I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist

Arjen took the place of Andrei and was attacked by the cultists. Somehow, it seemed so out of character for him, yet felt so right. I was lost in thought, oblivious to my surroundings, my head rattling with the rocking of the carriage.

Isila was silent. It wasn’t because she was timid but because she would never be the one to initiate conversation.

The carriage came to a halt. I snapped out of my reverie as my body jerked forward. It rattled as the horse whinnied, tugging it slightly. I heard the panicked coachman calming his horse. The sliding door between the coachman’s seat and the passengers opened, and the coachman stuck his face in.

“Well, sir. My horse isn’t listening to me right now….”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, it’s stopped and refuses to go forward.”

The scenery outside the window was idyllic. A path lined with shrubbery. The bent grass was yellow and white at the ends. And less than a hundred meters ahead was the city entrance. The horses, looking at the town, swiveled their heads side to side in fear and anxiety.

“They’re anxious for some reason. I’m sorry, sir, but if I force the horse to go any further than this, they might go wild….”

“Yes, I understand. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Isila follows me out of the carriage. The coachman laboriously turned the horses to head back the way we had come, and we were left standing on the road, staring at the walls.

“The heretics took over the village and have either converted all the people who used to live there or killed them.”

Isila said, walking ahead of me. Her voice was as dry as the ground.

“The dead were rounded up and burned. So don’t trust anyone.”

The village was intact as if only the people had been removed. The stores, shops, and houses were left untouched. Isila led me into a building.

“And this is where we fought him.”

Blood, bodies, and more blood.

Dazed, I stood in the middle of the hallway, taking in my surroundings. My head ached as it was. My senses were overloaded. Spoiled food, rotting bodies, the remnants of mana, someone’s severed leg, and the bodies of dead Inquisitors leaning against the wall. I closed their eyes.

(…Something has gone terribly wrong.)

It was a literal massacre. There were at least twenty bodies strewn about. Some of the faces I recognized, some I knew by name.

“I don’t think they’re all dead. There were more of us here.”

Isila seemed nonchalant about their deaths. But I could see the shadows growing on her face.

“I don’t see the Bishop. Did he make it out alive?”

“I don’t know, though I don’t think he would go down so easily..”

Isila trailed off. There was no change in her voice, but I knew that inside, she was anything but.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. We exist by killing, so it is the fate of the Inquisitors to be killed by someone. That’s how we’re trained; that’s what we believe.”

For them, death was business. Marianne must have lived with this idea until she met me, and we started traveling the world together. The education, or brainwashing, to not have emotions about death. Ironically, it was their way of surviving.

“There’s not a single trail out of the building, which means Arjen isn’t the only one who escaped alive. Let’s see if we can find any traces.”

With that, Isila set to work searching for signs. I, meanwhile, went deeper into the last base of the doomsday worshippers. I glanced at the door, which still bore the marks of fingernail scratches. I wondered what was going on in there.

(The magic is strong, Elroy. Don’t stay too long.)

“Okay. I’ll investigate a bit and then return.”

A smudge of blood or something else was smeared on the floor like a paintbrush stroke. Other than that, the room was small and empty.

“…Are they even doing anything?”

(The object of their worship is real. Its presence is clearly felt by all its worshippers. Why would they chase an intangible being with complicated rituals?)

Holy Sword retorted bitterly.

The room was chilly, like stepping into a refrigerator. Pure darkness without light. The dark magic I could feel with every breath I took lunged instinctively for my heart, bumped into my mana, and vanished like smoke. I cranked it up a notch, gauging the reaction of the remaining mana.

“It’s not backing down.”

The residual magic in the room didn’t back down but became downright hostile. I wiggled my eyebrows at the dark flesh rising throughout the space. A void deeper than darkness had gathered, tentacles writhing like threads in the center of the backdrop.

“…This doesn’t feel like a Disaster. If anything, it seems more dangerous. What the hell is that?”

“(…A remnant of the evil gods. Elroy, you’d better not get too close.)

The Holy Sword warned in a low voice. The door behind me was closed, and the lantern’s light faded into oblivion. The light itself seemed to tremble with fear.

(Use the crown.)

I shake my head. I had recognized that the aura was strange. But I felt the need to explore it.

“No, wait. I have an experiment.”

