What happens when the Demon King is defeated?
Will the world finally find peace, and will the hero be remembered as a hero?
**
Noir Valenhardt and his party had succeeded in defeating the Demon King after ten years filled with blood, tears, and countless losses. They crossed continents, breached the infernal palace, and paid a heavy price for this victory.
The Kingdom of Aetherion held the grandest celebration in its history. The capital, Solheim, was overflowing with thousands of humans cheering, dancing, and singing songs of triumph.
The streets were covered in flower petals, and lanterns floated across the night sky. That cheer was called the Liberation Festival, a celebration of the end of the dark era and the death of the Demon King.
On the other side—
Noir and his party sat together in the royal hall. A long table was adorned with luxurious dishes: roasted meat from the Salvaria mountains, rare wine from the Lyra valley, and silver sweets from the East.
They were truly welcomed with honor. Noir and his party exchanged glances and nodded in relief.
Other than them, there were also—
King Edric Solaris III, ruler of the Kingdom of Aetherion, known as charismatic yet full of calculations. His face was adorned with a warm smile.
The kingdom's general, Velkar Thorne, the supreme commander of Aetherion's army. He was the strongest after the hero's party and had contributed countless merits to the kingdom.
The Grand Princess Seraphina Solaris, heir to the throne and Aetherion's chief diplomat. A girl of stunning beauty, with skin as pale as snow and charisma as dazzling as her father's.
Archbishop Maelien Dross, leader of the Church of Light, whose influence nearly rivaled that of the king. At the age of eighty-five, he still walked and carried out many duties on his own.
And lastly, Nivalen Gun, the kingdom's royal advisor and keeper of the highest arcane secrets. He was the mastermind behind the kingdom's defenses and headmaster of Whitelord Academy of Magic.
The king rose to his feet. "You are the hero who has saved the world, Sir Noir." He bowed slightly in respect. "For that, I will grant you a great honor. Starting today... you shall bear the title of Duke of Aetherion."
Everyone in the hall clapped their hands. Noir rose and gave his respect as well. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my very best."
He then sat back down. The king remained standing and continued to bestow noble titles upon the other four members of the hero's party.
They were all granted nobility and high positions. Their faces shone with joy—ten years of struggle finally rewarded.
After a few words of wisdom, the king sat down again, his smile still as warm as before.
He raised a glass of beer. "A toast to the victory of the hero's party!" he declared.
The others raised their glasses high. "For the heroes!" they cheered.
**
That night, everyone drank more beer than their bodies could take. Some vomited, others collapsed unconscious. The palace servants quickly carried them to their chambers.
"I will escort you, Hero," said one of the maids politely.
Noir raised his hand slightly. "No. I can still walk on my own."
With staggering steps and a swaying body, Noir turned and headed back to his chamber. After only a few steps, he nearly fell but forced himself forward.
Slowly, he walked through the long corridors. His chamber was quite far, tucked away in a corner.
But as he walked, he caught something unusual—a glimpse of General Velkar Thorne and Archbishop Maelien Dross, moving quickly with several fully armored soldiers.
Noir frowned. They weren't heading toward their own rooms. Instead... they were walking straight toward the chambers of the other party members.
"Why are they going there?" Noir muttered.
He followed them cautiously. Their steps were brisk, as though in great haste. Noir almost lost them but managed to keep up.
Then he froze. Velkar Thorne and Archbishop Maelien Dross stopped in front of Violet's chamber—the main sorceress of the hero's party.
"What are they doing in front of Violet's room?"
Noir walked closer. Just as he was about to ask, they entered Violet's chamber without hesitation.
Noir's heartbeat quickened. He rushed to the door and tried to open it, but... it was locked from within.
Panic surged through his chest. Desperately, Noir rammed the door with his shoulder, but it would not budge.
"Damn it! What's going on in there?!" Noir shouted, his mind filling with dread. "Open up, bastards!"
He channeled mana into his hands, intending to blow the door apart, when suddenly a voice echoed behind him.
"You should not be here, Hero."
Noir spun around. Nivalen Gun, the royal advisor, stood there. He wasn't alone—four instructors from Voltmagus Academy of Magic accompanied him.
"Why are you—"
In an instant, a massive seal ignited in the air—blue and violet light spread, forming runes that enveloped the corridor. It grew, covering the entire royal palace.
Noir's eyes widened in shock. He recognized this magic. It was a high-level sealing spell, one that severed all connections to mana.
His body grew heavy. His eyes went wide as he realized he could no longer feel mana within him.
"You should have stayed in your chamber," Nivalen said calmly. "Waiting for the day of your execution. Yet here you are, walking into it yourself."
Before Noir could react further, the soldiers charged. He fought back with bare hands—his combat instincts still sharp.
He managed to knock down one, then two. But more pressed in. Nivalen himself joined the fight, and shockingly... he could still use magic.
Nivalen raised his hand. "Flame Destroyer!" he shouted.
A torrent of fire surged toward Noir. He tried to dodge, but one of the academy instructors, whose leg Noir had broken, grabbed his ankle.
His movement was halted. The flames engulfed his body. His flesh seared under the inferno. He staggered, barely standing.
"Why... are you doing this?" Noir asked hoarsely.
Nivalen smiled. "You and your companions would steal the hearts of the people. The king does not like that." He walked closer. "And besides, you are far too powerful. If not destroyed, you could stage a coup."
Noir's face twisted in disbelief. The reason sounded absurd, senseless. Neither he nor his companions had ever thought of rebellion.
"You're fabricating excuses. How pathetic," Noir spat.
"Believe what you will. But you all must die." Nivalen raised his hand again. "Sword Light!"
A radiant blade formed and thrust forward, piercing Noir's back and bursting through his chest.
Noir collapsed. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the floor. His vision blurred. He gave a bitter smile.
"So this... is how my deeds are repaid."
Slowly, his eyes drifted shut—but then, something strange appeared before him. Something he had never seen before.
[Condition fulfilled.]
[Death confirmed.]
[Reincarnation process beginning…]
[You have been chosen as: Skeleton.]