October, Year 2174 of the New Calendar — the city of Val was attacked by demons.
The entire city was wiped out, with only a handful of people who had been outside the walls surviving the slaughter.
Thanks to the efforts of the Sword Saint, the professors of the Magic Association, and the local adventurers and nobles, all the demons responsible for massacring civilians were hunted down and executed.
Investigations into the demons' purpose, methods, and timing behind the Val invasion began immediately.
Although demon attacks had grown increasingly frequent in recent years, this was the first time a city so far from the border had been completely annihilated.
People were forced to confront a terrifying possibility — demons had already infiltrated deep into human territory.
Public pressure surged for more advanced detection magic, leaving the scholars responsible for updating spell models drenched in cold sweat… because they truly had no idea how demons were hiding among humans without being detected.
Anti-demon sentiment exploded, and recruitment numbers for the border armies skyrocketed.
The border generals had to publicly clarify that the frontier armies were a defensive force, not an offensive one — humans couldn't even survive the miasma of the Western Continent, so attacking demons was impossible in the first place.
In a sense, Doslepo really had caused a massive incident.
If he were still alive, his "score" would be absurdly high.
The destruction of a city should have been a tragedy worth mourning — the dead were still waiting for justice.
But the living needed comfort too.
After surviving such a mentally crushing battle, people desperately needed something to relax their minds and soothe their shaken spirits.
Thus, on the second day after the battle, a victory feast that would last through the night began in Beddford City.
The theme of the feast was simple:
Eat and Drink!
Ingredients from the gourmet zone and every tavern's precious liquor reserves were hauled out onto the streets.
In the central plaza, a massive bonfire roared, roasting creatures of absurd size. Their aroma drifted through the entire city.
Whole roast pigs and other foods requiring no preparation were even more plentiful.
The Bedford Family funded the majority of the event, with the rest donated by supportive merchants.
There were no grand decorations — only a few hired mages who conjured colorful floating orbs along the streets, and magical fireworks exploding overhead every now and then.
Count Charon called it "sending off the dead with fireworks."
Truthfully, holding a feast at such a delicate time was inappropriate.
Anyone could report the event to the king and get Charon into serious trouble.
But unlike his father Philip, Charon excelled in one thing — he clearly understood who kept the city alive and thriving.
Adventurers.
So even if someone tattled, he was determined to hold a feast and reward those who contributed the most.
Of course, he invited the Church of Holy Light and the Magic Association as well — though neither seemed in the mood to attend.
The streets were overflowing with noise.
People packed in shoulder to shoulder, some passed out hugging barrels of alcohol, others snoring loudly, and many singing wildly off-key.
Bards flooded the streets — wherever there was fire and food, there was music.
They plucked their fine or battered instruments and sang tales of heroes.
Someone had already written a song about the Battle of Val.
Although crude and hastily made, it still attracted the largest crowd. People always loved the newest stories.
Hmm? That bard looked familiar.
Wasn't he the one who made the ballad about Sein's rampage?
And the earlier one that had flattered Count Philip?
Inside a tavern overlooking the street, Drew leaned against the window, watching the crowds.
He downed a mug of beer — no reaction at all. Dwarves were born drinkers.
"What're you thinking about, brooding alone by the window?"
A heavily drunk Roger suddenly slung an arm around Drew's shoulders, nearly collapsing on top of him. His legs wobbled like jelly.
"Low-grade Healing," Drew muttered, slapping a spell onto him.
Roger instantly sobered up. He glared angrily.
"Hey—hey! The pinnacle of drinking is enjoying that gentle buzz, okay!?"
"That wasn't 'buzzed.' That was 'dead drunk.'"
Drew shot him a look of contempt.
"I was just thinking… why did the Association's professors come to a place like this? Shouldn't they be doing research?"
"Then go ask them," Roger waved him off. "Right now is relaxation time. No work talk."
"I asked already. They said someone discovered a new magical school in the Dungeon."
Roger froze mid-step.
"…Give me details."
After hearing the explanation, he nodded slowly.
"So it's that 'Magic' they used in Val. No wonder I've never seen anything like it."
"It's been ages since a new magic school was discovered. If that Magic is real, it's no surprise the Association's shaken up."
Roger completely forgot that he possessed Ambush Shard — which came from a similar origin.
He was too focused on monsters to care about magic theory.
