"Young man, do you wish to become a Hero?"
The melodious evening bell echoed through the city as the setting sun cast its slanted rays and birds returned to their nests. A group of children chattered as they crossed the slate-paved streets; their lively laughter, intertwined with the tolling bell, formed a common twilight scene for this city.
Initially, none of them noticed the suspicious young man standing in the shadows of the street corner. They walked straight past him, talking and laughing, until the young man let out several loud coughs. Only then did the children's small heads turn toward him in unison.
"Sir, are you feeling unwell?" the oldest child asked with concern.
"No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to ask if you'd like to become Heroes," the young man said, flashing them a warm smile.
He wore a long grey robe and a pointed wizard's hat, with a wooden staff embedded with a gemstone leaning against his shoulder. He looked young, yet his hair was a silver-white, like fresh snow. The sunset bathed him in a layer of mysterious, holy light, making him look like one of those profound Great Sages from Heroic legends.
If this story were truly a Heroic legend, the next development would be: "Under the guidance of the wise Sage, the youth embarks on an adventurous journey, seeking companions, honing his skills, defeating the Demon King, and saving the world."
Unfortunately, this story was born a bit late. It arrived slightly after the era of ordinary Heroic legends—not by much, only about a hundred years or so.
In the Age of Heroes, this city had been a quiet border town with curling chimney smoke and herds of cattle and sheep, where people casually emptied chamber pots onto the streets.
But now, factories rose from the ground, chimneys spewed industrial smoke, roaring trains thundered through the city, and flush toilets had entered thousands of households.
These children weren't some simple country youths, either. They were students from a nearby public school, just finishing classes. Their daily lives consisted of cursing the homework their teachers assigned while fooling around with classmates; their heads held nothing but thoughts of what was for dinner.
Thus, the development of this story shifted from a "Heroic Legend" into this:
"Sir, the 'Hero' you're talking about—is it the kind that goes to dungeons or great labyrinths to kill monsters?" one of the children asked.
"Exactly!" the silver-haired youth said excitedly. "You will face unprecedented challenges, but you will also gain unparalleled glory! You will defeat the demon race, dispel the darkness, save the world, and win the heart of the Princess—"
"But sir," the boy interrupted, "isn't that way too dangerous? Everyone knows you could lose your life in an instant while adventuring."
The other children nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, what era is this? Who still becomes a 'Hero' or whatever?"
"Besides, there aren't any princesses now, right? Doesn't our country only have one Prince? And he's already eighty or ninety years old."
"Does this 'Hero' job you're talking about include workers' compensation insurance? If not, forget it. My dad says factories are starting to buy insurance for workers now. Being a Hero isn't as good as finding a job in a factory."
The silver-haired youth's face stiffened. "But you have been chosen by destiny..."
"Then please tell 'Destiny' that we have an exam tomorrow, so we won't be being Heroes."
"Mama said I can't talk to suspicious strangers; I'll get kidnapped and sent to work as a slave on a cotton plantation."
The children lost interest, leaving the suspicious stranger behind as they headed toward the other end of the street, chattering away.
The silver-haired youth chased them for a few steps, shouting, "Wait, young men!" but not a single child turned back for him.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and night fell over the city known as the "Capital of Academics," Norelia. Carriages passed by the silver-haired youth, interspersed with a few motorcars—luxury items the local upper class had specially bought from the Royal Capital. The newly installed electric streetlights flickered on one by one, making the "holy and mysterious" glow on the youth's body pale in comparison, while casting his lonely shadow very, very long.
He sighed, shook his head helplessly, and walked slowly toward the outskirts of the city, leaning on his gemstone staff.
He walked all the way past the old city walls of Norelia to a fork in the road in the suburbs. There stood an ancient signpost pointing in three different directions.
Standing under the signpost were a man and a woman. The man was tall and handsome, and the woman was shapely and graceful; both had bat-like wings and long, thin tails. If a clergyman from the Temple happened to pass by at this moment, he would surely whip out a bottle of holy water and scream, "Succubus! Incubus!"
Seeing Lorne, the two demons knelt simultaneously. "Lord Demon King!"
The silver-haired youth took off his pointed wizard hat and tossed it to the succubus, then threw the gemstone staff to the incubus. He waved his hand tiredly. "Get up. How many times have I told you? We don't do that feudal stuff. Also, don't call me 'Lord Demon King' outside the dungeon. Just call me 'Lorne'."
"Yes! Demon... I mean, Lord Lorne." The succubus was extremely respectful. "Did you find any good prospects for Heroes in the city?"
Lorne gave her a sorrowful look. The answer was self-evident.
Coming from Earth, he never imagined that being a "Hero"—a grand profession reserved for protagonists in novels and games—would one day decline into a sunset industry.
In his previous life, Lorne was a common office drone. He died suddenly after working 72 hours straight. His only wish before dying was to be reincarnated into a better life and have things a bit easier next time.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a magnificent black marble hall, with a large crowd of strange creatures kneeling before him.
