It Is a Tool of Humanity

I once knew how to fight.  

Of course, I still know to some extent.  

I have knowledge and theory about combat.  

I just haven’t put it into practice.  

Ever since I was born into this body, I’ve never been in a real battle.  

Ah, but I think I’m pretty good at getting hit.  

Well, this body was meant to become a Demon King, so it should at least be durable.  

It’s just that I’ve been avoiding combat on purpose—if I had trained, wouldn’t I have become quite strong?  

"Now, attack."  

The Hero gives the order.  

A crude sword is in my hand.  

It’s old, but still somewhat usable.  

And in front of me, a slimy creature writhes.  

A low-grade monster that even children can defeat.  

So all I have to do is strike it down.  

Even the thin leather armor I’m wearing isn’t really necessary.  

Yap.  

The slimy creature loses its shape and splatters.  

My posture is absolutely terrible.  

Well, this is my first time swinging a sword in this life.  

"Good. Summon ten more."  

The Hero speaks to the magician standing nearby.  

The elderly magician sighs and summons more slimes.  

He’s a professor at the Empire’s training institution.  

His expression shows he doesn’t appreciate being dragged into such trivial games.  

If not for the Hero, he wouldn’t be here summoning low-grade monsters.  

"Take them all down."  

I massacre the writhing slimes.  

I don’t even need the sword skills I learned in my past life.  

This is child’s play.  

"Not bad."  

The Hero looks at me with an evaluating gaze.  

The elderly magician stands patiently, exercising restraint.  

This training ground was originally built for the Imperial Army.  

It wasn’t meant for someone like me.  

"For a first try, not bad. Don’t you think?"  

The elderly magician nods half-heartedly.  

"Then, let’s move to the next stage."  

What comes after slimes?  

Goblins? Skeletons?  

If they’re weak enough, that would be just right.  

It seems the Hero intends to gradually increase the difficulty.  

I have no idea what he plans to do with me after training me.  

"Summon an orc."  

…Excuse me?  

The elderly magician looks at the Hero, slightly taken aback.  

The difficulty just skyrocketed.  

A trained soldier might be able to handle one alone, but me?

Beating an orc by myself?  

That won’t be easy.  

"If you can fight that well, you can definitely do it!"  

A summoning circle appears in the air, and soon, an orc materializes—its body two or three times the size of a grown man.  

All I have in my hand is a worn-out sword.  

My armor?

Just some tattered leather.  

Fighting slimes was like a child’s game—facing an orc… well, it’ll be a child’s game from the orc’s perspective.  

The orc wields a simple club.  

If that hits me, my bones will shatter.  

"Fight seriously. You won’t die, so don’t worry."  

Normally, against an opponent with such an overwhelming advantage, you don’t fight head-on.  

You’d need an excellent weapon, use the magic flowing through your body, or rely on pre-prepared tools…  

"You have talent, so you can do it. Begin."  

The orc starts walking toward me, slowly.  

Its massive green form fills my vision.  

The only advantage I have is that my body is in decent shape.  

I might have been weak when I was trapped in the Count’s mansion, but after working in the banquet hall, I’ve recovered enough to handle light exercise.  

Boom!  

The orc’s club slams into the training ground floor.  

Even dodging is exhausting.  

The sword in my hand feels like nothing but a hindrance.  

I know swordsmanship theory, but applying it in real combat is difficult.  

Besides, standard sword techniques for fighting humans won’t be very effective against an orc.  

And even attacking is a problem.  

I stab the orc’s leg, but…  

It only sinks in a little—I don’t have enough strength to cut deeper.  

Thud.  

So, in the end, all I can do is collapse without even resisting.  

Ow.  

I think I’m bleeding.  

After taking a hit from that club, I can’t even move to counterattack.  

The Hero seems to have halted the orc’s assault.  

"Alright, open wide."  

I obediently part my lips, and a sweet, red liquid trickles into my mouth.  

A potion.  

A healing potion.  

"All better?"  

Yes.  

"Then go fight again."  

The Hero hands me back the sword still stuck in the orc’s leg.  

This is an absurdly luxurious training method.  

Healing potions aren’t cheap, you know?  

Even low-grade potions are quite expensive.  

But since it’s the Hero, he can afford this kind of extravagance.  

Stab.  

Once more, I pierce the orc.  

Smash.  

I take another hit and collapse.  

I open my mouth.  

A potion is poured down my throat.  

Repeat.  

I repeated this cycle dozens of times until the orc finally collapsed.  

A normal person would have gone insane.  

But I’m not normal.  

If I were capable of losing my mind, I would have done so long ago.  

I have a noble purpose—to serve humanity.  

So I won’t go mad.  

Thud.  

