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On that day, the royal capital boiled with excitement as the knights made their triumphant return. People joyfully waved Elugor’s flags and watched the triumphant return of the heroes who had achieved a deed rarely seen in recent years.

The faces of the knights were radiant as they walked through the crowd of admiring gazes and applause, followed by a paean of praise. They were all proud of their accomplishment, their faces beaming with pride.

A large number of Upper Rank Demons had emerged. The kingdom was plunged into fear due to the emergency that unfolded near the outskirts of the royal capital, colloquially referred to as the King’s Throat.

Even a single Upper Rank Demon possessed immense power, akin to that of a natural disaster, yet a group of thirty had appeared. The prospect of hunting them all down in a single night was an anomaly beyond comprehension.

Yet this extraordinary feat had been made possible by the presence of a rare genius knight named Orthus. Though Orthus was a commoner, he had already earned such trust that many noble knights recognized him.

Orthus, then a mere 21 years old, appeared youthful but had an undeniable presence. He stood out in his shining sacred armor and led the group. Yet, no one harbored any dissatisfaction. Orthus had firmly established himself as an outstanding representative of the kingdom, both in name and in deed.

Many compliments were directed towards Orthus. In Elugor’s royal capital, no one doubted his prowess.

◇◇◇

That night, Orthus was drunk. He typically held his alcohol well, so it was unusual for him to reach this state.

Part of it was due to fatigue but mostly it was because the senior knights had thrown a victory party, urging him to gulp down large amounts of alcohol within minutes. The shared experience of facing death together had weakened the pre-established barriers between commoners and nobles in their minds even further.

“Urghh…”
“Hey, are you alright? It’s not every day I see you this drunk.”
“The hero Orthus is human after all.”

With flushed vermilion cheeks and supported by the senior knights, Orthus staggered along the corner of the main street, where oil lamps occasionally illuminated his path. Only five or six of them had remained.

While they might have looked like a group of drunkards to the regular passerby, they were still first-class knights. Their journey home was uneventful until they encountered something unexpected.

The group suddenly crossed paths with a pale boy emerging from an alleyway.

His body was scratched all over, his cheeks were stained with soot, and he was emitting an animal-like scent akin to a beast caught in the rain. His skin appeared sallow and tanned, his hair a fiery red. There was a lack of light in his eyes, and his emaciated body resembled that of a wraith.

However, something in the boy changed the moment he and Orthus locked eyes. The boy’s expression underwent a dramatic transformation as his eyes only looked at Orthus.

It was as though the skin of an abandoned dog had been ripped open from within, revealing a hideous monster lurking beneath.

A surge of hatred coursed through the boy, filling the void that had previously occupied his being. His brow furrowed deeply, his canine teeth bared in an animalistic display, and he lunged towards Orthus.

Orthus, still feeling the effects of his mild intoxication, was slightly slow to react.
The boy swiftly closed the distance between them, launching himself at Orthus’ sizable frame and grabbing him by the chest, unleashing a barrage of shouts and accusations.

Orthus struggled to comprehend the boy’s words, which came out muddled and incoherent. Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks and choked sobs escaped from his throat.

The boy seemed consumed by a maddening fury, a state that Orthus could grasp, despite his mild intoxication.

“Get off!” One of the knights exclaimed as he pushed the boy, trying to create some distance between Orthus and him.

The boy was tossed aside, his body rolling around in the alley. Orthus felt concern for him and tried to go to him, but two knights stepped in his path as if to block him.

“Orthus, you go ahead of us.”
“But…”
“Just go. You don’t have time to worry about people holding personal grudges like this. Just go home and prepare for tomorrow.”
“Okay…” Orthus relented.

His mind clouded with uncertainty, Orthus held his forehead and decided to let the situation unfold. Little did he know, this decision marked a crucial turning point.

At this juncture, Orthus and Lichter’s paths crossed.

If only Orthus had acted differently then, if only he had given it more thought. But now, regret weighed heavily upon him, knowing it was too late to change the course of events.

The taste of iron suddenly filled Lichter’s mouth as he rolled miserably on the ground. It mingled with the taste of tears, with phlegm entangled in the back of his throat, and the flavor of shame wrapped around his tongue.

Clenching his fists tightly, Lichter gritted his teeth in frustration.

After his brother’s death, Lichter spent his days wandering like a ghost, burdened by an unfathomable sense of remorse, due to abandoning him. Yet, alongside this crushing guilt, there simmered within him a mysterious urge to bring ruin upon everything he encountered, rendering his existence anything but human.

It was then that the young boy Lichter had heard of the heroic tales, which naturally revolved around Orthus. To him, a hero was an embodiment of an exceptional knight who extended a helping hand to the weak, guiding the country toward the light.

Upon hearing the heroic tales, rage boiled within Lichter. Unable to contain his trembling hatred, he lashed out, brutally beating the bard to a pulp. The intense emotions, akin to heated iron overflowing within him, fueled his questions and anger.

“Why?” Lichter seethed.

If there truly was such a hero, why had he not saved him and his brother? Why hadn’t he appeared back then? Lichter couldn’t forgive him no matter what.

Fueled by his fury and seeking vengeance, he journeyed to the capital with a singular purpose – to unleash his anger upon the hero Orthus.