The depths of the Sabnock Plains.
Not far from the central region where the magic beast Sabnock, lord of the demon realm, held dominion, a young boy lay collapsed on the ground.
"Ugh... ah..."
The boy let out faint, shallow breaths.
He was battered beyond recognition. His entire body was in ruins, his limbs bent and broken at grotesque angles.
Several ribs were fractured as well, and pain lanced through every part of him—so agonizing that he couldn't even tell where it was coming from.
(Why... am I... what happened...?)
The boy—Rodele Aiwood—tried to think through his hazy consciousness.
He couldn't recall how he had ended up here.
He must have taken some tremendous impact... his memories were vague, and he had no idea where he was or why he was lying here.
"It... hurts...!"
The only thing he was sure of was the searing pain throughout his body.
It was nothing short of a miracle that he was still conscious—everything hurt, everything ached, everything was utterly unbearable.
He would have been better off passing out... but as though some invisible force were inflicting divine punishment, Rodele was not permitted to let go of his consciousness.
(Right... today was the Magic Hunt Festival. I entered the plains with Goura and Tony to hunt monsters...)
"Guh... Goura! Tony!"
Rodele squeezed air from his lungs and called out the names of his two followers.
"Are you not here!? Hurry—get over here!"
Despite their lord calling for them, the two retainers showed no sign of appearing.
Rodele's expression twisted in frustration at the two unreliable men, but he still mustered his strength and shouted.
"It is I who calls! Hurry up and come out...!"
He tried to move his body, but the pain was so intense he could barely move at all.
Even so, he managed to raise his neck and scan his surroundings... and in a spot slightly away, he spotted a familiar large build.
"Goura!"
That was the back of his retainer—Goura, son of Count Dora.
The muscular back and closely cropped hair at the back of the head were unmistakable.
Goura stood beyond the thicket that had grown on the plains, with his back turned toward Rodele.
"Goura, what are you doing!? I'm over here!"
"............"
"Hurry up and come help me! Can't you hear me!?"
"............"
Rodele screamed desperately, but Goura didn't so much as flinch.
They were only a few meters apart. There was no way he couldn't hear.
"Goura...?"
After calling his name several times, Rodele finally noticed something was off.
Even as he stared suspiciously at his retainer's back—wondering what had triggered it—Goura's body suddenly toppled backward.
"Hk...!?"
Goura toppled toward Rodele's direction, but… his body was missing everything below the waist—only his upper half remained.
Seeing his retainer's form as though the lower body had been dissolved by strong acid, Rodele felt nausea surge up in his throat.
"Gou…ra… This has to be a joke… right?"
Of course, Goura—now reduced to only his upper body—did not respond.
His two lifeless eyes stared blankly up at the sky.
"That's right… I had certainly…"
The death of someone close shook him to the core, and that jolt became the catalyst for his memories to resurface.
Rodele had been cutting down monsters as he pressed deeper and deeper into the plains, eventually reaching the border line that was strictly off-limits.
Beyond that point lay the territory of a magic beast called "Sabnock," the master of the demon realm.
He had been warned sternly during the briefing before the Magic Hunt Festival that he must never enter.
*"Hmph… How pointless."* But Rodele scoffed at such prohibitions.
No matter how powerful a monster Sabnock might be… in the end, it was still just a beast. Nothing more than one insignificant monster.
With an arrogant heart, Rodele concluded with certainty that it was no match for someone who had been chosen by God and blessed with exceptional talent.
*"Entering Sabnock's territory is forbidden… but if I don't actually go in, no one can complain, can they?"* Rodele ordered his two lackeys to produce a particular magic item.
It was something that Marquis Eiger, his patron, had prepared for him when he joined the Magic Hunt Festival… a torch that possessed an extremely powerful *"monster-lure"* effect.
A *"monster-lure,"* as the name implied, was a magic item that did the opposite of a *"monster-repellent"*—it drew monsters toward it.
The smoke that emanated from the torch had the effect of strongly stimulating a monster's will to fight, making it aggressive and luring it closer.
When Goura, his aide, lit the "monster-lure," red smoke billowed from it.
And then… the change came swiftly. With heavy, rumbling footsteps like the groaning of the earth, a six-legged colossal magic beast emerged from deep within the plains.
"GYAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Appearing alongside a piercing shriek that threatened to rupture eardrums was a lion of such immense size one had to crane their neck to look up at it.
