The hero's body was thrown aside and then vanished, swallowed by a glitch—along with the blood on his right hand.
They stood frozen, shaken, not knowing what to do anymore.
With their own eyes, they had watched him kill Charlotte, the legendary hero whose beauty could make anyone fall in love—killed in a brutal manner.
"Th-that couldn't be the real hero! That must be an illusion!" shouted the leader, still trying to gather the courage that had completely vanished, as shown by his violently trembling hands.
"Illusion or not, you wouldn't want to feel what she did, would you?"
The leader looked left and right, growled, and finally chose to move forward—he had no other way out. Death was the only path left.
Far better than being tortured at his hands.
Seeing their leader make that choice, the rest had no choice but to charge forward, channeling mana into their weapons, even though their fighting spirit was long gone. Only fear was visible on their faces.
A final act of desperation before their lives came to an end.
However, after hearing what they said, he would not grant them mercy so easily. They would have to suffer a punishment so heavy it would slowly erode their souls, draining their will to live until they died on their own.
What? He wasn't cruel.
Only to those who deserved it.
After all, he was once human—so he would never let anyone insult them except himself.
Unfair?
He possessed power. In the face of absolute power, anything becomes fair.
Before their attacks could reach him, everything froze. Not one of them could move—not even the air. Everything stopped as he calmly walked forward, observing them up close, especially the leader who wished to beg for mercy but could not open his mouth.
"There's no need to worry, it's not yet your time to die."
With a snap of his fingers, thousands of glitches appeared on their bodies, repeatedly taking and restoring their internal organs and limbs within seconds, keeping them alive. It inflicted endless pain without giving them a chance to escape life.
A cruel punishment—and one that brought him satisfaction.
"Enjoy the end of your lives. Pray for death, because this will continue until it finally comes for you."
He vanished, leaving them behind—eyes wide in desperation, wanting to scream but unable to. The glitch kept taking and restoring their mouths, so all that came out sounded like a broken cassette tape.
A second later, he was back in the capital, observing the masterpiece being prepared by the cultists. The citizens were being gathered into the center of the capital—into a vast area large enough to contain them all.
The knights and Adventurers had already been heavily wounded by him and Orange Hair, rendering them completely unable to help. They were even displayed around the area, a show that there was no more hope for humanity—not only in this city, but in all others, towns, and even kingdoms.
They would all become slaves.
Not far ahead, standing on a stage made of ruins, was the grand mage, staring at the citizens with hollow eyes, having lost all light and spirit—especially considering what he was about to say.
The king, queen, and their children were also there, standing in silence, praying everything would somehow be okay.
"The grand mage has an announcement for all of you, news that will make you understand why we are doing this, why the Demon King desires your enslavement," his voice echoed through the air.
He glanced at the grand mage, who then let out a heavy sigh, as if his soul was slowly leaving his body. "Humans…" he began with deep regret. "...have a dark secret. A massive, terrifying secret. One that will bring catastrophe upon us all."
Everyone held their breath.
"The instruments we've used all this time—used since ancient times…" He paused, trying to gather the courage to continue. "...are a lie."
The people of the capital were stunned.
"Those instruments were not meant to seal the Demon King, but rather…" another heavy sigh escaped him, "...to resurrect him."
In that moment, the atmosphere turned grim.
Everything they had learned since childhood, everything they believed in and revered as the greatness of the heroes, was a lie.
A lie that was the complete opposite of the instruments' true purpose.
And as humans do, they screamed, shouted, claiming it couldn't be true—that it was just an illusion crafted by demons to deceive them.
Trying to escape the truth, even when it stood before their eyes.
But they only sank further into the darkness—because they had grown too comfortable within it.
He had expected this.
After all, this kind of thing often happened in his world. It was no longer surprising to see the capital's citizens in uproar, while children cried as they watched their parents overwhelmed by rage and hatred.
Something they had never seen before, now laid bare—and would forever be seared into memory.
A generational trauma, all at once.
Did he feel pity?
No.
They needed this suffering—to cleanse themselves from the darkness. They had to pull themselves out—not with another's helping hand, because then they'd only fall into the same darkness again.
Whether they could or not was up to them.
Those who gave up would be swallowed by the world, while those who endured would become something new—those who would one day lead humanity forward.
"There is one more thing," said the grand mage, causing silence to fall once again.
Because deep down, they knew—what he said was true.
"Humanity has only grown powerful and vast because we've been stealing mana from the other races—using that very same instrument."
This was the final hammer blow—the one that would shatter their current society. Shattering the belief that those instruments were their salvation.
Why?
Because humans believed they had become better than in the past. From being slaves—at the bottom of the food chain—to reaching the top through generations of hard work. But that belief was destroyed in an instant by truth. A fact that, if they couldn't endure it, would wipe out all of human civilization.
Not only did they not know who or what to trust anymore, but panic rose from the possible reactions of other races.
Should they act now while others were still unaware? Or hide?
Their minds were clouded by fear, overwhelmed by negative thoughts, and it didn't take long before one of them snapped.
And it happened just moments later.
The grand mage drew a dagger and slit his own throat, blood gushing out as eyes widened across the crowd.
Blood painted the ground, his last breath stolen in front of thousands—especially children, whose parents were too slow to cover their eyes.
The burden was too heavy, even for someone like him, who collapsed without uttering a single farewell.
His body rolled down the stage and came to a stop on the street, where people now screamed and panicked—no longer able to calm themselves, their minds fogged and breaking down.
More and more knights and Adventurers gave up on surviving.
Their critical injuries gave them a shortcut to death—an escape from a world that was about to descend into chaos. While those who remained had lost the light in their eyes, looking hollow and empty—more like dolls than living beings.