Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Van clumsily trudged through the open fields, making his way back to the city.

His thoughts remained clouded from the earlier encounter. Though he could walk, breathe, and function, his mind felt heavier than ever, as if weighed down by a fog that refused to lift.

'Haah... If not for my resistance and vigor, I’d be dead by now... he mused, glancing at the faint seals etched into his skin. I could probably keep going like this—without food, water, or sleep—for four months before it starts to kill me... even with these cursed seals binding me.'

'I'll need to find a Dragonkin Priest to undo these seals... Now, if I could just earn some money and find a priest at the highlands, I could probably get those—' His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he stumbled upon something, crushing it with a loud booming noise.

Van slowly looked down to see what he had trampled.

It was a concrete grave marker.

'Ah... I've stumbled into the capital's graveyard... I let my mind wander too much,' He realized as he looked around, surrounded by thousands of graves.

He sighed, 'It's going to take a while to get out of this place...' He thought, frustrated as he continued walking, carefully avoiding the other graves.

As he moved deeper into the graveyard, the graves became more orderly, neat, and clean.

'Yep. Pecking order, even among the dead,' He mused as he navigated.

Near the exit of the graveyard, a tall building blocked his path. He had to circle around it.

'What's this...? Too elegant and regal to be a morgue...' He wondered as he walked around it.

'Holy damn, I think this is a grave... What kind of person gets a church-sized grave...!? Who did this person impress to get a grave this big!?' He thought to himself as he came full circle to look at the name carved at the front of the church-sized tomb.

Van froze as he read the name engraved on it.

'What is the meaning of this...?' He thought, his eyes widening as he saw the words:

||HERE LIES A LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER... AND A FRIEND. THE HERO, MAGUS VEIL||, with the date of passing listed as two years ago.

"What the fuck!?" Van's eyebrow shot up, his expression more animated as he leaned in, double-checking the sign, making sure he hadn't misread it.

"Don’t bullshit me! HE'S NOT DEAD! What the FUCK IS THIS!? No one could kill...!" As the words spilled from his mouth, memories he had tried to bury clawed their way to the surface.

A memory of Magus’s hand trembling as he reached out, desperately touching Van’s.

A memory of Magus begging him not to leave.

'Why the FUCK am I remembering this now!? What does this have to do with anything!? He ain’t dead! He CAN'T be dead! He's the strongest guy in the universe—NO ONE could kill him!' Van thought, his breath hitching as the fog in his mind churned violently, building into a storm.

"Oh...? A visitor at the Hero’s grave this early? Greetings. I am the attendant of this—" a calm, elderly voice remarked as its owner approached... Before being aggressively cut off by Van.

"HEY, OLD MAN!" Van snapped, jerking around at the mention of the grave, startling the figure. The old man wore black, ragged robes, his slow, slouched movements deliberate and measured. He glanced back at Van, taking in the sight of the furious young man who had called out to him with such force and intensity. Unease stirred within him.

"What’s the meaning of this bullshit!?" Van snarled, his vision swimming with rage. "WHERE’S MAGUS VEIL!?"

"Haah… Another one of these fanatics," the old man muttered under his breath, exasperated. His eyes drifted over Van’s body, mistaking the seals etched into his skin for tattoos. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice the sharp definition of Van’s physique—muscles sculpted for both strength and agility.

The unease within him deepened as he continued to scrutinize the enraged youth.

'Just in case... I'll prepare a binding spell. I may be past my prime, but I am an A-Rank Sorcerer. Few humans could face me head-on,' the old man thought, slipping his hand beneath his robe. Glowing binds spiraled from his palm, wrapping around it, ready to strike. He aimed the spell directly at Van.

Once more, he scrutinized the young man. 'So, he's reliant on physical strength? The build of a Knight... I will never be toppled by a Knight. Except maybe Marcilla Veil or Greatknight Sir Nickelson...'

"Begone, ruffian," the old man said, standing his ground as his eyebrows furrowed. "I shan't entertain your fanaticism, nor will I allow you near this grave if that is your intent. Leave now, or face judgment," he declared, his tone stern as his gaze locked on Van.

