Prologue

Do you know what the most important ability for a soldier is? It’s being able to run. Moving is crucial when fighting. Pretty much any battle hinges on your forces being in the right place at the right time. And being a prince isn’t a privilege just anyone has. Having carriages at your beck and call to carry you to where you have to be is quite uncommon. Even the strongest warriors need to make it to the battlefield to be any help. And in order to do that they must be able to run on their own two feet.

“Not long now,” said Kuviltal, my second-in-command, peeking through a gap in the wall.

The eight demons serving under me ran on the paved road, sheltered by walls of stone, armor clanking noisily. We were in a semicircle-shaped trench carved around our target, the capital Evaloti. The trench was sturdy from both a magical and physical perspective, allowing us to maneuver without fear of snipers. A trench of this caliber would require a human army to have hundreds of people working for weeks. But for us, it had only taken a few dozen members of the Corvut family merely a few days. Such a feat had been all thanks to the Stoneshaping Curse, Concreta. I was starting to get sick of the magically powerful races.

With the Corvut family’s efforts, all of the Alliance fortresses that hadn’t extended their defenses underground had become obsolete.

“Even the mightiest of walls fall if the ground beneath them gives way,” Ante said with a chuckle.

She was exactly right. The rise of the demonic kingdom two hundred years ago had been followed by the fall of countless fortresses.

Swallowing those bitter feelings, I turned a question on Kuviltal. “Any sight of the target yet?”

“Yes, sir. The fourth fortress,” he replied, continuing to run mechanically.

Our squad’s objective was the fourth fortress. Since we had no idea what its real name was, all we could do was slap a number on it. Surrounding Evaloti were six fortresses which, should an emergency arise, would work in concert to defend the city. That was the plan, at least. We weren’t so sure they’d be able to handle a simultaneous assault on all fronts.

The fortresses we had numbered one through three stood on the western side of the capital, facing the demon camp. Assuming we’d attack the city from there, most of the Alliance forces had gathered in those three. So, naturally, the bulk of the demonic army was in position to fight them once things kicked off.

What? Why wouldn’t we focus our attack on their weakened rear? Of course we wouldn’t. They were just humans. Using such tactics against a weak enemy would be a blemish on the demons’ honor. Apparently that was how they thought. It was a perfect plan, beautifully encapsulating the pride and muscle-brained nature of demons.

I’d have been all for it if the demons were the ones putting their lives on the line from the get-go...but in actuality, the beastfolk, devils, and goblins had been sent ahead of time to wear down the defenders. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the rank and file whose lives were being discarded like nothing...okay, except for the goblins. Letting them all die made me pretty happy.

As for me, my princely status didn’t take away the fact I was still a baby when it came to the battlefield. This meant I had been relegated to a relatively minor position. As such, I had been sent to deal with one of the rear fortresses, where defenses were expected to be weaker.

“That’s the fortress, Your Highness.” Kuviltal came to a halt, pointing at one of the buildings. Just looking at him you wouldn’t think we had been running full tilt; he hadn’t broken a sweat. Quite the contrast to the three idiots behind us with waterfalls pouring from them.

“That one, huh?” Cycling through a number of feelings, I settled on being unimpressed as I looked up at the structure. It was a stone fortress, cloaked in a barrier of light that looked like an aurora. The assault by the beastfolk and devil vanguard was already underway. “No point wasting time looking at it. Let’s go!”

Drawing my magic out, I fused the bones I carried with my old holy sword, forming my swordspear. Here and there, I could see human bodies being thrown from the top of the walls.

I couldn’t allow it. It was too much of a waste!

“Those belong to me.”

If they were fated to be cut down by the demonic army, it should have been by my hand, fueling my power.

Kuviltal grinned at my frustrated muttering, as if he found it encouraging. “Then let us get moving, Your Highness. Though we tried to use our training sessions to scare you, there’s plenty of pleasure to be had on the battlefield.” Kuviltal and his men laughed. The bastards.

But of course. No doubt they had a blast preying on people much weaker than themselves!

“I can hardly wait.” Matching their laughs, I flashed a ferocious grin of my own. There was no point in hiding it any longer.

“My name is Zilbagias Rage!” I felt the sensation of my body swelling to many times its size. “The bringer of demise to all my foes!”

Alba and the others almost stumbled back, overpowered by my magic.

“That’s the spirit. Now, Your Highness! Welcome to the battlefield!” Kuviltal declared.

“Welcome?”

I couldn’t help but give a bitter smile at that. Unfortunately, this was actually “welcome back.”

Surrounded by the grating laughter of demons, I stepped out of the formation, moving ahead of everyone. Ah, it was so nostalgically frustrating. A battle between humans and demons.

So anyway, it’s me again, the hero Alexander turned Seventh Demon Prince Zilbagias. In order to take down the Demon King and his demonic kingdom...here I was, destroying a human nation.

Chapter 1: Hell’s Cauldron

“They’re on the move.”

In the prayer room of Fort Sikind, the westernmost of the fortresses defending Evaloti, a forest elf mage’s ears started to twitch. She heard the distant rumbling of thousands of footfalls. The demonic army had finally begun its attack.

The mage took a long, deep breath. It was less a sigh of grief and more an attempt at cooling the burning desire in her heart to fight. She had the usual dark tan of a forest elf. However, likely due to stress, she had sunken cheeks and dark circles under her eyes—not to mention the fact that she moved sluggishly. Beneath her healthy complexion was a melancholic spirit. Her indigo eyes opened, as if freeing the inferno that was her hatred and anger for the denizens of the dark.

That forest elf’s name was Heleina. Though she was not even a hundred years old, still quite young for a forest elf, she had been born into a bloodline of high elves. As such, she had already achieved status as a high-ranked mage among the forest elves.

“Heleina,” another elf, deep wrinkles clearly present around his eyes, spoke softly. “Don’t get so worked up. You need to relax.”

“Come on, gramps!” Heleina immediately snapped at the older elf. “You expect me to relax in a situation like this?! I’ve finally, finally made it to the front lines! I can finally”—Heleina struggled to squeeze out her next words—“get revenge for Liliana!”

There was a young high elf saint known as Liliana El Del Milfrul, princess of the forest elves. Not only was she Heleina’s childhood friend, but they had been raised like sisters. Though Heleina was actually a bit younger, Liliana aged at a slower rate since she was a high elf. That coupled with her airy personality had led Heleina to take up an older sister role, looking after Liliana.

And yet Liliana had been sent to the battlefield first. Her power as a saint had been deemed necessary on the front lines. The queen had other sons and daughters besides Liliana, but mature high elves could not stray far from the Sacred Tree, the source of power for all forest elves. So Liliana, having inherited high elf blood more potent than her siblings’ while still being young enough to leave the Sacred Tree, had been sent to battle.

Her arrival at the front lines had made an incredible difference. The crumbling Alliance forces had been stabilized, and the demons’ advance had slowed considerably. But all it did was slow, not fully stop. Unable to halt their advance, Liliana had continued to throw herself into brutal conflict after brutal conflict. All the while Heleina had been held back due to her family’s unwillingness to risk losing their only daughter. If such a thing were to happen, it would mean the end of their bloodline.

“She joined that assault on the Demon King’s castle...and she never returned...!”

The regret overwhelmed her. Just before the assault, Heleina had been able to tell Liliana felt cornered, but she had been unable to do anything for her. If only she had been allowed to fight earlier. If only she could have gone with her. In the years since the assault on the Demon King’s castle, Heleina had lived perpetually tormented by her own guilt. What kind of friend was she? What kind of sister was she? When Liliana had needed her most, she wasn’t there by her side.

But just the other day, Heleina had finally been blessed with a younger brother. With the fear and weight of her family’s bloodline ceasing to exist off her shoulders, she was finally able to participate in the fighting. She was finally able to get revenge for Liliana.

“No matter how many demons, no matter how many individuals of the night I kill, it won’t be enough. I’ll show them all...!” In the corners of her eyes, tears started to well up as a bloodthirsty expression crept onto her face.

“I understand how you feel. Painfully so.” The old elf gently knocked on the top of her head. “But...I’ll repeat myself. Don’t get too worked up, Heleina.” His voice was solid as a stone.

“Gramps...” Heleina gulped. The old elf had the calmness and composure of a great tree, his blue eyes as icy as spring water in the heart of winter.

“She was like my own great-granddaughter. So I share your feelings.”

She called the old elf “gramps” since he had looked after and played with Heleina and Liliana since they were young. The two had grown close enough to him that he might as well have been their great-grandfather.

“Your hatred is understandable, but you cannot let it consume you. High elf blood flows through your body. If nothing happens to you, you could easily live another seven centuries.” Though the old elf spoke matter-of-factly, the human priests and soldiers couldn’t help but make strained expressions. The long-lived races. That name was hard for them to swallow.

Ordinary forest elves could expect to live well past five hundred years. High elves with mostly pure blood could stretch that to a thousand. The scale of their lifespans was just on an entirely different level.

“Giving in to hatred will cut your life incredibly short. You will find a grave right here on the battlefield. That would be a monumental waste. Think about how much good you could do with your life. Don’t allow your hatred to consume you. Tame it, control it. That will let you exact your revenge on the dark for centuries to come.”

Under the gazes of those short-lived people around them, the old elf spoke slowly, urging his beloved great-granddaughter onto a path of endless bloodshed. All because they needed her.

“No matter what it is for, passion is vital for us elves. With the passage of time, our emotions—our passions—dull. So I will not deny you your hatred. It will be with you for so, so long. Those of our ilk are quite fortunate to watch as our enemies grow old and frail before striking them down. But first and foremost, we must survive. That goes double for young elves like yourself.” That last part he whispered to avoid the ears of the short-lived ones around them. “In my lifetime, I’ve seen the first Demon King fall only for another to rise and take his place. I may be too old to see that happen a third time, but you will! You may even live long enough to see the whole demonic kingdom fall.” The old elf gave a wry smile. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of the demonic kingdom surviving another thousand years. “So let us do what we must with quiet solemnity. With all our might, we must deliver as much damage to the denizens of the dark as possible. That will be how we get revenge for Liliana.”

Heleina closed her eyes, finally calming down with a nod. “All right.”

“Hey, sorry for the wait.” Another elf, a slender gaunt-faced mage, came running into the prayer room. Though he already wore exhaustion like clothing, he was another powerful asset. He was a monk, the highest rank of mage among forest elves.

“Oh, I think this will capture the attention of our enemies well enough. Shall we give our visitors a warm welcome?” Stroking his beard, the old elf gave a sinister chuckle.

Heleina also forced a smile, prompting the same from the newcomer.

“Let’s do it, gramps.”

“I am ready when you are.”

“Okay.”

The old elf drew a branch from inside his robe. The gaunt-faced elf spoke a few words, causing the stone floor to split and reveal bare earth. The old elf stuck the branch into the ground, after which Heleina stuck her hands out near it, a steady stream of pure water bubbling out from her palms.

Heleina hummed a soft tune, as if she were just watering some decorative plants. The soothing melody was akin to a lullaby a mother might sing to a child, rather unfitting for a battlefield. As she swayed back and forth, the gaunt-faced elf joined her tune with his deep voice, his fingers twirling like a conductor’s as he drew letters and patterns. As they hummed, the old elf’s fingers began dancing passionately through empty air, as if strumming an invisible harp.

Space in the room started to twist and bend. The priests waiting in the prayer room with them were getting goose bumps just being in the vicinity. Even though humans didn’t have a strong aptitude for magic, they could feel the palpable sensation of this energy.

These high-level forest elves were weaving magic.

“Mythologia Replica: Sancta Nativitas.”

Mythological Replaying: Sprouting of the Sacred Tree.

As if to answer the voices of the three elves, the branch thrust into the ground began to give off waves of warm light. They spread wide, far beyond the confines of the prayer room. A luminous pillar was born at Fort Sikind, blossoming forth into a translucent tree of light. In response, similar trees of light grew out of the other five fortresses.

The enormous, shining trees cast out the darkness of the night, covering the city of Evaloti in the same divine glow that illuminated the elves’ own sacred ground. The six trees resonated together, creating a grand barrier that warded off all wicked curses and prohibited entry to those with ill intent.

Meanwhile, on the walls of Fort Sikind.

“Perfect!” Staring up at the legendary-class magic barrier manifesting above him, the Swordmaster Hessel uttered his gratefulness from the bottom of his heart. With that barrier, they could fight without fear of demonic curses or night elf arrows.

Hessel lifted his greatsword onto his shoulders and jumped to his feet. Naturally, the moment he did the night elf hunters unleashed a barrage of arrows right at him, but they didn’t reach their target. The moment the arrows made contact with the barrier’s light, they scattered off in random directions, as if carried away by a swarm of meddling fairies.

The other soldiers gave impressed exclamations at the sight, standing up to join him.

Now it’s just a question of how long this lasts.

He looked up one more time at the enormous tree of light overhead, his eyes carrying a silent prayer.

“All right! The mages are busting their asses for us, so it looks like we’re up!” The soldiers around him roared in response. “That’s the spirit! I’ve got your backs no matter what! Just you watch!”

“As long as you remember to break their lines, not ours!” one of the soldiers called out in jest, earning a laugh from Hessel.

“Shut up, idiot!”

As a Swordmaster, Hessel had earned the nickname “the Linebreaker.” Fighting defensively wasn’t his forte, but an all-out melee was his time to shine. That was why he had been stationed at Fort Sikind, where the fighting was expected to be the most intense.

“I’m the most careful guy there is! Make sure you don’t fall in love with my delicate swordsmanship!”

“Who’d fall in love with that?!”

“Have you ever swung that thing without causing some kind of mess?!”

“Oh shut it! Here they come!” Hessel cut the banter short as the beastfolk and devils on the other side of the light appeared in his field of view. The soldiers’ faces turned serious, each of their hands reaching for their weapons.

“Marksmen, ready...fire!”

As the order rang out, countless metallic thrumming filled the air. With nowhere to run, the beastfolk soldiers clinging to the wall were punched full of holes, sinking back in a bloody mess. Not only were the cat beastfolk with their famed lightning-fast reflexes hit, but even the devils with their protective magics took shots through the chest, erupting in explosions of magic all around. Though they were unable to hear sounds coming from the other side, the wave of consternation rippling through the enemy ranks was apparent.

“Man, dwarves are something else!” Hessel marveled aloud as the soldiers began cranking their strange devices.

They were wielding weapons that looked like sideways bows made of metal, with another wooden cross-shaped portion fixed to them. Apparently it was an invention the dwarves had concocted within the last year, something they called a “crossbow.” A small number of units had been brought to the front lines for testing purposes along with the reinforcements from the Holy Church. With so few available, most had been brought to Fort Sikind.

They were quite complex, required a lot of maintenance, and were difficult to reload. This intricacy made it unlikely any demons or night elves would make use of them should they pick one up. Though really, the night elves had the muscle, and the forest elves had the magic, that their arrows were more effective even without fancy weaponry.

On the other hand, with a bit of extra tinkering, they allowed humans to fire arrows with the same strength as a night elf. Of course they’d be a threat if turned against the humans, but no more so than the night elf arrows that already tormented them.

“Looks like they’re hesitating a bit—” Hessel was cut off by another wave of beastfolk beginning their charge. “Damn. Do these guys not give a crap about their lives at all?!” he cursed, adjusting his grip on his greatsword.

The battle had only just begun.

†††

We ran with all our might as our attack on the fourth fortress began.

It was three hundred paces from our forward line, reinforced by Concreta, to the fortress. Almost halfway there, a barrier—an aurora-like curtain of light settled over the fortress. Right when we were about to spring our attack, trees of light sprouted above all of the fortresses simultaneously, bringing us to a halt. When was the last time I had seen Mythologia Replica?

“That’s a rather flashy bit of magic,” Ante commented.

Sancta Nativitas was powerful, but it required a branch from the Sacred Tree itself, and had to be used before the branch withered. It wasn’t something that could merely be used on a whim. And they had spent six of those precious branches here. The forest elves must have been really desperate to keep Evaloti standing.

“What makes you say that?”

Even with a few small countries left in the way, the fall of Deftelos would signal the nearing inevitability that the elven forest would share a border with the demonic kingdom. If that happened, it was plain as day what the demons would do to their forest. Or maybe I should say, as plain as a torch in the night?

“Ah, yes. I can picture the night elves having quite the arsonous celebration.”

Exactly. Not to mention Rubifya’s love of setting fires, which was how she’d gotten the nickname “the Pyroclast.”

“Wow... What is that huge tree?!” Seiranite gaped up at the massive tree of light, using a hand to shield his eyes from the illumination.

“I’ve seen it before, long ago. It’s a barrier that deflects curses and arrows.” Kuviltal calmly spoke up from my side while still on the move. “Demons, night elves, and devils trying to pass through it will be met with a lot of resistance. Not only will it slow down your movements, but it will also create plenty of holes in our defense. So it’s very important to be on guard against snipers.”

He flashed me a glance with a meaningful look in his eyes.

“Piercing is forbidden,” I intoned, activating my Constraint magic to protect us from arrows.

“Perfect. Let’s go,” Kuviltal said with a satisfied nod. The veil of light was right before us. On the other side, the beastfolk were clambering up the walls and setting ropes and nets. Meanwhile, the heavily armored devils were floating up and attacking directly.

I touched the veil.

“Agh...!”

It was like the light rejected my very being. Kind of like I was trying to run through jelly, or like a thousand tiny hands had grabbed hold of me all over and were trying to pull me back.

So this was what it felt like for the denizens of the dark? I couldn’t help but wonder if I could slip through as easily as the beastfolk using Anthromorphy. Nah, I’d definitely die before I made it through.

The sharp sound of an arrow flying from the walls of the fortress split the air. The arrow had magical strength behind it, but my Constraint curse made quick work of it as the arrow lost all momentum. It struck Seiranite, who had been just in front of me, hard in the chest, resulting in a meaty thump as it bounced off his chain mail. The impact earned a pained grunt out of Seira.

“A forest elf arrow. Be grateful for His Highness’s magic. Otherwise that would have taken your heart. Keep your eyes up.” Kuviltal’s sharp admonition caused Seiranite to squeal pathetically as he raised his spear.

I finally pushed through the veil, making my way inside.

“Rrraaaaaagh!”

“Dieeeee!”

“Death to the dark!”

As I did, the sounds of battle rushed over me. The sound of metal striking metal and flesh striking flesh echoed from atop the wall ahead of me. Said wall was about the height of three grown men and the beastfolk vanguard had already scaled it. I looked up one more time, meeting eyes with a bow-wielding forest elf stationed in the watchtower.

From where I was, though it was clear they were well featured, I was unable to tell if they were a man or woman. Either way, an intense expression marked their face as they uttered a chant...and then unleashed an arrow wrapped in wind magic straight at me.

Arrows guided by wind that never missed their targets—a forest elf specialty. But as the arrow gained more penetrating power, my Constraint became more effective against it. Quickly the arrow slowed to a crawl, allowing me to effortlessly bat it out of the air.

Still, that shot had been quite impressive. The magic behind it had defied my expectations coming from an ordinary forest elf archer. They must have been conserving their strength for the main force, us demons, rather than wasting it on the beastfolk that had come before. Though...looking closely, I could see there were a number of night elf corpses lying around. Each of them had the same fatal blow—an arrow to the forehead. Would my armor be enough to stop one of those arrows? Or were the arrows too strong?

Staring back at the archer, I saw them bite their lip in frustration and pull away. Were they looking for another target so as not to waste any more arrows, or was this their attempt to lower my guard? Either way, if I was going to climb the wall, now was my best chance.

“How do we get past this wall?” I asked. Devils could ignore gravity and fly up, and beastfolk could use their claws to climb up the side, but neither of those luxuries was at our disposal. The wall was just a bit too high for us to try and leap to the top with a magic-enhanced jump.

“Normally the beastfolk would set ladders and ropes for us to climb,” Kuviltal said, motioning to a number of ropes hanging from the top of the wall. “But when you have Corvut blood on your side, things are a bit different.” He then charged his foot with magic and stomped—Concreta. Stone pillars punched up from the ground, melding together to form something between a bridge and a staircase.

“Incredible,” I found myself muttering. The Rage family was strong, but the Corvut family was scary in their own right. It made sense that someone like Kuviltal, who was in possession of both Bloodline Magics, had risen to the top of demonic society.

“Thank you. But it uses dark magic, so it will not last long within this barrier.”

As Kuviltal spoke, the staircase began to crack. Grass and flowers started to sprout all over it. The plants grew and died rapidly, reflowering over and over, each successive generation eating further into the stone. It wouldn’t be long before the whole thing collapsed.

“You guys first.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the lead.” Stopping Kuviltal as he ordered the three idiots forward, I put a foot on the staircase. “With this being my first deployment, let’s make it special.”

Without any room for a reply from the obviously reluctant Kuviltal, I leaped forward. Up there were Alliance soldiers already duking it out with the beastfolk and devils. Did you really think I’d pass up that opportunity and hand it over to the three idiots? If those humans were going to die, it would be by my hand!

Skipping every other step, I made it to the top of the wall where a group of human soldiers were in a tight formation while facing off against the beastfolk and devils. The top of the wall was only five paces wide and was slick with blood from the fallen bodies of humans and beastfolk. And even now the beastfolk and devils were reaching the top of the wall and diving headfirst into the thick of battle.

This smell... Yeah, this raw, metallic smell could be found in the air of any battlefield. And the moment I stepped onto the wall, it was like the atmosphere around me froze.

“There’s a demon!” All it took was one person’s shout to direct a hundred eyes to me. A wave of relief washed over the beastfolk, while hate and resentment poured from the humans.

“Kill him!”

“Death to the dark!”

“Veil us from these wicked curses!”

The defenders didn’t buckle; instead they strengthened their guard by putting their shoulders together and raising their shields. Though a single beastfolk could easily outmatch a single human, the solid wall of shields combined with the swords thrusting out the gaps between them left no openings for the beastfolk to exploit, slowly wearing down the attackers.

It was incredible. Their coordination was phenomenal. Both their training and their morale were beyond reproach. Though only for an instant, not even long enough to be called a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of admiring them.

And then, I drew magic up from deep within me. Centered on myself, I created a new law to bind the world.

“Coordination is forbidden.”

And so it was.

In an instant, the defenders’ line that had once moved as a single organism broke down.

“Wha...?!”

“What happened?”

“Our shields!”

Unlike a moment before, their footwork was out of sync—gaps opened between their shields, and both their offense and defense were no longer properly aligned. They even began bumping shoulders and tripping over each other’s feet. Those who tried to pull backward ended up stumbling into others while those who tried to push forward had others step in their way. The once smoothly gliding gears of their machine had halted their operation, as if a handful of sticks had been jammed in between them.

Though their priests likely had placed defensive wards on them, my magic was powerful enough to penetrate them.

“No way!”

“They’re open!”

“Die!”

“Gaaaah!”

The beastfolk instantly seized the new opportunity before them. Claws lashed out through the gaps in the shields, taking heads and throats with sprays of blood all around. Any attempts made to fill the gaps left by their fallen comrades were in vain as a devil wielding a massive axe leaped into the fray, ripping the defenders’ line wide open.

Like hell I’d let that stand.

“Those men”—I leaped down from the wall and ran into the skirmish—“belong to me!”

Lunging past the beastfolk, I made it to the front. I could see the faces of the human soldiers up close. Spattered in blood, eyes open wide, teeth clenched, brows furrowed... All their training had been stripped from them in the blink of an eye thanks to a cowardly curse. But they were quick to surmise what had happened and moved to fight on their own. They were perfect in every way.

I’d apologize later, even if it killed me. I’d apologize later, even after I was dead. But, for the time being, I donned a ferocious mask and brought my sleeping holy sword to bear.

“Wither away!”

With a burst of dark magic, I swung my swordspear at the array of shields before me. The soldiers were unable to maintain their grip under the curse as their shields flung away and clattered to the ground. And then, turning my blade back—

“Fuel me!”

A flash. An indescribably gross sensation reached me through my spear as my blade cleaved through flesh and bone over and over. Through torsos, through heads...my blade cut down the enemy soldiers leaving them to just fall to the ground—dead. The last remnants of their lives, blood spurting from their wounds, sprayed up and onto my face.

I laughed. A laugh befitting a ruthless demon prince. I wiped the blood from the edges of my eyes as if I was wiping away tears, then gritted my teeth and swung again. Every swing of my blade meant another life had been claimed.

They were so fragile. So feeble! I wasn’t even fully grown. In human terms, I had the appearance of a teenager. But not even a group of humans working in unison could overpower me. Not even a group of human bodies could stop my blade’s swinging. Powerful magic had enhanced my physical body. Hardened soldiers saw their arms snap like twigs beneath my strikes, their bodies being ripped apart without the slightest chance of resistance. Was I really that much stronger than all of them?!

“What’s wrong, humans?!” I roared as I continued to trample over their lines. “Is that the best you can do?!”

It was sad. They didn’t stand a chance against me. The vicious hatred in their eyes had surrendered to fear.

No, I understood. I had robbed them of their greatest strength, their coordination. But even so! This was too much!

“Rrrraaaaaagh!” Powerful emotion surged through me, something like anger and sadness, something I could only express in a wordless roar. But my sword didn’t stop. One, two, three. Before I even blinked, three more were killed! All of them, by my hand!

“Incredible...!” Somewhere far away, I heard Ante’s voice trembling. While I fought, I could feel the power she couldn’t contain flowing back into me.

I felt myself growing beyond my body. I felt omnipotent. Ecstatic. The joy of turning the laws of nature into my plaything. I kept swinging and my arm didn’t so much as tire; in fact it seemed to surge with energy. The enemy soldiers had already stood no chance, and the gap between us was only widening.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

Now I was laughing for real. Demons and devils could all eat shit! Our existence in this world was a mistake from the start! I’d wipe out all of them! I’d erase them all! So you...all you humans...

“Fuel me!!!”

Warm blood, dismembered limbs, and severed heads danced through the air. More blood than the ground could hope to drink drenched the world around me. The piles of bodies around me left no room to stand, so I pressed forward. More. Faster. Faster, faster, faster. I would end this battle as soon as possible. And this whole pointless war!

Suddenly, there was a burst of magic from behind me. The group of soldiers encircling me found themselves beset by a downpour of stone spears. The stone punched through shields and armor like they were no more than paper, impaling the soldiers where they stood. Without even looking I knew it was Kuviltal’s work—thanks to Concreta.

“Yah!”

“Take this!”

Then there was another surge of magic as two balls of black flame arced past me, the sticky black curse exploding upon reaching the enemy ranks. Screams filled the air as the human soldiers burned like bundles of kindling. This was the work of Okkenite and Seiranite.

Lightning, blades of wind, and all sorts of other spells and curses followed them, snuffing out dozens of lives like they were no more than wax candles—the work of Kuviltal’s subordinates. And then—

“Your Highness! Let me accompany you!” Albaoryl appeared at my side. “Hah! Yah!”

Not only did his weapon mimic my own, but so did his movements as he drove his swordspear into the enemy ranks. As if to fill in my blind spot, he ruthlessly thrust the point of his weapon into the gaps between the opposition’s shields and armor, quickly and accurately bringing down the defenders before us. Even in this space where coordination was prohibited, Albaoryl’s blessing of Abandon allowed him to coordinate attacks with me.

“I-It’s no use!”

“They’re too strong!”

“This is impossible!”

Cries of despair lifted over the tumult as the human soldiers watched their comrades get cut down.

“Agria Floga!”

A burst of sinister magic appeared at the top of the fortress and then a wave of silver fire raced toward me. Alba grunted as he swung his swordspear infused with dark magic to scatter the flames. More soldiers emerged from the fortress’s keep.

“Purifying wind, cast out these wicked curses!” The elven archer I had seen before called forth a pleasant breeze, and I could feel the domain of my Constraint start to crack.

“Megari Pu Rostacia!”

Oh great blessings!

A man in silver armor raised a shining silver shield. The brilliant light he cast quickly discarded the human soldiers’ fear and curses as they then proceeded to reclaim their formation.

“Veil us from these wicked curses!” another man in priestly robes intoned, layering another blessing on them. The human soldiers, who had felt like merely paper dolls a moment before, suddenly had a powerful weight to them. They had become magically stronger.

“No more running wild, demons!” The warrior in armor glared at me.

A hero.

Sure took your sweet time, huh? Do you have any idea how many have died at this point?

In truth, I could see his armor had already been marred with blood. He must have been fighting somewhere else. They were so young...both the hero and the priest. And the swordsman at their side still looked like a kid. They were really fighting with everything they had...

“The Church finally shows itself!” I jeered at them, the taste of the blood on my face painfully bitter. “And here I was getting sick of waiting!” After a shout that felt like I was spitting up my own blood, I turned to Kuviltal and Alba. “I’ll leave the small fry to you. Those guys are mine.”

Under my intense gaze, the demons didn’t make a peep, simply answering with swift nods. Leaving the newly enhanced human soldiers to my retainers, I turned my swordspear on the hero’s party.

“My name is Zilbagias—Seventh Demon Prince, Zilbagias Rage!”

The hero’s eyes went wide.

That’s right, buddy. I’m a prince. The leader of this army was right here in the thick of it with you!

“Bring it on! Show me what you’re made of!” I sneered.

“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!” The hero didn’t hesitate, leaping forward with a slash—no, with a thrust of his shield!

“Lampsui!”

Blinding light!

A flash filled the air. Though a simple tactic, it was quite effective against demons whose eyes were attuned to the dark. I was quite familiar with the technique as I had used it plenty of times myself. Predicting his plan from the way he’d raised his shield, I had focused dark magic on my eyes to counter the blinding flash.

“Stabbing is forbidden,” I murmured, establishing a new Constraint concentrated only on the area within arm’s reach.

Why forbid stabbing when he was slashing right at me?

A whistle cut the air as an arrow ricocheted off my helmet. That’s why. That damn archer had been lying in wait for an opening this whole time. Their arrows had powerful magic behind them, but not enough to break through such a focused Constraint.

Having made it through the blinding tactic and the sniping attempt, I deflected the hero’s incoming blade with my swordspear. For a moment, our gazes locked. Seeing me unfazed by both their surprise attacks, the hero was clearly rattled. He was so young.

Keep your face stiff like that and your enemies will make a laughingstock out of you.

“Ha ha.” So, as hard as it was, I forced myself to laugh.

Using the momentum gained from being struck by the hero’s sword, I swung the butt of my spear into him. He opened his mouth to chant, but I didn’t give him the chance. A magically enhanced strike like this was pretty hard to take, wasn’t it?

“Guh...!” Wrapped in holy light, the hero barely managed to hold his ground, blocking the strike with his shield.

Meanwhile, the warriors all around us burst into action.

“Hah!” Kuviltal’s Concreta rippled through the ground from where he stomped, spears of stone shooting upward like a new mountain range being born, punching upward between the legs of the soldiers that had returned to their ranks. Cries of agony filled the air as the spears shot up through their groins and into their torsos, bringing a swift end to their lives. As a man, I didn’t envy them one bit. Heck, no one thought to design armor with the thought of something coming up directly beneath their feet.

At the risk of repeating myself too much, the Stoneshaping Curse was really a huge problem. Magic capable of creating physical phenomena of that nature was something else. If it had been a curse, a ward would have been a sufficient means of protection. But a physical attack required something much different.

“Spirits of the earth, cast out their wickedness!” The forest elf archer prayed toward the ground. Perhaps because of Mythologia Replica, the ground in a considerably wide area around them began to glow. That would make Kuviltal’s earth-based magic much harder to use, but...

“Hiyah!”

“There’s more where that came from!”

The Nite brothers continued throwing balls of flame like they were chucking rocks. Any human soldier the sticky black fire made contact with turned into living torches. Then came the lightning, the blades of wind, curses to weaken their arms and break their minds—

“Aigia A Lumaturasu!”

Divine Armor of Champions!

The priest shouted, his voice almost a scream. Armor woven from silver light wrapped itself around the soldiers, nullifying the magical onslaught. The priest then dropped to his knees, shoulders heaving. Casting such a powerful blessing on so many people would have taken a toll on any human. It looked like he was completely spent. Now that I thought about it, ever since I had been reborn, I never experienced exhausting my magic supply.

“Gods of light, grant us protection!”

“Let their abominable speech be cleansed by your purifying light!”

“Let us pass through, veiled from these cursed words!”

With prayers on their lips, the human soldiers closed ranks and began their counterattack. In this state, the humans were quite strong. The beastfolk and devils couldn’t even slow their advance, going down in quick succession. And with their magic deflected, the demons would have no choice but to rely on their spearmanship. Being reasonably high-ranked demons, they were pretty strong, but—

“Rrraaaaagh!” The hero unleashed a bloodcurdling cry, bringing my attention back to my own fight. It seemed the hero was mustering every ounce of power he had as the light surrounding him flared up, his sword now blazing with holy fire.

I shifted my spear to the right, exposing my left side as if I had been distracted by the elven archer. Without delay, the hero caught the opening and thrust. It was a textbook move—proof that he had been well trained. So well, in fact, that he performed the maneuver instinctively, without a thought even crossing his mind.

A shame, considering the Constraint on stabbing.

“What?!” the hero exclaimed as his sword suddenly slowed. Perhaps he had yet to take the hint regarding my magic. After seeing that it protected me from the archer’s arrows, he should have assumed I was using some kind of powerful defensive magic. But seeing such a clear opening, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to exploit it. He was lacking a certain cunning edge. And he also lacked the experience to pick something like that up.

“Too young.”

While the hero stood all but frozen, I moved my arms. My swordspear—the old, battered Adamas—drew a clean arc, effortlessly separating the hero’s head from his body. The look of shock never left his face. No...that wasn’t true. His expression was frozen in shock, but his eyes glared hatefully at me.

As his headless body collapsed, a young swordsman brought his weapon to bear, stepping forward. His speed was unreal.

No way!

“A Swordmaster?!”

I focused all of my magic on my spear as I held it forward to block. A single silver flash filled my vision. With a satisfying ping, the blade passed effortlessly through the haft of my spear, splitting it in two and sending my right arm flying.

“Die!!!” The baby-faced swordsman roared, only paces away. He must have been barely twenty, if that. I was stunned. How did someone so young overcome the laws of nature?!

“Now’s not the time to be impressed!” Ante screamed.

Lifting his sword over his head, the Swordmaster’s blade glittered in the moonlight.

“Slashing is Taboo!” A wave of intense magic erupted from deep within me, slamming into the Swordmaster. The silver light cloaking the Swordmaster was unable to do anything as the boy froze in place.

And in that moment, the bones worked into the gauntlet on my free flying arm extended, reaching back to connect to my elbow. With a snap, the dismembered limb returned to its rightful place, just as I caught the Swordmaster in front of me in the grip of my dark magic.

“Me Ta Fesui.”

Sensation returned to my right hand. At the same time, the boy’s arm—with his sword still in its grasp—dropped to the ground.

“Huh?”

As if it had almost forgotten, the cleanly cut arm began to spray blood a moment later. The Swordmaster’s overwhelming shock replaced his fury and hatred as if they were never present to begin with. That expression looked so fitting on his painfully young, heartbreakingly innocent features.

Gritting my teeth, I brought Adamas down on his defenseless neck and his head soon joined his arm—rolling on the ground. This young genius, a bright, shining hope for humanity, lay dead. Cut down by my own blade.

“No way...”

“The hero!”

“The Swordmaster too!”

Cries of despair came from all the human soldiers in the vicinity. The priest looked on in horror as if the world was ending right before his eyes. Meanwhile, the elven archer roared a curse.

Oh, it’s a guy. I could finally tell from his voice.

The Divine Armor of Champions, the silver light protecting the human soldiers, began to fade. The hero and the Swordmaster had both been slain in quick succession, and the demon prince they had thrown their lives away to take down was unharmed. Given that, them being out of sorts was understandable. And as their morale crumbled...an opening for a curse presented itself.

