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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuzio
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Ron lived in constant pain.
I used holy power to drive away the demonic energy.
Odrox, with his naturally strong physique and his tribe’s special tattoos, could suppress the demonic energy that seeped into his body.
Sola, with her immense magical power, incinerated the demonic energy.
Rain, harmonizing her holy power and magic, even managed to turn the demonic energy into her own power.
Of course, it wasn’t like it didn’t affect us at all, but it was bearable.
And then there was Ron.
He had no extraordinary strength.
He had no holy power at all, and although his magic had grown, it was not enough to control the dense demonic energy of the Demon Realm that weighed down his body.
The demonic energy clung to him.
It was raw, untamed energy, different from the kind used in curses.
The sight of him collapsing as soon as we entered the Demon Realm, clutching his waist in agony, was a memory I never wanted to relive.
The sight of Ron, who always tried to hide his pain, letting out a low groan and covering his mouth as if to stop himself from vomiting…
He seemed to adapt somehow.
But not to the demonic energy.
He adapted to pushing himself beyond his limits.
The demonic energy that had permeated his body would course through his veins, stabbing at him from within.
Just existing would bring on overwhelming fatigue, a chilling sensation that stole his body heat, and a pain that felt like his circulatory system was being twisted.
But Ron kept moving.
He scouted and took care of everything, covering a wider area than I could even manage when I was at my best.
It was as if he was trying to forget his pain by exhausting his body and mind.
We couldn’t bring ourselves to say anything to him.
There was no one among us who could perform the scout’s role more perfectly than Ron, and none of us could afford to move individually in this wasteland where we could be ambushed at any moment.
So, we relied on Ron, and his life of pain continued for a long time.
The curse only added to his suffering.
I used healing magic periodically, but it was weakened in the demonically charged environment of the Demon Realm.
It was only a temporary solution; a stopgap measure that couldn’t address the root cause.
One day, as we were taking a short break after setting up our usual night watch, I noticed Ron constantly scratching his ear.
I initially thought his ear was just itchy, but I was wrong.
He was frantically scratching, digging his fingers into his ear as if trying to gouge something out.
Until blood flowed.
Until his hand was stained red.
Unaware of what was happening in the darkness of the Demon Realm, until the metallic scent of Ron’s blood reached us, we immediately restrained his arms.
When we questioned him, he simply stared at us with those pitch-black eyes and said calmly,
“I keep hearing voices.”
We pressed him further, our tone slightly forceful as we sensed he was trying to hide something.
Ron confessed that ever since we entered the Demon Realm, four days ago, he had been hearing screams and voices whispering insults, trying to break him down.
He pushed himself to his limits, making excuses about needing to keep his body moving to combat the cold.
Naturally, both his physical and mental fatigue accumulated.
The hallucinations were just one of the consequences.
To put it bluntly, he was on the verge of collapse.
Both physically and mentally.
No one, except Ron himself, knew why he was pushing himself so hard.
We neglected him.
There was no denying it.
We made excuses, telling ourselves there was no one else who could do what he did.
We didn’t help him.
We told ourselves it was for the sake of the continent.
No, that wasn’t true.
We simply looked away, using the excuse that we were all struggling.
I prayed.
Not for the sake of the world, but for him.
Every morning, in that brief moment before we set out on our journey, and again before sleep, I prayed.
Every single day.
It was all I could do.
When our journey finally ended and we decided to go our separate ways, I headed for the largest temple of our order.
I devoted myself to prayer, eating only the bare minimum to survive.
Not for the sake of the world, but for him.
It was all I could do.
He was living in pain.
He probably still is.
The memories of the Demon Realm were too horrific, and none of us could forget what happened there.
We weren’t the same people when our journey began compared to when it ended.
Now, I can’t bear to see him suffer any longer.
… If someone were to hurt him again…
I finished my prayer and looked at the mana stone.
I activated it.
Static crackled, followed by a voice.
The screen remained dark, but I couldn’t tell what it was displaying.
Perhaps Ron had put the stone in his bag or pocket, obstructing the view.
It didn’t matter.
I could still hear the voices.
It was a conversation between a man and Ron.
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“Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to keel over.”
When we returned to the dorm after class, Tolman asked cautiously.
For that unobservant musclehead to express concern, my condition must have been truly awful.
It was a bit considerate of him to phrase it as “you’re about to keel over” instead of “you look terrible.” Still, I didn’t pry.
“What do you mean?”
I replied nonchalantly, as if nothing was wrong.
And to be honest, it really wasn’t a big deal.
This kind of subtle, irritating harassment wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
It was more laughable than anything, that they considered this childish prank to be actual bullying.
I mean, tripping someone was pretty low on the list of things I considered bullying.
Burning someone with fire, throwing feces, that kind of thing, now that would be bullying.
And if that ever happened, I would immediately report it to Rain and have the perpetrator expelled.
I’d tell her, “How dare you do this to the Hero’s comrade?”
But the current situation was so pathetic that it felt awkward even calling it bullying.
I felt someone rip a page out of the textbook I’d taken out of my bag, probably targeting my slightly limited field of vision because of the bandages.
It didn’t affect me at all, since I rarely paid attention in class anyway.
Someone came up to me while I was eating and sneered, “Look at the demon spawn, eating human food.” As if to emphasize their point, another student spat in my bowl.
For the record, I have perfectly normal teeth.
Not sharp fangs or anything.
I wasn’t that desperate to eat food contaminated with someone else’s saliva.
Ignoring them, I got up and walked over to the trash can.
“Oops, sorry about that-”
Someone, I don’t know who, tripped me.
I could have easily kept my balance, but that wasn’t the reaction they wanted.
Alright, I’ll play the clown.
Crash—!!
“Did you lose your strength after the Demon King died? Or have you been in the human realm for too long and forgotten how to fight?”
A large student approached me as I lay sprawled on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of my tray, and grabbed me by the hair.
Oh, is he going to hit me?
I quickly extinguished that faint glimmer of hope and put on a vacant expression.
The large student, mistaking my silence for fear, tightened his grip and pulled me to my feet.
“You know we don’t tolerate violence in the academy, right? But things might be a bit rough for you in the dorms. Wait for me at the end of the hallway on the 3rd floor after class.”
He added “filthy animal” under his breath as he released me.
I didn’t say anything as I cleaned up the spilled food.
No one offered to help, only snickers and whispers reached my ears.
Thump— Thump— Thump—
“Kekeke…”
“And so— in this hour—”
Thump—
Thump—
“He’s not reacting, but it’s still funny.”
Small lumps of something hit me on the head.
A few got tangled in my hair, which was annoying.
Prion was sitting behind me, diligently continuing his petty harassment.
The harassment continued in other classes.
During lectures, he would deliberately talk over me, and during discussions, he would wait until I was about to speak or present my opinion, then start making noise.
The only time the harassment stopped was when Prieresil, who seemed somewhat favorably disposed towards me, was around.
If you’re going to do it, at least do it right.
Hit me or something.
I wouldn’t mind a good fight.
I silently pleaded for some real action, but the pathetic harassment continued unabated.
I was the only one getting frustrated.
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[Cmon Ron, i know you can do something about this, at least tell one of your muscle mommies about it]
