The Porter Has No Interest in the Hero’s Party

The same unchanging scenery in any incident can sometimes create an illusion of rewinding time.

A dark forest where even wild beasts held their breath. Breaking through the twigs diagonally leaning on the fortress walls, a man was climbing a rock with a bow on his back. Due to the bare trees and dark shadows, his moving figure sometimes felt like an illusion left by fatigue or an afterimage of seeing a bright flame.

The man awkwardly maneuvered his feet like someone unfamiliar, moving to a point where the fortress was not visible. After reaching a point where the fortress walls and rocks perfectly concealed his body, he took out a pen and paper from his pocket.

“Mister. Are you okay?”

When the hero’s group called me from the cliff below the castle walls, I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was fine. Mille, seeing me, said:

“I could have done this too.”

She said that while fiddling with her bow. Due to the late hour, even small voices could be heard vividly as if spoken right next to me. Lena tapped Mille’s bow with her finger and said:

“He wants to do it himself, so what. Why is our hero’s expression so dark? Are you worried our porter might fall?”

“What? Ah, no. No. Nothing.”

The hero, startled by Lena’s question, shuddered and shook his head hard like someone caught stealing. Laughter spread, and I bent down to write on the paper.

[Operation execution tomorrow evening. Will open the gate and wait.]

An exclamation came out thinking I had perfectly imitated that soldier’s handwriting. Satisfied, I folded the paper, attached it to an arrow, and stood up, faintly seeing the soldier’s corpse at the bottom of the rocky mountain. Eyes wide open, the corpse eaten by birds and insects represented the horrible pain he had suffered overnight with terrible scars.

I spat towards his face and then raised my head in the direction of the Demon King’s army.

I could see the encampment of the Demon King’s army stuck to the horizon like a scab. They were lighting fires for cooking, moving like ants for training, and living and breathing on this land. I straightened my chest, grabbed the bow, and pulled it with all my might.

I remembered when Lena made a strange sound while pretending to shoot an arrow when assassinating the demon named Halifa.

Was it “pishung”? Despite the serious situation, I laughed as I released the bowstring. The glittering arrowhead cut through the sky and flew towards the Demon King’s army camp. As I held up the bow and spread my arms to my comrades, Lena clapped her hands as if she had been waiting and said:

“Wow! Mister, you’re the best! Cool!”

Ashuria and Mille looked at Lena with incredulous eyes, but when I spread my arms and responded to the cheers, they reluctantly began to cheer.

“Woo-.”

“Woo.”

That scene was a comedy if anything. I burst into laughter and bowed, and the hero, lost in thought in the corner, stood with his head down without saying anything. Ashuria stopped giving me soulless cheers and put her hand on the hero’s shoulder, and the hero, surprised by the sudden touch, followed Lena’s cheers from the side and reflexively clapped his hands, saying:

“Ah, aah! Yes! Con, congratulations! Woohoo!”

Everyone’s eyes widened at the hero’s random outburst. Realizing that all eyes were on him, the hero turned his face as red as the sunset and flailed his hands, saying:

“Ah, is, isn’t this right? Huh? No, I mean, congratulations… No! I mean, well…!”

“Hahahahaha!”

Mille started laughing first.

“Ahahahaha!”

Lena giggled following her, and I came down the rocky mountain laughing.

“Well, everyone, the hero… ahem… cough…!”

Ashuria was clearing her throat but her lips were twitching, and the hero, who had become the joke of the day, sank into silence, red as a radish.

It was that kind of evening.

[My beloved Mostra. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve recruited enemy commanders and are on the verge of victory.

I can’t sleep every day expecting you to sound the victory bell.

Mostra. Occupy the fortress and hang our flag.

Hold a festival with trumpets and loud music so the enemies know our threat is at their doorstep.

The nearby villages will flee on their own without our threats, and we can comfortably expand our territory by moving the magic stones.

I love you, Mostra. I love you the most. You know that, right?

Daemon.]

Commander Mostra smiled from ear to ear and stamped her feet excitedly. It was because her lover, Daemon, had sent her a sweet letter saying he loved her. She thought today was the best day ever. A message from the enemy camp said the operation would be executed today, and Daemon had sent her a letter of encouragement.

It was a perfect day that couldn’t get any better.

