Chapter 2: Hero, Please Save This World!
Qin Chu was dead!
His body lay in pieces, his soul shattered into countless fragments, drifting to every corner of the Heavenly Continent. Yet, his fractured consciousness, not yet fully dispersed, remained aware of the unfolding events.
In the Holy City, people rejoiced.
Within the grand palace, nobles reveled, their glasses clinking in celebration of their unshakeable authority.
The city’s soldiers hunted down the few remaining souls who dared utter a kind word about the fallen Hero. A young woman in a wheelchair, her body wracked with sobs, was mercilessly impaled, left to die a gruesome death.
…
A fragment of Qin Chu’s soul drifted to the Supreme Council Hall.
His dismembered corpse lay before Loseweisse, her beautiful eyes alight with a crazed glee. The loathsome creature was finally gone! What could bring greater joy?
“Hero?” she spat. “You? You’ve basked in the glory of that title for long enough. There is only one true Hero, and no one can replace him.”
They drained his remains of every last drop of blood, leaving behind a withered husk.
Even in death, his body exuded an aura of formidable power.
They couldn’t erase the memory of this young man, who had single-handedly stormed the Demon Beasts’ lair, torn apart the Eternal Monarch Nagath, and returned bathed in blood.
His swordsmanship, unparalleled, had carved a line in the earth that millions of Demon Beasts dared not cross, forcing them to retreat into the abyss.
What a hero he had been.
The sight of his wide, unseeing eyes, forever frozen in an expression of rage and hatred, sent chills down their spines.
“Seal his torso and limbs at the Edge of the Sky, the Tip of the Sea, the Cloud Summit, the Heart of the Lake, and the Root of the Tree,” Loseweisse finally declared, her voice as cold as ice.
The Edge of the Sky and the Tip of the Sea marked the eastern and westernmost points of the Heavenly Continent. The Cloud Summit, the highest peak in the land, housed the headquarters of the Church of the Earth Mother Goddess. The Heart of the Lake lay at the center of the Boundary Lake, upon which the Holy See stood. And the Tree, of course, referred to the Tree of Life.
“As for his head…”
“Seal it beneath the Holy City.”
“Let his skull endure the weight of our feet, the scorn of the masses, for all eternity. Let him never rise again…”
Only then, perhaps, would she find true peace.
…
Another fragment of Qin Chu’s soul drifted through the bustling streets.
He watched as the auction house distributed flyers, announcing the day’s main attraction: a single drop of the Hero’s blood.
The flyer boasted a ludicrous list of benefits: Consume a piece of bread smeared with the Hero’s blood, and enjoy robust health, immunity to all diseases and poisons, and a longer lifespan. The most outrageous claim? It could enhance beauty and virility.
…
Another fragment found itself at the Sealing Grounds.
A crackling bonfire illuminated the faces of the celebrating soldiers, their rough hands clasped together as they danced around the flames.
For the guards stationed at the Sealing Grounds, this was a day for revelry.
The Hero was dead. And their salaries? Increased.
They knew of the Hero’s valor, his unmatched strength on the battlefield.
But that was in the past, during the war.
Now, with the Demon Beasts banished and peace restored, the Hero was irrelevant.
“Hahaha, that bastard’s finally gone… Never liked him anyway.”
“Yeah, like he was the only one who fought the Demon Beasts. We’ve all seen our share of battles. Why did he get all the glory? As if we didn’t do anything.”
“I heard that guy was raking in a hundred million in benefits every year! We barely make a hundred Mana! All ten thousand of us combined wouldn’t even amount to a tenth of what he received.”
“He stopped the Eternal Calamity? Please, wasn’t that his duty? He was the Hero; it was his job! Why else would we summon him?”
“Fine, he got special treatment during the Eternal Calamity. But the war’s over! He was still clinging to that pedestal, the shameless leech.”
“And the media! All they did was sing his praises. No one even acknowledged our sacrifices, our hard work.”
“Besides, who’s to say we couldn’t have defeated the Eternal Calamity without him?”
“Bah! Our Heavenly Continent is blessed with its own heroes! We could have handled the Eternal Calamity ourselves. We didn’t need some foreign dog from another world…”
Money, as always, proved to be the most persuasive force.
Not a single soul in the entire camp spoke up for the Hero, not one remembered the blood he had shed for their world.
As their boisterous celebration reached a fever pitch, no one noticed the telltale cracks spreading across the Heavenly Chains, holding the monstrous form of the Dark Witch, resembling a colossal serpent, at bay.
Qin Chu knew his lifespan, no matter how powerful he became, wouldn’t exceed a century. The Witch, however, possessed a near-eternal existence. Fearing she might wreak havoc after his death, he had poured half of his life force into the Heavenly Chains, binding her and tethering his own existence to hers. When he perished, she wouldn’t be far behind.
Bathed in the pale moonlight, the Witch emerged from her prison.
Her silver hair flowed behind her like a banner in the wind. Her face, as flawless as polished jade, held a captivating beauty. But her crimson eyes, gleaming with an otherworldly light, betrayed her true nature.
Her curves, both alluring and dangerous, were accentuated by her elegant black gown, its dark fabric whispering in the wind.
What a bewitching beauty!