“Coordination is forbidden.” A sound like glass breaking filled the air. The blessing sheltering the soldiers flickered weakly—

“Cower!”

“Wither away!”

“Flee!”

A torrent of curses washed over them. One man screamed, his fear taking to the crowd like fire to dry grass. Plenty of soldiers remained who had yet to be broken as they were still holding the line. But they couldn’t do it alone. Working together was the humans’ only chance to take on the demons, otherwise their effort was futile. And even if they tried to stay united, the curse of Constraint would befuddle their efforts, making their movements awkward and clumsy.

“Purifying— Guh!”

Just when the forest elf archer opened his mouth to chant a protective spell, a long-bladed spear punched through his chest, nailing him to the stone wall behind him like a bug in a display case. It was a spear with a sword blade on its tip. Though it mimicked my weapon, it wasn’t mine.

“Oh, I got him.” Alba muttered at my side, still standing in the follow-through of his throw.

“You...threw it...?!” There was no time for healing. A mouthful of blood gushed from the elf’s mouth, and then he was dead. The swordspear must have hit his heart. Letting go of one’s own spear was something demons never did. During training and practice matches, losing your weapon meant an automatic defeat. After fighting demons who had stood by that code for so long, the elf could never have guessed one would throw a spear at him.

But there was one man who wouldn’t be held down by that common sense, whose first thought upon seeing the opportunity would be “I might as well try.” That was Albaoryl of Abandon. A demon like no other. Unlike Kuviltal’s enjoyment throughout the whole battle or the Nite brothers’ discernible excitement, Alba seemed somehow despondent.

“W-Waaaaah!”

“It’s hopeless!”

“No, wait! Don’t give up!”

As I basked in the afterglow of my own encounter, the rest of the battle had passed its climax. The Divine Armor of Champions protecting the humans was snuffed out like a candle. The defenders who were broken and attempted to flee ended up slamming into those trying to hold steady. Not only did this prevent either of them from going anywhere, but it also left both parties vulnerable to the wave of magic that followed. Black fire, lightning, blades of wind, and projectiles of stone ripped apart the brave and the cowardly alike, effectively uncontested. Devils and beastfolk continued to pour over the walls and drive further into the human ranks.

“No...no...” The priest stared listlessly at the ground, his vocabulary lost to him. I walked up to him silently. “Gods...why...why are we...?”

Before he could finish his lament, I put him out of his misery.

“Sorry, Your Highness. I kind of did it by reflex,” Alba apologized, tearing his spear from where it was embedded in the wall. He seemed as unhappy as always. What was he apologizing for? For throwing the spear? Stealing my prey?

“Don’t worry. In war, all that matters is killing our enemy,” I responded flatly. Demonic customs, accomplishments in battle...I didn’t give a damn about them. “Let’s press the attack.”

“No, Your Highness. We have something more important to take care of.” As I moved to pursue the fleeing soldiers, Kuviltal grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s deal with that,” he said, pointing up at the enormous tree of light dominating the night sky.

It seemed the hero and his friends had been this fortress’s trump card, evidenced by the low-rank priests and old soldiers manning the fortress’s interior.

“We should hurry,” Kuviltal said as he ran his spear through another guard. “If we are the ones to bring down the tree of light, there will be no room for anyone to deny your accomplishments,” he explained with a grin.

“Right.” This was for my sake, was it? Looks like I had some great subordinates.

In short order, we made our way to the prayer room at the heart of the fortress. The stone flooring had been ripped away to reveal bare earth. Sticking out of said earth was a glowing branch, pulsing with a steady rhythm.

That was the branch of the Sacred Tree, the foundation of Mythologia Replica. The pressure emanating from it was palpable, its divine light rejecting the denizens of the dark such as ourselves. After seeing it in action myself, it was hard to argue the forest elves’ claim that it was a miracle left behind by the gods of light.

“This is my first time seeing it in person. While it does intrigue me from an academic perspective...” Kuviltal said, showing a bit of his scholarly side before urging me forward.

I nodded silently, stepping forward. It was beautiful. Far beyond what anyone would possibly expect from a simple branch.

I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.

With a silent apology, I cloaked Adamas in dark magic and brought it down with all my strength.

The shimmering night sky started to darken.

“No way...!” Barbara the Unicorn Swordmaster stared up at the sky in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Hessel the Linebreaker groaned.

“What...?” Old Master Dogasin was at a loss for words.

“Oh? Well done, prince.” Marquis Beteranos Rage was impressed as he watched from the main camp of the demonic army.

And in the heart of the capital, the priestess Charlotte continued her silent prayers, her expression growing a shade darker.

One of the fortresses guarding Evaloti had fallen.

This development had happened far too fast given the attack had only just gotten underway. The dawn humanity was waiting for was just too far out of reach. With the rapid collapse of an entire fortress, the Alliance’s entire defensive line also took a blow to their morale. Normally news like that would come as a report from runners, taking a considerable amount of time to spread throughout the army. But this battlefield was marked by Mythologia Replica. Though those enormous trees of light inspired great confidence in the defenders, they were equally powerful as symbols of defeat once extinguished. The emotional impact that had on the Alliance forces was tremendous.

“You’ve gotta be kidding... Jun...”

For Hessel the Linebreaker, stationed at Fort Sikind, the shock was enough to make him freeze. Jun was a Swordmaster, one who had overcome the laws of nature at only nineteen years old. Though they had only met a handful of times, the earnestness Jun possessed in his swordsmanship was rarely found in those raised from the standard infantry. Hessel had been very much looking forward to seeing how he grew in the future.

Fort Fhor, where Jun had been stationed, was defended by incredible young talents, elite priests, high-level forest elf mages, and battle-hardened soldiers. The combination of veterans and fresh talent left them not lacking in either quality or quantity. They should have had more than enough manpower to stand their ground against the forces the demons would have sent against a backline fortress like that.

And yet, the barrier over Fort Fhor was no more. It had disappeared. There was no way those fighting on the front lines could remain even-keeled if the demons had made it to the prayer room at the heart of the fortress. Both Jun and the young hero guarding it were almost certainly dead. That young genius, that rising star of hope for humanity...

Hessel was anything but an optimist. He had never expected all six fortresses to hold firm. But still, this was all happening far too fast. The branches of the Sacred Tree should have been able to maintain their power for a number of days. Their plan had been to hold the line until those branches were exhausted, wearing down the enemy forces as much as possible, before dragging them back into the city and miring them in urban warfare. He had hoped that would give him the opportunity to fight alongside Jun—assuming Hessel himself survived that long.

But with the barrier over Fort Fhor broken, the demons and their vanguard would have no qualms about pouring through that hole and into the city.

“Ha ha ha! What’s wrong, humans?! You’re starting to look a little pale!” A very muscular devil jumped to the top of the wall with a sneer, swinging something akin to a large cleaver.

“Shut up!” Hessel roared, sweeping the devil away with his greatsword. Though the devil attempted to block the incoming strike using his knife, instead his weapon snapped in two with a satisfying clang. The devil gave a ghastly cry as the unimpeded greatsword continued until it eventually reached his chest—slicing the demon in two. As the lower half of his body started to sag, Hessel kicked it back over the wall, where it quickly exploded in a burst of magic. There was not a single trace left of the devil.

“At least devils don’t leave a mess to clean up after they’re killed.” Hessel’s attempt at a lighthearted joke failed to land. None of the surrounding soldiers so much as cracked a smile. The shock of losing Fort Fhor was still too fresh.

What is going on?! What’s the plan?!

He glanced back at the cityscape of Evaloti far behind him, where the bonfires were still burning bright. Although the city appeared to still be safe for the time being, there was no telling how long until it was all up in flames.

What were the commanders thinking? Were they sending reinforcements to Fort Fhor? Was taking it back going to be too costly?

I don’t know...!

They didn’t have any orders yet, and even when news came, there was no guarantee Hessel would hear anything about it. Hessel was a Swordmaster. As much as he acted like a commander on the front lines, in reality he was more like a walking weapon, a single sword specialized in killing demons. When his superiors said “kill that demon,” his job was to say “yes sir!” and hop to the killing. In that way, he was quite similar to a hero. In fact his late friend, the hero Alexander, had pretty much said exactly that. They didn’t need to know the whole situation, and they didn’t have the skill or the right to make wide-reaching decisions.

But in a situation like this, not knowing drove Hessel crazy.

“Agh, I’m just wasting my time.”

There was no point dwelling on it. Smacking the side of his face, he brought his attention back to the battle in front of him. Fort Sikind was bearing the brunt of the demonic assault, and so far it was holding strong. The three monks they had backing them up had been pivotal in keeping the first wave of demons at bay.

“Rot away!”

“Panic!”

Every once in a while magic and curses would lash out at them from beyond the walls, but the old elf monk’s protection made it so even simple swords and shields could turn them away. While engaging the beastfolk and devils Hessel had kept his talents as a Swordmaster hidden, so when the demons made their first push he was able to cut down a slew of them with a single swing. His plan had been wonderfully successful.

On top of that—

A whistle filled the air as a beautiful blue star fell from the top of the fortress onto the enemy forces. In actuality it was no shooting star, but an arrow of magic. A demon slipping through the barrier protecting Fort Sikind had its heads blown clean off the moment it stepped onto the battlefield.

“Ohhh!”

“You did it!”

“Those monks are amazing!”

The gloomy atmosphere over the defenders began to clear. A forest elf monk glared out from the watchtower. Not even demons could defend against those magical arrows. Night elf snipers had made attempts to eliminate the monk, but another monk nearby had returned all their arrows to them, killing the snipers to a man. A number of demons had reached the walls during the first assault thanks to sheer force of numbers, but now they were totally pinned down.

These monks are something else...

Hessel was at once in awe and overcome by gratitude. However, their magic wouldn’t last forever. They had created that incredible barrier of light, and had been fighting nonstop since. When would they reach their limit?

If nothing else, at least keep these protections up for us. We’ll take care of the rest, Hessel thought. The tireless efforts of the monks meant that there had been very few casualties among the Alliance’s ranks thus far. They still had a lot more fight left in them. With a proper defensive rotation, they could keep going for days.

But that just brought back the previous question: What was happening behind them? Did it even matter if they held their ground? If just one of these monks had been stationed at Fort Fhor, would it still be standing now?

“Yaaah!”

Okay, that’s enough. This isn’t the place to be daydreaming about hypotheticals.

All he could do now was deal as much damage to the attacking forces as possible.

“All right, let’s do this!” Snapping out of his reverie, Hessel called to the soldiers at his side. “On my signal, pull on this,” he said, handing them a rope. The other end of it was tied around his own waist.

“Wait, seriously? Now?!”

“Yeah. Think there will be a better time?” Hessel whispered, motioning to the bottom of the wall.

“U-Understood.”

“Good.” Lifting his greatsword onto his shoulder, Hessel jumped over the side of the wall. Looking below him, he caught the gaze of one of the demons huddling there.

“Huh?” The demon’s eyes went wide as he saw Hessel falling toward him.

“See ya!”

Hessel came down with a tremendous overhead slash.

The earth itself split...horizontally. The crack ran parallel to the fortress wall for dozens of paces away from Hessel’s blade. Demons, devils, and beastfolk alike were ripped apart.

“Is the wall okay?!” After landing with a squelch on the torn bodies of the demons, his first thought was to check on the wall. Luckily he had landed a few paces away from the wall itself, so it was unharmed.

“What the—?!”

“It’s a Swordmaster! A Swordmaster attacked!”

“Get him!”

And though shaken, those outside his attack’s range and those who weren’t so lucky, barely clinging to their lives, poured in to counterattack. With a shout to the men at the top of the wall, the rope around Hessel’s waist was quickly pulled tight.

The soldiers pulled on the rope with every ounce of strength they had, allowing Hessel to run up the side of the wall. Deflecting night elf arrows with his greatsword, he managed to return to the top safely.

“I got...four or five of them...!” he managed to say while gasping for breath.

“That was incredible! Crazy, but still incredible!”

“You’re right about that. That’s one trick I won’t pull out for a while.” Hessel fell to his knees, shoulders heaving and pouring sweat. That attack was Hessel’s personal trump card, but it was as exhausting as swinging his enormous greatsword with all his might a hundred times. Repeating it in quick succession was out of the question.

On flat ground he could mow down entire swaths of enemy soldiers, but it was extremely dangerous to use since it ran the risk of catching allies in the attack. He had figured it wasn’t well suited for defending a wall like this, but with the forest elf monks drawing the attention of the enemy with their sniping, he had been able to slip it in.

At least there won’t be any demons attacking for a while, Hessel thought, taking a bottle of water offered by one of the soldiers beside him.

Fort Sikind’s line was solid. There had been significant losses among the demons. That meant there was a good chance the demonic army would forfeit its frontal assault altogether. If his guess was right, then Hessel and the monks wouldn’t be here much longer.

In the end, as he expected, the pressure on Fort Sikind started to wane. At almost the same time, new orders arrived.

“Recapturing Fort Fhor will be too difficult.

There is a threat of demonic forces reaching the city.

Swordmaster Hessel, rendezvous with the elites and repel their advance.”

I’d love nothing more, he thought.

†††

Repel the advance on the city.

After receiving those orders, Barbara was running through the barren night streets alongside the messengers that had brought them. The evacuation of the city’s outskirts was already complete. Civilians that couldn’t fight were all taking refuge in the castle or in the churches.

Now the city streets were a battlefield. The only ones present were Alliance soldiers...along with the demonic army’s vanguard who had already sneaked into the city. The heart of the city should have still been safe, but they couldn’t let their guard down. Rapier in hand, Barbara kept a sharp eye on their surroundings as she ran.

Luckily she was still in perfect shape. She had had a bit of a scuffle on the front lines, and had managed to bring down three demons. In that sense, she was already overperforming.

“Yo. We meet again.”

While they were running, they were joined by Hessel, shouldering his greatsword to wave. Though he seemed a bit tired, he was uninjured.

“You again?” Barbara grinned, clapping a fist to his shoulder. “Looks like we both made it. Didn’t expect we’d see each other so soon.” Though she tried to keep a lighthearted tone, her words came out sounding rather heavy.

They both fell silent as they ran toward Fort Fhor.

“That Swordmaster you mentioned was stationed up there, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Hope he’s okay.” Hessel nodded gravely, his murmuring making it clear he was lacking in hope.

Barbara could feel a pain in her chest at what that meant for that incredible young talent, but her feelings didn’t reach her face—just like Hessel.

“By the way, who is this?” She turned her gaze to the forest elf running at Hessel’s side.

“Our savior. He’s a monk.”

“Monk of the Sacred Tree Alliance, Ordaj. Pleased to meet you,” the elf greeted her.

“Swordmaster Barbara. The pleasure’s all mine,” Barbara replied, trying to maintain politeness while running. It was quite a struggle to keep the shock from her face.

Ordaj looked every bit like a pleasant old man. Forest elves had the longest lifespans of the long-lived races. They could live for hundreds of years without their youth or beauty being marred. But once they crossed a certain threshold, their appearance began to age dramatically.

How old is he...?

A forest elf so clearly elderly was a rare sight. He was probably sick of being bombarded with questions about his age everywhere he went. So, despite her curiosity, Barbara refrained from her inquiry.

Regardless, having such an experienced monk on their side was encouraging. While Barbara and the other humans stomped through the city, Ordaj gracefully ran as though he was being carried by the wind. It was a stark reminder of just how different elves were.

“Your presence is quite welcome here, sir. But will Fort Sikind be able to hold without you?”

“I don’t think it’ll be an issue,” Hessel answered. “Thanks to the monks, the demons at Fort Sikind walked away with quite a bloody nose. Their attack there has lost most of its backbone.”

Of course it being a feint was a very real possibility. Plus the actual meat of their forces had just been moved to press the advantage they had at Fort Fhor. That was exactly why Barbara was headed there. But really, however they managed to do it, the demonic forces infiltrating the city was bad.

“They were incredible. I lost count of how many demons their arrows of light took down.”

“Oho, that would be my beloved student’s handiwork. This is her first deployment and she is quite excited about it. I have been focusing my efforts on cleaning out those fallen to the night.” Ordaj laughed, stroking his beard.

“Really?! Her first deployment?!” Hessel’s face lit up. “If she’s doing all this now, I can’t wait to see what she ends up doing in the future! Man, that’s good to hear.”

Though he tended to look at things from a cynical perspective, for him to give someone such praise with no reservation was proof that they were truly exceptional.

“Indeed, indeed. I think a little relaxing could do her some good, but that is the kind of composure that can only be learned, not taught.”

“Yeah, it’s all about experience, isn’t it? Seriously, I couldn’t begin to imagine where we’d be without you monks. You’ve been incredible.”

“Oh please. We’d be nothing without you all standing your ground and taking the lead.” Ordaj’s gaze turned distant. “We elves must protect this kingdom at all costs.”

If Deftelos fell, there would only be a handful of small nations between the elven forest and the demonic army. The Sacred Tree Alliance couldn’t afford to allow the demonic kingdom to expand their reach. They had pulled out all the stops to reinforce the lines here.

For Barbara, whose nation had fallen just before the attack on Deftelos, she couldn’t help but wish they had made up their minds a little sooner. But there was no point complaining about that now.

“Ah, please turn here!” the messenger exclaimed, breaking his silence as he motioned them to take a back alley. “The road up ahead is already blocked.”

As far as they could see, the road ahead of them was perfectly ordinary. That said, the Alliance had no intention of idly standing by, twiddling their thumbs as they waited for the demons to attack. They had no doubt set all kinds of traps here.

After following the twisting alleys for a while, they ended up at a large mansion that had been converted into a forward operating base. Inside were a group of forest elves and a dozen or so heroes and priests from the Holy Church, including Charlotte. She had stubbornly refused everyone’s urging for her to flee from the front lines, determined to get revenge for her beloved Leonardo. Barbara responded to Charlotte’s polite bow with a smile and nod of her own, but deep down the sight of the priestess left her with some complex feelings.

In addition to all that, there were a number of other Swordmasters and Fistmasters present as well.

“Ah, Old Master.”

“Oho, I’m glad to see you two are okay.” Old Master Dogasin of the Wise Wolf Clan waved at them.

They had feared the long winter would cause him to wither away and be useless once it came time to fight, but it seemed their worries had been for nothing. Dogasin’s arms and claws were all dyed so dark with blood that simply washing wouldn’t be a sufficient means of cleaning them—the color was the deep blue characteristic of demons.

“Looks like you’re in great shape too.”

Dogasin chuckled. “You youngsters aren’t going to leave me in the dust quite yet,” he replied brightly. He was just as elderly as Ordaj (though their actual ages weren’t even slightly comparable). It was all encouraging to Barbara. As she looked around the room though, she noticed something.

Aside from Ordaj, all of the forest elves were quite young. Elves generally looked youthful, but this was different. The anxiety on their faces was typical of fresh recruits. Even earlier Ordaj had said that his “beloved student” was here on her first deployment.

So the forest elves are now sending their children and elderly into battle too?

A chill ran down Barbara’s spine at that realization. The unprecedented discoveries of teens awakening as Swordmasters had given them the impression the Panhuman Alliance was on its last legs, but maybe the elves were even more pressed.

“Looks like everyone’s here. Sorry for the urgent summons, but we need to share some info.” An older commander stepped into the room, looking over those gathered. “Unfortunately, Fort Fhor has fallen. We’ve witnessed some beastfolk and night elf hunters scouting the city in force, but there are no confirmed sightings of demons yet.”

Barbara shook off her ominous thoughts, focusing on the commander’s words. But it took only a moment longer for her resolve to be shaken yet again.

“According to reports from the survivors, Fort Fhor was taken personally by the head of the demonic forces, Seventh Demon Prince Zilbagias Rage.”

Anxious murmurs filled the hall.

“What’s royalty doing attacking the rear lines?”

“Though we were aware of there being a lot of demon heirs, this is the first confirmed sighting of the seventh,” the commander responded to the disbelief of one of the heroes. “As this is likely his first deployment, perhaps he wished to avoid the most active areas of the fighting. According to our sources, he’s very, very young by demon standards.”

The commander flipped a page in his hand. “‘His appearance is similar to that of a human teenager.’ He’s likely not fully grown yet.”

Which meant he was fifteen years old or younger. Murmurs of disbelief ran through the crowd.

“However, the reports indicate he possesses incredible magic. At least on the level of a count or marquis.”

That made him quite high ranked for a demon. Barbara wasn’t all that knowledgeable when it came to magic—even the weakest demon’s magic would result in her death sentence—but judging by the faces of the priests and forest elves, that was quite an impressive level of strength.

“He’s so young it’s his first deployment, but he’s already at the level of a count? You’ve got to be kidding...” one of the heroes said with a groan as a heavy silence settled over the hall.

“What kind of magic did he use?” another hero asked, prompting the commander to flip through his notes again.

“The only thing we know for certain is that it’s some kind of curse using dark magic. Besides that...‘a strong defense against both magic and physical attacks.’ Also, he was able to affect hundreds of soldiers simultaneously with a curse, even bypassing their magical protection. However, the greatest threat seems to come from a remarkable healing ability. ‘He was wounded in battle, but the wound healed almost instantly.’” Even as he spoke, a look of shock lit the commander’s face.

The room’s silence morphed into something much heavier.

“There are multiple testimonies of this. ‘Zilbagias lost his right arm to a Swordmaster, but in the next instant it was reconnected.’”

“That’s absurd...”

“What’s worse is that there are similar reports coming from across the front lines. ‘Take your eyes off them for a moment and an injured demon will suddenly become healthy again.’ ‘Demons that received fatal wounds somehow kept fighting as if they weren’t injured at all.’”

Though it was early spring, the atmosphere in the room felt like they were back in the dead of winter.

“These reports seem to indicate the Rage family we are currently fighting possess some kind of unnatural healing ability, or can use some magic to accomplish the same thing.”

“No way! You’re saying denizens of the dark can use healing miracles? A whole group of them?” one of the young elves sneered, though his expression was still quite stiff.

“I saw it firsthand.” One of the priests quietly raised his hand. “I saw a demon get their leg cut off. And then, like I was watching an hourglass in reverse, the leg reattached itself, and a human soldier nearby had his leg fall off. There was a huge amount of dark magic thrown at the soldier at the time. So, if I had to guess, this magic is a means of transferring one’s injuries to another. I thought it was a unique ability of that particular demon, but if reports are coming in from across the lines...”

“What the hell...?” One of the young heroes covered his face with his hands.

That’s going to be annoying.

Barbara was horrified. They didn’t know how demonic biology worked, but they had discovered that demons of the same family often had similar abilities. They already knew of the earth-wielding Corvut family with their handiwork in taking down fortifications, the fire-wielding Rivarel family, and the lightning-cloaked warriors of the Gigamunt family.

This was the first time the Rage family had taken center stage. Well, that was not necessarily true. It was also possible that every other time they had been deployed no survivors remained to report what had occurred. At any rate, there was a good chance the demonic forces they were currently facing were much stronger than anything the Alliance had ever seen before.

“So we just have to kill them in a single blow. Not much different from before.” Dogasin shrugged.

“True enough.”

“If they can still breathe, who knows what those demons are capable of?”

“There’s no way they’d be able to heal if you took off their heads, right?” The heroes started to laugh. As much as they were clearly putting up a front, it still helped to alleviate the heavy atmosphere.

“At any rate, consider this seventh demon prince to be a powerful threat,” the commander said, clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “As much as I hate to say it...our only option here is to drag things out and grind them down little by little.”

His tone was so serious that Barbara was unsure if this was his attempt at being lighthearted.

“The city has been filled with traps. We’ve got suicide squads hiding throughout the city, and outriders are already taking the fight back to the demons across the battlefield. I’m sure the demons will bring the fight to the city soon enough.” The commander shifted his attention to a clock hanging on the wall, lit by the flickering light of candles in the room’s chandelier. “Once the demons are sighted, the suicide squads have been ordered to sound the alarm.”

Sounding an alarm like that would guarantee their deaths. Hence the name, Barbara supposed.

“Once we get that signal, it’s your turn.” The commander’s gaze swept over the room again. “Beat back their assault, and take the demon prince’s head. That is our request for you.”

The commander bowed, and all the gathered warriors saluted back in unison.

Only minutes later, the shrill sound of a loud whistle cut through the night air, coming from the edge of the city.

†††

Advanced forces of the demon king’s army were beginning to filter into the city through the fallen Fort Fhor. This section of the city was populated mostly by ordinary civilians, so it was packed tight with two- and three-story buildings and connected by winding, complex roads running in every direction. Anyone unfamiliar with the area would get lost in no time.

“Here they come.”

Hiding in a building at a three-way intersection, a group of men in one of the suicide squads felt their tension spike as the shadows began to writhe.

In order to avoid causing any reflections, the men had painted their faces, swords, and knives black. Even with those precautions in place, they’d still be at a disadvantage against demons and night elves, whose eyes were much more effective in the dark. If they were going to launch a surprise attack, the use of fire was out of the question. The fighting hadn’t even started and they were on the back foot. But their goal wasn’t to take down the demons.

Three shadows raced down the alley. Beastfolk? Maybe night elves? Each of them wielded something like a long pole. As they ran, moonlight glinted off of blades—spearheads! A blinding purple lightning crackled out from the runners, racing down the street and destroying the traps lying in wait.

Demons!

Hiding within the darkness, the men shared a look, nodding to each other. The ex-palace guard brought the alarm whistle to his mouth while the one-armed swordsman and other ex-soldiers drew their blades. The hunter, who had once worked his craft on the western edge of the kingdom, slowly nocked an arrow.

Tension spiked once more. A loud thunk filled the air as one of the mechanisms in the street activated.

“Gaaah!” As one of the demons cried out in pain, a bear trap ensnaring his foot, the former hunter released his arrow—its black feathers almost silent as it raced through the night air.

“What?!”

But moments before it could even reach the demon’s shoulder, it bounced away as if it had hit an invisible wall. So they had some kind of defensive curse. Undaunted, the guard blew hard on his alarm whistle, and the rest of the squad jumped out and revealed themselves.

“Die!” They charged.

“Hah, a surprise attack? Be crippled!”

A sinister black magic poured from the sneering demons as they moved to greet the attack. The human ex-soldiers stumbled and fell, and a quick flurry of spearpoints put an end to them.

“Aaaaaaaah!” The hunter fired arrow after arrow in a blind panic, but without any prayers or miracles to support them, they didn’t stand a chance at penetrating the defensive wards of the demons.

“Cut it out!” Incensed by getting caught in the bear trap, the wounded demon fired bolts of purple lightning again, the resulting massive burst hammering the hunter’s building. The blast’s shock wave alone rocked the city. It was far too much power to take down merely a single human. The charred remains of the hunter flopped to the ground with a dry thud.

“Damn you all!” In the blink of an eye, the one-armed swordsman was the lone survivor of the suicide squad, but he continued the charge unflinchingly.

“Damn, it was just a bunch of small fry?” Initially the demons balked at the intensity of the charging swordsman, fearing he might have been a Swordmaster. But upon realizing he was just as slow as any other human, they started to break out into smiles. “Die like the weakling you are!”

A spear roared through the air, swung like a club. Seeing the attack coming, the swordsman narrowly dodged the attack, then swung his sword at the flank of the demon. The sword stopped dead with a loud, solid thunk. A thick layer of ice had formed on the demon’s left arm, catching and freezing the blade.

With a shout, the demon threw his arm back, tearing the weapon from the swordsman’s grip and sending it careening away. With only a single hand, the swordsman had no chance at matching the magically enhanced strength of his opponent. The demon then slammed his ice-encrusted fist into the disarmed man. A dull crunch accompanied the swordsman as he was sent flying through the air like a doll, striking a stone wall behind him.

“Whew, you guys are light! Die!”

The swordsman struggled to return to his feet, only to be rewarded with the sound of a wet thunk as a spear blade punctured his gut. But that wasn’t enough to stop him. With the spear impaling him, he pressed on with a roar, mouth frothing with blood as he drew a knife from his belt.

Taken off guard, the demon watched with wide eyes as the man drove his knife into the demon’s arm.

“Wha— You scum! Don’t touch me with that filth!” The enraged demon swung his spear again, sending the swordsman it had impaled flying. He then clicked his tongue, looking at the scratch on his right arm. “Of course it had to be the right arm,” he said, glaring at the enemy swordsman who only had a left arm remaining. “You bastard! My first battle wound and it’s going to be this?!”

“Your fault for being stupid.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed about getting wounded by some small fry?”

“Shut up!” the demon roared at his jeering companions. Meanwhile, the one-armed swordsman struggled back to his feet again.

“Would you just die already?!” Another spear punched through the swordsman’s gut. Lacking the strength to even cry in pain, he reached his trembling hand toward a pouch on his belt. That movement was enough to make the demon pause, until he saw the swordsman was simply pulling out an alarm whistle.

“Do it. Blow that whistle all you want! You guys weren’t even an appetizer! Go ahead and call for help!”

The swordsman blew a pathetically weak trill, barely audible to the demons standing right in front of him.

“Ha ha ha! Come on, you can do better than that! No one can hear you, man!” the demon jeered as he ripped apart the man’s legs and torso. The demon’s companions watched from a short distance away, grinning ear to ear. “What do you think? Will you live long enough to see help arri—”

A sharp whistle cut through the air. With a soft grunt, the eyes of the demon that had been tormenting the human swordsman rolled back in his head, blood spraying from beneath his helmet.

“Huh?”

“Wha?”

Beside the slowly collapsing demon was another person, one who hadn’t been there a moment before. Moonlight gleamed off a one-horned helmet—it was a black-haired swordswoman with a thrusting sword in hand.

“B-Boss...” the dying soldier murmured. Barbara returned the man’s gaze for a brief moment, but quickly shifted her focus to the enemies in front of her. And then she vanished.

“She’s a Swordmaster!”

Another sharp ping filled the air as the shouting demon was greeted by a rapier straight through his forehead. Unsheathing her bloodied weapon from the demon’s head, Barbara turned her attention to the last demon.

“Ahh! Keravnos!” the demon shrieked, purple lightning sparking from his fingertips. But before he could even blink, Barbara was gone in a flash, his lightning tearing through empty air.

The demon frantically looked around only to find the silver unicorn at his side. A sharp ring filled the air as Barbara’s rapier punched through the demon’s forehead. With a choked cry, the demon spasmed and fell backward, his eyes still open wide in shock.

Barbara had no idea if these were Rage family demons, but it didn’t matter. With their instant deaths, there was no reason to fear them using magic.

The sound of heavy footfalls raced toward Barbara as Hessel and the others arrived at the scene.

“All finished?”

“Yeah,” Barbara replied curtly, running to the one-armed swordsman’s side.

“B-Boss...”

“It was you, huh?” Barbara spoke softly, putting a hand on the man’s black-painted face. “You looked so handsome I didn’t recognize you.”

The swordsman gave a weak laugh. He was a familiar face, the same man who had exchanged banter with Barbara the day Leonardo had led his unit in the attack on the fourth demon prince’s camp.

“Here, let me...help...” Charlotte ran up to their side, but quickly went quiet.

His wounds were too severe. On top of that, he was missing an arm. She wasn’t strong enough to replace a missing limb even with her status as a priestess. Plus they couldn’t waste the time or energy of the forest elf monks on healing something like this. Healing those who couldn’t be an immediate benefit in combat wasn’t a luxury they had.

“It’s...fine...” The swordsman shook his head weakly. “I’m just...glad...I did...some...” Squeezing Barbara’s hand, the man gave an awkward smile...and then went limp.

Barbara closed the man’s eyes before getting back on her feet. For just a brief moment, she offered a prayer for all the men who had lost their lives here.

“Let’s go.”

The others responded with silent nods as they ran off into the night. Somewhere in the distance, another whistle disturbed the night’s silence. Demon soldiers were gradually making their way into the city.

“The seventh demon prince?”

“Yeah. Any small detail will help. Just tell us everything the survivors saw.”

Upon the general briefing’s conclusion, Hessel had approached the commander for more details on Zilbagias. The elites on standby had been desperate for any scrap of useful information they could get their hands on.

“Even if it’s just something they saw or felt. Any small impression is fine. Never know what could be the key to beating him. Could even be something like what equipment he’s using.”

“I-I see. One minute.”

Having been surrounded on all sides, the commander had quickly stood up and stepped away to collect the written reports of survivor testimonies. They had then proceeded to divide the papers among themselves and started reading.

“Looks like the hero’s attempt to blind him didn’t work.”

“One swing of his spear sent five men in a defensive formation flying.”

“It says arrows would slow down just before hitting him as well.”

Eyewitness reports stated that he had killed over a hundred human soldiers in only a handful of minutes by overpowering all the defensive wards and blessings of the priests with his curses. He was already terrifying, and they hadn’t made it through even half of the reports.

“Seems he’s wearing some flashy white scale armor. But when he moves, it doesn’t sound like metal.”

“White armor on a demon? That’s rich. At least he’ll stand out. Was it made out of some kind of monster?”

“Are there any monsters with white scales? Unless you think he’s wearing a white dragon,” one of the heroes scoffed...before his face turned grim.

Armor made out of the scales of a white dragon was quite reasonable. It would be resilient, lighter than metal, and the scales’ light magic would make him quite resistant to the light magic of the forest elves and the miracles of the human priests.

How had he been able to get his hands on white dragon scales? Of course, during the assault on the Demon King’s castle. The white dragons that had aided in the assault were said to have been completely wiped out. Which meant...

“Apparently Zilbagias uses a pretty strange weapon,” Barbara had said, reading aloud from the page in her hands. “It’s a spear using a human sword as a spearhead.”

“Gross.” Hessel had scowled. Everyone else had also worn similarly bitter expressions.

The symbol of humanity, the pride of the Swordmasters, to be in the hands of a demon of all people... For a demon who should have had an equivalent pride in his spearmanship to be using a sword like that, this must have been the involvement of some sort of devilish pact.

“Man, this guy pisses me off.”

Though her voice had been calm, there was no hiding the anger she felt. Wearing armor of white dragon scales, wielding humanity’s pride against them...it was like he was making a mockery of the Panhuman Alliance with his entire being. If they found him, she wouldn’t let him get away with that. Everyone in the room had felt the same way.

†††

Hi there. It’s me, Zilbagias. Here I am, running through the streets of Evaloti.

After taking the fourth fortress and a short break to rehydrate and the like, now we had found an opportunity to jump back into the fray. Apparently a few others had sneaked into the city ahead of us, drawing an enraged response from Kuviltal toward those who would dare to try and get a leg up on me.

I guess I also had a reason to be angry. The more humans they killed, the fewer would be left for me. But at this point, I couldn’t care less. I knew I had to care, but still...

Even my own body felt like a lifeless doll. Right foot, left foot, one, two, one, two...it was all so mechanical. It made me want to laugh. And when I did, it lacked oomph and was quite hollow, distant. It was like if I let my guard down for even a second, I’d start vomiting uncontrollably. As if all the power Ante had tried and failed to contain would just come pouring right back out of me, in a beautiful, puke-green waterfall.

Kuviltal turned a concerned look back on me as I chuckled out loud, which I answered with a grin. Evidently a bit disturbed, he turned his attention back forward.

We ran through a street strewn with rubble and furniture in haphazard, makeshift barricades. Kuviltal ran just ahead, his subordinates surrounding me in a tight formation, while the three idiots were of course leading the pack by a short distance. The street was filled to the brim with traps set by the Alliance...but the three idiots dealt with them while barely breaking their stride.

“Oh, I remember this one from training!” Okkenite said, tossing a small ball of magic at a wire trap he had picked out. The trap quickly collapsed in on itself. No...it was more like it had been dissected.

Since he had a pact with a Devil of Analysis, all of the harsh training Okkenite had endured finally found a place to be of use. Once he understood the construction of the traps, his authority of Analysis allowed him to take them apart without even triggering them. Normally the kind of dissection enabled by Analysis was only useful against living things, so it wasn’t exactly working in top form here, but it was still inarguably useful. I guessed it was similar to how I had turned Ante’s Taboo into Constraint.

