Chapter 80

Chapter 80
A goddamn joke compared to what I was up against. Why is it so low? I'm a puny mortal against the demon lord. Without my guns and earthy wares, I'm nothing against him. My hands trembled at my sides, just a twitch, just enough that I had to clench my fingers around the sword’s hilt to stop it.
Mr Guardian, sir… if you’re watching me right now… please…
I kept my face blank, my stance proud. But inside, I was screaming.
Please help me.
Please. I know I’m not some Chosen One. I’m not a hero. I didn’t ask for this. I’m just a guy with a system that only sometimes makes sense. But right now—I need you. Because if I falter, if I look afraid, they’ll break. My warriors will break. My friends will lose hope.
Look! Even the enemy is waiting.
The entire battlefield had paused. Though he said that I have a body shield, that I couldn't be hurt, still I doubt if I could kill the demon lord; what if I lose? What if I couldn't win against him?
Crap! I need to win no matter what.
Even the demons—those savage, mindless beasts—stood still, their claws twitching, their heads tilted, curious. Watching. As if they knew something was about to happen. As if he wanted this to be a spectacle. A message.
A duel of fate. The last duel before the tide turned. And there I was… pretending to be a hero.
“Flare…” I murmured.
She was still circling in the distance, raining divine flame wherever shadows threatened to reform. I could feel her presence in the back of my mind—a thread of power linking us. She was pushing herself to the limit.
And Silvarya. Gods, Silvarya. She was coordinating aerial strikes from Flare’s back, rallying the mages, shielding the wounded. She was everywhere. She was a true guardian.
And me?
I stood alone, praying in silence.
Mr Guardian… I know you’re busy or whatever gods do… but I need something. A sign. A boost. A new skill. A cheat. Hell, even a nudge in the right direction. Just… something. I’m walking toward a monster that commands the legions of hell, and I’m doing it with base stats.
I’m not scared of dying. I’m scared of failing them.
I stood there for a long second, just listening. Waiting.
Hoping for the familiar ding of the system. For the flicker of a new window. A skill. A passive ability. Even a sarcastic message from the Guardian, like usual. But… nothing. The system remained silent. No chime. No quest update. No miracle. Just the previous quest still glowing faintly in my peripheral vision:
\[Main Quest Update: Confront the Demon Lord – First Clash\]
Objective: Survive. Resist. Fight.
Reward: Unknown.
That was it. Survive. Resist. Fight. I exhaled slowly. Then I clenched my jaw and took the first step forward. If the Guardian wouldn’t send help… then I would fight anyway.
Because I couldn’t let them down.
Now, I Walk Alone. The land was quiet, but it pulsed under my boots.
The smell of scorched blood was thick. The air crackled with lingering spells. In the distance, I saw a broken standard fall into the mud. One of my banners. Red with gold trim. Trampled but not forgotten. I passed it. And still, I walked. Okay, it's now or never. But of course, I was trembling; I was scared.
Each step was a lie I told the world. That I wasn’t afraid. That I had a plan. That I was a hero.
When, really? I was a farmer, a merchant, a lover, a friend, a lord, and a wanderer. A transmigrated soul from Earth with nothing but grit, memories, and a broken system that seemed to think throwing me against literal demon lords was a fun joke.
Still… If I was going to die today—then the Demon Lord was going to bleed for it. I rolled my shoulders, raised my blade, and stared up at the abyss that wore a crown. And when he laughed, I smirked. “Let’s dance, asshole.”
I stopped fifty paces from the front line. The Demon Lord stood on a ridge now, towering over me like some infernal god-king. His horns scraped the sky. His smile… too wide, too confident. What the fuck! He looks like Thanos' motherfucker shit! How could I defeat this asshole?
Not good.
But anyway, let him underestimate me. I already told Flare to fly above me, invisible, of course, but I hope the demon lord couldn't see him.
Let him think I’m just a man with fancy tools. He didn’t see what I saw. He didn’t know what I’d done. He didn’t feel the blink to life behind my eyes. He didn’t hear the familiar chime of the Guardian Screen as it delivered a new quest.
\[Main Quest Update: Confront the Demon Lord – First Clash\]
Objective: Survive. Resist. Fight.
Reward: Unknown.
I smirked. Or whatever.
“Alright then, monster,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders as my sword crackled to life. “Let’s see if your abyss can handle a little fire.”
I raised my blade—
And charged.
But the sky cracked. Rain fell—not a soft drizzle, not cleansing, but hard and violent, as if the heavens themselves wept for what was about to unfold. The dry, cracked earth of the desert hissed and steamed as the water mixed with fresh blood. Red rivers formed in seconds. Corpses soaked and sank beneath the mud. Thunder roared like war drums.
