12 – It’s okay to cry.
Dark mages.
They were those who utilized magic through the power of demons. The nature of its power was akin to magic, but its essence was closer to ‘demonic power’. In fact, it was essentially demonic power.
Those ancient evil gods who lost their power and were exiled to the outer world, were the present-day demons.
The power was insignificant compared to the goddess who guards the mortal world or the demon king who blesses the netherworld. However, that was only if the premise was ‘god’. Their immense power was incredibly dangerous for mere humans to handle.
Dark mages were able to use magic by borrowing power from such demons.
“…Therefore, you also be careful, Kana. The power used by dark mages is not fundamentally different from ‘The Hero’s Power’. It’s a power lent from beings that were once called gods.”
“Ah, stop nagging! Don’t you trust me, Woocheon?”
“I trust you.”
“…Damn, that’s true. You’re cheesy.”
“Is that so?”
I still don’t understand what the meaning of ‘cheesy’ is. Scarlet used to say such things whenever I answered sincerely.
Do people who use the same ‘Hero’s Power’ understand each other to some extent? It was kinda intriguing.
As we engaged in casual chatter with the hero, we arrived at the dungeon where the dark wizards were believed to have nestled their lair. It had been a dungeon originally managed by the demon clan, which was now abandoned and overtaken by wild monsters.
Such dilapidated dungeons are seldom visited by adventurers. With monsters of just the right level, it made for a perfect hideout.
“Is this the place for sure?”
“Yes, it is. Although it’s likely that various means have been employed inside the dungeon to thoroughly conceal their stronghold…”
“I can find it. Oh goddess, a light like the North Star that guides the sailors trapped at sea. Holy Sword, lead the way!”
A golden glow emanated from the Holy Sword. I felt a chill spread through my body as my mana responded to the hero’s power.
The golden light, spreading like fog, began to coalesce, shining brightly, and then unraveled into a thin line that stretched into the depths of the dungeon, leading to some unseen location.
“Is this some kind of tracking ability?”
“Yes. But Rain, you’re looking a bit pale. Are you alright?”
“No problem. Let’s prioritize hunting down the dark wizards.”
I felt slightly dizzy due to the hero’s power.
It didn’t use to affect me this much before, but it seemed that the hero had grown stronger after the encounter with the dark wizard in the warehouse. Even I, a half-demon, was feeling woozy from the mere after-effects, so most pure-blooded demons likely couldn’t withstand even a single strike from the hero.
If I were to compare this power to that of Scarlet, who wields a similar strength… Scarlet may surpass in terms of power output, but in terms of purity of power, the hero was far superior, making them nearly equal.
If the two were to clash, it was clear the demon, Scarlet, would be overwhelmingly defeated.
“Alright, let’s go!”
It was time to enter the tiger’s den…or rather, the fox’s.
*
Slugs are demon clan members resembling snails.
Often mistaken for beasts or monsters due to their appearance, they possess intellect and are protected by the Demon God. Their kind dwell in the swampy jungles of the southern demon world and are exploited by the ill-tempered witches, who use their mucus to concoct strange magical potions.
They belong to the lowest tier of the ecosystem, mere prey that monsters occasionally devour, constantly exploited, hiding beneath the sticky swamps with only their breathing pores exposed. Such was the reality and fate of the Slug clan.
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A destiny that seemed eternal and unchangeable, determined by birth. Slugs didn’t think it could ever change.
Even when one with modest talent managed to secure employment at the Demon Lord’s castle, aspirations remained modest. Slugs knew their place.
Unlike some minority clans who indulged in empty dreams and vain hopes, they understood deep down in their very bones—though as mollusks, they technically had none—that the differences between clans represented an insurmountable reality.
To not see the reality for what it is, is the height of folly. After all, one cannot change their birthright.
Having watched their parents—a hermaphroditic species that didn’t require gender distinctions—being preserved alive and drained of their mucus by the witches, Slugs had always lived within such conviction.
