*
In her short life, Verdandi could only remember one thing she heard first.
“Verdandi, I’m really sorry, Mommy…”
These were the words her mother confessed to her while crying before Verdandi could even take her first steps.
Verdandi still couldn’t understand why her mother cried while looking at her.
In that memory, her mother had tried to strangle her to death.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
She must have been just a little closer to death’s door at that moment.
Why did she look so sad, trying to kill her?
Why did she release her grip with such a pained expression?
At three years old, Verdandi couldn’t comprehend such mixed feelings of guilt and affection. She couldn’t understand that even if she was an unwanted child, her mother wouldn’t kill her because she loved her.
“Verdandi, Mommy loves you more than anyone in the world. It’s all my fault. It’s not your fault…”
Thus, Verdandi couldn’t understand why her mother apologized to her while crying.
At that time, she didn’t know that she was an unwanted child born from being assaulted by a robber, nor could she accept that she had almost been killed by her own parents.
She was simply too naive and pure to understand adult matters.
– [The words of the person in front of you are ‘lies’.]
– [The person in front of you is ‘evil’.]
In that moment, as Verdandi approached death, those translucent words remained etched in her memory over the years.
“It’s because I love you, Mommy is like this. Please forgive me…”
– [The words of the person in front of you are ‘lies’.]
– [The person in front of you is ‘evil’.]
The beginning of all her nightmares was that translucent message, which still appeared even as she grew older.
For young Verdandi, it became a milestone distinguishing good from evil, and the reason she began to call her parents ‘mother’ instead of ‘mom’ while distancing herself from them.
With no one around to share her burdens or to understand her, Verdandi couldn’t grasp the contradictory feelings of affection and resentment.
As the years passed, Verdandi’s hair grew long enough to reach her waist.
“Hey! My mom says you’re the child of a whore! That’s why your dad ran away!”
With that, she also began to understand how the world viewed her. Kids are more sensitive to insults and harsh words than adults, after all.
“My mom says not to play with dirty kids like you.”
Whenever Verdandi tried to mingle with the village children, they pushed her away with slanders and taunts.
They pointed and laughed, threw dirt at her, and even tortured her by sticking ants on her.
“Get out of our village! You witch!”
Her face and clothes were covered in mud, her knees and elbows scraped and bleeding, and she cried and screamed countless times, but no one noticed her.
In this small village, word spread quickly, and there was no one who didn’t know of Verdandi’s birth story. They knew about the robbers who raided the village long ago and the few women they assaulted, leaving them pregnant.
‘…If I work hard, surely people will see that I’m not bad!’
Verdandi tried to devise ways to escape from this discrimination and contempt. She started by tying one side of her hair neatly to look presentable.
To appear kind to both adults and children, she began to habitually use polite speech instead of casual language, taking on odd jobs to build a reputation as a good child.
But,
“I feel sick. You just laugh when someone hits you or makes fun of you!”
“Haha, is that so…?”
Strangely, that approach backfired.
Verdandi became a child who couldn’t exhibit normal emotions. Even when someone hit or teased her, she could only laugh, unable to show sadness or anger.
No matter how hard it was, she couldn’t reveal her emotions because she feared becoming a ‘bad child’ again and being abandoned by everyone.
“She naïvely does all the dirty work without realizing she’s left with nothing! I’ll have to use her again later.”
“……”
Even knowing she was being used, Verdandi couldn’t muster even one retort and couldn’t resist properly.
She constantly wished someone would need her, that she could help others.
“Verdandi, you don’t have to come to our house anymore. Bad rumors are spreading in the village…”
“Yes! Of course! I’m a good child! I won’t be a bother to grandfather anymore!”
Even when others gossiped about her, she pretended to be nonchalant. Despite the rumors snowballing, she tried hard to maintain a cheerful demeanor.
In the end, Verdandi’s kindness was cast aside by the world. No matter how desperately she tried to escape this hell, there was no helping hand.
‘…Mother, why didn’t you just kill me back then?’
Verdandi pleaded with all the villagers, except her mother, to recognize her true self, but she was rejected and returned home.
Getting drenched in pouring rain, Verdandi tried to ignore her reflected face in a puddle.
– [The person before you is a ‘divine being’.]
She saw blue eyes and golden hair. The transparent message hovering above categorized her as a divine being.
No matter that she was an unwanted child born from a robber, that child had committed no sin.
‘Even if I’m considered a divine being, what the villagers say is the truth.’
The absolute judgment of good and evil.
She had an absolute criteria that placed that person’s life on a scale, allowing her to discern the difference between evil acts and good deeds.
Because of this, Verdandi wanted to show the world that she wasn’t the bad child everyone vilified.
‘…Then, aren’t they deserving of death?’
Her abilities named [The Scale of Justice] and [The Eye of Truth] paradoxically blindfolded Verdandi’s eyes and clouded her judgment.
Afterward, Verdandi became obsessed with the concept of ‘justice’. She wanted an ideal human who wouldn’t be deemed evil in her eyes.
She sought such a perfect person, one who wouldn’t be recognized as an evil being even by her powers.
– [Verdandi, from now on, you will punish the evil in this world as the Hero of Justice.]
A few days ago, a deity appeared to Verdandi in her dreams.
The deity, known as the Lord of Light, was the oracle of Solareon, taking the form of a lion.
“Me…?”
– [Indeed. Your sword will strike the Demon King, driving out the darkness that exists in this world.]
Deep down, Verdandi had been awaiting such an oracle. She wanted to believe that she was right and that the world was wrong.
“Thank you, Lord!”
With a heart-warming sense of liberation, she smiled like a child tasting sweets for the first time.
-[This is proof that you are the Hero. I hope you cherish it.]
