“… ah?”

A giant blade seemed to be growing out of Willem’s chest. Its shape looked familiar to him. One of the highest tier ancient holy swords, Seniolis.

— Kutori? No, it can’t be.

Confused thoughts whirling through his head, Willem tried to turn around. His body, however, had stiffened. With painful effort, he managed to turn at least his head around.

“Ah… uh… ah…”

There, he found a face streaked with tears. It was a face he knew well, and also a face he hadn’t been expecting.

“La… kish…?”

“Uah, ah… W-Wil… lem…”

Why is she here? She’s still a little kid… wait, no. That’s wrong. Kids grow up. If you look away for one moment, they change just like that. While Willem had been away, new strength had been growing up one after the other in the fairy warehouse.

“… haha.”

I’m glad, Willem thought. The half broken souls of children who had supported this half broken world up until now. As he thought, they really were strong. Much stronger than him, who had been lost on the road the entire time.

There was no need to worry about the future. Even if he wasn’t with them, even if he couldn’t do anything more for them, they would be fine. He could finally put the final period on this story of a failed Brave, which had continued up until now by repeating meaningless words and passages over and over.

“Not bad. Barely a passing score.” Willem chuckled. Blood poured out from his mouth. “Ahh, but Lakish. For Seniolis’ usage, you’re still short of full points. If you’re gonna go up against an immortal, then properly use this guy as an immortal killer. It’s pretty amazing. I mean, it managed to seal the Visitor Elq Harksten for five hundred years.”

“Eh…?”

“Watch carefully. This is what you do.”

Willem held his palm to the blade. Kaliyons increase their Venom in response to their opponent’s strength. Willem could no longer ignite Venom, but an excess of power flowed through the inside of Seniolis. All that had to be enough to activate Seniolis’ miracle. One by one, he plucked the spell lines running through the interior of the blade. Soft noises filled the air and harmonized together, making it sound as if he were playing a clumsy lullaby on a harp.

As one of the highest tier ancient holy swords, Seniolis was said to be of especially superior quality among the vast number of Kaliyons. As a result, only an extremely limited number of people could wield it. The conditions, when properly written out, would go something like this. One who had no place to call hоme, one who had given up on returning to the place where they longed to return to, one who had completely thrown out his future. Only then could one be qualified to wield Seniolis.

Not just one whose life was fraught with tragedy. Not just one who had conquered tragedy. Not just one who held no hope. Not just one who had thrown away hope. Only one who had a strongly desired future but accepted that such a future would never be obtainable could pick up this blade and reach out to a different future.

The fissures in the large blade widened. Faint light flowed out from the gaps. The personalized Talent of Seniolis, the mightiest Kaliyon in the human world, had revealed itself. That power, the power to bring death to anything and everything, accepted no exceptions, even immortal beings. The faint light gradually weakened, then disappeared.

“Technician…?” Lantolq looked up and murmured softly.

“Willem…?” With no one to bring the Ignareo she held above her head down on, Tiat blankly called his name.

“Uuu… uaaahh…” Lakish simply cried and cried.

Idiots. Willem could no longer use his voice, so he chuckled bitterly in his mind. You guys won. You defeated a dangerous Beast and saved the island. You are heroes. You proved your worth. You secured your future with your own hands.

So be happy. Rejoice. If you guys are just gonna cry, why am I here on the ground about to die? This is all Aiseia’s fault. She spoiled everything, so my plan to become the villain was all ruined.

Ahh, damn it. A failure up until the very end. Why does nothing I try to do ever go well?

— That’s fine, isn’t it? Always desperately trying your best, that’s more like you.

He felt like someone giggled at him. It was a voice he shouldn’t have been able to hear. He knew it had to be a hallucination. But still, he was glad to hear her voice one last time.

He had many words he wanted to say to her. Many feelings he wanted to convey. But he had neither the time nor the composure to do so.

Thank you.

All he could do was utter those mere two words inside his head.

Suddenly, his field of view turned pitch black, as if a curtain had been drawn over it. A floating sensation enveloped him. He felt as if he had begun an eternal fall into an endless abyss. Deeper and deeper he went into a vast darkness.

В кратце - крайне хреновая смерть протагониста (правда он уже был искренне рад уйти), за том до этого крайне хреновая смерть его почти сестры, еще за том до этого крайне хреновая смерть его невесты.
А сама история начинается с того, что он просыпается в мире, где вся его раса выпилена, включая примерно всех.