Van’s breath grew heavy, a low growl rising from his throat as his grip on sanity slipped. The haze in his mind churned violently, dragging him deeper into the storm of rage. "I am not... in the mood," Van muttered darkly. "Answer me... immediately... OR ELSE...!!! What is the meaning of this!?" His teeth clenched, his fist tightening until the air around it began to hum and vibrate with pressure.

"Tsk, tsk... Dismissive of your elders and issuing threats?" The old man sneered, shifting his weight. Beneath his robe, his fingers flexed, channeling the spell. 'It’s locked onto his vile aura... It won’t matter how fast he is—he’ll never avoid it.'

Without hesitation, the old man fired the spell. "YOU SHALL BE PUT IN YOUR PLACE BY MY HAN—"

The words barely left his mouth when the spell shot toward Van. But Van moved—blindingly fast. The glowing binds struck his body, but they ricocheted off him harmlessly, as if his very presence rejected the magic.

Before the old man could even comprehend what had happened, Van was already upon him. His hand shot out and clamped onto the old man's throat with terrifying force, whipping his head backward with a brutal snap.

"GAAAAHH!!" The old man coughed up blood, his eyes widening in disbelief.

'He... deflected it...!? No, he didn’t even need to do anything... His resistance is simply... Way, WAY too high! I MISCALCULATED—!' The thought raced through his mind in panic as Van slammed him into the ground with crushing force, the impact forming a small crater. The old man gasped, coughing more blood as the world around him spun.

"I am seriously... not in the mood for games, old man," Van growled, glaring into his eyes with seething rage.

'W-Who... Who is this!? Not even Sir Nickelson is this strong!' the old man thought, his vision swimming as Van’s hand pinned him down. Terror seeped into his bones.

"Right now," Van snarled, his voice low and menacing, "I used my other hand to stop your head from smashing into the cobblestone. I won’t do it... a second time." His grip trembled, his fingers stained with the old man's blood as they tightened around his neck.

The old man looked up at Van, dread filling his eyes. He gasped softly, thoughts scrambling.

'You mean to tell me... He even held back...? Who... who IS this person...!?'

"Answer me," Van demanded, his voice rising with fury. "Why is there a grave for Magus Veil!? That harem fucker couldn’t have died, not with all his overpowering skills! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!? WHO KILLED HIM!?" Van bellowed, the storm in his mind raging uncontrollably.

Panic fully gripped the old man now. His survival instinct kicked in—there was no room for hesitation. He knew: if he wanted to live, he had to answer.

And fast.

The words formed in his mind, truth tangled with disbelief. The story the entire kingdom knew, the one whispered in disbelief and sorrow.

"S-... Su..."

"Suicide!" the old man finally stammered, the word slipping weakly from his lips.

Van’s face paled instantly, the word triggering a memory he’d long buried.

A fleeting image of Magus—forcing a smile during their last encounter sixteen years ago.

His solemn words echoing in Van's mind.

"Come visit me when you can, alright?"

"N-no..." Van whispered, the air catching in his throat.

"No..."

"H-he..." His voice wavered.

"He wouldn't..."

"He... has a harem... W-why would he..." Van stammered, his grip on the old man weakening until his hands slipped free entirely. He staggered backward, unsteady on his feet, the haze of disbelief clouding his mind.

Clumsily, Van rose to his feet, each step heavy and unsteady. His body swayed as he staggered toward the grand grave of Magus Veil, drawn as if hoping—praying—for answers that couldn’t possibly be true.

Behind him, the old man exhaled sharply, relief washing over him. He leaned back, coughing out the remaining blood until his breath began to steady.

But then, something caught his eye.

'Wait... Those markings on his back... They’re seals...! Ridiculously powerful ones, too...' His thoughts raced as recognition flooded in. 'It’s been so long since I’ve seen these that I almost forgot...! Those seals—meant to bind ancient dragons—not people! With those on him, he shouldn’t even be able to breathe, much less perform physical feats like that...!'

The old man’s eyes widened in disbelief, his pulse quickening.

"Hey... Harem bastard...!" Van called out, as the old man struggled to his feet. Van's voice echoed across the quiet graveyard, cutting through the stillness. With trembling legs, the old man followed Van, who made his way toward the towering, church-sized grave.

In the midst of the church-sized grave, rows of statues lined the path leading to an imposing statue of the Goddess cradling a concrete coffin.

