Suicide Before Defeating the Final Boss

Suicide Before Defeating the Final Boss – 100

EP.100 Are you the Demon King?

Daisy approached the glass jar, her expression hardening as she picked it up. Narrowing her eyes, she peered inside.

Blue, writhing chunks of flesh.

The sight was so grotesque, so incomprehensible, that her mind struggled to process what she was looking at.

For a moment, the contents of the jar seemed to shift, as though alive.

“……”

Having just witnessed the recording of her exile and read the damning letter, this abhorrent “gift” was enough to push her to the brink. She felt as though the ground beneath her was collapsing.

‘But I can’t show this to a human.’

With tremendous effort, Daisy forced herself to stand tall, her face a mask of indifference. Yet her composure was shattered again when the recording mana stone activated once more, displaying a new scene.

─ Aaaaaargh!

The voices were unmistakable—familiar, cherished.

The image shifted to elves she had known well, their bodies crushed and torn apart under the overwhelming weight of divine power.

The gruesome sight was enough to make even a hardened warrior’s stomach churn, but for Daisy, who had shared deep bonds with those being slaughtered, the pain was unbearable.

─ D-Daisy… don’t worry… about us.

─ S-Sister… I can’t see… it hurts…

─ It’s okay, just forget us and—aaagh!

The voices echoed in her ears, their anguish clawing at her sanity. Her body trembled violently, and she barely managed to keep herself from retching.

‘Wh-what is this…’

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the saliva that dripped uncontrollably from her trembling lips. In a desperate attempt to regain control, she slapped her thighs repeatedly, but her legs had already given out.

“…Why!”

She screamed, her voice filled with a mix of anguish and rage.

She had faced countless horrors while hunting the Demon King, endured trials far worse than this—but now, her body betrayed her.

Her trembling hand lost its grip, and the glass jar slipped from her fingers, shattering on the ground.

“Da…i…sy…”

From the broken shards emerged the blue mass, writhing grotesquely as it formed something that called her name.

“…Ah…Ah?”

The voice was faint and distorted, like a dying wind passing through cracked reeds, but it was unmistakable. It was calling her name.

Heart pounding, Daisy stared at the horrific creature, unable to move.

“Dai…sy… Sis…ter…”

The voice was guttural, broken, and inhuman, yet it carried an uncanny familiarity.

As if in a nightmare, the blue mass began dragging itself toward her, its movements slow but deliberate.

‘No… No, this can’t be…’

Desperation clawed at her mind. She shut her eyes tightly, as if that would make the abomination disappear.

But it didn’t stop.

“Dai…sy… it’s… all… your… fault.”

Its voice, clearer this time, pierced her ears like a dagger.

Paralyzed with fear, Daisy peeked through her fingers to see the mass reach her leg, clinging to it with a squelch. Its haunting voice, now a strained whisper, accused her.

“All… your… fault.”

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted downward. There, among the grotesque remnants, lay a wooden pendant.

Her heart sank.

It was a pendant she had given her younger sibling upon reaching adulthood—a handcrafted symbol of her love and pride.

‘Why… why is this here?’

Daisy’s mind spiraled into denial, refusing to accept what she was seeing. Her trembling hands picked up the pendant, and as soon as she did, the recording mana stone projected another image.

This time, it was her sibling.

─ Please… save me… Sis…

The voice was desperate, tearful.

And then the sound of bones crunching.

─ Crunch… crack…

The overwhelming divine power flowed relentlessly into Daisy’s sibling, forcing their body to compress into a single, writhing mass.

The scene was beyond horrific.

Daisy stared, her expression blank as if her mind had simply shut down, unable to process what she was seeing.

From the mana stone, the hero’s voice rang out cheerfully:

“I hope you liked my gift.”

Gift?

That single word ignited a surge of revulsion and fury within her, and she turned her gaze toward the hero, intent on glaring at him with all the hatred she could muster.

But the anger didn’t come.

Instead, a warmth bloomed within her chest—an affection so out of place it felt sickening.

‘…What?’

Realizing something was profoundly wrong, Daisy tried to purge the feeling. Desperate, she grabbed a nearby rock and slammed it against her head, splitting the skin open.

Blue blood trickled down her forehead, dripping onto the ground.

Still, the inexplicable emotions persisted, creeping further into her heart.

‘Why…? Why is this happening?’

Her trembling hand brushed against the blood now staining her face, but no matter how much she fought it, the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Her mind, piece by piece, was being consumed by this grotesque adoration.

***

Jeong-hyeon watched the retreating figure of the golden goblin he had sent to deliver a “gift” to Daisy, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. As always, tormenting his enemies brought him immense satisfaction.

‘Just watching is enough to fill me up.’

He mused, lying on the ground and savoring the moment. Was this what adults referred to as happiness?

As he relaxed, Hana suddenly flopped onto his chest and snuggled into his arms. Jeong-hyeon chuckled softly, stroking Hana’s hair and relishing the fleeting sense of peace. Before long, Miria approached, her expression a mix of exhaustion and inquiry.

“Well… is everything we needed to do here finished?” she asked.

