Operation: Rescue Hillen Cargill
Hillen Cargill had always been confident in himself.
When he first awakened as a Hero, he believed he was special.
There were thousands of Heroes, true—but they were thousands chosen from countless living beings across the continent.
And among them, Hillen Cargill was one of the very few born with composite talents.
Affinity for mana.
Understanding of magic.
And on top of that, understanding of aura, along with physical talent and sharpened senses.
He learned the magic of thunderbolt and aura at the same time, becoming one of the rare Magic Swordsmen.
Compared to his blessed talents, he hadn't risen to fame in an instant, but he quickly solidified his footing as a Hero.
After killing the Lust Demon Lord and becoming one of the few survivors, he finally began to spread his name across the continent, no longer confined to Hilderan.
From there on, the road had been smooth.
He suffered a failure he hated to recall when he met the Flame Demon Lord, but in the end, it became a blessing in disguise.
After achieving countless feats, he slew the Beast Demon Lord, became the Argane of the Hero Guild, and became the first to rescue a princess moments before her abduction.
He wasn't merely walking a path—he was ready to spread his wings and soar.
The incident in the Snowfield should have cemented that.
'I… I…'
Hillen Cargill let out a ragged breath.
His feet sank deep into the snow. The violent blizzard tore at his vision.
He shook the snow from his head, but in moments it whitened again.
He crouched at the shadowy figure in the distance. Crawling forward, he approached slowly. Through the blizzard, he sensed the scent of a monster.
'A Yeti.'
One of the most common monsters in the Snowfield. They weren't pack creatures, so there likely wouldn't be more.
But the moment he killed it, the scent of blood would draw monsters in. And most of them would be the minions of the Frost Demon Lord searching for him.
'I have to avoid it.'
He had to avoid battle.
Fortunately, the Yeti hadn't noticed him. Hillen suppressed his presence to the limit, crawled in a wide arc, and passed the creature.
'Am I going the right way?'
It had already been a week since the monsters first began chasing him.
To escape, he had to go south. But the pursuit party—made of demons, demonic beasts, and monsters—was relentless. He had no time to think about direction as he fled.
The food stored in his subspace was still enough, and he still had mana and stamina left, but the tension and cold drained him by the day.
'How did it come to this?'
Everything had been perfect until the moment he reached the tower.
But then the unopened tower doors opened on their own—and hell began.
Two High Demons lunged at Hillen Cargill.
When he handled them easily, three attacked. When he endured them, four came.
By the time he narrowly escaped their pressure, the battle was already over. The Crimson Hawk had scattered, their survival uncertain, and Gillian Aint's arm had been severed. The White Eagle supported him as they broke through the encirclement.
Cursing, Hillen fled with Granada, who had managed to stay by his side.
Perhaps because of White Eagle's fierce resistance, the encirclement had loosened considerably.
The two barely escaped, but the enormous horde chasing them naturally forced them apart.
'If only they had all chased that elf instead.'
The Demon Lord would be furious, but he valued him over an elf anyway.
Yet the situation was the exact opposite.
So many monsters and demonic beasts chased Hillen instead of Granada that it made no sense.
After that, he barely remembered how he had made it this far.
He just ran, fought, and ran again.
Without even a moment to breathe, they kept coming, painting the snow red with monster blood and his own.
Whether by misfortune or fortune, if the blizzard had not been so harsh as to block visibility, he wouldn't even have this brief chance to breathe.
'What should I do?'
Had he known it would come to this, he should have listened to Gillian Aint.
No—he should have listened when the Demon Lord warned him.
'The Frost Demon Lord must've known. That most of the Snowfield was her territory… that she commanded this many minions.'
Of course—being a fellow Demon Lord, he would know. That was why he tried to stop him.
'Damn it…!'
Perhaps the Demon Lord had known he would fail. Perhaps he was laughing inwardly.
'I will return alive.'
He had far too much ambition to give up everything here. He had yet to become the greatest Hero.
That was when—
Thud, thud—
Snowflakes trembled faintly. Hillen froze. Holding his breath, he scanned his surroundings.
His vision was still obstructed by the blizzard. But when he waited calmly, he finally saw a distant shadow.
Krrrk—
Ice Drakes and Ice Trolls.
Two monster species who normally despised each other walked together in a large spread formation.
A sight that should have been impossible—meaning they were minions of the Demon Lord.
Hillen calculated their path. They would cross his position. Could he slip by undetected?
Impossible. Running would expose him; crawling was too slow.
What if he fought?
He was confident. Even exhausted, he could kill a few dozen monsters with ease and escape.
But the real problem was the delay—and the screams and blood that would draw yet another horde.
'Damn it…!'
Hillen burrowed into the snow. Fortunately, the Snowfield's snow was deep, and it was still piling up.
He quietly but quickly dug underground. His tracks disappeared under fresh snowfall.
