep talking.”

The horned demon raised his fist high and then slammed it down toward the floor.

BOOM!

An explosion.

His fist smashed straight through the floor.

“!”

But the target wasn’t there.

The horned demon blinked and tried to lift his head—

Crunch!

—but couldn’t.

“Ugh…!”

Clay had pressed one hand down on his head.

“I figured someone like you would open with a mindless punch. But seeing it actually happen… it’s so predictable, it’s laughable.”

“You bastard!”

Whish!

The horned demon thrashed his head and swung both arms.

He was close enough to hit—but Clay simply took a few steps back, dodging with ease.

“Do you even understand what 'unorthodox' means?”

“What?”

“Like this—”

Clay suddenly ducked under his arm and drove an elbow upward.

CRACK!

A clean hit to the jaw.

The horned demon barely managed to stop his eyes from rolling back as he staggered backward.

“Your attacks are so straightforward… just a little deviation is enough to counter you.”

“RAAAARGH!”

The horned demon braced himself and charged, roaring.

“DIE!”

Tap!

There were no fancy techniques this time.

As the horned demon lunged in pure brute force, Clay simply grabbed his arm.

“Kugh?!”

Like a spike nailed into the earth, the arm froze in mid-motion—completely locked in place.

“What are you waiting for?! Hit him!”

“Attack already!”

The demons around him shouted, urging him on—but he couldn’t.

‘What the hell is this?!’

That broken-looking bastard, who looked like he had no strength left, wasn’t budging. He didn’t even twitch.

‘How can he have this kind of power?!’

Then he realized.

With all the Magia in the air around them, he hadn’t noticed.

He was in a space saturated with Magia—he hadn’t been able to sense it.

“You… you’re using Magia?!”

Clay was drawing in and using Magia. But not in massive amounts. If his body had been able to contain that much, his aura would have already given him away.

There was only one explanation.

He was compressing it—almost impossibly—and circulating it within his body.

“No way…”

He had condensed the Magia into hardened force, using it to completely lock down the horned demon’s arm.

In desperation, the demon swung his free arm.

If it required that much focus, he’d just interrupt it.

SLAM!

But it didn’t work.

The punch aimed at Clay’s head bounced off harmlessly.

“Gwah!”

“It’s too early for screaming.”

Clay raised his leg and slammed it into the demon’s knee.

The compressed Magia exploded into power, shattering the bone in an instant.

“Gghk?!”

As the horned demon lost balance, Clay drove a kick into his head.

CRASH!

The demon flew backward and slammed into the wall.

The resulting blast rattled the entire chamber.

When the dust cleared, he was embedded in the wall, mouth agape in a frozen scream.

Cracks spread across the wall before—crunch—he slid down and collapsed on the ground like a ragdoll.

“……”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Step. Step.

Clay walked forward slowly and stood at the center of the room.

“I came here to talk.”

He looked around and spoke calmly.

The dazed demons snapped out of it and began to scramble.

“Y-yessir!”

“Bring a chair! Quick!”

Finally, the real conversation was about to begin.

♧

The North of the Demon Territory was, for all intents and purposes, already in collapse.

To be precise, the demons were surviving through individual means only because the land was so barren.

And that had given rise to a lawless wilderness with no real structure.

“The North doesn’t have anything you’d call a proper stronghold—true?”

“……”

“Answer.”

Cardin pressed his foot down on the horned demon, who lay flat on the floor.

“If you insult His Majesty the Demon King again, I will not forgive you.”

“Y-yes, there’s nothing like that!”

The horned demon replied with his lips pressed to the floor.

“There are places demons gather, but… gah! It’s just to kill time without any real purpose! I swear!”

As Cardin ground his foot down harder, the horned demon hurriedly spoke. Clay rested his chin on one hand as he watched.

‘Just like Geshkafor said.’

He had said the same—that it would take time to seize control of the North in one sweep.

‘But…’

There was good news, wasn't there?

“I heard from Cardin that you lot were talking about the Witch of the Snowfields. Has she been sighted nearby?”

“If… if you mean the Witch of the Snowfields…”

“I mean the one who’s currently turning the North into a frozen wasteland.”