And the Demon Lord smiled. “Silly human!” That cursed, jagged smile beneath his bone helm. Then—he moved. Like a shadow given flesh, he lunged, and the duel began.
I barely blocked the first strike. My arms screamed with the impact. His obsidian blade slammed into mine with such weight it nearly drove me to my knees. Sparks flew. Lightning flashed. My boots skidded across the ground, dragging furrows into the earth.
He didn't stop. He came again. And again. “Naive, powerless mortal!” He grumbled between each attack. Each strike was a storm—wild, brutal, full of wrath. And I—
I was losing.
Visibly, anyway.
After the first strike that reached my ribs, I found out that indeed, I was not in pain. It felt like a tickle. I wanted to scream and make the bastard see that I was okay, but damn, I can be an actor. By now I know that body shield was working; the demon attack seems so powerful, deadly even…but it felt like a soft pillow fight; I couldn't feel a thing. I wanted to laugh but held my breath. I need to pretend for now, waiting for an opening.
I stumbled, rolled, and blocked just in time. I grunted as if I felt pain, though truthfully? I didn’t feel a damn thing. My body had long since stopped registering pain. Whether it was adrenaline, my system, or sheer dumb luck, I wasn’t sure. But one thing was for sure: the demon lord strikes so fast, I couldn't see an opening.
But I let him think I was breaking. I needed him to think I was breaking. That was the only way I’d survive this.
I ducked under a cleaving blow, letting it shear the air above my head, then twisted and slashed toward his ribs. The Demon Lord spun with inhuman speed, catching my blade mid-air between his claws. His free hand smashed into my chest and sent me flying.
I hit the ground hard and rolled, mud and blood smearing across my armour.
"You're weaker than I expected," he said, voice like cracking bones and molten rock. "Was this your grand plan, mortal? To die in front of your army so they may weep?"
I spat blood—or maybe it was rain—and stood. I heard my people scream my name and heard Silverya’s words of encouragement, hopes and belief that I could defeat the bastard. But what the hell? I couldn't find an opening. That arsehole was too fast. His magic blurred against my sword.
"Sorry," I muttered. "Was that your opening monologue? I've heard better from goblins."
He didn't laugh. The Thanos-like demon lord was mad. But he did raise his hand. “You, mortal! Very stupid.”
Behind him—monsters surged forward. “You die today!” An army of grotesque nightmares. Horned beasts, twisted orcs, demons with writhing limbs and eyes where no eyes should be. A thousand of them. Maybe more. He didn’t care about honour. He never planned for this to be a duel.
He wanted a massacre. “Kill the rest,” he commanded. And just like that—the line broke. My people—my warriors—screamed and surged forward to meet them. My ears filled with the clang of steel on bone, the hiss of spells crashing through the air, the sound of flesh tearing and men dying.
All around me—chaos. Carnage.
Damn it! The battlefield became a living nightmare. Rain slicked every surface, turning sand to red mud. Banners burnt. Flare dove through the storm overhead, flames scorching across monstrous lines, but still they came. Silvarya’s voice echoed across the air, commanding defensive formations, her magic blazing like stars through the thick smoke.
But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. My purple sword clashed with the Demon Lord’s again, and he roared in delight. Wait, why was my magic sword not working?
"You break beautifully, Dirk Robinson Jr."
He knew my name. Ha! He must be my fan.
However, my blade was nearly knocked from my hands. I staggered again, eyes scanning his form for a hole, an error, a single misstep—but there was nothing. He fought like a god of war. Every movement, precise and brutal.
So I let him think I was crumbling. I gave him limp arms, heavy breathing, desperate swings—every sign of a failing man. And he bought it. He pressed harder, drunk on his own power. He didn’t notice how I wasn’t bleeding. How my ribs hadn’t caved from his strike. How I never actually flinched.
I needed just a second. A sliver of an opening. One stupid mistake. Please, just one…
My warriors were dying. Their screams tore through me. I saw Karl pinned beneath a beast twice his size, Flare hurling flames to save him. I saw Elvie with her sword buried in the gut of a shadowspawn, her arm mangled. I saw Agnes, limping through the muck, hurling spells with blood running down her cheek again.
And I waited. Pretending. Faking. Losing. Because if I struck too soon, they would really die.
Come on, bastard… overextend… show me something…just an opening to your heartstone.
He grinned, raising both arms to summon more of his vile magic. Black tendrils clawed from the sky. The air trembled. A beast twice my size lunged from the side—but I spun, cut it down, and fell again, as if I’d overexerted myself.
Another illusion. Let him believe I was desperate. Let him believe his victory was assured. I needed him to lower his guard. Because when he did… I would take everything.
