The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 132

Chapter 132
## Chapter 132: His Legacy

—

My eyelids flickered open.

A thick, translucent haze blanketed everything around me.

Was I still among the living?

It seemed so.

“Ugh…”

A sharp, throbbing agony flared from my right side, confirming my status. Pain, after all, was the most visceral proof of existence.

“…Heh.”

Daphner let out a dry, mirthless chuckle.

He saw his weapon lying just ahead of him. It was a masterpiece bow, crafted by the renowned smiths of the Verft Kingdom. The brutal temperature of the battle had scorched it badly, yet the frame remained intact.

However, the limb meant to draw the string was gone.

It had simply vanished.

From the tips of his fingers to the joint of his shoulder, his entire right arm had been reduced to nothing by the heat.

The sheer intensity of the suffering made his thoughts stutter, but he forced himself to stay conscious.

He had survived the immediate blast, but he had no concept of how the fight had shifted or how long he had been adrift in darkness.

The only stroke of luck was the heavy steam generated by the collision of frost and flame; it acted as a natural shroud, keeping him hidden.

*I have to reach the others.*

Clinging to a desperate survival instinct, Daphner’s mind began to churn.

The Four Heavenly Kings were hunting him specifically because he had laid eyes on the tower. If he perished here, the secret of that location would be lost once more.

But what if…

What if he changed the stakes entirely?

What if he broadcast the discovery to every member of the expedition? If everyone knew, the enemy couldn’t simply silence them all.

They wouldn’t dare attempt a total massacre.

Unlike himself—a Star and a celebrated hero—this group contained royal blood from both the Empire and the Kingdom. Specifically, Prince Martin of the Empire. Though Martin was further down the line of succession than some of his siblings, he was still a vital piece of the imperial lineage.

Daphner hadn’t understood why the third prince was part of this scouting unit when he first saw him while retreating, but now, it was a saving grace.

He began to crawl through the white mist.

Fortune favored him briefly as he stumbled upon a cluster of figures.

“Your Highness!”

He had found them. Prince Belov of Korsen was nearby, flanked by his personal elite guards.

“Lord Daphner! Your arm… what happened?!”

“The arm doesn’t matter. Listen, Your Highness—I’ve located the tower!”

“…The tower?”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely!”

Daphner pressed the recording orb into the prince’s hand.

“It sits within a hidden basin roughly five kilometers north of the main peak. It’s tucked between high ridges, making it invisible from the summits.”

It made sense now why the previous scouts, who only surveyed the peaks, had found nothing.

“You have to protect this with your life.”

He had already created duplicates the moment he captured the image as a safety measure, but one could never be too careful. He intended to give a copy to every soul he encountered.

“Rest assured, it is safe with me. But your injuries—”

“I can hold on. I need to find Prince Martin. Spread the word to the rest of the unit immediately.”

“Wait, what do you—”

The prince’s question hung in the air. Daphner was already gone.

He vanished into the swirling vapor as quickly as he had appeared, pushing his remaining senses to their absolute limit.

*Faster… I have to find the prince…*

If he could just reach Martin and share the intelligence, the enemy’s focus would be forced to fracture.

But his physical form was beginning to betray him.

*What is this feeling?*

His limbs suddenly felt as heavy as lead.

*Am I really this spent?*

Perhaps it was the massive loss of blood, both from the initial blast and the exertion of moving.

…The world began to tilt.

Was it just fatigue? He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay upright.

That was when the silence was broken.

* *You look like you’re at your limit.*

A voice drifted through the fog. He scanned the area, but the mist remained empty. Even his honed detection skills picked up nothing.

A delusion?

No, the voice was far too distinct.

“…Who’s there?”

* *Who do you think?*

The tone was hauntingly familiar.

“…The Dark Spirit Sorceress.”

* *I’m flattered you haven’t forgotten me.*

Daphner cursed the Four Heavenly King under his breath and tried to run. He just needed to find one more person. But no matter how far he pushed his legs, the mist remained devoid of allies.

His limbs grew heavier with every step. His lungs burned, and a rhythmic pounding started behind his eyes. Finally, his strength gave out, and he tumbled into the muck. Dirt and slush filled his mouth.

“What is…?”

He looked down at his remaining limbs in terror. The mist seemed to be clinging to him like physical chains, pinning him to the earth.

“When did you…?”