“Ha! Killing two birds with one stone on that one, huh?” Okkenite declared proudly as the traps fell one after another. Since he was able to pick out the traps with his authority of Analysis, even finding them in the street contributed to bolstering his power.

“Good.” Kuviltal smiled, a proud look taking to his face upon seeing how much progress the young demon had made.

But that smile only lasted an instant.

I felt the atmosphere change around me, battlefield instincts roaring to life. Somehow the air felt rough, like it had gone rusty. Sweeping my eyes over the scenery around us, my gaze glided over dark buildings. There was something there. Despite the overhead streaming moonlight, there were dark black spots.

“Ambush!” Kuviltal shouted, swatting a volley of arrows out of the air that were aimed at me, and thus had lost most of their momentum due to my Constraint.

The battle cries of humans and beastfolk alike resounded as they poured out of the surrounding houses wielding all kinds of crude and improvised weapons.

Again, huh?

And so the killing began anew.

I felt a sensation like all the blood draining from my body. It was like my mind was freezing over as I shed every unnecessary thought and feeling. The sharp sound of an alarm whistle sounded ever so distant...

Pushing aside Kuviltal and his men trying to guard me, I took the lead. With one swing of my weapon, I cut down the humans charging right at me.

What? These guys don’t stand a chance against me.They might as well have been randomly picked off the street and given swords!

Not a single one showed an ounce of training discipline. Which, of course, I understood. There was no way they’d fight like trained soldiers. They were a militia at best. I’d be surprised if they had received any proper training in the first place!

Seiranite returned the charge with an otherworldly roar of his own. Thanks to his pact with a Devil of Strength, he was granted the brute force to mow down all the charging humans and beastfolk while swinging his spear like a club. Albaoryl carefully picked his targets, freezing them in place with curses before dispatching them using his weapon.

We cleaved our way out of the ambush without any trouble. It hardly felt like there was any danger at all.

“That whistle has me curious.” In less than a minute, the Alliance militia were dead to the man. Crushing the alarm whistle beneath his boot, Kuviltal eyed our surroundings warily.

“Waiting around here could offer us some fun,” I replied, wiping the blood from my blade.

“Shall we?”

“You guys want to rack up some kills for yourselves, don’t you?” My response and accompanying grin earned shrugs and wry smiles from Kuviltal and his men. When we had taken the fortress, I had killed the hero, the Swordmaster, and the priest...basically I had taken all the good stuff for myself. Even Alba had taken down a forest elf by throwing his spear.

If they were willing to set up death squads like this to sound the alarm, there must have been someone quite strong waiting to respond to them. They’d probably be here in a matter of minutes.

“I wonder what they’ll send us,” I murmured, happening to look up to the sky at the perfect moment.

Above us, within the moon’s light, I saw a shadow...a person, getting larger and larger.

And then there was a flash—a blade.

I felt a chill run down my spine as my hands instinctively swung my swordspear to block. A loud, sharp clang filled the air as a tremendous impact hit my blocking weapon. The flat side of Adamas creaked and groaned, shedding sparks. Somehow I had narrowly blocked the assassin’s aerial strike, deflecting their thrusting sword.

Our eyes met. It was a woman. A human. With black hair, wearing a helmet with a single horn.

“What...?”

A gentle wind blew through the street. All at once, the lifeless sensation that had taken my body vaporized. She glared at me with the sharp eyes of a feral leopard. There was a wild, ferocious beauty to the bewilderment on her face. Though the face before me had clearly aged greatly since the one in my memories...it still brought so many back.

“That’s an incredible sword. Where did you get it?”

I had a dwarf make it for me. It cost a fortune. Actually, I gave him all the money I had.

“All your money?! Quite the bold move. Maybe I should do the same.”

Yeah, well, it cost me...

“Huh? What?! Are you kidding me?! That kind of money is enough to set my family up for life...”

Getting a bit flustered, are we?

“Oh, uh, sorry. I was a bit...surprised. Ha ha ha...”

Sounds like you have things pretty rough too.

“It’s not too bad. Not to mention there are plenty of people out there who have it much worse than I do,” she replied, putting on a brave smile.

Yeah, I remembered. We had met while defending the now-ruined Kingdom of Puroe Refshi. At the time, she had been renowned as the youngest Swordmaster ever. It was especially noteworthy with how rare it was for women to become Swordmasters at all. And her name was...

†††

Barbara all but gaped in shock. Her attack had been blocked. Hearing the whistle, she had taken the blessings of the monk and the priests and sprinted across the rooftops, ambushing the demons from the sky.

She had been sure she could do it. Just like the reports had stated, it was the silver white scale armor. It all but shone in the night. She was going to do it. She was going to take down the demon prince. His guard was down now that the suicide squad had been wiped out. It would be her only chance. She understood the danger of such an attack and thus risked everything to ensure, at the very least, she would take him down.

And yet, she now stood eye to eye with Zilbagias. Crimson eyes wide with shock, a hint of youthful innocence still lingering in his startlingly handsome features. A sinister pair of horns, and pale, blue skin. He was undoubtedly a demon.

In his hands was a spear with a sword strapped to the end in place of a spearhead. And despite how old and worn the sword was, it had blocked her thrust. Barbara’s strikes could punch through the thickest steel. How had some old, battered sword...

No. It was old and worn, sure. But she recognized that sword.

“I had a dwarf make it for me. It cost me a fortune. Actually, I gave him all the money I had,” he had said brusquely. Spending all the money he had for a weapon sounded really gutsy. When Barbara had joked about doing the same...

“Yeah, well, it cost me a hundred gold coins.”

She had been left stunned. With that kind of money, she could have fed her now-refugee family for ages.

“Getting a bit flustered, are we?”

Apparently her shock had been obvious, something she struggled to cover up.

“Sounds like you have things pretty rough too,” he had said, eyes downcast.

A few years later, Barbara had been greeted by a sudden letter from him. He had joined a top secret mission, one from which he would never return alive. He had oh so politely included a whole bunch of money with that letter, writing, “It’s not like I’ll be able to use it anyway.”

This was, beyond the shadow of a doubt...his sword. Why? Why was a demon using it?

Of course, the answer was obvious. Because he had lost his life in that attack on the Demon King’s castle. It was no wonder his gear had been left there.

And yet. And yet...! Of all things, his holy sword was being used by this...by this...!!!

“You bastard!” Not even the Swordmaster Barbara could contain her fury.

“It’s a Swordmaster!” the demon prince’s bodyguard shouted, and suddenly the hands of time started to move once more.

Though she had failed to kill him with her initial attack...it wasn’t over yet. She’d kill him right here! Even if she accomplished nothing else, she would kill this demon right in front of her!

Landing softly, Barbara quickly shifted her momentum forward, thrusting—

“Thrusting is forbidden!” Upon the demon prince’s declaration, Barbara felt her body lock up.

A curse to stop my movements?! The protective blessings the monk put on me are screaming... What is this magic?! This is bad! This is really bad!

With her razor-sharp instincts yelling at her, Barbara abandoned her attack, using her forward momentum to jump away. Hardly a moment later, spears from all sides struck the space she had just vacated.

And, as if in response—

“Flas!”

Let there be light!

Arrows of light rained down on the demons. The monk Ordaj’s running magic had brought the rest of the squad here. Veteran heroes, priests, a monk, forest elf archers, and...

“Rrrraaaaaaagh!”

...a Swordmaster wielding an enormous greatsword, swinging his weapon with all his might.

“Diiieeeeee!”

It was Hessel the Linebreaker. He fiercely swept his greatsword sideways.

†††

“That secret move really is something special,” I had breathed a sigh of admiration while sweeping my gaze over the field of stumps the forest had been reduced to.

“I know, right?” The man responsible for the forest’s transformation had grinned, shoulders heaving as he leaned against an enormous greatsword thrust into the ground to support his weight.

The Swordmaster Hessel.

The defensive line had needed a lot of wood to build it up, so we had gone out to do some lumberjacking. And now the forest that had once stood tall had been scattered on the ground, like a giant had mowed it down with a sword.

“Textbook precision isn’t my forte, but if you want brute force, I’m your guy. You can call me Hessel the Sledgehammer!”

The Holy Church had sent reinforcements to the northern lines, me having been one of them. That was how I had met and immediately befriended Hessel. Both of our homes had been taken from us by demons. Neither of us had any family left. I was a hero, and Hessel was a Swordmaster. As elites in the war against the demons, we had an immediate sense of camaraderie. No one wanted revenge against the demons more than we did. We had sworn to take down as many demons as we could, using every second on the front lines to fight in order to defend the lives of those behind us.

But...Hessel the Sledgehammer?

“Might want to go back to the drawing board with that nickname.” I had been waiting for the chance for a while, so seeing the opportunity, I had immediately jumped on it. “This is more than just some heavy blow, right?” I had said, motioning to the former forest in front of us.

“I guess so. But when I first became a Swordmaster, I wasn’t nearly this good. The best I could do was split a big boulder in two.”

“That’s still a pretty big deal...”

So as he built up experience defying the laws of nature, his techniques had grown in strength. At any rate, the title of Sledgehammer hadn’t felt like it did justice to his current abilities. He deserved something flashier, something that expressed how he’d shatter the enemy ranks with that move...

Shatter the enemy ranks...?

“What about the Linebreaker?”

“Huh?”

“Hessel the Linebreaker. It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?” He had been known for duking it out on the front lines and always obliterating the enemies’ front ranks. Whenever he drew his greatsword, it usually meant the world before him was going to get leveled.

“The Linebreaker...it’s got a nice ring to it!” Hessel’s eyes had sparkled like a kid who’d just come across a whole stash of candy. “It’s perfect! I love it! So, from today on, I’m Hessel the Linebreaker!”

The elated Swordmaster had offered me a hearty fist bump.

“Thanks, Alex!”

A memory from long, long ago...

†††

“Diiieeeeee!”

The moment I saw the Swordmaster lift that enormous greatsword, I dropped to the ground. That reaction was purely instinctual, born from rekindled memories.

Hessel. He was still alive.

A gust of wind roared over my head as death passed me over. The earth itself rumbled as the surrounding houses were mowed down. Kuviltal’s subordinates around me fell to the ground with wet thunks.

Almost all of them had died instantly. Their bodies had been separated from the chest up, armor and all. Only one of Kuviltal’s men was still breathing, someone in front of him taking the brunt of the blow, and even now his hands—split cleanly in two—were flailing about in a mad frenzy. But fresh blood oozed from his chest with each beat of his heart. He wasn’t long for this world either.

Naturally, the three idiots standing in front of me had met the same fate. Glancing forward, I met eyes with Seiranite, who now looked like a bust statue of his former self. Everything from his shoulders up had been cleanly detached from the rest of his body. He returned my look with a wide-eyed stare of shock, though there was no life in them to see me. The beautiful new spear he had been given by Prati was beside him, split in two. Okkenite had met a similar fate, a diagonal slash splitting his body in two. Even Albaoryl was lying in a pool of fresh blood.

A single swing had left this much damage in its wake.

You sure have gotten stronger, haven’t you, Hessel?!

“Y-You bastard!” Only one other demon was left standing aside from me—Kuviltal.

His instincts were sharp. Sensing the incoming danger, he had used Concreta to make a large pillar, lifting himself up into the air before the slash had reached him. Though there was a marked relief on his face when he looked back and saw I was uninjured, that relief was quickly ripped away by his fury upon seeing what remained of his men.

“You damn weaklings!!!” He jumped down from his stone pedestal, placing a hand on it. A tempest of magic matching the rage on his face billowed out from him.

“Kon Apergia!”

Piercing Stone Fang!

The stone pillar rapidly condensed, turning into a collection of razor-sharp spears that exploded forward. Determined to get revenge for Kuviltal’s men, they all bore down on Hessel...who was effectively immobilized after using his secret technique. But the Swordmaster’s companions were well aware of the state his attack had left him in.

“Excuse me.” Jumping out from the shadows was a tattered looking old beastfolk. The thin and frail figure looked as though he’d crumple under a single punch.

“Megari Pu Rostacia!” A hero’s blessing soon cloaked that fragile frame.

With short, swift movements, the beastfolk laid his hands on the barrage of stone spears. Without losing any momentum, the projectiles veered off in various directions, flying harmlessly away. It was an incredible technique...clearly the work of a Fistmaster.

“Wha...”

Kuviltal was stunned—a fatal error in the midst of battle.

The sound of someone kicking off the ground was the next to reach my ears, causing me to jump backward, and forcing the attacker to make a decision—me or Kuviltal.

“Gah?!” As a result, Kuviltal took the blow, blood pouring from his mouth as a rapier punched through his throat. Behind him was the Swordmaster with the one-horned helmet.

“Your...Highness...” Kuviltal slowly crumpled as his spine had been severed. He looked to me, his eyes begging for help.

“Die, demon scum!” The Swordmaster delivered another swift blow to Kuviltal’s head, dropping his body to the ground. Kuviltal’s empty eyes continued to stare at me.

And then Barbara vanished.

Here she comes!

“Thrusting is forbidden!”

I swung my swordspear. Sparks lit the night air as I deflected Barbara’s rapier, robbing it of its momentum. Barbara grunted in frustration, but she didn’t stop for a moment.

Hessel roared, somehow able to lift his sword again.

He can use Linebreaker again already?!

“Alysida Entolon!”

Chains of Admonishment!

Before I had a moment to retreat, the priests began to chant, causing my body to be constricted by chains of light.

This is bad!

“Swordsmanship is for—”

“Shield us, purifying wind! Let us pass through, veiled from these cursed words!”

My Constraint was blown away by a warding prayer.

Hessel roared. Lifting his sword high above his head, he brought it down with a massive swing.

Everything moved in slow motion. Now that I was restrained, the priests and heroes spread their formation and started to hurl arrows of light at me again. Barbara was nowhere to be seen, likely lying in wait in my blind spot. The old Fistmaster from earlier was watching me, hands outstretched and ready to strike in case I so much as twitched. And look at that forest elf monk. He was nothing but wrinkles. How old was he? He had cunning to fit his experience, and the magical strength of a count. Forest elves of that caliber were rare.

Man. Their coordination was incredible. No matter how much I looked, I couldn’t find a single flaw. Their dogged determination to bring down a demon prince was heartwarming. This must have been the strongest unit in all of Evaloti. Barbara and Hessel...my old comrades. For a moment, I almost felt like it would be okay to let them cut me down.

“What are you talking about?!” Ante screamed in my ear.

Ha ha, yeah. I know. It was just a thought.

I was just left in awe at how spectacular they all were. It was truly praiseworthy, even if just for a moment. Their coordination, their individual skill, it was all first-class. But, even so, I couldn’t see them defeating the Demon King. So, while great, they weren’t good enough.

Ante, give me half of what you’ve been holding back.

Ante snorted. “I was considering just giving you all of it.”

Suddenly, magic exploded out from within me, spewing like an erupting volcano.

The old elf monk’s eyes went wide.

Yeah, it was this feeling again. No...this intensity was far greater than any I had ever experienced. This was a new feeling. Like I had just downed an entire bottle of the most expensive wine, I felt myself growing drunk on power...and at the same time, my senses all sharpened. There was a feeling of omnipotence but also something more than that, like everything outside of myself was less real. I could feel their fear, how everything cowered in my presence.

I unleashed my magic. There was no need for an incantation with this defensive spell. The chains that had bound me like sturdy rope gave way, offering less resistance than if they had been made of wet paper. Tearing them apart, I lifted my swordspear to block.

Hessel’s Linebreaker was incredibly powerful. I knew that full well from my days fighting alongside him. But no matter how powerful the skills a Swordmaster possessed, cutting beyond the edge of one’s blade was still unnatural. And when it came to the unnatural—and to distorting reality—the magically powerful would always come out on top.

The laws of this world became my plaything.

A hefty impact struck my hands, causing the ground to shake. The stone ground in front of me split in two—and I imagine behind me as well—as Adamas threw another cloud of sparks into the air, the strike shaving away a good chunk of my defensive spell. But that was the exchange’s only casualty.

“What?!”

“No way...”

“How...?”

Hessel, the Fistmaster, and even the monk were all stunned.

“Don’t falter!” The heroes rushed forward, their shouts bringing the Alliance warriors back to their senses. With their swords cloaked in holy fire, the heroes charged right at me. I could sense all of their actions: the sound of Barbara moving behind me, the sight of the Fistmaster jumping into action, the priests reciting their chants once more, and the elderly elf unleashing another arrow of magic...

“Attacking is forbidden.”

My magic, many times stronger than it had been moments before, dampened their assault as it inundated everything. High-pitched squeals resounded from all directions as the Swordmasters surrounding me, the arrows of light, and the Fistmaster’s hands were swatted away by my defensive barrier.

Silence fell over us, as if the defenders couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Truly incredible, men and women of the Alliance,” I spoke softly. “The coordination you have put on display is worthy of the utmost praise. But unfortunately, it is not enough to take my life.”

And I regretted that fact, from the bottom of my heart.

“My name is Zilbagias Rage”—the heroes standing around me unconsciously stepped back—“Seventh Demon Prince, and the next Demon King!”

My magic went wild.

That’s right. I would become the strongest demon in the demonic kingdom’s history.

“You have thoroughly impressed me with your performance. I shall meet your challenge with an effort befitting the greatest of demons.”

So, I’m sorry.

“Fuel my rise.”

An overwhelming magic billowed out over my swordspear. I casually lashed out at the hero near me. The hero raised his shield. Though it had been reinforced with holy magic and layered with protective spells and blessings, it gave way under Adamas’s might—sliced apart with ease along with the arms holding it.

†††

No way! What the hell is going on?!

Barbara was trembling. Even a seasoned veteran like her was overwhelmed by what she was witnessing. The hero’s arms, along with his shield, had been ripped to shreds. A shield that was supposed to have been covered in defensive wards and blessings!

The hero gave a pained grunt through gritted teeth. Meanwhile the demon prince responsible for his agony looked on coolly, something like pity in his expression.

You bastard!

Enraging herself at the prince’s insult was Barbara’s only way forward. Even Barbara, who was entirely unable to sense magic, could tell something had changed in the prince. The pressure he gave off, the weight of his existence, was very much extraordinary. She was sure everyone else in the vicinity shared the same emotion—fear.

Even so, not a single one of them turned tail and ran.

“I am honored by your praise, demon prince,” the old elf, the monk Ordaj, hissed. “But, unfortunately for you, you are not the first demon of your stature that I have had the pleasure of hunting!”

The prince turned a bemused expression on the elf.

“Comrades! Buy me ten seconds!”

Ordaj’s command immediately returned life to the faces of the Alliance soldiers. The monk had a plan. That was all they needed to know. As long as they had hope, they could fight. The entire squad fell in, taking a protective formation around the monk.

“Interesting. Let’s see what you’ve got!” The prince charged with a ferocious grin.

“Gods of light, grant us your healing mercy!” One of the priests began to chant, and the wounded hero’s arm ceased its bleeding. With a roar the hero took up his holy sword once more, returning the prince’s charge. The other heroes joined him. Charging with swords, unleashing magic, and swinging their shields, all in an attempt to impede the demon prince’s advance. Barbara followed them up with thrusts of her own, while Dogasin swung behind the prince to sweep at his legs—

“Be crippled!”

As he deflected Barbara’s rapier with his spear, a wave of darkness blacker than the night sky burst out of him. Its imposing force obliterated the Alliance’s defensive magics. Barbara felt the strength flee from her legs.

The prince gave a shout as he delivered a thrust of his own. Seeing what had happened before, the hero at the receiving end lifted both his shield and holy sword to defend against the thrust...and a sound like a cannon shell hitting a castle wall erupted from him. The holy sword was knocked away and the shield was shattered. As for the man who had held them, the prince’s spear passed clear through him. Blood and organs sprayed from the hero as he collapsed. There was no healing him. He had died instantly.

But that didn’t stop the demon prince. A wide sweep with his spear sent the next hero in line flying, while a third narrowly managed to block the blow with a two-handed swing of his own sword.

“We’re not...losing this!”

The Alliance soldiers took the opening, dashing forward at the prince still in the recovery of his swing. A ceaseless barrage of attacks battered the demon’s protective magic, all while avoiding the swinging spear’s whirlwind. Any contact with it meant certain death.

“Swordsmanship is forbidden.”

A powerful curse erupted from the prince, lashing out at their fighting spirit.

“Let us pass through, veiled from these cursed words!”

The priests chanted in unison, desperately trying to resist the torrent of dark magic. However, their combined efforts were not enough as they were steadily being forced back. Meanwhile, the prince was still on the move.

How much longer?!

While Barbara and the others fought desperately to keep the prince occupied, Ordaj started humming behind them. A gentle melody, like that of a lullaby, filled the air—

“Oh come on!”

For the first time since their encounter had begun, the prince showed signs of being off-kilter.

“Mythologia Replica...”

Mythological Replaying...

A shudder ran down Barbara’s back. Not an unpleasant one, though—something much closer to joy. She could feel something divine, something majestic, like the breath of life itself.

“Dammit!” the demon prince cursed, trying to rush the monk, but the remaining heroes blocked him with a wall of shields. Another heavily wounded hero grabbed at the prince’s legs, and was cut down in an instant—but an instant was all it took.

“...Sancta Nativitas!”

...Sprouting of the Sacred Tree!

A rainbow light shone throughout the street. Not only did Barbara’s body feel lighter, but the demon’s curses also washed away like no more than a thin layer of grime. A pillar of light extended up into the night sky, growing and growing, until a translucent holy tree settled around them.

“Guh...!”

But while the Alliance soldiers were reinvigorated, the demon prince grunted in pain. The unassailable fear engendered by their enemy, the unbearable pressure he emanated, was wiped away. That titan of the battlefield suddenly felt like a manageable foe.

“I kept a spare branch, just in case!” Ordaj grinned, on his knees while speaking through heaving breaths after completing the great ritual on his own. Before him stood a single branch of the Sacred Tree, embedded in the ground and pulsing with power.

For the forest elves, defending Evaloti was a matter of life and death. They had gone so far as to have prepared spare branches should unexpected developments arise.

“The seventh branch, to take down the seventh demon prince!” Ordaj declared, eyes burning with hatred.

“Now! Take him down!” Seeing their chance, the heroes rushed forward again.

Just like before, their strikes deflected off his defensive wards, but this time there was a clear sense of those wards being gouged away. And most importantly, the demon prince himself had slowed.

Barbara roared, mustering every last drop of strength she had as she thrust with her rapier. They wouldn’t give the demon even a moment’s respite.

“We can hardly say we avenged the princess if we don’t take down at least one demon prince!” Ordaj laughed as he heaved for air, beginning to sing once more. A stirring, powerful melody—

“Mythologia Replica...”

Mythological Replaying...

Ordaj’s magic harmonized with the translucent Sacred Tree around them.

“...Heroica Ultio!”

...Heroic Vengeance!

With that chant, the swords, claws, and bows of the Alliance soldiers began to glow.

Even the weapons of the fallen heroes and members of the suicide squad began to brilliantly shine. It was the will of those who had perished in battle. A divine light, bestowing on them the power to exact vengeance.

Barbara felt determination welling up inside her.

We...

Everyone around turned to the prince with vicious glares.

“We will not lose!”

Radiant weaponry rained down on the prince with an intensity unlike thus far.

“In the name of Demon Prince Zilbagias...” A sinister black magic poured out of the prince once again. “...coordination is forbidden!”

The curse took hold. The powerful spell sent a stiffening sensation through Barbara’s body. In one fell swoop, the movements of the Alliance soldiers became clumsy and awkward, confusion and dissonance plaguing their coordinated assault.

But one thing was clear to Barbara—the prince’s curse was not as fierce as it had been before. The curse had been dampened by the Sacred Tree. And with that tree of light acting in concert with the protective wards of the priests, the curse was soon washed away entirely.

“What can a lone demon prince accomplish?!” Ordaj shouted, bending light magic together into the form of a bow and drawing it taut. Those arrows of light had already taken numerous demons down in the preliminary skirmish—

“I’m alone, am I?” With his defensive wards in tatters and his curse effectively resisted, the demon prince should have been backed into a corner. And yet he wore a wry smile. Had he given up? Did he lack awareness of his current situation? Either way, this was the end for him. As one, the Alliance soldiers moved to deliver the final blow—

And, at that moment...

“———————”

An incredibly extreme torrent of sinister magic exploded outward from Zilbagias.

Barbara was sent reeling. It felt similar to the curses he had unleashed before—but not quite the same.

He didn’t even use an incantation!

There was only a single individual on the street that had heard the spoken words—the demon prince Zilbagias himself.

“In the name of Devil God Antendeixis, coordination is Taboo.”

The demon prince was not alone. Of all things, a devil god resided within him. Who could have imagined that?

Thrown off-balance, the Alliance soldiers moved back into the fight, but this time their coordination had taken a fatal blow. And the opportunistic demon prince wasn’t going to pass up that opening.

The demon prince’s presence swelled again, power surging within him as he stepped forward. With speed to astound even a Swordmaster, the demonic youth intensely sprinted akin to a wild beast freed of its chains.

“Like hell!” Recognizing immediately that his target was Ordaj, another Swordmaster moved to block the thunderbolt of an attack. But...

“Slashing is forbidden.”

A thick wave of curse magic lashed out and gripped the Swordmaster as if to crush the life from him.

“You think that’ll stop me?!” After enduring waves and waves of the curse, they had started to get used to dealing with its effects. With the aid of Mythologia Replica, the Swordmaster was able to quickly recover and switch to a thrusting strike.

“Stabbing is Taboo.” But tragically, he was unable to hear the devil god’s whisper.

A look of shock rose to the Swordmaster’s face as his body froze. At the same time, the arrows soaring toward the demon prince suddenly halted midair before clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Purifying wind!” Ordaj immediately moved to throw off the curse—but it was too late.

With a sharp breath, the demon prince swung his spear. Not a slash, not a stab, but a blunt strike using the butt of his weapon. A sickening crack resounded from the Swordmaster as his neck shattered, causing him to drop lifelessly to the ground.

“Dammit!” Hessel cursed as he charged, raising his greatsword as if it were a shield, taking a posture that would allow him to swiftly alternate between slashes, stabs, or strikes on the fly. If the demon prince tried to stop one of them, Hessel would greet him with one of the others. And if he took too long to decide while trying to read Hessel’s moves, then he would be met with a full-body tackle, wrenching the prince’s guard open.

The prince’s face twisted into a scowl, recognizing the Swordmaster’s gambit. The whole battlefield swung into motion, Hessel acting as the Alliance’s fulcrum. They all watched intently for an opening, shifting to a similarly versatile stance themselves. Barbara’s determination matched the others’, lying in wait for a chance to capitalize on whatever opportunity Hessel created for them.

A sinister wave of magic flooded out from the demon prince.

Again?! He’s trying to hamper our teamwork!

It was another spell, another curse that took no incantation. The same one that had sealed their attempts at coordinating their attacks earlier...

...Coordination?

Barbara had a flash of inspiration.

“Everyone, fight on your own! Don’t think about what anyone else is doing!”

The Alliance soldiers snapped to the same realization as they heard Barbara’s shout. If he was going to befuddle their attempts at coordination, then they wouldn’t coordinate in the first place. It was the simplest solution imaginable.

“Flas!”

“Die, you bastard!”

“Take this!”

Arrows of light, shining blades, and restraining miracles all bombarded the demon prince as each soldier fought in a manner of their own liking. Dogasin began picking up stones and rocks, launching them with his fists at the demon prince with tremendous speed.

The amateurish assault led to them sometimes tripping over one another and landing strikes on each other rather than Zilbagias, but anything was better than taking the prince’s attacks head-on.

“Let us pass through, veiled from these cursed words!”

“Purifying wind!”

“Spirits of the wind, cast away this gathered filth!”

On top of that, the priests and forest elves repeated incantation after incantation, bestowing defensive blessings with everything they had while keeping thoughts of coordination or efficiency out of mind. As a result, many attacks started slipping past the prince’s guard, wearing his defensive wards down even further.

“Gah...!”

Desperately fending off the storm of attacks, the prince flashed an annoyed glare at Barbara. A look that caused her to pause.

What was that look?

Though it was one of annoyance, the glare had no hatred in it...

And with a roar that shook the surrounding buildings, the man least suited for teamwork arrived—Hessel the Linebreaker. He swung, relying solely on brute force, paying no mind to his allies. The muscles in his shoulders rippled as he slashed with quite literally all of his strength.

A hero hissed as he threw himself at the prince in an attempt to hinder his defenses at the risk of his own life. He grabbed at the prince even as the Linebreaker struck. The prince cut down the meddling hero and, without any time to dodge, moved to block. The defensive wards around him creaked and groaned, buckled inward, screamed...and, like an enormous orb of crystal, shattered.

Hessel roared again, his attack not slowing in the least. He swung again, no concern for the allies behind him who might get injured in the process. With the prince’s defenses broken, the blow snapped his spear in two. This time Hessel’s blade would reach him.

This is it!

Hessel was absolutely convinced his strike would bisect the demon prince’s head. But when his blade struck, he couldn’t believe his eyes. With his spear broken in half, the demon prince had taken the sword he was using as a spearhead to defend himself as though he was an ordinary swordsman. His form was smooth, flowing, beautiful—and lashing out for Hessel himself.

You’ve gotta be kidding me!

Hessel couldn’t help but stare awestruck at the sight. As a Swordmaster, as someone who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship himself, as someone who loved wielding the weapon in his own two hands, he could tell immediately.

How...?!

The prince was skilled. That strike, that thrust, instantly brought back images of his old friend. The reality of that fact made Hessel want to break down crying on the spot. Those were his last thoughts before the demon prince’s blade took his life.

The blade swiftly pierced the Swordmaster’s skull. As Hessel’s body lifelessly dropped to the ground, fresh blood spraying to dye the prince’s blade red, Barbara’s vision turned similarly crimson.

“You bastard!” she roared, the light bestowed on her rapier from Heroica Ultio a blazing incarnation of her inner rage. “Don’t touch that sword!!!”

She felt a strong push from behind. The atmosphere exploded. A thrust—so fast it left a trail of steam in the air behind it—bore down on Zilbagias. Though his defensive wards had returned, the glowing rapier gouged into them and punched through. Clearing the way for...

“Diiieeeeee!”

Her target was the area where the prince’s armor offered the least amount of protection—the base of his neck. The rapier hit its mark. Her razor-sharp blade parted his pale blue skin. This would be fatal, cutting off his ability to breath.

But the rapier stopped dead, slamming to a halt. No, to say it was the rapier that had stopped wasn’t exactly true. Rather, it was Barbara herself who had stopped. Zilbagias had struck with the broken haft of his spear held in his left hand. Her armor had barely stopped the blow from punching right through her, but the tremendous impact had dented the armor, driving the air from her lungs. Sent flying like a ball, she struck the wall of a nearby house. Though he had interrupted her strike, blood still spurted from the prince’s neck.

We can do it! If we keep this up...!

The heroes, Swordmasters, even the forest elf archers—with their arrows depleted now charging with knives—rushed the demon prince.

Muddy dark magic poured out from the prince, wrapping around the closest hero and scouring away his defensive wards.

“Me Ta Fesui.”

Blood sprayed from the hero’s throat. As the hero slowed while snapping a hand to the sudden hole in his throat, the demon prince’s sword howled.

All Barbara could do was watch helplessly, the hard impact to her chest and the wall making any attempts to breathe futile, much less stand. Her fist tightened on her rapier, threatening to split her own palm open, as the light of Heroica Ultio grew more intense.

Right! Right! He has that!

She had entirely forgotten. The prince possessed a magic to transfer his injuries to others.

That’s... That’s absurd...! she screamed internally.

Zilbagias’s bleeding stopped immediately. She had heard about his ability to transfer injuries which made killing him instantly imperative. But that was a ridiculous proposition. He wasn’t the sort of enemy to just roll over and die. And if they dealt anything less than a killing blow, it would be reflected right back at them.

This is all my fault...!

Waves of guilt and despair inundated Barbara as she watched the hero take his final breath. How on earth were they to fight a monster like this?

And then she met the prince’s gaze. His eyes were a murky red. That’s what she thought. The youthful innocence she had first seen was nowhere to be found. His eyes were filled with pain, sorrow. The eyes of someone who had fallen into darkness. And they stared back at Barbara, the prince stepping forward to finish her off.

The wind whistled as an arrow cut through the air. Even Barbara could tell there was something different in the magic of that arrow. For some reason the demon prince was caught off guard, too slow to react. The arrow struck him directly, cracking his defensive wards. The prince turned a shocked look on Ordaj, who had bent back the branch of the Sacred Tree and was using it as a bow to fire magical arrows.

The monk fired again. Incapable of defending against arrows blessed by the Sacred Tree itself, Zilbagias swept the arrow out of the air with his broken spear. Ordaj didn’t let up on his barrage, but sweat poured from his wrinkled forehead like a waterfall. There was no hiding how much pain he was in. It was clear to everyone present that this was his last ace in the hole.

Turning his attention to the monk, Zilbagias leaped into motion once more.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

The remaining heroes, priests, Swordmasters, and Fistmasters moved to protect the old elf, but just like Barbara, they were all approaching their limits. The priests had drained virtually all of their magic, the forest elves were out of arrows, and the Weaponmasters were weighed down by exhaustion. Despite all of that, what weighed them down even more was the discovery that any scratch they put on the demon prince would be reflected back at them—something not even the Sacred Tree could protect them from.

“Barbara!”

With Zilbagias’s attention elsewhere, Charlotte ran to Barbara’s side. Even though she was just as exhausted as the other priests, she nevertheless stripped off Barbara’s dented breastplate and began healing the wound on her chest.

But as she did, the rest of their allies were being cut down one by one.

“Alysida Entolon!”

Chains of Admonishment!

Chains of light summoned by the priests were torn apart like paper. Magic vines created by the forest elves met a similar fate. The prince’s chanted curses, along with the occasional waves of magic lacking any incantation at all, precisely interfered with every attempt to attack him. And despite using all that magic, he didn’t show any sign of exhaustion. There was only one word to suitably describe him—“monster.”

I have to get back in the fight. I need to find a way to kill him. This healing is taking too long!

“Barbara, please listen.” Char began to whisper as healing light poured from her hands. “It’s a long shot...” The priestess’s eyes burned with a savage thirst for revenge. “But I have a plan to take down the demon prince. Please help me.”

Chapter 2: Reflections on Death

She had a plan to take down the demon prince. That was all Barbara needed to hear, but...

“What...is it?” Thanks to Char’s healing, Barbara finally reclaimed her breath and was able to squeeze out those words.

“I’ll use this.” The priestess carefully pulled out an object.

After a single look at that along with Char’s brief explanation about the incredibly simplistic strategy, Barbara closed her eyes. She hadn’t been kidding. It would be a long shot. But...the odds slightly edged out simply blitzing him haphazardly.

“Got it. Let’s give it a shot!”

Keeping a lid on the storm of emotions within her, Barbara gave a fearless grin...but one that didn’t quite hide the pain she felt inside.

“Thank you.” Char smiled back, her expression similarly strained. Both of them were putting on a brave face, but in this situation, that was all they could do.

“Good luck, Char.”

“Thank you. And the same goes for you. I’ll...leave the rest to you.”

Barely having finished her healing, Char dashed away—toward the prince.

Chains of light and mystical vines continued to wrap around him, but one swing of his spear scattered them. Another priest had exhausted his magic and so had drawn his sword in an attempt to distract the prince with melee combat, but he was ultimately cut down. Ordaj was heaving for breath, quickly reaching his own limit. But if he didn’t keep firing his arrows from the Sacred Tree bow, it would be like freeing Zilbagias from a cage. Their crumbling defensive line would be obliterated. Sheer willpower was the sole thing keeping the old elf on his own two feet, and even that would be lost at any minute. Either Ordaj would collapse, or Zilbagias would break through and cut down the branch. Regardless, what little magical resistance the Alliance soldiers had would be gone, and Zilbagias would trample them underfoot.

