The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live A Normal Life [EN]: Chapter 234

Sanchez’s eyes twitched, staring at the scene before him. Morales’s defeat. The words echoed in his mind, a cold shock he couldn’t quite absorb. It was utterly unexpected. He simply couldn’t believe it. His master, Morales, the warrior he revered above all others, had been defeated by Roman Dmitry, a fighter younger than himself.

But he had seen it. He had watched with his own eyes as Roman Dmitry controlled the fight from the start. He had seen Morales fight back with desperate courage, a true warrior to the very end, even in defeat.

Crimson blood bloomed on the sand, staining the ground around Morales. The sight of it, the stark red against the arena dust, drove home the terrible truth: Morales was dead. Suddenly, Sanchez remembered his own harsh words to Roman Dmitry, spoken before the fight.

“You don’t know the value of that position,” Sanchez had said. “There are many warriors in Valhalla who would give their lives if they could just stand on that stage. Tell me, do you think you are qualified to face Barbosa in place of Morales?”

At that time, Sanchez believed his thoughts were correct.

It wasn’t that he denied Roman Dmitry’s achievements, but he didn’t think he was ready to face the top-ranked fighters.

He wondered how silly his words must have seemed to Roman Dmitry now.

“Master…”

He looked at Morales and a wave of emotion washed over him.

He wanted to shout in anger at Morales’s death, but then he remembered Morales’s face at the end – he had looked truly happy.

Recently, Morales had been saying the same thing repeatedly.

The Valhalla Empire was heading in the wrong direction, and people who had lost the true value of warriors were seizing power, he’d said.

Morales had said that fighters who loved true competition were losing out.

People who just wanted power and fame were taking over. Real warriors, who risked everything in fights, were dying alone and forgotten, without getting any rewards for their hard work.

It was a country that had lost its heart.

The values that Valhalla pursued had become corrupted, and that was why Morales wanted to fight Barbosa.

“Sanchez, I may die in the fight against Barbosa,” Morales had said. “No, the chances of me winning are very slim. But there is a reason why I must fight him. For the people of Valhalla, for the warriors of Valhalla. I want them to see me fight and to realize, even a little, the romance of the past. To remember what kind of country Valhalla was, that it was not a country that used power to oppress the weak.”

He risked his life.

He, who had said he would die for a meaningful cause, showed the same look in his eyes during the fight with Roman Dmitry.

So, he knew that Morales would die during the fight.

In order for Roman Dmitry to truly gain the recognition of the people and ascend to the stage, he needed a sacrifice for his fame.

Morales… At that moment, he was prepared to die.

He sacrificed himself, using his own fading strength to make Roman Dmitry’s victory even brighter.

So, he gritted his teeth and held back his tears.

Because he knew Morales’s intentions.

Roman Dmitry was a truly skilled warrior who deserved respect.

‘I understand your intentions, Master,’ Sanchez thought. ‘But you are being too irresponsible. If you leave like that for the sake of a greater cause, what are we, who live only looking at you, supposed to do? Even though he understood the warrior values Morales believed in… I hate you, Master. As much as I find it hard to accept your honorable death as a warrior, I will not let your death be in vain.’

Before the fight, Morales had left one thing to say.

If he were to die, he told Sanchez to check his ‘will’ left in his chambers.

It was then that the chanting started.

“Ro… man, Ro… man!”

“Roman, Roman, Roman!”

The people… The people of Valhalla… The chanting started like a spark, then grew like wildfire, spreading through the crowd: ‘Roman! Roman! Roman!’

Morales’s defeat shocked the people watching.

They couldn’t forget Morales’s words.

“…Could Morales’s words really be true?”

“If the Valhalla Imperial Family brought in Roman Dmitry for personal revenge… this is really wrong. The festival for warriors is a place for the souls of the warriors who have died, and it shouldn’t be tainted for such a reason.”