Bleached skeletons, furry werewolves, "scantily clad" succubi... and that large, semi-transparent blob in the back was probably a slime?
Fine. Overworked office worker dies, transmigrates to another world—an old trope.
If there were gods in this world, they had mercifully granted Lorne's wish. Not only did they give him a new life, but they also dropped him into a fantasy dungeon as the "Demon King" of the monsters.
Rounding up, this meant escaping the working class and becoming the boss!
Unfortunately, Lorne's period of smugness lasted less than five minutes.
After listening to the monsters' simple "work report," he realized with horror that the gods had played a cruel joke on him.
Like most fantasy worlds, this world had many labyrinths teeming with monsters. The dungeon he was in was one of them.
The dungeon was named the "Gloom Catacombs," filled with lethal traps and terrifying monsters. Only the greatest Heroes dared to set foot here, and even they often faced a narrow escape from death.
Countless Heroes had met their end here. Their equipment—sharp swords, sturdy armor, gold and silver jewelry—naturally became the monsters' trophies.
To reclaim these "lost treasures," more Heroes came in droves, subsequently contributing even more trophies like their predecessors.
The monsters even learned how to harvest sustainably. They never killed the Heroes; instead, they stripped them bone-dry and dumped them in the wilderness, waiting for them to make a comeback.
This "virtuous cycle" allowed the monsters to live comfortably without ever leaving their home.
However, ever since humans invented that thing called the "Industrial Revolution," everything changed.
Young people would rather work in factories than be Heroes. And without Heroes, the dungeon lost its source of income.
Monsters didn't engage in production; they could only survive by selling captured equipment to non-human races like dwarves, goblins, and fairies. The result of living off their savings was increasing poverty. Eventually, even the previous Demon King couldn't stand the miserable life. He abandoned his loyal subordinates, took the last of the dungeon's valuables, and ran away.
Driven by desperation, the monsters decided to go all out and summon a new Demon King from the Demon Realm, hoping this new ruler could turn the tide.
Lorne was the unlucky guy they summoned.
At first, Lorne didn't believe it: Being a Hero is such an interesting profession, how could no one want to do it? If it were him, he'd sell everything he owned to scrape together a set of gear and embark on an epic adventure!
So, he disguised himself as a Sage, snuck into the city near the Gloom Catacombs, and conducted some "market research."
He went to six schools and met hundreds of kids, yet not a single one showed the slightest bit of interest in being a "Hero."
Was his tone wrong? Or was his outfit the problem? The Sages in novels and games always did it this way! You have to realize, Gandalf managed to trick a simple country Hobbit into a treasure-hunting journey with just a few words. Why didn't the same method work on these city youths?
But then again, Gandalf didn't have smoke-belching factories, roaring trains, or streetlights illuminating the night.
Standing in the bleak night wind, Lorne came to a profound realization: The times, indeed, had changed!
He wrapped his robe tighter and turned to the two demons.
"Since the dungeon is short on money, why don't you guys just find a factory job? Didn't you say yesterday that your ability to disguise yourselves as humans is flawless?"
These two were siblings. The sister was named Serena and the brother was Silas. They were the highest-ranking monsters in the Gloom Catacombs, calling themselves the "Demon King's Left and Right Hands." Though, the previous Demon King clearly forgot to take his "hands" with him when he bailed.
As soon as Lorne finished speaking, Serena let out a loud sob.
"Lord Lorne, did I do something wrong? Why must you punish me in such a cruel way? How can we of the Demon Race bow our heads to humans? Working for humans is impossible! It's impossible to work for humans in this lifetime!"
Is working for a Demon King any different? Lorne thought to himself.
Silas echoed her. "Exactly! The noble Demon Race will never bow to humans! Besides, Lord Lorne, working for humans might earn money, but without a supply of mana, we won't survive anyway!"
"Mana supply?" Lorne was hearing this term for the first time.
"You are the Demon King; your mana comes from the Demon Realm and is inexhaustible. But for us monsters, our mana comes from the Dungeon Core. The Core converts the emotions of Heroes—excitement, joy, anger, despair—into mana and distributes it to the monsters. But since Heroes stopped adventuring in the dungeon, the mana in the Core has grown less and less, and our strength has weakened. And the very last bit of mana was used to..."
Silas's voice trailed off into an incoherent mumble.
Lorne understood. The last of the mana was used to summon him. Now, there wasn't a single drop left in the Core.
He thought for a moment and asked, "In other words, we need to find an effective way to make humans feel excited, joyful, angry, and despondent all at once, and have them willingly give us their money?"
The two demons nodded like chickens pecking grain, looking at Lorne with expectant eyes that practically screamed "Feed us!"
Lorne rubbed his chin. "It seems I have no choice but to return to my old trade."
The two demons looked at each other, choosing their words carefully and asking tentatively, "Lord Demon King, your old trade... is conquering the world?"
Lorne glanced at the siblings. That profound gaze made the two demons tremble.
"No. I used to be a Game Designer."