It had six legs, and atop its head, a massive, jagged mouth was flanked by numerous eyeballs that glowed a piercing red.
The saliva drooling from its mouth onto the ground reeked abominably. Every drop that struck the earth caused the grass and trees to corrode and rot, scattering death in its wake.
The Corrosive Devil Lion — Sabnock.
The lord of the demon realm that held dominion over the Sabnock Plains had appeared.
"Wha—…!"
"This is…!"
Even Rodele, formidable as he was, froze at the emergence of what could only be called the lord of the demon realm.
But he quickly remembered his purpose and began channeling his mana.
"Good — let's do this! I'll kill that thing and show everyone that I alone am the true king!"
A catastrophic magic beast that every past king, including the previous one, had been unable to subjugate, left to roam unchecked through the ages.
It was precisely to destroy this creature — to demonstrate to all that Rodele Aiwood was the next king and a hero for the ages — that he had entered the Magic Hunt Festival.
Rodele charged at the colossal magic beast with his two aides at his side, bold and unflinching… and this was the result.
Rodele lay sprawled on the ground, every bone in his body broken. One of his aides had already perished. The other's fate was unknown.
"Why… how did it come to this…"
For perhaps the first time in his life, Rodele — from the very depths of his heart — regretted his actions.
"I was… supposed to be the chosen one… Yes. That's how it has to be. Grandmother told me so herself…!"
His grandmother — the queen dowager — had told him so.
That Rodele was a hero. That he was one of God's chosen, a man who could move history itself.
He had lived his entire life believing those words… Could this truly be the end of someone favored by the heavens?
The queen dowager had never been wrong. Not once.
She was always right. That was precisely why she had been blessed with so many followers.
"Could it be… that I was… wrong…?"
Had he been wrong all along?
Was he nothing more than one of the faceless masses — not chosen at all?
Then what had his life been up to now?
What about all the people he had trampled underfoot, believing he was special and therefore entitled to do as he pleased?
"What… am I…?"
"Oh, so this is where you were, Your Highness Rodele."
"……!"
"I've been looking for you, my lord."
A familiar voice called out to him.
He turned his head to find the source — a middle-aged man with a calm expression, Marquis Eiger, looking down at him.
"I've come to escort you. Allow me to lead the way. Let's leave the plains immediately."
Marquis Eiger spoke in a gentle tone as he cast healing magic on Rodele.
A complete recovery would be difficult right here and now… but it would at least serve as emergency treatment.
Marquis Eiger finished treating his wounds, then hoisted Rodele onto his back and started walking across the plains.
"W-Wait. Wait!"
Rodele shouted in a panic.
"Goura's body is still over there... and Tony is missing! I can't just leave them behind and escape on my own..."
"Ah... the son of Count Goura Dora, you mean."
Marquis Eiger cast his gaze toward Goura's upper body, lying some distance away.
"To be able to die obeying Your Highness's command... what an enviable fate. I'm sure he was happy."
"Happy...? You call *this* how he died... happy?"
"Yes. He was able to offer his life for Your Highness, who was acknowledged by the great Queen Dowager Majesty. Could there be any greater happiness!"
Marquis Eiger declared this emphatically, his breathing heavy.
"The son of Viscount Tony Boyle was also being used as bait for monsters over there... but I'm sure that was his true desire as well. It's nothing Your Highness needs to worry about. You need only think about living as you see fit, as a king... for that is the Queen Dowager Majesty's wish."
"...!"
Rodele, riding on Marquis Eiger's back, couldn't see his face.
But from his voice alone, he could tell that it was drenched in ecstasy and madness.
(*What* is this man... what on earth is he talking about...?)
At that moment, Rodele realized for the first time just how abnormal those who worshipped him as their lord truly were.
They invoked the name of the Queen Dowager... his grandmother, and were clearly far beyond the bounds of reason, as if they had lost all sanity.
(Can I... really just keep going forward, trusting them... trusting this man, trusting grandmother's words...?)
Carried along by Marquis Eiger, Rodele questioned himself.
He had finally come to realize his own foolishness... but perhaps, for him, it might have been happier not to have noticed.
Sabnock, summoned by Rodele, left the depths of the plains and headed straight for the outer edge.
Driven by Sabnock, other monsters also surged toward the entrance of the plains.
The devastation this created. Before the corpse of a friend who became a casualty, Rodele was crushed by the first true guilt of his life.