"Hahahahaha! Is this really all the Heroes are capable of?!"
The Demon King's roar echoed throughout the ruins.
"You mobilized thousands of troops, and even that wasn't enough to make me use my full power."
"At the very least... we defeated the Demon Executive Forces. The Seven Deadly Sins..."
said a blond-haired man, his body swaying, yet still standing.
The Demon King let out a low laugh.
"Executives? Seven sins?"
His smile widened.
"Don't make me laugh. They are nothing more than creatures to whom I granted a sliver of power... and who then played at being a group without my command."
His eyes narrowed coldly.
"If I wished... I could create seven, ten—or even more—beings like them whenever I pleased."
FWOOSH—!
Something pierced through him from behind.
The tip of a spear emerged from the Demon King's chest.
Time seemed to stop.
"W-What... have you done...?"
Slowly, he turned his head to look at the figure behind him.
But the answer came from another direction.
"No particular reason."
A man sat casually atop a pile of rubble, his chin resting on his left hand.
The fingers of his right hand moved lightly, controlling the spear from a distance.
"I'm just tired... of this war never ending."
His gaze was flat.
"And you've just given me a reason to end it."
"You bastard—! After this, I'll make you regre—"
The world suddenly spun.
He saw his own body... still standing.
Without its head.
—
Everything sank into darkness.
The man slowly rose to his feet, then walked toward the remaining heroes.
"As agreed. I killed him."
He lowered himself slightly until he was level with the blond-haired man.
"Now... it's your turn."
The man took a heavy breath.
"Very well... I am Arthur Leonheart, leader of the Hero—"
His body collapsed.
Silence.
The man stared at him for a moment, then let out a sigh.
"At least... there is still one hero I can trust."
He turned around.
And vanished.
That day became legend.
In the records of history, it was the Heroes who were said to have defeated the Demon King.
—END—
"What the hell is with this game?! Why is the one who killed the Demon King actually 'Sloth,' one of the Seven Deadly Sins?! And why does the ending say the Heroes were the ones who defeated him?!"
A young man hurled his headset aside.
"Right? The ending is complete trash," said the friend beside him.
The room was packed with rows of computers lined up tightly together, their screens casting an endless flickering blue glow.
The rapid clatter of keyboards, the nonstop clicking of mice, and the shouts of gamers blended into a constant wall of noise.
Some people lounged lazily in their chairs, focused on their games.
Others yelled in frustration, cursing teammates who were who-knows-where.
The smell of instant noodles and sachet coffee hung in the air, mixed with the heat from machines that never stopped running.
The fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered faintly, as though exhausted from trying to keep up with the rhythm of the place.
In one corner of the room stood a glass booth that contrasted sharply with the chaos outside.
It was wider, cleaner, and far more luxurious than the other computer stations.
There was only one person inside.
The owner of the internet café himself—Mikoto—who, instead of supervising the place, was busy playing games.
BANG!
The desk overturned.
The CPU crashed hard onto the floor, while the monitor flickered for a moment before finally going dark.
"Idiotic team! Blind mapless morons!"
A woman immediately rushed in as soon as she heard the noise.
"What happened, sir?"
She let out a quiet sigh, as though incidents like this had already become part of her routine.
"This stupid game! Why do I always get toxic teammates?! Ana, replace this PC with a new one! Tonight I'm going to challenge him one-on-one!"
Mikoto stood and casually walked toward the exit as if nothing had happened.
Ana rubbed her temples.
"But, sir... we're out of money."
Mikoto's steps stopped.
"Then... just sell my gold."
"The last of your gold was already sold to buy Pukimon cards."
A brief silence.
"Then... how much do we still have?"
Sweat began to appear on his face.
Ana opened the notebook in her hands.
"Nothing. We can't even pay next month's electricity and internet bills."
She looked at him flatly.
"And you still haven't paid my salary."
That night, the two of them sat facing each other at a small dining table behind the internet café.
Quiet.
Far too quiet.
There was no warm aroma of freshly cooked food.
No side dishes.
Only two cups of instant noodles—no egg, no meat.
Mikoto stared at the noodles in front of him for quite a while.
"...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"Why... is this all we have?"
Ana answered without expression.
"Because we don't have enough money to buy ingredients."
Silence fell again.
Mikoto's stomach growled softly.
He leaned back in his chair and roughly rubbed his face.
"This doesn't make any sense..." he muttered.
"Our internet café is always full. From noon until dawn. Sometimes people even have to line up."
