An Unbelievable Story

Ever since Maxwell was a boy, he had been captivated by the pages of fantasy novels—tales of valiant heroes, grand adventures, and epic battles against the forces of darkness. Those stories inspired him to become an adventurer, convinced he was destined for greatness, perhaps even to one day defeat the demon king like the heroes he idolized.

But reality was far less kind. When he became an adventurer at fifteen, Maxwell was faced with a crushing truth: he couldn't level up. He remained stagnant, watching his peers surpass him, becoming stronger and celebrated. In time, he resigned himself to being a side character—a mere support for the hero, never the star of the tale.

Yet fate had other plans. Against all odds, Maxwell slew a demon lord, an act that shattered his own expectations. For the first time in years, the spark of belief in his own heroism reignited.

Meanwhile, on the Demon Clan Continent

Far across the land, the demon lords felt a profound shift in the fabric of the world. A massive surge of mana had disappeared, leaving behind an unnatural void. They knew the meaning instantly: one of their own had been killed.

Though they were scattered across the continent, the demon lords convened in the astral realm, forming a magical circle that united their consciousness's. Eight figures appeared in the ethereal space, their forms obscured by shadows, silhouettes of malice and power. Only the glowing insignias of their ranks distinguished them, from 9 to 2.

The absence of two ranks spoke louder than words.

"It's Tadesse," one voice broke the tense silence, deep and reverberating. "The 10th demon lord has fallen."

"Tadesse?" The 2nd Demon Lord's voice was sharp, commanding. "He was the weakest among us, but his death is still… troubling. No adventurer has ever been recorded at level 100 or above. How could this happen?"

"His magic was regeneration," added the 9th Demon Lord, voice tinged with unease. "That ability made him nearly unkillable. Yet here we are."

"There are ways to kill even the immortal," the 5th Demon Lord interjected darkly. "You of all people should know that. Tadesse was on a mission when he fell—searching for the boy who stole the Demon King's Rock. Do you think that boy was responsible?"

The suggestion hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"And where was his last known location?" the 2nd Demon Lord demanded.

"Near the outskirts of Legostream," replied the 5th.

"Legostream… The Greater Council's domain," the 2nd Demon Lord mused. "Troubling indeed. I'll report this directly to the Demon King. Until then, do nothing. We move only when commanded."

With those final words, the Second Demon Lord severed the connection, leaving the astral realm in silence once more. The remaining lords exchanged brief, uneasy glances before fading from the space one by one.

Back in the mountains, Fay's eyes fluttered open. Her body felt heavy, her head pounding as the cold, biting air stung her cheeks. The memory of the 10th Demon Lord's assault still lingered like a nightmare. But what she saw next shattered her disoriented haze: Maxwell, kneeling in the thick snow, hands glowing faintly as he healed Arthur's near-fatal wounds.

She blinked in disbelief. "What… happened? Why aren't we dead?"

Maxwell turned to her, his face painted with an uncharacteristic mixture of joy and disbelief. "You're not going to believe it… I barely believe it myself. But I… I killed the Demon Lord."

Fay stared at him, her chest tightening. She wanted to laugh, to scold him for saying something so absurd, but her eyes drifted past him. Amid the endless snow, a massive, jagged hole scarred the earth, its edges warped and devoid of snow. At its centre, a single artefact remained: the insignia of the 10th Demon Lord.

Her breath caught.

"No… no way." She forced herself to her feet, swaying slightly. "What are you saying, Maxwell? You're talking nonsense! You can't—" Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on his hands. The glow of healing magic.

'Maxwell? Using healing magic?'

The moment Arthur's wounds fully closed, the light in Maxwell's hands flickered out like a candle in the wind. He paid it no mind, his grin as bright as the sunrise.

"I actually did it," he muttered to himself, a small laugh escaping his lips. "I'm… strong enough."

Arthur and Hana groaned as they stirred, their eyes opening to a world they thought they'd never see again.

"Wait," Arthur muttered, sitting up and clutching his head. "What… happened? Why are we alive?"

Hana sat up beside him, her eyes darting around in confusion. "I thought… weren't we—?"

Maxwell interrupted, his voice brimming with pride. "I killed Tadesse. I saved us."

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, Arthur and Hana burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the barren snowfield.

"Maxwell," Arthur said between chuckles, "you've lost it. How could you kill a Demon Lord?"

"Tell me, Maxwell," Fay said, crossing her arms. "If you're so sure, how exactly did you do it?"