He didn't know how long he waited when he felt the heavy thudding above him. The monsters were passing right over him.
He held his breath even tighter.
The tremors faded rapidly. Only when they disappeared completely did he let out a sigh of relief.
"…Did I survive?"
"Do you think so?"
"...!"
A chilling voice stabbed into his ear. Hillen's eyes widened. He flared his mana and spat lightning.
But no one was there.
"Come up."
A presence came from above his head.
A blatant demonic aura—immense and oppressive.
'A High Demon.'
Why hadn't he noticed until the demon came right to him?
There were excuses. He'd been focused on the monsters. He'd suppressed his presence so much it had muffled his own detection.
But none of that mattered.
Hillen rose to the surface. The demon waited patiently for him.
"I am Armand of the Frost Demonkin."
The Frost Demonkin looked nearly human in appearance. Their snow-white skin was merely pale. But the thick demonic aura radiating from him was unmistakably inhuman.
"And you must be Hillen Cargill?"
Armand stroked his beard.
'Can I win?'
He was different from the High Demons Hillen had faced in front of the tower.
His physique was small, but the presence—the pressure he radiated—was far greater.
Strong.
Stronger than any demon Hillen had ever fought, save for the Demon Lords themselves.
Hillen slowly drew his sword. He activated his mana, ready to release lightning at any moment.
"Are you finished preparing?"
"You seem relaxed. People like that usually get killed for it."
"Perhaps that may be the case."
At that moment, Hillen Cargill's senses—no longer suppressing his aura—picked up countless presences around them.
"But not today."
Armand smiled. With a sharp cracking sound, an ice spear formed in his hand.
"I am not alone."
"You have no intention of letting me go, do you?"
"I've heard you were polite, but I didn't expect you to be polite even to me."
"You still haven't answered."
"If you were in my place, would you let someone who came to kill you simply walk away?"
"I had no intention of killing you."
"You do understand that makes it even more insulting, don't you? For a mere human to say so."
"Did you chase me here on purpose?"
"The Demon Lord is merciful. Even toward a human foolish enough to trespass on Her territory, She maintains etiquette and bestows grace."
"You mean to spare me?"
"Quite a number of humans will escape the Snowfield safely. Everyone except you."
"…Why me?"
'Don't tell me…'
Had the Demon Lord Berze chosen to abandon him?
'Impossible.'
He shook his head. Hillen Cargill was an officer of the Hero Guild—its Argane—and a Hero who had slain two Demon Lords.
To abandon someone like him would be no different than the Demon Lord giving up on conquering the continent.
'There's no way She would do that.'
He had confidence… in himself, and in his Demon Lord.
"What are you thinking about so deeply?"
"Why me?"
"Because you killed two Demon Lords."
"So you intend to crush the sprout before it grows?"
"Consider it an honor. The Demon Lord Herself has ordered that your sprout be crushed."
"Go to hell."
"They say one's true nature shows when pushed into a corner. You're no different."
"What, should I get on my knees and thank you for your cheap mercy?"
Even while spitting curses, Hillen's mind was racing.
The monsters were drawing closer. This High Demon was stalling for time, tightening the encirclement to capture him more completely.
But he couldn't strike recklessly—Armand showed no openings.
Even so, he had to act.
'I won't die.'
To enjoy everything he had built… to climb even higher…
He tightened both hands around his sword.
"Go on then. Seeing a Hero—one praised by humans—kneeling, pressing his head to the ground before the Demon Lord, begging for mercy… It wouldn't be a bad sight. Well? Will you do it?"
"Go. To. Hell."
Light flashed. A blue streak ripped through the air. A line of lightning slashed toward Armand's neck.
A crystal of ice materialized out of nowhere, blocking the strike.
CRASH—!
The shattered fragments became projectiles, scattering in all directions like deadly shards.
The trembling shockwave kicked up the white snow around them.
Hillen Cargill rode the recoil, throwing himself into the air, expelling mana in a burst to propel himself forward.
A massive wave of mana surged. Blue thunder sparked wildly and exploded toward the Frost Demonkin.
What came after—he didn't bother to check.
He steadied his ragged breath, suppressed the raging mana, and turned to sprint in the opposite direction.
A monster horde filled his sight.
Yetis, trolls, drakes—and that one was a demonic beast.
Some he recognized, some he had never seen before. Some looked weak, others looked impossible to handle.
But whether he could or couldn't didn't matter.
If he wanted to live—
He had to.
Pzzzzzt—!
He layered magic atop his aura.
The Demon Lord's blessing made his aura erupt with even greater force.
He swung his sword. The cleaving strike pierced the blizzard and drew blood.
KROOOAR—!
An Ice Drake breathed its freezing breath.
A nameless demonic beast slammed down its massive fist.
Hillen blocked, parried, and cut.
Their roars and screams rang until his ears buzzed. The metallic scent of blood numbed his nose.