"But I still don't get it," he said. "Those professors are so prideful. They just told you all that when you asked?"
"No. They called me over."
Drew ordered another beer.
"They said the information about Magic came from a stranger. They all came to the city to meet him — but now they can't find the guy. They asked if anyone here matches the description."
He chugged the beer in one gulp, then slammed the cup onto the window frame.
"And when I said I didn't know, those bastards threw me out! Hell! Just because they know a little more magic than me, they act like gods!"
Roger gave him a sympathetic look. So this wasn't some serious matter — Drew just wanted to vent.
Sometimes this old dwarf was unexpectedly entertaining.
"Exactly! Just a bit more magic and they act all high and mighty!" Roger slammed his cup onto the windowsill too.
They grinned at each other — united in shared frustration.
From behind them, the tavern waitress spoke gently:
"Gentlemen… if you break the glasses or the windowsill, you'll have to pay for them."
"…"
Roger tossed her a few silver coins.
She instantly wheeled over a cart full of empty glasses.
"Feel free to smash as many as you'd like!"
Ignoring her, Roger asked:
"So what's the deal with the Sword Saint? He really came all the way here for the Larva Tear?"
"Of course," Drew replied. "We got his training last time thanks to info about it. After so many days, it's no surprise he came personally."
Roger stroked his beard, wondering whether the Sword Saint or the Farron Undead Legion was stronger.
Could he use the Sword Saint's power to raid the mutated Sein Dungeon?
If he could squeeze into the Sword Saint's team as an assistant of some sort…
Maybe he could get his name etched onto the First-Clear Monument.
Maybe even leech some first-clear rewards.
And maybe ask the Sword Saint to help him beat monsters so he could throw Pokéballs at them?
…No, no.
There was no way a Sword Saint would indulge him like that.
He got so excited he accidentally yanked out a few beard hairs.
"You idiot, why are you pulling my beard!?"
Drew immediately chased him, fists swinging.
The tavern erupted with laughter.
---
Outside the city, atop a raised hill, a wolf pack howled at the full moon — tempted by how delicious it looked.
Darrick lay on the grass, staring blankly at the night sky.
This condition was known as post-revenge emptiness syndrome — when someone who had dedicated their entire life to revenge suddenly achieved it, leaving them unsure how to keep living.
Challenge the Farron Undead Legion next?
Impossible.
His Farron Greatsword had been tossed to him out of pity — maybe acknowledging his persistence, or maybe because they were simply tired of him.
Just thinking about going back made him feel embarrassed.
The city was lively, but wolves weren't allowed inside, so he stayed outside with his old companions.
No one realized he was the one who killed Doslepo.
He didn't brag about it either.
Even now, people assumed Doslepo had escaped.
Staying hidden wasn't so bad.
A stray magical firework misfired, exploding outside the city in a burst of color.
Darrick's gaze drifted southwest — toward Val. A single road connected the two cities.
No carriages would be coming from that direction for a long time.
Val was gone — its buildings assimilated into flesh monsters that crumbled when they died.
The survivors had lost their homes.
Their families' bodies had disappeared.
They were surely sobbing somewhere right now.
Darrick clenched his fists.
All of this was the demons' fault.
If demons never existed…
Wait.
Why couldn't demons be eradicated?
What if someone built a military force dedicated solely to exterminating demons?
What if that force pushed them all the way to extinction?
And what if…
Why couldn't he be that person?
His thoughts raced. Possibilities flashed through his mind.
He rolled over—
And locked eyes with a pair of wide, sparkling eyes.
"Wah!!"
Darrick shot upright.
The wolves panicked with him — one even bit its own tongue.
"You—you—!" Darrick pointed at the girl. "When did you get here!?"
"Ehehe." Maru stuck out her tongue. "I finally found you."
"…Found me? What for?" Darrick asked blankly.
"To visit our big hero, of course."
Hero? What hero?
Maru suddenly pulled out a recording stone.
With a little mana, an image projected into the air.
It showed a man howling like a wolf while fighting a demonic foe.
The angle perfectly captured the entire scene — the battle looked dramatically cool.
Darrick froze.
The wolf-howling man looked more and more familiar.
"Wh—where did you get this…?" he asked, stunned.
"No idea. But it's already spread through the whole city!"
The whole city!?
Darrick felt lightning crash through his skull.
Maru patted his shoulder, eyes full of envy.
"You're going to be famous, kid."