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“Hero…what are you talking about?”

“You may recall how I mentioned the people within it fuel the Mist with their mana.”

The Pope frowned and nodded.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with the fact that you’ll be slaying it alone?”

“The more mana the person entering has, the stronger the life force of the Mist. Unless a person could somehow block their mana from being stolen, we can’t do anything about that. In effect, everyone who enters the Mist is fighting it one-on-one.”

With that, I glanced over to the party. They were holding their chosen Holy Relics and examining them intently. If only those could help them all grow.

“Those guys are strong. But if you ask them to face a Disaster one-on-one, all of them would shake their heads.”

I would trust only two people with that task, Arjen and Archduke Quenor. If I had to put one of them in the Mist, it would be Arjen.

“Since that’s the case, I’d much rather walk into the fog alone.”

“What the hell is going on in the fog? Will it show you a nightmare that breaks your will?”

The Pope asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s worse. It’s not showing it to you; it’s going to come true, with substance.”

The Pope wiped the scowl off his face and looked at me. His expression was cold. He seemed to be calculating something as he looked at me. The Pope stared at me for a while, exhaling sharply and opening his mouth.

“So, what is your request? I think I know what it is.”

I nodded. There was no other favor I could ask in this situation.

“I will enter the Mist tonight. I need you to ensure no one else enters, especially my allies. I’d appreciate it if you could explain why we can’t go after the Disaster together and tell them to wait patiently.”

I knew I wasn’t being fair to them. I said that and looked back at the party. Maybe what I said to the Pope was just an excuse. I don’t want to lose them. The thought of being unable to keep even what I have weighs heavily on me. What Arjen said was true. I was torn between greed and resolve.

***

(Idiot.)

Around 2:00 AM

I was sitting at my desk, ready to go, when I heard the voice of the Holy Sword in my head. Of course, I had shared this plan with Holy Sword. I wasn’t going to die. I was going to defeat the Disaster.

(I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can’t help but blame you, Elroy. You know they will resent you when they find out.)

“The Mist is different. It’s not a Disaster I can deal with simply because I’m stronger. The Giant was a tangible enemy we could fight alongside each other, but the Mist is not the same.”

The Holy Sword sighed, and I put down the pen that had been moving for the past hour. I was writing a letter to Georg. It was full of contingency plans if I lost to the Disaster.

(You shouldn’t plan for when you fail. You must believe you’ll return.)

“Of course. I will return, no matter what.”

I said and suddenly looked down at my Holy Sword. If I were to die in the fog, perhaps Arjen would retrieve and use the Holy Sword.

(I have no intention of lending my power to such a man. Don’t ever think of giving me away again, Elroy. I am your sword and yours alone.)

The Holy Sword spoke forcefully. I nodded, gripping the hilt.

(If anything happens to you, I will protect you at all costs, do you understand?)

The Holy Sword’s voice was different from her usual one.

(So fight the Mist with all your might. Don’t even think about it. It will just be another day of defeating a Disaster and saving the people.)

“Yes. Understood.”

I gave the Holy Sword my answer, then expanded my senses. The quarters the Pope had provided were silent. I checked for signs of the other party members. Georg seemed to have fallen asleep early, and Daphne was engrossed in her newly acquired spellbook. Only Marianne was tossing and turning. I decided to wait for her to fall asleep and then leave.

“Let’s go.”

Marianne fell asleep. I got up, putting my foot against the window I’d left open. The night air was cold. I grabbed the window sill and jumped out of the apartment.

(You look like a thief who stole a precious gem.)

“What kind of thief jumps from up here?”

I headed for the place where I saw the Mist earlier. The presence of the Disaster was colder than the winter chill. I met with the Pope, who was waiting with his paladins.

“I see I’ve kept you waiting, Pope.”

“That’s okay. We’ll have to start controlling the whole area when you enter the fog anyway.”

The Mist at night was even more terrifying. Nothing was coming out to attack like the Giant, but its ominous stillness instilled fear into the hearts of those who saw it. It felt like an endless plunge beyond the wall, waiting for the next soul who wishes to foolishly challenge it.

“Of course, we can’t keep them out forever because, as you said, we can’t know what’s going on inside from the outside. Even if you’re winning, if the people’s anxiety increases, we’ll have no choice but to send rescue personnel.”

“I understand. Can you hold them out for at least a week?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

The worst-case scenario is when I’m about to defeat the Mist, but they send a rescue team in, strengthening it again. I sighed as I stepped forward.

