What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 120 Leisurely Moon

The dim, yellowish light spread like a plague from Baphomet's center, reaching Mirad and Orpheus in their final moments...

Cold metal objects, tearing apart the entire golden kingdom, shot in from the heavens!
The gunman, who had been lying in wait on the hilltop, finally pulled the trigger!
Logan had indeed been waiting.

Wait for the moment when Baphomet is completely absorbed in magic, his defenses are most relaxed, and he has no time to pay attention to external things.

The demonic bullets, engraved with demon-slaying incantations, whistled through the sky, their target unwavering from beginning to end: the location of the golden magic circle... which was also the still frantically beating heart of that demon!

The sudden attack disrupted Baphomet's rhythm.

Its power is used to maintain that vast illusion, called "The Magnificent Illusion," which is so realistic that it is almost indistinguishable from reality and is built on impressions and desires!

Although in the last moment before falling into the illusion, the sorcerer raised the intensity of the curse to the limit, the hero of the sea god summoned a shield of water, the hero of the war god threw his axe blade, and the most hated golden-haired hero of the main god unleashed an unstoppable sword light... as long as they all fell into the illusion, that would be their victory!

Baphomet therefore lacked the power to use his Midas touch to turn that small copper bullet into harmless Fool's Gold.

And so it could only watch helplessly as the death star crashed into its chest.

...How the hell is there another one?!

Baphomet stared in horror in the direction from which the projectile had come. The magical power had been so weak that Baphomet himself had unknowingly overlooked the fifth person on the hill.

The magic array that was supposed to give the virtual gold to the prisoners was shattered by this attack!
The prisoners, whose bodies had been partially transformed into golden liquid, returned to their mortal flesh and blood when the magic array shattered.

The fatal wound could no longer be ignored by their insatiable greed; the excruciating pain and the cold reality returned to their senses like a tidal wave.

The frenzied army of thousands was now shrouded in death and fear. One second they were prisoners laughing and joking, the next they were mortals bleeding profusely, lifeless and collapsed to the ground.

Corpses piled up like mountains, and blood flowed like rivers.

No, it's okay... Although we failed this time, those four guys were successfully dragged into the illusion... As long as we turn around and leave now, we can save our lives and settle the score later after we've recovered!

Baphomet's chest was now being eroded by the magic of the exorcism spell. This kind of magic was meant to conceptually annihilate the existence of demons, and it still had an effect on them, who were high-level demons. Fortunately, the magic circle blocked some of the magic power.

It can still live; it still has a chance to survive...

but.

In Baphomet's desperate eyes.

On the distant hills, in Logan's bloodshot eyes.

Amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, the gaze of a prisoner on his last breath gradually fades.

Mirad opened his eyes.

In the fierce wind that swept across the hills like a banshee wailing, that dazzling golden hair was blown about, like a ball of golden fire.

The dazzling swordsman raised his holy sword high, its blazing light piercing through the dark clouds and the blood moon.

"Baphomet, the one who spreads madness... I will cut off your head, skin you, and burn your body, so that you will not be able to escape this heart-wrenching sin in your next life!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a flash of sword light appeared.

Before Baphomet could even react, he felt a chill on his neck.

Its head was plucked off by the sword light.

There was no pain, not even a feeling. Its head, still contorted with horror and disgust, flew into the air. From its perspective, it could see its own headless sheep body, still convulsing, and the swordsman, as indifferent as an executioner.

The second sword light followed closely behind.

The searing pain erupted like a volcano! This agony was far worse than the curse of the sorcerer "Crown of Thorns," and even surpassed its imagination of death.

The holy flames attached to the sword light ignited its flesh and blood the moment they touched its body, burning away its sins!

It seemed to hear the dying cries of the thousands of prisoners and guards, and feel their pain, hidden by greed, as they were corrupted by the illusory gold and slaughtered each other! The despair of those lowly lives that it had manipulated was being returned to it a hundredfold, a thousandfold!

But the swordsman still didn't stop.

The third sword. The fourth sword. The fifth sword...

The sword light flashed like rain, endless and continuous. Each slash precisely peeled away its skin and tore its flesh apart.

Even though the head and body are separated, you can still feel the pain.

