The Night Hope Died

The battlefield of Vermillion Abyss had long ceased to resemble land.

Mountains of corpses stretched farther than the eye could see. Demonic beasts the size of houses lay split open, their black blood steaming beneath the crimson moon. Broken shields, shattered staffs, severed limbs, and half-buried swords littered the earth like forgotten relics of men who would never return home.

Ash drifted silently through the sky. And in the center of that ruined world...

Something monstrous breathed.

A single exhale from it made the earth tremble.

A second forced the remaining soldiers hundreds of meters away to their knees.

And a third...

Made even veteran knights forget how to breathe.

Valthor

The Demon King.

Nearly four meters tall, his body was covered in obsidian-black armor that seemed grown from flesh rather than forged by metal. Six jagged horns curved backward from his skull, while molten crimson cracks pulsed beneath his skin like rivers of lava.

Each movement radiated enough mana to warp the air itself. In his right hand rested a massive black greatsword.

And within his golden eyes—

Only hatred.

“Humans…”

His voice alone shattered the broken spears scattered across the battlefield.

“You have crawled this far... only to die.”

And yet—

Five figures stood before him.

Not retreating.

Not trembling.

Only watching.

At the center stood Leonhart Vale.

Seventeen years old.

Golden hair fluttered in the bloodstained wind, and beneath strands matted with sweat, golden eyes burned with unwavering resolve.

His silver armor was cracked.

His cape torn.

Blood dripped from his fingertips.

But even exhausted...

He still stood straight.

As if the word defeat had never existed for him.

In his hand rested Dawnbreaker, the holy sword chosen by heaven itself.

Mana flowed naturally around him—

As if the world itself wished to lend him strength.

Beside him stood a young man who seemed to belong to an entirely different world.

Kael Jin

Eighteen years old.

Long black hair reached his shoulders, swaying quietly in the wind like dark silk.

His face was calm.

Too calm.

But his eyes—

Deep red eyes that seemed almost inhuman—watched the Demon King like a dragon studying its prey.

In his hand rested a long black sword with elegant eastern craftsmanship, its blade slender yet unnaturally sharp.

A weapon unlike anything found in the western kingdoms.

Black Heaven.

Unlike everyone else—

Kael possessed no mana.

No class.

No blessing.

Instead...

He wielded something forgotten by most of the world.

"Qi"

A force cultivated through blood, bone, breath, and will.

Not gifted.

Not inherited.

Earned through suffering.

Behind them stood the rest of the Hero Party.

Cedric Thorne, draped in navy robes embroidered with ancient runes, adjusted the thin glasses resting on his nose. Beneath his calm blue eyes lay a mind feared even by generals—the youngest Sage in recorded history.

“Leonhart,” he said calmly. “Try not to die before I’m done calculating.”

Beside him stood Gareth Crowne, a giant of a man nearly two meters tall. Golden armor covered his scarred body, a massive tower shield in one hand, while a sword and spear rested across his back.

He laughed loudly.

“Ha! If anyone’s dying today, it’s that ugly bastard.”

Near the shadows stood Seris Valeheart. Silver hair tied behind her, twin daggers spinning between her fingers as naturally as breathing.

“Less talking,” she muttered. “More killing.” And before anyone could blink—

She vanished.

At the rear stood Lyra Virel, white robes stained with battle, silver hair dancing behind her as divine light gathered softly at her fingertips.

“Come back alive,” she said gently.

Leonhart smiled.

“Always.”

Then he turned toward Kael.

“Same plan?”

Kael lowered his stance. A faint crimson aura leaked from his body as the stones beneath his feet cracked.

He nodded once.

Leonhart grinned.

“That’s enough.”

Then—

The Hero Party moved.

Valthor swung first.

His black greatsword descended like a collapsing mountain.

“MOVE!” Leonhart shouted.

BOOM—

The blade struck earth, sending chunks of rock the size of houses flying into the air.

But Leonhart was already moving.

Golden mana exploded beneath his feet as he dashed through the smoke.

“Kael!”

Kael disappeared.

Not fast—

Gone.

A sonic boom tore through the battlefield.

Void Step

He reappeared above Valthor.

His blade moved once.

No wasted motion.

No flourish.

Only perfection.

Heaven Splitting Draw

SHHHK—

Black steel carved through the Demon King’s shoulder. Molten blood sprayed into the air. Valthor roared.

“You insect—!”