Maxwell's grin widened. "I used Void."

Fay's stomach dropped. Her elvish eyes darted to the warped terrain around the hole. The trees closest to the crater were twisted unnaturally, their very molecules disfigured. It was unmistakable—evidence of Void magic, the 49th forbidden spell.

But… Maxwell?

"That's impossible," she said, her voice trembling. "Void takes 500 years of lifespan from its user. Only elves or dwarves could afford such a price. And even then, Maxwell, your mana is so low you couldn't cast anything close to that level of magic!"

"I'm telling you, it was me," Maxwell insisted, though his voice wavered slightly now.

Fay narrowed her eyes, focusing her elvish sight on him. "No, it wasn't. I'm looking at your lifespan right now, and it's unchanged. Exactly the same as it was before."

For the first time, doubt began to creep into Maxwell's expression. "But I… I know it was me…"

Arthur picked up the 10th Demon Lord's insignia, his lips curling into a sneer. "Enough with the fairy tales, Maxwell. You couldn't even hold your own against bandits, let alone kill Tadesse. If someone killed him, it wasn't you." He pointed the insignia at Maxwell. "A feat like this would've boosted your level far beyond what it is now. But you're still just a level 1, barely above a civilian. You're nothing."

Arthur turned to the others, his tone dark. "There's a level 100 adventurer among us, one who doesn't want to be found out. Whoever they are, they're hiding their strength." His fist clenched tightly, his knuckles white with frustration.

Without another word, Arthur stormed off toward Legostream. "I'm going to inform the Greater Council. Let them deal with this mystery."

Maxwell's heart sank as his friends dismissed his claims. Deep down, he couldn't blame them. Faced with the facts, even he struggled to make sense of what had happened. The power that had coursed through him during his battle with the demon lord felt foreign, inexplicable. Where had it come from?

Fay, however, wasn't as quick to dismiss him. While she didn't believe Maxwell had defeated the demon lord, she knew her best friend wasn't a liar. If he believed it, then there had to be more to the story. And then there was the healing magic—something she had seen with her own eyes, something Maxwell shouldn't have been capable of.

Deciding to dig deeper, Fay softened her tone. "Alright, Maxwell," she said, folding her arms. "Let's say, for a moment, that you did defeat the demon lord. How? Where did this power come from?"

Maxwell frowned, his thoughts drifting back. He replayed every moment in his mind, searching for an answer, until a memory surfaced—hazy but vivid.

"The bar," he murmured.

"What bar?" Fay asked.

"The night before… I was drunk at the bar," Maxwell said slowly, piecing it together. "I met someone. A man. He overheard my prayers—about wanting to be strong, to prove I wasn't just a side character. He… he called himself a 'man of culture.'"

Fay raised an eyebrow, sceptical but curious. "And you think this man gave you power?"

Maxwell nodded. "I don't know how, but it's the only explanation."

Without wasting a moment, the two made their way to the bar. The snowy mountains gave way to the bustling streets of Legostream, the city buzzing with life even as dusk approached. Maxwell's heart pounded as they pushed open the wooden door of the tavern, stepping into its warm, dimly lit interior.

The bartender looked up from polishing a glass, greeting them with a practiced smile. "Back so soon, Maxwell? Didn't think you'd recover from last night's drinks that quickly."

Maxwell ignored the jab, leaning on the counter. "I need to ask you something. Last night, I was talking to a man—a stranger. Tall, other worldly attire, called himself a 'man of culture.' Do you remember him?"

The bartender frowned, tilting his head. "Man of culture? I don't remember anyone like that. You were talking, sure, but… to yourself."

Maxwell blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words. "To myself? That's impossible. He was right there! We spoke—he answered me!"

The bartender shrugged. "You were pretty deep in your cups. Maybe you imagined him."

Fay crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as she listened. Maxwell turned to her, desperation in his eyes.

"You believe me, right?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

Fay hesitated, glancing at the bartender, then back at Maxwell. "I believe you believe it," she said carefully. "But… this doesn't exactly help your case."

Maxwell clenched his fists, his mind racing. Then, as if a light had flickered on in his thoughts, he straightened. "No," he said firmly. "This doesn't disprove anything. If I was the only one who could see him… maybe that's the point."

Fay's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Maxwell turned to her, his eyes alight with a mix of excitement and fear. "Think about it, Fay. No ordinary being could grant someone enough power to take down a demon lord—not unless they were…"

Fay's breath hitched as the realization dawned. "A Supreme Being," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.