"F-found you... You stupid fucker... You girlfriend stealer...!!! You died to... You did that just to shag the goddess too, right!!!? You're actually alive down there, aren't you? Fooling everyone while she milks you dry, huh!?!!? Nah, I bet you ain't even there!! Exploring the world to expand your harem, BRAINWASHING SOME MORE INNOCENT GIRLS!!!" Van shouted, his voice echoing within the walls of Magus's monumental grave as he advanced towards the coffin.

The old man struggled to his feet, his mind urging him to call for security, yet his instincts propelled him to follow Van inside.

He entered, watching Van stride towards Magus's grave.

"HEY...!!! YOU FUCK...!!! WAKE UP!!! YOUR BEST FRIEND JUST CAME TO VISIT YOU...!!! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!! WHERE'S YOUR MANNERS, YOU FUCKBOY!!!?" Van bellowed at the top of his lungs.

'Best friend...? No way... Is this young man...' the old man pondered in astonishment as he observed Van with a mix of curiosity and awe; the earlier uneasiness beginning to fade the more he looks at Van's rawness.

Van then placed both hands on the concrete lid of the coffin, forcefully sending it flying through the grave's window. He peered inside.

"FOUND YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH...!!!" He yelled, leaning over the coffin with a manic smile, looking at the perfectly preserved body of his best friend, dressed in his hero uniform, appearing as if he were in his 40s or 30s, with his eyelids closed, as if merely sleeping.

"Haha... You fucker. You really fooled everyone, huh..?!" His voice cracked as he lightly slapped his friend's cheek.

"Come on... Wake up...!" He whispered with a strained smile.

"Young man... Or should I say... Van Hellix..." The old man called softly as he approached from behind, "Magus Veil... The hero... is dea—"

"SHUT UP!!!" Van roared, still facing the corpse.

"You're fucking blind, old man...!!! One foot in the grave does that to people, huh!?" He shouted as he turned, his eyes filled with denial, meeting the old man's sympathetic gaze.

"LOOK AT HIM!! LOOK!!" He screamed, signaling the old man to inspect the dead body more closely, "HE'S SLEEPING!! HE'S JUST SLEEPING WHILE THE GODDESS SUCKS HIM OFF IN HER HEAVEN OR WHATEVER!!! LOOK AT THAT SMILE!!! LOOK AT HIM..!!! HE'S HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE...!!!" Van reasoned, frantically pointing at the deceased Magus.

The old man's gaze merely softened as he observed Van.

"THAT SELFISH BASTARD WON'T WAKE UP EVEN TO GREET HIS BEST FRIEND WHO CAME TO VISIT HIM AFTER 16 YEARS....!!! HERE... IF I SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM, HE'LL JOLT RIGHT BACK UP...!!" Van argued, turning swiftly to Magus, repeatedly slapping his cheek.

"Wake up, bitch!" he called as he slapped him, each hit slightly harder than the last.

"Young man... Cease this..." the old man implored softly.

"I SAID WAKE UP...!!!" Van screamed, his hand crashing down with a brutal slap. A sickening snap echoed through the grave as Magus’s neck jerked violently to the side. Yet, his closed eyes and serene smile remained unchanged, undisturbed by the force.

The sound froze Van in place. He stumbled backward, his legs giving way as he tripped and collapsed onto the cold floor, his gaze locked on the lifeless body inside the coffin, disbelief etched into every inch of his face.

The old man stood nearby, watching in silence. His stern gaze softened.

"Young man...? I think you should—" he began, stepping closer, his hand reaching out gently to offer comfort.

"Leave me alone...!!" Van muttered, swatting the old man’s hand away without looking up, his eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on the grave.

"Youn—"

"LEAVEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" Van roared, his voice shattering the stillness as his trembling gaze remained glued to the open coffin.

His voice lowered to a whisper, breaking under the weight of his emotions. "Just... leave me alone... Please... Just this once... let things go my way... in this fucking world... Let me have what I want... for a change..." He curled into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, burying his face against them. His uneven, ragged breaths warmed his skin, each exhale trembling with despair.

The old man stood quietly for a moment, realizing that no words could reach Van in his grief. With a solemn nod, he bowed his head and stepped back.

He turned and walked away, his footsteps slow and measured, the soft echo fading into the distance. And with that, the old man left Van alone in the Hero’s Grave—alone with the weight of what could never be undone.