“Well, then, I’ll go in.”

“May God bless the Hero.”

I left the Pope’s words behind me and stepped into the fog. It was cold and icy. I reminded myself of my purpose. To defeat the Mist and rescue those imprisoned within it.

(Once in the Mist, it will be harder for me to speak to you. It’s a strange place with even stranger magic, and you’ll have to rely on your mental strength to survive.)

The Mists embody nightmares. It can be the past you least want to face, or it can take the form of the memories you most long for. It can conjure up your fears or force you to face what you hate.

The Mist uses its magic to materialize nightmares. If a person succumbs to them, the fog slowly drains their mana.

“…The deeper the Mist tries to read my fears, the more mana it has to consume…”

If I keep fighting and fighting the nightmare, I’ll eventually reach the core. One corner of my mouth quirked up as I stared at the surface of the swirling fog.

Arjen had faced his past then. I recall that the story of Carla, the person who mattered most to him, came up. He saw what-ifs: What if he had saved her? What if he had stayed with her instead of going to report to the commander?

And then Arjen saw the future. A future in which he completed his mission, earned enough money to quit mercenary work and lived with Carla.

It took Arjen a month to defeat the Mist. All he had to do was murder Carla.

(Elroy, remember.)

Suddenly, I heard the voice of the Holy Sword.

(You are you. No matter what, don’t lose yourself.)

I nodded and looked back one last time. I reached out for the Mist. It touched my palm, and my fingertips were engulfed in a cold sensation. I watched as the fog slowly ate me from my hand. I was being sucked in. Like a cloth made of water vapor, the smoke wrapped around my body, and I was drawn into it.

“…This is what it feels like.”

I blinked and looked ahead. The whole world was covered in a cloud of smoke. My senses weren’t blurred; my magic worked well, and my bodily sensations were sharp. I wished it dulled my senses, so I could rationalize it wasn’t real.

“Knowing that I have to face my nightmares, I can’t help but feel irritated.”

Or give in. I muttered, but I heard no response. I drew my swords. The sensation of Null and Holy Sword calmed my pounding heart. The halo of the crown floated effortlessly above my head. I stepped forward, fully prepared.

And the landscape began to change.

“…This is not what I expected.”

Suddenly, I was in a forest on the outskirts of the Capital. I looked around in bewilderment. The sword I held in my left hand had disappeared. I didn’t even feel the sensation of activating the crown. I fell to the ground in a heap, my Holy Sword in my right hand.

“Weak.”

The mana in my body was reduced to about a third of its capacity, and my muscular strength weakened. ‘It quickly ate my mana.’ I looked at my Holy Sword and stepped forward.

“What memories are you trying to show me, anyway?”

It didn’t take me long to realize what the Mist was trying to show me.

“…Why the hell are we starting here?”

Standing in my way was a large Ashen Bear. It seemed bigger than I was used to seeing in the forest. Its mouth dripped with saliva as it turned its all-white eyes toward me. With a quick flick of my Holy Sword, I turned to face it.

I remember this.

It was a few days after I entered the world. The first monster I encountered. The primal terror of prey as it faced a predator. I was in the same body as I was then. No Holy Sword, no crown of thorns. All I had were the habits of a man named Elroy.

“…Well, it’s different now.”

I wasn’t afraid. The bear was fiercer and stronger than I remembered, but the same could be said for me.

The bear lunged with its front paws. My eyes were locked on the front paw, my body telling me I would die if I didn’t dodge. I raised my Holy Sword and took a stance.

I didn’t dodge.

As the holy sword said, I am myself.

The tip of my sword slices through the air. I caught the bear’s wide-open shoulder and brought the Holy Sword down, slicing the ashen bear in half with the cleanest trajectory I’d ever created. I smiled with satisfaction at the performance of the Holy Sword itself, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

A small pool of blood formed beneath the bear’s corpse. To my dismay, I realized I could still feel the sword cutting through the flesh and the blood that got on me.

“…What the hell are you trying to show me?”

I grumbled, sheathing my sword. The Mist wasn’t done with me yet. I sighed as I gazed into the deep woods, casting dark shadows. If I walked to the other side, I probably wouldn’t find the Capital, just more of the same forest.

Good.

I set off, trying my best to ignore the anxiety bubbling up in the back of my mind. For now, it wasn’t a bad start.