"What makes someone a hero?"

  It was a question I've continued to ponder for the last three years. The first conclusion I have gotten from it was that any answer I've fed had proven to be unsatisfactory as I failed to see how it correlated to me in any way. And second, it was a redundant question. I can scrutinize the goddess' choices as much as I like but it won't change the fact that I was the one standing by the large double doors to the demon lord's throne room.

  Would I consider myself to be powerful? Not by a longshot. Uphold justice? Not unless we're talking about that old and questionable prophecy the king recited. Kind and compassionate? Again, anything for the prophecy. To invoke the image of heroism the people hoped for.

  Heroism not shaped by my own pure desire or firm beliefs, but by what others thought it was meant to be.

  "Eyes up Karin," The knight beside me, Caldwell, exclaimed cheerfully. "Here we are standing at the precipice of glory."

  The female minotaur, Phae, followed behind him and attempted to crack her knuckles. An old habit she told. "A battle for the ages," she spoke with a heavy accent. "Hope this one lasts longer than his so-called apostles."

  A witch watched the two close-ranged combatants at a distance. A familiar scene which made her blow an exasperated sigh. "Leave it to you two to ease the poor girl," the sarcasm from Evelynn's fiery tongue didn't go over Caldwell's head however.

  "And your negativity is somehow better?"

  "It's called being realistic, something your chivalric code clearly failed to take into account."

  Sensing the growing tensions—like a pot about to boil over—a streak of gold rushed into the scene and stood between the two. "Alright, break it up! Caldwell, you know better than to stoke the flame," The male elf Finn reprimanded. Giving Caldwell an earful first before turning to Evelynn. "And as for you, I'm close to giving up on even trying to control you at this point..."

  "Because you know I've only said the truth," she huffed and flipped her ashen gray hair with pride.

  Finn made no attempt to argue. Not because he necessarily agreed with her statement, but because he understood that Evelynn wasn't the type of woman that can easily be told 'no'.

  This was common knowledge among our group, though some like Caldwell would engage in banter with Evelynn once in a while. It was usually done when it questioned his principles and goodwill. But for someone like Phae... Ugh, Phae...

  "So that one time you said the school of serenity was—" "That was a slip of the tongue damnit!"

  A Freudian slip maybe, but of course I was sensible enough not to say it out loud. Not that she would understand it, but I wouldn't bet on this translation blessing to butcher it. Well, something that came straight from the goddess couldn't exactly be faulty, could it?

  Phae continued to tease Evelynn meanwhile until she finally has had enough and shoved her forward towards the large door which she phased through. Leaving only her lower half floating on one side of the door while her other half was poking through the demon's lord throne room.

  "I think we might've gone and disturbed his majesty's nap time," she said after smoothly prying her incorporeal form away from the door. The others soon follow, phasing their ghostly bodies through the door to confirm her words.

  "Ah, you're right. He seemed agitated." "You just had to push Phae, didn't you?"

  "Hey, blame the cow for being so annoying!"

  That was certainly a way to set the mood. Irritating the demon lord so he would have more reason to chop my head off. As if he didn't have enough already...

  I sighed as I stepped forward to push open the large double doors. The throne room beyond them was dimly lit, with windows lined up to one side where the light of the crescent moon shone through.

  My companions returned to my side before I made my first step. My white boots sinking into the plush velvet carpet which stretched from the entrance towards the throne. The demon lord sat there with his head propped on one arm, a silent invitation to step forward. An air of eerie dread grew more intense the closer I got.

  "Countless demon kin, slain," he began. Lifting his head and sitting straight. "My apostles lay dead in your wake. Even my closest confidant was not spared from your strength."

  "Bit late for a gut-wrenching story, isn't it?" Phae sneered.

  "Ah, is that how it sounds to you?" he let out a chuckle that grew more hysterical, quickly turning into a rambunctious laugh.

  Has he lost his mind? The look on everyone's faces seemed to mirror that exact same thought.

  Instinctively, my left hand reached for the sword resting on my waist. Caldwell—who had stood on my left—noticed the gesture and gave an affirming nod before fixing his gaze back towards the throne.

  "You're gravely mistaken," the demon lord stood up, alerting us. My companions huddled close around me. Caldwell hovered his hand over mine, Phae and Finn protectively stood in front despite the futility of the act, while Evelynn hid behind me, startled.

  He walked laps before the throne as he rambled on. "I'm thankful, elated! Those closest to me, my apostles, and even my kin are nothing more than chains that bind me to this stupid throne. But now that the demon race is in disarray, who is there to stop me?"

