[In a Spacetime That May Exist] I Came to Like Humans

[A possible spacetime]

[A possible spacetime]

[A possible spacetime]

(Important things said three times)

About a hundred years before the hero Himmel defeated the Demon King, in late autumn.

The winds of the Northern Frontier carried a biting chill, swirling up withered yellow leaves and rushing towards a secluded little village nestled in a valley.

However, what rose above the village at that moment was not cooking smoke, but thick, hot, black smoke mixed with sparks.

The flames, like a greedy beast, devoured the wooden structure of the house, crackling and popping, interspersed with the booming of collapsing beams and pillars. The air was filled with the smells of burning, blood, and something deeper—a sense of despair.

He walked slowly, traversing the hellish landscape, yet his steps were as steady as if he were strolling in a courtyard.

His long, purplish-red hair was meticulously combed back, revealing a pale, almost transparent forehead and a pair of huge, curved horns on either side of his head, as if carved from obsidian. His face was cold and stern, with sharp lines, and his skin was a porcelain white that never saw sunlight, creating an eerie contrast with the flickering firelight around him.

He was dressed in a dark green formal suit, exquisitely tailored, the fabric gleaming with a dark sheen in the firelight. A gold sash hung from his shoulders, and the lapels and cuffs were embroidered with intricate and ancient patterns in gold thread, shimmering slightly with his movements.

A more luxurious gold shawl was casually yet dignifiedly draped over his left shoulder, and he wore purple-red gloves that matched his hair color.

He is Macht.

The strongest of the Seven Sages of Destruction of the Demons Clan.

He has received orders from the Demon King and is destroying this human village.

All he could see were broken walls and charred corpses. The remaining flames danced among the ruins, reflecting in his unmoving eyes.

This is just one of countless villages that have been destroyed so far, he thought.

This is probably like human soldiers participating in war, who don't need to know why they're fighting. He thought.

His heart was like a frozen lake, undisturbed by any ripples. Killing was as natural as breathing to him; it was both a mission and an instinct.

He held a broadsword in his hand, its exaggerated shape and powerful presence complementing his luxurious gold hue and overall attire. Blood dripped slowly from the blade, leaving ominous patterns on the snow.

He walked toward the relatively intact open space in the center of the village.

A man dressed in a simple priest's robe knelt there, tightly holding a child of about five or six years old who had already lost consciousness.

The priest kept muttering broken words.

[Malice], [Evil], [Guilt]... The priest's voice was hoarse and desperate as he repeated these words that Macht had long since grown tired of hearing.

This is something Macht has heard countless times. The wails, curses, and pleas before death may differ in form, but their core is strikingly consistent—they are all futile emotional outbursts by the weak when faced with irresistible destruction.

But this time, something seems a little different.

The priest's chanting gradually subsided and finally stopped abruptly.

He raised his head, his lifeless eyes piercing through the billowing smoke, staring straight at Macht's face.

The listlessness and numbness remained in his gaze, but something else seemed to have been added. The expression on his face changed from listlessness and numbness to a more bewildered, almost dazed confusion and... pity.

Macht calmly looked back at him.

This priest seems slightly different from the humans I've killed so far, he thought.

A faint, almost imperceptible ripple, like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, spread across the cold lake of his heart.

"Why are you suddenly silent?" Macht asked, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion. "Aren't you going to continue begging for mercy?"

The priest remained silent, staring at him blankly for several seconds. Then, the bewilderment on his face was gradually replaced by an indescribable expression, a mixture of pity and profound understanding.

He opened his mouth, his chapped lips moving, the sound so faint it was almost drowned out by the crackling of the flames:

"I see..." the priest said, staring blankly at Macht, "You... can't understand... it's really... so pitiful..."

Macht remained expressionless.

A flash of golden light streaked past.

The priest's body and his life were severed together.

He was still holding the child in his arms, but his upper body collapsed to the ground, and blood quickly soaked the ground beneath him.

Macht sheathed his sword with fluid and natural movements.

Incomprehensible? Pitiful?

He knew the meaning of these words. Demons possessed high intelligence, and learning human language and knowledge was not difficult for them.

But what is it that is "incomprehensible"? And who is the one who is "pitiful"?

Isn't that you, the one who died?

Does he mean me?

Why?

An unprecedented and vague question began to grow in his mind.

Although he knew the meaning of those words, he didn't understand what kind of specific emotional experience they corresponded to.

"I know this is horror." Macht turned and walked towards a white-haired girl who was cowering in a corner, clutching her head and trembling with fear. The girl sensed the approaching shadow and closed her eyes in terror.

Cut him down.

"I know this is anger." His gaze shifted to a red-haired man with a "Nagato" hairstyle not far away. The man gripped an iron sword tightly in his hand, his face contorted with extreme rage, and he charged forward recklessly.

Cut him down.

"I know this is sadness." He looked at the woman lying beside the red-haired man's body; her eyes were empty and lifeless, she simply knelt there, as if her soul had been ripped away.

Cut him down.

He continued walking.

A knight appeared before him, his eyes stained with large patches of dried blood. He raised his sword and, with his last ounce of strength, attempted to attack him.

"This is called murderous intent, a feeling stemming from anger and hatred," Macht stated, before striking again, and the knight fell to the ground.

"I know that too."

He continued walking along the village paths strewn with corpses and Burning buildings, his steps still steady.

"But."

He stopped and looked at his right hand, which was covered by a purplish-red glove.

What is 'malice'?

What is 'guilt'?

What exactly did the priest mean by "incomprehensible"?

Why is it that Demons lack certain emotions that humans take for granted?

This is the first time in my life that I have felt interested in humans.

I hope to understand them better.

His gaze swept across the ravaged village, finally settling on the edge of the village, in the shadow of a half-collapsed barn.

There, two figures were huddled together—one older and one younger, who appeared to be brothers. The older boy was about ten years old, and he was embracing his younger brother, who was probably only five or six years old.

They were the last living people left in the village.

Macht walked toward them. As he approached, the two boys trembled even more violently, and the younger brother even let out a suppressed sob.

Macht stopped a few steps in front of them, his tall figure casting a shadow that almost completely enveloped the two small children. He did not immediately draw his sword.

An idea took shape in his mind. An experiment.

"Let them fight each other." Macht tossed each of them a dagger, his voice still calm, yet carrying an undeniable command. "I will spare the life of the one who survives."

The metal dagger struck the ground with a crisp sound.

Then he took a few steps back and sat down gracefully on a half-burnt wooden stake.

He thought this was an attempt to understand the other person's feelings.

He looked at the two boys who were pointing daggers at each other.

The firelight cast their shadows onto the scorched ground, twisting and swaying, just like the inner struggles they were going through.

This is kindness, Macht thought. He gave them a choice, a possibility of survival that didn't exist before.

Originally, I planned to obey the Demon King's order to kill them all, but I think I can understand humans, so letting one human go wouldn't be a big deal.

It's wonderful that one of the people who should have all died will survive because of my kindness.

This thought gave him a strange sense of satisfaction.

I've fallen in love with humans. He thought quietly.