He swung his sword in a trance. No monster or demonic beast could stand before him.
Monsters or demonic beasts.
"Ha…"
Hillen laughed emptily after breaking through the encirclement.
"Didn't I tell you?"
Armand's voice came from behind him.
"I didn't come alone."
"You brought all the demons from the tower?"
"Not all. But enough that you won't find it lacking."
"You've overestimated me."
"Better that than underestimating you and letting you slip away."
Damn it.
Hillen bit his lip.
In front—dozens of demons.
Behind—a High Demon he couldn't confidently defeat even one-on-one.
Whichever way he ran, the other side would crash into his back.
'I can't die.'
Absolutely not.
Not like this.
Never.
He was someone who had even survived being captured by a Demon Lord.
The marble in his mind had not been created just to meet a pathetic end like this.
He began chanting.
The engravings and the mana-heart.
The aura and the aura-hole.
He activated everything.
Aura and mana—two different forces—raced through his veins. His blood blazed hot.
With a feverish breath, he stepped forward.
KWA-ROOOOM—!
The lightning-charged sword summoned thunder.
His vision inverted. Blue lightning evaporated the blizzard.
The demons unleashed their demonic energy. Black and red miasma howled.
BOOOOM—!
The world shook.
Demons were blown away. Hillen staggered one step back. Then took two steps forward.
A pure-white spear of frost targeted his back.
PZZT—
The lightning wrapped around his entire body weakened the chill. Just before the spear pierced his back, his sword stroke deflected it.
CLANG—!
The ricocheting spear curved back like a serpent.
Once it caught its prey, it refused to let go, drilling relentlessly toward him.
His charge halted—and the demons closed in.
"If we were anywhere else, I might have lost."
But this was the Snowfield, a land of raging blizzards.
Cold gnawed at Hillen—but it strengthened the Frost Demonkin.
Saaak—
The ice grazed Hillen's shoulder. Red droplets scattered.
Hillen's blood mixed with that of the demons.
He hurled the severed head of a nameless demon aside.
Around him, the corpses of demons and monsters were tangled together.
"Just a scratch now? Do you really think something like this can kill me?"
"So killing two Demon Lords wasn't simply luck after all."
But still—
"Clenching your power by force and pretending to stay calm won't work on me."
Armand manipulated his demonic energy. Frozen shards split into hundreds, mixing into the blizzard.
The blades shredded Hillen's body. He resisted, but the wounds accumulated.
Demons and monsters rushed him again.
A storm of blood erupted.
"Guhk…!"
He spat blood. At first, he had wanted to escape. But Armand clung to him relentlessly, and the demons' ambushes made it impossible to conserve his strength properly.
Now—
He no longer had the strength to break through those bastards and run.
He could still fight—
But only just.
It was hopeless. He didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.
'Is this… the end…?'
And then something squirmed inside his mind.
"...!"
It wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was filthy, even. But it rekindled the flame that had almost gone out.
'No way.'
They rushed him again.
Hillen squeezed out every last drop of strength he had. He fried monsters with lightning and cut off demonic beasts' heads. A demon struck from his blind spot—he exposed his flank and tore into its throat with his teeth.
BOOM—
A massive impact sent his body rolling across the snow. He spat out the demon flesh that lingered in his mouth and shook the snow from his face.
"You're persistent."
"I'm not dying here."
"That's not for you to decide."
"It's not for you either."
"What nons—?!"
Armand's head snapped around. Every demon, every demonic beast, every monster trembled. A grin tugged at the corner of Hillen Cargill's mouth.
The world brightened.
Heat washed over them.
It was flame.
Crimson flame.
So hot and pure that even the raging blizzard dared not touch it.
"…When did…?"
Armand was horrified.
Not just that flames of this magnitude existed—but that a force completely opposite to his own had hidden itself from his senses and approached this close.
This was Reina Sordein's territory, and Armand was her subordinate.
There was no way he shouldn't have noticed an intruder—especially one wielding such an opposing power.
A chill ran down his spine.
Dread flooded him, and Armand shouted:
"Everyone—!"
At that moment—
Fwoosh—
Flames carved a long arc through the sky.
Melting the untouchable blizzard.
Evaporating it.
Painting the rising steam a vivid scarlet.
And then it fell.
KWOAAAAAAAAAM—!
It was like a meteor.
A catastrophe descended from the heavens.
For a split second, Armand thought he saw a pair of wings above the falling calamity.
He didn't even have time to shout for retreat before the massive explosion consumed everything.
The white earth vanished. The hardened ground overturned.
Demonic energy flared desperately as demons burned.
Demonic beasts screamed.
Monsters rolled across the snowfield trying to extinguish the flames clinging to their bodies.
And then—
Through the crackling embers—
"You're right."
Scarlet eyes gleamed.
"I decide whether this bastard lives or dies."
Hoo—
Berze exhaled an excited breath.
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