But watching the half-demon act with such casual foolishness,
Slugs suddenly found themselves yearning for that very foolishness. How can someone be so… foolhardy? Such actions would surely change nothing.
Curiosity about the unknown. Fear of the unknown. The emotions felt toward Rain grew ever more intense.
Eventually, out of a mixture of curiosity and fear, Slugs had no choice but to inquire.
How is it possible to raise one’s voice against those powerful, dominant members of the demon clan? Isn’t such defiance in the face of someone stronger sheer recklessness?
Rain’s answer to that question was of a sort hard to understand at first.
-“Those demons are strong, right? If we accidentally hurt the pride of the dragon clan, we wouldn’t even be able to fight back, we’d be charred and dead. If life can be taken at any time due to someone’s caprice, it’s not really our own. It belongs to the powerful. That’s why we resist. We just want to breathe on our own.”
He couldn’t accept it. It was nonsense, mere sophistry.
Not wanting to admit that the reality he believed in was only an excuse, he almost screamed in rebuttal to Rain’s words. He argued that it was the right thing to do to survive, even if it meant surrender.
He said that life has no master, and that there is no difference between being spared and surviving.
He didn’t even understand why he was arguing so much.
Rain didn’t dispute his words. Instead, she touched her neck with one hand, wearing an inscrutable smile, took a deep breath, and muttered a few words.
-“When you face an unbearable trial, and if you kill yourself because you don’t have the freedom to overcome it, it’d be a very sad thing…”
…He remembered his parents.
Being kept alive by the witches, only secreting mucous, they could not be said to be alive.
The witch’s spell did not even allow death. If hunted creatures can only survive by the hunter’s mercy, then farmed creatures can only live their lives at the mercy of the farmer. If it is right for prey to resist in order to live, then it was also right for livestock to resist in order to die.
His parents wanted to die.
But they couldn’t kill themselves…
He killed his parents with his own tentacles…
He couldn’t remember much that happened after.
He just seemed to have cried for a long time. Mucous poured out of his antennae. He made a ghastly sound as his vocal organs were inundated with it.
Rain seemed to be very flustered.
Rain had muttered something then. Ah, she definitely said something like,
-“Do the demons from the demon planet always cry this much…?”
It seems there were other demons who shed tears in front of Rain. It was funny and caused him to laugh while crying. The swollen mucous popped and covered Rain completely.
He laughed for a while looking at it. He cried, laughed, screamed and cried again.
Perhaps the other demons who cried in front of Rain felt the same way. Rain… was very special. It was inevitable to become a crybaby in front of someone who says it’s okay to cry.
He couldn’t cry normally. After all, the demon world wasn’t a place that could tolerate the tears of weak demons.
Rain was our world.
A world where crying was okay… a gentle and warm cradle of a world.
He thinks the world Rain wanted to make would have been the same. The Demon World that Rain dreamt of must have been such a cradle too. If Rain were alive… surely she could have made such a Demon World.
Rain gave us that certainty. She made us believe her seemingly nonsensical ideas.
Only Rain could do that.
It was something impossible for the other demons.
Because only Rain, among all the demons, could accept the tears of another.
So now it was impossible.
Rain had died. In the wake of the Hero’s sword, and the loathsome blades of the human tribe, the future of the demon world had crumbled.
There was no longer a cradle.
No world where it was okay to cry.
There was only the frozen ground, swept by the icy north wind, where tears would freeze before falling, and people would cut each other down for a piece of firewood.
That was the world suitable for us demons.
That’s how it should have been from the start.
The dungeon would not be a labyrinth anymore but a bridgehead. It was going to be a springboard to invade the human world.
So, there was no need for defenses now. There was no need for treasures to lure the adventurers.
What was needed was a comprehensive overhaul. Using the authority of a dungeon manager left by Rain, he planned to remodel all dungeons into outposts for the invasion.
The first order of business,
He intended to reopen the discontinued dungeons that had been closed down because they weren’t efficient.
All of them.