There had been a core condition in the DLC [Professor of the Heroic Path]—something my assistant Ran once mentioned.

The Hero must draw the Holy Sword, and slay the Demon King.

...This was a rule that could never be broken. No loopholes. No exceptions.

So when Glory was flung to the ground, system windows popped up, and he slowly pushed himself up...

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind.

The cause was: “Murder experience”?

Then... could Glory draw the sword if he committed another murder?

...Stupidly, that thought crossed my mind.

Because if not, it meant he could never wield the sword again—because of a past sin.

What kind of {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} game does that?

“No.”

But really—if murder was the requirement for qualifying, that didn’t make sense. Not even a little.

He’s supposed to be a Hero.

A Hero saves the world. A Hero gives people hope.

Which means: a Hero must not kill. And Glory already had.

Meaning—by killing someone in his past, he had already lost the right to draw the Holy Sword.

“......”

I’m the type who adapts quickly. Even when I was diagnosed with cancer, I didn’t go into denial.

Now I understand.

There wasn’t a trace of despair or defeat on Glory’s face as he looked up.

He was calm. As if he’d known this would happen all along.

“You bastard.”

I grabbed him by the hair, dragged him across the dirt, and threw him into a nearby patch of forest.

Thud!

Glory collapsed without resistance.

“You knew,” I growled, my voice shaking with fury. “You knew you couldn’t draw the sword.”

“You knew from the beginning, didn’t you? From the moment we came to Goldenfield. From the auction on the Eternity. From even before that, when you killed someone. You already knew you could never touch that sword. Didn’t you?!”

Glory raised his sorrowful blue eyes toward me.

“...What were you expecting?”

“Expecting?! You crazy f**ker. And yet you kept yapping about the Holy Sword like it was nothing?”

I kicked him in the head.

Thwack!

Then kept stomping him.

Even as his head turned, even as I crushed him again and again, Glory didn’t resist. He flopped like a broken marionette.

I grabbed his collar, slammed him into a tree, and snarled:

“Tell me. Who was it? Who did you kill?”

“......”

“Say it, you piece of shit! WHO WAS IT?!”

“......”

Even as my foot pressed down on his throat, Glory didn’t struggle. His melancholy blue eyes were unfocused.

“...Does it matter? If it was someone specific? If there was a reason? Would it be any different?”

And then—he smirked.

“I already killed them...”

It was like getting hit in the head with a hammer.

My grip on his collar slackened. He slumped to the ground.

That’s when Adele Mouin ran over, screaming, “What are you doing!? Why are you beating a kid!?” and shoved me aside to shield Glory.

I just stood there. Numb.

“......”

Now I understand.

Why the so-called “Hero”—a symbol of righteousness—was drowning in depression.

Why someone who was supposed to be clean and pure now wandered around unwashed, reeking of alcohol and smoke.

What Ran meant when she kept saying, “There’s still an unknown bug with the Hero.”

Because this guy—he already believed the world was doomed.

Sailor Heal: We’ve found Agion!

Sailor Bite: H-he’s getting up! Something dangerous is...

....

It was chaos. My comm was blaring—but I couldn’t process the words.

The Hero can’t wield the Holy Sword. Murder is a past event—it can’t be undone.

So what now?

“Professor! We’ll go intercept him!”

“We’ll go too! There’s no time to waste here—!”

....

Whether we kill Demonized Agion or not... Humanity won’t survive the Demon King Raid anyway.

Attaching an oxygen mask to a dying patient... what’s the point?

Even though I’ve watched so many people die in hospital beds—I never found the answer to that.

“You—why, why can’t you draw the sword?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, f**k—are you gonna make a priest curse? You think ‘sorry’ is enough right now?! Why can’t you draw the damn sword?!”

“......”

“Do you think it was just one or two people who worked to get that sword in your hands?! I lied to the Kreutz Order just to be here. The Hiaka kids bled for this. And what about that professor?! And now you can’t even—”

The world around me was still a mess. And yet my blanked-out brain kept playing the scene over.

Glory can’t wield the Holy Sword.

That’s true.

But—is that all there is to it?

“No.”

Glory can’t use the sword. But that doesn’t mean that’s the end of this story.

“Ah.”

A memory flashed.

The very beginning.

Back when I first entered the game—right before my first day at the academy.

Adele woke me up in the car. “Professor~” she said, nudging me.

But that wasn’t the true beginning.

There was something before that.

Before I opened my eyes, there was darkness.

I clearly remember seeing the message:

A new game is starting.

And before that “new game” began—letters had floated up from the darkness.

Something about a DLC update... character sync...

And in between those—

There was definitely something else.

Choosing the Hero.

Male / Female

At that moment, the darkness receded.

Two cradles made of woven reeds sat on a desk.

Newborns. A boy and a girl. They looked almost the same—only the girl had a pink pin in her hair.

But both of them were sick. Burning with fever.

Next to them—medicine packets, syringe needles.

Choice: Male

And the one selected—was the boy.

But I hadn’t chosen him. He was selected automatically.

