"Meanwhile..."
Unreadable brown eyes scanned the bodies lying nearby.
"You killed a lot of people."
"..."
"I never thought you would actually kill the Emperor."
It looks like he became a hero at the right time.
The Emperor was an opponent that not even he could do anything about. Stigma looked at Deon with new eyes.
There was a time in the past when he was given the opportunity to spar with the Emperor. Of course, he happily accepted it.
He only had one spar with the Emperor, but he still remembered it because it was such an impressive spar.
His skills were so outstanding that it made him wonder if they were the same hero. The difference between them was only two steps, but Stigma knew very well how big a gap those two steps were for 'heroes' whose talents had already blossomed and matured. Still, the reason he didn't dare to be jealous was because he could clearly see the effort seeping into every movement.
Then.
How should he view 'Deon Hardt', who defeated him simply because he was a 'warrior'?
'...'
Stigma moved from where he had stopped and approached Deon, who was closely guarding himself. The closer he got, the more he frightened and sharpened his blade, but he stretched out his hand without hesitation. The hand that stretched out almost to touch the face stopped at a certain distance from the cheek.
"It's truly amazing. If you look closely, it doesn't seem like much has changed, but I just think it's beauty that isn't human. Is this something called aura?"
"..."
"Anyway."
A soft smile appeared on his face.
"Congratulations. You now have a force that no one can ignore."
"..."
Putting aside Deon Hardt's luck in becoming a hero and gaining overwhelming talent against odds lower than the odds of being struck by lightning, or his sentiments about the hero and the Demon King being on the same side, Stigma laughed.
"The fourth hero died and the third hero turned to the Demon King. Even the first hero died like this, so now it's my turn?"
"... Senior."
In the end, will he have to fight and kill again? Deon's shoulders felt tense.
Stigma, who confirmed that he was putting strength into the hand holding the dagger, calmly answered while looking at his dull red eyes.
"Yes, Junior. I'm sorry to make you nervous, but I want you to know that we don't have to fight. For me, fighting with my Junior now is just a dog's death with no benefit whatsoever."
"..."
"My Junior, you probably know that I am not fighting for the Empire or the Emperor."
Stigma fought for 'honor'. And not for the pure and noble 'honor' of self-satisfaction, but for the 'honor' to be seen and recognized by others.
"So there's no need to fight a life-or-death battle here with no one watching against an opponent I can't beat."
Of course, there was another purpose, which was to get permission to destroy the Lowfel family, but that was also not a reason to fight Deon Hardt here and now. The Emperor was dead and the Empire was collapsing. Why should he draw his sword when the person he needed to ask for permission and watch over had disappeared?
"I said this, but you're still keeping your head down."
"..."
His gaze was directed to the floor, as if he was watching or feeling bad about his own actions.
Stigma moved the hand that had been outstretched all along. The hand that was hovering near his face moved down and lightly touched his shoulder.
"Just raise your head. You achieved your goal, so I don't know why you keep your head down. This was absolutely your choice. Yes?"
"... Yes."
"Then quickly raise your head and straighten your shoulders. My Junior's actions now are disrespectful to the countless people who sacrificed themselves for this purpose and to my Junior himself. Act confidently. And–"
The hand rose again and removed the cigarette from his mouth.
"I would have said that it is not good to depend on drugs. No matter if you became a warrior, try to control yourself."
Cheeik. He smiled as he extinguished the fire by pressing it with his fingertips.
"This is my final advice as your Senior."
Final advice.
Deon, who was fiddling with his empty mouth, raised his head. Their eyes met and his lips opened impatiently as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't get the words out easily and they flinched a few times before closing again.
The words that came out again after a short silence contained a completely different topic.
"... Did you successfully eliminate the Barbai tribe?"
"Oh yeah. Thanks to you, I was able to eradicate it. Thank you."
"... When I think about it, you always hated the Barbai tribe."
As if he had a premonition of something, the conversation seemed to end and the words started again. Stigma quietly smiled as he could see that he was trying to continue the conversation somehow.
"Are you curious?"
"...."
"It may be a trivial reason for you, junior. They just..."
He hesitated reflexively, but that only lasted a moment.
This was the last time they would face each other peacefully like this, anyway. When would he ever speak honestly like this in his daily life where he was conscious of other people's opinions all day long for fear of his reputation being diminished?
Stigma, who made a quick decision, spoke while hiding his hesitation so naturally that no one could notice.
"... The only crime an illegitimate child can commit is invading the village that was the only place he cared about."
It's a very boring and obvious story.
It's a very common story that you've probably heard at least once, about a young illegitimate child who had nowhere to turn and managed to attach his heart to a peaceful and friendly village, but then barbarians invaded the place, setting fires, killing people, and wiping out everything.
Thanks to them, he had risen to this position through evil, so he should say thank you. Regardless, the feelings he had for them still remained.
"Anyway, it's all in the past."
There was also the reason why he spoke comfortably.
Since it was the past, it will not have much effect even if Deon Hardt went somewhere and talked about it.
