So… judging by their reactions, I guess they know what I’m talking about?
According to the memories of past Saints, the last time a Demon King appeared was around three hundred years ago. At that time, the continent was home to dozens of nations, many of which were destroyed by the Demon King. The corruption that spread across the continent was so severe that countries without Saints perished one by one.
Some countries managed to avoid destruction by accepting the protection of Saints from neighboring nations, but now, only ten countries remain on the continent.
The size of each nation today corresponds to the strength of the Saint who once protected it. Fortunately—or unfortunately—this country is the largest on the continent.
That’s probably why the lineage of Saints here has never been broken. But it’s also why the effort to cleanse the land of corruption has never kept up. If the country were smaller, things would’ve been much easier.
The Demon King typically invades using two main strategies.
The first is the assassination of the Saint. Only a Saint or a Hero blessed by a Saint can defeat the Demon King, and since Saints are also key to cleansing corruption, targeting them is the quickest route to victory. Even if a new Saint is born after one is killed, there’s still a window where the Demon King can wreak havoc without opposition. The negative emotions of people turn into more corruption, which only strengthens the Demon King, widening the gap between their power and ours. Eventually, the nation falls.
If killing the Saint proves too difficult, the Demon King resorts to a second strategy—triggering a mass stampede of magical beasts. Normally, this happens when corruption reaches a certain threshold, but the Demon King can intentionally cause it, as all magical beasts essentially serve under him.
But the Demon King’s power in either case depends on their own strength. Whether or not they have levels or magic power like we do, I’m not sure, but their strength is said to grow with the density of corruption and the length of time they’ve been around.
Looking at the current state of our country, while we’ve been gradually cleansing the land since I became the Saint, there are still many areas with severe corruption… So the conditions for the Demon King’s emergence are unfortunately present.
I don’t know how long the Demon King has been around, but when I saw him that day, he still appeared as a child. His physique was similar to that of a twelve-year-old human, meaning he hadn’t fully grown yet.
The fact that he only fired a single arrow and didn’t follow up, as well as his use of poison, suggests his power is still weak. The cleansing and blessings I spread across the capital likely diminished his strength as well. Right now, he’s probably lurking in the more corrupted areas, recharging his power.
If we can speed up the cleansing of the land, there’s a good chance we’ll be able to defeat him.
…At least, that’s what I think. I’m not completely sure.
“A Demon King… You can’t be serious…”
“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what we’re dealing with. He hasn’t fully matured yet, but he’s not someone we can take lightly. No one even sensed his presence that day, right?”
The knights before me are among the most elite in the country, but even they couldn’t detect the Demon King’s movements. I only noticed him by sheer luck.
If I hadn’t blessed the entire capital that day, I might’ve realized too late. Emilia might not have survived.
The Demon King is that dangerous.
If one of the knights encounters him when I’m not around, there will definitely be casualties.
“I’m not blaming you. That’s just how the Demon King is. Without a Saint or a Hero, he’s unbeatable. If you try to fight him unprepared, you’ll only make things worse. Right now, we need to focus on cleansing the corruption. So, don’t bother searching for him.”
At least for now, anyway.
We’ll have to face him eventually, but there’s an order to these things.
First, we need to purify the land. Before I arrived, the country was shrouded in the darkness of a moonless night. Now, it’s like the sky before dawn. The darkness is lifting.
We need to cleanse as much as we can, weakening the Demon King’s power before confronting him.
And we’ll also need to fortify our defenses here. There’s been no follow-up attack since that day, but we don’t know when he’ll strike again.
If I’m his target, that’s fine. But there’s a chance he still believes Emilia is the Saint.
To be able to leave here without worry, we must strengthen the defenses.
“Which is why I’ll be heading to the White Room to—”
“No, you won’t.”
Damn, I figured that’d be the answer.
I averted my gaze from Veerant’s stern glare, shrugging lightly.
If only I could use healing magic on myself, I could get rid of these wounds in no time.
✢ ✢ ✢
It took another three days before I was finally allowed out of bed.
The wound on my back had mostly healed, and walking wasn’t an issue. But even so, they didn’t let me resume practicing with my bow.
I’d hoped to get some training in, knowing that once we set out on our journey, we’d likely face magical beasts and the Demon King. I’m confident enough in my archery skills to want to keep them sharp. Oh well. I guess I’ll wait until I’m fully recovered.
The first thing I did once I could move again was fortify the temple’s defenses. Specifically, I obsessively cleansed every inch of the temple.
