Chapter 8

“I haven’t been yearning for life like those washed-up Demon Kings from hundreds, even a thousand years ago or more—trying to revive and all that nasty business. You’re sharp; you’ve probably started guessing why by now.”

And that’s exactly it.

Carriel panted heavily as she spoke.

“Is your belief that humanity’s victory was just an illusion? That you didn’t truly lose, having already achieved everything you wanted in life… so there’s no regret or longing left for you now?”

“Correct, kiddo.”

The Demon King tossed the iron sword into the sky and crossed his arms, laughing.

“You’re right again—I’ve never lost. And when I invaded the Middle Realm, success was already guaranteed at that point.”

“But… didn’t humanity stop you? You died too… Wait, could it be? Were the traitorous demons who betrayed you actually part of your grand plan?”

“That was me just setting up survival paths for them. A king’s gotta make sure his loyal vassals and citizens have futures, right? Even if they were bad listeners.”

Could it be that even the betrayal of the demon race was all part of her grand design?

“Their species is rough around the edges, but even among them, there are exceptions. The peaceful types who love rural living would find this Middle Realm far more livable. They don’t realize how blessed clean air and good water can be.”

“…”

“You look confused. Oh my! Here I am bragging to some kid while trying to act smart! What a loser I am!”

The Demon King exaggeratedly boasted without any shame—it strangely fit his demeanor perfectly.

Still, the fact that this childish boasting wasn’t mere arrogance carried significant weight.

“So, back to the topic—if you waste your precious time following their ways, your future will likely end up pretty bleak. Somewhere around ink-black levels, perhaps?”

“You’ve certainly orchestrated things so I have no choice but to rely on you.”

“Not true~ Just acting smug! Seriously, did it sound like that? I already said I’m not here to teach you anything. Soul contracts? Deals? Nope! Like I said before, the ship has sailed.”

“Opportunity…”

“Exactly. In the end, it all depends on whether you seize it or not. That’s all that remains.”

So, you need to awaken the three things I mentioned earlier.

“Accuracy, efficiency, sincerity… right?”

“My constant bragging until now was aimed at teaching you two out of those three.”

Accuracy and efficiency.

Their meaning and importance.

“Then what about sincerity…? What exactly do you mean? Desperation? Eagerness?”

“That’s included too. Have you ever understood what it means to pour your heart into something, to give it your all? To risk your life, burn your soul, or exert every ounce of strength you have? Biting down hard and charging forward isn’t just a saying—it’s real for some.”

In short.

“To achieve your goals, to reach the desired conclusion, you must pour everything you have into it. No hiding, no holding back—revealing every bit of yourself. Different forms of expression exist, but you get the gist, right?”

“…I understand intellectually.”

“That’s enough.”

If you can’t grasp it with your head, how could you possibly understand it with your heart?

Some people instinctively feel it in their hearts or bodies.

But that’s fleeting, impulsive, and often just dumb luck.

“Your ability to intentionally and deliberately wield this will completely determine the nature of your training and the potential for your future growth.”

“So… how do I obtain it… Ah.”

“You catch on quick. Good.”

She smiled brightly as she continued.

“I won’t tell you. Figure it out yourself.”

To start…

Die sincerely 100 times.

She grinned cheerfully.

The Demon King disguised as a young girl cruelly declared.

“Oh! Don’t worry too much! You won’t actually die in reality! You know this is just a dream, right?”

====

I expected another barrage of arrows, but no.

Just an empty white space.

A small sword lying on the ground.

And myself, sprawled out in the vast emptiness.

“…”

Carriel was observant.

If he hadn’t been, he’d have suffered far greater pain and humiliation.

Instead of just being falsely accused and slandered, he’d have wallowed in despair and resignation, drowning in self-loathing like a fawn trapped in mud, losing even the strength to struggle.

However, being observant and quick-witted doesn’t always lead to positive outcomes.

Because the despair that comes with it is magnified.

The unfairness and disadvantages dealt to him.

And the resulting pain.

All become vividly imaginable.

We call it prediction or expectation.

It’s both humanity’s greatest weapon and its double-edged sword, driving and restraining action.

Die.

Just die sincerely 100 times.

“Are you telling me… to kill myself?”

