Prologue 2: The Failed Hero

Prologue 2: The Failed Hero

Horus was dying.

The goddess of light had abandoned the world.

In the past, whenever a demon king rose, the goddess Lumira blessed a hero with the power of light. That hero stood against the demonic tide and, without fail, the demon king was defeated.

But this time was different. This time, no savior had appeared.

Apollon, the unstoppable demon king, had reigned for ten long years. No demon king in history had ever rivaled his might; nation after nation was torched by his armies, and now, more than ninety percent of Horus lay in ruin. And though the Church had prophesied that a hero of light would rise again, no such figure had come forth.

—

Alexius

—

My name was Alexius. Once, I had thought that prophecy was about me.

Five years ago, when I was sixteen, I thought that I was chosen by destiny when I discovered that I had some skill with the sword. I was able to easily beat slimes and goblins in combat, and I was filled with pride.

I thought, if no hero had appeared yet, then perhaps I was the one destined to save the world.

That thought ended in the goblin den.

At first, the goblins were easy prey, mobs, pathetic creatures for me to trample on. I hunted down one after another before he appeared: a massive orc towering at over three meters tall. He carried a stone club as though it were a feather.

With one fierce swing, my sword shattered into oblivion along with my dreams. My leg froze, and my lungs seized. I could only stare up in horror as I continued to clutch that broken sword, waiting for my death.

And then it happened. A blinding flash of light exploded in the dark cave. For an instant, the cave shone like daylight, and the orc roared in pain, staggering back. In that moment of chaos, my body moved on instinct, and I forced my shaking legs to run with all my might.

Panting and gasping for air, I somehow managed to run into the safety of the city walls.

The skin of my palm was torn from gripping the sword so tightly. Blood seeped between my fingers, mixing with the sweat until I could hardly tell them apart. But I could barely care about the pain with the adrenaline coursing through my system.

Even today, I still had no idea what that light was. A miracle, a hallucination? Or perhaps even the goddess herself, taunting me with a false sense of hope.

The church preached that the hero wielded the power of light and would vanquish the darkness with holy powers. If that’s true, then maybe, just maybe…

Yeah… No. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t even defeat an orc and had to desperately flee to escape with my life. On that day, I stopped being an adventurer, and I stopped dreaming of being a hero. I became another bystander, waiting for the world to end.

Maybe, if I had actually committed to being an adventurer and formed a party, things might have been different. I could’ve gotten stronger and wouldn’t be as useless as I am now. But everything is too late, and I only have myself to blame.

Now, I was just another conscripted guard fighting for the Valoria Kingdom in the capital city, Arcanum, fighting only because I am too much of a coward to desert. The prophecy was never about me, and Horus would die.

Boom!

I heard an explosion rock the walls along with the screams of my fellow guards dying. Even the capital, once hailed as the fortress of humanity, is doomed. Alarm bells rang across the city as the demon king’s army launched another assault.

There was no dogged resistance or a desperate grasp for victory. Those men have perished long ago. What remained in the city was a ragtag force of poorly trained guards, desperate to survive.

Humanity’s unified resistance had long crumbled. The surviving countries were too busy defending their own cities to lend any help to Valoria.

I looked down from the walls and finally saw what I dreaded the most: a breach. Demons poured into the city like a torrent of water.

"Aaaaarghhhhhh!" A high-pitched scream came from behind.

I frantically turned around and witnessed a gruesome scene of a guard getting mutilated by a wyvern.

Wiping the sweat on my forehead, I turned to face the wyvern whose deafening roar rattled my very existence. I gripped my sword tighter.

The first strike came as fast as lightning. Claws, as sharp as a knife, swiped down toward my head, and I threw myself sideways, barely dodging them.

Then came a tail whip aimed at shattering my torso. Bracing my arms, I barely blocked that attack. However, the momentum knocked me off balance, and I stumbled backwards. The next strike came without warning. I felt a searing hot sensation in my left arm before it was violently ripped away by the wyvern’s teeth.

"Gaaaaah!"

My mouth opened unconsciously, and a scream escaped. Blood spurted out of what was once my left arm, and my vision blurred. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I wanted to rally and fight, but there was only one instinct left: survival.

The metallic smell of my blood made me gag, but I continued running. Clutching the stump on my left arm, I shoved other panicking guards aside as I fled toward the city’s citadel, trying to escape this nightmare. The streets were filled with chaos, flames, and cadavers, and I quickly darted into a narrow alley, hoping to lose the wyvern.

And then I froze. There stood Apollon. Taller, darker, and more terrible than anything the rumors had described. His eyes gazed at me as if I were an insect.

In a low, bellowing voice, he spoke,

“Pathetic. You are not even worth killing.”

Before I could register the words, a blade of unimaginable speed sent my head spinning. The world swirled around me in a nauseating blur. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my head, and gravity seemed to vanish for a second. Then, I saw my headless body hit the floor with a thud, and everything went dark.

The next thing I knew, I was back in my sixteen-year-old body.

(Map of Horus: https://inkarnate.com/m/2oqWK0)

~ End of chapter ~