Then—

Ice spears erupted from below.

Cedric’s voice echoed.

“Eyes up.”

CRACK—

Seven massive spears slammed into Valthor’s side, forcing him to stagger. Seris appeared behind him. Her daggers flashed.

One.

Two.

Five.

Ten cuts opened across the Demon King’s legs before she vanished again. Gareth charged next.

“COME HERE!”

BOOM—

His shield slammed into Valthor’s chest like a battering ram. The Demon King staggered. And Leonhart smiled.

“Now.”

Golden mana flooded his sword.

For a moment...

The battlefield looked as though dawn itself had arrived.

Solar Judgment

Leonhart leapt—

And drove Dawnbreaker straight through Valthor’s chest.

Silence.

Then—

The Demon King screamed. Light consumed him. And at last...

Valthor fell.

The war...

was over

Or so they thought.

Leonhart let out a tired laugh.

“We... actually did it.”

For the first time in hours, Kael’s sword lowered. Then—

He felt it. Something was wrong. The air... Had changed. And when Leonhart turned—

Cedric was already raising his staff.

The battle...

Hadn’t ended.

It had only just begun.

Cedric’s staff glowed with cold blue light.

Before Leonhart could even process what was happening, layers of magic circles expanded beneath his feet. One after another, runes rotated in perfect synchronization until chains of condensed mana erupted from the ground and wrapped tightly around his arms, chest, and legs. Leonhart’s golden eyes widened as the mana around his body began flickering violently under the suppression.

“…Cedric?”

The Hero’s voice was quiet—not angry, not yet. Only confused.

Cedric calmly adjusted his glasses, his expression completely devoid of guilt. “Do you know how many centuries scholars have spent trying to understand mana itself?” Another magic circle formed beneath Leonhart’s feet, then another, each one increasing the pressure on his body. Cedric’s blue eyes gleamed with obsession. “A body blessed by mana from birth… a human capable of bending mana beyond common logic…” A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Your corpse alone could advance magical civilization by hundreds of years.”

Leonhart’s expression froze. “…You want to dissect me?” Cedric smiled. “I want to understand you.”

Kael moved instantly, but before he could take more than two steps, blue chains erupted beneath him as well. Mana restraints wrapped around his wrists, ankles, waist, and shoulders, halting his movement mid-step. Cedric glanced toward him, pushing his glasses upward. “And you, Kael… a man with no mana, no class… yet able to stand beside the Hero.” His smile deepened. “You fascinate me almost as much.”

Kael pulled against the restraints once. The chains groaned—but held.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the ruined battlefield. Gareth stepped forward, resting his tower shield against the ground before pulling the spear from his back. The carefree laughter from earlier was gone. In its place was a twisted sneer.

“You know what pisses me off the most, Leonhart?” Gareth’s voice was low and bitter. “No matter what I did… no matter how many monsters I killed…” He pointed the spear toward the Hero. “The women always looked at you.”

His grip tightened.

“The glory. The fame. The admiration. All of it…” His lips curled upward. “Went to you.”

He lowered his spear.

“So I figured… if the Hero dies…” His smile widened. “The strongest man left standing would be me.”

A faint laugh echoed from the shadows. Seris stepped out, lazily spinning her dagger between her fingers. Her expression remained as indifferent as ever.

“I honestly don’t care.” Her violet eyes shifted toward Leonhart. “My orders were simple.” A faint smile formed on her lips. “Eliminate the Hero.”

Leonhart frowned. “…Orders?”

Seris shrugged. “The Church pays well.” Her dagger stopped spinning. “And I like money.”

Soft footsteps followed.

Lyra stepped forward, her silver hair dancing softly in the bloodstained wind. Her smile remained beautiful.

But her eyes—

Were empty.

“The Demon King is dead,” she said gently. “And a Hero who no longer serves a purpose…” Divine light slowly gathered around her sword. “…Becomes more dangerous than any demon.”

Leonhart stared at her. Of all the betrayals…

That one hurt the most.

“…So all of it…”

His voice trembled.

“…Was fake?”

Lyra didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Kael pulled against his restraints again. The chains creaked violently. His red eyes trembled—not with fear, but with rage.

They had planned this from the beginning. Kill Leonhart first. Then kill him. Because between the two of them… Leonhart’s kindness made him the easier target.

And Kael—

Was the harder monster to kill.

Then Gareth moved.

