The Hero Who Returned From Death Quits chapter 0

0 – EP0. The End of the Journey

Time began to stretch, slowing down gradually.

A familiar sensation, one I had experienced countless times: the feeling of death.

I started to gaze at the presence before me.

A massive horned figure with jet-black hair and crimson eyes, the very embodiment of the Demon King.

And he was swinging his sword ever closer toward me.

I was certain of my impending fate, as I began to recall the series of events I had experienced countless times before.

Soon, the edge of that blade would surely touch my throat, and in an instant, I would tumble to the ground, blood staining the earth, my body and head struggling to find their proper place.

Then, one by one, the connections in my nerves would start to sever, and as my vision darkened, my senses would fade away until my soul floated, experiencing a peculiar sense of weightlessness, much like a shipwrecked fragment floating to the surface on the sea.

Next, I would face a brilliant light, like fragments of a shipwreck catching the sunlight.

Then, and then again, whether an immeasurable amount of time had passed or just an instant, when I opened my eyes, I would find myself once more facing my former self, right before the battle with the Demon King.

After repeating this series of events, another cycle would begin.

To fight the Demon King again and experience this strange death that felt like an eternity or an instant.

Perhaps, I would never escape from this cycle until I managed to kill the Demon King.

I started to consider the positive side of things.

The positive aspect was that this time, I had managed to put up a decent fight against the Demon King, and maybe, I could gradually find a strategy to defeat him.

But the negative aspect was that this might be my last chance to kill the Demon King with my meager talents in swordsmanship, magic, miracles, and even black magic, all reaching their limits.

I dismissed the latter thought.

No matter how formidable the opponent, if I continued to fight and die, someday, I might get lucky and find a weak point.

Even if I lost and died countless times, I thought, all I needed was to win just once in the end.

Finally, as I felt the sensation of the end of life approaching, my body instinctively made the familiar move: a thrust.

It was an instinctual action performed in the final moments of death.

And when I felt my Holy Sword piercing into something, a shower of blood filled my vision.

It wasn’t mine.

Time, which had been stretched taut like a taut string, abruptly returned to its original speed, and as I regained my senses, I found myself thrusting my sword into the Demon King’s abdomen.

Regaining my senses, I saw the Demon King glaring at me with a hateful look in his crimson eyes, blood dripping from his lips, his arm, which had been about to swing the sword at me, hanging limply like a broken puppet.

And then, as the bleeding from his abdomen ceased, the Demon King turned into ashes.

My companions, who were rushing towards me, came into view.

My journey to defeat the Demon King had ended so futilely.