The Anlin Plain lies in the central part of the continent, one of the few open terrains amidst the long dividing line of towering mountains separating the human kingdoms from the demon territories.
Thus, over a thousand years of history, this place has become the main battlefield for countless human-demon conflicts.
As far as the eye can see, there are no trees; the land, repeatedly baptized by magic and blood, has been reduced to scorched earth, black and hard, unable to sustain even the smallest blade of grass.
In the midst of this scorched land stands a fortress, its fluttering banners embroidered with a golden sword intertwined with pure white wings.
Such a symbol signifies that stationed here are the Holy War Knights, led by the Chosen Hero and belonging to the Church of the Supreme God.
However, at this moment, the scene inside the fortress is not much different from the desolation outside.
Wounded soldiers are scattered everywhere, their cries of pain echoing through the air, while damaged armor and weapons are carelessly discarded due to the severe shortage of hands in the chaotic aftermath.
Healers skilled in curative magic move frantically through the crowd, constantly casting their abilities, their faces pale from overexertion.
Yet even so, the line of those awaiting treatment seems endless.
These people are still considered fortunate, for many others—the remains of those who have completely lost their lives, or parts of their remains—are piled in a corner of the camp, receiving none of the respect owed to the fallen, the thick stench of blood making it nearly impossible for anyone nearby to breathe.
After all, with the current situation, even the living are barely being attended to, so the dead must be temporarily neglected.
In the center of the camp stands a tent slightly larger than the others, its curtains tightly drawn, though faint sounds of an argument can still be heard from within.
“This battle was an utter and complete failure!”
A young woman in golden armor slams her fist on the table covered with maps, speaking with frustration.
Her name is Liya Alfred, one of the Chosen Heroes, the commander of this knight order, and the leader of the hero team “Blade of the Goddess.”
Around twenty years old, tall and striking, with pure white skin, flowing golden hair, and flawless features, her beauty is breathtaking.
Were it not for her fully armed appearance, she would undoubtedly be mistaken for a princess or the daughter of a great noble.
Clad in ornate golden armor adorned with intricate patterns proclaiming her sacred status, paired with a pure white cape and a large holy sword hanging at her waist, her appearance not only does nothing to diminish her beauty but adds a heroic, even dashing air to it.
The only flaw is the clenched teeth and distorted expression on her face at this moment.
Across the table, a young man facing Liya’s wrath shakes his head:
“Failure? I… cough cough cough… where did we fail? One of the thirteen demon leaders, the Great Witch, has been confirmed dead. Cough cough cough… Isn’t that achieving the goal?”
The young man, also around twenty, has short black hair and dark eyes, wearing plain silver armor that contrasts sharply with Liya’s flamboyant appearance, making him somewhat unremarkable.
His features are handsome, but his face is deathly pale, wracked by constant coughing, each fit leaving traces of red liquid in his palm.
His name is Eze, a member of the same team as Liya and also a Chosen Hero.
The so-called Chosen Heroes are, in essence, otherworldly transmigrators pulled into this world by the Goddess to serve as her tools.
Eze—back when he wasn’t called that—was an ordinary college student in his original world, who met an untimely end after an intimate encounter with a truck and was brought to this world, becoming a hero in a daze.
Hearing his words, Liya’s expression grows even more unhinged:
“Where did we succeed!? The knight order lost 65% of its forces, all four Chosen Heroes were severely injured and unable to function for months. You call this a success!?”
“In… cough cough… in the original plan, I estimated losses would reach 80%, with one or two heroes dying to achieve the goal.”
Despite his terrible condition, Eze narrows his eyes and speaks calmly, almost coldly.
“And you don’t call that… cough cough… a success?”
Bang!!!
The wooden table in front of them shatters under the hero’s furious punch.
“What the hell were you doing when you made this plan? Why didn’t you say this earlier!?”
Eze wipes the blood from his mouth, slowly raises his head, and looks at his teammate with a peculiar gaze, sighing softly and shaking his head:
“First, the battle plan, including all potential risks and losses, was clearly outlined in the report. Don’t tell me you didn’t read it through.”
“Second, at the meeting to decide whether to proceed with this operation, the vote was three in favor, one against—the only opposing vote was mine. This— cough cough cough—”
As he speaks, a sharp pain surges from Eze’s chest, followed by a violent coughing fit, leaving another pool of black blood on the table.
After gasping for air for a while, he finally lifts his head again, facing Liya’s increasingly frozen expression.
“Third… Do you remember the plan I proposed a month ago? To spend three months clearing out the surrounding enemies, isolating the target before launching the attack. Who was it that insisted on directly targeting the Great Witch?”
Of course, it was the commander of this team standing before him.