Char had to vigorously fend off her encroaching instincts as they urged her to break and run. After all, she was just a merchant’s daughter. Before her coming-of-age ceremony, she would just hole up in a room and read books. She had no place here on the front lines in the war against the Demon King, much less charging this monstrous demon prince herself. It all seemed like some cruel joke. Deep down she secretly hoped that she’d wake up to find out this was all just a bad dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. No matter how many times she prayed, no matter how many times she woke up from her slumber, the man she loved never returned.

And if she ran away here, there was no way she could face him. Not like he would judge her. In fact, he’d probably be the first in line telling her to run away. But even so.

Picking up a bloodstained shield from where it lay on the ground, stumbling a bit at its unexpected weightiness, she held it before her as she ran.

Mother, father...I’m sorry.

Her last thought was to apologize to her parents, likely in their hometown still worrying about her.

But I’m going to die here.

Steeling herself, she charged the prince. For the first time in her life, Charlotte screamed at the top of her lungs, venting all of the fear and nerves inside. But that scream, a young girl’s cry which was unbefitting on this battlefield, made it even more successful at drawing Zilbagias’s attention. Crimson eyes turned to her, suspicious of what scheme this random weakling was trying to pull. It took everything Charlotte had not to stop in her tracks.

But she ran. She charged.

“Hii Yeri Lampsui Suto Hieri Mo!”

A silver light wrapped around her. But unfortunately, when it came to her strength as a priestess, Char was below average. The light she summoned couldn’t compare to the others’. Not only was she lacking in fighting skill, but also her body was small and frail. She could only strengthen herself ever so slightly with that holy blessing. In just a few more steps, the demon prince’s spear would cut her down, and that would be that. In just a few more steps...if that was all she was going to do.

Please...give me courage!

Her free hand tightened around something.

Give me courage like you had!

In one hand was a shield, and in the other...a small urn. Said urn held the ashes of her beloved’s arm, the only part of him that had returned after the attack on Emergias’s camp.

Ever since the day he died, Char had prayed. Every day without fail, for months and months. She had invested this small urn with her hatred, her anger for the demons, and her love for that hero.

“I converted my magic into prayers and infused them into this,” she had explained to Barbara. Normally enchantment magic of that nature was far beyond anything Char could dream of accomplishing, but for some reason these remains accepted her power. “If I use this, I’ll be able to create a strong holy light. But it’ll only last an instant.”

She would release all of the magic infused in those remains at once, even if the resulting light would only last a few moments. And since this concoction was Char’s doing, she’d be able to use the resulting magical power as if it was her own.

“I will use a miracle to stop the pain and heal myself as much as possible.”

He could slash or stab Char all he wanted, she’d cling to the demon prince and restrain his movements until her last breath.

“Between the holy light and my body, there should be an opening. The holy light should also burn away some of his defensive wards. So, after that—”

Char gritted her teeth, glaring at the demon prince.

Zilbagias was expressionless, the only change in him a slight narrowing of his eyes, as if out of pity. Even as he did, he smashed through a Swordmaster’s blade, then cut down the hero standing beside it. All that remained were a number of priests covered from head to toe in wounds, the old master Dogasin heaving for breath, and the clearly exhausted beyond their limit forest elves, including Ordaj. Of course his priority was still Ordaj, but as if just to be on the safe side, he slowly turned his spear on Char.

“Zilbagias!!!” Char screamed, breaking the seal on the urn.

This isn’t the demon prince that killed him. That was Emergias, wasn’t it?

Though she knew that in her head, she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.

“This is for...” She threw the urn, scattering the ashes it contained over the demon prince’s head. “This is for Leonardo!!!”

Zilbagias froze.

Char’s magic which had been infused into the ashes for months flashed to life. A tremendous silver fire billowed out around her body. The dim light provided by Sancta Nativitas was entirely drowned out by her silver inferno, filling the street with a brightness that rivaled the sun at noon.

“Wha?!” The stunned Zilbagias quickly recovered, thrusting with his spear, but he couldn’t hide that he was shaken. The tip of his spear strayed. It shattered the hero’s shield Char had picked up, sliced through her arm, and pierced deep into her side.

But that didn’t stop her. She grabbed the demon prince’s spear and pulled, as if trying to draw it further into herself. Incredible holy magic surged through her, forcing her body to move. The powerful healing miracles couldn’t stop the pain, couldn’t stop the hot blood that was her life from gushing out of her.

But even so, she continued forward. Just like she knew Leonardo had.

She continued to scream, her voice starting to gurgle as blood frothed from her mouth. With each step her vision blurred more and more. But she continued forward. Forward. She struck the demon prince’s defensive barrier, wrapping herself around it and the demon prince within.

“Dammit!” For the first time that night, the demon prince was obviously flustered, desperately trying to shake off the priestess. The Alliance soldiers saw the opening she had created and jumped into action. The prince flailed, hit her, drove his spear further into her, broke her bones and tore apart her insides, but Char continued to burn with holy fire, never letting go. And as she clung to him, that fire reached Zilbagias himself.

The demon prince cried out in agony. Melding the bone ornaments around his armor into a knife, he stabbed at Char, but she didn’t die. She clung on to life with every ounce of her being. Even the curses he used to try and pry her off were incinerated by her holy flame.

Zilbagias’s movements ground to a halt, forcing him to fend off Dogasin and the other soldiers with one arm.

“Incredible!” Dogasin praised Char as he approached. “Allow me to lend myself to the cause!”

Being a specialist in defensive combat, Dogasin had been unable to find a way to break through Zilbagias’s own defenses. But now he knew that didn’t matter. Closing in tight, he began deflecting the demon prince’s attacks from point-blank range. Unable to completely stop the spear shrouded in dark magic, Dogasin’s hands were quickly reduced to a bloody mess. But he had accomplished what he set out to do—buying a few seconds. Because...

It’s up to you, Barbara! Char continued to scream as her consciousness rapidly started to fade.

Another figure rose beyond the wavering, dimming flames of Char’s last resistance. The demon prince gasped, realizing what the sacrifices of both Char and Dogasin had all been for. Crimson eyes opened wide as one last Swordmaster readied her bloodred rapier.

“Dieeeeeee!”

The blood-soaked blade shot forward with the speed of the gods themselves. The blazing holy magic around Char whirled around the rapier, infusing itself into the weapon.

This was Char’s last gambit. With Char’s own blood covering Barbara’s rapier, the priestess could treat it as an extension of herself. And that meant it would be protected by holy magic. In that instant, Barbara’s rapier had been transformed into a holy sword.

Of course, that last blessing consumed what remained of Char’s magic. With all the power from her body spent, she slowly slipped off of the demon prince’s body, sinking down into a pool of blood.

Barbara’s holy rapier, infused also with the power of Heroica Ultio, shone with a blinding light. The prince’s defensive barrier screamed as the weapon made contact, buckling and then shattering. Holy fire erupted from the blade as it plunged forward. There was no way for Zilbagias to get out of the way. After Char had fallen, Dogasin had taken her place restraining the prince’s movements.

“Thrusting is Taboo!”

Zilbagias unleashed a curse with all his might. Sinister dark magic billowed out and enveloped Barbara.

But this time, she was ready. Waiting for the moment the curse landed, she snapped her wrist downward—slashing. It was true rapiers were specifically designed as thrusting weapons...but they still had blades! On top of that, this was a weapon made for someone who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship—a Swordmaster. Even if it couldn’t match Alexander’s holy sword, it was still a masterpiece. It would be more than sharp enough.

That split-second change to a slash was entirely unobstructed by curses or defensive wards. The blade reached Zilbagias’s neck. Holy magic roared as the blade bit deep. An explosive blast, nothing like the sound of her usual thrusts, filled Barbara’s ears.

And Zilbagias’s head soared through the air.

Blood sprayed from the stump of his neck, covering Barbara in a thin layer of blue as she stared. It was like time itself had slowed down.

Barbara was stunned. They had done it. All thanks to Char. Demon Prince Zilbagias was dead! Relief, exultation, and sorrow at those lost overwhelmed her, pushing consciousness further and further away. The demon prince’s head sailed through the air, crimson eyes vacant—

“Unconsciousness is Taboo!”

Though those words didn’t reach Barbara’s ears, she nevertheless snapped back to alertness. And then she met the gaze of Zilbagias’s severed head.

A tremendous wave of magic erupted from his headless body, the waterfall-like torrent rushing toward her. Ordaj immediately began chanting a warding blessing, but Barbara didn’t hear him. The dark magic from the demon prince’s blood that coated her body had already burrowed its way into her.

The demon prince’s...blood.

Barbara looked with shock at the rapier in her hand. Char’s blood had made it possible for her rapier to absorb her holy magic, turning it into a holy sword. Blood was a powerful magical catalyst. So what did that mean for Barbara, now coated in the demon prince’s blood?

Suddenly, the sensation of Sancta Nativitas’s incredible support was one she could no longer feel.

“Alex! You are not dying here!”

The devil god screamed.

“Survive! Alex!!!”

The bones adorning the demon prince’s armor whipped outward, grabbing his disembodied head and forcing it back onto his neck.

Me Ta Fesui.

The demon prince’s lips moved.

Barbara felt herself falling to the ground, striking her head. Thanks to her helmet which had been passed down in her family, it didn’t hurt at all. She was lying on the ground. She couldn’t feel her body.

No way...that can’t...

And then came the despair.

After all those sacrifices... After all that effort...!

A dull thud reached her ears as a Swordmaster’s headless body struck the ground—her own.

This can’t be how it ends...!

The demon prince Zilbagias, though evidently shaken with a hand to his neck, returned to the fight as he cut down a stunned priest.

You...monster...

Barbara’s vision blurred, her consciousness rapidly fading. She had no way of knowing that the taboo on unconsciousness had been lifted.

The final image she saw was Charlotte’s body following her grand sacrifice, lying in a pool of blood at Zilbagias’s feet.

†††

Why?! Why didn’t I do anything?! Dogasin’s long life had left him with plenty of regrets, but few compared to what he felt now. The moment his head had been severed, I could have smashed it to pieces...!

Alternatively, he could have ripped apart the prince’s body. If he had, Zilbagias would’ve had no recourse to revive...and Barbara would still be alive.

Dogasin howled, every bit like his wolf heritage, as he struck at Zilbagias again. A beheaded demon reviving themself was one thing he had never expected. After all, who could have ever anticipated that? Though he felt that way deep down, the excuses only made him angrier at himself.

Results were all that mattered. Barbara was dead and Zilbagias was alive.

“Gaaah! Dammit, dammit, dammit!!!” Still holding a hand to his neck, the prince cursed repeatedly as he desperately fended off the remaining soldiers’ onslaught. The slight silver lining to this whole situation was the fact the demon prince’s revival didn’t appear to be perfect. Silver flame wrapped itself around the demon’s neck, like a brilliantly shining collar. Holy magic had still worked its way into the prince’s wound.

“Kill him!” Ordaj shouted, voice strained and hoarse, sustaining Sancta Nativitas and continuing to produce warding blessings for the Alliance soldiers.

They all understood this was their best chance...as well as their last. If they were going to kill Zilbagias, it had to be now. In terms of this squad’s current state: all the heroes were dead, Dogasin was the last surviving Fistmaster, the armed priests were swinging their swords with the last dregs of their strength, and the forest elf archers had been forced into melee combat after exhausting their supply of arrows. But little by little, Zilbagias’s defenses were being worn down. Deflecting the prince’s weak counterattacks, they continued to strike at his barrier.

Dogasin brought his breathing back under control. His regrets were piling up and his frustration bordered on panic. But for now, he’d forget it all.

Anything nonessential had to be discarded.

It’s cold.

The spring night’s gentle breeze felt once again like the heart of winter. His close friends were dead. He had failed to do anything meaningful. Why had he suffered so long through that brutal winter? Had it not been for this exact moment?

Remember Char’s resolve, Dogasin. What must you do now?

Deflecting the prince’s spear, he unleashed another barrage of strikes as he questioned himself. What must he do? What could he do? What had he done?

The dead cannot move, can they?

Seeing Char crumpled in a pool of blood, a thought suddenly occurred to him. As he was now, a suicide attack would accomplish absolutely nothing. He would just be throwing his life away. He needed something else, something more.

Ah...I see it...

And he found it. A simple sacrifice wouldn’t be enough. He needed to discard everything. But was that something he was capable of accomplishing? That dilemma made his heart race, a strange sensation. For just a brief moment, regret came to his mind. Regret that if he had come up with this plan earlier things might have been different, but for now he set those thoughts aside.

So, it is decided.

He would do it. He discarded all hesitation. He did away with all regret. He needed only two things: resolve and the trust of his remaining companions.

Dogasin howled again, the roar of a mad dog, as he threw everything he had into another flurry of blows. Both Zilbagias and the surrounding forest elves looked on in shock, recognizing that his reckless assault was a result of him abandoning all sense of self-preservation.

Had he succumbed to despair? That thought alone sent a wave of panic through the elves, and relief through the prince. From the prince’s perspective, the Fistmaster in this state was much easier to handle compared to his previous defensive approach.

Carefully dodging around the forest elves, the prince took aim at Dogasin.

“Eat this...!”

Breathing ragged, the prince lunged with his spear. Dodging the thrust by a hair, Dogasin grabbed the prince’s spear and yanked hard, pulling him closer. Predicting Dogasin’s maneuver, the prince answered by stepping forward with an elbow strike, controlling the distance between the two.

“Dodging is Taboo!”

While the prince used magical wards to repel all attacks against him, Dogasin froze. A short, sharp stab punched through Dogasin’s chest, piercing his heart. The old master spat blood, wavered, and then began to fall.

The forest elves cried out in despair. Their front line, the last elite on their side, had been killed.

“Finally...I can finally end this...!” Zilbagias said, a ferocious yet desperate smile taking to his face as he pulled his spear free. He immediately moved to strike the hesitating forest elves around him—

And was sent flying as an impact took him in the side.

“Huh?” The prince’s mouth was agape, unable to process what had just happened. “Uh...?”

He slammed hard into the wall of a nearby house, his defensive wards screaming. With his wards incapable of absorbing the entire impact, his head was spinning. Combined with the pain still in his neck, he was totally disoriented.

“Sir...Dogasin...?!” The forest elves were similarly shocked.

The old master expelled a deep breath. Although the prince’s spear had supposedly pierced his heart...his fists still moved.

The old master had come to a singular conclusion—he no longer needed a heartbeat. Dogasin had survived the winter on barely anything. He had effectively eaten nothing all winter, opting instead to give most of his food to the beastfolk orphanage.

Another deep breath. He had thrown away everything unnecessary. For a Fistmaster, one who had overcome the laws of nature, he figured he could survive with much less strength than any ordinary person. And now he had proven that to be true. His body had withered and shrunk, but his techniques had grown sharper. With less strength, with less energy, he could deliver even greater force. And where did that lead him?

I do not need to breathe anymore, he thought, expelling another breath. I do not need a heartbeat. He was calm. The world was quiet, serene. There was no hesitation left, no anxiety.

However...there was also no future. He understood his current state was merely temporary. He understood he wasn’t dead yet. There had to be a limit to this state. With Ordaj almost completely spent, there was no way he had the power left to heal fatal wounds like the one Dogasin had received.

Dogasin would die here. So...he had used his life as bait to lure the prince into lowering his guard.

Truly just the vain struggle of a man who refuses to die. That thought made him want to laugh, but the feeling soon evaporated. This empty world he had found was so...gentle.

Let us go.

He had one last thing to do. The old master danced forward, his feet moving slowly and calmly, yet pulling him toward the prince with unnatural speed. Zilbagias flinched at the sudden approach, struggling to get back to his feet.

Dogasin stretched out a hand.

“Hand-to—?!” The prince stopped mid-sentence before saying “hand-to-hand.” He had no way of telling if that was what Dogasin was attempting, as all the Fistmaster had done was reach out a hand. It wasn’t a jab, and it wasn’t a punch. He wasn’t slashing with his claws either. He was just stretching out his fingers.

And with that smooth, gentle motion, he rapped on the prince’s defensive barrier like playing a short tune on a piano.

With a sound akin to breaking glass, the barrier shattered. It had appeared as though the attack had no strength behind it at all. The prince was stunned.

Ah, what an incredible attack.

In this state, Dogasin could finally see it—the heartbeat of the world. He could see the oscillating breath of the laws of nature themselves. Creating incredible results didn’t require incredible force. Exhaustion was another one of those laws. Once you understood that...

Quite unfortunate my end is near.

Strength leaving his body, he started to slump. But having already thrown away his worldly regrets, that fact wasn’t enough to earn a serious complaint from him. If Dogasin had fought like he usually did, there was doubt in his mind that he would have ever reached this place. This breakthrough had only been made possible by throwing himself forward without a single regard for his own life.

That is all I have.

This was his limit. He fell, landing on his back. The starry sky, filled with the dim light of Sancta Nativitas, was breathtakingly beautiful.

He exhaled one last time, a smile rising unbidden to his face.

“Now!”

As Dogasin fell, the remaining forest elves rushed forward, each with a knife in one hand...and magical water in the other.

“Drown and die!”

With his defensive wards destroyed, the water would reach Zilbagias easily. Here, at the last moment, a revelation had dawned on them. Drowning wasn’t a wound, so how could the prince reflect it back at them? Even if he could, his mouth and lungs would still be filled with water. That would hamper his ability to use incantations.

The prince made a gurgling noise as the water struck his face. As the water made contact with the holy fire on the prince’s wound, his face was set to a violent boil. All he could do was scream and scream from within the bubble as his face was boiled alive. There was no way he could fight like this. And even if he deployed his defensive wards again, the water was already inside.

“Spirits of the water...!”

Staying a few steps away, the forest elf responsible focused everything on maintaining the water magic. Thanks to Sancta Nativitas, their spirit magic was extremely effective. But even after this long, the prince was still in good fighting shape. They couldn’t approach him recklessly.

“Spirits of the earth, lend your aid!”

“Spirits of the wind, cast away this gathered filth!”

As such, the other forest elves worked to restrain the prince with what little magic they had. Even while suffocating, even with his face being boiled, the prince was still about to dash out and deliver viciously accurate thrusts with his spear.

“Just buy some time!”

“Hurry up and die!”

The remaining forest elves lunged forward, covering the water magic user. One lost his head. Another took a thrust to the heart. But even as they watched, the prince’s movements were gradually getting slower.

“Finally...!” A desperate relief filled Ordaj as he readied one last arrow of light. Once the prince collapsed, he would obliterate the demon’s head. Since he had been able to revive himself even after being beheaded, the best course of action would be to treat him like undead.

“Hurry... Hurry...!”

Ordaj’s vision was starting to blur, having exhausted so much magic. But his eight hundred years of life had instilled a certain stubbornness in him—and he was ready to show it off.

Thunk!

Suddenly, some kind of object—a pole—flashed and cut down the branch of the Sacred Tree.

“What...?” Ordaj looked down in shock. It was a spear. An ugly thing with a human sword strapped to the end as some makeshift spearhead.

“Me Ta Fesui.”

A voice resounded—and it wasn’t coming from the prince. It belonged to someone else. In his exhausted state, Ordaj’s magical resistance was next to nothing.

The monk choked. Blood poured from his arm and chest as he collapsed. He had no idea what had happened. Was it reinforcements? No, he hadn’t sensed anyone coming through the barrier. Desperate to see what had just transpired, he struggled to move his eyes.

“Al...ba...!” With the protection of the Sacred Tree gone, the prince had finally shaken off the water magic and freed himself.

“My apologies, Your Highness! I passed out!”

Rolling his shoulders, the new arrival tested his freshly regrown arm. Standing there was a young demon with slicked back, ash gray hair—as if nothing had ever happened to him.

†††

When Albaoryl came to, he was walking down a dark road.

“Huh? Where am I?”

It felt nostalgic, yet somehow scary. As though he recognized the place, yet didn’t at the same time. The bizarre cityscape...no, was it even a city? He walked between enormous stone structures. Towers? Gravestones? He couldn’t tell.

“Why is it so cold...?”

Why was it so chilly if winter had passed?

“Bro!”

“Albaaaaa!”

He could hear his younger brothers.

After looking around, he saw that a large bridge was ahead of him, beyond which the Nite brothers were waving at him.

“Oh, you guys! That’s where you were!” Alba waved back. “Hold on, I’m coming!”

He started walking.

“Bro!”

“Alba! Alba!”

They seemed to be quite desperately urging him forward.

“C’mon, relax. What’s with those faces? I said I’m coming!” Alba laughed as he stepped onto the bridge. But that didn’t put the Nite brothers at ease. They only grew more desperate in their beckoning.

...No. They weren’t beckoning him. The opposite? They weren’t telling him to come closer. They were trying to tell him to run away...?

Despite the realization, Alba’s feet didn’t stop. If anything, he started to walk faster. It was as though he was running downhill and the momentum made him unable to stop himself.

“Stop! Alba!” Suddenly, he heard the voice of his sister. “Don’t go! Come back!”

A strong, warm hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him backward. Just before his vision faded to white...Alba saw Okkenite and Seiranite staring back at him, relief on their faces.

†††

Alba choked, throat clogged with a rusty smelling fluid. Blood. The taste of blood in his mouth, the cold sensation around his body, and a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before. What had happened? What happened to him? Forcing his brain to start working, he found himself lying on stone. When he tried to sit upright, he realized his arm wouldn’t move. Or rather, it was missing altogether. Even now there was blood gushing from where his arm should have been. Just trying to breathe hurt. It seemed a slash had gone through his armor and wounded his chest.

But above all he felt a soft warmth on his chest, pushing the pain away.

Oh. I got hit by the Swordmaster.

Memories returned to him. A human swordsman had swung a greatsword, he’d felt a tremendous impact, and then he had passed out. How was everyone else?

Is the prince okay?!

He finally realized the sound of fighting was still all around him. Or rather, his sense of hearing had finally returned to him. Struggling to lift his face, he saw a demon clad in white armor fighting a number of forest elves. But the demon’s movements were clumsy and sluggish, like he might collapse at any moment. A legendary-class barrier had been established around them.

Your Highness!

He had to get moving. Nothing else mattered. He had to save the prince. He had to save Zilbagias. Drawing out his dark magic, he spun a single, thin thread. Using his barely functional right arm to lift his spear, he tied that thread around it.

His mother was from the Arachrana family, which possessed the Bloodline Magic of Heart Sewing. With it they could sew fabric without needing thread, add protective blessings to things, or pull distant objects closer to them.

That old elf...he’s my target!

The elderly elf glared at Zilbagias, clearly intent on attacking. At his feet was a branch sticking out of the ground, just like the one they had found in the fortress. Destroying that might give the prince an opportunity to turn things around. And there was certainly nothing bad that could come of it.

Mustering his last bit of strength, Alba managed to throw his spear. The spear soared through the air, and because it was connected to him by Heart Sewing, he could adjust the trajectory slightly. Apparently this was a skill his ancestors had mastered to be able to wield multiple spears at once, but unfortunately that technique had been lost to time.

But nevertheless, Alba’s aim was true, and he successfully cut down the branch.

“What...?” the old elf blurted out, staring dumbly as the thread around Alba’s spear moved to wrap around him.

“Me Ta Fesui.”

Please, please! Work! Alba prayed desperately.

In no time at all, the pain fled from Alba’s body and his lost arm regrew. Though the tremendous blood loss made him feel a bit dizzy, he could still fight.

“My apologies, Your Highness! I passed out!”

Zilbagias turned wide eyes on him. No doubt he had thought Alba was long dead. And the prince’s face was in terrible shape, seared by holy fire.

He’s wounded!

“I’ll help!” Pulling on the thread he had created, Alba reclaimed his spear.

“Dammit!” The elves fighting Zilbagias all but screamed. “We’re finished! Run, I’ll hold them off! Spirits of the wind...!”

One of the remaining elves threw a blade of wind at Alba as he urged his two companions to flee. Though their faces twisted in frustration, the two nevertheless sprinted away.

“You think I’m going to let you off that easily?!” the prince roared. Transposing his burns onto the elf before him, he struck the elf down before moving to pursue the others, who split in opposite directions.

One of them was foolish enough to run straight toward Alba. With Zilbagias blocking the other escape route, he might have had no other choice, but...

“Spirits of the earth! Lend your aid!”

The paved street beneath them split open, vines sprouting forth to wrap around Alba. Using that opening, the elf would have dashed away to safety...but that was the worst kind of strategy to employ against Alba.

With a soft grunt, Alba effortlessly stepped out from under the vines. His pact with a Devil of Abandon did away with anything that attempted to restrain him.

“Wha?!” The stunned elf couldn’t stop himself before Alba mercilessly ran him through.

The young demon sighed.

I killed another one, huh? The battlefield was surprisingly not as fun as he had hoped it would be. Looks like His Highness gave up on the other one, but I don’t know if I can let him go...

Though, he felt like he was forgetting something rather important.

“Alba! Don’t let the old one escape!” Zilbagias shouted through gasps for breath, pointing at the old elf Alba had transposed his wounds onto. The other, younger elf had hoisted him onto his back and was trying to flee. “Throw your spear or something! Just don’t let all our sacrifices be for nothing!” The prince then collapsed into a coughing fit. His earlier attempt to transpose all his injuries must have not been completely successful. He still wasn’t in good shape.

“Got it!”

What does he mean by “sacrifices”?

Shaking the thought from his mind, Alba took a throwing stance. The elf carrying the old geezer was running in a straight line. With Heart Sewing to guide his aim, it would be an easy shot. The sudden thought occurred to him that this might be a good skill for him to hone in the future.

Alba threw the spear, causing it to soar straight through the air. Together with the magical thread of Heart Sewing, it found its mark.

“Huh?! Gah!” Hearing an ominous sound coming from behind him, the desperately running elf turned, but it was too late.

“I did it! I hit him!”

“You did.” Zilbagias was already running. It didn’t appear as though the spear had landed a perfect shot. Though it had impaled both the old elf’s lower back and the one carrying him, it hadn’t been enough to instantly kill either.

Staggering forward, his usual speed nowhere to be seen, Zilbagias ran up to their side and took off their heads. Before finishing the job, it seemed Zilbagias said something to the old elf. But Alba was too far away to hear what that was. The prince then started searching the elves’ bodies. Was he planning on taking trophies or something?

“Man, thank goodness.” Alba pulled his spear back to his side.

I’m exhausted, he thought idly, stepping forward...when his foot got caught on something.

“Ack...!”

Looking down in annoyance...

“Huh?”

He saw Kuviltal. There was a hole on his forehead. He was entirely motionless.

“What...? Why...?”

No, I have to snap out of it. A moment’s hesitation on the battlefield could mean death. That’s what Kuviltal had taught him, right?

Right! What about Seira and Okke?

“Everyone...?”

He lacked the composure to think clearly. Or maybe he had intentionally forced himself not to. Finally, he remembered. What about everyone else?

He turned.

Rubble was strewn across the street...and it was drenched blue with blood.

Alba screamed. The vision he had seen in his dream came vividly to the forefront of his mind. Why had he been so carefree? It was obviously an ominous sign. And...he saw his two honorary brothers there.

“Okke! Seira!!!” he screamed, but stopped just as he was about to run forward. At first, he thought Seira’s lower body was buried beneath the rubble. But that wasn’t right. There was nothing left from the chest down. Seira had been reduced to something like a bust statue, eyes still wide in shock. Okke similarly sat in a pool of his own blood, everything from his shoulders up cleanly sliced off of his body. Beyond them lay Kuviltal’s men, all mangled to the same degree.

They were all dead. They all had been killed by the single swing of a Swordmaster. An ugly, indescribable black feeling sprang to life in Alba’s chest as he remembered what had happened. He swept his eyes over the area before catching sight of a Swordmaster, lying lifelessly on the ruined street.

“You...!” Alba roared as his burning hatred reached its boiling point. “Youuuuuu!” That corpse was holding a greatsword.

Alba unleashed a howl, as much a scream as it was a roar, hurling his spear at the corpse. The spear thunked into the dead body.

“You bastard! You! You...!”

Dashing over to the body, he drove his spear into the carcass. Over and over again. Memories of the brutal training he had endured with Kuviltal and his men. Memories of growing up with the Nite brothers. All of it erupted in his head, robbing Alba of his sense of self. Tears poured freely from his eyes, blinding him.

“Damn you all! I hate this place! Every damn thing about it!”

Nothing would be accomplished by taking out his frustration on a dead body. Though he knew that full well, it would take a while for reality to set in for him.

This isn’t the future I wanted! This isn’t why I wanted to go to the front lines! I just...wanted to make it big...! I just wanted to take care of my sister and all my little brothers!

“But you guys...everyone...!!!”

Alba sank to the ground, pounding his fists into the paving stones with a pathetic wail. That’s what that dream had been. His little brothers had been desperately telling him not to follow. Alba sobbed, tears and snot making a mess of his face.

Heavy footsteps resounded behind him, causing Alba’s blood to run cold. Another reality came rushing back to him. Slowly he turned to look, finding a tattered, blood soaked Zilbagias.

“Your...Highness...”

“They’re dead. All of them. Every single one,” the prince mumbled, gaze distant as though he were one of the dead he spoke of. “Why did things turn out like this?” He looked down at the bloody mess Alba had created out of the Swordmaster, the prince’s expression matching the lifelessness of the corpse.

Though he didn’t understand why, Alba was suddenly terrified. He lurched back to his feet and took a ready stance. The prince was so much younger than him, had fought the entire time Alba was unconscious, and now stood perfectly calm. Alba couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“I’m impressed you survived, Alba.” The prince turned a gentle look on him.

“It’s...all thanks to him...” Alba managed through another sob, looking back to the fallen Okkenite. “It was just by chance. He happened to be in front of me. So...I...!”

Thanks to that, the Swordmaster’s strike had been slightly dulled by the time it reached Alba.

“Also...the good luck charms my mom and sister made for me...” He searched around his chest. Despite Okke’s body shielding him, Alba’s arm had still been sliced clean off. And yet his chest had pulled through with only a deep gash. Just as he suspected, he found a handkerchief laced with protective magic in his chest pocket. Now it was in tatters, its magic entirely gone.

“It...took my place...” That blessing had used all of its power to protect him, resulting in Alba narrowly avoiding being sliced in two.

Alba began to wail again. He’d thought he had finally somewhat calmed down, but it had been only temporary. The guilt at surviving because of Okke’s death. The relief at having so narrowly survived. The thankfulness toward his mother and sister. All of it hit him at once, bringing the tears right back out of him.

“Your Highness...how did you...?”

“Me? The moment I saw him, I dropped to the ground.”

“Huh? Why...?”

“I expected a long-range, sweeping attack.”

Hearing that, Alba looked back at the mess of a Swordmaster by his feet. How had the prince figured that out? Maybe it should have been obvious. Why else would the Swordmaster have taken such a massive swing when he wasn’t close to hitting anyone? Alba was frequently reminded of the massive gulf between his own strength and Zilbagias’s, and it seemed their experience on the battlefield was going to be more of the same.

“That’s amazing, Your Highness...”

Was this what it meant to treat every moment like a battlefield?

“A moment’s hesitation means death on the battlefield. You can never let your guard down.”

Kuviltal’s words came back to him again.

Right. We’re still on the battlefield. Get your act together, Alba! We’re going to make it big, aren’t we?! I have to carry on for Okke and Seira now too!

He could wail and sob all he wanted after making it back home. Scolding himself, Alba finally came back to his senses. Wiping his face, light returned to his expression.

“I’m sorry, I lost it there for a bit. But I’m glad you’re safe, Your High—”

A dull thunk resounded from Alba’s chest.

Looking down, he saw a blade protruding from his heart.

“Huh...?”

An ambush? Another attack? he thought. Damn! I need to get moving!

But strangely, he couldn’t move a muscle. As the blade slipped out of his chest, Alba fell motionless to the ground. He turned the only part of him that could move, his eyes. There he saw a bright moon hanging in the night sky...behind Zilbagias, looking down on him. The prince was wielding a sword, drenched with blue blood.

“Your...Highness...?”

With those last words, he stilled. The shock never left his face, but his eyes no longer took in the sight before them.

Zilbagias turned his back on Alba, a horrible quiet having descended upon the battlefield. First, he knelt down and touched the mangled body of the greatsword-wielding Swordmaster. He pressed the body with his fist.

Then, he slowly stepped away, picking up the disembodied head of a black-haired woman. Bitter frustration marred her face. Though life was no longer present in them, her eyes were still bright and clear. She must have been overwhelmed with regret in her last moments. It was all too clear in her final expression.

Carrying her head with him, Zilbagias forced his way into a nearby house. It was dark. Silent. No signs of anyone, but...

“Silence is Taboo. Ahhhhhhhh...”

Filling the house with his magic, the prince began to quietly hum, listening closely for any other sound. He was checking if anyone was hiding. With that, he confirmed he was truly alone.

He placed the woman’s head on a table. Dark magic erupted from him.

“Aorat Teihos Po Horizi Ton Cozmo Anixiti...”

As he chanted, a rift opened connecting this world to the next. Before him was a gateway to the spiritual realm.

“Come forth, Kuviltal Rage.” He called a man’s name. A hand of dark magic reached through the gate, dragging the man’s spirit back to the world of the living.

“Where...am I...Your Highness?!”

The demon’s soul, cloaked in dark magic, stared blankly at Zilbagias.

“What... What happened? What happened to me...?”

Zilbagias did not respond with words, but rather by lifting his holy sword.

“Awaken, Adamas.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then the holy sword burst to life. It shone with a brilliant light, pushing back the night as it reclaimed its original form.

“Th-This light...?! Your Highness?! What is happening?!”

Kuviltal’s soul crept backward, instinctively fearful of what he was witnessing. But Zilbagias’s magic held him in place as if he was bound by chains.

“What is that?! What is going on?! Who are you?!”

Kuviltal continued to shout, but without a word, Zilbagias brought the blade down.

The soul shrieked as silver fire enveloped it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Zilbagias delivered a second slash, but this time the soul didn’t make another sound. It had shattered, completely and perfectly destroyed.

“Come forth, Seiranite Rage,” Zilbagias intoned again.

“Huh? Uh, Your Highness? Wait, what happened...?”

Another slash.

“Gaaaaah! Wait, what?! What’s happening?! Your Highness, please, help—!”

Another slash. And then, he was gone.

“Come forth, Okkenite Rage.”

Slowly but surely, the ritual continued.

Heartlessly, mechanically.

“Come forth, Trishtan Rage.”

“Come forth, Asrios Rage.”

“Come forth...”

“Come forth...”

One by one, his subordinates—his companions—were called out and destroyed. And after completing the ritual seven times, then came the final one.

“Come forth, Albaoryl Rage.”

It was finally his turn.

“Your Highness...” The young demon was drawn through the gate. “Why... Why?! Your Highness!”

Zilbagias only answered with a swing of his sword.

“Why?!” The soul screamed as it was sliced in two. “Wh... Why...?”

It shattered, dissipating into the air.

“‘Why’?” At last, Zilbagias gave a dry laugh. “Because everyone is dead.” He then turned to the head on the table.

The gate was still open.

“Come forth...” He stopped himself just before saying the name. The sound of fighting in the distance made him tense up. It wasn’t that close...but it wasn’t particularly far away either. That should have been obvious. The unexpected use of Mythologia Replica would certainly have been like the sudden appearance of a new sun over the city. So of course it would have drawn attention, even more so with it being the dead of night. Whether they were friend or foe, undoubtedly others would come.

“Rest, Adamas.”

Sealing the holy sword’s light, Zilbagias closed the gate. Turning to the head on the table one last time, her eyes were still staring back at him. He reached out to close them...and a tear dripped down her face.

