He had fought through so many battles.
He had cut down so many enemies.
He had shed so much blood.
And now he was here.
“Demon King Beria.”
Ten years by the continental calendar since the Demon King’s army began its invasion.
The world was on the verge of falling to the Demon King’s relentless advance.
The hero — summoned three years ago as humanity’s last hope as it marched down the road to ruin before that very invasion.
The hero — Ryuto Shinonome — leveled a sword glowing blue-green at the Demon King.
The magic sword Moonlight.
That massive blade, braced by a body well beyond what you’d expect from a twenty-one-year-old, was pointed straight at her.
“Well, hello there, Hero Shinonome. You’ve made it quite far. I’ll give you that.”
Demon King Beria had the appearance of a child of about fourteen, with striking crimson eyes and long black hair the color of a raven’s wing. That very slender body was wrapped in a black robe.
Sensing something unfathomable, Shinonome gripped Moonlight tight.
“Moonlight — deploy.”
From a single blade — from the empty space beside it, fanning open like a folding fan, seven more blades of the same shape and color appeared. New Moon, Crescent, First Quarter, Thirteenth Night, Full Moon, Sixteenth Night, Last Quarter, Moonlight — this was the true form of the magic sword Moonlight.
“Let me be direct, Hero Shinonome. I have no intention of fighting you.”
“What?”
Beria spoke in an amused tone to Shinonome, whose eyes still held killing intent.
“You’re going to die at this rate, you know? You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
Three years since he’d been summoned as the hero.
He’d nearly died more times than he could count from food that didn’t agree with him, water that wrecked his stomach when he drank it, improperly preserved rations. But even compared to all that, his situation now was far worse.
It was a miracle Shinonome’s heart was still beating, that’s how debilitated he was.
The magic sword Moonlight and his physical enhancement abilities let him hide it, but ever since he’d been summoned to this other world, Shinonome’s body had done nothing but deteriorate — and no matter how much rest he got, no matter how much he ate, he kept wasting away.
But no matter which renowned sorcerer he consulted, no one could identify the cause. The last time a hero had been summoned from another world was over a thousand years ago, and all that was known from that time was that the hero had perished after fulfilling their role.
Shinonome had suspected assassination — a political plot to strip the hero of any leverage — but humanity hadn’t had that kind of breathing room, not before the Demon King had even been defeated.
“I’ll tell you the cause.”
Beria rose to her feet.
“The coordinates of your soul still point to your world. Your body is rejecting being here as ‘wrong.’ That’s why you keep deteriorating. If you remain in this world, your soul will eventually cease to exist.”
And then, Beria continued:
“Even if you defeat me, the people of this world have no way of sending you back to your own.”
“Yeah. Someone told me that.”
The chairman of the Human Alliance had told him: Hero, we sincerely apologize, but we have no means of returning you to your world. However, should you defeat the Demon King, we guarantee you a life of comfort and wanting for nothing, so we humbly ask—
“So then. What do you say we call it my defeat, and head to your world together?”
“…Are you trying to manipulate me?”
“Not at all. I’m completely serious. Between your abilities as a hero, your physical enhancement, and the power of that magic sword Moonlight, you’re barely clinging to life. But you’ve got three months left, at best.”
You’ll die even if you defeat me, Beria said.
“But. But, you see. I can save you. I’ll fuse our souls together and make the jump to your world. I’ll be freed from this tiresome role of Demon King, the world will be freed from the threat of the Demon King, and you’ll be freed from the fear of death.”
“Is that… possible?”
“Absolutely. Trust me.”
Beria said this and smiled gently.
“But what’s the point of taking you with me?”
“That’s why I told you. I was sick and tired of the role of Demon King. I had it forced on me when I didn’t even want it. But the contract only held as long as I remained in this world — so if I simply ceased to be in this world, problem solved.”
I’m a hired Demon King, just like you, Beria explained.
“So what’ll it be? You can kill me here, claim the glory of having slain the Demon King, and then die. Or you can deceive the people of this world and disappear with me. Take your pick.”
“Like that’s even a question.”
Shinonome sheathed the magic sword Moonlight.
“I’m going home! To Japan! To my hometown! I am not dying in a place like this! There’s no ramen, not even onigiri, no miso soup! And more than anything—”
Shinonome declared, trembling with feeling:
“The people here barely ever bathe, so they STINK!”
Yes — perhaps because they were being pushed to the brink, but humanity’s side had largely given up on bathing, and the body odor situation had gotten truly dire.
“Then it’s settled. Come now. Let’s go together — to the place where you belong.”
With that, Beria rose up on her tiptoes and cupped Shinonome’s cheek in her hands.
And as Shinonome bent down at her urging, Beria pressed her lips to his. At that instant, the world lurched and warped.
After a few seconds of dizziness, Beria’s hands fell away from his cheek.
“We’re back! This is your hometown! It’s incredible!”
“Huh? Wait— what?”
He had no idea where they were.
But he could see familiar Japanese text.
Except it was on gaudy neon signs, or projected as floating holograms.
His hometown of Kaimiya City, Kanagawa Prefecture was supposed to be a quiet residential neighborhood, not a bustling commercial district.
And holograms? He’d only ever seen those in movies.
Then a foul smell hit his nose. Chemical. Industrial.
The fact that it was drifting from a food stall bearing the words DELICIOUS RAMEN gave Shinonome a feeling close to despair.
The signs were in Japanese if you looked carefully, but it was mostly just short strings of Japanese words like cheap, natural, safe — mixed with what was probably Chinese.
“Is this really Japan? Hey, Beria?”
“Amazing, amazing! Look, look! What’s that thing flying through the sky?!”
Beria was staring in excitement at what was clearly a military aircraft cutting through the sky. On closer inspection it wasn’t a helicopter but a tiltrotor, and emblazoned on its hull were the words Oi Integrated Security.
A military aircraft operated by a private company? What was going on? Or was it actually civilian?
Then Shinonome’s stomach turned and he looked down — and a rat the size of a two-headed adult cat poked its face out of the sewer and scurried away.
He threw up.
His physical condition was supposed to have improved, but he felt sick.
No. Wait. Maybe this wasn’t Japan. China had been in the news for severe pollution, and maybe—
Shinonome looked up and his eyes landed on an old weathered utility pole with no power lines attached.
It read: Kaimiya City, Kanagawa Prefecture, Chuo Ward, XX-cho 666-13.
That address was where his family home was.
In its place now stood a six-story building bristling with Chinese-language signage.
He threw up again.
This was Japan. But what had happened to Japan?
Around the time the stench was gradually starting to bother him less, he noticed a group of dead-eyed men approaching from down the street.
He sensed killing intent instantly and pulled the magic sword Moonlight from the empty space.
“The hell? You playing samurai, kid?”
“Samurai’s got parts we can strip and sell!”
“——————!”
He couldn’t make out what the last man said, but it was probably a foreign language.
“Listen up. I’m in an absolutely terrible mood right now. Get lost.”
Shinonome said this to the roughly ten men closing in on him.
“Cocky little shit. We’ll blow your damn head off, chop you up and sell the pieces.”
The men said this and raised their guns.
He wondered briefly whether Japan’s gun laws had always been this lax, then Shinonome deployed the magic sword Moonlight. Eight blades fanned out, pointed at the men.
“That wire?”
“Just take him apart already. This ware’s not getting me high anymore. We need to source something new.”
The men said this and pulled their triggers.
……………………