“Who can say? When indeed?”

The voice was no longer a distant echo. It was right at his ear.

The masked figure of the Dark Spirit Sorceress stepped out of the white shroud, tilting her head slightly.

“It happened the moment you started running.”

She spoke in a low murmur.

“The spirits seeped into you gradually. You were too distracted by your missing arm to notice the intrusion.”

“You monster…!”

“Save your breath. Agitation only speeds the bleeding. It’ll only make the end more painful.”

“Shut up!”

“I truly am sorry it had to end this way.”

To Ernyan Hildean, Daphner wasn’t a close comrade, but she knew him through her father’s circles.

They had crossed paths a few times, and he had always maintained a veneer of kindness toward her.

But loyalty was a ladder. Some rungs were higher than others.

Berge’s needs outweighed Daphner’s life. It was as simple as that.

“Lord Daphner.”

She stepped closer.

Daphner tried to scramble back, reaching for a will to fight that his body no longer possessed. The fog-shackles held him firm.

The gap between them closed.

His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

What could he do?

How was he supposed to survive this?

He was powerless, yet the hunger for life screamed within him. He searched his mind for any leverage, any trick.

In that moment.

“Lord Daphner.”

The whisper came again.

Their gazes locked.

Time seemed to decelerate.

‘……’

Those violet eyes, shimmering with an impossible brilliance.

The pale, platinum hair catching the dim light.

That peculiar, innocent inflection.

Why did he recognize this?

It was impossible. It couldn’t be. His mind rejected the thought instantly, but the intuition remained.

The most horrific realization possible clawed at his brain.

His eyes widened in shock. The Sorceress didn’t miss the change.

“…It’s you.”

She gave him a look of profound pity.

“You’ve figured it out?”

“…Is it really you?”

“It is.”

“…But why?”

“Even if I explained, you wouldn’t truly understand.”

“No one would. Not a single soul.”

Oddly, the confirmation brought a strange wave of stillness. Or perhaps it was just total mental shock. He couldn’t even begin to process a betrayal of this magnitude.

*Thud.*

He felt a boot press against his back.

“Lord Daphner?”

Hillun Kagil emerged from the haze. A spark of hope lit up in Daphner.

“Lord Hillun!”

“Are you in one piece?”

“I’m alive. Forget that—look! That Four Heavenly King—”

“The Heavenly King?”

“She’s…”

The words died in his throat. Even with the evidence before him, it felt like a fever dream. The truth was too discordant with the world he knew.

But Hillun finished the thought for him.

“You mean the fact that the Heavenly King is actually Princess Ernyan Hildean?”

“Yes…”

Daphner froze.

“How… how do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“…What are you saying?”

“Are you truly confident that no one can see through this mist?”

Hillun wasn’t looking at Daphner. His eyes were fixed on the Dark Spirit Sorceress—on Ernyan.

“A few might be able to, but none of them are in this vicinity.”

“…No. It can’t be.”

A suspicion even darker than the first took root.

It couldn’t be true.

“…You too?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Her tranquil smile sent a fresh shiver down his spine.

It was true.

It was all true.

The subtle shift in the air, the cold intent—it was no longer a guess.

“…The hope of humanity.”

“Yes.”

Daphner’s heart turned to stone.

“…Aren’t you the champion who took the lives of two Demon Kings? You had the world at your feet. Why would you crawl to the Demon King?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this either.”

But here they were. There was no changing it now.

“Don’t take it too personally.”

Everyone has their own burdens to carry.

“You fought this hard to stay alive, just as I am fighting to keep my own life.”

“Make sure his passing is quick.”

Ernyan whispered the request. It was her final act of respect for Daphner Philian.

“Should I thank you for the mercy?”

Daphner let out a broken, pathetic laugh.

It wasn’t joy. It was the laughter of a man who realized there were no exits left.

The kidnapped princess and the man meant to be the savior of the age had both turned their backs on the world for the sake of the enemy.

“Hillun Kagil. The world will settle this debt with you. Do you really think you can hide the sun with your palm?”

“It’s not my palm doing the hiding, so yes.”

The Demon King was a shadow large enough to cover the world.

“I’ll be watching from the other side to see where this path leads you.”

“A pity. You won’t be watching anything.”

Daphner closed his eyes.

*Slash—*

A single, clean arc was drawn through the air.

