Prologue

"Angga? Where did you go?"

For some reason, there was no answer. Where did my best friend of 25 years disappear to?

"....Uuuh, cold... Wait, isn't Sidoarjo always hot? This is way too cold. Actually, I don't think Indonesia gets this cold anywhere."

I can't see my surroundings. I can only sense them through my ears, through the echo of sound bouncing back.

Is this a room? It doesn't seem too big. I can hear the breathing of several people—maybe ten? No, I think hundreds of them.

"...Is this what you summoned, oh Carrick Thorne, the Kingdom's Great Sorcerer? Why is he sitting in a wheelchair? Also, he seems to be blind."

That voice came from somewhere high up, heavy and echoing off the castle ceiling like the strike of an iron hammer. Every word was spoken with a carefully measured tempo—the kind belonging to a ruler accustomed to deciding the life and death of others. But listening closer, there was a thin, sharp catch of breath at the end of every sentence. That wasn't the voice of someone calm. It was the voice of an old man half-terrified of losing his throne. The highest authority here, either a commander or a king. Though a king seemed more likely, since he dared to criticize a Great Sorcerer whose rank equaled that of a commanding general.

Great Sorcerer? Is Indonesia some kind of magic country now? Ah, maybe that'd make sense for Kalimantan... No wait, wasn't I last in Java? A name like Kerik, Creak, Carr—whatever it was—that's not even an Indonesian name either.

"?! M-my apologies, Your Majesty, it seems there's been a mistake. Allow me to check the spell contained within the Final Artifact..." Flustered and nervous, the sorcerer scrambled toward something—maybe a table or a bookshelf, since I assumed the Final Artifact was some kind of book.

The thin, light sound of paper rustling reached my ears through the air. Then I heard a faint sound... what was that? I'd never heard it before. Like the sound of a pencil, but more like metal being scraped? I also heard something burning, yet without any scent at all, along with a humming sound—perhaps an incantation.

"...I-is this it?! D-don't tell me... Your Majesty Caldiz!" The Great Sorcerer, Carrick, held up the page from the Final Artifact. His voice sounded like it was trembling, as if trying to convince everyone he was worried and scared half to death. And yet, the frequency of that tremble was oddly stable? His heartbeat, too, seemed completely normal.

"What is it? What's wrong with— Good God?! Since when has part of the Final Artifact looked so wrong?!" His voice rose in pitch. The entire room of attendees immediately erupted into noise.

"Does Your Majesty recall, a few days ago, when we were attacked by three Dark Knights and a Dark Apostle?" Carrick asked.

"What about them?"

"Right after they ransacked the Forbidden Library, the Final Artifact was briefly exposed. I thought it was just a minor disturbance, since the seal on the Final Artifact was still intact."

"A few days ago, a rumor surfaced from our spies that the Dark Empire had succeeded in summoning The Dark Hero. It seems they managed to copy the Final Artifact, somehow altered its spell, and resealed it."

BANG! The sound of a fist slamming against a table rang out. "Didn't you already memorize the entire spell? It's a hundred pages long. Just fix it again. Simple."

"Your Majesty, the Final Artifact is a one-time spell. It was created as a doomsday protocol, and it cannot simply be remade at will. Creating a hero-summoning spell requires the sacrifice of a Great Sorcerer, and in this era, I am the only Great Sorcerer left. If I die, no one will be able to use whatever remains of the Final Artifact's spell."

The entire room fell silent.

"However, there is one way."

His breathing sounded ragged—why did he sound... excited?

"There's a possibility that the one we summoned is, in fact, The Dark Hero. If we manage to kill him, then we may be able to summon The Holy Hero instead."

"?! Kill him?!" The whole room broke into noise, but from their words, I could tell most of them agreed.

"Just kill him already. He's not one of us anyway."

"Right, right. It's even more dangerous if he's some vile demon."

"Besides, he's paralyzed and blind. What's the point of keeping him alive? Who wants to feed a burden like that? He's completely useless, especially now that we're at war with the Dark Empire."

Cold sweat began dripping down my face. You've got to be kidding me... Out of all my lives, this is how it ends?

"Hey! My name is Bayu, I'm clearly human, not a demon! I can't even use magic or anything like that!" I shouted as loud as I could.

"Prepare the guillotine. Judging by his name alone, he's not one of us. Carry it out!" ordered Emperor Caldiz. "Hey! W-wait—"

My body was yanked roughly from the wheelchair, then my head was placed onto a wooden board and locked shut so it couldn't move. A guillotine? What was that? It sounded terrifying. For some reason, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, as if I could sense death approaching.

Ah, if I really am going to face death, at least let me die next to the orphanage kids and my close friend, Angga.

What is death like? Is it dark, like what I usually feel? Does it hurt? Does it mean I'll finally be able to walk and run? And see the world around me?

Does dying mean my life finally becomes the same as everyone else's?

VROOM! Suddenly, everything went silent.

[ Quest: You are currently perceived as a cursed demon. Earn the sympathy of at least one person among the attendees who deeply hate demons. ]

[ Reward: ??? ]

Oh my goodness, whose voice was that?

This was where the turning point of everything began.