The process was the same as when I cleansed the village. I planted branches of the Sacred Tree at each of the temple’s five corners and offered my blood as I recited the sacred words. I did the same for the inner sanctum, where Emilia resides.
After pouring every ounce of my holy power into the ritual, the temple became the most purified space imaginable. With this, the Demon King shouldn’t even be able to approach.
Once the temple was secured, it was time to focus on purifying the rest of the country.
The more ground we cleanse, the weaker the Demon King becomes.
I couldn’t push myself too hard with my back still healing, but there was no time to rest.
Cleansing, receiving treatment for my wounds, resting… It was a repetitive cycle, and before I knew it, the seasons had changed again.
✢ ✢ ✢
Veerant had arrived at my village in the winter, the public unveiling was in the spring, and now summer was nearing its end.
Even in the evening, the sunlight was still harsh, beating down on my skin as I focused on a distant target.
The bow and arrows I held were standard issue for the knights, but they were of far higher quality than anything I’d used in the village. My arrows flew into the targets with remarkable ease.
I’d lost some muscle from all the time spent lying around recovering, but it seemed my archery skills hadn’t dulled too much.
At least I won’t be a burden if we run into magical beasts.
“You’re really good at that,” Veerant remarked.
“It’s nothing special. Anyone can hit a stationary target.”
“Is that so?”
He tilted his head curiously. It seemed that, like most knights, Veerant wasn’t particularly skilled with a bow.
The job of the Saint’s knights, as well as the temple guards, was to protect. Their main focus was swordsmanship, with magic as backup.
Using a bow in urban areas wasn’t practical, and even if you were good with one, there wasn’t much opportunity to use it.
Magic was a far more effective long-range option.
“Zeff, do you…”
“Hm?”
Veerant waited until we were alone to speak, so I continued practicing while urging him to go on.
I’d noticed for a while now that he seemed troubled.
During the purification rituals and even when I was unconscious, he’d often looked like he had something on his mind.
His finely shaped brows would furrow with worry, and his lips would press into a tight line.
I had a feeling something was weighing heavily on him, but I wasn’t about to pry.
I figured he’d talk when he was ready, and now, it seemed he finally was.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him staring intently at the Sacred Tree, his hands clenched into fists.
“Don’t you ever want to go back?” he asked quietly.
“Huh?”
“Back to that village. You were happy there, weren’t you? No one threatening your life, no exhausting rituals… You were living peacefully, without a care in the world. Every time I think of that, I wonder… if this was the right path.”
Veerant’s words struck a chord, and I slowly lowered my bow.
He wasn’t wrong.
If he hadn’t come to the village that day—if I hadn’t been discovered as the Saint—I would still be there now.
I would’ve spent my days farming, hunting, and eventually, I would’ve been laid to rest in that village.
I would’ve lived a quiet, uneventful life, bound to nothing and no one, and died alone.
On the other hand, my current life… well, there’s no denying it’s tough.
There are a lot of restrictions, and it’s definitely more inconvenient.
I can’t go anywhere without someone accompanying me, and I rarely get time to myself.
It’s a far cry from the life I used to know.
—But would I want to go back?
In that poor, remote village, everyone helped each other to survive.
The strong worked the fields, and the even stronger went hunting. In autumn, the entire village would prepare for winter together, and in spring, we’d celebrate its arrival.
Maybe it’s because of that upbringing that I feel the way I do.
Those who can, do what they can.
That was just common sense, and I never thought to question it.
Just like how I, who was strong and healthy, took the lead on hunts in the village, as the Saint, it’s my duty to protect this country.
If it’s something only I can do, then it’s only natural that I give it my all.
It’s as simple as that.
Veerant doesn’t need to feel guilty about it.
There’s no reason for him to look so troubled.
“I’m not sure how to explain it, but…”
“…”
“If me working hard means everyone else can live peacefully, then isn’t that worth it?”
Even if I abandoned this country and returned to the village, I’d never be able to live the way I used to.
Turning my back on my duty wouldn’t bring me happiness.
So, I’ll just keep doing what I can.
After all, this corruption wouldn’t have gotten so bad if I hadn’t stayed hidden for so long.
If I’d had my status evaluated when I was fifteen, I would’ve become the Saint twenty-seven years ago.
We would’ve cleansed far more of the corruption, and the Demon King never would’ve appeared.
It’s too late to change the past, but at least now, I can make up for it.
“You… really are…” Veerant murmured, his face twisting with emotion.
His golden hair shimmered softly in the fading sunlight, casting a gentle glow on his profile.
I waited for him to continue, but Veerant said nothing more.
He simply stared off into the distance, lips pressed into a tight line.