Exhausted, broken, and drained of blood, Daphner offered no resistance. He didn’t even flinch.

He simply stared at the traitors with a vacant, twisted grin.

His handsome features contorted. His perspective shifted violently. He saw a mask. Fair skin, silver hair, and those hauntingly innocent eyes.

The world began to spin.

He drew in a final lungful of freezing air. He saw the spirit lingering behind the woman, wearing a smile.

The spray of crimson against the white fog was strangely beautiful. The snowy ground rushed up to meet him.

*Splat—*

A flash of heat followed by an all-encompassing cold. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, quickly numbed by the frost.

His vision darkened. Shadows stretched over his fading sight.

Something heavy thudded nearby. A warm, red tide washed over his face.

Ah.

Only then did he realize that the slumped form nearby was his own.

*My head has been severed.*

That was the final thought.

With his eyes frozen open, his spirit departed the shell of his body.

One of the great lights that had guided the world had been extinguished.

—

*Crackle—*

The magical shroud finally began to dissipate.

“It’s thinning!”

“The casters have broken the spell!”

As the mist vanished, it revealed scorched earth and a massive, jagged crater where the snow had turned to slush.

The hollow was filled with a gruesome sight: red-stained water, mangled remains, and a pile of corpses.

“…Saints above.”

The survivors recoiled in horror.

It wasn’t just the demonic fire or the scale of the destruction.

It was the bodies. Some charred, some decapitated.

And among them lay a giant of their era.

Daphner Philian.

One of the Ten Stars, the paragons of heroism, had been cut down.

The princes, the knights, the mages, and the scouts all fell into a stunned silence.

They began the grim task of recovering the fallen and tending to those who still breathed.

The princes stood by, cursing under their breath.

“…What’s the plan?”

“……”

Martin chewed on his lip, his expression grim.

The entity that had unleashed those flames was a Demon King. And that Demon King had personally ended Daphner Philian.

Why?

Why did he do it himself?

*Is this a message for me?*

It felt like a weight pressing down on him, a reminder of a promise. A declaration that the Demon King could step out from his tower and shatter the world’s order whenever he pleased.

The fact that a Star had been hidden among them, that Daphner was dead, and that the flames had been so absolute—it all pointed to one thing.

If Daphner Philian could be killed so easily, what hope did someone like Martin have?

It was a clear signal: stop the search, turn back, or face the same fate.

“I believe a withdrawal is our only option now,” Belov said, breaking the silence.

“The losses are catastrophic. More importantly, the death of Daphner Philian has broken the men’s spirit.”

The sheer weight of the loss was staggering.

The terror of the entity that could slay a Star gripped the hearts of every survivor.

*If Daphner is dead, how can we succeed?*

*If the servant is that strong, what chance do we have against the master?*

“His end is a tragedy, but we must let it be the reason we survive. we need to regroup and report the sheer scale of the enemy’s power. It galls me to say it, but this mission has failed.”

“However—”

“If you choose to stay, Your Highness, you stay alone. I’m taking my men. Staying here is just inviting more useless deaths.”

“…I understand.”

Martin gave a stiff nod.

He had been leaning toward retreat anyway; having the suggestion come from someone else made it easier to accept.

“And to be honest.”

Belov lowered his voice to a whisper.

“……?”

“…Our objective is actually complete.”

“What are you talking about?”

Belov pulled out the recording orb.

“The tower’s coordinates are in here. We found what we came for.”

“…How?”

Martin’s voice dropped instinctively.

“Lord Daphner passed it to me just before he fell.”

“…Incredible.”

“I am willing to share this with you. But it won’t be a gift.”

“……”

Belov weighed his options carefully.

Information regarding the tower’s location was a political nuclear weapon. He had to use it wisely.

Keeping it entirely for himself wasn’t the play. It would highlight the Empire’s failure while showcasing his own success, which would make him a target for the Empire—a dangerous move.

“Given the current climate in the Empire, it matters very much who gets credit for this discovery.”

“You’re looking for a bargain?”

“I am.”

He shifted his strategy. The credit had to be split regardless, and the perfect partner was standing right in front of him. It was better to share the glory and secure a powerful ally.

The third prince might be behind his siblings in the race for the throne, but he was still a top-tier imperial royal.

“I will put my weight behind you, Your Highness.”

Therefore.

“I expect you to do the same for me.”

A pact for their mutual survival and ascent.