It must have been so painful. So frustrating. She must have cursed the unfairness of it all.

“I’ll come back for you later.”

He then turned, adjusted his helmet, and wiped the blood from his neck. Though the wound had completely healed, a bright white scar remained where the holy magic had burned his flesh.

Stepping out of the house, Zilbagias saw the sky had turned red. Of course, dawn was still far away. One of the fortresses was up in flames. And yet another barrier created by one of the illusory Sacred Trees had fallen.

Yes. The battlefield was set. The battle for Evaloti had only just begun.

His role as a demon prince was far from over.

†††

Charlotte Vidwa gave a soft groan as she opened her eyes to sunlight filtering in through the leaves.

“Huh...?”

She was at a total loss. Where was she? The gentle sunlight filled her with concern rather than relief. Looking around, she was greeted by familiar sights. A church. A tranquil pasture. A cityscape of stone buildings. A village in the backcountry of Deftelos, long before it had been engulfed by the flames of war. It was where she had first met him.

“Oh, looks like you’re awake.”

That voice gave her goose bumps.

“Leo...?” Turning around...

“Yo. It’s been a while.”

Standing behind her, wearing both the clothes of an ordinary villager and a gentle smile, was Leonardo himself.

“Leo...”

“Char...”

“Leo!!!” She had no idea what was happening, but that didn’t stop her from running into his arms. Never before had she been this bold with him. “Leo! Leo!” Using all her strength to wrap her arms around him, she began to sob. Leo returned the hug just as strongly.

His warmth. His smell. His heartbeat. She could feel it. She could feel all of it. Char had wanted to see him so badly. So badly in fact that she had been willing to die for it. And now her wish had come true. Even as she sobbed, she started to thank the gods for reuniting them in the afterlife.

“Looks like you went a bit overboard,” Leo remarked after she had calmed down a bit, rocking her back and forth like he was consoling a small child.

“I’m sorry.” And just like a child, her head drooped before his scolding as she broke the hug. “I knew...trying to get revenge wouldn’t make you happy.” But she’d had no choice.

And besides...I thought if I did...

She had hoped that would hasten their reunion. But she kept that notion to herself.

“Char.” But Leo gave her a sharp glare, as if he could see right through her.

“I’m sorry,” she said while averting her eyes.

That was to be expected, she supposed. This was the afterlife. Attempting to hide things here was pointless. Good and evil would both be laid bare under the brilliant light of the gods. That’s what the Church taught.

As that thought crossed her mind, something seemed off to her. If that line of thinking was correct...and if Leo could read her mind so easily...why couldn’t she read his?

She looked at Leo with an intense stare. The gentle smile he wore had hints of both sadness and loneliness. There wasn’t a single hair out of place compared to the Leo she knew. She was certain this was the same man. But his mind wasn’t at all an open book.

“Well, you see...” Leo murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “You’re not actually dead yet.”

Char gulped. All of the sudden, the world lost its color. The sunlight’s glow was no more, along with the surrounding village. Leo’s warmth, his heartbeat, disappeared.

And Char realized...it was dark. Leo was standing here in the midst of infinite darkness.

“No...” Char shook her head. Not this. Everything was finally over. After all this time, she had finally managed to see him again. She’d thought they’d now be together forever...

“I’m really happy I got to see you again, Char.” He hugged her again, but this time he was lacking in warmth. She felt no heartbeat. But she did feel something warm. “I really wanted to see you. This is like a dream come true.”

“No... Stop!”

“Thank you, Char. You really gave it your all, huh?”

“Stop it, Leo!”

Stop talking like you’re about to say goodbye!

Leo was at a loss for words, evident by his stretch of silence. “I think, in the end, I failed as a hero.”

“Huh...?” And of all ways to break the silence, those were the words he had chosen. Char’s face turned dead serious. “That’s not true at all! There’s not a single hero greater than you!”

He had always stood at the front protecting others. One of his final acts in life had been leading an attack on a demon prince’s camp. If he wasn’t a good hero, then who was?!

“Ha ha, that’s gotta be the first time I’ve seen you get so worked up.” Leo smiled. A gentle, yet hollow smile that silenced Char’s objections. “I did what I thought was right, trying to save as many people as I could,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her again. “But in the end, the one I wanted to protect most of all...was you.”

Char started to feel flustered. Though those words brought her happiness, she couldn’t comprehend how that made him a failure as a hero.

“I wanted to protect you,” he repeated with a stern look. “So I twisted my prayers.”

What was he talking about?

“In battle, it’s expected for a hero to pour every ounce of power into their sword. After buying you guys some time to escape, I should have gone all out to take down the demon prince.”

Char began to tremble, causing her teeth to rattle.

“But...I just couldn’t do that. So I left some of my power for you. Even though it meant I couldn’t go at the demon prince with all my strength, what I cared about most was you getting away. So I distorted it into a prayer that gave you life.”

She was cold. So terribly cold. Her hands and feet went numb, as if blood had left them.

“If I had used all my power properly, maybe I could have beaten that demon prince. But even if I had achieved that, it wouldn’t have mattered if you ended up dying.”

Leo’s gentle face finally twisted into a bitter expression. But just for a moment.

As Char continued to shiver, Leo held her tight. As if to give her one last hug.

“Sorry. I know it was selfish to do that without asking you first. The fates of many lives likely changed as a result of my choice. But you’re the one I want to protect. I don’t regret a thing. That’s why I’m a failure. Because I put you above everyone else.”

Char’s mind started to grow hazy, but she could still hear his words clearly.

“You know, Leo...”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy. I’m happy that you protected me, that you wanted to keep me safe. In that way, I also think I’m a failure as a priestess. If I had been in your shoes, I think I would have done the exact same thing for you. I would have wanted you to live even a second longer if I had the power to do so.”

Leo listened in silence.

“And...while I’m really happy, I don’t think it’ll help.”

“It won’t?”

“I remember what happened to me before I died. Even if I managed to somehow survive...” She gave a bitter smile. The sensation in her limbs, stomach, and back were gone. She was horribly wounded. “I can’t imagine I’ll last much longer. Even if I did, I was in the middle of the battlefield. Surely one of the denizens of the dark will come along and finish me off sooner or later.”

Leo listened to her, only a faint smile to challenge the serious look on his face. He had nothing to say. There was nothing he could say.

“If I do my best, with all my might, to survive and I don’t make it...”

You won’t get mad if we meet again sooner rather than later, right?

She burrowed her face into his chest.

“Of course not. Like I said, I was just being selfish. It’s your life.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, but even that pain was sweet to her. “You have a mission. One far greater, far more noble, than mine.” Leo’s voice turned remarkably solemn.

Char’s face stiffened. “I don’t care! I don’t need any mission!” She clung to him harder. “As long as I can be with you, I don’t need anything else! That’s all I want...!”

“Many people are looking to you for salvation. They need your guidance.”

“No...stop...don’t say that!”

“It’s your mission to bring countless people peace!”

“I don’t care!” she screamed. Leo took her frustration in silence. “All I want is to be with you! I’m exhausted! All the suffering, all the goodbyes... I’m sick of all of it! Being with you...is all I want! Really, that’s the only thing!”

From the bottom of her heart, that’s all she ever wanted. So why? Why was that silver flame starting to burn in her heart? Why was it demanding she rise up again?

“I know you’re timid. Shy. So fainthearted, no one would ever expect to see this silver light in you,” Leo spoke softly, stroking her hair. “But you’re also the hardest worker I know. And you’re also the most caring person I know. That’s what makes you a wonderful priestess. When someone reaches out for help, you grab their hand and never abandon them.”

Char broke down in tears again, beginning to wail. If there was someone in need right in front of her, someone whose life was about to be snuffed out by the denizens of the dark...there was no way she could ignore them. No matter how painful it was, no matter how much suffering she would have to endure, she’d definitely lend them a hand.

The flame in her chest flared brighter. She felt her body being pulled away. Upward. To somewhere else.

“No! Stop! I don’t want this! I want to stay here with you!” She desperately clung to Leo’s arms, fighting with all her might to resist the pulling force.

“Char...” Leo gave her a sad smile. And then the silver fire in her heart spread to him.

“What?! No!!!” Char screamed. Leo was burning, his arms steadily turning to ash. “No! Stop! Don’t disappear!”

She tried as hard as she could to suppress the fire, but it only grew brighter.

“Ah...” His arms finally burned away to nothing. With her grip on him lost, Char was drawn upward, despair having stolen her voice. She watched as Leo steadily shrunk below her.

“Char!” Even as he was drowned in the inferno, quickly turning to ash, Leo’s smile didn’t fade. “I know it’s kind of cliché, but I’ll always be watching over you! I’ll be praying for you forever!”

Waving the stumps that remained of his arms, he kept on smiling...then his face twisted. An expression of agony so great as though he was in the pits of Hell itself. He wanted to say it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted to so badly. So he pushed past the pain.

“Char!!!” Lifting his face, he shouted with every bit of strength left in his rapidly vanishing body. “I love you!”

And then, he was gone.

“Leo! I love—!”

Char squeezed out one last breath.

†††

“I...love...”

The blood that had built up in her throat blocked the words from coming out.

She felt cold. In pain. It was like she had been torn to little pieces.

Thump. Thud.

Dull sounds resounded close by. Were they weapons? Was the battle still ongoing? What had happened to her? These were questions she had no answers for.

She had no way of knowing. Having exhausted all her strength, she had given herself over to eternal rest, only for the taboo on unconsciousness to draw her back to the real world.

The tremendous blood loss made her head fuzzy, barely able to open her eyes. After opening them, they snapped wide-eyed in shock. She was face-to-face with Barbara. Or more accurately, Barbara’s severed head.

No... Barbara?! The haze that clouded her mind cleared, and the soldier within her returned. Why? Did we fail? Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong?

And then the memories of her dream came back to her.

No...it’s not because I’m still alive, is it?

They hadn’t managed to defeat Zilbagias. Was this the fate Leo had chosen?

Why did it turn out this way?

Only moments after returning to consciousness, her heart was already crushed. Guilt. Confusion. It was near impossible to think straight, let alone positively, after losing so much blood. And so once again, her mind was swallowed by the darkness.

But even so, the prayer filled her as the wish to keep the demon prince distracted kept her alive. She could hardly breathe, and her heart had all but stopped. But as much as she tried to die, she just couldn’t.

She was slowly healing, forcing her to stay alive. Slowly the pain and cold she felt was replaced by heat and warmth, Char’s consciousness flickering on and off.

“Oh, look, they just left their gear all lying around.”

“Man, this is a great knife! I think I’ll keep it.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! We agreed to split everything once things wrapped up!”

How long had it been? She heard the vulgar voices of men arguing.

Enemies...?

It was dark. Still night. Judging by their conversation, it didn’t seem they were Alliance soldiers. Still half asleep, she had no idea what state her body was in, and so began to chant.

“Hi...lam...suto...ri...” She coughed, interrupting her incantation.

“Huh? Did you hear something?”

They had noticed her. Her mind was in such disarray that she couldn’t even be cautious enough to maintain a low profile.

“Hey, look at this!” A voice shouted from right beside her. Pain assailed her again as she was forcibly moved. Someone had rolled her over with a kick. Char gasped in pain.

“This one’s still alive!”

“It’s a priest!”

One of the men whistled. “Man, we are on a roll tonight! A high-class enemy to add to our kill count for free!”

“Wait, wait! Look how weak she is. We should take her alive!”

“Take her alive? Why in the world would we do that?”

“What, you want to do a public execution or something?”

“No, idiot. I’ve heard about the night elves giving out money for Holy Church prisoners as of late...and it’s a pretty penny!”

The other two seemed less than impressed.

“Don’t you think the kill count is more important than money?”

“This could land us a promotion. Money won’t do that for us!”

“Come on! Just hold on a second! If that was true, do you really think anyone would be selling prisoners to them? That means they need to offer a big enough price to match the reward we’re giving up!”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The amount they’re offering for a bottom of the barrel priest in training is enough for us to live in the town below the castle for half a year without working a day!” the man hissed, getting exclamations of shock from his companions. “Even though she looks like crap, surely she’s not too shabby for a human, right? There’s no way she’s some low-level apprentice! For her, they’ll give us a hefty sum of money!”

“So we could spend half a year relaxing?”

“In the castle town? Maybe it is worth it for the money...”

They continued to whisper among themselves, but it seemed like they had more or less come to a conclusion.

Char felt herself being tied up, that gross bone-manipulation magic being used to trap her in a tight cage so she could be carried. She grunted in pain as they gagged her, preventing Char from even biting her own tongue.

“Nice! Let’s get out of here before the Alliance shows up or something!”

“I can’t wait to see how much she fetches us!”

“You sure she’ll make the trip? She looks like she’ll kick the bucket before we make it back to camp.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” another replied flippantly. “We just need to find some other human and transpose her injuries onto them. She’ll be in tip-top shape in no time.”

“Oh, yeah! But if she’s in too good shape, won’t she try to fight back or kill herself?”

“Hmm. Guess we shouldn’t completely heal her, maybe just halfway. Man, this might actually be a pain.”

“Let’s just ask the night elves! They’re the experts at this.”

“Ooh, great idea! Actually, how about we just hand her over ASAP?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“You guys are so smart!”

The demons’ vulgar laughter filled Char’s ears as she was swung to and fro.

What...how...

So much for her “grand mission.” Captured alive by demons so she could be sold to night elves? That was her fate?

Please, let me die... she begged from the bottom of her heart. Since Leo had wished for her survival, killing herself wasn’t exactly one of Char’s options. But even so, she still hoped for death. She knew it would be a better end than this.

Let me die... Why won’t you just let me die?

She couldn’t care less about her mission. All she wanted was to be with Leo. Biting hard into the gag, she begged through her confusion. Sorrow, indignation, grief, all of it mixed together in a hot stream dripping down her face.

Was it tears? Blood? She couldn’t tell anymore.

Chapter 3: The Prince’s Accomplishments

At the demons’ main camp, Commander Beteranos Rage sighed as he swept his gaze over the burning city from a hilltop.

“I told them to avoid using fire...”

The Demon King had instructed that they keep as much of Evaloti intact as possible. Apparently, the Corvut family had raised complaints in the past about rebuilding cities that had been conquered due to the excessive damage as a result of the fighting.

Of course, the Corvut family weren’t forced to put in this amount of work for free. When their services were called upon, they could rest assured they would be paid handsomely. So much so that their wealth now rivaled or exceeded most of the nobility. After all, construction work within the kingdom was also one of their responsibilities. The Corvut family had expressed they didn’t need money or rewards; all they wanted was some rest. So the Demon King had started taking measures to lighten their workload. Both to accede to that request, and to help stabilize the balance of power between the noble families.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped Evaloti from going up in flames.

“I guess there is no sense in grumbling.”

It was pointless to try and dissuade those proficient in fire magic to not use it. On top of that, humans use plenty of fire themselves. All in all, there really wasn’t much they could do about it. The fortresses surrounding the city were fine to destroy. But in the worst-case scenario should the city be reduced to ash, Beteranos could expect a sarcastic remark or two from the king.

Beteranos gave a heavy sigh as the reports kept coming in from the Izanis family messengers.

I miss fighting on the front lines...

After he had reached the rank of marquis, Beteranos had found himself plateauing there. Understanding he needed to take a step back so the young could make a name for themselves, he had retired from the fighting and taken the role of commander, but...

I can’t say I’m well suited for this role.

He missed the thrill of cutting down enemies and the excitement he had for the rewards that awaited him, all without a care in the world for whether or not the city was engulfed in flames. But when he thought about it like that, there had to have been someone filling the commander’s chair. Someone groaning and grumbling about every small development back when Beteranos had been out there wreaking havoc and having the time of his life. Not that he remembered who it was.

He sighed again. “Getting old is no fun, is it?”

As his gaze turned distant, yet another of the enormous trees of light winked out.

“Oh, they took down another one?”

Another fortress had fallen. That meant only one was still standing. They had almost finished conquering all six fortresses surrounding the city.

Things were progressing far quicker than anticipated. It seemed losing the fourth fortress so early in the fight had thoroughly shaken the resolve of the defenders. The demonic army had originally planned to take the city within five days’ time. But, at this rate, it was looking like three might be more realistic.

As expected of Pratifya’s son. What a boy.

According to the reports, Zilbagias had led the charge despite it being his first deployment, taking down huge swaths of enemy troops—including numerous heroes and Swordmasters—all on his own. He had been the first to take down a fortress, thus making the prince instrumental in bringing down the barrier protecting the city. It was a huge accomplishment.

Pratifya will be thrilled. Count seems a bit low. He is virtually at the rank of marquis already...

Beteranos smiled wryly as the young prince was on his mind. The prince possessed powerful magic, and his accomplishments spoke for themselves. There was no doubt he’d soar through the ranks. But no matter how much of a prodigy Zilbagias was, Beteranos couldn’t help but feel ashamed to see a man so young...or rather, a child so young rubbing shoulders with him as an equal.

All right, enough of that.

If that’s where his strength put him, that’s where he belonged. Beteranos hated jealousy and envy above anything else. In particular, he hated the way the older, more experienced demons had tried to crush the up-and-comers during his younger days. He wouldn’t allow himself to follow in their footsteps.

Zilbagias had taken a short break after taking the fourth fortress, then quickly moved into the city itself. There was a good chance he had accomplished even greater things already. Though whatever strength the defenders still had was unknown, it probably wouldn’t be long before that last fortress fell.

“No...” Beteranos looked up at the sky. The arrival of spring also meant shorter nights. It wouldn’t be long before dawn peeked over the horizon. “Hmm...it may be worth it to continue the attack on that fortress.”

Should he prioritize capturing all six fortresses on the first day, or should he pull his forces back, gauge their losses and reorganize as he had originally planned? If he forced them to rough it out until morning, he could expect quite a bit of backlash from the other clans...

“A new report, sir! His Highness Zilbagias has returned!” one of the Izanis messengers called out, pulling Beteranos from his thoughts.

“Oh, he’s back? I wonder how well he did.” Though Beteranos answered with a wry smirk, the messenger’s face had gone quite stiff, signaling something was definitely awry. “What’s wrong?”

“Um...His Highness’s eight men...were all killed.”

“What?!” Beteranos’s jaw dropped. Zilbagias’s retainers had been wiped out?!

Absurd! Those fools from the Oryl family are one thing, but Kuviltal was with him!

Within the Rage family, Kuviltal and his men were among the strongest. Kuviltal in particular was an elite among the elite thanks in part to his Corvut blood. And yet he had fallen in battle?

“Is Zilbagias okay?!”

“Yes sir. He returned on his own two feet. However...there’s a noticeable scar on his neck.”

Beteranos traced a finger down the side of his own face, along his own scar which had been left as a result of holy magic. If a scar remained on a Rage family warrior’s body, it was certainly due to that.

But on his neck? He obviously had gone through quite the struggle. At the very least, if he had been able to return to camp using his own strength, surely that meant he wasn’t in dire straits. If he had by some sick twist of fate died in battle, never mind the shame it would have brought on their family—Pratifya herself would have strangled Beteranos to death.

But even so, what exactly had transpired?

“He will be here shortly,” the messenger said before running off. As Beteranos waited, he felt a strange magic approaching.

Ah. That is why the messenger looked so off.

Beteranos could tell at a glance. The boisterous soldiers who had returned to camp and were bragging about their accomplishments all fell silent as he approached. It was like a winter wind cutting through the camp.

“Your Highness...” It was indescribable. His face, his eyes, were completely different from before he had set out for battle. Beyond that, it was obvious at a glance that the prince’s magic far exceeded Beteranos’s own. If he was a viscount with the strength of a count before, he was now every bit a marquis.

“I’m back. Surely you’ve already heard the news, but Kuviltal and the others were killed,” Zilbagias declared, voice flat. Beteranos had expected the prince to react with grief or wild anger at the loss of his retainers. Instead it was like he was looking at a lump of cold steel.

“What on earth happened?”

“We encountered a group of the enemy elites in the city. A Swordmaster led the charge. One swing of his sword leveled all the surrounding buildings.”

“Ah...” Beteranos had heard reports of a particularly troublesome Swordmaster guarding one of the fortresses. After the fourth fortress fell, he must have been drawn back into the city.

“Besides him there was a forest elf monk, archers, numerous priests and Swordmasters, Fistmasters, and”—Zilbagias paused—“heroes.”

Thus, his party had been wiped out, he explained.

“One of my retainers managed to survive the initial attack and fought alongside me to the very end as we eliminated the enemy squad. Though, right at the end, he also fell in battle.”

Zilbagias’s face was blank. Though it almost looked like... No, it must have been Beteranos’s imagination.

“That retainer would be Kuviltal, I imagine?” the commander asked.

“No, it was a young man by the name of Albaoryl. After avoiding the first Swordmaster’s attack, another launched a follow-up strike, killing Kuviltal.”

“I see...” Beteranos’s gaze then shifted to the prince’s neck, now marred by a bright white scar. He was at a loss for words. Upon closer inspection, he couldn’t see the whole thing... It didn’t go all the way around his neck, did it? “Your Highness, that scar...”

“Oh, this? Yes, I almost died. They managed to sever my head momentarily.”

Beteranos was struck speechless. He had been beheaded, by holy magic no less, and had managed to recover with Transposition?!

“By the way, I see there’s only one fortress left. Will it be an all-out assault from here?” Zilbagias asked, looking over the distant battlefield.

“No...it is almost daybreak. We need to survey our losses and reorganize our forces before continuing the attack.”

It was about time for the soldiers to make their way back to camp, but far fewer were returning than Beteranos had expected. Perhaps the winding city streets obscured the sky from them.

“I see. Very well, then.” Zilbagias nodded. “In that case, I will rest and prepare for tomorrow.”

“You still intend to fight?” Beteranos blurted out despite himself. While it was true the prince had already garnered enough in the way of accomplishments on the battlefield, the greater matter at hand was the loss of all his retainers.

“Is there a problem with that?” Zilbagias replied, his tone even. It was as though he couldn’t fathom why Beteranos might object.

“No...if that is what you wish,” the commander replied, stunned.

“Then please excuse me.” Zilbagias turned and marched off, his feet strong and steady.

Pratifya...who is this boy?

Beteranos’s shoulders sagged as he watched the prince leave. And only then did he realize the weight of his nervousness. Nervous, talking to a child.

But...there was no faking that aura. His face was that of a powerful warrior who had survived real combat.

“I am glad you are safe,” Beteranos murmured, giving the prince a small bow.

Collecting himself, Beteranos turned back to the vista of the burning capital. The mixture of the flames’ illumination and the first rays of dawn cast a bloodred light across the city.

“The fighting for today has come to an end,” he murmured to himself, stroking his beard. “But still, not many are coming back.”

Reports on the returning groups who had been sent into the city were few and far between. What were they doing? Were they lost? Beteranos gave a wry smile as he wondered idly. But as the sun climbed higher, reaching above the rooftops of the city, those reports still never came. His idle curiosity soon gave way to shocked disbelief.

†††

Morning light washed over the ruined streets of Evaloti. Rubble was scattered throughout the streets while the walls and paving stones were slick with blood. And of course, there was no shortage of bodies. Not just belonging to the Alliance’s forces either. The wide-eyed corpses of night elves and demons lined the streets in droves as the morning sun climbed overhead. Their bodies were marked by deep gashes which showed signs of burning.

Any experienced soldier would recognize those wounds with just a glance. This was the work of a hero.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness.”

Shortly after the sun began its ascent, Zilbagias emerged back onto the parade ground, having been summoned by Beteranos.

“It’s no problem. I have yet to fall asleep anyhow.”

“I am glad to hear that. There’s something I would like your opinion on,” Beteranos said, a bit relieved at the seriousness in Zilbagias’s reply. Under normal circumstances, any demon would have been long asleep by now, but the previous night’s excitement meant a number of demons were still up talking late into the morning.

However...as much as they had made incredible gains during the first day of fighting, a heavy atmosphere lingered over the camp. It went without saying why. The bodies that lined the parade ground did all the talking. And not beastfolk, nor ogre bodies either. Demons.

“These are the bodies we were able to retrieve. There are many who are still missing,” Beteranos explained, a hint of frustration in his voice. “If the missing do not return...this will be the greatest loss in the history of the Rage family.”

Members of the Rage family could erase their wounds as long as an enemy was in the vicinity, meaning their casualty rate was exponentially lower than those of other demonic families. Losses of this degree were entirely unprecedented.

“Among the four hundred demons that joined the battle, almost a full tenth of them did not return. That is simply unheard of. Combined with the losses suffered in the attacks on the fortresses...I cannot begin to imagine what transpired on the battlefield.”

As Beteranos lamented their losses, Zilbagias stepped over to inspect the corpses. Beyond the slash and stab wounds...they were all marred with distinctive burns.

“Holy magic?” the prince said, reaching for his own neck.

“Precisely. But strangely enough, their bodies were found in areas with no indication of intense fighting. It appears as if most of them fell to ambushes and surprise attacks. Quite terrifying developments.” On the battlefield, results were all that mattered. Beteranos was seasoned enough to know better than to describe surprise attacks and the like as merely cowardly tactics. “You mentioned that you eliminated a squad comprising Alliance elites. What were the heroes in that squad like? Did their strength stand out in any way?” The commander turned a quiet gaze on the prince.

“No idea.” But Zilbagias gave a snappy response.

“What? No idea?” Beteranos echoed Zilbagias’s flat response.

“The enemy soldiers were all strong. It goes without saying that the heroes were, but so were the priests, the Swordmasters, and the mages. But I’m afraid I don’t have much to compare them to as this is my first deployment.”

“Ah...I see.” Beteranos nodded, convinced.

“But...a thought did occur to me.” Zilbagias crouched down beside one of the bodies, putting his hands over its wounds as if using his fingers to measure them. “Look at this.”

The prince drew his sword, reminding Beteranos that he did in fact use a hero’s sword for combat. And as Zilbagias placed the weapon next to the body’s wounds, Beteranos saw what he meant immediately.

“All the wounds are entirely different shapes. Like this one here is much larger while this one is much smaller.” The stab wounds left on the demons clearly spoke of the shape of the blade that made them. It was evident the injuries came from a myriad of weapons.

“It seems to be the work of many different heroes. Or perhaps Swordmasters with holy blessings,” Zilbagias said, a distant look in his eyes. “My unit was wiped out by an initial attack from a Swordmaster. Though I was able to survive, others like this...wouldn’t have been so lucky. That’s all there is to it.”

“I see,” Beteranos said. “It appears we will need to be more cautious.”

Alternatively, it was possible the defenders of Evaloti had specialized in combat of this nature. They had underestimated Deftelos due to it being such a small nation, but the Alliance had been given ample time to turn Evaloti into a death trap. Additionally, demonic forces had no way of knowing if the ones responsible for killing these men were the ones that Zilbagias had defeated. Meaning they could still be out there ready to fight, or they could have been killed elsewhere. In the end, there were basically no answers to any of these questions.

“Thank you for your insight, Your Highness. It has been quite enlightening.”

“Glad to be of service. If that’s all, then please excuse me.”

Returning to his feet, Zilbagias marched back to his tent. He was so levelheaded for a man so young...for a child so young. Had the upbringing Pratifya provided him been that fruitful? Or had the shock of losing his comrades yet to surface? The fact Beteranos couldn’t determine either way was impressive in its own right.

The commander heaved a sigh. If those missing never returned, the responsibility would fall on Beteranos himself.

I’m really not cut out for this, he thought to himself, turning a despondent look up at the bright blue sky.

†††

Zilbagias gave a wordless nod to Virossa, who was standing at the ready in Swordmaster mode just outside the entrance of his tent, before slipping inside and dropping down onto his bed. He turned a look on his side table, but otherwise made no move for it. The food sitting there had long grown cold, not a single bite missing from it.

“Seems changing swords was the correct course of action,” Ante said, her illusory form appearing beside him.

Zilbagias replied with a silent nod.

Watching him from the side, she recalled the blasphemous massacre that had occurred within the city. As much as he loved his swordspear, Zilbagias had instead chosen to use the weapons of various heroes he scavenged from across the battlefield to bring down his “enemies.” Though some were dwarven-made, none matched the quality of Adamas. Nonetheless, he had continued to swap between them without complaint as they broke. All he had to do was attach the soldiers’ bones to the hilt and swing them around.

You really did well...

Ante had provided him with her full support. They had utilized every possible method at their disposal to silence all witnesses and to ensure no evidence was left behind. Zilbagias had created a taboo on spearmanship, while Ante had placed a taboo on fleeing over a wide area. The demons had all let their guard down since he was a demon prince, leaving them ripe for the killing. He had repeatedly swapped weapons to make it look like the work of different squads, and had even fused bones to the bottom of his boots to disguise the tracks he left.

Then, in order to search for enemies, Zilbagias had placed taboos on hiding, silence, and fleeing. He had smoked out more than a few night elf hunters that way. After killing them, he had drawn their souls out with Necromancy to interrogate them, only to learn they had come to investigate sounds of fighting and hadn’t witnessed the fighting itself.

And, of course, he had thoroughly destroyed the souls of those he killed. Not only those of the night elves, but also those of every single demon as well.

Not that I imagine Enma would ever revive any demons...

Demons had a strong cultural and religious aversion to being turned into undead. Enma would probably avoid doing so to prevent worsening the relationship between the undead and the demonic kingdom. Though she had declared that she’d turn Zilbagias into an undead should he fall in battle, that was likely a promise that had taken a lot of guts to make.

And even if she did summon a demon’s soul to interrogate it, that information isn’t something she could use openly.

Should word spread of her toying with the souls of demons, Enma’s position within the demonic kingdom would immediately crumble. So she would have no choice but to keep quiet. That said, there was nothing to be gained from providing Enma any sort of edge over him. So safeguarding Zilbagias’s secret was still the best course of action to take.

And so he had annihilated all of their souls, turning them into fuel for his Taboo. Powerful holy magic could damage the soul itself. That was why Enma used magic to create a protective shell around herself. The fact the night elf souls were being entirely destroyed spoke only of the tremendous strength of the heroes the demonic forces were up against in Evaloti. There should have been no cause for suspicion.

Though slightly under forty in a single night appears to be his limit.

That was Zilbagias’s kill count. Any larger parties of demons he had to let go, only cutting down those wandering around alone or in small groups.

Still, that will undoubtedly be a heavy blow to the demonic kingdom.

Ante looked over at Zilbagias again.

So...don’t be so depressed.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say those words out loud. She couldn’t offer him any half-hearted consolation. There was still far too much fighting to go. If he were to return to his usual self now, he could very well break for good.

“Your food has grown quite cold by now. After all that exertion, you need to eat something. Otherwise you won’t be able to efficiently perform tomorrow.” Instead she urged him to eat, motioning to the side table.

Zilbagias gave no response.

With a small sigh, Ante materialized into a physical body for once.

“Here, open up.”

Taking the plate of food in hand, she stabbed a sausage with a fork and brought it to his mouth. But the prince didn’t budge.

“Your body won’t be in any state to keep up if you don’t eat.”

Living like some kind of parasite in his body, Ante had an even greater understanding of his physical condition than Zilbagias himself.

“Eat.”

With no response from him, she had no choice but to force the food into his mouth. If she left it at that the food would just come tumbling out again, so she grabbed his jaw and forced it up and down as if to imitate chewing.

At that Zilbagias finally gave in and started to chew of his own accord. While Zilbagias could do nothing but stare at his own feet, Ante heroically continued bringing food right to his mouth.

“There, now you have eaten. Would you like some water?”

He slowly nodded. With his stomach now full, Zilbagias seemed to be opening up a bit. He was able to drink the water entirely on his own, taking each mouthful slowly. It was like he had left himself out on the battlefield.

“Open your mouth. I’ve got cleaning to do.”

Letting his teeth decay would be unbecoming, so she took it upon herself to clean his teeth for him using a toothpick. He certainly wouldn’t do it if left to his own devices.

Without a word, Zilbagias flopped over onto his bed, boots still fastened tight to his feet.

“You can’t even take off your equipment first?” Ante gave a wry smile as she reached to take off his boots...before feeling the protective magic present. The blessing that had been woven in by Albaoryl’s mother and sister.

Without a word, Ante untied the boots and slipped them off his feet. She then sat down beside his pillow, putting his head on her lap.

“This feels much nicer, right?”

Though he didn’t reply, he did shift his head a little to get comfortable. He then closed his eyes and went perfectly still.

Zilbagias wasn’t asleep. There was no way he could be. But even so, Zilbagias did his best to rest his body. After all, soldiers needed their rest. As much as they could get in the brief interlude before the fighting resumed.

†††

Deep in the interior of the castle in Evaloti was a heavily guarded meeting room. Lining the walls were elaborate tapestries and the portraits of the past kings of Deftelos. The room did not contain a single window, a countermeasure against snipers. A chandelier hung from the ceiling as it shone a magical light across the extravagant glass table, inlaid with wooden mosaic, that dominated the room. Every piece of furniture in the room was a work of art. But in contrast to the resplendent furnishings, the room was overcast with a quite solemn atmosphere.

Representatives of the Alliance and the leadership of the Kingdom of Deftelos faced each other in a painful silence. Sitting at the head of the table was an older man who stood out particularly for how haggard he appeared: his white hair in disarray, his eyes sunken, his face pale and wrinkled, his bony fingers tightly gripping his chair as though they were the only thing keeping him seated upright.

This was the king of Deftelos, Ossmeier XIII. As his name suggested, he was the thirteenth ruler of the kingdom, a kingdom whose glorious history seemed like it was on the brink of ending.

“We couldn’t even hold for one day...” The king’s soft murmur nonetheless echoed in the otherwise silent room.

The Sacred Tree Alliance had brought priceless branches from the Sacred Tree itself, using them to form an enormous barrier that protected the six fortresses which themselves protected the capital. Even if they weren’t able to hold off the demonic assault indefinitely, they had expected them to hold for at least a week while inflicting devastating losses on the attackers in the meantime.

And yet Fort Fhor had fallen within mere hours. One of the trees falling, acting as such an obvious sign of defeat, had sent shock waves through the defending forces. That had likely started everything. Only a short few hours later Fort Faib had followed suit, with Fort Shiks not far behind. Demons had begun pouring into the city, resulting in the defenders moving to stop them. The defenders’ forces being pulled every which way together with the falling of so many of the barriers had devastated the Alliance’s morale, and Fort Thaad had soon crumbled.

And just as dawn was breaking...

“Fort Firs has also fallen,” the hawkish defense minister moaned. The only remaining fortress was Fort Sikind on the west edge of the city. It was hard to appreciate the irony that the fortress expected to see the bulk of the fighting was the last one standing.

“It has to be those monks...” A high priest from the Church sighed, taking a sip of his now-cooled tea.

With the sun in the sky, the demons and night elves had retired from the battle, but the beastfolk and ogres continued to batter the fortress. The daytime forces had now started pouring into the city too, taking up positions to begin a siege on the castle itself.

It was no exaggeration to say that the fate of Deftelos would be decided that night, and anyone who laid eyes on the king’s horrid state would quickly understand they had not even a modicum of chance to turn things around. The fortresses that had been their last ray of hope had fallen, and the elites defending the city proper had suffered enormous losses. Plenty of rank-and-file troops remained, but the loss of the Swordmasters and heroes was too much to bear.

If they had been able to hold out a little longer, perhaps they could’ve expected their neighbors to offer reinforcements...but now it was clear Deftelos was doomed. Surely their allies would be reserving their forces for self-defense. Just as Deftelos had done when their other allies had fallen. Not a single one of them could utter any sort of criticism against their current allies for doing so.

“What is the current state of Fort Sikind?” Sick of the silence in the room, a small, muscular man spoke up. His full beard made it obvious he was a representative of the dwarves. “We can hardly just abandon it. Personally, I believe we should break them free while we still have sunlight.”