“Morales had said that even honorable deaths meant nothing if Valhalla was becoming corrupt. He’d said the spirits of dead warriors wouldn’t rest if they saw what Valhalla had become.”

It was miserable, the truth of Valhalla.

Roman Dmitry, on the contrary, seemed more suited to Valhalla than even the people of Valhalla themselves.

He had come to Valhalla openly, with courage.

When people looked at him with prejudiced eyes, he accepted the warriors’ challenges, even knowing that he could suffer injuries.

He was everything a warrior should be.

Many people had died at the hands of Roman Dmitry, but people thought that this series of events was proving the meaning of Valhalla’s existence.

Morales was dead.

He was an existence that showed what a true warrior was in a world that was losing its heart.

People did not grieve.

It was a happy occasion.

A warrior dying as a warrior.

Dying in battle against a worthy opponent, returning to the earth.

Knowing that it was the honorable death everyone desired, they did not want to taint the warrior’s death with tears.

It was from then on that one person, without even realizing it, shouted Roman Dmitry’s name.

“Ro… man, Ro… man!”

Standing tall as the victor, Roman Dmitry looked every inch the warrior Valhalla needed. The crowd began to understand.

“Roman! Roman! Roman!”

The name ‘Roman Dmitry’ rippled through the crowd, growing louder and louder, like a fever taking hold.

People recognized Roman Dmitry.

Roman Dmitry, who had defeated Morales, was a person from another country, but he was a presence that suited the festival stage.

They abandoned their prejudices.

If he was strong and if he knew the value of a warrior, his origin did not matter at all.

Valhalla had changed. Now, some people were judged by their race, not just their skill. But it wasn’t always like this. Valhalla was once famous for valuing warriors above all else. They even created the warrior ranking system that spread across the land.

The fight between Morales and Roman Dmitry reminded people of these forgotten values.

With the burning desire, the voices calling out Roman Dmitry grew louder and louder, just like Morales said.

Roman Dmitry opened his eyes wide. He looked around at the scene. This was Valhalla, a place warriors called home.

He would not look away. He wanted to see the end of the duel between Barbossa and Roman Dmitry, so the spirits of past warriors would not look down on him with shame.

The crowd cheered wildly. They shouted and clapped, their faces full of excitement.

Roman Dmitry stood in the middle of it all, the cheers washing over him. He knew they were cheering for Morales’ bravery too. By accepting their cheers, Roman Dmitry showed respect for the warrior who had fallen.

Valhalla was in shock. News of Morales’ death spread quickly. Even as the news reached Marin, far away, leaders in Valhalla were already talking about it. In the main hall of Valhalla’s government, a conversation began.

“It’s true,” Baron Jonathan said, his voice low. “Morales lost. Roman Dmitry defeated him in a duel.”

Jonathan stood before Marquis Belphir, one of the most powerful men in Valhalla. Belphir smiled slowly as he heard the news.

“Interesting,” Belphir said. “Very interesting. I knew Roman Dmitry was brave to accept our challenge. But I thought he just wanted to face Barbossa. I didn’t expect him to be strong enough to beat Morales. I tried to be ready for anything, but this… this is a surprise.”

Roman Dmitry. He was aggressive, Belphir thought.

He didn’t think he would try to resolve the dispute with Valhalla in Valhalla’s own way.

Baron Jonathan said.

“If you want,” Jonathan said, “I can make sure Roman Dmitry is not at his best when he fights Barbossa.”

“No,” Belphir replied. “We don’t need to do that.”

Morales… Belphir thought about the dead warrior. Morales had always been a problem. He always spoke out against those in power, saying things they didn’t want to hear.

“Why did Morales fight Roman Dmitry and die?” Belphir continued. “He could have stayed quiet. But Morales took a risk. He challenged Roman Dmitry and accepted death. It was a trick to make sure no one could cheat and stop the duel between Roman Dmitry and Barbossa. The people saw how strong Roman Dmitry is. If he looks weaker later, they will suspect something is wrong.”

