Yuri stood with his arms outstretched, drunk on the euphoria of becoming a living legend. Meanwhile, his companions were busy slaughtering the orcs.
“The Black Demon and his followers…”
This scene might one day be recorded in the orcs’ history books.
Yuri raised his sword again.
Though he had ended up killing the orcs who worshipped him, he felt no remorse. As he had said before, he was no god—he was a demon. And those who worship demons were just as villainous.
“If I spare one, ten more will die later.”
If he hesitated out of personal feelings, he would bear responsibility for the future sacrifices.
So Yuri lifted his sword once more.
Since he was worshipped as a demon, it was time to act like one.
His blade struck the orcs’ necks with deadly precision. The orcs, having given up resistance, had their heads fly through the air. Faces spinning upward in arcs, they looked down at Yuri from above.
The expressions on the orcs’ faces—ones he hadn’t seen before because he’d been looking down—were all strangely peaceful.
It was eerie.
Standing amid this bizarre scene, Yuri felt a strange sense of alienation at being a killer harvesting orc necks.
It didn’t feel real.
Yet his hands faithfully carried out the massacre.
Perhaps this warped sensation was the very landscape of the battles he was destined to fight.
His enemies were not knights from other lands or soldiers following a king’s orders, but monsters that roamed the world, creating realms of terror beyond human comprehension.
The demon’s grimoire.
Maybe even this scene was orchestrated by that entity.
As proof, the being summoned from the otherworld stood atop the orcs’ altar.
Yuri beheaded another orc and looked up.
Blood splattered, forming a crimson storm. Through the spray, something flickered.
A smile tugged at Yuri’s lips.
He hadn’t been mistaken. Beyond the bloodshed, that presence was watching him.
The mysterious tentacled monster that Sybilla had tried to create, the one the orcs worshipped.
It was staring at Yuri.
A being forbidden in this world.
But Yuri felt no fear. When their eyes met, the creature whispered an unholy language he couldn’t understand, but Yuri remained unmoved.
Because—
“I’m a demon too…”
He was no different from that monster—the Black Demon himself.
Laughing, Yuri slashed wildly at the orcs’ necks. The tentacled creature’s form blurred and then vanished.
“Running away, huh?”
Yuri muttered and cut down another orc. This time, there was a reaction.
An orc that had been lying down rose and blocked Yuri’s sword with its weapon.
One by one, the orcs who had been waiting helplessly for death began to stand. They no longer accepted death quietly as before.
A fight broke out.
Yuri felt a subtle pang of regret. Jared rushed over.
“Your Highness, they’re suddenly getting up!”
“They’re not giving in.”
“Huh?”
“They’ve given up on tricks working, so now they’re just struggling!”
Jared looked confused, but Yuri shrugged.
There was no time to explain now.
“I’ll tell you later. Just kill them all!”
“There are too many!”
“Then kill more!”
The otherworldly monster worshipped by the orcs was trying to do something to Yuri.
Probably a mental attack.
The orcs, who had worshipped the grotesque creature, suddenly bowed their heads. Yuri cut them down like a machine, but the dying orcs’ faces were as peaceful as ever.
This strange situation muddled the mind.
The moment one lost their grip on reality and doubted themselves, the vision of the tentacled monster would appear among the splattered blood, chanting incomprehensible spells to ensnare their soul.
Any ordinary person might have had their sanity shattered.
But Yuri was not consumed by madness.
“How ridiculous. Tentacle bastard…”
He could vaguely sense what kind of being he would have to face.
One that injected unbearable madness into humans, driving them insane, then fed on their broken minds.
An ugly tentacled monster.
He’d probably have to deal with that creature before destroying the demon’s grimoire.
Yuri vented his frustration on the orc blocking his path.
“Hey, orc. Move!”
“Akuaaktar!”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The orc shouted something, but Yuri couldn’t understand. He suddenly missed Kori.
I wonder how she’s doing now.
Probably getting scolded by Kruar.
“Hey, orc bastard. Who do you trust more—the tentacled monster or the Black Demon?”
“Ummetun Akmetun!”
“You heretic!”
“Akuaaktar!”
“Too late!”
Yuri became the Black Demon punishing unbelievers, slaughtering the orcs.
Swirling vortexes erupted above his sword, tearing the orcs’ bodies apart.
After repeated slaughter, the ground was soaked with blood, and chunks of flesh stuck to their bodies, filling the air with a foul stench.
And it wasn’t just Yuri.
“…”
At the end of the massacre, the knights of Valshard stared at Yuri with dazed expressions.
Their bodies, like Yuri’s, were stained with blood, and their blades were smeared with flesh.
Yuri approached them.
“Hey.”
“Uh…”
Their eyes were vacant.
Yuri slapped the cheek of the knight at the front.
“Snap out of it.”
“Uh…”
“Tired from killing so many orcs?”
“No.”
“Think of it this way: one orc equals ten people.”
Yuri grabbed the knight’s collar and brought his face close.
“If you hesitate and let one slip because of doubts about the slaughter, ten humans will die because of it. And it won’t be a peaceful death. Do you know what happens to prisoners?”
“…”
“You’re a knight.”
Yuri struck his chest.