Above Verdandi’s head, a laurel crown made of light, resembling an angel’s halo, was placed.
“I am now the Hero! That means that my mother who doesn’t love me is an evil person who deserves to die!”
After waking from the dream, Verdandi double-checked everything, thoroughly preparing and calculating.
“I will execute justice!”
She firmly believed that she was the divine being and the rest were the evildoers.
*
The golden fields yet to be harvested swayed, with fallen leaves fluttering, indicating the beauty of autumn in the village.
“So this is Wonderhill Village.”
After stepping down from the carriage, I looked around, and the gazes of the villagers pierced us sharply.
This village couldn’t help but be closed off to outsiders. That’s how I’d set it up.
“It’s not very friendly for a countryside village!”
“Of course not. This is the kind of place it is.”
This was hell solely crafted to twist Verdandi into a warped Hero, a hell meant for just one person.
“Master, where are the people in need of our help? Didn’t you mention that before we traveled to the Western Region?”
“…If you go to the alley, you’ll find patients afflicted with epidemic diseases and children selling their bodies and organs because they need money.”
As I spoke those words, I smiled bitterly. Underneath the beautiful appearance of the village, such ugliness was hidden, and I had penned it all down.
“So, the villagers…”
“Yeah, they drove the rest of the humans into the alley just to save themselves. Even the pitiful beggars know how to keep their sense of justice.”
The reason Verdandi judged the villagers as evildoers, and why no one felt pity for her, was simple.
The village chief and residents had conspired to isolate the failures and live separately from each other.
“…So everyone is in cahoots. I am deeply impressed by your keen insight, dear Master.”
Bi Wol nodded, immediately understanding my words. I gently ruffled her hair as if to praise her.
“To think my sister would be in such a disgusting place, Bi Wol. I can’t help but feel sorrowful. Now I understand why you came to rescue her, Master.”
“I actually came here early to prevent the people of the kingdom from spitting on her…”
Wulfram wanted to pet Bi Wol’s head too, but ultimately refrained.
“Don’t touch me. Only one person under heaven can pet my head, the greatest of all, my Master.”
No, Bi Wol, it’s not me.
I found her absurdly trying to elevate me, considering I wasn’t even the greatest of all.
Because I was from the Five Poison Sect, I could be called a ‘Sapa’.
But to be referred to as the greatest of all, I had to deal with Sadorenju, and to be called the greatest of all time, there was still the Heavenly Demon, Bi Wol.
“Moreover, you even have the title of ‘Dragon’.”
“Does that mean I’m on par with a Dragon Slayer? Amazing!”
“You all make me feel embarrassed.”
I shook my head in disbelief, wiping the cold sweat from my brow. I was witnessing a sight where fantasy and martial arts intersected.
Even though I wrote this story, I felt it was too much.
“…Master, I can smell strong blood ahead.”
“Lead the way, Bi Wol.”
As I looked around for any traces of Verdandi, Bi Wol grimaced and pointed her finger somewhere.
“It seems to be over there.”
A dreary-looking house made of gray bricks, matching the description of her residence from my notes.
“Is anyone home?”
I knocked on the door gently with my knuckles, but there was no response.
This is strange. In the original version, Verdandi’s mother would have welcomed Wulfram upon his arrival, and Verdandi should have appeared.
“Is anyone home? I’ve come to see the Hero!”
It felt bizarre, like being pricked by a needle. A chill of anxiety washed over me, making me knock even harder on the door.
BANG BANG BANG!
Despite my pounding, there was still no response from inside, but Bi Wol’s expression showed concern as she furrowed her brow.
“Master, the stench of blood is getting stronger. The wounded inside are gasping more and more faintly. If this continues, it’ll be a disaster…”
“…This won’t do. I’ll break down the door; if there’s someone wounded inside, I need your help.”
Ice Crystal Divine Art, first technique. Ice Shattering Fist.
I struck the door hard with my fist, and with a CRASH!, it shattered into pieces.
“Who are you?!”
With that, Wulfram, Bi Wol, and I entered the house, only to find the interior drenched in blood.
“…Verdandi Astraya.”
Within, a middle-aged woman leaned against the wall, bleeding, alongside a girl drenched in blood, grinning.
“I know my name! What an honor!”
No doubt about it; the girl’s appearance matched my ultimate boss character, Verdandi, in the story.
“Gah, gasp…people…People are dead…!!”
“Not dead yet. She’s still breathing.”
Wulfram was startled, unable to catch his breath, while Bi Wol tried to reassure him.
Verdandi was showing a different side from the original story. Originally, she would have been intent on killing her mother.
Where had it all gone wrong?
“Wulfram, can you use healing magic?”
“Uh, yeah! If she isn’t dead yet, I should be able to heal her!”
I calmly asked Wulfram to heal Verdandi’s mother. If Bi Wol helped, we could save her without raising Verdandi’s guard.
“Bi Wol, assist Wulfram in saving that woman. And stay clear of the area.”
Originally, I had intended to use Bi Wol to subdue Verdandi, but now it couldn’t be helped.
“But… Master…”
“It’s fine. This is something I have to resolve myself.”
I smiled gently at Bi Wol, trying to convey that she shouldn’t worry, and upon seeing that, she nodded and moved along with Wulfram.
“Isn’t it amazing that an evil person is trying to save someone? Are we both evildoers after all?”
“…Does your ability label me an evildoer? That’s unexpected.”
The designation of ‘extreme evildoer’ was a title Verdandi would attain through her misdeeds by the end of the story.
But I had written the ending of [The Hero Must Die] that took shape in my mind, where she would take her own life upon seeing that she was labeled an evildoer.
“No thoughts of resolving this through dialogue… Of course not.”
*
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