As these words leave his mouth, Liya’s fair skin flushes red, her fists clenching so tightly they creak.
Then—
“You’re blaming me? The plan was so hard to make because you’re too weak and useless!”
“Heh—”
Eze’s lips twitch, letting out a faint sound of disdain.
Weak?
Indeed.
Among the heroes brought to this world, not just Liya and her team, but across the five teams of twenty heroes blessed by the Goddess, Eze is undeniably the weakest.
Typically, thanks to the Goddess’s blessing, heroes possess a crushing advantage over ordinary humans, but Eze is weaker than even many locals.
He doesn’t know why—perhaps the Goddess made a mistake during his transmigration?
Or maybe, as a shut-in college student, his base condition was just too poor compared to others?
Whatever the reason, the result is clear: as the battles escalated, Eze increasingly struggled to keep up, an indisputable fact.
This battle was no different.
When facing the Great Witch and her elite guards, his teammates had already dealt sufficient damage, but Eze couldn’t even manage a proper finishing blow, only succeeding in piercing her chest with his sword after taking a direct hit from a powerful attack.
And that led to his current state.
Seeing Eze remain silent, Liya sneers and presses harder:
“You said you’re weak, so you’d focus on logistics and planning, and this is the result?
This kind of plan can’t even cover the gaps caused by your lack of strength!”
“We’ve been in this world for two years—two years! And we haven’t taken down a single demon leader. Meanwhile, ‘Silver Star,’ those rookies who arrived just three months ago, have already killed one. How could we possibly have three months to take it slow!?”
There are five hero teams, nominally in a cooperative relationship.
After all, the enemies they face, the environments they’re in, and their own strengths vary greatly, but they’re all fighting for the same goal, making them comrades-in-arms, if not exactly companions.
So Eze harbors no competitive feelings toward them, even offering support to others behind the scenes when he can.
But Liya doesn’t think that way.
Unlike Eze, she comes from a world of swords and magic, was born a noble, and is the top hero of the first hero team in this world.
This makes her obsessively driven by honor and prestige.
The Silver Star team, the last to arrive in this world, successfully defeated one of the thirteen demon leaders, the Vampire Lord, just a month ago, which left Liya, whose own battles were progressing slowly, extremely frustrated.
That’s why she pressured Eze to immediately devise a plan to take down the Great Witch.
Honestly, it was absurd.
The thirteen demon leaders are the heads of the thirteen most powerful demon clans, essentially super-enhanced versions of the “Four Heavenly Kings,” each possessing godlike strength.
And unlike brainless game bosses, they don’t fight fair one-on-one; each is surrounded by powerful armies that are often even more threatening than the leaders themselves.
The Vampire Lord was defeated because he arrogantly went “hunting” alone, giving Silver Star an opportunity.
The Great Witch was different. Liya’s demand was akin to fighting a boss and an entire dungeon’s worth of minions in a single battle.
For the past month, Eze wracked his brain, coordinated with various factions, expended countless resources, and paid a heavy price to create a plan with massive losses, assembling the necessary forces.
He had hoped that Liya, upon seeing the projected losses, would back down, but after skimming a few pages and confirming the plan’s theoretical feasibility, she immediately greenlit its execution.
All the painstakingly detailed sections about risks and losses were left to gather dust.
The strategy was hers, the targets were hers, the deadlines were hers, and the approval was hers. Yet, when everything unfolded as planned, she refused to take responsibility.
Eze was numb.
Clutching his face in pain, the wounds from the battle combined with the overwhelming exhaustion from constant overwork hit him all at once.
Seeing Eze lower his head, eyes lifeless, Liya, believing she had the upper hand as usual, grows even more aggressive:
“At the end of the day, as a hero, you can’t even beat a top-tier adventurer. Have you ever thought about why that is?”
To be honest, Eze has reflected so many times he’s lost count, but he’s never even seen the Goddess’s face, let alone understood what this “blessing” is supposed to be.
Reflect? How is he supposed to reflect?
“Is it because you’re not loyal enough to the Goddess? Why else would your blessing be the one that’s defective!?”
Liya is fanatically devoted to the so-called Goddess, something Eze scoffs at.
The Goddess? The Supreme Divine Realm?
Nothing but decorations for a lamppost.
All this talk of omnipotence and guiding all things—yet they drag ordinary people into their dirty work.
And the teammates they assigned him?
Not a single normal one among them.
“Besides, you…”
“Enough—”
Eze suddenly raises his voice, cutting off her tirade, then slowly stands, gripping the chair’s armrests, and looks coldly at the young woman before him:
“You’re right, Liya Alfred. I’m not fit to be a hero, and as of now, I’m effectively no longer a hero. So, I quit.”