So it screamed, but couldn't make a sound.

Until the mind breaks down, until death comes, until the body perishes.

The False King's Demon Realm Mad Gold Feast Fantasy Drama... Collapses.

A drama of greed, power, and fleeting glory... curtain falls.

That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few, and the clouds did not obscure the jade-like moon.

The celebration banquet had been going on for several hours, and the noise gradually faded away like the receding tide, leaving only the mixed smell of wine and barbecue on my body.

Despite his best efforts, Mirand could not escape the clutches of Bishop Patrice and was forced to drink several bottles of wine.

He wasn't good at drinking, and a few bottles of diluted liquor were enough to bring a faint blush to Mirad's usually calm and composed face.

Orpheus… Oh, that girl left the banquet at the very beginning to go back to her room to rest… The wound on her neck seemed to heal at an extremely fast pace, but the depletion of her magic was real; magic is truly wondrous.

If it's not Orpheus, then who am I supposed to be looking for now...?

Mirad covered his forehead; the alcohol, like a warm mist, blurred his thoughts. His pathetic posture of taking three steps forward and two steps back was truly comical. If his idolizing soldiers saw him, the image of the hero as someone who couldn't drink would probably spread far and wide.

He came into Logan's view.

And so, the gunslinger, who was leaning against the edge of the roof, idly gazing at the moon, trying to savor a trace of homesickness in its unfamiliar glow, couldn't help but chuckle. Homesickness, really, wasn't really the thing. The moon here was vastly different from the azure moon Logan remembered; he was just here simply… not really wanting to drink.

He called out to Mirand and patted the spot next to him. The slightly drunk blond swordsman looked up at the sound, gave a somewhat silly smile, and lightly leaped up, silently landing next to Logan.

"Dude, how much did you drink to get this drunk? Don't throw up on me and make me clean up after you."

Logan nudged Mirad beside him with his shoulder. The hero, who was usually motionless, was now swaying from the impact. Luckily, he caught her in time, preventing the greatest contributor to the victory over Baphomet from falling off the roof headfirst.

"Wow... I thought heroes were all heavy drinkers who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk. Are you really that bad?"

"Perhaps... Bacchus, the god of wine, doesn't like me very much, so He's trying so hard to get me drunk so I can experience the wonders of wine..."

Mirad suddenly remembered something amusing and looked at his friend with short, gray hair beside him. "Logan, you know what? Bishop Patrice just did a few squats while holding His Majesty the King up, and several soldiers almost burst out laughing... Hahaha..."

“I think you really need to enjoy yourself a bit. Being on edge all the time, like you're about to be hanged, isn't a good thing.” Logan draped his elbow over Mirard's shoulder, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. “Why aren't you going to find your princess? Coming to me instead? Sigh, did you get dumped after confessing your feelings? I knew it, you only realize how good I am after being dumped by a woman…”

"I saw you in that Baphomet's illusion."

Mirad recalled the gray-haired swordsman who stood up from under the shade of the tree and greeted him. "I knew at a glance that this was definitely an illusion! The monster's magic must have been based on impressions rather than memories, which is why it had such a big flaw, so that I could see through it at a glance."

"Heh heh, I never expected I'd have this kind of use. Hey buddy, what did you see me doing in the illusion? Killing a dozen dragons with one punch?"

"Haha... I saw that you were a man in the illusion, and I immediately realized something was wrong. How could you be a man?"

Mirand gave a dazed smile, and the androgynous girl sitting beside him laughed along. Her laughter was clear and carried far into the night, but as she laughed, Logan realized something, and her laughter abruptly stopped.

"You just said that illusions are created based on impressions?"

"Ah, um? What's wrong?" Mirad was still slightly tipsy from the alcohol and didn't notice the change in her tone.

"……nothing."

Logan rolled her eyes. She wanted to say "Damn it," but instead said, "Dude, I never thought you, with your thick eyebrows and big eyes, blond-haired blockhead, would only see me as a guy. Me, a beautiful high school girl with big breasts, a slim waist, long legs, and a great figure, can't you even remember me as a 'good buddy'?" ...Well, what else could I say?

She felt a mix of wanting to cry and wanting to laugh.

