"Who are we? Does it matter to someone who's already dead?"
Suddenly, dark mana burst out of the skull, making Orange Hair vomit—yet he remained calm, grinning, which shocked the soul within the skull. It hadn't expected someone this powerful to still exist in the current era.
"If you don't want to be devoured by the darkness, you'd better answer," he threatened.
His grin widened.
His right hand lifted forward, and in an instant, the soul stored inside the skull was pulled out, its neck caught in his grip—something that should have been impossible.
"Devoured by darkness?"
For the first time, the glitch on his face faded, revealing his right eye—an emerald green so beautiful, yet when looked into it deeper, held a bottomless, suffocating darkness that made the soul feel as if it were being pulled into it.
And that darkness—it was many times worse than what he had felt when facing the Demon King himself, who was supposed to be the embodiment of darkness.
"Do I still need to say who I am?" he asked again, letting the soul sink deeper into a lightless void. Letting it feel what true emptiness meant.
A world between life and death.
A realm where once a soul enters, it can never leave—forever buried within, tormented for eternity. A fate even worse than death.
The soul tried to escape, using what little power it had left—but it was futile. Its power was quickly drained by the darkness, leaving it as nothing more than a regular human—mana-less.
A form it never wanted.
A form it hated.
A form that had returned to it once again.
"S-stop! P-please! STOP!"
The two cultists from earlier rushed down the stairs upon hearing the plea, assuming something terrible had happened.
And they weren't wrong.
But it wasn't about them—it was about the soul of the first human hero, now squirming in his grasp, its eyes pitch black, face consumed by terror, anxiety, and despair.
"STOP! PLEASE! I DON'T WANT THIS! PLEASE, STOP!"
Just before the soul vanished completely, he yanked it back out, looking down at the figure in his grip—now resembling more of a lost soul than a once-revered hero.
So pitiful, so weak… and soon to vanish from the world entirely.
"So, is that the darkness you were talking about?" he asked, letting go of his grip, letting it drop to its knees, clutching its chest that heaved rapidly—even though it no longer needed to breathe.
The two cultists behind him bit down hard on their lips until blood trickled down, holding back any sound, not wanting to disturb him.
They knew all too well how terrifying the soul before them had once been—and had already tasted the darkness radiating from him.
But now, the soul looked shaken. In shock. Traumatized.
They didn't want to end up like that—or worse.
"W-who are you?" it asked—not with arrogance or pride, but carefully, with a soft, fearful tone.
"I already told you—it doesn't matter to someone who's already dead. All you need to do is answer. Why did the heroes from the other races agree to use the instrument? How did you convince them it would seal the Demon King? And why did you do it?"
"They didn't agree to it."
"Oh?"
"We killed them… then altered the memories of every race leader using the power of one of our own. After that, we wrote records stating that only the instrument could seal the Demon King. Though I assume by now you already know—it didn't seal him at all. It fused all the fragments of his soul to resurrect him."
"So… you succeeded in killing him?"
"Thanks to the heroes of every race, yes. Through great sacrifice and time. We managed to kill the Demon King… but before he fully faded, he split his soul into pieces. When that happened, his remaining soul visited me before falling into slumber. He promised that if the human race helped resurrect him, he would make us rulers of the world—no longer under the thumb of other races."
"That's why you also stole power from the other races to give to humans through the instrument, isn't it? That's also why the instrument was placed in the human capital instead of somewhere else."
He nodded in agreement.
"Is there another reason the instrument only works with pure mana?"
"Yes. The fact that it only works with pure mana is another lie. In truth, the instrument converts pure mana into dark mana for the Demon King to use. And the instrument was created based on his guidance."
A long sigh escaped his lips.
"So the human race was doomed from the start," he muttered, pitying their fate once all this came to light.
A fate they would inevitably face because of their ancestors. They had been living under one massive lie.
It was hard to imagine the other races offering forgiveness—especially after learning not only did the humans plan to resurrect the Demon King, they also stole power from them. Who knows what would happen to humanity now? He could only hope they'd survive.
Though the chances were slim.
Meanwhile, Orange Hair looked deeply troubled about their future, unsure whether to continue this path or follow the Great Mage's example. Especially after learning that the human hero had killed the heroes of the other races.
The fury this would bring… it made his body tremble. And even if they tried to resist, they knew—they had no right to.
Was this the real reason the Great Mage chose silence?
Yet as soon as that thought came, it vanished—when he punched himself hard in the face, blood trailing down from his mouth, shocking the two in front of him.
"I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again."
He didn't blame Orange Hair.
If he were part of this world, he'd be just as worried about the future of humanity. A great war was inevitable. Unavoidable.
No matter what they did, mankind would be judged for everything they had done.
The ancestors caused it.
Their descendants would suffer for it.
More or less, it was the same as his world.
Wherever you go, humans were always the root of it all—the chaos, the suffering.
And this time, the chaos was too great to bear.
"Have you ever thought that what you did back then… would affect everything now?"
Upon hearing his tone suddenly turn cold, the hero's soul trembled. He didn't want to feel that terrifying darkness again—the one that nearly imprisoned his soul. Yet at the same time, he had no good answer—only lies.
And surely, he'd know if it was a lie.
"W-we thought… everything would be fine. That it would all go smoothly."
"Should I just erase the human race from this world?" he muttered to himself, unable to see a way out.
Orange Hair rushed forward, dropping to his knees, begging for mercy. He couldn't imagine his beloved family dying because of their ancestors' foolishness.
"Please! Don't! Don't do that! I'll do anything to find another way! Just don't erase us from the world… don't erase my family…" he pleaded, voice trailing off at the end.
Again, a long sigh escaped him. He hadn't expected such a heavy burden to come with this power—the power that was supposed to give him freedom.
"Relax. I haven't made that my backup plan.. Yet. But at this point, there's only one path left besides resurrecting the Demon King. And I doubt you're going to like it."