00. Not Every Hero Beats the Demon Lord

The hero continues his run through the forest, his long ears getting scratched by every twig he is too busy to dodge.

"That was way too close for comfort! Time to regroup with the others and rethink the attack strategy."

His plan to storm the castle at night had failed. Under the pale moonlight, he was desperately trying to get away from the army that he failed to cut down. No, he did cut them down, but that didn't stop more from rising.

With every breath, his wounds ached more and more.

"It must be poison. I have to get back to the camp as quickly as possible!"

But he couldn't show himself to his group while being followed by so many enemy soldiers. He had to find a way to get rid of them.

With no other option, the elf jumped between branches of the nearby trees. From there, he could assess the situation better.

Upon inspecting his surroundings, the situation seemed not completely hopeless.

"Don't underestimate the hero of the story!" he said as he jumped in the middle of a crowd of enemies, his daggers ready to end the pursuers.

In battle, his moves were closer to those of a dancer than those of a soldier. Every swing transitioned seamlessly into another. Ten enemies became five, five became three, and the last three were all cut down at once. Still, that was not enough.

The hero started running again. He knew that more soldiers would come. It had happened before and ruined his plans.

"What are you supposed to do at a time like this?" he asked himself.

He tried to connect with the voices that had guided his every move, but they had fallen silent. There had been no answer ever since his pride made him ignore their advice to build an army before acting.

"Whatever! I've come too far to stop! I've been through worse than this already. I don't need you to tell me what to do anymore!"

The site of his camp slowly came into view. There, what was left of his party would be enough to stand their ground until he could treat his wounds.

The poison in his blood was starting to affect his movement, but he had run enough. He'd made it to his friends.

"What... what is the meaning of this?"

The hero couldn't help but gasp at the sight in front of him. The party that was supposed to wait for his arrival was lying on the ground. The healer, the apprentice mage, and the cute girl he took with him everywhere—all of them were lined up near the dying fire.

The man ran to them, dirt from his steps putting out the barely holding on orange flame.

"Hey! Wake up! The enemy is coming! This is no time to sleep! Who's on guard duty? Hey!"

But nobody answered him. In fact, none of them were breathing anymore. Upon better inspection, he noticed the horrifying reason. All of them had a small hole in their clothes, surrounded by a red hue.

"Oh? So you do care about them? Or are you only scared that nobody is left to save you?"

Hearing the unknown voice, the hero grabbed his swords and readied himself, terror darkening his view as he tried to ignore the effects of the poison.

"Who are you? How did you get here? What did you do to them?"

"Now, don't ask so many questions all at once. In fact, what use is there in asking them? You didn't ask us anything when you sneaked in and tried to kill us."

"Stop speaking from the shadows like a coward! Show yourself!"

But before he could see the face of the enemy, the hero fell to the ground. The mark of the piercing shot that had taken out his friends could now also be seen on his chest.

As everything in front of him was getting darker, the hero noticed a shadow moving into his field of vision. But there was no use in trying to figure out their identity. The faint light of the moon and stars was not enough to shine on the being whose heart had already gone black.

"I swear... elves are such a pain..."

Those words were the last the hero heard before finally breathing his last.

*****

Somewhere nobody could see nor hear, the voices that should have saved the hero were speaking to each other.

"And so it continues..."

"One more... Choose again..."