Chapter 176: Chapter 176

A hero must face trials. They’re world-class ordeals meant to forge a true hero.

For Eve—who had already undergone demonic transformation, effectively becoming a monster wielding the Holy Sword—it wasn’t a difficult trial.

When I asked what she’d done, she simply said:

“I punished some bad people and killed a big monster.”

The Holy Sword, Peacemaker†, does not reveal its power until drawn. Because of that, Eve could wield it alone without difficulty.

Then what of the one who didn't have the Holy Sword?

‘She disappeared all of a sudden, and I figured she’d manage just fine.’

Apparently, not quite.

‘Each one is walking the path given to them.’

Most of those paths were ones I created. It was my responsibility—and I was handling it.

And leaving behind Glory, someone with a potential of [3.0], was sheer lunacy.

‘Then what kind of path should Glory walk?’

That question had weighed on me for the past six months—and finally, I reached a surprising conclusion.

‘⋯⋯He, too, has a path.’

And with that thought in mind, I prepared a path for him.

At the cost of 1.3 million Hika.

After the war 15 years ago, there had always been a shortage of manpower.

Especially in nations obsessed with religious ceremonies. The Holy Virgin Church had a period known as the Triduum where no labor was permitted. And so, the nobles devised a brilliant workaround. The scriptures forbade forcing humans to work, yes? Then the solution was simple: have those who aren’t human do it. And in their eyes, slaves weren’t human.

“In the Barony of Umben in Kreutz, there’s an underground slave market. Glory got caught while trying to save someone being trafficked—they turned it around and accused him of being the offender.”

That came from the assassin.

“I thought he got picked up by the guard.”

“He did, but he wasn’t a Kreutz citizen and had no clear ID. So they handed him off to the traffickers.”

Even without seeing it, I could picture the scene. That tactless idiot Glory must’ve gone, “Human trafficking is wrong...!!” and gotten beaten up for it.

“Did that bastard at least wash his hair?”

“...Obviously. He washes it every day. So did Glory.”

Then I’ll go easy on him.

I’ll hit him once instead of twice.

I kept walking with the assassin until we reached a long corridor that sloped down into the underground, just beyond the outskirts of the city.

I had the assassin stand by and descended alone.

On the way down, I used [Illusion] to draw a † cross on my cheek—just enough to pass for a Kreutz local.

Though the entrance outside had been dead quiet, the interior buzzed with noise.

People wandered in groups of two or three, bartering and buying slaves.

Men, women, children, elders—shackled and hollow-eyed, they shuffled along.

A child collapsed under the crack of a whip. He looked to be about fourteen or fifteen.

“You little shit. You’re not getting up!?”

The boy staggered upright, clutching his back in pain. The man grabbed his neck and yanked his chin up.

“Why the fuck aren’t you moving when I tell you? Want me to send you to your whore of a mother too, huh!?”

“Walk. Properly! Don’t piss me off. You fucking slave piece of shit—”

That was just how it was here.

I turned away and walked on.

“Looking for something specific, sir?”

A man approached with a smile. A slave merchant.

I had deliberately dressed in my most expensive outfit, polished to perfection. I must have looked like some foreign noble.

“I’m looking for the most expensive slave you have.”

“Oh, I see! Then you’re in luck. We just got a premium specimen in stock.”

“Indeed! Tall, handsome, very sturdy. Heh... Please, right this way.”

Once I’d gotten the general layout of the place, I vanished from sight. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel★fire.net

“Huh? Where the hell did he go...?”

Hidden by the [Concealment Veil], I began searching for Glory.

Sure enough, there was a row of cages that held the most expensive stock.

And Glory was among them.

Right in the center of a cage illuminated by two torches, perfectly positioned for display.

Kneeling with his eyes closed, his arms shackled in chains. His posture still ramrod straight.

But his face was bruised and swollen in several places, his lips split and bleeding.

Display setups are always deliberate.

While the other slaves were prettied up for sale, Glory was a wreck—no doubt because the merchants believed this look would sell better.

And despite being just slavers, their instincts weren’t wrong.

No one admires a hero who’s spotless and unscathed.

It’s the hero who gets back up after being beaten down that gives people hope.

And that’s exactly what he looked like.

Which is why I had to say it.

“So this is what you’ve come to, huh?”

I cast [Illusion] again to block all sound around us.

Only then did I speak.

Glory slowly opened his eyes at the sound of my voice.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even look glad.

“Pathetic. You couldn’t even overcome a single trial, and now you’re stuck in a cage.”

He looked completely at ease, like someone who didn’t even want hope.

“Why are you so calm?”

“Can’t I be? Do I need to suffer just because I got caught?”

“You’re the kind who’s always suffering—so why act so dignified now? You should be even more miserable.”

Glory shrugged slightly.

“I’ve never really suffered.”

“Chronic depression is just a matter of personality. It doesn’t hurt. You know why? Suffering is a kind of resistance. It’s what you feel when you try to move forward through the waves, when you fight back against the pressure bearing down on you. But I’ve never once resisted the fate I was given.”

“And your current situation—does that count as part of your fate?”

“It does. Sometimes you hit a wall doing the right thing. That’s fate too. It’s not something to avoid just because it’s unpleasant. Once you accept it, you become free.”

He said all this with unsettling composure.

“Even if it means everyone else walks toward death... are you really fine with failing to fulfill your destiny as a hero?”