Everything would be perfectly over once the fortress was set on fire and the empty fortress conquered.

Mostra was fingering the sword at her waist, just waiting for the signal to rise.

The soldiers, as eager as she was, pressing close to the fence and examining the situation, were also waiting for the charge order with bloodshot eyes. They were heated at the thought of sharing rewards in a bloodlessly captured fortress. Demon soldiers were greedy and selfish beings, preferring more rewards to honor or victory reports.

The sight of everyone staring at the fortress, drooling like pets who had been given the command ‘wait,’ could only be described as amusing.

Mostra, unaware of how ridiculous she and the other demons looked, mounted her horse and tightly gripped the scabbard.

“The fire is rising!”

A soldier who nearly rushed out involuntarily at that voice returned, earning disapproval. Mostra impulsively clutched the reins, barely calming her urge to charge. While soldiers may get excited, a commander must remain calm.

Mostra saw a torch falling slowly between the valleys of the mountain range, emitting a bright light like a meteor. It seemed as if the gate was opening and people were escaping. Mostra felt her expression management failing.

She smiled brightly and shouted:

“Everyone charge! Subdue their fortress! And raise our reputation!”

“Waaahhh!”

Even wild beasts before raw meat couldn’t display such barbaric movement. The soldiers, tired of the standoff, seemed to be competing to see who could run to the fortress first. Mostra, at the forefront of these soldiers, was enjoying the feeling of being a great general.

“Follow me!”

At this moment, she was indeed a great general.

There were no guards defending the fortress. The soldiers who had rushed in with great momentum felt uneasy seeing the silent interior of the fortress without any resistance. They looked around like lost children, hunching their shoulders and regulating their breath like lost beasts.

Mostra, who had gallantly entered riding a black horse, was also shuddering with a strange uneasiness while frowning. Having entered the fortress but without any fight, she didn’t feel victorious even though she had won.

The battlefield she had learned about during officer training was a place of meticulous plots, internal strife, bloodshed, and ashes. This empty victory was giving her a strange uneasiness.

But she was an inexperienced commander who couldn’t distinguish between when to follow her instincts and when not to. All she could do was stand proudly in the middle of the fortress square, trying not to reveal her internal anxiety until all the soldiers entered the fortress.

Soldiers began to gather. Some soldiers started to check the tents or search the building warehouses, while others began to climb the castle walls.

“Now this kingdom is finished too.”

“Yeah. We’ll smash it all. Hehehe.”

A demon soldier, who was climbing up as if to see the view from the castle wall, throwing jokes at each other, discovered a soldier crouching as soon as he turned the corner of the stairs.

“Huh, huuuh?”

At that moment when the demon soldier tried to adjust his spear in surprise, the soldier thrust his spear forward as if he had been waiting, piercing the demon’s head and shouting:

“Close the gate!”

Before the demons could understand the loudly shouted command, the fortress pulled the gate lever as if it had been waiting.

Huge iron bars came down from all directions with the sound of lightning.

“Huh, huuuh?”

Mostra still didn’t understand the situation and was just making strange sounds while gripping the reins. Soldiers gathered around Mostra and looked around, and only those who couldn’t give up on escape were banging on the iron bars and screaming.

“What the hell are you guys doing! Open it! Open it!”

“I’ll kill you all! You sons of bitches!”

Ruthless curses and threats were like boomerangs, returning with as much force as was spat out. Those who stuck their faces between the iron bars or screamed fell silent with their mouths wide open to the clear sound of a string being plucked.

“Aaaagh!”

“Uaaaagh!”

Soldiers who had become porcupines with arrows stuck in their necks and heads were hanging on the iron bars like hangers.

“Shoot arrows! Kill them all!”

Count Ullie issued orders to the soldiers, showing off his large build. Soldiers were all shooting arrows down the fortress. Arrows flying from all directions were more numerous than stars in the sky.

Mostra looked at her tent with tear-filled eyes.

The horizon.

Flames were rising from where the tent had been.

The fact that she had disappointed her beloved Daemon and the fear that she would die here paralyzed her reason.

“No…! No!!”

Mostra screamed and drew her sword. And she began to run towards Count Ullie.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”

Her resounding cry was buried in the desperate screams heard from the fortress and reached no one.