There’s a sword.

Nothing else in this space.

The clue is so blatant that it makes my hands tremble.

In this blank, noiseless world, Carriel realized he had been cast into an endless void.

“100 times?”

Sounds easy.

Too easy.

Numbers-wise, not that big.

Imagine 100 fruits—it’s quite a lot, but manageable in a few large crates.

Even less impressive with coins: gold, silver, copper.

“…”

With a bewildered face, Carriel picked up the fallen sword.

No matter how much he thought, this wasn’t about finding answers through logic.

The problem-giver is the Demon King.

And the Demon King expects nothing but a straightforward breakthrough without compromise.

That is…

“Sincerity. Eagerness. Desperation.”

Am I desperate?

Do I long for strength?

Yeah, I think I used to.

At some point, it disappeared.

It all felt meaningless.

I did it because I was told to.

Without any sense of fulfillment.

Over time, it became increasingly clear.

“What’s the point…”

There’s no point.

Does effort guarantee progress?

No, it didn’t.

Until now, everyone said it was right.

They shouted and raged about it.

So…

I blindly believed and fell into despair, constantly lamenting my fate.

Thus, I lost my way entirely.

Since childhood, I occasionally received sword training from my father, but his only conclusion was that I needed to focus on the basics.

And the world criticized and pushed me relentlessly under my father Ruelde, questioning why I couldn’t meet even basic expectations despite all my efforts.

At least according to my father, after all this time of relentless effort, Carriel still lacked foundational skills.

Worse yet, he struggled inherently with mana manipulation, limiting his capacity severely. This caused his magical talents to be dismissed as well.

“Huh…”

Was I even intelligent? Did I have a good memory? Was I talented with formulas and calculations?

None of that applied either.

Through sheer repetition and force-feeding, I managed to pass written exams and theoretical knowledge, but practical application was another story.

Despite pouring countless hours into practice, whether magic or swordsmanship, I failed to excel.

Even switching weapons or tools didn’t help.

Physical labor didn’t suit me either, due to my shaky fundamentals.

No matter how much harder I worked compared to others, I always ended up with subpar results.

At least studying was somewhat easier.

Effort there yielded tangible rewards.

“…”

But even then, someone else could achieve better results in a fraction of the time it took me.

Why is the world so unfair?

Why am I so incompetent?

So powerless?

Am I really destined to be the hero who saved the world…?

“…”

I took a deep breath.

Filling my lungs to their limit.

Don’t escape.

Don’t indulge in self-pity and turn away from reality.

The task is simple.

Die.

100 times.

If others won’t kill me…

“I will…”

I’ll kill this detestable version of myself.

The heavy blade held in both hands.

The sensation of it cutting sharply through skin, muscle, and bone, piercing straight through my neck.

The overwhelming nausea from the intense discomfort sweeping through my body.

But the immediate realization that I won’t die brings deeper despair.

It hurts.

Not even a scream escapes my lips.

The sound of rushing wind fades, replaced by gurgling blood and popping bubbles—but that’s all.

‘Ah…’

In this pain and bitter regret, all I can think is:

Next time, I must die cleanly.

Such a despicable resolution amidst my struggles.

Even that feels futile.

The only thing rising within me is unbearable frustration.

…

Yet, oddly enough,

there’s a hint of relief.

“That’s just another form of giving up…”

“Huh?!”

The resurrected Demon King mocked me.

“Don’t lose sight of your purpose. Who said you should accept death, bear it, and resign yourself to it? If you keep this up, it won’t be 100 deaths—you’ll be dying hundreds, maybe thousands of times!”

Stay centered.

Remember why you’re doing this.

“Delve deeper. Imprint it. Think. Wrestle with your mind. Burn your heart searching for answers. Crave them!”

“…You don’t have to say it!”

Reversing my grip, I plunged the sword into my own heart.

Of course, the supposed blessing of quick unconsciousness never came.

“Gah!”

I know.

I know better than anyone!

Suddenly, doubts crept in:

Do I really need to go this far?

Will doing this make me stronger?

Will it even earn me basic respect?

For a moment, it felt unbearably painful and heartbreaking.

Yeah.

Me.

Right now.

Feels…

so damn hard.

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