“I agree.” Speaking up with a nod was Heleina, an elf representing the Sacred Tree Alliance. Though she usually carried a melancholic gloom with her, she now had a distinctly deathly pallor. She didn’t belong in this seat. It should have been “gramps” sitting there—Ordaj.

But his body had been found the night before. Honestly, she should have been happy they had been able to find his body before the night elves did. But they had no time to mourn their losses. On account of her bloodline, Heleina had been immediately promoted to take his place. Even with her obvious depression, the fact that she would agree with a dwarf without so much as a word of complaint spoke to the grave nature of their situation.

“I agree as well, Your Majesty.” Another middle-aged man stood from his seat, his strong voice trying to fill the painfully quiet air. That man’s name was Ossmeier XIV, the son of the king—usually referred to as “Little Oss” to differentiate him from his father. Though he was technically next in line for the throne, with the fate of the kingdom in the balance, he had taken to the front lines to command himself. He was a reasonably competent and fairly well-liked man. “Give the order, and I will take the royal guard to rescue the soldiers trapped in Fort Sikind at once.”

After giving his son a long stare, the king turned to Heleina. “Should we abandon the fortress, what will become of the barrier?”

Heleina took a while before responding. “It would be...a great challenge, but it is technically possible for us to remove the branch and move the barrier elsewhere.” They could have surrendered the fortress without a second thought and used the spare branch Ordaj had brought...if he hadn’t already used it. Ordaj had come face-to-face with an enemy so strong he felt he needed to use it, and still ended up dying. “But should we do that, the monks will no longer be useful as combatants. Or if they are already exhausted, they will be unable to move the barrier in the first place. I believe abandoning the fortress means abandoning the barrier as well.”

“I see,” the king said with a small nod, his gaze falling to the table.

The wooden mosaic worked into the glass tabletop depicted a map of the Kingdom of Deftelos. To the west was a fertile region, producing large quantities of grain. To the north and east were densely forested areas, making them rich sources of meat and herbs. To the south was a large river that entered the kingdom and acted as an essential channel for trade to flow to and from the kingdom. Such a resource had been leveraged to develop Deftelos’s technology and culture immensely, culminating in the beauty that was the capital of Evaloti.

But now, the west was entirely in the hands of the Demon King’s army, the capital was in the process of being reduced to rubble, and the east was packed full of refugees that had lost their homes.

Why? Why my generation?

Why had their prosperous kingdom met such a fate? The king couldn’t bear to face his ancestors now. Aside from the lone tear streaking down his face, Ossmeier XIII could have been mistaken for a wax figure.

“Your Majesty,” once again Little Oss spoke up with a firm tone. As if to say, “This is no time for crying.”

But when the king lifted his face—when Little Oss saw the strength in his gaze—the king’s son immediately straightened his posture.

“Send the royal guard. Rescue the soldiers in Fort Sikind.”

“Yes sir! I will lead the effort personally—”

“Absolutely not. Leave it to the captain of the guard,” the king cut him off, voice resolute. “As of this moment, I abdicate the throne,” the king declared. “I name my son, Ossmeier XIV, as my successor. In deference to the present state of danger, the succession ceremony is concluded with this.”

The king—the former king—then turned to face the elf and dwarf representatives. “As dear friends of our kingdom, I would like to ask that you two stand as witnesses.”

“...Very well.”

“As you wish.”

The two long-lived representatives stood, then made formal bows.

“Ossmeier XIV.”

“Sir.” The new king stood straight, snapping out of his confusion.

The former king regarded his son with a proud, if sad, smile. “Reorganize the defenses. Once the forces from Fort Sikind have been liberated, use them as the core of a formation to break free from the city.”

“You mean...” They were abandoning the capital. That’s what the former king was proposing.

“The fall of Evaloti is inevitable. Still, there is no sense in simply allowing ourselves to be slaughtered along with it. We will use whatever means necessary to be a thorn in the Demon King’s side for as long as possible.”

And then, a moment later...

“But we cannot forfeit the futures of the young. The noble families still in the capital shall be compelled to send a successor with the escaping army. Furthermore, any children below the age of thirteen are to be prioritized in the evacuation, regardless of nationality. Each may be accompanied by one parent. All soldiers and militia with children are to be assigned to the escaping army, and permitted to rest until tomorrow morning.”

“Then the escape will be...”

“Tomorrow morning, as soon as the demons retreat from battle. Gather all needed supplies at the parade ground. You will charge from the east gate and punch through the enemy encirclement there. Us left behind will make every effort to support you.”

Us left behind. Those words filled the former king with a bizarre vigor, as if his previous exhaustion had been a lie. As if he had returned from the land of the dead.

“Ossmeier XIV, as the fourteenth ruler of the great Kingdom of Deftelos, lead your people.”

After a short silence, the new king replied, “Yes sir.”

“The fall of Evaloti does not signal the end of Deftelos. You shall revive it from the ashes. No matter how brutal the path, you must persevere. And one day, fly the flag of Deftelos over this city once more.” A coughing fit interrupted the king’s fervent speech, leading to him sagging back in his chair. “That is...my last wish.”

“Yes sir! I will fulfill your final wish, even if it costs me my life!”

“Hey, I just told you to survive.”

The king couldn’t help but jest at his son’s sign of utmost respect. A quiet chuckle rippled through the gathered ministers, lightening the mood in the room even if just a little.

“I am afraid this old dropout will have to ask the rest of you to remain here,” the former king said, looking to the rest of the kingdom’s leadership. They responded with bitter smiles and comments like “That was my plan from the start” and “My bad back wouldn’t let me run away anyhow.”

They were not just ordinary humans. As nobility, each of them possessed magic far greater than the average human. Though they were not professional soldiers, they still had the ability to fight. And if they were going to participate in the siege, there was no time like the present to show why they were the nobility.

“And for you two, representatives of the Dwarven Federation and the Sacred Tree Alliance, I ask that you lend your aid to Ossmeier XIV.” The former king turned to the two foreigners as a solemn look took to his face once more. He wanted them to accompany the escaping army and help protect his people. Heleina gave a lifeless nod, while the dwarf gave a bitter scowl.

Dwarves were always treated like this. Prized for their skill in blacksmithing, they were always among the first to be evacuated when the fighting got bad. So while the dwarf representative was glad they were looked upon so highly, dwarves were warriors as much as they were blacksmiths. The trueforged armaments they wielded made them a force to be reckoned with in any siege or defensive formation.

And yet, things always turned out this way. Their axes, hammers, and armor ended up always being looked at as no more than decoration. As long-lived as the dwarves were, they found themselves thrust into this position often. Always being forced to leave their friends behind. And each time it hurt more than the last.

But...

“As you wish.”

Protecting the escaping people of Deftelos was still an important mission. Plus, it’s not like us dwarves are all that fast, the representative thought, quietly swearing to take the rearguard.

“That is all, gentlemen. Things will likely start to get hectic. We must free the soldiers from Fort Sikind, prepare ourselves thoroughly for the morning, and survive one more night.”

“Sounds like quite the challenge. For all our hard work, we ought to get some kind of reward,” one of the ministers joked.

“There is plenty of rare wine in my room.” The former king laughed along with him, folding his hands in his lap. “Let’s reward ourselves with it in the morning.”

Shortly after, the royal guard sortied from the castle, striking at the encirclement surrounding Fort Sikind. The magically infused armor of the royal guard made the beastfolk, ogre, and even devil soldiers no more than trivial obstacles, allowing them to crush the miniature siege with ease. Delivering exceptional damage to the enemy forces, the stalwart defenders of Fort Sikind continued to fight as they retreated, leaving not even a single wounded soldier behind.

The tree of light protecting Fort Sikind winked out, and no trace of the barriers once defending the capital remained... But just as the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, a tree of light emerged once again over the castle, lending its powerful defensive properties to the defenders one last time. Heleina and her forest elves had once again put their unbreakable spirits on display.

Wavering light akin to an aurora filled the sky as twilight fell...and the darkness of night closed in all around it. There was a well-known saying: Every night had its dawn. But one could just as easily say...

Night would always come again.

†††

As the second night of the battle descended, a flurry of activity erupted in the demonic army. Demons preparing for battle and night elves organizing themselves into units started making their way into the city. Never mind the night elves, even the demons walked with strained expressions. The first day’s losses they had suffered were hard to miss.

Of the two hundred that had stepped foot in the city itself on the first day, more than sixty never made it back. An additional twenty or so had fallen in battle in the assault to take the fortresses. The sheer scale of their losses had the demons reeling. On top of that there was no shortage of those wounded, but with the Rage family making up the majority of the force, virtually all of them were immediately back in fighting shape.

In total, of the four hundred demons that made up the core of the army, eighty had been killed instantly at some point during the fighting. Someone among the enemy forces possessed the strength to take out demons without allowing even the slightest opening for the use of Transposition.

Word spread of Zilbagias’s unit being wiped out by a single squad of Alliance elites. The prince had meted out his revenge on them, killing the enemy squad to the man. An abundance of hero and Swordmaster corpses was enough to prove his deed. But they had no idea if that same squad had been responsible for the demons’ brutal losses.

As the demons returned to the fight, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they might meet the same fate. While most of the demons had treated the battle like a party, seeing it as a chance to make names for themselves, now they headed off to war in the truest sense. Now their lives were on the line, just as much as the night elves and beastfolk at their side.

A crescent moon looked out over Evaloti. An enormous tree of light stood over the castle, its protective aura wrapped around the battlements. The denizens of the dark had already taken up positions encircling the castle, and snipers were beginning their efforts on the enemy’s watchtowers.

“Are you really going alone?” Marquis Beteranos asked the prince one last time as they looked out over the city from the camp.

“Yes.” Zilbagias Rage nodded curtly. He had already equipped his white dragon scale armor, his helmet strapped tight.

“Please let at least one other accompany you. I can assure you my subordinates will not let you down.”

“I appreciate it, but the sentiment is more than enough,” the prince declined without so much as a thought. “My subordinates...I spent all winter training with them. Anyone else would get caught up in my magic and they wouldn’t be able to fight effectively.” Zilbagias looked up at the castle in the distance. “It’s easier if I’m alone. So, I’ll be fine.” A shade of tragedy tinged the prince’s otherwise steely mask. Even a veteran like Beteranos had no words to offer him.

“But...if something were to happen to you, I would have to answer to your mother. If others getting ensnared in your magic is the primary concern, then at least bring a guard to follow at a distance. I beg you to reconsider—” It was an ill-omened thing to say on the eve of battle. Despite knowing full well how rude it was, Beteranos persisted.

“If something were to happen? That’s just learning on the job. This is a fight to the death. If they kill me, that simply means they were stronger.” But the prince gave nothing. “Besides, my mother is a powerful woman. I doubt she worries herself over every possible scenario I may face on the battlefield. She’s probably lounging back at the castle without a care in the world. Or so I’d like to believe,” he finished with a wry smile.

“I am not so sure about that,” Beteranos replied, casting his eyes into the distance again, knowing very well just how out of reach the prince was on this. “You have accomplished more than enough in this battle. Why do you feel the need to go to such lengths?” he asked without thinking.

Zilbagias was the first to have conquered one of the fortresses defending the city, and had brought down plenty of heroes and Swordmasters. Even if this hadn’t been his first deployment, he could expect marvelous accolades upon his return. He seemed to be acting far too recklessly, even if he was intent on avenging his subordinates.

“Why?” the prince snorted. “Because I need to overcome the Demon King.” His reply was curt but serious. The prince’s will made of steel manifested in his words. “I will become the strongest warrior in the kingdom.” A burning red glare turned on Beteranos. “For all those that have died. Is that not reason enough?”

Beteranos could only surrender the point in silence.

“That’s all it is.” With that, the prince shouldered his spear, beginning his march to the battlefield.

And at that point, Beteranos came to a realization. Someone like Beteranos, who was ordinary and had survived countless battles thanks to sheer luck, couldn’t be more different from the prince. Zilbagias was a true victor. Upon the battle’s conclusion, the prince would easily climb to the rank of marquis, and he would keep climbing to even greater heights before long. If he survived.

But Beteranos closed his eyes and wished the prince good fortune as he had nothing more to offer him, watching the back of a child shouldering a resolve far greater than his frame.

†††

Heavy impacts shook the castle’s walls. Magical attacks from demons and catapults manned by beastfolk rained down incessantly on the castle gate and watchtowers. However, the barrier of the Sacred Tree that the forest elf monks had established and continued to fine-tune over the castle absorbed most of the attacks’ shock.

The fact the walls were still shaking despite the barrier was terrifying in its own right—if it were not for the barrier, the castle would likely have been already reduced to a pile of rubble—but there was not a single person left on the Alliance’s side who would cower at that.

“Fire! Fire!”

From atop the walls, Alliance soldiers responded to the perpetual onslaught with a ferocity of their own. Soldiers with injured legs used the crossbows liberated from Fort Sikind, forming teams of snipers and reloaders to unleash an assault on the approaching enemy soldiers.

Meanwhile militiamen dropped chunks of rock and debris down at those attempting to scale the wall, splitting their heads open. When a devil managed to punch through the barrier, they immediately ganged up on the creature until a hero or priest could arrive to dispatch it.

“Damn, stop moving around so— Guh!”

One of the men aiming his crossbow suddenly slumped over, a black-feathered arrow burrowed deep in his left eye. The arrow had killed him instantly. While the job of the crossbowmen might have seemed easy as they casually rained down fury on their enemies while others reloaded their weapons, they were actually in the most dangerous position.

“Let’s change position. I’ll take over next.”

Gritting his teeth, a soldier missing his left arm picked up the fallen man’s crossbow. The rest of his squad nodded as one, moving to another window in the watchtower as they continued pulling back on the crossbows’ strings.

“Rrraaaaagh! Take this!”

Meanwhile, in the gatehouse directly above the castle gate, soldiers poured boiling oil on demons and night elves attempting to break through.

“Gaaaaaaah!”

“Agh, it’s hot! It’s hot!”

The cries of agony from the night elves starkly contrasted with the shocked shouts from the demons, clearly demonstrating which of them had magical protection. But that attack didn’t end there.

“There’s more where that came from! Eat up!”

Alliance soldiers sneered as they gave the demons a second helping of boiling oil as they poured the pot through a hole in the floor of the tower.

“Aaaaaah! Dammit, this is oil!”

“Roast ’em!”

And then a lit match descended upon them. The oil ignited in a flash, giving birth to a raging inferno in front of the gate.

“Dammit!”

“We’ll remember this!”

Demons with singed hair and light burns threw curses at the defenders as they fled from the gate. Their attempts at using Transposition to transfer their burns to the attacking soldiers proved futile as the light of the Sacred Tree interfered with their curses. And as the demons quickly fled from the scene, the night elves and beastfolk accompanying them made a smoldering heap in their wake, long since dead.

“Damn, they’re still kicking just fine even after oil and fire.”

“This is why I hate demons...”

The Alliance soldiers moaned and grumbled as they moved the pot back onto the fire and refilled it with oil in preparation for the next assault. The area in front of the gate was still burning bright. Not even a demon would dare try to push through those flames, and if they did, they’d meet the same fate as all those before them.

That’s what the soldiers thought.

“Hmm?”

But one of the soldiers noticed something was wrong, turning to look through one of the openings in the floor. While they had looked away, the merrily burning fire had been extinguished.

And then the soldier saw a flash of silver. He gave a soft grunt as a blade soared into his open mouth and punched through the back of his throat, pinning him to the ceiling. The way his body drooped made him look like some kind of grotesque chandelier. If there was any saving grace, it was the fact that he had died instantly.

“What...?”

The other soldiers looked on in disbelief as the man they once knew was now hanging before them. Pinning him to the ceiling through his mouth was a faded white spear. No, not quite a spear. Instead of a typical spearhead, there was a sword.

The haft of the spear began to flex. Unbeknownst to the soldiers, that spear was made of bone, something demons could manipulate freely with their magic. On top of that, these bones had a will of their own, and made every effort to assist their wielder. In this case, pulling that wielder up into the air.

A silver white shadow jumped up into the tower.

He knew.

He knew that the gatehouse would be layered with protective magical wards. The presence of such powerful magical defenses meant the soldiers inside could drop burning oil and rubble on the attackers with impunity. As such, it was a post much more likely to be manned by common soldiers than elites. And since the holes through which they made their attacks were only large enough for a child to fit through, they didn’t have any grates or bars.

In other words, it was a fairly fragile defense if a child was capable of getting up into the air.

“My name is Zilbagias Rage,” the boy declared, dropping the dead soldier from the tip of his weapon. “Seventh Demon Prince, and bringer of ruin to this land.”

The spear howled.

“Fuel me.”

And then the gatehouse was awash with fresh blood.

†††

War cries closer to panicked screams filled the air around Evaloti Castle’s outer wall as soldiers threw themselves into the fray down a narrow path made for messengers, barely wide enough for two people to stand side by side.

In sharp contrast to their panic, the demon prince they faced regarded them with a terrifyingly calm and collected gaze. With a casual thrust, the prince’s spear pierced through not only a shield, but also the soldier holding it with ease.

Screaming a curse and showered in his comrade’s blood, another soldier pressed on. Using his shield to press down on the prince’s spear, he closed the gap as much as possible. Long weapons like spears were terribly ill-suited for the narrow spaces like this corridor. A sword, however, was far better suited for situations like this.

But the prince didn’t even hesitate as he lashed out with his empty left hand. The punch hammered into the soldier’s chest, knocking the wind out of him even as his armor absorbed most of the impact. While the soldier was stunned, the demon prince choked up on his spear, wielding it like a sword, before delivering a quick thrust through the soldier’s neck.

Blood gurgled from the soldier’s mouth as he collapsed, grasping at his throat. There were already enough bodies filling the corridor to make walking next to impossible.

Zilbagias stopped to think, wiping the blood from his weapon. Though he could regard the gate tower as being effectively conquered, it was possible some had fled to seek out reinforcements. Should he wait around to meet those reinforcements, or should he jump back down and break open the gate?

If his objective was to end the war swiftly, opening the gate was definitely the correct strategy. But if he desired more fuel for his power...the prince would be better off killing as many enemy soldiers as he could manage.

A heavy clank sounded from behind him. Zilbagias spun around, catching the sight of someone in the darkness of the corridor. And there was something black, so dark even his eyes as a demon couldn’t make it out. Battlefield instincts sent a shiver down his spine, prompting him to immediately drop his head.

Something struck his helmet with a weighty clang. It had felt like he had been hit with a hammer. He could see the soldier in the corridor had thrown down his weapon, and was now grabbing another—

“Piercing is Taboo.”

Another clanking sound filled the air as the prince ran down the corridor, using his blade to protect his face. Getting caught by Zilbagias’s magic, the projectile lost most of its momentum before striking him in the side. Syndikyos deflected the attack like it was nothing, but a dull impact still reached the demon prince through it.

“Dammit!” The soldier cursed, throwing down his weapon and reaching for yet another. But before he could lift it from the ground, Zilbagias’s blade found his neck.

“What is this?” Zilbagias picked up the strange contraption. It was a weapon, a metal bow strapped to the top of a wooden cross. The prince had no knowledge of the crossbows the dwarves had invented.

He tried pulling the trigger. The short, wide bolt loaded into the crossbow fired with a loud clank. Face darkening, Zilbagias turned his gaze back to the weapon in his hands. The soldier using it had been missing one of his arms past the elbow.

“He was crippled...” And yet he had been able to fire such ferocious arrows.

Even though his curse had dampened the impact, if Zilbagias hadn’t been wearing armor, it likely would have punched right through him. It being dwarven-made meant it had a bit of magic in it. Still, it was many times easier to use, and many times stronger, than any bow.

“Silence is Taboo. Ahhhhhhhh...”

Scoping out the area for enemies, he tried pulling back on the string of the crossbow. It was quite hard. Extremely hard. Which made sense seeing how the bow itself was metal. Its draw strength was akin to that of a night elf bow. Such exertion was no issue for Zilbagias with how much his magic strengthened his body, but a demon of a lesser rank would certainly struggle with it.

“So how did humans manage to reload it?”

Lying on the ground next to the dead soldier were two more of the same weapon. Also nearby was some kind of device with a large...crank? He had to assume it was used to help in reloading the crossbows.

Looking over the weapon again, burning its construction into his mind, Zilbagias then turned his spear and destroyed not only the weapons but also the reloading device. He didn’t want knowledge of these to spread.

The demons likely wouldn’t pay them much mind. At most, they’d probably use them as toys. Night elves would likely just destroy them due to being furious that the humans had weapons on par with their own. Though they’d surely take thorough notes before doing so. Beastfolk might take a real interest in these weapons...but that would be infringing on the domain of the night elves. They wouldn’t be able to make use of them in any greater capacity.

The real issue was the undead—or more specifically, Enma.

The greatest strengths of the undead were their physical toughness and sheer numbers. It was exactly the kind of army this weapon would be perfect for. If Enma got her hands on something like this, she would likely devise some sort of mechanism to make the crossbows reload themselves. And before long, she’d send some of them out into the field for testing. A whole army raining down bolts with the strength of a night elf’s arrows would be a nightmare.

Such a shift in the balance of power between the undead and the rest of the demonic kingdom would threaten to destabilize Enma’s position. Even so, the prince imagined she would proceed in developing the weapon nonetheless. And in so doing, the testing that would inevitably result in the loss of more human lives. The best course of action for him was to keep his enemies from expanding their options.

But the humans had to have more than just these three crossbows.

“Looks like I’ve got more work to do.”

Before making his way into the castle proper, he’d have to hunt down and destroy as many of these crossbows as he could find. Since destroying them all was likely impossible, Enma would probably learn of their existence eventually...but the more he could delay that discovery, the better.

Nodding to himself, Zilbagias ran alone down the corridor. Judging by the nature of the weapon, its primary use was likely in watchtowers for optimal sniping. Thus he set his sights on crushing those. As he predicted, he found numerous crossbow-wielding snipers positioned in each watchtower. Dispatching them quickly, he made sure to thoroughly destroy their weapons.

Stopping for a moment, he took a bottle of water from the belt of a dead soldier. Just in case, he checked it for poison with his magic ring before swallowing a few mouthfuls, then dumped the remainder over his head to wash the fresh blood from his armor.

“Now then.”

Descending from the watchtower, Zilbagias returned to the corridor. He could hear the sounds of fighting not far away. But a demon having already broken into the castle and using their messenger paths would be the last thing the defenders would expect. Most of the people Zilbagias encountered as he ran were common soldiers, but at one point he did come across a priest going around and treating the wounded.

“A demon?! Hii—”

The prince cut him down before he could bring his magic to bear. The elites were likely doing their best at the top of the wall. There were few of them to be seen down in the messenger hallways. Zilbagias made no effort to hide his presence, but he cut down those he encountered so fast and moved so quickly that the heroes never made their way down to challenge him.

As the priest fell, a hateful glare in his eyes, Zilbagias hurried on ahead. But the stairs he found next were larger than the ones leading up to the watchtowers.

“Another gatehouse?”

Apparently he had made it halfway around the castle before realizing it. But that was no issue. At least, he thought it shouldn’t have been as he raced up the stairs...

“Huh?!” The moment he reached the top of the stairs, one of the defenders immediately met his gaze, eyes wide. “A demon?!”

Bloodthirsty glares turned to Zilbagias from across the room, and the prince found himself freezing in place. Because now in front of him...

“Everyone, on guard!” Upon the bearded soldier’s roar, the short defenders in magically gleaming armor fell into formation...axes and hammers at the ready.

The prince was now faced with those skilled in both the forge and combat—a unit of forgeknights, clad in trueforged armor.

†††

“As long as I wear that armor, I will never harm a single dwarf.”

So declared Zilbagias Rage, the seventh demon prince, to the dwarves at the Demon King’s castle.

†††

The demon prince froze at the unexpected encounter. Not letting the opportunity slide, the dwarf at the head of the formation charged with a roar, swinging his hammer.

Of course, it was no ordinary hammer. It was a trueforged weapon, one created by a master smith with the infusion of their very soul. Despite the brutal silhouette of the hammer’s head, it was also inlaid with remarkably intricate and somewhat eccentric detail. Not to mention it made the prince’s hair stand on end with the way it swelled with magic. The weapon’s threat was palpable, setting off the prince’s instinctual alarms.

With a shout, the dwarf swung the ancestral battle hammer with all his might, still a full ten paces away from his target. But as if it was a given, the weapon still struck true. A single blow was all it took to shatter the prince’s defensive wards.

Another dwarf stepped up, swinging his axe sideways with a howl. An invisible slash lashed out at Zilbagias...but demons could sense magic. He knew taking the attack head-on would mean certain death. The bones making up the haft of his spear rippled backward, forming a skull-like shield around his left arm to block the attack, but it wasn’t enough. The invisible strike immediately tore through the bones, losing none of its strength as it ripped into Zilbagias’s side.

But, Syndikyos’s brilliant white scales flashed as they took the blow...and held firm. Of course, the impact’s strength was still enough to send the prince staggering backward. At the same time, a flat line was gouged out of the wall to either side of him.

“What?!”

“He survived that?!”

The dwarves couldn’t hide their shock at the sight of one of their greatest magical weapons failing to eliminate its target. Zilbagias, meanwhile, ran a hand down the white scales of his armor.

This thing is incredible...!

Though the prince possessed great magic, he had never expected to take a hit from a trueforged weapon and come out without so much as a scratch. These were the strongest possible weapons those of other races could hope to get their hands on. And in deference to Zilbagias keeping his oath to never harm a dwarf, the obstinance of the armor’s craftsman shone through.

“What an incredible piece of armor!”

“Did one of us make that?!”

“That glow...it’s white dragon scales!”

Bloodthirsty eyes pinned the demon prince down where he stood from all angles.

“Hey, demon! Where did you get that armor?!” one of the dwarves shouted, glowering beneath his helmet. The prince was quite taken aback, not expecting such a question on the battlefield. But this time the dwarves didn’t capitalize on the opening, only inching closer as they waited for his answer.

They really can’t help themselves, can they? Zilbagias thought, smiling for the first time that day. Though it was a faint, small thing.

“The Demon King’ s castle. A good smith there made it for me.” Since he couldn’t hurt the dwarves, he took his time responding.

“A dwarf?!”

“Of course.”

“What’s his name?!” The dwarf’s nostrils flared as he stepped closer. But Zilbagias hesitated to answer. Mentioning Fisero’s name could forever stain the craftsman’s honor. Providing such an incredible piece of equipment to a sworn enemy would have him branded as a traitor—

“It’s no secret you cowards capture our people and force them to work for you!” the dwarf roared, spittle flying. “You lot don’t even give them a choice but to work!”

“But despite working against his will, he still made that unbelievable piece of armor! We need to know who it was!”

“He couldn’t be any ordinary smith! Is he a Saintsmith?!”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve never heard of a Saintsmith being taken captive...”

Raucous voices argued back and forth, as if this weren’t a battlefield but a dwarven forge Zilbagias had stumbled into. The prince gave a wry grin. For the dwarves to be so taken by his armor, it spoke to the piece’s marvelous composition. He couldn’t help but feel happy about that.

That was even more reason why he couldn’t hurt them. They were such great people. And without a doubt this armor would play an essential role in his battle against the other demon heirs, never mind the Demon King himself. There was no way he could break that vow...

“Your Highness, what happens if you break your vow?”

The sudden recollection of a young man’s question hit Zilbagias like a lightning bolt, causing him to stiffen. A memory of when a certain idiot was getting the stuffing kicked out of him by Pratifya during their “special training.”

“Its magical properties will disappear, of course. It’ll just be a hunk of scales tied together. Basically garbage.”

That had been Zilbagias’s reply.

“Oh, that would be a big problem!” The serious young man had exaggerated his astonishment.

“We cannot allow such a wonderful piece of workmanship to be reduced to garbage!” his younger brother chimed in.

“If any dwarves show up”—the one who styled himself as their older brother clapped a fist to his chest—“just leave them to us!”

They had then lifted their spears in the air and laughed...without a care in the world.

“Killing dwarves is a waste anyway, so I’d prefer to avoid fighting them in the first place. But if we’re forced to fight them in close quarters, I’ll leave them to you.”

That was how he had replied back then. But he couldn’t imagine those three idiots ever beating this unit of dwarves decked out in trueforged weapons and armor.

Zilbagias lurched backward, face pale. He was nauseous. As much as he tried to cover his ears, the laughing wouldn’t stop. Not just that...the laughter was...getting louder. He was starting to get dizzy. Then he felt something, like heavy footsteps approaching.

“What is it?! What’s his name?!”

“Wait, something’s wrong...”

“Looks like you’ve left us no choice.” The dwarves shared a look as they watched the trembling demon before them.

“We’ll have to take a look for ourselves,” another dwarf muttered.

The giddy atmosphere around the dwarves immediately vanished as they shifted back into a battle-ready formation. One of the dwarves grunted, swinging his trueforged axe once again. There was nothing invisible about this strike—it was very much physical.

Zilbagias’s face shot up, eyes wide, as if he had just been on the receiving end of someone’s scolding. As the broad, razor-sharp axe reached for the prince’s neck, Zilbagias lifted his swordspear just in the nick of time to block. A loud clang resounded as the holy sword was almost torn from his grip, but he was barely able to hold on to it.

“What?! What is that blade?!”

The dwarven smiths were once again flabbergasted as the old, worn blade deflected the strike of a trueforged axe. That wasn’t much of a surprise. But this was a truly dauntless holy sword, one that had survived trading blows with the Demon King’s Lance.

“The spearhead...no, it’s a sword?”

“I get the armor, but what is that?!”

“What is happening here?! I need to see it! I have to know!”

As the dwarves started to get heated up once more, Zilbagias’s composure ran dry. All he could do was turn and flee.

“He’s running?! Get him!”

“You call yourself a demon?! Fight!”

“Let us see that sword! And that armor!”

The dwarves stormed after him, rushing down the stairs.

“Waaaaaiiiiiit!”

The first one to make it out swung his hammer at the demon prince’s back. Though there was already a distance of ten paces between them, the invisible blow slammed into the prince nonetheless. The prince’s defenses shattered instantly and he was sent tumbling, but he wasted no time jumping back to his feet and continuing to run, not so much as glancing back.

“Wait!!!”

“Dammit, we can’t catch up!”

“You coward!”

Armor rattled as the dwarves attempted their pursuit, but there was no making up for how slow dwarves were.

A deep rumble filled the air as the whole castle started to shake.

“What?!”

“Did they break through the west gate?!”

The dwarves stopped, sharing a look.

“Forget chasing him! We have to hold the east gate!”

“Back! Get back!”

“Dammit...that armor...and that sword...!”

“Give it up, idiot!”

The dwarf with the hammer took a few jabs to the head from his companions as they returned to their post. He took a glance down the corridor, but the demon prince was long gone, swallowed up by the darkness.

†††

“Your Highness! Leave it to us!”

Stop it.

“We’ll fight in your place, Your Highness!”

Stop it!

“Why won’t you let us fight, Your Highness? Why?”

Shut up!!!

“Why? Why...?”

Innocent, playful voices bounced around in Zilbagias’s head over and over before gradually taking a more haunting turn.

“Why... Why did you... Why...”

Why did you destroy us, Your Hiiighneeeeeess?!

“Leave me alone!!!”

Zilbagias screamed as he ran, racing up the stairs into one of the watchtowers. He was just trying to get as far away from the voices as possible as they reached up to him from the depths of the earth.

“Whyyyyyy? Your Highneeeeess, whyyyyyy?”

But even as he reached the tower’s peak, the voices wouldn’t stop.

“It’s your fault, Aleeeeeex! You did thiiiiiiis!”

“Why did you kill us, Aleeeeeeeex?!”

At some point the voices of his old friends mixed into the madness. Countless hateful voices. Those of everyone who had been killed by Transposition for his training. Those of the hero’s army he had fought back in the Rage family territory. Those of Barbara and Hessel, who he had cut down with his own hands...

All of their voices rang in his ears. Endlessly, endlessly ringing.

Zilbagias screamed, throwing away his spear and covering his ears with his hands. But no matter how loudly he cried, his voice couldn’t wash out the ones tormenting him. His bloodshot eyes happened across something on the ground. A discarded bolt from one of the crossbows he had destroyed.

Continuing to wail, he reached for the bolt like a drowning man reaching for safety. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stabbed it into his own ear.

“Aaaaahhhhh! Stop! Stoooooop!!!”

He jammed the bolt into his ears over and over, blue blood spraying around him.

But not even that relieved his agony.

“Whyyyyyy, Your Highneeeeeeess?”

“Whyyyyy, Aleeeeeex?”

The voices wouldn’t stop.

“Please... Please...!”

Covering his ears, he crumpled to the ground, shaking his head weakly from side to side.

“Please...I’m begging you...”

Blue blood poured from his ears, mixing with the pool of bright-red human blood at his feet...staining it all black.

†††

Yo! It’s me, Zilbagias, the prince of the demons.

Would you happen to know where I was right now? I just opened my eyes and here I was. Was this...some kind of tower? Not only was I surrounded by dead bodies, but I was also drenched in blood. It was kind of gross. Also I couldn’t hear a thing and my ears were killing me to the point I was feeling nauseous.

What’s going on here?

“Long time no see.”

Oh, you again? The devil god Antendeixis, right? Has it really been that long? Last I remember, I was escorting a cute little forest elf puppy out of the night elf prison. We headed back to our room, I got in bed, closed my eyes, and now I’m here.

“Over half a year has passed since all that.”

So, it’s actually been a while. Give me a second as I try to get my memories back in order the best I can.

Okay... So I’m leading the attack on Evaloti. My memories are kinda all over the place, so I don’t have a good read on the situation. But I suppose it’s best not to think too much about how my retainers died, or how so many demons have been killed in the city?

“Considering your personality, you are better off not knowing such things. It helps a great deal that you are so understanding.”

Honestly, compared to our previous little stint, I’ve got tons of time to think now. This works a whole lot better for me, Miss Devil God.

So, what’s up? Why do you need me? What happened to my original personality?

“Quite a lot, actually. He has reached his emotional limit. Guilt drove him to self-destruction, to the point he unconsciously sealed his own mind away with the magic of Taboo. As a result, you have returned.”

I see. And what’s the deal with my ears?

“He was being tormented by auditory hallucinations, so he mutilated himself. All in an attempt to try and escape them.”

Huh. Sounds like things got pretty bad. Was he going to be okay? Now that she mentioned it, I did have a short arrow in my hand covered in blue blood... Had he been using this on his ears? Anyway, my original personality had a lot going on, so it was now my turn for a bit. That much I got.

So, what do you need from me? I have this strong feeling like there’s something I have to do, but I have no clue what that thing actually is. It’s an awful feeling. Please, tell me what to do, Antendeixis.

“His primary objective was to push ahead of the demon king’s army, killing as many of Deftelos’s defenders as possible by his own hand. Your original personality intended to acquire much power by violating many taboos—”

Okay, okay, that’s enough. If you say too much, I might piece together who I really am. And that’s the last thing we want, right? I’m Zilbagias, the prince of the demons. That’s for the best, should you need me in the future, right?

“Yes, I suppose that is true. Apologies for my carelessness.”

Don’t sweat it. I don’t plan to dwell on it either.

“Your perceptiveness could be a problem in its own right. Though you are quite different from your original personality.”

Probably because he’s caught up in his own bundle of preconceptions, right? He should be just as smart as I am. For better or for worse, my sense of self is really underdeveloped, so I can only analyze things objectively. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. What should I do now?

“His second objective was to seek out as many of humanity’s new weapons as he could and destroy them.”

This thing, huh? Something to launch these small arrows? Are they that scary?

“They allow even those frail humans to fire arrows with strength matching those of night elves. To demons, they would merely be toys. But in the hands of the undead, they could prove to be an issue. Though even if he successfully destroyed all the ones on this battlefield, it would only be a matter of time before knowledge of them spread.”