The most powerful Witch was also the most alluring, a cruel, mocking smile playing on her lips, her scarlet eyes burning like embers in the night.
“Disgusting little maggots…” she hissed.
“Let the judgment bell… toll!”
She lazily stretched her slender arms, her silver hair whipping around her as a wave of dark red energy emanated from her body, swirling towards the sky.
Below, the ten thousand soldiers continued their revelry, oblivious to the impending doom.
The moon vanished behind a veil of dark clouds as a colossal clock, its face glowing with a sinister crimson light, materialized in the sky. Its long hand ticked slowly, ominously.
Tick… Tock… Tick…
Each sound, crisp and clear, seemed to claw at their very souls.
Finally, as the hand reached its zenith…
GONG!
The judgment bell tolled!
A dark wind swept across the land.
It began at the edge of the camp, a gentle breeze ruffling their hair.
The celebrating soldiers froze mid-movement, their expressions—frozen in grotesque smiles—devoid of fear or even comprehension.
And then…
They collapsed, one after another, their hearts stilled, their bodies falling like wheat before a scythe.
Row after row after row…
Silent death on one side, oblivious revelry on the other.
The unfortunate souls, blind to the demise of their comrades, continued their grotesque dance, their laughter echoing through the night.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before a bleary-eyed soldier finally noticed the unsettling stillness in the distance.
“Hey, what’s going on over there? Why’s everyone lying down?”
Another soldier, noticing the ever-growing swathe of fallen comrades, shrugged dismissively. “Probably passed out drunk.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grabbed his bottle, and stumbled towards the fallen men. “Get up, you lazy bastards! Let’s…”
His words died in his throat as an unseen force slammed into him. His face contorted in a silent scream, his body stiffening as he pitched forward.
The first soldier, finally registering the gravity of the situation, watched in horror as more and more of his comrades collapsed around him. His gaze fell upon the swirling black and red mist, and the alcohol evaporated from his system in an instant. “De…”
“Demon… Demon Witch! She’s free!”
His terrified shriek pierced the night as he flung his bottle aside and scrambled to his feet, fleeing for his life.
His cry jolted the others awake, and the horrifying truth dawned on them. Panic seized the camp as they witnessed the gruesome fate of their comrades, their faces draining of all color. None dared to help the fallen, choosing instead to save themselves.
The joyous celebration descended into chaos, a desperate scramble for survival.
They ran as if their lives depended on it, which they did.
Forgotten bottles of liquor lay shattered on the ground, abandoned skewers of meat scattered amidst the fleeing soldiers.
They trampled over each other in their haste, a tangled mass of panicked bodies. Those unfortunate enough to trip were instantly buried under a sea of thrashing limbs.
The silent, relentless reaper cut through their ranks, a far more terrifying sight than any blood-soaked battlefield. At least in the heat of battle, they knew what they were facing. But here, death was an invisible, unknowable force.
The black and red mist, the unmistakable mark of the Dark Witch, filled them with primal terror. The horrifying rumors, the whispers of millions devoured by her magic, all came rushing back.
Wails of despair, screams of terror, and the chattering of teeth filled the air.
But no matter how fast they ran, they couldn’t outrun the creeping mist. It snaked towards them, a harbinger of their inevitable demise.
Some, their minds shattered by fear, simply froze in place, their faces ashen masks of terror as they awaited the sweet embrace of oblivion.
“Run! The Witch is here!”
“Get out of my way!”
“How did she escape? I thought the seal was unbreakable!”
“Mommy, I don’t want to die! Someone, please help me!”
“Who can stop her?”
“The Hero! Where’s the Hero? Someone save us!”
Ah, yes. The Hero.
He was dead.
Qin Chu’s fragmented soul watched the unfolding carnage, a silent, unseen observer. Had he possessed a physical form, his laughter would have echoed across the land.
The blood mist continued to spread, its reach growing with every passing moment.
The Witch, her life force dwindling, her form growing translucent, coughed up a mouthful of blood, her face paler than death.
She swayed, her gaze lifting towards the sky, as if she could sense his lingering presence.
Raising her staff, she plunged it into the ground.
The swirling blood mist around her contracted, forming a colossal vortex. An irresistible force emanated from its depths, drawing Qin Chu’s scattered soul fragments from every corner of the Heavenly Continent.
And then, darkness swallowed him whole.
But before his consciousness faded entirely, he heard Shaye Nigulas’s voice, faint and ethereal, echoing through the void.
“A sacrifice of a million souls…”
…
Time lost all meaning as Qin Chu drifted in a sea of nothingness.
Who am I? Where am I? What happened?
He found himself on a barren mountaintop, bathed in the cold light of the moon. The wind howled around him, whipping his nonexistent hair.
He was disoriented, confused.
“Success! We’ve summoned another Hero!”
The familiar voice grated on his nerves. He realized he was standing on an elevated platform, surrounded by twelve elderly men, their frail bodies half-buried in ornate sarcophagi, and a beautiful woman in her early thirties.
The Thirteen Sages?
Observing his bewildered expression, the woman, Natia, the youngest of the Sages, stepped forward and took his hands in hers. Her large, watery eyes gazed up at him, pleading. “Hero, please, you must save our world!”
Qin Chu’s eyes widened. He wrenched his hands away from her grasp and roared, “Save? Save your own damn self!”