“Oh, Mirand, I ask you,”

Logan puffed out his chest, and his form-fitting leather armor was instantly stretched into a full moon-like arc.

The moonlight shone on her gray hair, giving it a soft, mercury-like glow.
"Am I big-breasted?"

"...It's quite big."

After racking his brains for a while, Mirad had to honestly admit that his friend's figure did indeed seem to be... the most shapely among all the female friends he knew.

"Am I pretty?" Logan pointed to his face.

"...It looks pretty good."

Mirand squinted his drunken eyes, sizing up the girl beside him. He still remembered that day on the beach, when she was covered in dust and looked like she was about to die. He never expected that after cleaning up and dressing up, she would have a delicate beauty that was somewhere between a boy and a girl.

"So you still think of me as a man? Holy crap, buddy, am I that masculine? ...This is really hurting my self-esteem."

"But I can't kill that monster without you."

Mirand gave Logan a thumbs up, his expression more serious than ever before.

If Baphomet's hallucinations weren't based on impressions, and if his impression of Logan hadn't always been that of a close friend like a brother, resulting in a male hallucination that conflicted with the fact that "Logan was a woman" in his memory, he might not have been able to break free from that hallucination.

"Well, brothers are brothers, brothers are better than strangers... You called me here just to talk about this?"

She looked up at Lonely Moon again. "You could have killed it without me, right? It would just have taken a little longer..."

"That would only allow it to cause more damage. Don't underestimate yourself... you really are important."

Milad remained serious.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't handle the praise, but his close friend's face also flushed, making him look as if he had been drinking.

Mirad added, "Besides, the moon is beautiful tonight. I was thinking that you always feel homesick when you see a full moon, so I wanted to come and keep you company. When you have someone to talk to and someone to be with, you won't feel so... homesick, right?"

Logan coughed violently, his eyes filled with disbelief. "Holy crap, for a second I thought you, with your blockheaded, saintly nature, had finally come to your senses... You can't just say things like 'the moon is beautiful' where we're from, you know? There's a taboo about it."

"I remember."

Mirad nodded solemnly. "Is it because your star god is jealous of the moon goddess's beauty?"

"No, uh... just take that as... um... never mind, let's not talk about this..."

Logan turned around and looked at the young man whose cheeks were rosy but whose eyes were still clear.

"Seriously, when are you going to stop calling me Logan... I've taught you so many times that's not how you pronounce my name. You've led everyone astray."

"sorry."

Mirad hung his head, realizing he had never quite gotten used to pronouncing his foreign friend's name... It was quite rude of him, but thankfully the girl in front of him had never actually gotten angry about it.

"Come on, look at my mouth and repeat after me."

He looked at the girl's lips, her rosy lips slightly pouting, looking somewhat like berries that had just been touched by dew at the banquet.

"Luo-gan-"

"Logan"

"One more time! Don't curl your tongue!"

“...Logan?”

After drinking, his tongue was really hard to control. Mirand looked at the girl apologetically, and sure enough, she curled her lip and gave him the middle finger.

Luo Geng seemed to have thought of a good idea and grinned mischievously, "How about this, you put your hand on my face and feel the vibration of my mouth cavity. That shouldn't be too difficult for you, right? If all else fails, you can only stick your finger into my mouth to experience the position of my tongue firsthand, okay?"

Mirad did as he was told and cupped the girl's face in his hands. The texture of her skin was far more delicate than he had imagined. His gaze was intense, fixed intently on her lips.

His vision was hard to focus after drinking, so he frowned and tried to observe her trembling lips and tongue, but he didn't notice that the girl's cheeks were now redder than his, her breathing was erratic, and he couldn't feel the heat coming from her.

"Go ahead and say it, I'm watching."

"...Lysimachia".

"Luo Ran. Am I right?"

"That's right."

"Rogeria".

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"Rogeria".

"Alright bro! I already know you can pronounce my name, so you don't need to say it so many times with such deep emotion. Damn, I can't take it anymore."

The two looked at each other in silence, then simultaneously grinned.

Shoulders gently bumped against each other, and the laughter of the boy and girl mingled together, melting away in the moonlight.

(End of this chapter)