“Seems like it,” Jeong-hyeon replied casually.

Miria glanced toward the elves, who stood nearby with their heads lowered. She then turned back to him, offering her suggestion.

“Then how about we head back? I really want to get some rest.”

Her words made Jeong-hyeon glance toward the Demon King, still lying beside them. Considering the state of their group—injuries and all—getting some rest wasn’t a bad idea. He made his decision, standing up with Hana still in his arms.

“Alright. But first, tell the elves to declare war on the kingdom and the church,” he instructed.

Miria blinked, her expression turning dazed as if she couldn’t quite process what he had just said. Eventually, she sighed, seemingly deciding to abandon questioning his intentions.

“…Fine,” she muttered.

“Good. Let’s get ready to leave,” Jeong-hyeon said. He looked at Hana and asked her to handle their return. Hana puffed up with confidence and eagerly agreed.

***

Despite estimating that it would take at least a day or two to return, they arrived back at the academy dormitory within hours.

‘High-level spirits really are something else.’

Remembering how Miria constantly praised Hana, he found himself nodding in agreement. As they arrived, he stroked Hana’s head in gratitude, but the moment of peace was interrupted by Charlotte, who approached with a weary face.

“Sorry, but I’ll head in first,” she said, gesturing toward the dormitory. “I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me.”

“Go ahead,” Jeong-hyeon said, watching her retreat. The thought of returning to a mountain of tasks immediately after coming back struck him as unfortunate, but he could only shake his head in sympathy.

Not long after, Miria also excused herself for similar reasons, leaving Jeong-hyeon to reflect on their hard work. As his gaze shifted, he noticed Lucia standing nearby, looking as though she had no particular purpose. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

“Lucia, don’t you have anything to do?” he teased.

Lucia flinched, her posture stiffening as she stammered in response.

“O-Of course I do! Plenty of things to do!”

Her transparent attempt to cover up her idleness only amused Jeong-hyeon further.

“Oh? Like what?” he asked, barely suppressing a laugh as he waited for her answer.

Lucia froze for a moment, her words catching in her throat as she stared at Jeong-hyeon. Then, as if an idea had struck her, she blurted out in a hurried tone.

“I-I need to water the plants! Feed Hana! A-And…!”

Jeong-hyeon raised an eyebrow, recognizing that pressing her further would likely reduce her to tears. Opting for mercy, he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right; you’ve got a lot on your plate,” he said.

“Y-Yes! I do!” Lucia replied, a mix of relief and nervousness on her face.

“Well then, I guess I can’t ask you to hang out,” Jeong-hyeon added nonchalantly.

“……”

At his words, Lucia’s expression shifted to one of utter betrayal. Her mouth hung open, speechless. Her dejection amused him, and a quiet chuckle escaped him. Finally, in a small, sulking voice, she muttered, “Y-Yes, I’m too busy to play…”

Her pout was endearing enough to make Jeong-hyeon laugh, but their moment was interrupted by an unfamiliar, delicate voice.

“…This place…”

He turned to see the Demon King standing nearby, her long hair cascading around her as she looked dazedly at her surroundings. Seeing her unsteady, Jeong-hyeon handed Hana off to Lucia and approached the Demon King.

“Can we talk?” he asked gently.

Though he thought he’d sounded kind, the Demon King flinched as he spoke, retreating a step and eyeing him warily.

“W-Who are you?”

Jeong-hyeon paused, unsure how to respond, before giving the simplest answer he could muster.

“The Hero who resurrected you.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she stared at him blankly. Jeong-hyeon took a seat on a nearby chair, gesturing for her to sit as well.

“How’s your body holding up?” he asked.

The Demon King hurriedly checked herself over, her confusion growing.

“I-I’m certain I died… Why am I alive?”

I told you. I brought you back,” he replied.

“H-How? And why?”

Her confusion was palpable as she stared at him, and Jeong-hyeon handed her a glass of water.

“It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it?”

After a hesitant nod from her, Jeong-hyeon began explaining, starting from his arrival in this world. He recounted everything—the time he was treated as a “holy bomb,” the hardships, and the lengths he had gone to survive.

The Demon King listened with growing astonishment, her expression turning incredulous as she compared his story to her own experiences.

“When I died, I wasn’t treated like a bomb. I was revered, honored… not tormented like that.”

“Is that so?”

Jeong-hyeon asked, his lips twitching in annoyance.

“Yes, though… it wasn’t exactly pleasant either. It was more like being worshipped as a tool—cold, mechanical reverence, without genuine connection.”

Jeong-hyeon nodded, deciding to set that aside. It wasn’t the crux of their discussion.

As he continued detailing his exploits, the Demon King’s face contorted in disbelief. Her jaw dropped when he spoke of using royal corpses to build golems, planting bombs in the church, and gathering every usable corpse into his subspace.

“And just recently, I brewed a Paladin-infused liquor and sent it to the Pope,” he finished with a smirk.

“P-Paladin liquor…?” she echoed, horrified.

Staring at him with a mix of shock and awe, she finally asked in a serious tone, “Are you… perhaps… the Demon King?”