I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

He recalled what he had seen in the church archives that year.

At that time, he had just drawn the Holy Sword and was invited to the Holy City to receive "Hero Training".

The training content was nothing more than etiquette, history, and the genealogy of the demon race—dry and boring. The only thing that interested him was the row of bookshelves on the second basement floor of the library.

There weren't many books on the shelf, but each one had a thick leather cover and the title was written in ancient characters in gold lettering on the spine.

The old priest who was leading the way said that these were the notes of heroes from all over the world, completely written by themselves, true records of their battles against the Demon King.

Alex pulled out the first book, the cover of which read: "The Third Hero - Sauron Redmond".

He turned to the first page; the handwriting was messy, as if it had been written in a state of extreme exhaustion.

"I freed the Holy Sword. I knew the price, but I did it anyway."

"In that battle, my magic was drained, and my memories began to fade. I couldn't remember what my mother looked like, the name of my hometown, or even my own name. But I don't regret it, because the Demon King died, and the kingdom was saved."

"Now I sit in the room the church prepared for me, pen in my hand, paper in front of me, yet I know not what to write. I know I am dying. The Holy Sword has used my life force as fuel, and it's almost burned out. I only want to leave a few words in my final moments—to the heroes who come after."

"Do not lightly unleash the Holy Sword. But if that day comes, do not hesitate. Because there are always things more important than life."

Alex, overwhelmed with emotion, put the book back on the shelf and pulled out a second one.

"The Seventh Hero - Cecilia von Habsburg".

The handwriting was neat and legible, but the last few pages became messy and crooked, as if a person who was losing strength was struggling to write their last words.

"I killed the Demon King, the Holy Sword broke, I won. But my memories went blank from the age of fifteen. I don't remember how I became the hero, I don't remember the faces of my teammates, I don't remember... why I became the hero. But they told me that I was the hero, that I saved the kingdom... that's probably enough."

"I often have a dream where someone is calling my name. The voice is warm, but I can't see the person's face. I try to grasp the voice, but it drifts further and further away."

"Today, I can't even remember that dream anymore... I'm scared. (This line was crossed out, but you can still make out what it roughly means.)"

Alex remembers standing in front of the bookshelf, holding the book in his hand, his knuckles white.

He turned to the last page, which contained only one sentence.

"But I am a hero, and I have no regrets."

He closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Then he pulled out the third, fourth, fifth... each one more or less the same—[Liberation] The Holy Sword, burning himself, killing the Demon King, being hailed as a hero by the world, and finally dying surrounded by flowers and crowds.

Some didn't even have time to finish writing their notes, leaving only a few pages of fragments.

Some didn't even leave their names; the cover only said "The... Hero".

But almost every book ends with a similar sentence:

I have no regrets.

Alex put the books back on the shelf one by one, handed the shelf key to the old priest, and said, "I've finished reading them."

The old priest looked at him, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes: "What you see here was written by heroes who defeated the Demon King. As for those who didn't... aren't you afraid?"

Alex thought for a moment and then said, "I'm scared, but what's coming will come."

……

Memories fade away like the tide.

Alex stood by the window, the distant firelight reflecting on his face and turning his blond hair a dark red.

He was silent for a long time.

He was wondering—what would happen to Kolde City if he didn't go?

He mentally rehearsed the battle: the Third Legion had already been defeated, and the Demon Vanguard was riding high on morale.

The city's garrison was insufficient, and the main force of the Knights Templar and other legions were thousands of miles away.

The first possibility: The remnants of the Third Legion fought desperately, with the city's guards and adventurers joining forces to defend the city. After suffering heavy casualties, they held out until reinforcements arrived. The city was saved, but the walls would be littered with corpses—both demons and humans.

The second possibility: The city fell. Demons poured in, and the High Patriarch broke the seal on the Sage's Crown. The passive ability drove all living beings in the vicinity in a very short time, leaving behind only a desolate wasteland shrouded in madness.

The third possibility: The High Patriarch is kind-hearted and did not release the Sage's Crown. The demons advanced unimpeded, the western border fell, and the Demon King's army's next target is the capital. The war will continue, more people will die, and more cities will be reduced to ruins.

There are three possibilities, none of which he wants to see.

Alex tapped his fingers lightly on the window frame, very slowly, as if weighing the weight of his own life.

He lowered his head and looked at the holy sword at his waist.

The runes on the scabbard glowed faintly with a golden light in the candlelight, as if they were asleep or waiting.

He knew the true power of the Holy Sword—to unleash the Holy Sword, burn himself, and gain power enough to sweep away everything.

The price was his memories, magic, life force, and... himself.

Mason's voice came from behind, trembling slightly: "Alex, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking..." he paused, "I'm thinking about how to end this."

"Closing things up? This isn't just your problem. The Third Legion still has troops, there are defenders on the city walls, and we still have—"

"Not enough," Alex interrupted her, turning to look into her eyes. "Mason, you know it's not enough."

Mason opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but found himself unable to utter a word.

She knew it wasn't enough.

From the moment the Third Army was defeated, she knew it wasn't enough.

"Then what do you want?" Her voice was a little hoarse. "Release the Holy Sword? The Demon King isn't here. Once it's released, you won't even be able to stop it. You'll just burn everything to ashes."

Alex did not answer.

Silence is an answer.

Mason's eyes reddened.

She suddenly stood up, rushed to Alex, and reached for the holy sword at his waist.

"Then I'll throw that broken sword away! Throw it far, far away! Let's see how you'll get rid of it—!"

Alex sidestepped, grabbed her wrist with his other hand, his grip light but steady.

"Mason."

"Let go of me!" She struggled, trying to pry his fingers off with her other hand, but couldn't. "You can't go! If you go, you won't come back! Do you know that?!"

"I know."

"Then why don't you—"

"I know." His voice was soft but firm, "but I am a hero, and it is my duty to protect all those who deserve protection."

Mason's struggles slowed down.

She finally couldn't hold back her tears, and they fell one by one, landing on the back of Alex's hand.

"You...you idiot..." Her voice trailed off, like pieces of paper scattered by the wind, "You're always like this...you never think about yourself..."

Alex released her wrist, raised his hand, and gently stroked her head.

The movements were very gentle, as if afraid of breaking something.

He then pointed his fingers like a knife and gently cut Mason on the back of the neck.

Mason's body went limp. He reached out and caught her, lifting her up and carrying her to Anna. The elven archers and dwarves, exhausted from the previous assassination attempt, were already asleep, and Alex had no intention of waking them to stop him.

Anna had already stood up, holding the Holy Scripture in her arms, her silvery-white hair trembling slightly in the candlelight.

There was no surprise on her face, only a faint, indescribable sadness.

She probably knew this day would come.

"Anna." Alex gently placed Mason in her arms. "Take care of her for me. When she wakes up, tell her... 'I'm sorry I can't go on this adventure with you.'"

Anna took Mason without saying a word, only nodding.

Alex turned around, walked to the table, and grasped the hilt of the holy sword.

The runes on the scabbard lit up for a moment, as if in response to his determination.

He pushed open the door, and the candlelight in the corridor flickered, casting a long shadow of him.

"Alex," Anna's voice came from behind, trembling slightly, "the Holy Light will guide you."

He didn't turn around, but slowly drew the holy sword. The light of the holy sword was brighter than usual, and it was increasing exponentially.

"I know, after all... I am the hero."

This was my own choice, a choice I will never regret.

Holy Sword, [Release]!