“In fact, I’d rather ask you—why do you cling so desperately to life? Why go out of your way to save me? Why do you rage just because I can’t wield the Holy Sword? When all could be gained through acceptance.”

I forced back a laugh and asked calmly,

“What exactly is it you gain?”

Glory shouted, his torn lips cracking further as he did.

That same infuriating attitude that drove everyone mad back in Count Kahla’s territory.

And also the most twisted trait of his that I had to break.

‘This bastard must not be free.’

Glory is like a student who must get into Seoul National University.

If he doesn’t get in, he spirals. Smashes his phone with a hammer, spirals harder, and studies like a lunatic to make it happen. That’s what it takes for him to become a hero, even without ever drawing the Holy Sword.

“Only freedom can save us all. Let go of obsession. Accept conflict and pain. Stop longing for what can’t be reached. Stop fearing failure. Stop condemning myself. Only then... can one truly be free.”

I savored those words for a moment and closed my eyes.

It was... fascinating.

I was starting to understand this person called Glory.

He was heavily fortified—mentally speaking. He had to be. His destiny had already collided with reality, and yet he refused to run from it.

In short, this was the truth:

Glory wanted to be a hero.

Desperately, even insanely so.

But he no longer had the body to become one.

Still, he kept trying.

And in trying, he must’ve thought it over a thousand times—and chosen to affirm himself. To embrace freedom.

Don’t compare yourself to Eve.

Don’t compare yourself to the stronger ones.

Don’t call yourself trash.

Don’t fall into self-hatred.

Because if he did, he couldn’t go on living.

So this “freedom” he kept preaching about—was a survival mechanism. A personal belief to stave off suicide.

Strangely enough, there was hope in his words. I spoke sincerely.

“I’m genuinely surprised. That’s... a powerful idea, Glory.”

“Until now, I only ever thought of you as a hopeless worm. I judged too hastily.”

“You’re right. In many ways, the dead are freer than the living—and those unborn freer still. The reason countless religions seek enlightenment through discipline... is because that is the most ideal form of freedom.”

In the forged timelines I’d seen, Glory had met death repeatedly. Like when he dove into Bomiteka’s mouth to save a mother and child.

This wasn’t just philosophical drivel. He had found his own answers within that freedom.

As far as Glory the individual went, there was no problem. If he was at peace, so be it.

But I was the one managing humanity’s total combat force in preparation for the Demon King War.

“Then let me ask you something.”

It was a simple question.

“If you’re so free... why haven’t you killed everyone here?”

The torchlight wavered. Voices echoed in the background. Chains clinked. A nearby slave merchant coughed. The faint metallic scent of blood drifted past.

Over the past six months, I’d obtained Glory’s criminal record. And when I read through it, I was internally horrified.

‘He didn’t just kill a few people.’

When someone says a person committed murder, I assume they knew the risks—any fighter does. But this wasn’t manslaughter or killing in self-defense.

We already knew Glory and Eve had been discovered in a remote mountain village. A pastoral hamlet by a stream, where the village chief’s house stood.

Glory had killed nearly every person in that village.

At least 107 confirmed dead.

You lose the right to wield the Holy Sword for taking a single innocent life. He killed over a hundred.

Sure, there was a reason. The Hiaka Guard's report suggested it was due to the lingering effects of a [Curse].

But I don’t just hate the crime—I hate the criminal too. Once someone’s succumbed to a curse, there’s no guarantee they won’t again.

And now... I was reconsidering.

We had a new hero candidate who could wield the Holy Sword. Was there really a reason to keep Glory alive?

‘Curses are intrinsic. Only the cursed can know if they’re healed. If there’s even the slightest hint he’ll do something like that again... I’ll just eliminate him.’

If he becomes a threat to humanity, I’ll kill him.

If he sides with us, I’ll sacrifice everything to support him.

That’s the principle I follow in preparing for the Demon King War.

After that, I used [Time Forgery] multiple times to peer into Glory’s future.

With my mana reserves, I could glimpse up to 80 days in a single frame. I did this often, watching his path unfold.

And in those forged futures, Glory repeatedly faced hardship.

But he never committed another crime.

He once grew depressed after failing to find a discarded cigarette on the street—but he never stole one.

And he kept helping others. Freely. With no expectation of reward.

Couldn’t draw the Holy Sword. Had murdered innocents. Was mentally shattered. Yet he kept trying to act good.

Even in situations where only the Holy Sword could resolve things, he tried to act good—only to have it trip him up again and again.

In essence, he was justice without power.

He had once massacred innocents, and now, here, he refused to kill again.

And he knew exactly why.

He was just avoiding it.

And then—his eyes flickered with killing intent.

Wrapped the ceiling-mounted chain around his neck several times.

Then dropped his weight.

His neck snapped audibly as the thick chain dug into his skin.

Inside that half-height cage—barely tall enough to sit in—he was attempting suicide.

I drew my sword and jabbed it between the bars.

The chain snapped with a single strike. Glory crashed to the floor, eyes wide and monstrous.

This was his true nature.

The man who cried out for freedom—was the least free person in the world.

“I’ll give you a choice.”

Telling him to act social, or to look like a hero—that was surface-level.

But this—this was something else entirely.

To save the world, many must ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) die. Hundreds are right here, in fact.

“Become the kind of hero... who kills people.”