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As Leon entered the basement of District Twenty-Three through the hole prepared by Khan, a stinging sensation hit his nose. The stench, so dense it was nearly poisonous, was a mixture of blood and rot thick in the air.
Even Caesare’s usually composed face grew clouded. With far more bitter experiences than Leon, he could sense it. Countless lives had perished here, and the suffering they endured had been immense.
They continued walking in utter silence like cats, making no sound. They passed through several rooms, checking the interiors. There was a room where human skulls were stacked, a room filled with torture tools, and even a room where unidentifiable lumps of flesh squirmed.
It was a living nightmare. Leon suppressed the nausea rising to his throat and searched for anything that could serve as evidence, slipping items into his pouch.
In a stern voice, El-Cid said, —Endure it, but you must never grow numb to this. Never look away from such horrors and tragedy. Even if no one else remembers, a Hero must remember. Because this is what your true enemy will always look like.
Not the Demon King? Leon asked.
—Ha! As if a damn Demon King could count as your enemy. The world isn’t that easy, you know? Beating one villain isn’t going to be anywhere near enough to salvation.
According to the Scripture of the goddess, the Hero’s only role was to bring a better tomorrow than today. Nowhere did it say to defeat Demon Kings or slay evil beings—the...
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