  He paused, one hand gripping his white hair as realization struck. His lips frowned for a brief moment before twitching back up into a smirk. "No... It does not matter, they will soon return to my aid once more."

  A flash of light erupted from the ground. I looked around to notice that it came from a magic circle engraved onto the stone floors.

  Evelynn flew up, frantically examining the pattern. "It's a teleportation spell!" She shouted, but was a second too late to relay the information.

  The light grew more intense until it blinded me. I couldn't see, but I could tell that the surroundings had changed. My legs sank slightly on softer ground. A gentle breeze caressed my skin, carrying a rotten stench with it.

  I slowly opened my eyes, and the first thing I noticed after my sights had finally adjusted was the mountain of demon corpses piled up behind the demon lord. The state they were in varied, some had recently passed while others had begun to decay. Mindless harpies carried fresh corpses and added them to the pile.

  "Do not be startled yet, these are only this week's batch. You did not think this was the extent of the casualties, did you? This feeble amount? Save yourself the trouble... I've lost count of how many I've buried as well."

  The demon lord smirked and the earth then rumbled beneath our feet. Hundreds of decayed heads and arms protrude from the ground, followed by the chilling groans of the undead.

  A number of arms sprung forth directly beneath me, and Caldwell—who had remained on guard—then immediately phased into my body.

  My torso hunched forward, I was slowly losing control. My mind was pushed to the deepest reaches of my subconscious, but I was still fully awake. Inside this dark and empty space in my head I was aware of everything that was happening outside of my control. How my right hand unsheathed the sword on my waist and cut the arms gripping my legs in a flash, all without my input. Like watching a movie being played in first person perspective.

  "Possession, huh?" The demon lord scoffed, almost mocking the sight before him. "Often occurs when one is of a weak mind or spirit. And you're telling me that this is the hero that has been disrupting my campaign?"

  Caldwell pointed the sword at him and spoke through my mouth, taking on the tone of my voice. "You've failed to mention her sacrifice. Entrusting her body, staking her own life, in the hands of a specter."

  "I am the last person you need to lecture on sacrifice..."

  A horde of undead rose from the earth, mindlessly obeying a silent command to tear my body to shreds.

  The sword Caldwell held remained poised in a perfect straight line. A small stream of water appeared and flowed from the tip. Steadily growing into a rapid torrent which coat both edge of the blade, moving in a perpendicular motion akin to a chainsaw.

  My field of vision dropped slightly as he leaned my upper body forward, knees bent, the soles of my boots firmly planted into the soil. He made no move yet, assessing the placement of enemies and the best course he needed to take to the demon lord.

  But despite how slow the horde was, they weren't going to wait for him to finish. Rushing forward with that god-awful screeches and groans of theirs.

  Thus he kicked the ground, sending blades of grass into the air. The sword was positioned beside my waist, with the tip pointing to the ground. When an undead came close enough, he swung it in a minor arc, then steadied it for another strike.

  Rinse and repeat, leaving a trail of writhing, living corpses severed in two. The chainsaw-like rapid coating the blade making quick work of them.

  Though their bodies may be brittle, they more than make up for that through sheer numbers. If one falls, two more will take up its place.

  A few minutes must've passed by now, yet he hasn't gotten any closer to the demon lord who had stood in the same place from the beginning.

  "This is going nowhere," Evelynn grumbled as Caldwell retreated after a fresh batch of undead blocked his advance for the umpteenth time. Floating before him with her hands on her hips. "Move aside big guy! Your sword won't put a dent on them."

  She then planted her feet on my torso and shoved Caldwell out of it, before making herself comfortable underneath my skin.

  "thirty seconds," she said. Bringing my right arm up to conjure a large circle made of light. Complex patterns began to form within its radius. Comprising of intersecting lines with circles marking each intersection. Along the rims were characters that were foreign to me, it doesn't even match the ones used by the language of this world. Each sentence(?) were separated by more circles. "I'll deal with these bastards and that demon lord in thirty seconds."

  Despite the complexities, I've already committed this particular pattern to memory after seeing it for hundreds of times since I've let Evelynn possess my body. And I know that 25 out of that 30 seconds limit she gave herself was dedicated solely to completing this magic circle.

  Almost half a minute of standing still, completely vulnerable to all attacks. Combined the immobility with the fact that the horde would take no longer than 10 seconds to reach us, it was practically a death sentence.

  Or it would be, had Evelynn been a novice mage.