Public opinion was very strong.

Usually, Belphir would have stopped people from speaking out.

But now, he knew it was too dangerous to anger the people. They were already very upset.

Valhalla had changed. It was still a country of warriors, but it wasn’t the same as before. Now, politics was just as important as fighting when making decisions.

Marquis Belphir, who was looking out the window with a relaxed expression, recalled a past event that he had buried in the back of his mind.

“Baron Jonathan. How much do you know about Barbossa?”

“Well, isn’t he a member of the Continental Twelve Swords representing Valhalla?”

“Yes, that’s what most people know. But Barbossa’s real weapon is not the sword he wields.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Barbossa and Morales. Their ill-fated relationship. The person who cheated in their first duel was not Barbossa’s background, but Barbossa himself.

“Barbossa is very clever,” Belphir explained. “Even if he’s sure he will win, he will do anything to make sure he *cannot* lose. Let Barbossa handle the duel with Roman Dmitry. He will find ways to make sure he wins, without anyone noticing.”

Belphir thought about Morales’ duel with Barbossa in the past. Morales had lost. He had taken responsibility, but he always believed he could have won if he had been healthier.

But was that true?

Belphir doubted it.

Barbossa would have beaten Morales then, and he would beat him now. Even when sure of victory, Barbossa always found ways to weaken his opponent secretly.

In the rapidly changing Valhalla, Barbossa was a powerful figure representing the current Valhalla.

Marquis Belphir laughed.

Roman Dmitry. No matter how hard he struggles, he will not be able to return alive.

It was a long day. The duel that had taken place since early morning ended with the death of Morales.

No one expressed their intention to challenge.

If Roman Dmitry had defeated Morales, who was originally supposed to be on the festival stage, there was no need for him to be verified any further.

That evening, Sanchez sought out Roman Dmitry.

His face was more haggard than before, and he bowed his head as soon as he met him.

“I am so sorry,” Sanchez said, bowing his head deeply. “I insulted you, Roman Dmitry, and I was wrong. I knew it was wrong to judge people from other countries, but I still did it. I couldn’t accept someone from outside Valhalla on our stage. But now, after seeing your duel, I respect you. I respect your courage to come here, knowing what Valhalla wanted.”

There was no hostility.

Morales’ death and Roman Dmitry were separate matters. The people of Valhalla did not blame the other person for death in a duel.

Roman Dmitry said.

“I will omit the past. With the duel with Morales as the end, I have no feelings for you.”

“Thank you.”

When the duel was over, he buried his past feelings along with the corpse.

In a way that respected Valhalla, Sanchez showed a determined look in his eyes.

“I came because of my teacher, Morales,” Sanchez continued. “His last wish was for me to talk to you. He saw you as a true warrior. That’s why he accepted death – to show the people of Valhalla the truth and to cheer for you on stage.”

The duel was over. He returned to his residence.

While reading the will that Morales had left in preparation for the worst-case scenario, Sanchez could not hide his bewildered feelings.

Inside the will, it was shocking content.

Morales wanted Roman Dmitry to know the truth, even if his death became meaningless.

“In his will,” Sanchez said, his voice serious, “Morales warned you about the duel with Barbossa. He said Valhalla’s plan is not just to have you fight Barbossa. Even if you win, your life is still in danger.”

After reading the entire will, Sanchez sighed.

Valhalla had fallen. Even if a single individual raised his voice, it was not enough to change the country, as some parts had rotted away.

The foundation of the country had rotted from the root.

Morales knew this fact and risked his life for one of the two options.

“Bringing Roman Dmitry to the festival. That is the part that Cronos Empire influenced. My teacher told me through his will that some powerful people in Valhalla colluded with Cronos. So, if you want to survive, leave Valhalla right now. I will help you with that. If you go on stage for the duel with Barbossa, the injured Roman Dmitry will never be able to return to Dmitry alive.”

Sanchez’s voice shook with anger.

This was the terrible truth.