People stared at the screen, then at Damian, then at the king. Some clutched their heads, whispering, "What have we done…?" Others began to sob, realizing what they had thrown at their savior—the hatred, the stones, the calls for his death.

Fear crept in too.

If this was what they had done to the hero who saved them… what would happen to them now?

But more than anything, one emotion began to boil among the crowd.

Hatred.

Not for Damian.

For the king and the traitors who had framed him.

Rocks began to fly—but this time, toward Marco and his entourage.

"Traitor!"

"Liar!"

"Murderer!"

Soldiers rushed to shield the king, raising shields and forming a wall as stones and debris rained down. Orders were barked, and soon blades were drawn.

Marco's face twisted. "Insolent maggots! Attacking your own ruler!"

He raised his hand.

"Soldiers! Cut them down!"

The soldiers obeyed.

Steel flashed as they charged into their own people.

Chaos erupted.

Screams, blood, panic.

Civilians turned and ran, some fighting back with whatever they could grab. Others cried out toward Damian, begging now not for his death, but for his help.

Alex turned to him.

"Aren't you going to save them, Mr. Hero?" he asked quietly.

Damian's eyes stayed fixed on the king.

"No," he said. "I've done enough for them already. The king is now attacking his own people. That proves the dark arts have already corrupted his mind."

He raised his hand.

"Now my only targets are him… and those who killed Amara."

"Escalion."

A beautiful, deadly sword materialized in Damian's grasp—its blade gleaming with holy light and built‑up resentment. Mana exploded from his body, cracking the ground beneath his feet.

Marco flinched at the pressure.

"D‑Damian," he stammered, "do not make any rash decisions. You remember your family is still captive, don't you? Make a move against me and your family will die!"

Damian took a step forward.

Then he stopped.

Marco's tense face relaxed into a cunning smile. "Good decision," he said. "Now do as I command—and kill that silver‑haired angel who has foiled my plans."

Damian turned his head, looking at Alex.

In that instant, their eyes met.

And the man who had killed the Demon King—the strongest in that world—felt his instincts scream.

'If I so much as raise my sword against him… I will die.'

Alex saw the hesitation and smiled.

"Smart move," he said. "And don't worry about your family. I've already sent someone to save them."

Damian's eyes widened. "Who are you? And why are you helping me? Are you really an angel sent by the goddess?"

Alex burst into laughter.

"So you think an angel would kill innocents like that?" he asked.

"Then who—no, what are you?" Damian demanded.

"I am the devil," Alex replied calmly. "Just know that."

Before Damian could answer, a voice called from below the platform.

"Alex, we're done here too!"

Alex looked down.

Elaria and Jacob stood there, and behind them were an older woman and two children—a boy and a girl—staring up at the hero with wide eyes.

Damian's heart clenched.

"Mary… Rey… Aunt Myra…" he whispered.

They were safe.

Tears spilled from his eyes as his siblings and aunt waved at him, calling his name.

---

"Now you're free," Alex said. "It's up to you what you do with this kingdom. You can burn it to the ground… or rebuild it into something stronger, so pests like that king never raise their heads again."

Damian nodded slowly.

He turned his gaze toward Marco, who was now sweating bullets, backing away step by step.

In a blur, Damian moved.

Soldiers surrounding the king fell in spray of blood—legs, arms, torsos severed before they even realized he had moved. Escalion sang through the air.

Marco screamed as his hand was sliced off at the wrist, the severed limb thudding onto the stone. Blood splattered the ground.

Damian's gaze shifted.

His former companions stood a short distance away.

A woman trembled, bow in hand, arrow aimed weakly at Damian.

A hulking man with a greatsword hesitated, unable to bring himself to swing.

A robed magician held a massive fireball ready in his palms, sweat pouring down his face.

"You three were always useless to me," Damian said calmly. "But you shouldn't have killed the one person who loved me with all her heart. She never wronged you. She helped you in your worst moments."

His eyes moved from one to the next.

"Calista," he said to the archer.

"Orion," to the swordsman.

"Viktor," to the mage.

Calista's lips trembled. "Damian, we were just following orders—"

She loosed her arrow in panic.

Damian tilted his head and dashed forward.

Escalion flashed.

Her legs were cut cleanly at the knees.

She crashed to the ground, screaming.

The others panicked and attacked, but Damian was already there. In a series of swift, brutal strikes, he severed their legs, then followed through and took their heads.

Blood pooled around their corpses.

Finally, he turned back to Marco.

The king was stumbling backward, eyes wide with pure terror.

"No… no, please don't… forgive me…!" he begged.

Damian's sword vanished.

He didn't strike.

Not yet.

He stepped forward and began to beat Marco with his bare fists.

Punch after punch crashed into the king's face. Bone cracked, teeth flew, blood sprayed. Damian's knuckles split and bled, but he didn't stop until Marco was a swollen, barely recognizable mess.

Only then did Escalion reappear in his hand.

In front of the watching crowd, with no hesitation, Damian swung.

Marco's head separated from his neck in a clean cut.

Damian caught it by the hair and raised it high, roaring from the depths of his chest.

The square went silent.

Alex, Elaria, and Jacob watched it all from a short distance away. Elaria and Jacob covered the children's eyes, shielding them from the worst of it.

"Calling yourself an angel, seriously," Elaria muttered.

"So what?" Alex replied. "I'm an angel with a pure heart."

"Who didn't blink once while killing civilians," Jacob mumbled.

Alex shot him a glare.

Jacob bowed quickly. "I'm sorry…"

Damian slowly walked toward them.

His aunt and siblings ran first, throwing themselves at him, wrapping their arms around his waist and shoulders.

"You guys are the only reason I'm still sane," Damian said, voice shaking as he hugged them back.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Aunt Myra whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mary and Rey cried harder, clinging to him.

When they calmed a little, Damian gently let them go and walked up to Alex.

"Thank you for everything you've done," he said. "I'll always be grateful to you. I'm going to move somewhere else and live a peaceful life with them… far away from this cursed country."

He bowed deeply.

Alex smirked. "Just shut up and go. That's why I don't like heroes or whatever—they're all idiots."

Reality began to dissolve.

The square, the corpses, the screams—all of it broke apart into particles of light.

In an instant, everything vanished.

They were back in the World Tree's inner sanctum.

Mirina's figure reformed in front of them, her robes fluttering softly as if in a wind only she could feel.

"You have already cleared the trial," she said, smiling. "I must say… that was too fast—and very entertaining to watch. I've never seen anyone claim to be an angel quite like that."

She glanced at Alex, whose ears turned slightly red.

"I have to say," Mirina continued, "it was one of the most entertaining things I have ever witnessed. The World Tree itself was speechless at how you handled it."

She clasped her hands together.

"And now… it is time for the result."

Elaria, Alex, and Jacob all held their breath, waiting for the next words to come out of Mirina's mouth.

---

A/N:

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