“A knight has duties. Bear the weight of blood. Fulfill the duty given to you.”
The faint light of resolve returned to the knight’s eyes. He met Yuri’s gaze and nodded.
“Understood.”
“Good.”
The Valshard knights moved again.
Though the orcs’ renewed resistance slowed them down, Yuri had already eliminated the toughest opponents, so it wasn’t a big problem.
In the end, an entire orc settlement was wiped out.
The enclosure was filled with orc corpses.
“Phew…”
Yuri wiped the sweat from his brow. Killing so many was exhausting.
Following Yuri’s orders, the knights set fire to the settlement. Soon, flames engulfed the area, consuming the orc bodies.
“That’s one more done.”
“Good work.”
“A rewarding task.”
“Indeed.”
Hands on his hips, Yuri watched the fire and suddenly noticed something on the ground. He bent down and picked it up.
Jared tilted his head.
“That’s….”
“A tentacled monster.”
It was a statue of the tentacled creature the orcs worshipped.
Despite being orcs, whoever made it had good craftsmanship. Though small, the grotesque form was vividly detailed.
Yuri tossed the statue into the air.
“Pretty well made, even though they’ve never seen the real thing.”
“Does the fact that orcs made this mean they’re still under the influence of the demon’s grimoire?”
“Could be.”
Yuri clenched the statue tightly.
“Orcs themselves were born from dark magic, so maybe this monster still lingers in their subconscious. Either way, I think I’ll have to face this ugly bastard someday. Don’t you think?”
“Definitely.”
“Don’t run away scared when that time comes.”
“Run away? No, I’ll avoid it because it’s disgusting.”
“Even if it’s disgusting, you have to fight.”
“Ugh…”
Jared shuddered, and Yuri chuckled, then threw the statue into the flames.
It burned up instantly.
“Ugly as hell, but I want to see whose kid this is. I wonder if this bastard would whine if I cut him with a sword.”
While Yuri and his group wiped out the remaining orc forces on the plains, many things were happening across the continent.
Luther, now king of the Holy Kingdom, made peace with the king of Bursen, meeting him personally and sharing drinks to restore their alliance.
Liberda, having driven out Donchichi, strengthened the knights’ forces under Moyongchan’s guidance.
Joshua, king of Briole, leveraged the strong royal authority built by his predecessors to implement reforms—repairing roads, boosting commerce, and introducing systematic training for soldiers.
In contrast, the Empire remained inactive.
When they attacked Yohaim and marched troops toward Briole, it seemed they might launch a conquest across the continent, but now they were silent, biding their time.
“Hmm…”
Reading a newspaper summarizing these events, Kori tilted her head.
She asked Laurent, who sat across from her.
“What do you think, Laurent?”
The masked swordsman Kori had felt familiar with before was, as she suspected, Laurent. Though his face had been disfigured by recent events, he was indeed Laurent Flandre.
Laurent spoke.
“Enough noise. Be quiet.”
“Yes…”
Kori recalled past events.
When she was with the circus troupe, they had offended a noble, who offered to spare them if they could avoid Laurent’s sword.
The circus had no right to refuse.
Among those Laurent had to avoid striking with his sword was Cory. Laurent swung his blade toward Cory, who reflexively dodged. Even Cory found it hard to believe he had evaded Laurent’s attack.
Meanwhile, the circus troupe, thrown into chaos, scattered and fled.
Chaos erupted from all sides, and Cory seized the opportunity to escape.
Laurent pursued them.
But Laurent was different now. He was no longer gentle as before; cold and distant, he even sneered at Cory.
When Cory tried earnestly to reason with him, Laurent responded by swinging his sword again.
Cory ran for his life.
Then, in the midst of it all, other knights chasing the circus troupe tried to kill Laurent—simply because they didn’t like his appearance, a very knightly reason indeed.
In the end, Laurent became a fugitive himself.
Cory began to follow him.
Of course, Laurent was not friendly toward Cory. Whatever had happened, he was a completely changed man.
“I heard Prince Yuri has become the Crown Prince now. We should call him Your Highness…”
Mentioning Yuri in particular made Laurent’s expression harden.
“If you say another word, I’ll kill you.”
“Y-Yes…”
Before, Cory had followed him loyally, swearing allegiance, but now just hearing the name Yuri made Laurent flare with anger.
Cory sniffled as he reread the newspaper.
“It’s cold…”
He thought back to the old days—when they moved as one. Though times were tough, it never felt so hard because they were together.
Cory glanced at Laurent.
“…”
They were camping outside the village, having fled. The fire crackled as it consumed gathered branches.
Shadows flickered across Laurent’s face in the firelight.
Once, his face had been clean and noble. Now, it was utterly changed—more monstrous than Cory’s own half-orc features, almost unbearable to look at. Cory had asked how he’d come to look like this, but Laurent said nothing.
Cory lowered his gaze.
“Where do we go now?”
“Be quiet.”
“Do we have a destination?”
Laurent didn’t answer.
Cory mulled over Laurent’s cold response and lifted his eyes again. Laurent’s hideous, transformed face was etched into his mind.
He looked inward, into his own heart.
And he realized something.
Seeing Laurent’s monstrous face, he felt a deep sense of relief.