The False Hero chapter 1.

The False Hero.

Something I wrote a while back.

A placeholder before I post Spider-Man X. The next chapter is about 40% complete.

Unedited.


(??? Narrating)


400 years ago, the World was invaded by an Ego-maniac pouting world domination, eternal servitude to those who followed me and death to those who didn't.


Not...the best of deals. And I'm surprised he thought that would work.


What an idiot.


And for the plot twist of the story, I'm that Idiot.


As a result of my 'high treason' and blasphemy against Alpha, the Sovereign deity of the High Church, I was labelled, the Demon King.


Dan dun duuuun!


Well, technically the 567th Demon King to appear through the hundred billion years the world has been around.


My name, Atticus Drackaer, the Sword Demon King. A descendant of the first Demon Lord.


And this is the story of my life after death.


Ah... A bit morbid to start off such an underwhelming tale but really, who cares?


I've been talking or at least thinking to myself for the past 4 centuries. I couldn't get any madder than I am.


Or cynical either for that matter.


Which means, fair warning I might lie, exaggerate or leave details out, like my 5 second defeat at the hands of the Hero.


And who is a Hero you might ask?


Self-explanatory really but...with no way to escape this seal or entertain myself, I find myself inclined to tell you.


A Hero is a champion chosen by the Light of Alpha to defeat this generation's Demon King and restore Peace to the world.


All Heros are guaranteed to leave behind an incredible legacy. Their destinies are beholden to none except the accords and laws of the High Church of Alpha. And upon being chosen, they attain a status only second to the Pope himself.


And that guy has been around for thousands of years.


Heroes are essentially favored by the world due to their power and influence.


They are the complete opposite to the Demon King.


They are enemies.


My enemies.


My generation's Hero was the one who locked me away after all. Using a 3rd tear seal no less, just showing how weak...


How overwhelmingly powerful heroes were.


Anyway, you might wonder how I know it's been 400 years.


The prison I was in was a pocket dimension, a small reality cut off from the main reality and attached to an infinite energy source.


Said energy source ran to keep the Pocket Dimension from collapsing on itself.


But...since a few decades ago, the battery has been draining away, and my prison has been steadily shrinking.


Which does not bode well for me.


At all.


Imagine this, being suspended from Orichalcum chains wrapped around my entire body with no wiggle room over a pool of holy magma, whose heat was a torture to me due to my demonic heritage.


I have lost count of how many times my face has been burned off only for my regeneration to grow it back again.


That wasn't the worst part.


Now imagine the edges of this magma pool, a tub of white hot liquid, diminishing slightly over the years, eaten away by the literal void.


Yeah.


Let it not be said Spatial Magic is safe.


The Hero, whose name I've long since forgotten (not really) was an accomplished mage on top of being a genius of the Spear.


And yet, for all his magic,


"You couldn't get a simple 3rd tier spell correct!? Come on!"

I raged for the...meh, lost count.


Anyway, back to the initial question, how do I know it's almost been half a millenia?


Well, I could lie and say I've been counting out the seconds but...yeah, that doesn't sound like me.


The truth, as hard as it to believe, was even wilder.


There's a blue screen before my eyes.


Has been, for the last 400 years or so. Right about the time I was sealed away.


Infact, it was the very instant after being sealed away.


One second, that beautiful moonlight arc of the Hero's spear falls, the next I hear the Elven mage who was one of his party members chant, then the final second I open my eyes...and the first thing I see?


A blue screen, with the count of 00:00:01.


Then that 00:00:01 became 00:00:02,


00:00:03


00:00:04


10 years later?


10:06:14:07:23:01


From there, the screen transitioned from showing all the numbers to just the years.


And just like that, 20 years passed. Then 50, 100, 300...


Which brings us to now.


400 years later and after all that time, I'm finally about to die.


50 more years have passed. I'm still suspended above the Magma pool. My face just regenerated, although the heat would take care of that soon, turning me into a blackened skull once more.


If only I could die.


I curse my demonic bloodline. An average demon lifespan was around 5000 years old.


Direct descendants of Powerful Demons would retain some of their ancestor's power, passed down through blood.


As a result, it wouldn't be surprising if I lived for a few more thousand years.


Which wasn't much considering Elfs could live for tens of thousands of years, dragons were pushing the hundreds of thousands, though they instead chose to stay away from the lesser races.


An isolationist breed they were.


