SSS-Ranked Trash Hero: I Was Scammed Into Being Summoned-Chapter 63: The Slaughter

The footsteps stopped just outside the broken stone doorway.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the heavy, pained breathing of Elias and the low, static-like hum coming from Hiroshi’s shadow body. The dust in the air seemed to hang still, caught between the darkness of the chamber and the faint light growing in the hallway.

Then, they entered.

Aria led the way. Right behind her was Marcus and Kenji. Marcus was wearing a white robes, spotless, contrasting sharply with the soot and blood that stained the room. Kenji was wearing his armour.

Behind them came the heavy clank of metal.

One after another, Royal Knights filed into the chamber. Their silver armor caught what little light was left, creating a sea of metal that quickly filled the back half of the room. There were more than a hundred of them, an entire company of the King’s elite, sent to ensure the job was done.

Kenji stopped ten feet inside. He stared at the thing standing in the center of the room. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white.

"I really hoped it wasn’t true, Hiroshi," Kenji said, his voice echoing off the cracked walls. "But to see you in this condition... it confirms everything. You have fallen to dark magic."

Marcus stepped forward, raising a hand. A soft, golden glow began to radiate from his palm. He closed his eyes for a second, chanting a low prayer. The golden light flared, hitting the shadow tendrils that drifted around Hiroshi. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Where the holy light touched the shadow, there was a sound like cold water hitting a hot stove. The shadows didn’t pull back; they simply absorbed the light and neutralized it.

"The corruption is deep," Marcus said, his voice shaking slightly. "It is not just dark magic. It is an abyss. There is nothing left of the boy we knew. He is a vessel for something ancient and evil."

A heavy silence followed his words. The knights looked at one another. Some looked sad; others looked angry. They had been told they were coming to rescue a hero, or at least bring a traitor to justice. Seeing this monster with Hiroshi’s face was worse than they had imagined.

"Let me handle this," a voice barked from the ranks of the knights.

A tall man stepped forward. He was an Elite Knight, his armor more ornate than the others, decorated with gold engravings. He was nearly level 100, a peak human fighter who had spent decades slaying monsters. He didn’t look sad. He looked like he wanted a trophy.

"He’s barely level 20 according to the scouts," he said, drawing a massive two-handed broadsword. "Shadows or not, level 20 is level 20. I’ll take his head and end this farce."

"Wait!" Marcus called out, but it was too late.

The knight moved. His sword began to shimmer with a bright, intense gold light. It was a high-level skill, a "Heavenly Cleave" meant to split boulders in half. He moved with incredible speed, his boots cracking the floor as he launched himself at Hiroshi.

"Die, traitor!" He shouted.

The golden blade descended in a perfect arc, aimed straight for the center of the shadow mass.

Hiroshi didn’t move his feet. He didn’t raise a weapon. He didn’t even look like he was trying to defend himself. As the golden blade was inches from his face, Hiroshi simply reached out a hand—a hand made of shifting, ink-black smoke—and flicked his fingers forward.

It wasn’t even a punch. It was a faint, lazy movement, like someone brushing away a fly.

The moment the shadow hand made contact with the golden armor, the sound was deafening. It wasn’t the sound of a hit; it was the sound of an explosion.

The knight entire body didn’t just fly back, it disintegrated. The shockwave of the contact turned the plate armor into shrapnel and the man inside into a red mist. There was no body to hit the floor. Only pieces of metal and droplets of blood rained down on the knights standing behind him.

The entire room went dead silent.

The golden light from the holy magic flickered and died. Marcus stood frozen, his hand still raised, his jaw hanging open. His mind was screaming at him. That something was extremely wrong. Hiroshi was level 20. And the knight was level 100. In the history of the world, that gap was impossible to bridge.

But the knight was gone.

"What... what was that?" one of the knights whispered, his voice cracking with terror.

"He didn’t even use a skill," another gasped, dropping his shield.

The panic didn’t start all at once. It started like a leak in a dam. A few knights took a step back. Then a few more. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, as if the shadow body was sucking the oxygen out of the chamber.

Then, Hiroshi moved.

He blurred.

"Get back!" Kenji screamed, grabbing Marcus by the shoulder and throwing him toward the exit.

The three heroes, Aria, Kenji, and Marcus–scrambled toward the rear of the formation. They were powerful, but they were also experienced enough to know when they were looking at death itself. They retreated behind the wall of silver-clad men they had brought as "insurance."

"Shields up! Formation!" the Knight Commander yelled, trying to regain control.

The Royal Knights were well-trained. Despite their fear, they slammed their shields together, creating a wall of steel. They braced their shoulders and held their spears forward, a forest of iron points aimed at the approaching shadow.

Hiroshi hit the line.

It wasn’t a fight; it was a harvest.

He didn’t use a sword. He used himself. He walked into the shields as if they were made of paper. Every time his shadow body touched a knight, that knight was broken. He swung a shadowy arm, and three men were sent flying into the ceiling, their chests caved in before they even hit the stone. He stepped forward, and the ground beneath the knights’ feet exploded upward, throwing the formation into chaos.

The knights fought back bravely. They stabbed with their spears and swung their maces. Their weapons passed through the shadow tendrils as if they were hitting water, doing no damage at all. When they did manage to hit the solid parts of Hiroshi’s body, the metal of their weapons simply shattered.

The chamber filled with the sounds of screaming and the wet thuds of bodies hitting walls. Blood began to slick the floor, making it hard for the remaining knights to keep their footing.

Hiroshi was a battering force. He had no technique, just like Elias had realized. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t parry. He just kept moving forward, and anything in his path ceased to exist.

In the back of the room, near a pile of rubble and away from the main slaughter, Aria pressed her back against the wall. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. She was looking for an opening, a way to use her speed to end this, but there was no opening to be found.

As she scanned the room, her eyes moved past the carnage and toward the far corner, near the collapsed wall section.

She froze.

There, standing in the deep shadows, was a man.

He was leaning against the stone, breathing heavily. He was covered in dust, and his clothes were torn. He held a short blade in his hand, but he wasn’t joining the fight. He was watching the slaughter with a cold, professional detachment that made Aria’s skin crawl.

"Who is this?" she whispered to herself.

The assassin heard her. Even in the chaos of a hundred dying men, his ears picked up her voice. He turned his head slightly. His eyes were tired, but they were sharp. He didn’t look like a hero, and he didn’t look like a traitor. He looked like a man who was calculating exactly how many seconds he had left to live.

Aria raised her sword, pointing it at him. "You... Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Elias looked at her, then looked back at the shadow monster that used to be Hiroshi. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched as Hiroshi tore through another rank of knights, turning a veteran soldier into a heap of broken bones.

"I’m the guild observer," Elias finally said, his voice rasping. "Now, I suggest you stop talking and start thinking about how you’re going to get out of this room. Because your knights aren’t going to last very long."

Aria looked back at the center of the room. The hundred knights were already down to less than sixty. The "insurance" was being spent faster than anyone could have imagined.

Hiroshi stopped for a moment. He stood over a pile of broken shields, his face still blank, his eyes still empty. The shadow tendrils around him grew longer, reaching out like hungry fingers toward the survivors.

The real fight hadn’t even started yet.