Ah, countermeasures for Enma. That makes sense. That’ll make it easier for me to work as a demon prince. Got it. I’ll get right on it, then. By the way, my ears are still killing me. Plus, not being able to hear is quite the inconvenience. Guess I’ll have to find someone to transpose my injuries onto. It’s okay for me to kill people, right?

“You’ve already thought everything through, haven’t you?”

Oh, not at all. I just feel a sense of...hesitation.

“That hesitation, as faint as it may be, is the source of my power.”

Oh. I see. In that case, okay. I’ll get to killing. After all, it’s in a demon’s nature to long for power.

“Though, be sure to know your limits. I wouldn’t want you to also suffer a mental breakdown.”

Don’t worry about it. The feeling isn’t any more awkward than having to put down a dog or a cat. You got that, Miss Devil God? Keep an ear out for me.

“Very well. I can already hear footsteps below us. Sounds like enemy soldiers.”

Okay. Also, you could’ve warned me earlier!

Grabbing my swordspear, I rushed down the stairs.

I immediately came across a group of human soldiers who pointed at me and started shouting something.

“Sorry, I’m a bit deaf at the moment!” I reached out with my magic, ensnaring the leader of the group. “Me Ta Fesui.”

The sudden agony made him drop his sword, blood spurting from his ears. With that I was finally relieved of my ear pain, allowing me to think clearly once again. That helped a lot.

“My bad.”

Bringing my blade down, I split the leader’s head in two, putting him out of his misery. My ears were still a bit clogged with blood, so I couldn’t hear all that well quite yet.

So I’m still counting on you, Miss Devil God.

“Why are you so relaxed?! There’s a hero right in front of you!”

Huh? Oh, that guy in the back? He did seem to have a bit more magic than the other soldiers. And he was sprinting right at me while holding out his shield for some reason.

“Lampsui!”

Blinding Light!

Suddenly, my vision turned blindingly white. I couldn’t see anything.

“Approaching is Taboo!” the devil god shouted. “Fall back!”

Got it.

First of all, I needed to do something about my vision, so I reached out for another nearby soldier.

“Me Ta Fesui.” And then my vision was restored.

Running over the soldier now clutching at his eyes, the hero clad in silver light was rushing toward me. The magic of Taboo had frozen him in place, but only for a moment. He was now shouting a blessing, the silver light surrounding him intensified as he forced his way through the curse.

That’s pretty impressive.

“Now is not the time to be impressed!”

My first thought was to add my own curse to the mix...but there was one problem—I couldn’t use Taboo at all. This was because my original personality was still using it to seal his memories. The fact that we were considered the same person from a magical perspective despite being entirely separate from a personality perspective was kind of interesting—

“You are on the battlefield! Cut it out!”

Right, my bad.

“My name is Zilbagias Rage, Seventh Demon Prince.”

So instead, I decided to use Naming. All at once, I felt my magic grow outward. Even as the charging hero’s face stiffened at the sight, clearly overwhelmed by my sudden transformation, he nevertheless continued with his attack.

“Slashing is Taboo!” But his blade slowed midair.

I casually sidestepped his swing. “Sorry.”

I replied with a quick thrust of my spear...but the hero managed to deflect it with his shield by the skin of his teeth. Infused with magic as it was, the swordspear easily cleaved through the shield, scattering pieces of it everywhere as it punched clean through the arm holding it. The hero grunted in pain, but his eyes were still anything but dead.

“Flas!”

Let there be light!

Apparently the shield had been some kind of feint as the hero’s holy sword began to glow. With a bright flash, silver light sprayed over me like water. Though my armor deflected most of it, some got onto my face. And damn, did it burn.

This is holy magic?!

“What the hell was that for?!” I snapped, swinging my spear with pure brute force. The hero was caught midthrust, doubling over my spear as he was sent flying into the wall behind him, leaving a bright red splash behind him. What a splatter.

The previously blinded soldier had seemingly recovered, shrieking as he now had a clear view of the hero pasted against the wall. His recovery was short-lived as I gave him the holy burns on my face before smashing his head in.

“The hero is down! Ruuuun!”

The other soldiers started to scream and turned tail.

Wait, you bastards!

“No, you wait! Stop, stop! Don’t chase them!”

Huh? Why not?

“Your fighting style is terrible! You’re leaving openings left and right! What’s wrong with you?!”

Well, y’know...this is my first fight.

“Ah...” The devil god was at a loss for words.

Probably as a result of all the training my original personality had done, it was clear my body was used to fighting...but the actual knowledge in my head was all scattered. I had no experience, so I was basically fumbling in the dark. Though my magic was a lot stronger compared to last time, meaning I could get by with brute force.

“Right...so this is your actual level of ability...” the devil god muttered, her tone rather disappointed. “If you encounter a monk or any squad of elites with a Swordmaster among them while in this state, you’ll die. Avoid combat as much as possible and focus on destroying those weapons. We may need to consider retreating as well.”

I was getting the same impression.

I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for any escape routes. I’m counting on you, Miss Devil God!

“I have never been so anxious in my life...”

†††

The plan to avoid fighting as much as possible ended up being pretty straightforward. Luckily, avoiding the monks and other elites of the Alliance was quite easy.

“Magical resistance is Taboo.”

Miss Devil God put up a wide-ranging curse with that effect. That was it. A sphere with me at the center that would be resisted by anyone strong who happened to step inside.

“Hmm. More resistance. Fifty paces ahead of you, up and to the right. There are multiple.”

Since the devil god lounging around inside my head used that power to sense the world around her in the first place, she could easily pick up on the exact position of anyone who resisted her curse. If anyone powerful got even remotely near me, I booked it.

If there was any downside it was the fact this method of scoping out adversaries couldn’t distinguish between Alliance soldiers, demons, night elves, and devils. Also Weaponmasters didn’t have any magic at all, so if they were acting on their own, they would be undetectable.

I can hear some pretty vulgar sounding laughter. Are those demons?

“So it appears. I suppose you can ignore them.”

I hear fighting too. Must be a hero.

“Indeed. Though it appears he has just fallen.”

If you listened closely to the sounds of the battlefield, it painted a good picture of what was going on around you.

“Do not forget to listen out for their footsteps.”

Of course, that was my main focus. It would be pretty strange for a Swordmaster or Fistmaster to be walking around alone without even a protective blessing from a priest or a hero. Even though I didn’t think it was a big deal because of that, I kept my guard up just in case. Not that it really mattered anyway. Any Swordmaster actually up to snuff would be able to sneak up on me with ease. It was mostly just for peace of mind.

So I went on my way, visiting the various watchtowers around the castle while avoiding anyone with any relative strength. I figured I had taken out most of the mechanical bows (what I had decided to call them for now) that my original personality had missed.

But with so much of my attention on avoiding contact with powerful enemies, it ended up taking quite a bit of time. Being constantly on guard was exhausting. Apparently my original personality didn’t mind, but our body was exhausted too. So I made my way back to our forward operating base in the city and engaged in a bit of dinner.

Even out in the field, we had a luxurious barbecue set up for us. It was so good! Just like during our training in the Rage territory, a beautiful array of roasted meats was available right here in the middle of the battlefield. It was terrifying in its own way.

“Your Highness! You are okay!” Just as I was finishing another skewer, a rather seasoned looking demon noticed me and sighed with relief. What was his name, again? Beteranos Rage? He was the field commander, right?

“Yep. I’m surviving, somehow,” I replied casually, biting into another chunk of meat. Beteranos met my reply with a few surprised blinks. Oh, did I mess up?

“You seem much more...cheerful than when we last spoke. Has something changed?”

Aw crap.I forgot all my retainers are dead.

But turning gloomy again would be even weirder, so I kept up my current facade.

“Yeah. With all the fighting going on I had a bit of a change of heart. Being all mopey wasn’t helping anyone. And everyone watching from the other side wouldn’t be able to rest easy with me looking all pathetic, would they?” I stopped for a moment, flashing a weak smile. “I want to take some lives in their memory. They died fighting bravely, so that seems like a proper send-off.”

“Your Highness...” Beteranos’s mouth tightened as he was evidently fighting back tears. It seemed he had acknowledged my original flippant reply as empty bravado. Good.

After a quiet sniffle, Beteranos continued. “But Your Highness, I would implore you not to push yourself too much. Your armor is already drenched with blue. You must have been through some rather fierce fighting.”

Naturally, he must have been assuming that I had been badly injured. But of course, as I was a member of the Rage family, injuries like that were only ever temporary.

“Yeah...well, I came across a pretty strong hero. Aside from that, it’s been mostly small fry.”

“A strong hero?!” Beteranos’s eyes widened. The attention of everyone in the room immediately shifted to me.

Uh-oh. Did I mess up again?

“Perhaps...is that the one who has been wreaking havoc on our forces throughout the city?!”

Was it? Man, how am I supposed to know that?

“He was clearly a master with some sneaky tricks up his sleeve. Not to mention he managed to burn my face with his holy magic.”

“He was able to harm someone as powerful as you?! So there was a hero who specialized in sneak attacks, as we suspected!” Beteranos was nodding.

Okay, I’m getting through this!

“I can’t say for sure. At least, I wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions here,” I replied with a stern look. “If we assume that strong hero is dead when he’s not and let our guard down, we’d be laughed at for generations to come. ‘Fear not the powerful, belittle not the weak,’ right?”

“Indeed. I could not have said it better myself.” Beteranos gave a wry grin as he nodded. The surrounding demons also murmured about us being cautious.

Good, good.

“But either way, dawn will soon be upon us. The battle’s climax is nearing,” Beteranos said, looking up at the sky. I followed his gaze upward. The small piece of sky we could see through the city’s buildings crowded around us had started to lighten. It was almost sunrise.

“How’s the situation?” I asked.

“Most of the castle walls are under our control, but a unit of dwarven forgeknights are making a firm stand at the east gate. Besides that, the Deftelos nobility and the last reserves of the royal guard have hunkered down in the central palace, making it quite hard to approach. In an ordinary battle, it would not be strange for the defenders to offer their surrender after being surrounded like this...” Beteranos said, scratching at his beard as he looked over the castle. “But enemy morale still seems quite high. There is no sign of them giving in yet. Either they are expecting reinforcements, or they still have some secret strategy in the works. Both the rank-and-file soldiers and the militia are still fighting tooth and nail, so we have been unable to take any proper prisoners for questioning.”

“Hmm. That’s unnerving,” I said, staring at the castle as I gulped down another mouthful of rather diluted wine from my glass.

While it wasn’t on the same level as the Demon King’s castle, the structure was still impressive in its own right. There were flames here and there, and goods were still being pulled out from the places where the demonic army had taken full control. But even so, the illusory sacred tree was still shining strong and a number of the watchtowers were still fighting back. Large stones, boiling oil, and burning feces were still being thrown down at the attacking army. There was no room for relaxing just yet.

And then, a tremendous roar filled the air, echoing from the far side of the castle.

“What was that...?!”

“Report! Report!” A magical wind carried loud shouting to us as Beteranos scowled. “The east gate has been destroyed by the defenders! The royal guard and a unit of dwarven forgeknights are charging out—guh!”

The report was abruptly cut off, the magical wind dying down.

“Not good! This was their goal! Everyone, move to intercept!” Beteranos stormed off, shouting for another messenger while the resting demons hurriedly picked up their weapons and dashed off.

Man, here we go with things getting hectic again.

After finishing off a meat skewer and washing it down with the last of my wine, I finally stood up. Since I had just finished my meal, the thought of exercise didn’t really appeal to me.

“You don’t have a care in the world, do you?” the devil god murmured softly, something close to grief in her sigh.

†††

The Izanis messenger had been cut off after saying, “The east gate has been destroyed,” but it would’ve been more accurate to say the defenders had blown it open. But with how the demons and devils surrounding the gate had been sent flying and the dwarven forgeknights had come charging out, one might have thought the whole thing had just exploded.

“Let’s go!”

“Out of the way!”

“Step aside, denizens of the dark!”

Glimmering trueforged axes and warhammers swung, the unit of dwarves charging deep into the enemy ranks. Demons were cut down left and right like mere scarecrows, magical wards and all. Desperate Rage family warriors attempted to pass on their wounds to the dwarves using Transposition, but their attempts were thwarted by magical armor deflecting each and every curse, leaving them to die.

It was a massacre. The city of Evaloti was drenched in blue blood.

“Rrraaaaaagh!”

“Us too!”

“Deftelos forever!”

Rushing through the opening carved out by the dwarves were humans in copper red armor—the Deftelos royal guard. Each and every member was either a child of the nobility or someone recruited for their powerful magical potential. Truly a unit that perfectly married the flawless coordination of the ordinary human soldiers and the magical prowess of heroes and priests. They stood head and shoulders above other human armies.

“Light of heaven and might of the throne, guide us!”

“May the purity of our spirits be as a blade!”

Light wavering like flames took to their swords as the royal guard struck the demons. With a path opened by the dwarves and then secured by the royal guard, refugees with children in their arms began to pour out of the castle. Forest elves ran with them, hastening them with magic. The militia bearing shields followed them closely from the rear. Ordered to flee the city along with them, noble heirs used protective magic to guide them forward.

“You’re running, you cowards?!” Their plan to evacuate the capital was now apparent to the demon king’s army.

“Be crippled!”

“Rot away!”

“Incinerate!”

Demons and devils hurled curses after the retreating army, beastfolk threw stones, and night elf hunters unleashed arrows all as one. But as the deadly volley descended on the people—

“To protect our people!”

“Our bodies shall be shields!”

The royal guard stepped into formation, lifting their shields. Behind them, shimmering silhouettes emerged, enormous figures bearing equally gigantic shields of their own. They were the ancestors of the royal guard, their souls and memories woven together into this protective magic. Enhanced by the effect of Sancta Nativitas, the illusionary soldiers were more robust and defined than they had ever been. Their shields blocked every wicked spell, deflected every stone and arrow.

“You bastards!”

But they were still only human. As such, they were unable to form a perfect defense against truly powerful magic. One curse of flame punched through the shield, engulfing the royal guard and the ordinary soldiers behind them. Night elf snipers launched arrows through the gaps between the enormous shields, taking down refugees and forest elf mages as they fled. A deadly whistle filled the air as another black-feathered arrow reached a small girl, being pulled by the arm by her mother—

“Guh!”

But a moment before it could reach the girl, a soldier stepped in its path, shield raised. However, the arrow’s impact was enough to smash through the shield. The archer might very well have been on the verge of becoming a Bowmaster if he was firing arrows with that ferocity.

“Mister!” the girl screamed.

“Don’t worry! Nina, keep running! I’ll catch up with you later!” The soldier grinned as the little girl reached for him. But there was no hiding the blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. The arrow had punched right through his shield and into his chest.

But he didn’t fall. Tearing his gaze from the girl, he took up an imposing stance, holding aloft a shield that hardly resembled itself any longer. He needed to buy those fleeing every second he could.

Meanwhile, the night elf hunter clicked his tongue upon seeing the result of his shot. He had been so sure he would hit his mark that having someone get in the way hurt his pride. The night elf narrowed his eyes and nocked another arrow, taking aim at the same girl again. He’d make that meddling soldier listen to that girl’s final cries. Following them as they ran in a straight line, he waited for a gap in the shields and...found it.

“Idiot.”

But the moment he let go of the arrow, a dull thud on the back of his head caused his shot to veer off course, sending the arrow flying in the wrong direction.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the night elf roared, turning to see the source of the voice...and his eyes went wide.

Behind him was a young demon, scowling at him. He looked far, far too familiar. It was the seventh demon prince, Zilbagias Rage, in the flesh.

“Ah...Your Highness...!” Cursing at just any demon would have been one thing, but this was Zilbagias, a demon to whom all night elves were incredibly indebted. The sickly pale night elf blanched even further. “My sincerest apologies! I didn’t...!”

“Don’t worry about it. If you’ve got time to aim at kids, try aiming at soldiers instead.”

“O-Of course! My apologies!” The hunter quickly turned his attention back to firing arrows at the royal guard.

“Good. That’s...huh?” Zilbagias snorted before his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp sense of unease.

“Not good! Piercing is Taboo!” The devil god deployed her curse moments before the whistle reached his ears, and then an incredible impact to his chest sent him sprawling.

“Your Highness?!”

“The heck was that? Oh, an arrow?” Ignoring the panic all around him, Zilbagias picked up the arrow as he returned to his feet. Luckily, the combination of the devil god’s curse and the strength of Syndikyos left him unscathed.

“Was that a forest elf?”

“That bitch! I’ll kill her myself!” A night elf hunter nearby suddenly flew into a rage. He had his sights set on a forest elf woman standing among the refugees, returning their looks with a dark glare of her own. Incensed by the attack on their prince, the night elves fired arrow after arrow at her, but her magic kept all of their attacks at bay.

The woman clicked her tongue loud enough for the denizens of the dark to hear, disappointed at her failure to take down the prince. Turning in frustration, she followed after the refugees.

“Looks like I made her mad,” Zilbagias murmured glibly—earning a few rounds of “well, of course” from those around him. He was unaware that the woman’s name was Heleina, and he would likely never learn it.

Quickly forgetting the sniping attempt, Zilbagias turned his attention from the fleeing refugees back to the castle. As much as the evacuation had been clearly organized and planned out, not all of the defenders had joined them. Not only was fighting still occurring within the castle, but Sancta Nativitas was still holding strong while overlooking the structure. Magic continued lashing out from the battlements, attempting to distract from and aid the refugees in their escape. As he watched, the stream of people running from the castle gate tapered off.

A deep, resounding roar filled the air, the sound of weapons clashing overpowering the screams of demons.

“Bring it on, demons!”

“Anyone with a death wish, line up!”

“We’ll add your spears to our collection!”

The dwarven forgeknights were back. Leaving the front of the caravan to the royal guard, they had returned to cover the rear. Blades of magic from their axes, long-range blasts from their hammers, and powerful magical resistant armor left the demons facing them at a loss. They were the perfect rearguard. Their bombardment of threats and insults at the demons didn’t stop as they followed the train of refugees away from the castle.

“You bastard! It’s you!”

“The demon with those masterworks!”

“You were out here?!”

But even among all the chaos, they found Zilbagias. Though that wasn’t too much of a surprise. Even in the early morning light, he very much stood out with his bright white armor. That was likely why he had been spotted by the enemy snipers too.

“Hey! Nice to see you again!” Zilbagias waved. “By the way, it was Fisero!” he shouted back.

“What?!” The dwarves momentarily froze in place.

“Fisero?! Fisero Don Technitis?!”

“That bastard is still alive?!”

“Now it all makes sense!” the dwarves roared even as they retreated.

“Oh, guess he’s pretty famous.” Zilbagias laughed.

“But he’s an armor specialist!”

“The sword had to be someone else!”

“Who made it?! Who made that sword?!”

“Dammit, if that’s the work of Fisero, I want to see it even more!”

“Come on, chase us! We need to see that armor!”

“Never mind that, just come and fight!”

As the dwarves disappeared from view while still shouting at him, Zilbagias gave them one more wave.

“You don’t intend to pursue?” Beteranos asked, having come up beside the prince at some point.

“I don’t want to say this too loudly,” Zilbagias whispered, rubbing the scales of his armor. “See, when I got this, I swore a vow to the dwarven smith that made it. While wearing this armor, I’m not allowed to harm any dwarves.”

“Ah, is that it?” Beteranos nodded with a chuckle, convinced.

“Besides”—Zilbagias continued, smile deepening as he turned around—“there’s no need to chase them when there’s plenty of prey here.”

Before him now was Evaloti Castle, Sancta Nativitas shining bright overhead.

†††

“They’re gone.”

Atop the castle in the tallest watchtower stood Ossmeier XIII, rubbing his belt as he watched the army depart. He was surrounded by the other leaders of the kingdom and former members of the royal guard, all of them well past their prime. To some degree, every last one of them was wounded—some much more than others. The only one without a scratch was Ossmeier himself.

“I can’t thank those dwarves enough.”

“We’ll have to give them an official commendation,” one of the ministers replied, the seriousness in his tone bringing a round of smiles from everyone gathered.

They had been pinned in the watchtower for quite some time now. The ministers had put a magic seal on the door to the stairs leading down. At the foot of said stairs a contingent of brave soldiers was holding the line, but they could only last so long against demons.

“Okay then, gentlemen. It’s finally time to open this,” Ossmeier said, opening a small box at his feet and gently lifting a bottle of wine from it.

“Ohh! Is that from Your Majesty’s personal collection...?!”

The ministers started getting excited.

“Indeed. Arien Bimi, thirty-five years old...”

Arien Bimi was a famous brand from the grain-producing region in west Deftelos. It was a strong wheat liquor. The king lifted the bottle, a nostalgic look taking to his eyes, but his words had struck the others gathered silent. Thirty-five years ago, Ossmeier XIII had taken the throne. Everyone in the room knew him well enough to catch on to that instantly.

“I’m impressed you held on to it for so long. I would’ve opened it ages ago!”

“No kidding! There’s no greater test of will than not opening Arien Bimi for any length of time!”

But then they broke out into laughter again, as if nothing was amiss.

“I can’t wait to give it a taste!”

“Come on, hurry up!”

Noise was starting to come up from the stairs. The enemy army was closing in.

“Now, now. Don’t rush me.” Poking at the seal on the top of the bottle, the former king murmured an incantation with what little magic he had left. The seal gently fell to the ground. “Okay everyone, glasses up.”

Ossmeier personally filled all of their glasses. “You guys too. There’s no need for formalities.” And then he served each former member of the royal guard.

“It is...an honor, Your Majesty.” The guards gave bright smiles as he even poured into helmets for those without glasses.

Lastly, he emptied the bottle into his own glass, making sure to get every last drop.

“It is an honor to spend these final moments with you all. Thank you.”

Everyone smiled. The ministers, the former king. Those pale and weak from their injuries, those struggling to hold back tears. All of them were smiling.

“To Deftelos,” one of the ministers spoke up, raising his glass.

“To His Majesty Ossmeier,” one of the guards followed up.

“To the rare men who became my ministers,” Ossmeier XIII added.

As they lifted their glasses, the morning sun peeked over the horizon, causing their drinks to sparkle in the early light.

“To the young, and to humanity! Cheers!”

The rooftop resounded with men echoing in reply.

“To the happiness of Ossmeier XIV, and all the people of Deftelos!”

And they drank. That rich, last drink was the best they tasted in their lives. And, with gusto, they drank it all down. It was as if they were trying to swallow the sunlight, the light of hope, glittering in their glasses.

†††

That day, the black flag of the demonic kingdom flew over Evaloti Castle. The first assault had been merely two days prior, far too short a siege.

Atop the castle in the tallest watchtower Ossmeier XIII and his ministers were found, having fallen on their own swords.

And so the curtains closed on the long, rich history of the Kingdom of Deftelos. However, the sword signifying lawful succession had already been inherited by Ossmeier XIV, who now carried it in his possession alongside the escaping army that fled east. Successors of all the noble families and most of the children of the capital had successfully escaped. The royal guard was still in strong fighting shape. Their hope still remained.

So, at the same time, it was the opening act of the trials and tribulations of Ossmeier XIV’s reign in exile.

†††

Three days had passed since he’d left for the front lines. In that time, Layla and the others had been waiting anxiously in a city far from the fighting. They were in a mansion built on the shore of a lake. At some time in the past, it had been a vacation home for one of Deftelos’s noble families. It was far more relaxing than waiting around in a fortress. And, with Zilbagias’s personal night elf hunters standing guard, not even an ant could breach the perimeter.

Yes, not even an ant. Not from outside, nor from inside.

“We could never face His Highness should something happen to you two...” Veene had said, acting as representative for the night elves. As Zilbagias’s “lover,” the experience of being guarded like she was made of glass had left Layla feeling strangely stifled.

But Layla was fine with that. Dragons were the strongest race in the demonic kingdom, save for the demons themselves, so she was still afforded a fair amount of freedom. In contrast, Liliana was exceptionally depressed, constantly surrounded by night elves with Zilbagias nowhere to be found.

But...that’s only natural.

Just the thought of being surrounded by dark dragons treating her with “respect” due to her association with Zilbagias was enough to crush Layla’s mood. That said, the treatment Layla had endured at the hands of the dark dragons was nothing compared to the hell Liliana had experienced.

So Layla took every opportunity to take Liliana outside while the sun was up. It was quite a burden on the night elf guards since they had to monitor from a distance while wearing heavy light-blocking garments, but that time spent away from the night elves was crucial for Liliana.

“It’s getting quite a bit warmer, isn’t it?”

Layla’s comment was met with a meow and a bark. They were sitting on a bench overlooking the lake...well, Layla was sitting. The other two were lying down. Liliana using the time to relax was expected, but even Garunya was sprawled out without a care in the world. Though she had originally been brought on to act as Zilbagias’s bodyguard and emergency body double, Garunya had been basically forced into the role of Liliana’s caretaker and...best friend? In any case, it had been quite a struggle for her to not be allowed to accompany the prince to the front lines.

“I’m not supposed to be Liliana’s bodyguard...” she grumbled in one of her rare complaints. That of course made Liliana upset, so Garunya quickly added that her frustration wasn’t because she didn’t like Liliana.

Time just feels so slow... Layla thought idly as she looked out over the lake, stroking Liliana’s hair as her head rested on Layla’s lap.

Back when she was living with the dragons, her days had been full of suffering. And even still, being forced to wait for Zilbagias’s return was somehow worse.

What if something happens to him on the battlefield?

She didn’t want to bring up such an obviously ill omen, but she couldn’t help but worry.

Even Liliana, seemingly perfectly relaxed as she lay in Layla’s lap, had times where she’d stare at the surrounding scenery with a weary look. She must have felt the strain too.

That rarely happens in the Rage family, but...

Normally he had Liliana there to heal him. Now he’d have to fend for himself. Though as much as he relied on Liliana, he also regularly practiced live combat with real weapons and took on the wounds of the night elves himself. As such, there was not a shred of doubt as to his ability with Transposition.

But...he’ll have to sacrifice humans for that...

That thought caused a sharp pain in Layla’s chest. It was a secret shared only by her, Liliana, and Zilbagias himself—the truth behind the prince’s identity.

She could only imagine how much it would hurt him to have to transpose his wounds onto a human. Though the reality of the situation was since Zilbagias had stepped foot onto the battlefield, he must have already resolved himself to do something like that. He was ready to sacrifice his own people in order to take down the Demon King. Layla herself had no one but Zilbagias. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the torment that he faced in wanting to protect humanity that he’d go that far for them.

“I wonder how he’s doing,” Garunya said, kicking up the hem of her skirt. “Is he mowing down rows of humans by now? Oh, it’s the middle of the day. He’s probably asleep right about now.” Without the need to match Zilbagias’s schedule, Garunya had returned to her usual diurnal habits.

“I guess so,” Layla could only give a noncommittal reply. Conversation regarding war was always difficult for her. Despite her usual closeness with Garunya, this topic made her feel so distant.

Garunya hated humanity. They were monsters who had hunted her people, the white tiger beastfolk, for sport. It didn’t bother her in the least that Zilbagias was killing humans. Rather, it probably made her happy.

That thought sent a chill through Layla. It was the realization that Garunya was one of them, not one of us.

She was endlessly grateful to Garunya. When Layla had been given to Zilbagias as an apology gift, still timid and terrified of everything, it was Garunya who had helped her come out of her shell.

“Here, you can have some of my snacks!”

“Layla! Let’s go hit the bath!”

“If your uniform starts wearing out, go talk to that lady.”

She had taught Layla everything, from how to work as a maid to how to live an ordinary life. It was all thanks to Garunya that she felt close to Zilbagias’s whole group. But...

“Man, I wish I could be out there...to get my own taste of revenge.”

Garunya grumbled as she stood up and started going through her training forms. They were all a means of practicing the use of her claws to gouge specific targets, using her fists and feet to break bones. It was all quite vicious. Every action with the intent to kill.

“I need to become a Fistmaster. Then he’ll take me with him,” she said, seriously striving to overcome the laws of nature.

No matter how you sliced it, Garunya was an enemy of humanity.

Layla looked away, unable to utter a word. Zilbagias’s true objective...when he accomplished it, what would happen to Garunya? What would Layla herself do?

Well, that didn’t need much thought. Any enemy of Zilbagias was an enemy of Layla. That meant...

“Oh,” Layla accidentally blurted out, bringing Garunya’s practice to a stop.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. It’s nothing.” Layla smiled to try and cover her blunder. “I just thought I saw a fish jump out of the water.”

“A fish?” Garunya’s eyes went wide, turning to the water.

Ah. So this is what that pain feels like, Layla put a hand to her chest, ignoring her white tiger friend.

When she thought of Garunya’s inevitable fate, it brought a needling pain to her chest.

This pain is... If it was a hundred times, a thousand times stronger... That’s what he’s feeling.

And so she had just barely caught a glimpse of what Zilbagias was experiencing. She could understand a small fraction of his suffering. It was this. This was what he was going through.

Layla gave a small smile, gently rubbing her chest. She didn’t want to forget that pain. In some way it almost felt...precious to her.

“Huh?”

Garunya turned around. Wearing a heavy sunlight-blocking cloak, Veene was running toward them from the mansion.

“Everyone! Everyone! His Highness is coming back tonight!”

“What?! Already?!” Garunya all but shrieked, her tail popping up. Liliana also jumped up, quite the rare reaction from her considering she usually ignored anything said by a night elf.

“It’s over? Or...” It was far too soon. That thought left Layla feeling uneasy, but Veene answered her with a smile.

“His Highness is fine. Evaloti has fallen.” The tinge of excitement in Veene’s voice must have meant she had received the news herself. “His Highness had an astounding performance on the battlefield, taking down numerous heroes and Swordmasters...”

Another deep pang struck Layla’s heart.

“However...though the battle ended quickly, they say there were quite a few casualties among the demons.” Veene’s face clouded over. “His Highness’s retainers...Kuviltal, Alba, and the others...” Before she could finish, the night elf maid faltered. A rarity for her. “They were... They’re gone.”

Layla’s breath was caught in her throat. They had met in the Rage territory and spent the winter together. In particular, the ones Zilbagias affectionately called the “three idiots” had treated everyone, including those below them, with such kindness and respect that it was hard to believe they were demons. Layla had spoken with them personally on multiple occasions. And now...

“All of them...?” Garunya murmured, a hollowness in her voice.

Another terrifying thought struck Layla. They had been wiped out. Such losses among the demons was unprecedented. That must have meant...something peculiar must have taken place. A terrible premonition of that nature came to her.

And that premonition was right.

†††

That night (the beginning of the day, by demon standards), carriages flying the flag of the Rage family lined up out front of the mansion. When they had first set off, they had been packed full of tents and supplies. And then they had departed, carrying Zilbagias, Kuviltal, Albaoryl, and the others to the battlefield.

But now, no joyful voices of young demons could be heard. Instead their seats were occupied by caskets, frozen for preservation.

Those greeting their return waited nervously. The victory was of course a matter worth celebrating. And it went without saying that Zilbagias’s incredible performance that had led to said victory was worthy of the same praise. But how were they supposed to greet their master who had lost all of his beloved companions in the fighting?

“I’m back. Sorry for worrying you.” But Zilbagias stepped down from the carriage like it was any other day. He was evidently full of energy, entirely unwounded—no, he did have a stark white scar lining his neck. Even at a glance, anyone could recognize the wound was the work of holy magic.

“Welcome back, Master! I’m glad to see that you’re safe!” Garunya dashed up to him. Her ability to jump into action without concern for the situation (or perhaps, her lack of awareness of that situation) was one of her greatest strengths. Liliana trotted along close behind her, barking as she ran to keep up.

“Looks like you two are doing well,” Zilbagias said, patting Garunya before lifting the frolicking Liliana up in his arms.

“Really...I’m really glad you’re safe...!”

In response to the maid on the verge of tears, Zilbagias gave a wry smile, his shoulders relaxing...but it all seemed a bit performative.

To Layla’s eyes, something was wrong. His smile wasn’t quite right. Liliana also gave a confused bark, sniffing at his face while he held her. However, since she wasn’t actually a dog, her sense of smell picked up nothing. Thus she settled for licking at his neck. With a soft sizzling sound, the bright scar melted away.

“Oh. Thanks, Liliana. Good girl. That helps a lot,” he said, happily ruffling the high elf’s hair. He was acting like his usual self...and that in itself was strange.

Why...?

How could he be wearing such a carefree smile? Layla wanted to talk to him as soon as possible, but something about him was holding her back, keeping her legs frozen in place.

“Your Highness, we have all been waiting eagerly for your return,” Veene, representing the maids left behind, managed to squeeze out. “We heard you made quite a name for yourself on the battlefield.”

That’s right. That was it. While everyone knew what he had accomplished in the battle, only Layla and probably Liliana really understood what it meant.

“We have prepared a meal and a bath for you. I am sure your journey back has left you quite tired. If there is anything you would like—” Veene was strangely indirect in the way she was speaking. It was pretty hard to lavish him with praise, considering...

“No, I’m fine,” Zilbagias cut her off, face darkening as he turned back to the carriages. “Instead, please...take them to the basement for me.” He motioned to the skull-like carriage. “They’re a lot more tired than I am.”

Everyone standing there recognized it immediately. His casual, relaxed behavior was all empty bravado.

“Of course, Your Highness. We will see to it right away.” Veene gave a bow and, in short order, the maids and hunters began carrying frozen coffins out of the carriages. Though they were quite heavy, though they were quite painfully cold to the touch, their faces showed nothing but the deepest reverence as they worked. These were the remains of their master’s faithful retainers, loyal to the end.

After watching them work for a while, Zilbagias’s gaze finally turned on Layla. He smiled, but it looked so lonely. Layla returned the gesture with an awkward smile of her own, but she just couldn’t get over the weirdness of it all.

His act seemed...too good. So good in fact it couldn’t help but come across as fake.

After taking a bath and having a meal, Zilbagias spoke to the servants.

“Okay then. I know I just got back, but...” With one arm he picked up Liliana and he quite naturally looped the other around Layla’s waist, pulling her close. “With all that has happened, I’m exhausted. So I could really use a bit of...y’know?”

Zilbagias gave a playful smile, earning exasperated looks from the servants. But at the same time they were quite relieved to see him with his usual attitude, not having succumbed to despair.

“Please excuse us.”

“Please relax.”

Veene and Garunya said their parting words as they left the room. That left Zilbagias, Liliana, and Layla all alone.

Zilbagias murmured a short incantation causing all the sound of the outside world to vanish, leaving them in perfect silence. It was a barrier to prevent eavesdropping.

“Okay, now we should be able to talk.” Zilbagias turned a bright smile on Layla...and her sense of unease exploded into alarm. This look, the coldness in his eyes—she had never seen him wear such an expression when the two of them were alone.

“Who... Who are you?” Layla reflexively pushed herself away from him. Zilbagias’s eyes widened slightly.

“Wow. How did you know?” His smile didn’t budge, but the way he looked at her...it was akin to a demon prince having taken a keen interest in an insect.

†††

Hi there! It’s me, Zilbagias. I thought I had nailed the impression of myself, but Layla saw through me in a flash. The way she was all scared and shaking, I kinda felt bad for her.

Wait, was that fear? Actually, it was starting to look more like anger... Uh-oh, this could be bad. Yeah she was cute, but she was still a dragon, y’know? Oh, crap! She was starting to transform!

Hey! Miss Devil God! Help me out!

“Wait, wait, wait! I can explain!” Antendeixis leaped out from inside me, grabbing ahold of Layla’s shoulders.

“Explain what...?” Layla said, shifting her glare between me and the devil god without removing her hand from the ribbon about to untie her uniform.

At the same time, Liliana gave a knowing bark, nodding as she stood at my feet as if she had just figured out what was going on.

“This is Zilbagias. His original personality—oh, I should probably refrain from saying his name. He has used Taboo to seal his personality, thus giving birth to the personality of a true demon to take its place.”