(What type of idiot–!)

I stepped toward the mass of mana before the Holy Sword could finish its sentence. It moved l across the ground. I dropped all defenses against it–crownless, without mana, without the thought of escape–and it crept closer.

(It’s too dangerous!)

“Just a little longer.”

Darkness, but darker. An archaic existence that came before light. It came at me very slowly, like a python scrutinizing its prey, sizing it up. Its tongue hissed. I heard the Holy Sword’s pleas to move away, but I took another step closer.

It’s been a long time.

An eerie voice rings in my ears. Before I knew it, I was in deep darkness.

I decided to take the bait and ask.

I wondered if that voice was the source of the magic I’d been so afraid of.

But it was different.

I heard a voice I couldn’t describe. It felt masculine, yet feminine. Deep, yet high. The voice seemed to come from within me and from far away. I felt an eerie sensation like sandpaper rubbing against my spine. I had trouble breathing.

「Child, why are you still doing this?」

‘How am I a child?’ I wanted to retort, but all that came out was a shrill cry. I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I listened. Did it do something to Arjen? I took a deep breath.

“Don’t act friendly with me.”

「It’s natural to be afraid of the dark, child, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.」

“Aren’t you the shameful one for hiding your face?”

A laugh erupted as if mocking my words. To say that the voice’s laughter was eerie would be an understatement; it was more disturbing than the sound of a fingernail scraping against a chalkboard. It sounded like something that wasn’t human was forcing itself to mimic a human. Or maybe it was deliberately making it unnatural. (TN: Sorry, my fingers hurt thinking about this, so I took a break.)

「Child, what are you talking about?」

After laughing for a long time, the voice spoke again. Something darker than darkness produced something resembling a smile.

「The darkness is me. Or, more accurately, it is a part of me.」

Its voice had a certain ring. A transcendent existence. Something inexplicable, unique to it. It could strike fear into the world simply by naming and revealing itself.

「Child, do you understand what is happening now?」

I felt an unfamiliar sensation at my feet. It’s like a giant tentacle is reaching out and wrapping itself around my ankle. I stayed still and let it do whatever it wanted. I didn’t move, yet the darkness couldn’t touch me.

“…I don’t know the situation I’m in now. However, I do know one thing.”

No time for more pranks.

“You’re pretty weak for someone who talks so much, huh?”

A golden circle floated overhead. The darkness around it shatters and scatters. It receded as I approached, and I pushed it until there was no room to retreat.

「You can’t say you’ve extinguished flames by stepping on the ashes as something burned elsewhere.」

“Then, will you guide me to where those flames are?”

It laughs again. I could feel a sense of pride from within it.

「You’ll meet the twisted one soon enough, my child. Everything follows its own path. Especially in your case, for you are bound to that path.」

“You make it sound like it’s my burden alone.”

「Not so, child, for I, too, am bound to that path. You must realize that even the most absolute beings are not free from the yoke of fate.」

The voice spoke with a laugh. The darkness crumbled, but the voice did not fade away.

「I’ve run out of time, but I’ll see you later.」

The darkness was gathered into a tiny spot, and I lifted my foot slowly, stepping on the darkness that no longer spoke. It hissed like water being poured on fire.

The light from the extinguished lamp returned. It was a paler shade of blue than before, and the lantern cast an odd glow around the room. I looked at it and sighed. A chill lingered in the space.

(Elroy.)

It was only then that I heard the Holy Sword’s voice. Her voice was cold, filled with concern and anger. Before I knew it, my grip was tightening on the hilt of the Holy Sword.

(I told you not to do it.)

“I’m sorry.”

I looked down at what remained of the darkness. There was nothing there, just as shadows disappear in the light.

(I told you it was dangerous.)

The Holy Sword’s voice was fierce. It almost worried me. I scratched the back of my head and lowered my voice. The world would end tomorrow if I failed to calm her down.

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt.”

(I told you not to do it…)

“I’m okay.”

I unsheathed the Holy Sword from my waist and hugged it. Just to get a little closer.

A little closer.

“…What happened?”

I heard Isila poke her head in, and I turned and locked eyes with her. She scratched her head, looking at the Holy Sword in my embrace curiously, then looked outside.

“I found a trail.”

Ever so slightly, I could hear joy.

“The Bishop is still alive.”