The war council held before the demon king the day after the nightmare at Myuronba—an utter disaster for the demon army—was cloaked in an atmosphere heavier than usual.
At the center of it stood General Butare.
He was the one tasked with reporting the appalling results of the previous night.
Of course, this daring operation to strike old human territories with small elite units—pioneered by Guarani—had in the past led to devastating losses, such as the near-annihilation of Jajou’s subordinates on that very same day.
However, those were cases where the enemy held overwhelming advantages at the outset. This time, the conditions were not particularly unfavorable, and yet, against a team of merely five adventurers, over fifty warriors were annihilated in an instant—without even managing to injure a single foe. Such a complete defeat was unprecedented.
Naturally, Butare had wanted to bury this disgrace in the shadows, keeping it hidden from the king and his fellow generals. But the king’s command made that impossible:
“To avoid repeating the same mistakes, all failures must be fully disclosed. If it is discovered that anyone has withheld or falsified a report, they will be severely punished, regardless of who they are.”
The king’s orders were absolute. As with others who had failed before him, Butare had no choice but to report everything told to him by the surviving mage and his escort soldiers. Naturally, their words were not only heard by the king but by everyone present at the council.
Which explains something:
The reason Guarani knew in such suspicious detail about the failed mission wasn’t because of secret informants—but because, even as a lower-ranked member, he regularly attended the council meetings and heard the official reports firsthand.
“...Talk about bad luck, running into the Hero.”
Guarani muttered this sarcastically once the report ended.
Of course, the attackers had never given their names, so no one could say with certainty who they were.
Yet Guarani instantly declared they must have been the Hero’s party. And not only he—everyone present at the meeting reached the same conclusion.
Why?
Because:
First, the appearance and weapons of the five attackers matched descriptions of the Hero and their companions gathered from previous intelligence.
Second—and more decisively—their overwhelming strength. The demon warriors, each claiming combat ability equivalent to five human soldiers, were utterly helpless. Such an outcome could only happen if the attackers were the Hero.
That was the shared belief among all present.
But this certainty was about to crumble over the next three days, as similar—but slightly different—incidents began to occur one after another, throwing the demon army’s leadership into utter confusion.
The first of these incidents occurred in the town of Mukangia, on the opposite side of the demon territory from Myuronba.
“A… a woman knight, you say?!”
The general who had dispatched the defeated troops—Achilles Mamoré—was astonished by the report from the few soldiers who barely made it back alive.
“Are you sure it was a woman?”
“No doubt. She wore crimson armor, had long black hair, a large chest, and spoke a language we couldn’t understand.”
“Weapon?”
“A thrusting sword.”
A rapier—rarely used by demons in combat—was generally considered a weapon for the weak, even among humans.
Suppressing a growing sense of unease, Mamoré asked further:
“I heard she had three followers. What were they like?”
“All strong men. They fought using flails.”
“Flails? Not swords or axes?”
“No. Giant flails—massive.”
Mamoré’s dispatched troops were elite, even if not large in number. That they were defeated so easily by just four people meant those opponents were highly skilled.
Had it been the Hero, such a result might be understandable. But something didn’t add up.
Mamoré, known as an intellectual tactician in the strength-driven demon army, recalled his intelligence. The Hero seen at Myuronba had three greatsword-wielding warriors and two mages, one male and one female—not a female knight with a rapier and three flail-wielding men.
Moreover, the woman at Myuronba was famous for her silver hair, even called "The Silver-Haired Witch." This new knight had black hair—a different person.
Combining all this, Mamoré reached one conclusion:
This wasn’t the Hero—it was a new Hero candidate.
Though the report sent shockwaves through the demon army’s leadership, most secretly believed Mamoré was mistaken—that it was simply the Hero again.
But more unsettling news kept coming.
In Ezaru’aa, two male mages decimated the demon army.
In Upari, two knights clad in the armor of the Kingdom of Aritana crushed demon forces.
Each case described individuals completely unlike the Hero everyone thought they knew.
Anxiety spread among the generals.
Then, just two days later, General Gilberto Vieirozo reported to the king that a trio of spear-wielders—dressed so bizarrely it was almost embarrassing to watch—had performed remarkably in battle.
Now, it was clear.
Heroes—or fighters of equal power—had begun appearing all across the continent, waiting to intercept the demon army.
The generals’ unrest spread to the troops, then to the general populace. And as with any rumor, exaggerations followed:
“They say the old and new Heroes are leading a grand assault on the capital Ipetosuto.”
“No, it’s already begun—they’ve been deployed.”
“They plan to humiliate every man, woman, and child before butchering them—that was decided at the Kings' Council.”
“No, no—what was decided was slow execution by fire after the humiliation.”
“Actually, my source says…”
And so on.
Meanwhile, one man coldly watched the panic spreading from top to bottom.
After returning to his mansion just outside the capital, this man—Guarani—shared the latest intelligence with his aide:
“They say a Hero candidate has appeared in Samakai, too.”
His aide responded:
“I see.”
As usual, with a knowing smirk that mirrored his master’s. But this time, he added:
“Still… I must say, I’m surprised by how things have turned out.”
“Hmm?”
Guarani frowned at the unexpected comment.
“Are you saying you're surprised that Hero candidates have begun appearing all over?”
The aide shook his head emphatically and clarified:
“If many individuals truly appeared with the ability to defeat our warriors so one-sidedly, then our fate is already sealed. You should resign all official positions immediately and bribe a wyvern to ferry you to join the pirates. I’ll sell my house and bring my family to follow.”
“But since you’ve made no move to flee—and are even expanding your house—I assume you believe otherwise. So, what’s surprised you?”
“Only that the Hero would stoop to such cheap tricks.”
“Ah, I see.”
Guarani immediately understood the implication.
“So, you’re saying the Hero has chosen to act as a buffoon, sacrificing their fame as a warrior, just to engage in petty deception.”
“I’d say not petty, but extremely effective.”
Guarani burst out laughing and nodded.
“Judging by the generals’ panic, you’re right—it’s effective. Still, trickery is trickery. Anyone competent will see through it soon enough. But what’s the Hero’s reason for going this far?”
Though he already knew the answer, Guarani asked anyway.
And the aide replied, just as expected:
“The allied nations haven’t yet finished deploying defense forces to counter our raids on their old territories. This buys time.”
“Whether self-proclaimed or not, anyone bearing the title of Hero—even unofficially—has a duty to protect civilians. But as adventurers, they cannot be formally involved with military forces. So this is their compromise.”
Guarani nodded once more.
“In that case, we should take the opportunity to observe the Hero’s true fighting style—when all members are present. What do you suggest?”
“Only the true Hero appears in towns near Myuronba. If you want to see them in action…”
“Got it. If someone attacks one of those nearby towns, we’ll watch from a distance—just to enjoy the show.”
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