In that darkness—I’d never been given any choice.

After that...?

Nothing.

I don’t know. The screen went black. Only one line appeared before me:

You have selected the male Hero.

At the same time, all the countless games I’ve played before flashed through my mind.

Half the world is men, and half is women. And the gender one prefers to immerse themselves as when gaming differs accordingly. Most games give you a choice between the two.

But then—what happens to the female Hero, the one left unchosen?

She disappears.

If the chosen Hero is the boy, then the unchosen one is usually discarded forever from the story.

“You said let’s save the world together! You told me I was the only one who could do it! And now what the hell is this!?”

Slap!

Adele Mouin struck Glory’s cheek, and the sharp sound finally snapped me back to my senses.

She then brushed back his bangs, now caked with dirt and grime.

The sky-blue hair I’d so carefully washed and dyed was brushed aside—revealing his blue eyes, gazing downward.

“...What...”

But then—

Looking at his hair and eyes... that combination of colors...

Strange thoughts began creeping into my mind.

Because his hair had always been dirty gray from dust and pollution, it took me this long to realize it.

Sky-blue hair and blue eyes...?

I closed my eyes.

And suddenly, a terrifying possibility struck me.

Could it be?

If what I just remembered is correct...

Come to think of it...

Other than the Dante assassination unit I brought along and Kaiser, who was dragged in by the Shadow Constellation, who else had shown up for the Holy Sword Competition without any outside help?

Glory.

Adele Mouin.

Rebecca.

And... one more person.

Only now did I realize—the one who had been glancing my way ever since we left the Goldenfield casino.

│ㅅㅇ)

You...

You know something, don’t you?

│ㅅㅇ)

│ㅇ)

│)

And then—at the moment that person vanished—

[MP] : 1,552 / 3,102 (▼350)

—my mana was suddenly drained.

『 World Fabrication : Time Fabrication [????? sec / ? frame] 』

And alongside my status window, the person who had vanished now peeked their head out again—

...?? sec / 5 frame] 』)

...?? sec / ? frame] 』ㅇ)

...?? sec / ? frame] 』ㅅㅇ)

⋮

The world unfolded.

The vision, starting from mountains and forests, soared into the sky. Toward a white butterfly.

In a place filled with crystalline light, the fluttering butterfly drifted down toward a village, entering a building marked [Village Chief’s House].

There, on a desk, lay two woven reed cradles—each holding a baby. Exactly the scene I had first seen before the game began.

The butterfly settled between the two infants.

“...Their fevers are severe.”

An old woman with wrinkled skin said from across the cradle—likely a midwife.

The village chief asked gravely:

“Is it demonization?”

“Yes. A curse from the Lord of Eternal Recurrence.”

“This... this can’t be...”

The chief, and a man and woman who appeared to be the parents, all fell into despair.

“There’s truly no way to save both of them?”

The father asked.

“You must prepare yourselves.”

At the chief’s words, the mother covered her face and began to sob.

“These children are not ordinary. They were found blessed with mysterious grace. Each one has the potential to save the world and bring happiness to all...”

“I know. But we have only one dose left of the cure for demonization.”

Two infants, both afflicted with an incurable curse. Only one cure remained.

A cruel moment arrived.

“...Please choose one.”

The serum was injected into the arm of the baby boy.

Time passed.

The boy recovered.

The girl, however, withered away more and more with each passing day. Her fever kept rising. She lost her hearing. And finally, two horns began sprouting from her scalp.

“She has two horns. That child will become a disaster when she grows.”

“...I will take care of it.”

The midwife volunteered to dispose of the child. She took her and stepped outside.

But just as she was about to go, the girl—barely able to move—reached out and clutched the midwife’s wrinkled finger. She could no longer open her eyes properly or hear anything. Her hand burned with fever.

“......”

The midwife couldn’t do it. She’d seen many children die. Stillborn infants were a constant part of her life. Yet they still dragged her into nightmares from under the bed.

But this girl—she had been bottle-fed by the midwife herself, every meal.

How could she kill her?

So the old woman took the baby to the village chapel. There, she knelt and prayed. Begging for a miracle, some way to save her...

But even as night fell and the chapel’s closing hour arrived, there was no answer.

Ding...

Ding...

Ding...

Then suddenly, as the midnight bell rang—the expression on the baby girl’s face lightened ever so slightly.

“You like the sound of the bell?”

“......”

“You can’t even hear...”

The old woman hardened her resolve.

She lacquered the cradle with sap, placed the baby girl inside it, and let it float down the river. She tied a small bell—taken from the chapel—above the cradle.

Ding ding...

As she watched the baby drift away, she prayed.

We could not save her... Perhaps this child may become a danger to many someday.

And yet...

Please—let there be someone, somewhere, who will save her...

The old woman prayed.

⋮

That was it.

The vision shattered. My eyes flew open.

At that same moment, I heard over the comm that Agion had begun moving again.

But all that filled my head—was the image of a pale-blue-haired, blue-eyed, two-horned demon girl.

There was another Hero here.

My elephant.

Eve.