The Nameless Heir-Chapter 49: Hero’s

"That... is my katana. My prized possession," the Demon King answered.

Kael took it out of the box. "Interesting."

Then he pulled it from its sheath, holding the katana in his hand, kind of disappointed.

The blade was long and thin—but sharp.

The bottom half was pure black, like it had been dipped in shadow.

But the edge—

The edge was silver, glowing like moonlight. As if it was made from the essence of the moon.

It was bright.

The silver stopped halfway up the blade, where the rest turned fully black.

He looked at the sword. "That’s it?" he asked.

The sword was fancy—cool—but it was missing something. A purpose.

"Child, this is the strongest sword out there," the Demon King replied, sounding upset.

"Not even close," Kael muttered, turning the blade in his hand. "I’ve seen sharper spoons."

He looked up, eyes flat. "No wonder you lost to those losers."

"You dare mock the Demon King?" His voice now had a sharp anger to it.

"What’s this sword’s name, and what purpose does it have?" Kael asked, swinging the blade with one hand like it was weightless.

"What?" The Demon King looked confused. "Swords are made to fight and cut enemies down. Why does it need a name?"

He looked thrown off—unsure if Kael was mocking him or just insane.

"That’s where you’re wrong." Kael stopped moving, eyes narrowing. He tried to think of an example—

Then it clicked.

"Okay, look," he said, pausing.

"You call yourself Demon King."

He stepped forward.

"Being king is a title. It comes with purpose."

His tone slowed—each word steady, heavy.

"Now if you take the ’King’ away from the name..."

He tilted his head slightly, voice low and cold.

"Are you still a king?"

"Damn you, brat. I have never met such a disrespectful child in my life," the Demon King muttered.

"Shut up, you prideful king... and watch."

Kael expanded his left arm—calm and slow. Shadows flickered at his fingertips.

Then he took the katana and dragged it down toward his arm.

CRACK.

His arm was unharmed—not a single scratch.

Instead, the blade shattered like glass. A sharp snap echoed in the silence.

The Demon King gasped. "My precious sword... You are lucky, kid. I’m not alive."

Kael cut him off mid-talk.

"See? It’s weak," he said, voice flat. Emotionless. Like he expected it.

"Damn you, kid..."

"Shut up, old man... and watch."

His tone dropped—low, firm.

He called out Shadowbind.

The shadows surged to life, wrapping around the broken blade like hungry snakes.

Then slowly, piece by piece, he merged the katana into it.

His sword devoured it—broken half and all—until there was nothing left.

Not even dust.

Only the weight in the air remained.

Then he muttered, "Shadowbind, third form: Mage Slayer."

Shadowbind transformed into a katana. When he pulled it out, the black half turned crimson red.

"Now this... is a sword."

"What did you do?" the Demon King muttered.

"I gave it a purpose. It’s not just a sword. Now it has purpose."

He smiled, then continued, "I won’t be calling you king. So what’s your name, dead man?"

His voice turned deep and serious.

"I am Ethen," he muttered.

Before Kael could get the rest of what he needed, the air changed.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Then someone entered the room. He wore shiny silver armor—clean, polished, and clearly expensive.

Way better than the junk the gods gave out for their little quest.

He had slick black hair, a cocky smile, and a massive, overly fancy sword strapped to his back.

"That’s the Hero. You have to run away," Ethen whispered.

The man looked directly at Kael. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

Kael didn’t answer.

He just ignored him while checking out his new sword.

"Is that the Demon King’s sword?" the man asked.

"Yes. Yes it is. You like?" A wide grin formed on his face.

The Hero reached out. "Yeah, now hand it over."

"Nah. I found it. It’s mine," Kael muttered.

"Do you want to die?" The Hero paused, finally realizing something. "Who even are you? How did you get in here?"

"Don’t worry about it. Now go away—I’m busy here."

Kael was looking around for more treasure, ignoring the Hero entirely.

The man laughed, maniacal. "You must really want to die." His voice grew louder, echoing in the room.

Before the Hero could react, Kael shadow stepped, appearing right in front of his face.

"You could never kill me," the words came out slow and steady. Then he vanished again, already searching for more treasure to take.

That angered him—not just because Kael wasn’t afraid, but because he kept ignoring him.

"I’m a Sword Mage—one of the Heroes that killed the Demon Lord! You think you can beat me?" he shouted.

Kael started to laugh. "You won’t even get near me, let alone kill me, you idiot."

The Hero lunged toward Kael, his sword glowing with blue light.

He leapt into the air and struck downward.

Kael didn’t move.

He stood there, still, wearing a cocky grin on his face.

The Hero brought down his gaudy sword—heavy and fast—but then...

A massive shadow rose from the ground like a wall.

Pride stepped out.

The sword struck Pride’s shoulder.