The only time you'd see a dragon is if they were descending onto a city or large town to plunder and hunt.


I digress.


My bloodline ensured I wouldn't die from the magma, (the seal was not designed to kill me, merely torture) but I was ABSOLUTELY going to die if the seal collapsed.


Nothing could survive the void.


NOTHING.


20 more years passed. The heat from the magma grew more oppressive, managing to not only turn my face into a charred mess but also cook my entire body underneath the Orichalcum chains.


470 years had passed.


If you're wondering why the chains did not melt away, Orichalcum is energy absorbent.


A metal that could drink in any type of energy then glow to reflect what it had consumed.


The chains around me were a silvery green. Silver from the holy power wafting off the Magma and Green because it drew in my demonic energy as well.


The metal was durable ontop of that as well and that durability only increased the longer more energy was fed into it.


20 more years passed.


It was harder to stay aware. Awareness brought with it unending agony.


The only thing that kept me going was stubbornness and hatred. A deep deep hatred for...myself.


For losing.


For not training hard enough.


For living an arrogant life.


For being weak.


For being okay with being weak.


For being a joke.


I hated myself too much to die. Death was an escape from the shame that was my life.


So I couldn't die. Not until I wiped that shame away. And for now, that was by persistently clinging to love like a cockroach.


All for the chance that maybe...just maybe...this wasn't the end.


My eyes had long since exploded from the heat. I couldn't see anything. Yet...despite being blind, the Blue Screen still floated before me.


That dastardly countdown continuing.


It said 499 years had passed.


By now, the heat from the magma was insane. The void had seemingly squeezed all that heat into a smaller zone, compressing it with the only avenue for escape being through me.


The chains were now more silver than green.


And despite my enduring physique, I was losing.


And then...it hit the 500 mark.


My heart stalled.


Without warning, the seal collapsed with me in it.


The final thought in my mind was...'if I could do it all over again...I wouldn't suck at being the Demon King. I would truly give it a chance.'


~0~


[Requirements Met]


[Unholy Fusion:- Holy Energy × Demonic Energy]


[Metamorphosis Available]


[Upgrade Class Sword Demon King into False Hero?]


Huh?


What is this?


I'm supposed to be dead right?


I looked around. Or tried to.


My neck muscles refused to move. And that's because I had none. Or a body for that matter.


I was aware. Only lacking substance.


The only thing I could perceive was the Blue Screen.


"Jeeze, you must be obsessed with me, having followed me to death and all."

Wait, I could speak?


No. Not speak, just materialize my thoughts. Weird. But not the most important thing I oughta be focusing on.


Turning my attention back to my front, I gaped at the information displayed.


Requirements met? For what?


And the Unholy Fusion...


I read and reread it, my confusion only growing stronger.


"That's impossible. Demonic energy and holy energy are totally incompatible."

If I had a head, I would have been shaking it.


It was something everyone and their grandma knew back home in the Demon Lands.


Numerous savant Alchemists and mages had tried to fuse both and had failed. It was one of the reasons the High Church regarded Demonkind as mortal enemies.


It was why there was a Hero for every Demon king and vice versa.


The last two notifications left me even more unsure.


And yet...a surge of excitement was blooming within me.


For this was already better than what I had envisioned Death would be.


Not to mention without the unending torture of getting my face burnt off every 10 years, it was better than what life had been for me.


And lastly...it presented a chance. A chance to undo my shame. A chance to become something more than I'd been.


Had the last notification said, 'change class' instead of ' Upgrade' like it did, I would have hesitated in choosing.


Then again, I wouldn't have. I wasn't the only Demon King with the Sword Demon King Class.


I was one of hundreds.


However, I'd never heard of a Class called False Hero. Neither had I ever heard or seen 90% of what the Blue Screen was displaying.


Whatever class you were born with remained for the rest of your life. Only the act of a deity could change that.


Welp, I guess it's an easy choice then.

"I accept. But if this fucks me over...I'll hunt the one who created this thing and Immolate their soul."

I said ominously, trying to inject the promise of malice into my words.


Yeah...nothing really happened.


Only the screen persisted before me, a question mark at the end of the gamble of a lifetime. Or deathtime.


"Ah...is something supposed to happ-"


Pain.


PAIN


SOMUCHFUCKINGPAINHURTSIDONTLIKETHIS!!!


[Conditions Accepted]


[Initiating Metamorphosis]