The spear pierced straight through Leonhart’s stomach. Leonhart’s body jerked violently as blood spilled from his lips. Kael’s pupils shrank.

Then Seris vanished.

A moment later, her dagger buried itself deep into Leonhart’s side from behind. The Hero coughed violently, blood staining his armor. Before he could recover, Gareth switched weapons, drawing his sword and driving it straight through Leonhart’s lung.

Blood poured onto the battlefield.

And finally—

Lyra stepped forward.

Her blade glowed with holy light as she stood directly before him. Leonhart looked into her eyes. Still hoping. Still believing. Lyra smiled. And drove her sword into his heart.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Kael stopped struggling. Stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. Blood dripped from Leonhart’s body.

One drop.

Then another.

And then—

Crack.

A tiny sound. Yet everyone heard it. Cedric frowned. “…What?”

The restraints around Kael began to break. One by one.

Crack.

Crack.

CRACK.

A crimson aura erupted from Kael’s body like a dragon awakening. The ground beneath him shattered. The air itself grew heavy as his long black hair rose violently with the pressure.

When Kael slowly raised his head—

His eyes were no longer red.

They had turned crimson.

For the first time… The traitors understood. They had not restrained a man. They had restrained a monster.

“…You’re all dead.”

Kael vanished.

The earth behind him exploded as he appeared directly in front of Gareth. Black Heaven moved once.

A single draw.

A single strike.

Blood sprayed through the air as Gareth barely managed to raise his shield before the impact launched him across the battlefield like a broken doll, crashing through pillars before collapsing into rubble.

Cedric reacted immediately, summoning gravity magic powerful enough to crush stone into dust.

But Kael kept walking.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Cedric’s face turned pale. “…Impossible.”

Then Kael disappeared.

A fist slammed into Cedric’s stomach hard enough to make him cough blood before his body was thrown violently across the battlefield.

Seris attacked next from his blind spot.

Her dagger aimed straight for his neck. Kael caught her wrist mid-strike. Bone cracked. Before she could scream, his knee drove into her stomach, sending her skidding across the battlefield.

Then Kael turned toward Lyra.

For the first time—

Fear appeared in her eyes.

“LYRA!” Cedric screamed. “USE IT!”

Lyra clenched her teeth and raised both hands toward the heavens.

A trump card originally meant for the Demon King… Was now turned against Kael.

The sky split apart.

Golden light descended from above as three colossal winged figures emerged from the heavens.

Angels.

Before Kael could fully react, a spear of divine light pierced through his shoulder. Another angel carved across his ribs. The third descended like judgment itself, smashing him into the ground.

Blood spilled from Kael’s lips. But he still stood. His killing intent had only grown stronger.

Then—

He looked toward Leonhart.

That was enough.

Without hesitation, Kael grabbed Leonhart’s body and placed him across his back before vanishing into the night.

For hours he ran. Through forests. Across rivers. Over mountains. Every step left blood behind.

Until finally—

A cliff.

A dead end.

Kael stopped. His breathing was ragged. Blood dripped from his wounds as he slowly turned.

The traitors stood behind him. Weapons raised. Blocking every escape. And on his back—

Leonhart smiled weakly.

At that moment, there was a truth only Kael knew. A truth hidden from the world. Even from his closest companions.

Beneath Leonhart’s blessing of mana—

The Hero possessed a second innate skill.

Second Chance.

A skill that should never exist. A skill capable of resurrecting its owner after death.

Maybe in months.

Maybe in years.

Maybe even decades.

No one knew when.

But it would happen.

Eventually.

Leonhart slowly placed his bloodstained hand on Kael’s shoulder. “…Kael.”

Kael’s body trembled. “…Don’t.”

Leonhart smiled. Warm. Bright. The same as always.

Then he whispered—

> “Wait for my return.”

And before Kael could react—

Leonhart pushed him off the cliff. Kael’s eyes widened. “LEONHART—!” The world disappeared.

Sky.

Wind.

Darkness.

And the last thing Kael saw… Was his hero. Sitting alone at the edge of the cliff. Surrounded by traitors. Smiling. Waiting for his death.

After that night, history would remember Kael Jin as the man who murdered the Hero.

But history lied.

Because on that night—

The only one who never betrayed him…

Was the one who disappeared.

And from that day onward—

Kael Jin lived for one purpose. To prepare for the day his hero returns.

And this time… They won’t be the ones saving the world.

They’ll become its adversaries.

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