The Banished Swordsman and the Easy-going Demon King ~Free people change the world~

After Gandalk’s death, the “Demon Lord” of the Astia Kingdom was effectively dethroned. The demons who served the tyrannical Demon Lord gradually disappeared.

While there were still the occasional demons preying on humans, they were no longer an absolute threat to the human world. They had become just another mundane calamity.

Another significant change took place when many demons, driven by their own will, left Astia. Their existence, free from malevolence toward humans, marked a new era of reconciliation with the human world. It was a miracle brought about by the death of the worst Demon Lord, Gandalk.

Demons were by no means absolute evil. The world, over a long period of time, gradually accepted this fact. At the end of a long era of darkness, the world began to fill with light.

Then, 100 years passed. The world, which had been enjoying an era of peace, was shaken.

A new Demon Lord had appeared, taking the throne of the Astia Demon Lord, a title long forgotten as a legend. After 100 years of silence, the world, which had already forgotten the fear, was now thrown into turmoil, realizing the danger of this new world.

Many nations that had once welcomed demons were now terrified by their existence.

However, in any era, heroes emerge within the human world. Powerful individuals who uphold titles long forgotten in times of peace rise to the occasion to vanquish the new Demon Lord. Their goal is to restore peace to the world.

The question remains: Who will defeat the Demon Lord, and what kind of destruction does the Demon Lord, who broke the 100-year silence, aim to bring upon the world?

The atmosphere in the room once again turned frigid.

Even the hushed voices ceased to exist. In this overly tense atmosphere, Merifis’s cold voice rang out.

“Those old folks or maybe those folks around there, they are demons, aren’t they? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know, did you?”

Faced with a gaze colder than words, Luct struggled to find a response. A harsh word was thrown at Luct.

“Keeping quiet won’t resolve this. Or do you not want to answer?”

“Say something, Luct Zelias.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Luct’s words, after a heavy silence, caused a stir among those around them. But Luct finally realized the condemning gazes that were thrust upon him.

Everyone was looking at him, with eyes of disdain or fear. Everyone except the one person who sat by the window.

He understood that he no longer belonged here. The certainty of that belief, along with the coldness in the room, was more than enough.

“I didn’t want to say this, but I guess I have no choice.”

Merifis, with his arms crossed, muttered, and he addressed the downcast Luct.

“The gap you leave is undoubtedly painful, but we aren’t planning to rush back to Astia. We’ll take our time to find another companion.”

“Yeah.”

Sopiora chimed in, smiling and nodding.

“For now, a human swordsman.”

“This Armenic, isn’t that your birthplace, Luct? It might be a good idea to return to your family. They’ll be thrilled.”

“It’s alright, it might suit you.”

Sopiora’s teasing words were followed by a chuckle from those around.

“Well, you should still get your share of the money from today”

Thud!

With a resounding crash, the table broke. Luct’s realization that it was caused by his fist silenced the mocking voices around him.

“I understand.”

Saying that, Luct rose, carrying his belongings and sword, and headed for the exit. As he walked away, Merifis threw one final comment.

“Take care, Luct, the human-demon!”

Luct didn’t respond. Without looking back, he opened the door and left the tavern.

And that was the end.

He left, and in a matter of seconds, the tavern had returned to its usual bustling atmosphere.

It was as if Luct’s existence had never been there, to begin with.

Looking up at the night sky, Luct’s gaze turned back to the light of the tavern only once. He didn’t shed a tear, nor did he speak a single word of resentment. He bit his lip and turned forward.

His shadow, leaving that place, extended into the deserted night.

The night, called “spring” in name only, was cold.