Just once. One sweeping, arrogant blow—wide and wild, driven by confidence, not calculation. His obsidian blade tore through the air, and in that instant, he left his chest open. His blackened armour cracked there, just below the collarbone. And through the churning mist and war cries, I saw it.
The Heartstone.
Then finally, he overreached. Got you, bastard.
A vile, glowing gem embedded in his chest—pulsing with dark crimson and violet light, protected by demonic runes and bone plating. It was the source. The core of his power. I saw it flicker, flashing erratically as if it too had grown cocky.
That’s it, I thought. That’s the moment.
Everything else vanished—the rain, the screaming, the clash of thousands. My breath slowed. Time stretched.
I lunged. My sword burnt in my hands. Not with fire—but with something deeper. Purple light coiled around the steel like living lightning, ancient and unnatural. The kind of magic that didn’t belong to this world. It wasn’t mine.
It was the system’s gift, awakened in desperation, in purpose. As if it too had been waiting for this strike.
"RAAAAAAGH!" I roared, channelling everything—my rage, fear, hope, all of it—into the blow.
The Demon Lord’s eyes widened.
Too late. My blade struck the Heartstone. There was no scream—just silence. Pure, horrifying silence.
And then—
Detonation.
The gem shattered, releasing a wave of dark energy that exploded in every direction like a dying star. It threw me back, launching my body through the mud and blood. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, tearing demons from their feet, snapping weapons in half, and incinerating beasts in mid-charge.
The sky turned black. The Demon Lord staggered. His body cracked. Shards of him—bone, armour, flesh—peeled away, turning to ash. The magic sustaining him disintegrated, torn apart from the inside out. His helm fell, revealing a face warped and twisted, stretched into agony.
He reached for me. Not to strike. But to curse.
“I will return,” he rasped, his voice now a broken wind. “You—will never—know peace—”
Who damn care! I defeated you! I can defeat you again and again!
“Hey, arsehole, your attack felt like a pillow fight to me!” I screamed and I swore; I felt his anger in the wind.
Then I said nothing. I just walked forward. With every step, his body collapsed more, pieces drifting into the storm like ash on the wind. Until only his head remained, still flickering with dark fire.
I raised my sword. And brought it down.
One clean strike. The Demon Lord’s head separated from his body—and both disintegrated into smoke and glowing dust, swallowed by the rain. No trace remained. Not even blood.
Only silence. Only wind. The second wave… was over.
Hours passed; the battlefield stank of death. Rot, burning hair, torn flesh. The rain mixed with blood and bone, soaking everything in crimson mud. My warriors—my people—stood scattered, broken, but alive. Many collapsed to their knees when the Demon Lord fell. Some cried. Others cheered through gritted teeth. Flare landed behind me, wings folding in exhaustion, his snout steaming, his divine flame dimmed but not gone. Silvarya rushed forward, robes torn, her face bloodied, but her eyes—those luminous eyes—were fixed on me.
"You did it," she whispered, almost in disbelief.
But I was too still. Because something was wrong.
As I lowered my sword, I felt it. A cold breath at the edge of my mind.
A whisper that didn’t belong.
“This is not the end.”
I froze.
“You killed the flesh. But I am not merely flesh. I am hatred. I am vengeance. I will kill you soon!”
The Demon Lord’s voice, now a shadow, curled through my skull like smoke, taunting and patient.
“Your world will bleed. Maybe not today. But soon. And when it does… remember me.”
Then—silence.
Gone. But not forgotten.
\[QUEST COMPLETED – SLAYER OF DARKNESS\]
The notification echoed through my ears.
You have slain the demon lord.
System Reward: Time-Shatter Watch – A magical artefact that allows the user to stop time for up to 10 seconds (cooldown: 24 hours).
Bonus Reward: +10 to all hidden stats. +1000 to all stats of your companions.
Title Earned: “Breaker of Chaos.”
Achievement Unlocked: “Duel With Death.”
In the ashes of war, something materialised before me—hovering in midair.
A watch. WOW! What a generous rewards?
Black and silver, its gears turning in strange directions, its hands ticking backward. I reached for it, fingers trembling, and as soon as I touched it—
Time stopped. For a heartbeat, I stood in a frozen world. Raindrops suspended midair. A dying demon still locked in its death pose. A warrior mid-fall, his sword flying from his hand.
Everything—silent. Then it ticked once—and the world moved again. I stared at the artefact, heart hammering. Time… I can stop time. The battlefield groaned beneath me.
Flare let out a long, victorious roar. And somewhere deep in the desert winds, I knew—this war wasn’t over. Not truly. But for today…
We had won.

END OF SEASON ONE