He looked outside toward the rows of computers that were still glowing.
"A business like this... should be extremely profitable."
Ana ate her noodles slowly, then replied in a flat tone.
"I've told you many times already, sir."
Mikoto glanced at her.
"The profit from the café is only enough to cover your daily meals."
She opened her small notebook and flipped through a few pages.
"But the PC damage you keep causing, maintenance costs, electricity, internet, and employee salaries..."
She lifted her gaze.
"...all of that is paid from your personal funds."
Mikoto fell silent.
Ana continued mercilessly.
"In short, this internet café operates at a loss every single day—because your expenses are far greater than its income."
Silence.
Mikoto stared blankly ahead.
"...Huh?"
Ana closed her notebook.
"In other words, sir—"
She pointed toward the café floor outside.
"The busier this place gets, the faster your money disappears."
—
Mikoto froze.
A few seconds passed.
"...Wait."
His face turned pale.
"So... all this time, I've been working hard—"
"You haven't been working, sir. You've been playing games."
"...—and I've actually been going bankrupt faster?"
Ana nodded slowly.
"Yes."
—
Laughter drifted faintly in from outside.
Players shouting, keyboards clacking, and coins jingling once again filled the air.
The world carried on as usual.
Except—
inside that small room,
one internet café owner had just realized that his life... was truly a mess.
—
Mikoto lowered his head, holding it in both hands.
"...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"In that case... what are we eating tonight?"
Ana thought for a moment.
"...Instant noodles."
Mikoto remained hunched over, his head supported by both hands.
"...We need money."
Ana nodded.
"That's right, sir."
She gently closed her notebook, then said bluntly,
"In that case... just sell the internet café."
—
Silence.
—
Mikoto immediately lifted his head.
"No."
His answer was firm. Without hesitation.
"Anything but this café."
His gaze was sharp, completely different from the lazy expression he wore earlier.
"I built it from nothing."
Ana looked at him for a moment, then let out a sigh.
"...All right."
She changed her approach.
"Then we'll have to find another source of income."
"A part-time job, delivery work, operator work, or—"
"No."
Ana closed her eyes for a moment.
"Sir, I wasn't finished."
"There's no need. The time and effort required aren't worth the return."
"That's just how reality works."
"Then that's not what I'm looking for."
Ana was beginning to look annoyed.
"Then what exactly do you want?"
Mikoto raised three fingers.
"Fast."
"Easy."
"And high-paying."
Ana stared at him blankly.
"...Sir."
"Yes?"
"If jobs like that existed, everyone would already be rich."
Mikoto leaned back.
"So there isn't one?"
Ana fell silent for a moment.
"...There is one."
Mikoto turned toward her at once.
"What is it?"
Ana gave a short answer.
"A Hunter."
—
"The kind that goes into dungeons?"
"Yes."
"The kind that dies a lot?"
"Yes."
"The kind that gets paid a lot?"
Ana nodded.
"Yes."
Mikoto narrowed his eyes.
"...Interesting."
Ana immediately added,
"But it's dangerous."
"Anything that makes big money is dangerous."
Ana leaned forward slightly.
"Ever since the first Gate appeared twenty years ago, the world has changed."
"Monsters come out of dungeons, and only Hunters can fight them."
She folded her arms.
"People who awakened special abilities."
"The ranks?"
"E to S."
"If you're at least Rank D... your life is basically set."
Silence.
Mikoto tapped the table lightly.
"...All right."
He suddenly stood up.
"Let's sign up right now."
—
A few minutes later.
—
They stood in front of a large building with the words:
National Hunter Association
Dark.
Silent.
The doors were closed.
—
Mikoto stared at the operating hours sign beside the entrance.
"...Closed?"
Ana glanced at the time on her phone.
"Business hours end at five in the afternoon, sir."
Mikoto slowly turned his head.
"...What time is it now?"
"Half past six."
—
Silence.
—
Mikoto let out a long sigh.
"...Fine. We'll come back tomorrow."
Ana fell quiet.
"Sir."
"What?"
"Tomorrow is Sunday."
"...So?"
"The Hunter Association is closed on Sundays too."
—
Silence.
—
The night breeze blew softly.
—
Mikoto's expression slowly changed.
"...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"Tomorrow..."
He looked up at the sky.
"...what are we going to eat?"
—
A few seconds of silence.
—
"ANAAA!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO EAT TOMORROW?!"
His scream echoed down the empty street.