Once, in a world where demons ruled and humanity was enslaved, there lived a young man. These malevolent beings wreaked havoc, killing, torturing, and violating the defenseless. After witnessing the brutal slaughter of his family, the young man, consumed by despair, prayed fervently to the gods for salvation. He climbed the highest mountain and, for seven days and nights, begged for divine intervention to end the nightmare.
Moved by his unwavering faith, a god chose to answer his plea, granting him the power to vanquish the monstrous demons and save humanity. Armed with a golden sword as radiant as the sun, the young man became a hero, slaying demons and liberating city after city.
Five years passed, and though he stood victorious in countless battles, he was often alone, his life constantly at risk. Yet, amidst the darkness, humanity began to glimpse a sliver of hope. The hero was hailed as the world's savior, and for a moment, it seemed as though everyone might live happily ever after. But life, as the hero would learn, is rarely so simple.
Lying atop a pile of freshly slain demons, the hero sighed, his voice weary. "I'm exhausted. No matter how many of them I kill, it feels like I'm not making any real difference. Everyone's hopes rest on me, but... sometimes, I just wish I could drift away like a cloud, free from it all." With a flick of his sword, the demon corpses disintegrated into ash, scattered by the wind.
He made his way to the nearest city, expecting cheers and gratitude for his efforts. A smile touched his lips as he imagined the relief on the townspeople's faces. But as he approached, reality struck harder than any demon's claw. Instead of praise, he was met with anger and resentment. People hurled insults and debris, their faces twisted in fury. "Why didn't you come sooner?" they screamed. Children, tears streaming down their faces, ran to him—not in admiration, but in rage, kicking and blaming him for their parents' deaths.
The hero tried to comfort them, but their grief was too raw, their pain too deep. The townspeople attacked him, their fists fueled by loss. He couldn't bring himself to raise his sword against the innocent, so he fled, running as fast as he could. Deep down, a gnawing doubt took root: Could I have been faster? He promised himself, "Next time will be different."
But it never was. No matter how many demons he defeated, the scenario repeated itself. Town after town, he was met with the same bitter reception. The people, ungrateful and grieving, questioned him, "If you can't save us in time, what's the point of being a hero?" Each encounter chipped away at his spirit until he could barely recognize himself.
Weary and disillusioned, the hero whispered into the night, "I wish I could end this."
"You could," a voice replied from the shadows. The hero turned to see a strange man standing behind him, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise. "If you're willing to make a deal..."
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