  "The demonkin may be resistant to flames, but that's only thanks to the mana coating you naturally produce around your body. Now that you're a bunch of rotten husk with no souls, there's nothing stopping me from setting you ablaze, you pricks!!"

  Simultaneously, while she continued to form the magic circle on one hand, her other hand conjured a magic circle for a firebolt. It was a much simpler spell, with a smaller radius magic circle and less intricate patterns.

  She had casted it so many times before, it had become muscle memory. Mindlessly warding off incoming attackers with the homing firebolt while her focus was solely on completing the first spell.

  Well... That and—

  "Does it only tickle now, huh!?" She laughed hysterically. Blasting away her firebolt and setting the enemy on fire. Relishing the fact that she can finally do so.

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  "Damnit honey! Again with— Well, whatever. I can do it with my eyes closed anyway."

  Even if I was possessed—and because I retain my consciousness—the one with the final say on what my body can and can't do is still me. Just exert a bit of willpower and I can partially control a part of my body. In this case, my eyelids.

  It had become somewhat of an unwritten agreement between me and Evelynn. She can cast her fire spells, but I would block out my vision if she did.

  Even if she had her suspicions, she wasn't one to voice them. And though the suddenness of it ticked her off, like she had said, she's capable enough to do the things she does with her eyes closed.

  And communication is a struggle in this state. I've tried. Forming sentences is harder than it sounds, as it takes more body parts to control and is a more complex gesture.

  So really, she doesn't have the right to get pissed off when it comes as a surprise.

  The crackling of flames, the stench of burnt corpses. It painted a vivid enough picture that shutting my eyes almost felt useless. But anymore than this then it would be nothing short of sabotage.

  "Look out!" Phae shouted. She pushed Evelynn out and took control.

  My sight returned, and what I immediately saw was two larger undead charging towards me. One was a man-beast hybrid. Body clad in fur, digitigrade legs, a gaping hole on his chests where his heart should be. Traitor to the beastkin, the prideful lion, the king of none, Cyril.

  The other was a headless feminine figure clad in armor. Even without a head, the way she ran, hoisting the metallic flagpole with the torn flag of the demonic nation up high, it instilled confidence. A succubus who uses her charm to lead armies, right hand of the demon lord, Arzhula.

  Phae pulled out a halberd the size of a keychain ornament from the small bag strapped to my waist. It grew to its original size, blocking the attack of the two higher rank demons on time. "Fuck! Thought we wouldn't see these two apostles again," she grumbled through gritted teeth. Pushing back against the flurry of attacks.

  "Yes, it was quite the trouble to recover them," the demon lord interjected. He had survived the blast from Evelynn's magic as the undead swarmed to protect him. "Had to substitute a few bones and connective tissue, but otherwise, they're not too dissimilar than when they're at their prime."

  We've dealt with them before, their attacks were the same as when we fought them in the past. And without a soul they couldn't use magic, making it easier. That was had it only been one of them.

  Cyril pounced with his claws, delivering a flurry of relentless slashes. While Arzhula covered the gaps between his attacks with a stab of her flagpole.

  The duo kept pushing Phae farther back. She tried to retaliate, thought she could parry the flagpole but all it earned her was a nasty slash wound along my arm.

  It wasn't only me who knew that she couldn't keep this up. Finn swooped in and took control. Using the wind propelled from my feet to leap to the side, gain some distance and try to make a run for the demon lord.

  But we were knocked to the side mid leap by another—what seemed to be—a higher ranking demon. With strength almost on par with the apostles. His purplish skin was

  riddled with small shallow holes, most likely leftovers from arrows. And even more shallow cuts from bladed weapons.

  "I suppose you haven't met Gevrog, a former apostle of mine before he was taken over by Maeleg, the one you're more familiar with," the demon lord began to explain whilst Gevrog pinned us to the ground, his saliva dripping down onto my face. "Hardly any difference the way he is now than when he was alive. A complete buffoon who was somehow killed by an army of greenhorns. Then again, it was thanks to that circumstance and their negligence that I could recover his body in good condition."

  He pulled back his arms, the moonlight glinting against his sharp claws. Finn immediately brought my arms forward and expelled a gust of wind from the palm of my hands, but it wasn't strong enough to push Gevrog aside.

  Thus, unperturbed, he began to lash his arms. Claws raking, tearing through fabric and the flesh beneath. Finn put my arms up to guard any vital spots, mainly the head and upper torso.

  Playing the defensive wasn't his main goal, but to stall for time. Time for him to accumulate mana towards my arms, and discharge a more powerful blast of air that pushed Gevrog off of us.