His honor may be slightly diminished, but it would only be minimal, and her will build up greater honor than the honor you would lose. Rather, it could be an opportunity to let people know that Stigma's desire for revenge is so persistent and vicious that it can annihilate an entire tribe.
"Then let's stop at this point. You probably have work to do, and I also have to do mine."
"... Are you really... Just leaving?"
"Yes."
Since the person he needed to pay attention to was gone, he thought he'd start by taking care of the things he'd been putting off.
Stigma turned his back. He calmly showed his back to the warrior who may be his enemy and walked without regret.
Deon, who was staring at his back, spoke slowly.
"Can I see you again?"
"Well. If you continue on that path and don't break your stubbornness, we will meet again. It may not be a very good meeting."
Perhaps we will meet as enemies again.
He kept walking without looking back. Only after the gaze following behind him disappeared did Stigma stop in his tracks.
'...'
The words he had swallowed because there was no need to mention them came out belatedly.
"The elegance... was on his body."
The best thing to see was when they first met.
Perhaps because he had become a warrior, he had a more subdued aura than before, but the elegance that had become a habit remained.
Seeing that the humane demeanor he once had had disappeared, he felt like he ruined his Junior.
"I shouldn't have given you that advice."
Stigma smiled bitterly. Now that he had become a warrior, he did not have to worry about dignity or manners, and even before he became a warrior, Deon Hardt was a direct descendant of an orthodox noble family. He was a person who does not have to prove that he is a noble.
'It was enough for me to be obsessed with my attitude as a nobleman.'
His thoughts were short.
The foolish illegitimate son felt a sense of kinship with Deon Hardt in that he personally destroyed his family, but this was distorted and he perceived him as someone who had to struggle to be recognized just like him.
"My junior will be recognized in noble society even if he stays still."
As a leader of a squad of Murderous Knights, he became someone many people disliked, but his identity as a 'noble' was not denied. Because that's what birth is.
Deon Hardt was different from the illegitimate children who had to make every effort to enter aristocratic society.
'...'
He looked back at the attitude he had become accustomed to.
Even Duke Stave Illuster, who could be said to be a model of the current generation of nobles, was momentarily surprised by the archaic etiquette of the older generation.
Even without people's eyes, the body naturally moves to maintain its dignity. Stigma smiled faintly.
"... If you think about it, it was the same reason why force was considered important."
The reason he was able to enter aristocratic society was because of his overwhelming force as a 'hero'.
... So now he wanted to destroy his family with the most powerful weapon that could be recognized.
'I wouldn't feel strange if at least one family were wiped out in this mess.'
Let's think about what happens next.
He took the step he had stopped taking again. As if predicting the future, the blood-red sunset stretched a long shadow behind his back.
Just like that, Stigma suddenly disappeared.
It was a few days later that news of the Lowfel family's disaster spread.
***
I was convinced that Stigma had disappeared and hurriedly left the Imperial Palace, fearing that there would be another battle later.
I wondered what on earth the guys at the main gate were doing while the Imperial Palace was collapsing and people were arriving one after another.
'I don't know anything else, but the collapse of the Imperial Palace was such a big commotion that it could be seen from afar, so it would be impossible to not know.'
Still, if there's no good reason for not coming, I'd be a little... very annoyed.
Because of this, I went to the extreme of assuming that they had all been disabled by the enemy or that they had abandoned me and gone somewhere else, but the faces of those who came to the front gate looked completely fine, even though they were angry.
As soon as the guys who were restlessly pacing around the front gate saw me, they got angry and came towards me...
"Master Deon! As expected, you're safe!"
"We followed orders and waited until the end!"
"... Yeah... I told you to wait..."
"Yes, that's right!"
... It's disgusting.
Why do I see a second legion of crazy dogs among them?
"Actually, I almost made the mistake of running into the building when it collapsed, but thanks to the doctor, I was able to stay calm."
"Because there was no signal. Going in when there is no abnormal signals means that you lack trust in Deon."
"Long live Demon."
Who is the bastard who just said 'long live Demon'?
How far has the Demon Cult reached? And Ben, why are you so proud? I thought for a moment about where to start correcting, but then I changed my mind and looked at myself. At this point, I thought it wouldn't be strange to say that I had the ability to turn normal people into crazy people, so I checked...
"Master Deon?"
"... We're done."
I guess I'm tired. I see them thinking all sorts of things, even the most pointless ones.
When I think about it carefully, I think demons were originally like this. Is my mood different from before? I can't take my anger out on those annoying people just because I'm annoyed...
"Huh? I didn't hear you clearly."
"Good job."
"Oh, it's natural to follow orders!"
"..."
I slowly closed my eyes and opened them.
Yes, Ben's magic stone necklace was there, so he knew there was no problem with me and stayed where he was.
It's not a bad behavior and I knew it well in my head... but maybe it's because I'm so nervous, the way he answered was just annoying. Tsk.
"... Now that we've taken care of the big stuff, let's go back."
"Why don't you report it to the Demon King? If another order is given..."
"Now that the biggest obstacle has been taken down, the rest won't be difficult even without me. And..."
He probably wants to see me in person too.