It did absolutely nothing.

Pride loomed above him. Their eyes met.

"What the hell is that?" the Hero said, his face full of shock.

"You dare try to lay your filthy hand on my king," Pride said, his voice deep and slow—smoke pouring from his mouth with every breath.

Before the swordsman could react, Pride punched him in the face, sending him flying backward—straight through the door he came in through.

Kael watched him crawl back inside.

"That’s it? You’re so weak. I can’t believe he lost to trash like you," Kael said, shaking his head.

"How dare you mock me?! I’m the Hero who saved the world! I am the chosen one!" he shouted, charging again.

Before he reached Kael, Pride slammed him on the back of the neck—driving him into the ground.

He didn’t stop there.

He continued punching.

"How dare you speak without permission."

Again.

Again.

Until the man’s face was swollen—barely recognizable.

Then Pride grabbed him by the leg, spun him in a wide circle, and threw him into the wall like garbage.

Kael’s voice turned cold.

"You’re no Hero. All of you are monsters in disguise. I’ll make sure you get the worst death you can imagine, you disgusting trash."

"You coward... fight me like a man..." the Hero gasped, the words barely escaping.

"I wouldn’t touch you with a stick, let alone lay a hand on you. You all make me sick," Kael said, face full of disgust.

"How dare you—how dare you mock me!" the man screamed as bluish energy exploded from his body.

"I’ll kill you!" he roared.

Just then, six others stormed in behind him—human reinforcements.

He turned to them, voice slow and deep.

"Enchanters. Boost me—now."

Three girls in the back began to chant in unison.

Their voices echoed, strange and unnatural. The sound twisted the air.

Kael didn’t know what spell they used—but the man shot forward like lightning.

His speed was insane.

He slashed again.

Pride blocked it—but this time, the blade began to cut through his armor.

Like a hot knife sliding through wax.

"Back away, Pride!" Kael shouted.

But Pride didn’t move. He stood firm and took the next hit.

His armor shattered across his chest.

Still, he refused to fall.

Kael touched his shoulder.

"It’s okay... you rest up for a bit."

The man laughed. "Yeah. You. Next."

He pointed at Kael.

Kael smiled and whispered, "Rise."

All four Sins stepped out from the shadows, surrounding him.

He grinned while sitting on the Demon King’s throne, one leg resting over the other.

"So... you still think you can win?"

"Shut up, you coward! Why don’t you fight me yourself!?" the man yelled.

"Fine. Fine."

Kael looked at the Sins and raised his hand.

"Do not interfere."

He rose from the seat and stepped forward.

"Let’s go, little Hero."

The Hero lunged, swinging vertically.

As soon as the blade touched Kael—he vanished.

Smoke filled the space where he’d been.

He reappeared behind the man, whispering in his ear.

"You’re so close."

The swordsman turned around, enraged.

"Start casting! All of you! Now!" he shouted.

Kael didn’t even flinch.

"What happened to fighting like a man?" he muttered.

The Sins prepared to help—but Kael stopped them with a wave.

He wanted this fight for himself.

Spells flew at him from every direction.

The Hero’s speed—boosted by support—was almost impossible to keep up with.

Every time Kael dodged, they cast a spell where he would land.

Fire. Ice. Even the ground twisted and shifted beneath him.

Every time he attacked, they blocked it with a barrier.

He had to admit—they were good.

Perfectly in sync.

Then the sword began to glow—coated in bluish flame.

That caught his attention.

So he didn’t move.

He stood there as the Hero raised his blade high.

The air crackled.

The room shook with power.

BOOM.

The ground exploded.

Cracks tore across the stone.

Smoke flooded the chamber.

When it cleared—Kael was gone.

So were the Sins.

The man laughed like a maniac.

"Take that, you cocky son of a—"

"Hell yeah, we did it, partner."

Kael appeared next to him—leaned against his shoulder, arm draped casually like they’d been friends the whole time.

The Hero turned his head—and saw Kael.

He smiled. "High five."

The Hero, face twisted with rage, swung his sword—aiming straight for Kael’s head.

But like always...

he vanished.

Just smoke.

The Hero stood frozen. Eyes darting. Breathing sharp.

He scanned the air like Kael might drop from the ceiling.

Just then—

"This way. Look here, chosen clown."

Kael’s voice echoed from above.

Now he was sitting on top of the statue’s head—legs swinging like he was bored.

"You suck, dude."

They all looked up in shock.

Kael stood.

His voice was cold. Serious.

"You’re all too weak. I’m done playing now."

He whispered:

"Shadowbind. Third Form—Mage Slayer."

His voice was deep. Serious. Final.

From the shadows below him, the katana slowly rose—like it had been waiting.

It gleamed in the dark.

The blade was black. But the edge... the edge burned crimson.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m