  Panting heavily, Finn stood up with great effort. The fight had greatly taken a toll on my battered body. This wasn't a fight we could win.

  And just as I thought of that, something flew towards us in a blur and impaled my body against the large tree behind me. The shock undid the possession, and I was now back in full control.

  With trembling hands, I reached out to the cold metallic flagpole firmly planted into my left abdomen. But that was the least of my concern, as the undead apostles were slowly making their way here.

  In panic, I tried to push myself away only to be met with unbearable pain. Yet I persist, letting out a pathetic whimper as I continued. Centimeter by centimeter. Feeling the slight grooves on the surface of the pole scraping against my insides. A trail of red dripping out along its reflective sheen.

  The whimpers then turned into desperate cries. A plea for mercy, a cry of resentment at the unfair nature of this predicament, at the goddess herself.

  From the start, it had been a battle of attrition wasn't it? It was a battle I was never going to win.

  Realizing that all was for nought, I stopped my desperate attempts to cling onto life. "I'm sorry..." I whispered under my breath. To those that have put their faith in me, who had hoped that I would deliver retribution, but especially... to the ones that have accompanied me throughout my journey.

  "I'm sorry that it had to be me..."

  So I hung my head low and closed my eyes, sensing the apostles standing before me. I could hear Cyril growl as he pressed his claw against my throat. Slowly applying pressure, drawing a tiny drop of blood then—

  Bang!

  ...

  What...?

  My shoulders flinched at the familiar sound of gunshot.

  Gunshot!? In a world currently in its medieval period, where swords and sorceries are the norm.

  I opened my eyes and saw the apostle before me just… stopped. Before falling to the ground as if the strings holding them up had been cut. In the distance, the demon lord was kneeling hunched over, blood dripping from his forehead.

  I turned to where my companions were, and much like me, they were flabbergasted at the sight before them. Unsure how to even start explaining what had happened.

  It didn't take long for the answer to reveal itself. Or should I say, himself.

  "Good work," a voice came from beside me followed with a tap on the shoulder. Startled, I looked to the side to see a man who had seemingly appeared from the forest surrounding the cemetery.

  One thing that immediately stood out to me was his appearance. Foreign for this world's standards, but familiar to a person who came from 21st century Earth. Ripped skinny jeans, white t-shirt with an abstract graphic, and a tan trench coat over it.

  "Who—"

  He put his hand up, telling me to stop, before rummaging through his coat for a small object which looked like a cooking torch. I turned my head away and listened to the distinct hiss as he used the flame to cut through the steel pole.

  "Grit your teeth," he briefly warned before dislodging me from the pole.

  I almost passed out from the pain, limbs trembling while I desperately tried to clog off the gaping hole. Knees slowly giving out and forcing me to sit on the grass. The man however, seemed unperturbed, once again rummaging through his coat for a small vial of red liquid.

  He lobbed it into my lap and curtly ordered, "Drink," and then his attention shifted away to the demon lord's corpse.

  I picked it up, and scrutinized the small dosage. All things considered, this tiny amount should have little effect on a body as battered as mine. But I'm willing to accept anything at this point.

  So I twisted the plastic screw cap off and swallowed it all in one gulp. Surprisingly, it lacked that acrid taste of usual potions, and more similar to cough syrup than anything.

  Anyway, the potion immediately took effect. Perhaps a little too well. Normally, a potion would only hasten the clotting process, stopping the bleeding quickly so that one would stay alive long enough to get it properly treated.

  But this one, I noticed how it "Recreated" the wounded body parts layer by layer. From the veins to muscle tissue, and eventually skin. And unsurprisingly, it hurt like hell.

  "Karin!" Finn was the first to come up to me. "Did that man sneak something into the potion? You shouldn't drink strange concoctions from strangers, you know?"

  "Can you stand?" Caldwell asked amidst Finn's incessant pestering.

  "Yeah," I then stood up. Noticeably still quite exhausted and shaken after a near-death experience. Turning towards the direction of the man next hoping to make some sense of this situation.

  It's hard to believe that someone like the demon lord, a goddamn evil incarnate, met his end in a dull manner. A bullet to the head... I guess there really isn't a problem you can't solve with a gun.

  "Excuse—"

  "I wouldn't get too close if I were you," he turned and walked away from the corpse. Hands in the pocket of his coat. He seemed oddly calm after giving away a cryptic warning.

  "Huh?"

  Then suddenly, the corpse of the demon lord began to twitch and shake uncontrollably as if it was experiencing a seizure. His flesh expanded, adding more mass to his muscles, tearing apart skin.