The orc stumbles and falls.  

Then it vanishes, reverse-summoned.  

"Good job."  

Thank goodness.  

Looks like today’s training is over.  

But more importantly, why is he training me?  

"We used two large bottles of potion… well, that’s fine."  

The bottles have an incredibly luxurious sheen.  

I wonder how much they cost.  

Lower-grade potions take time to work.  

Even when they heal, they can leave scars or have other side effects, but most people would be grateful just to have those.  

This one, however, heals instantly without any drawbacks—it’s an incredibly high-quality potion.  

"This is expensive. Really expensive."  

Apparently so.  

That’s only natural.  

"It’s made from your horn."  

"...What?"  

Ah.  

So that’s how it is.  

I’ve been drinking a potion made from my own horn.  

No wonder it’s so effective.  

"Was it tasty?"  

Yes.  

It tasted fine.  

But seeing it up close gives me a strange feeling.  

So my horn is being processed into potions like this.  

That’s good.  

It means my horn is definitely valuable.  

"Take some as souvenirs when you meet your family later."  

"…Okay."  

They’ll probably be horrified.  

But it’ll be fun to see their reactions.  

"Um… why… training…"  

"Why are we training? …Do you want to jump straight into real combat?"  

No, that’s not what I meant.  

That’s not it.  

I’m just wondering why I’m suddenly fighting.  

"Alright, let’s go straight to real combat starting tomorrow! …Or at least, I’d like to, but my party isn’t ready to depart yet."  

Wait, am I the one who’s supposed to fight?  

Memories of my past life as part of the Hero’s party resurface.  

I never imagined I’d be fighting again in this body.  

"Ah, for now, let’s go eat. I’m hungry."  

***  

I half-expected them to serve my food in a dog bowl, but they didn’t.  

Surprisingly, I got to sit at the dining table and eat properly.  

Inside the lodging where the Hero is staying.  

"Did you know?"  

The Hero suddenly speaks.  

"According to prophecy, the Demon King has already resurrected."  

I see.  

So there was another prophecy this time.  

There was one in my past life, too.  

"I thought I’d be fighting the Demon King. I was supposed to save the world."  

The Hero sounds disappointed.  

"But there’s nothing. No matter where I look, there’s no sign of a Demon King being born. It’s not like someone killed them, either."  

That’s probably because of me.  

"I don’t know why it’s only in our era that a Demon King hasn’t appeared, but if it’s some kind of cosmic joke, well, it worked."  

Because of me…  

"Thanks to that, instead of proving our strength by slaying the Demon King, we’ve just become a useless, freeloading group of warriors. I wouldn’t even argue if people called us that."  

Is this all my fault?  

"I… apologize."  

So the Demon King didn’t resurrect.  

If they had, it would have been me.  

"Why are you apologizing? Do you even understand what I’m saying?"  

Yes.  

I understand perfectly.  

"Anyway, since there’s no Demon King, look at the Hero from the Allied Nations—he’s running around trying to ‘save’ demi-humans."  

That person Ratna called her brother… Could it be?  

No, that’s impossible.

The Hero is human.  

There’s no way he’s family with an inferior species.  

Ratna must be mistaken.  

Just because you eat together doesn’t make you family.  

Like me and the Hero right now.  

"In a way, this Demon King is the smartest one yet. With no Demon King around, people are starting to see demi-humans as safe."  

That’s a huge problem.  

Now that he mentions it, people do seem a bit more lenient toward demi-humans.  

So it was because there was no Demon King.  

Without the Demon King’s army uniting them for war, there’s no reason to be wary of them.  

"I wonder what they’re up to, the Demon King."  

Right now, they’re having a meal with you.  

Eliminating the Demon King from the world has caused some unexpected side effects.  

Maybe even Mr. Richard’s weakness stems from the Demon King’s absence.  

"But the ones who tried to resurrect the Demon King are still active, so they must be hiding somewhere."  

I’m right in front of you.  

"We’re going to wipe them out during this journey. Apparently, their base is near the Great Mountain Range."  

A purge of the Demon King’s remnants.  

A Demon King’s army without a Demon King.  

What a ridiculous existence.  

Can they even be called the Demon King’s army anymore?  

"You’ll be the one to get rid of them, so eat well and grow strong, alright?"  

I will?  

I don’t know why it has to be me instead of the Hero.  

Does he just want to see me fight?  

"…Alright."  

I picture it in my mind.  

A former Demon King exterminating the Demon King’s army.  

That’s an amusing situation.  

I’ll make sure to eat well and grow properly.  

A good meal is the foundation of a good warrior.  

Even when raising chickens, you give special feed to the fighting ones.  

Still, to share a table with an inferior species… You have quite the strong stomach, Hero.