The Demon Lord’s castle loomed. Our party was broken. Everyone chose the hero.
And I smiled—because in the end, the one who endures the betrayal and refuses to break… always wins.
I smiled. A thin, cracked smile.
I ripped the Demon Lord’s darkness apart with my own borrowed shadows. I absorbed his final scream into my chest. When the dust cleared, I was the only one standing. The hero’s corpse lay to my left. The girls stared at me—no longer with pity, but with terror and awe.
“You chose the hero,” I said quietly. “The hero lost. I won.”
But I didn’t leave.
Instead, I ground my teeth. I opened a forbidden grimoire we’d looted months ago—the one Leon called “too dangerous.” It was a tome of sacrificial magic: To take everything from the one who took everything from you.