  In a panic, I ran and stood beside the man who was a few distance away. He looked towards the corpse with that dull brown eyes of his, calmly observing the transformation.

  "Shouldn't we—"

  "Nope," he interjected. "You would need to find and destroy every magic circle he etched inside of his body, in a specific order, otherwise you'd rig his corpse into a fleshy bomb. Continuously expanding until it eventually... Boom."

  He stopped to put on the goggles hanging around his neck before continuing. "There are about fifty of them. Some in his organs, but most littered throughout his muscle tissue which keeps shifting around. All controlled by one magic circle, the one responsible for his self-imposed necromancy."

  "Then it should be simple, no? What are you waiting for!?"

  "If you destroy the central system that's responsible for everything, including his ever expanding body, what do you think will happen? You go back to example one."

  A loud roar tore me away from the conversation. The demon lord's transformation had stopped, now the height of a two-story house at least. Not a single patch of skin remained, only pulsating mass of muscles and whatever organs were left. Surging into a mindless rage, designed to sow chaos everywhere it goes.

  If the transformation was conjured by a magic circle, and then it stopped, it could only mean one thing, "There's only the main magic circle left..."

  "Bingo," he said with a snap of his fingers. "Though he's smart enough to put a teleportation gimmick to it when he was designing it."

  Then that means it'd also take quite some time to find it and finally put this thing to an end. And I don't know if I would be able to hold out. I'd just be a burden to him...

  As if having sensed my distress, he suddenly said, "'The hero always win in the end,' but in the case that you don't, you can always count on a substitute."

  He brought two fingers into his mouth and whistled to grab the undead demon lord's attention. It stopped its mindless rampage and made its way towards us.

  But something odd began to take place almost immediately. It started straying off- course, stumbling around and grasping at empty air. Growling in varying volume, which was slowly getting smaller and smaller.

  I turned to the man. Though covered by the slightly dark tinted lens of the goggles, I could see a flicker of golden light emanating from his eyes. Dull, like the color of withered marigolds.

  He stretched his arms forward and a rifle materialized out of thin air. Throughout its wooden frame was pristine white bandages that were loosely wrapped around it.

  Steadying it with his other hand, he took aim. Mumbling under his breath, "So it has a predetermined path, huh? He might as well just give it to me on a silver platter..."

  A single shot rang, the bullet flew straight into the left chest of the transformed demon lord. Subsequently, what seemed like projections of him manifested in different areas and shot out a bullet each, targeting different body parts.

  And just as simple as that, the demon lord's desperate final attempt to wreak destruction on the continent was thwarted with a pull of a trigger.

  "Finally! I can end my shift early for today."

  "S-shift...?"

  "You really think I’m doing this solely out of the kindness of my heart?."

  "And who are you exactly?"

  "You haven't picked it up already? I'm your substitute."

  The rifle dematerialized and he started doing stretches on his arms and upper body. Nonchalantly, as if taking down a being of such caliber was just any other day.

  But really, what I have a problem with was, what did that say about me? Three years of my life being more or less kidnapped to this world, made to fulfill some prophecy only to find out that I could've had someone else to do it for me?

  "So... What should I do now?"

  "I don't know," he shrugged. "Go back, report your victory, live happily ever after with the crown prince. If you couldn't tell already, consultancy isn't a staple of ours."

  "Do you seriously think I could lie about it? Don't mess with me..."

  An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. His right hand lifted and ruffled his already messy bed of hair. "You're the self conscious type. That already makes you better than half of the little shits I've dealt with, but damnit— People like you are still a hassle."

  "Ah— S-sorry..."

  "Like I said, you're at the top fifty percent. No need to sweat over it," he replied with a lighter tone. His middle finger flicking against my forehead. "And we usually leave the heroes to their own devices. You're bound to do the right thing after all."

  "And if I mess up?"

  "Then you keep fighting to set things right."

  He pulled out a digital camera from the pocket of his coat and took a picture of the cemetery. He then held it vertically and held onto a switch next to the shutter button. The lens extended and projected four dots suspended in mid-air.

  A gentle whir could be heard as the four dots move in a clockwise motion forming a circle amidst its trail. The space within its border began to distort as it collapse in on itself. Briefly contorting into a void that threatened to suck everything in, before instantaneously shifting into a dull visage of a pristine white room.

  "Well, I shall bid you... adieu," he bowed dramatically and stepped towards the other side.

  I couldn't think of how to respond, just know that I needed to say something. My legs moved on their own as I reached out to his retreating figure.