My consciousness... was foggy.
When I tried to open my eyes, the light pierced my pupils.
Not like a golden, warm, shallow peace—but suffocating and artificial.
My first breath was as heavy as a stone lodged in my lungs.
"He's waking up...!"
A voice echoed. The sound of cold armor... not warm hands.
When my eyelids finally parted, I realized I was in a high-ceilinged chamber.
Sunlight seeped through thick crimson curtains, casting a blood-like glow across the floor.
Beside me, a priest murmured prayers with a cheap imitation of reverence.
The door opened.
From outside—cheering, shouting, drums.
"The Hero has awakened!"
"Glory to the Chosen of Light!"
"Executioner of the traitorous goblins!"
That word.
"Executioner."
It echoed inside me like a cold fracture.
I struggled to rise from the bed. My clothes had been changed. A white tunic. A golden-embroidered belt around my waist.
I had been sanctified—without my consent.
As the doors opened, the sunlight from outside stung my eyes.
I was paraded through crowded streets.
People threw flowers, prostrated themselves, trampled over one another just to touch my hands.
But there was no love in their eyes... only possession.
They did not worship me, but the power upon me.
In a corner, a dwarf was kicked to the ground by a guard.
An elven woman had her hair pulled—she was crying.
The crowd only laughed.
"Slaves to serve our hero!"
They cheered, and cheered.
Is this the world worth saving?
And at that moment... I understood.
I wasn't a hero.
I was a sacred commodity in a golden cage.
I was summoned to the throne again.
This time, the throne room felt different. Less extravagant.
The King sat loosely on his seat, flanked by three others:
An old mage, a woman knight clad in armor, and an advisor squinting his eyes at me.
I was being examined. Monitored.
"We've analyzed the magical residue from the last battle," said the mage, fingers interlocked.
"This power... it's not yours. But it passed through your body. Interesting."
A table was set up.
Atop it was a glowing device of interwoven rings.
"Place your hand," the king said. "Let the Light judge you."
I hesitated. But I had no choice. I placed my hand on it.
The device trembled, then shot a beam into the sky.
A voice echoed like a divine whisper:
"Secondary Trait: Replication."
"When exposed to a direct magical attack, the subject can learn to produce that element. However, usage may be unstable until adapted."
Silence filled the hall.
The king bowed his head, then smiled.
"You are more than we expected.
Your presence here is a blessing from the gods, child."
No applause came.
But the eyes… the eyes were devouring me.
"It seems your gift is to steal the gift of others,"
Queen Lyra's voice echoed from behind. I had heard much about her, but only now realized she was an elf.
"A hero with a thief's power... That won't sit well with many."
"Yes, but no one needs to know,"
King Thane muttered, eyes filled with schemes.
"With this replication ability, we can teach him every spell in our arsenal."
"And of course," the King added, snapping his fingers, "such a hero should not be alone."
The doors opened.
Three girls entered. Each wore a card with her name.
A red-haired mage—Elara, her youthful and eager aura was impossible to miss.
A golden-armored holy warrior—Seraphina, regal with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
And a shy, graceful elf—Miyu, striking with strands of green and blue within snowy white hair.
"They've been prepared for you. I hope they meet your tastes."
I stammered.
"Is this... a harem? I—I don't want a harem."
The air tensed.
The King lowered his head. There was barely-concealed malice in his eyes.
"This isn't a matter of preference," he said.
"It's political balance. The people exalt you. We must give them something to behold."
I looked at Miyu. Her head remained lowered.
Seraphina stood firm, but there was a coldness in her eyes.
Elara… smiled. But that smile was a wall.
These are not toys. These are people.
But here, everyone is a decoration.
And non-humans... are treated like trash.
"You can do anything you wish with them," King Thane said, his face curling into a grotesque grin.
"They long to be yours. Think of them as a gift from our kingdom.
Being a hero has its perks, doesn't it? You've seen with your own eyes—everyone worships you like a prophet.
And if these girls aren't enough, just name who else you want."
What did that even mean?
These people idolized me without me doing a single thing?
These girls accepted being with someone they'd never even spoken to?
Everything was so absurd, it was starting to feel normal.
"Is this really necessary? After what happened today, I'd prefer some time alone..."
With the seal on my chest, openly opposing them seemed foolish.
Maybe, if I just complied for now, it would cause less trouble.
"Don't worry, child," the King said.
"Having such lovely girls around will help ease your trauma."
His smile only grew more nauseating.
"We'll send the girls to your quarters while you're away. They'll settle in and make it comfortable for you."
"Away? What do you mean?"
"There's no time to rest.
You'll be sent to General Kaelenus—one of our kingdom's most disciplined and powerful soldiers.
You need to train under him, learn control over your replication magic."
I suppose I had no choice.
Learning magic was crucial, even for me.
Thane had promised: if I defeated the Demon King, I could return home.
"I see... What kind of person is this General Kaelenus? It might help to know before I meet him."
"HaHaHa! Trust me, child.
Even if I told you, nothing could prepare you for that man."
I didn't understand what the King meant. But I left.
That evening, a soldier came to escort me to the back of the castle.
I was made to kneel on the bare stone ground.
My "harem" had been moved into my room.
We would be living together now.
Before me, a massive figure emerged—Commander Kaelenus.
"You're Caelum?"
"Yes."
"So you're the so-called hero everyone's raving about."
"I've seen rookies like you cry before. You better brace yourself."
He squinted and leaned closer.
"Once this training begins... you won't even have the strength left to pray.
This isn't 'the path of light'—it's the path of breaking."
"I'm going to show you hell, little rookie."
Then his voice dropped to a cold whisper.
"And remember...
No matter how strong you become, it's us who polish you.
If you refuse to be the lapdog of the throne… the blessing of light won't be enough.
We will bury you regardless."
He wasn't bluffing.
His body was covered in burn marks, one eye blind, clearly a sadistic veteran.
Though in his 40s, he was massive and battle-hardened.
He glanced into the distance—and suddenly whistled.
In an instant, the area was surrounded by hooded mages.
Each pointed their staff at me, preparing to fire.
Commander Kaelenus gave me a twisted grin.
"I hear you can absorb and replicate attack magic."
His smile turned cruel and mocking.
"Let's see how much you can absorb in a single round."
The mages awaited the command.
It didn't take long to come.
And in that moment... I realized:
There would be no more sunny days in my life.