The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 133: Chapter 132: Heroes, You Have Arrived

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Chapter 132: Heroes, You Have Arrived This was it. The object of their search was within their reach, and so in their hearts soon came a wave of nausea and restlessness for they knew this foe to be the most dangerous of them all. Everything had to be settled here, or else their hard work, struggle, pain and grief, would be reduced to nothing more than just another tragic ending. >[Grand Quest: Slay the Demon King]< To you, o’ heroes who have persevered against all that this world’s trials and foes, no more words need to be said. Slay the Demon King. Rid this land of its influence, forevermore. Success: 10,000 Cosmic Coins, a skill book containing a random A-rank skill from the World of Charlemagne, 20 Unattributed Status Points, and further rewards based on contribution. Failure: Annihilation of all life in the World of Charlemagne. “It’s… crying?” Mili whispered. “Is this really the Demon King? It doesn’t even look like one.” The shrouded figure sitting in a pool of its own corrupted tears, indeed, had no resemblance to the demonic creatures that it spawned. Its form, though massive and imposing in size that made even the Saxon’s beastly lord seem dwarfed in comparison, was undoubtedly that of man. There were no absurdities, no contorted limbs or maniacal laughter. The Demon King wore a full suit of armor, with pauldrons and hefty plates, that had been long eroded by rust and the ravages of time—its gloss reduced to a dull murky black—and on its head a shattered crown dangled precariously as if to mirror the bygone prestige it once represented, now reduced to a mere forgotten ornament. Everything about the Demon King was unnervingly depressing, how it wallowed in a wretchedness the players couldn’t begin to know or understand. But regardless their task remained unchanged. This sobbing creature had to be put out of its misery. The players nervously stepped past the gate and glanced around, searching for any traps or hidden surprises. Contrary to their expectations the chamber was entirely barren save for the one collapsed at its center. There were no other demons lurking in wait and any trace of what this room and the markings on its wall might have been, its purpose, had been defaced with long trailing gashes and pockets of craters that seemed to have been made by an angry fist. No sooner did they cross the room’s boundary did the Demon King cease its tears, and raise its head. “... Ah, is someone there?” The voice uttered from its raspy throat was, to the party’s surprise, gentle. Time had left its mark and reduced what could have once been a smooth, velvety tone into a jarring gravel that struggled constantly to keep its structure firm, and yet it was gentle all the same. Like a child greeting a stranger, or perhaps a friend confronting a long-lost love, the voice spoke to the party and it delighted in the sound that trickled forth. The players knew not how to react, how to respond to this voice so genuine in its friendliness and care. Silence was all they could contribute for some time, and so the Demon King became confused. “Heroes, you have… arrived. Why do you not speak? Come out, come out. Where have you gone?” The Demon King slowly raised a trembling leg, and it stood up from its tearful puddle, letting the dark liquid drip away as its hulking body grew, and grew, until its shadow alone encompassed half the chamber. Then, it turned its head. The players could not see its face for its hands were held in mourning over it, as if it could not bear to meet the world or see the cruelties outside. And so it kept itself blind. Unwilling to let go, unwilling to take its palms away. The Demon King staggered from its legs long worn from kneeling and it slowly approached the group, mumbling to them a garbled plea. “Blurry. Still so blurry. Heroes, has the promised time come? The promise, the wish. I clung to it for so very long. Please, do not take it away from me. It is all I have.” Everyone drew their weapons in anticipation of