The horned demon nodded, forehead scraping the floor.

“Y-yes. She’s nearby.”

“So you were planning to use her as an excuse to gather power?”

“That’s correct.”

At that, Clay let out a dry chuckle.

“Pathetic as you are, your ambition was sizable.”

The Witch of the Snowfields was one of the Six Calamities said to exist in the world. Records stated that even gods were reluctant to confront a Calamity directly.

The thought of trying to stand against such a being was absurd, and yet, strangely, not a bad strategy.

“Then let me ask you.”

“W-what do you mean…?”

“If I take down the one who's about to freeze over the entire North, do you think I’ll gain a foothold powerful enough to unite it in one blow?”

The horned demon looked up at Clay, wide-eyed.

“What? Don’t tell me you never actually intended to face her?”

“T-that’s…”

“Then prove it.”

Clay commanded.

“Take me to where she was last seen. You’ll be at the front.”

“W-what?!”

“No way!”

The demons around him cried out in fear.

Standing at the vanguard before the Witch of the Snowfields was no different from volunteering to die.

“I wasn’t asking for your opinions.”

“Grrk—!”

“Screw that!”

The demons scattered in all directions.

They thought there was no way he could restrain dozens of them at once.

Shraaak!

But they were wrong.

Cardin unsheathed his sword and skewered several demons like a spit through meat.

Everyone froze in place.

“Wh-what the hell?!”

As the terrified demons stood paralyzed, Clay spoke again.

“Stand at the front. I won’t say it twice.”

And only then did the demons realize—

Just how gravely they had miscalculated.

♧

“Selvaro. What happened here?”

The royal palace of Hanumayer.

Lying wounded and barely conscious in bed, Selvaro was accompanied by someone whose presence here seemed oddly out of place.

“What exactly happened?”

Tia de Mezelef.

Because Ezer had not officially declared hostilities against the Holy Alliance, she had been able to travel through the skies via an undisclosed route connecting Ezer and Hanumayer.

Still, no matter how she arrived, there had been no reason for Tia to come to the North.

Selvaro, holding on to consciousness by a thread, turned his head to look at her.

“Tia de Mezelef.”

He spoke faintly.

“Selimia is gone.”

“Selimia?”

Tia blinked in confusion, then realized who he meant and continued.

“Selvaro, she—”

“She is my sister.”

Selvaro replied with a firm voice.

“She may not be the sister I was born with, but she was created in her likeness.”

“Even if she’s a Calamity?”

“Whether Calamity or not, if she was born using my sister’s lingering thoughts… then I have no reason not to call her my sister.”

“I see.”

Tia’s expression relaxed.

“I’m glad. I’ve been searching for someone… not so different.”

“Someone like that?”

“Clay.” Tia closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, “Someone I lost due to my own foolishness. Maybe… just like you tried to protect Selimia, no matter what form she took—I should have done the same.”

But the time to do so had already passed.

Now, all that remained was deep regret over losing everything she had once tried to protect.

“Even so, I’m the Empress of Ezer.”

Wearing the crown of an emperor, she had to bear the weight that came with it.

Ezer had to survive—no matter what.

And that was all she had left she could still protect.

“I’ll do anything it takes to preserve Ezer.”

“So that includes… finding the Hero?”

Selvaro’s question lingered in the air, but Tia didn’t answer.

Selvaro spoke again.

“Seems you can’t admit whether you need him to protect Ezer—or if you simply want him back.”

“…I don’t know which comes first.”

“No, you do.” Selvaro winced in pain as he slowly sat up, “But talk is cheap. If you help me find my sister, I have no reason not to help you.”

His eyes gleamed sharply.

“Though I’d like to ask just one thing. Wasn’t the Hero supposed to be dead?”

“He was. But… for some reason, he came back to life.”

An unprecedented phenomenon.

It was something no one could explain.

“…I see.”

But Selvaro had long accepted the inexplicable—after all, his sister was one such impossibility.

He didn’t question it.

Whether it was true or not simply didn’t matter to him.

“Then tell me where the Hero is.”

The only thing that mattered now—

Was that wherever the Hero went, his sister might be there too.

(End of Chapter)