“She’s going to misunderstand if you put it like that, Miss Devil God.” While I was going to leave the explaining to Ante, I couldn’t help myself from interjecting. “Saying I’m the personality of a true demon isn’t quite right. It’s more like I’m a collection of the knowledge and behavior he’s learned through his life as a demon. I am a prince of the demons, but I’m missing way too much to call myself a ‘true demon.’ Egoism, pride, belligerence—I don’t have any of that. The only thing I can really say I do have is curiosity.”

Layla was clearly at a loss for words. Though I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Anyway, the point is I’m not your enemy. You can think of it like the shell of his body doing its best to move on its own while his real personality is missing.”

“This version of him was created when he rescued the puppy from that night elf prison,” Ante added.

“That’s right. We used some magic to seal away both of our memories. So really, nice to see you again. Glad to see you doing so well.” I reached out toward Liliana, earning a happy bark as she plopped the stub of her arm in my hand. Wow, what a smart girl!

“Is...that what it is? But...how...?” Layla asked the devil god, still staring uncomfortably at me.

“His original personality reached its limit,” the devil god murmured. Antendeixis, the mastermind behind everything. “He wanted to disappear so badly, he unconsciously used magic to seal away his own mind.”

Layla gaped. “No way...” Her legs gave out, dropping her to the floor. “—...” Tears poured from her eyes as she called his name. Come on, Miss Devil God just said we shouldn’t say that name. Luckily, I didn’t hear her. “—...no...”

From her perspective, I really was nothing more than “Zilbagias.” It was a bit sad. I mean, even as Zilbagias, I still had my memories of the time I’d spent with her.

I remembered the day we first met. About the horrible thing I did by making her face the severed head of her own father. She taught me Anthromorphy, I took her out to the parade ground to practice flying... All of it was quite nostalgic.

And I remembered how scared she was when my tutor and Miss Devil God got super drunk that one time. Our relationship started off as terribly as anyone could have imagined, but we grew closer, little by little.

And one day, something huge happened. I couldn’t recall what had gone down exactly, but I did remember that ever since that day, she has been able to fly freely. Watching her soar through the sky at the break of dawn, scales glittering in the morning sun... She had been stunningly beautiful. Even I, playing up the role of a demon prince, could remember that.

But...

For her, for the girl sobbing on the floor in front of me, holding her hands to the pain in her chest...

I was no more than a stranger, wasn’t I?

Liliana gave a confused bark. Apparently she didn’t have the same hang-ups Layla did. I guess it helped that we were already technically acquainted since this version of me had helped her get out of that prison.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re happy.” I ruffled her hair again. Liliana replied with a happy bark, a delighted expression on her face. Honestly, there was a beauty about her that could be called something left behind by the gods of light themselves. But, behind her eyes, there wasn’t any sign of intelligence at all.

Both of us were pretty twisted, weren’t we? Oh well. I was probably nothing more than a temporary stand-in.

Can you hear me, me? I’m sure you can. After all, you’re me and all. I don’t know who I am. It’s something I try not to think too hard about. I have no idea what terrible things we’ve been through, so I don’t understand how you feel. I’m sure they were awful. I can guess that much.

But you know we can’t keep going on like this, right? This won’t make everything go away. I survived. And I’m going to keep on living. I have to. Dying isn’t an option.

I’m nothing more than a single aspect of the guy called Zilbagias. I don’t have what it takes to deal with all of this on my own! So hurry up and get back here! You can’t run away from this. Because I...

Well, let me say one last thing. Look at Layla, crying quietly over there. It’s not right to make a cute girl cry! Honestly, I envy you quite a bit, you bastard.

“So hurry up and wake up.” I clenched my fingers tight and delivered a hard strike to my own forehead.

I felt a sensation like a hammer striking the inside of my head. It was as though my mind was being forcibly reshaped. And like a muddy waterfall, a torrent of various memories flooded my mind, rushing back to me.

Man. I was pathetic. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is there anything more pathetic than being cheered up by my own alternate self? I’m sorry...

“Good grief. I was worried about you for a moment there.” Under the bright moonlight, Ante looked at me with a smile, clearly relieved of her tension.

I couldn’t say anything. My eyes started to tear up, and before long my face was its own waterfall. I collapsed to the floor sobbing. It was like a ghost had possessed my body.

I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...

I didn’t even know who I was apologizing to anymore. But...I still had to.

Liliana started licking the tears from my face, trying to cheer me up. I looked up at Layla, an expression of shock on her tearstained face after crying so much for my sake. And I looked to Ante, who was still here and was always by my side supporting me.

“I’m back.”

I had returned from the battlefield.

Chapter 4: The Triumphant Demon Prince’s Return

The next thing she knew, Barbara found herself in a garden brimming with plants and trees. It was quite dark. Was sunset approaching? Perhaps dawn? For some reason, it was a nostalgic sight.

“Where am I...?”

Idly putting a hand to her chest, she was surprised to find her clothes were made of quite nice fabric. The shock only intensified as she looked down to discover she was wrapped in a rather cute dress. A dress exactly like what she had worn when she was younger.

“Oh!”

How had she forgotten? No wonder the garden made her nostalgic. It was her family’s home! This was the inner courtyard of the da Rosa estate. Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and started running.

“There...!”

Slipping through the maze of hedges, she found a structure that should have been burned to the ground long ago—a large mansion. Out front was a round table where two men sat while enjoying their tea. One was a mustachioed older gentleman and the other was a younger man of medium build with a gentle demeanor.

“Father! Brother!”

A flood of emotion overwhelmed her at the sight of them, bringing her immediately to tears.

“Oh, Barbara. It has been so long,” her brother said, standing with a smile. The exact same smile he had worn when she last saw him.

Barbara was long past the point of speaking now. She had no idea what to say, so she simply screamed wordlessly as she dove into his arms. Her brother returned the hug, lifting her up and swaying back and forth as if to a tune.

“I’m so sorry...!” she blurted out without thinking.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. Nothing at all,” her father said, gently returning his teacup to the table.

“We are the ones who should be apologizing,” her brother followed up, an apologetic look on his face. “For both the family head and heir to fall in battle simultaneously...we forced so much on you all at once.”

“Since your older sister Tina had only been taught homemaking, carrying the entire family all fell to you.” Her father’s gaze dropped. “I’m sorry. It must have been so hard for you.”

“Really, we’re sorry.”

Barbara wiped the tears from her eyes as she shook her head violently. “It’s fine. Both of you.” They had just been carrying out their duties as nobles. That was why they had never returned home alive. “The demonic army was just...too strong!”

The two of them had led their family’s forces against the demonic hordes as they invaded their kingdom, so it wasn’t hard to guess what kind of end the two had met. But she could only imagine the frustration and regret they had felt upon dying before those they had led into battle.

“I’m... It’s so irritating!!!”

This must have been what it meant to be unable to rest in peace. Memories of her final moments sprang vividly to mind. Despite their desperate efforts, they couldn’t even defeat the youngest of the demon heirs.

“At this rate, this place...this mansion...”

All they could do was wait here for their friends and family in Evaloti to eventually join them. It was aggravating. Barbara felt like a failure. In short order, the tears she had just wiped away were replaced by new ones pouring out.

“That’s right...we can’t do anything but wait here.” Her brother stroked her hair, trying to console her. “But Barbara...it seems the same can’t be said for you.”

A bitter smile quickly rose to his face. Why? His voice suddenly sounded so distant. Looking up, she saw her brother, her father, and their mansion all rapidly receding into the distance. They were all leaving her behind. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was being pulled away from them. Drawn away to the farthest reaches of the world.

“Barbara, this is goodbye for now. There’s still something left for you to do.” Her father stood and bowed.

“Sorry. I don’t think we can help you,” her brother added, waving with a sad smile. “But we’ll be watching you. Forever and ever.”

“You are the pride of our family, Barbara.”

We can only hope you find happiness at the end of your path.

“Wait! Wait!!!”

As she stretched out her hand, she realized it was now once again that of a Swordmaster—hard and calloused, covered in scars and clad in armor.

The world inverted, and it felt like she had been pulled out of a pool of water.

†††

It was dark. That was clear enough. Barbara was in a dark room. It was cold. But not ordinary cold. The surrounding air itself wasn’t cold. She felt her own being was so weak, so flimsy, that lowering her guard for even a second might cause her to scatter into the atmosphere. That sense of danger instinctively felt like “cold” to her. For some reason, she could logically comprehend that, as if that understanding was forced on her.

“Where am I...?”

She looked around, though she lacked the eyes to actually see with. Even so, she could sense everything around her. Slowly but surely, things outside of herself started taking shape.

A pale-skinned young woman was watching her with bated breath. Her golden eyes shone like the sun. Upon closer inspection, Barbara noticed she also had horns. But unlike the sinister twisted horns of demons, they were straight—she was a dragon.

“Woof.”

And beside her was... What was that? A woman? If so, she was incredibly beautiful. But there was something off about her. Barbara couldn’t perceive her clearly. Were those pointed ears? Was she an elf?

And beside those two was another with a menacing aura about her. Too young to be called a woman, but too curvy to be a child. She returned Barbara’s gaze with her arms crossed. The horns growing from her forehead were proof she was a devil.

This was far too suspicious a gathering. Barbara understood instantly that nothing good was taking place here. Especially once she noticed right in front of her stood someone she instantly recognized as a demon.

He had cold, ruthlessly handsome features. Two wickedly curving horns emerging from silver hair, pale blue skin, and bright crimson eyes. With the frame of a human boy not yet having reached adulthood, he still possessed a terrifying magical aura about him.

“You...!” There was no doubt in her mind. It was him. “Zilbagias Rage!!!”

Anger and hatred flooded her mind, but at the same time a hollow feeling was left in her heart. Why was she here when she was supposed to be dead? Only one thing came to mind. The wicked heresy that the denizens of the dark practiced. A means to toy with life itself.

Necromancy.

“Barbara da Rosa.”

Her terror only grew as the demon prince spoke her full name. How did he know her? What was he planning on doing to her? The confusing string of events and discoveries left her at a total loss as to how she was supposed to act.

The demon prince stepped forward.

“Wh-What do you want, you bastard?!”

In response to Barbara’s yelling, the demon prince...fell. Both his hands and forehead struck the floor in a deep bow.

“I swear, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry!!!”

She was speechless. It was an honest, sincere apology.

“What...? What are you trying to pull?!”

It was understandable Barbara responded to him with nothing but shouts. After all, he had ruthlessly cut them down on the battlefield. But now he was bowing with his face on the floor to apologize? It was incomprehensible to Barbara. Meanwhile, the dragon girl, the forest elf girl with no hands or feet, and the devil were just watching him. What the hell was going on?

After a lengthy stretch of silence, the demon prince finally lifted his face and once again met her gaze. “My name is...Alexander. I’m a former hero.”

Barbara froze. “Alex...?” Her eyes shot to the worn-out sword at his hip. There was no way... “The Indomitable Sacred Flame...?” Alexander? That Alex?

“So, you remember me...” the demon prince replied, face twisting as if on the verge of tears. Of course she remembered him. How could she ever forget a man like that? But that didn’t mean she understood or even believed him at all. Why would a demon prince be using that name?

“But you said your name was Zilbagias...!”

“That’s true too... It’s a long story.” He scratched his head, a bit lost on how to continue. That bizarre, humanlike affectation was so out of place on his cold demonic features that it threw Barbara into a deeper state of confusion. “Seven years ago, in the assault on the Demon King’s castle, the Demon King killed me. Then, about five years ago, I found myself reborn as a demon prince,” he began explaining.

Barbara listened closely, but cautiously. She was far outside her element here. At the very least she felt like she needed to hear him out...or perhaps was curious enough to.

“And then...well, a whole bunch of stuff happened. And now, here we are.”

“You can’t just skip to the end!” But she snapped back at him anyway upon the story’s anticlimactic conclusion. “Surely there’s more to it, right? There has to be something else you need to explain!”

“Not really. When I woke up, I was a demon baby. I figured out I was the seventh demon prince Zilbagias. So I went on with my life, being trained by my archduchess mother and Devil of Knowledge tutor. All while trying to hide the fact that I’m actually a human deep down.” His shoulders drooped, an exhausted look taking to his face. The way he spoke, his stupid mannerisms, they all screamed “Alex.” But...

“You certainly seem...a lot like Alex. But I cannot say I’m convinced.”

“Yeah...I get it. Everything I’m saying is pretty out there, right?” He gave a tired smile. But as much as Barbara said she wasn’t convinced, she was already seeing Alex’s face in his. “Oh, right. I guess there is a faster way to prove myself.” He clapped his hands before suddenly unsheathing the sword from his hip. “Awaken, Adamas.”

The old, battered blade started to pulsate...and then shone with a brilliant light.

“Wha...?!”

The blunt, worn-out holy sword immediately reclaimed its original shape. But...it was way too bright. As she was now, it was far too much for Barbara. She cringed backward, the coldness she felt only intensifying.

“Sorry! Rest, Adamas.” Zilbagias quickly sealed the holy sword again, returning it to its sheath.

Silence settled between them. Barbara was too shocked to speak.

That same holy light that had given her encouragement on the battlefield had now just terrified her. Without a doubt, she was now nothing but a ghost. It had been made painfully obvious.

But at the same time, she understood. He knew the name of that sword, and the sword recognized him as its true wielder.

“So...you’re really Alex. You.”

And Alex nodded, as if to apologize for his own existence.

But, if that was true...there was more she didn’t understand.

“Then why... Why did you kill us?” she murmured, causing Alex’s eyes to squeeze tightly shut. His teeth clenched, as did his hands.

“My objective...is to destroy the entire demonic kingdom,” he mustered, his voice low and deep, as if rising up from the depths of the earth.

Oh. That face. That expression. That look in his eyes as they burned with a blazing hatred. This was undoubtedly Alex.

“As a demon prince, I was able to form a pact with the Devil God of Taboo.”

“Devil god? Of taboo?”

“Basically, she’s a stupidly strong devil. That’s her right over there. Though I guess this is just a copy of her.”

As Alex pointed, the devil girl returned an arrogant smile. “That is correct. I am the Devil God of Taboo.”

That was a “devil god”? She certainly had a powerful aura about her...but a god? Her vulgar appearance was so far detached from any of Barbara’s expectations.

“The first Demon King made a pact with the Devil God of Predation, Kanibal. My pact is with Antendeixis, the Devil God of Taboo.”

As Alex continued his explanation while staring at the floor, Barbara stood there stunned.

“According to our pact, the more taboos I violate, the more my power grows.” His hollow voice echoed painfully in the dark room.

“The more taboos...?”

For someone as sharp as Barbara, that was all she needed to piece everything together. She knew what he was trying to do. What he had already done.

“Not even a year has passed since I made my pact with her, but my magic is already approaching the level of an archduke,” he spoke, his eyes dark. Now that she was a ghost, the powerful magic flickering about him was visible to Barbara. “Back during that assault, I wasn’t at all on the Demon King’s level. But now...someday, I’ll definitely make it!”

But until then, until he reached those heights, he needed to continue violating taboos. It was a wild story, but a convincing one. Even Barbara and her squad of elites had been no match for the demon prince. His chances of beating the Demon King were far greater than theirs.

She could tell he was maximizing the opportunity the position of demon prince granted him. No one would ever guess that a demon prince actually bore the soul of a human hero. Barbara certainly hadn’t.

So he continued taking the lives of humans—without mercy, without hesitation. All to keep the demons oblivious to his intentions. And every human he killed violated the taboo of slaying his own people, bolstering his power. It was all terrifyingly logical. But even so...it was just too much.

“Alex...!”

Lips trembling, Barbara turned a glare on the devil god standing behind her old comrade. The devil god returned her gaze with a chuckle. Her smile vulgarly decadent, her eyes unsettlingly iridescent. Those eyes were like the embodiments of chaos itself. It was as though the world’s wickedness had been condensed down into a single pair of orbs... Even with no physical body, Barbara felt her skin crawl.

“You...!”

Look at what you’ve done! What you’ve made Alex do! Alex wasn’t the kind of man who could handle something like this! Do you have any idea how much he is suffering right now?!

But, nevertheless, Barbara swallowed the rest of her rebuke. She had no choice. Because she knew Alex, despite knowing all of that, had made it this far. And, ironically, the god of death that had sparked so much despair in Barbara and her comrades was now humanity’s greatest hope.

“That means our deaths...weren’t for nothing...right?” she finally managed to squeeze out, looking at the prince pleadingly.

“Of course not.” Alex replied with a vigorous shake of his head, the eyes of their savior in the shadows blazing. “I’ll make sure they aren’t wasted in the slightest!”

Something like a sigh escaped from Barbara’s mouth. She was certain that if Alex was on it, he’d see things through. He had his stupid moments. He could be a bit of a dunce at times. But on the battlefield, there was no one more reliable. If he was willing to say that much, then she could rest assured. There was no doubt in her mind that his gleaming holy sword would one day claim the life of the Demon King himself.

She was relieved. Everything was so far beyond her. The flood of information numbed her mind, her senses, and, before she knew it, she felt like she was drifting away. It was like she could disappear at any moment.

“There’s still something left for you to do.”

Barbara barely managed to hold on as she was reminded of the words from her father and brother. That was right. There was still one question left unanswered.

“While I have a gist of the situation...why?” She refocused, looking down on the elite hero turned demon prince. “Why go through all the trouble of dragging me out here and explaining all this?”

What did he want from her? Surely he hadn’t summoned her simply to apologize.

“I will definitely kill the Demon King. The same goes for the other demon heirs too,” Alex said, baring his teeth with a brutal look she remembered all too well from his hero days. “At the same time, I’m intent on undermining the very framework keeping the demonic kingdom standing. Someday the whole thing will collapse...but it won’t be a single day’s work. Demons, undead, devils, night elves...there are just far too many that need to be killed. I need more people.”

Barbara barked with laughter. That was where she came in.

“I am currently learning Necromancy. With it I can turn you into an undead that will persist in the real world. I don’t know how many years or even decades it’ll take, but when that day comes...” He looked her in the eyes. “Will you help me?”

She had no idea how she could be of any help. Becoming an undead might mean losing her Swordmaster abilities. But...there was no way she was letting things end like this.

“I’m in.” She smiled. A bright, beautiful smile. Like a flower blooming in the sun.

At the same time, it was vicious and deadly, like a razor-sharp sword.

“Thank you. And again. I’m so, so sorry.” Alex dropped his head in a bow again.

“Give it a rest. We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides, it’s too late to apologize now!”

“I guess I can’t really argue with that.”

“So you’d better not kick the bucket before taking down the Demon King or I’ll never accept your apology!”

“Of course!” Alex nodded vigorously...and then he breathed a deep sigh. “Man...thank goodness. I’m glad at least the last person accepted...” His shoulders slumped in relief, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

“Huh? Last? Last what?” As Barbara’s head tilted in confusion, Alex gave her a guilty smile.

“You’re the last one. One by one, I’ve been calling on the souls of everyone I killed and apologizing to them.”

His gaze flickered behind her. Turning around, she saw piles upon piles of bones, swords, armor, and leather strewn about the floor.

“Huh...?” And it was only then that she realized her famed single-horned helm rested at her feet.

“Out of everyone I called that I could properly have a conversation with, that actually believed me, that didn’t disappear until we finished, and that accepted being turned into undead...there was only one person other than you.”

“What?! Only one?!”

“Yeah. He should be a familiar face. He certainly was for me.” Alex’s face twisted in a sad, ironic smile. “Isn’t that right, Hessel?”

“Can I come out now?” The ghost of a huge man slipped out, appearing beside Barbara.

“Hessel...”

“Yo. So we meet again. Not sure that’s a good thing, but...” The semitransparent man awkwardly scratching his head was none other than Hessel the Linebreaker. Neither of them had expected to survive the battle in Evaloti, so reuniting even as ghosts hadn’t been something Barbara had ever anticipated.

“Looks like we’re gonna be partners even in death, huh?” Barbara answered.

“Heh, guess we’re tied together by fate. Though not as strongly as we’re both tied to this guy,” Hessel said, making a show of jabbing at Alex.

“But the two of us alone are hardly going to be enough, right? How can we be the only ones that accepted?”

“Spirits gradually fade over time,” Alex explained. “Powerful spirits, like those of elves or dragons, can hold on for quite a while. But the spirits of humans lose their ability to think, retain memories, and behave logically as they slowly degrade. That is, if they don’t have extremely powerful regrets.”

He gave them a brief rundown of the situation outside. They had been killed three days ago, Evaloti had fallen, and they were now at a rest point some distance away from the capital.

“Most of them lost a great deal of their sense of self in those three days. The fact you two are so much like yourselves is honestly a miracle. Besides that, anyone from the Holy Church attacked me the moment they noticed I was a demon...and a few annihilated themselves by trying to use light magic.”

“Oh...”

“Those without an affinity for light magic who were willing to hear me out and actually believed me were all so relieved to hear my plans that they disappeared on the spot.”

“That makes sense. I met my brother and father in the afterlife before you called me. They said there was still something left for me to do. That’s why I stuck around after hearing your plans.”

“The afterlife...?” A look of shock passed over Alex’s face for a moment, but he simply nodded.

“I guess I was about the same,” Hessel explained. “Right at the last second I thought, wait, isn’t that sword Adamas? Then it kinda struck me that Zilbagias looked a lot like Alex. All while I was floating around in the...afterlife, I guess? And that was still on my mind when I got pulled back into the real world.”

“I-I see...” It was incredibly awkward for victims and their killer to be speaking casually like this. “Besides all those people...there were the forest elves. Apparently it’s really painful for users of light magic to be bound by dark magic as spirits...” Glancing back to the girls watching their whole exchange in the corner of the room, Alex’s eyes turned distant. “So those that didn’t self-destruct or immediately attack me, even if they heard me out, didn’t want to be undead. So I set them free.”

“I don’t know anything about magic, but that sounds about right.”

“Well...I guess there was nothing you could do.”

Barbara and Hessel shrugged, disappointed but understanding. And so only those two remained. Though Barbara was unsure what she thought about the idea of more of their comrades being added to their ghostly ranks.

†††

I had to bite my lip as Barbara and Hessel sighed in disappointment.

In truth there was actually another who had agreed to be turned into undead...a forest elf who was now in stasis to prevent his soul from deteriorating. But I couldn’t mention him in front of Liliana.

“My name is Ordaj.”

He was an incredibly skilled mage that had caused no shortage of trouble for me on the battlefield. As one might have expected of an elder elf, he had shown a willingness to wait and observe before taking action when I’d initially summoned him, so things had gone pretty smoothly. After I had shown him Adamas and that I could use holy magic, he eventually believed my explanation.

And as a result, both of us had been struck by a shocking revelation.

“What?! You mean the princess—Lady Liliana is still alive?!”

Apparently he was something like her great-grandfather (she apparently called him “gramps”), and had looked after her since she was little. And I had killed him. While he was trying to run away.

“Please! I beg of you, let me see her! If she is well, then...!” he had pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry. With how Liliana is now...seeing you would be too much of a shock.” I understood his feelings painfully well, but I couldn’t accept his request.

While I had summoned the forest elves, I had made Liliana wait in another room. A demon prince keeping a high elf as a pet with her hands and feet missing would be a far too blasphemous sight for any forest elf to handle. No way would they have viewed me as anything but an enemy if they had seen that. On top of that, if anyone I summoned happened to be an acquaintance of hers, I had no idea what kind of effect that would have on her mind.

“Right now, I’m surrounded by night elves. As much as I wish for Liliana to return to her true self, it won’t help in her escape.”

If her true personality returned, pretending to be a dog would be nigh impossible. That was the issue. But my performance in the attack on Evaloti meant my rank would likely increase. And with that should come a lot more freedom. It shouldn’t be difficult to grant her freedom under the pretense of an escape, or an accident...

“Understood. Even if I am to be tormented by dark magic, I will wait centuries if it means I will be able to see the princess one more time.”

As much as he had an affinity for light magic, he also had affinities for water and wind, so he was barely able to survive the agony of being bound by dark magic. So, for the time being, I had him rest in stasis until I could get Liliana free.

“So, that’s how it is. Let me introduce you two to everyone. These are my true allies.”

Having explained the situation to Barbara and Hessel, I was finally able to introduce everyone waiting in the wings. The first I beckoned over was the Saint Puppy herself, already bubbling over with anticipation.

“This girl’s name is Liliana.”

“Woof!” Her energetic bark had Barbara and Hessel sharing a confused look.

“Wait...you don’t mean the saint Liliana, do you...?”

“I do. But due to circumstances, she currently thinks she’s a dog.”

“Bark bark!”

“What the hell kind of circumstances are those?!”

“How in the world did that happen?! You’ve gotta be joking!”

“Seriously, a lot went down...”

Liliana started happily licking at my face. The looks on the faces of both Barbara and Hessel were just incredible. They were already starting to cringe back. It was just another reminder of how numb I had grown to it all.

“Actually, Liliana sneaked her way into the assault on the Demon King’s castle. The night elves captured her alive.”

The two went silent at that. They had seen plenty of the atrocities the night elves inflicted upon forest elves from their time on the battlefield to know exactly how they would treat a prisoner like Liliana.

“I used my position as prince to get into the night elf prison to see her.”

Liliana whined.

“Using a bit of impressive magic, I made her believe she was my pet and used that to help break her out.”

Liliana barked in response.

“And, of course, I released her from that magic...but for some reason her real personality didn’t come back.”

Liliana tilted her head in confusion.

I was quite conflicted about the whole thing, considering the conversation with Ordaj. Liliana meanwhile just looked up at me confused, ears bouncing. She was so darn adorable.

“As you can see, she stays like this even when we talk about it in front of her. I imagine she’s trying to keep her memories of her time in that prison suppressed.”

There was a chance letting her meet Ordaj would be no problem, but it would still be a horrible experience for the old elf.

“But those caps on her arms and legs prevent her from using magic or running away. Because of that she’s afforded relative freedom. So I’m having her act as my pet for the time being. I haven’t been able to find a good opportunity to get her out yet. So even if her mind did return, she’d have to stay living like this...”

And in that case, she would probably be happier staying as a dog.

“I had been a bit disappointed at our fate of being turned into undead after fighting against the denizens of the dark for so long...but it probably beats what she’s dealing with,” Hessel said, scratching his head. Barbara could only nod in agreement.

“Next up is Layla.” As I patted Liliana on the head, I motioned Layla over.

“A pleasure to meet you. My name is Layla.”

“Oh my, how polite. I’m Barbara.”

“The name’s Hessel. Nice to meet you.” The two ghosts returned Layla’s polite bow with bows of their own. It all seemed so normal.

“You can probably tell from her horns, but she’s a white dragon. One thing led to another and her father Faravgi, the leader of the white dragons who had helped us in the assault on the castle, ended up...getting killed...by me. So now she’s in my care.”

The two ghosts were stone-faced.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Wait, Miss Barbara! It’s okay! It was just an unfortunate coincidence!” Layla started to panic as Barbara began to rage. “He was forced out of the demonic kingdom and had to live in hiding. When he happened to meet Alex by chance, he tried to kill him! Alex was just protecting himself, so it wasn’t malicious or anything...”

“Even so, why are you with him?”

“The dark dragons kept me as a hostage. As an apology on behalf of all dragons for my father’s actions in attacking a prince, they gave me to Alex.” Layla explained with a smile how they had expected the prince to do awful things to her. “And so...I ended up becoming his.” Her face flushed a little at that.

Barbara opened her mouth to say something, but eventually closed it, holding her silence. Hessel looked at me with his eyes narrowed, discreetly popping up his pinky finger.

Okay, cut that out! And don’t you dare do that dirty gesture!

“Ahem. A lot happened between us. And as a result, she accepted my true identity and agreed to help. She’s become an invaluable ally to me.”

As I thanked her again, Layla happily reached out and took my hand in hers.

I said stop it, Hessel!

“Oh, like this?”

Hey! Ante, quit copying him! Don’t do that disgusting gesture with Layla and Liliana around!

“Cut it out, you idiot.”

“What hell are you doing?!”

As I turned to rebuke Ante, Barbara gave Hessel a swift smack.

†††

After all that, I spent about a day relaxing to rest my mind and body before returning to the castle by carriage. Being able to spend some quiet time with Liliana and Layla, along with the opportunity I had to talk to Barbara and Hessel, did wonders for my mental health. It was the first time in a long time where a day went by without intense combat training, only doing some light exercise.

“Considering you are only five years old, that is quite strange, is it not?”

No kidding. Though I guessed I was approaching six these days.

But one’s combat senses had a way of dulling really quickly when they spent too long away from battle, so whenever the carriage stopped for a break, Virossa and I engaged in some serious training to keep my battle instincts sharp. I could vividly remember how pathetically I had fought as Zilbagias when my memories were sealed. No experience, no knowledge, dull reflexes. “Dangerous” didn’t even begin to describe it. So I needed to make sure my body and instincts stayed in tip-top shape.

“A night elf Swordmaster?!”

“What the hell?!”

Speaking of Virossa, Barbara and Hessel were scared to death at just the mention of someone like him existing. Well, I guessed they were already dead. But I could understand how they felt. A night elf disguising himself as a human and then mastering the sword sounded ridiculous.

“But he’s also a reason for us to be hopeful. Though he’s pretty strong from a magical perspective, if he transforms into a human and refrains from using magic, the laws of nature still favor him. Which means...”

As undead, Barbara and Hessel would be thoroughly infused with magic. But if they didn’t use magic themselves, there was a chance they could retain their skills as Swordmasters. On top of that, if they could learn Anthromorphy, we could even solve the issue of their bodies.

Enma had failed for ages to make an undead Swordmaster, but she was bending and breaking their souls with force. Barbara and Hessel had decided to cooperate with me of their own free will, so we still had hope.

“But this uh...Anthromorphy? Do you think we really have a shot of learning that?”

“That’s the number one question, isn’t it?”

Learning Anthromorphy required drinking the blood of a live dragon. But for two ghostly Swordmasters, that would be a bit of a challenge. Could I create bodies capable of consumption for them and have them drink from there? Making something that complex was definitely beyond my abilities though. So there was still a lot of room for worry.

“I imagine having them possess any random corpse could be possible,” Ante suggested, but neither I nor the Swordmasters were particularly fond of that idea. Even if it sounded promising, the idea itself was vile. At best, it would be our last resort.

By the way, Barbara and Hessel were currently in stasis in some of the bones I carried with me. That helped me save on magic and kept them from gradually decaying. I had just acquired my own Necromancy laboratory, so I was intent on getting them proper bodies so they could live comfortably until the final battle.

“Welcome home, Lord Zilbagias.”

After arriving at the castle town, I spent some time playing with Liliana until Sophia returned on another carriage, having been sent ahead to deliver the news of my return.

“Hey, long time no see.”

Sophia paused at my casual greeting, staring intently at my face.

What’s with her?

“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking that your break must have paid off. You seem to be back to your old self.”

My heart skipped a beat. Sophia had been sent ahead while I was still in demon prince mode. I couldn’t underestimate this devil. After all, she had known me since the day I was born. But for now, it seemed like my cover hadn’t been blown.

“Yeah, after getting back from the battlefield, I feel a lot less...tense.” One could say I had gotten my feelings in order. “I was also able to spend some quality time relaxing with Liliana and Layla.”

“Woof!” Liliana jumped up to lick at my face.

Sophia gave me a gloomy look. “I see. A relaxing, tender, enrapturing time, huh?”

“Uh...yeah?”

What’s up with that weird emphasis?

“By the way, my lady has offered a suggestion for your return,” she continued, immediately switching into a more serious tone. “She recommends that instead of returning by carriage, you should ride Layla up to the dragons’ landing platform and rendezvous with the Demon King directly.”

Wow. After how staunchly she had pushed back on me riding Layla at all, Prati was now suggesting that I ride her on my way home? Talk about a turnaround. That change of heart must have been because of Konectus. All thanks to Kusemoun. But that still begged the question...“why?”

“Well...upon the conclusion of their first deployment, it is customary for the demon heirs to parade through town in full war gear, celebrating with their retainers...”

I was struck speechless. After a lengthy pause, I responded, “Riding in by myself would appear improper. So she wants me to fly home.” Seeing Sophia wasn’t champing at the bit to spell it out either, I saved her the trouble of explaining any further with a nod. It would be impossible to hide the fact that all of my retainers had been killed, but it would be a better look for me to return alone on dragonback than to march through the front gates alone.

“Even His Highness Daiagias, who tends to fight alone, always returns with his devil companion. And on his first deployment, he came back with fifty men in tow.”

“Got it. I’ll return home on Layla, then. When is the best time?”

“After the next bell, if you please.” With that Sophia took her leave, getting back in the carriage and making her way to the castle.

“So there you have it, Layla. It’ll be our first ride in a while, right?”

“Yes,” Layla replied, an excited flush to her face as she nodded. Ever since leaving for the front lines, we had been traveling exclusively by carriage. In order to preserve my strength and stamina, we’d avoided flying entirely. But with Prati suggesting it herself, we now had the perfect excuse to fly as much as we wanted!

Layla quickly slipped out of her clothes and reverted to her dragon form while I got my armor on. Donning my Faravgi-scale armor Syndikyos, gauntlets, boots, and helmet, I then jumped up onto Layla’s back.

“I’m really happy we get to fly together again!”

Bright and warm feelings poured into my head from Layla through Konectus.

Yeah, I was happy too. I was really thankful for this magic saddle. We could share our feelings without even formulating them into concrete words. It was like our hearts were melding into one.

After a short wait, the heavy sound of a bell signaling the time resounded from the clock tower.

Let’s go.

“Okay!”

Kicking off the ground, Layla effortlessly launched into the air as if swimming through the sky. Man, takeoffs were always so exciting. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of it.

“I’m glad you enjoy it!”

Layla flapped her wings hard, pulling up into the sky as if in pursuit of the moon itself. She then spread them wide, gliding effortlessly toward the castle’s landing zone for dragons.

And there he was. Holding a spear that looked like the physical manifestation of darkness itself, wearing armor dyed a similar black. My mortal enemy, the Demon King Gordogias. And beside him, wearing an elegant dress and standing tall with pride was my mother, the archduchess Pratifya.

With another flap of her wings, Layla slowed our descent, touching down on the platform with all the gentleness of a falling feather. I pulled myself out of the saddle and dropped to the ground. All eyes were on me. Besides Prati and the Demon King, a number of other high-ranking demons had formed a crowd some distance away.

Among them were the first demon prince Aiogias, his mother, the second princess Rubifya, and the fourth prince Emergias. Calm and cool observation, wild and ferocious smiles, and even a fearful envy marked their gazes.

“Oh...!”

“What is this...?!”

A ripple went through the demonic crowd. Impressed, dumbfounded, and overwhelmed. Perhaps due to the dramatic growth in my magic since my departure, or perhaps because I had the gall to arrive on the back of a white dragon while wearing armor made out of white dragon scales.

But really, the intensity of my magic had an incredible impact on those waiting. Before, I had been a viscount said to be on the level of a count, but now I was quickly closing in on the rank of duke. Even the Demon King himself watched in stunned amazement as I approached. Prati was so moved there were tears in her eyes...

Wait, tears?! A high-ranking demon like her can’t be seen crying in public!

“Welcome home, Zilbagias.” The Demon King stepped forward as he spoke, as if to cover for Prati.

“Sir! I, Zilbagias Rage, have returned from the battlefield.” I gave a proper salute, just like any good soldier would. “I am here to report the fall and capture of Evaloti, the capital of Deftelos.”

“Very good. Conquering a city reinforced by both the Sacred Tree Alliance and the Holy Church in a mere three days is beyond impressive.” The Demon King gave a majestic nod, which soon turned into a bright smile. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Your growth has been splendid. Unbelievable, even. As Demon King, and as your father, I am extremely proud of you.”

Another ripple went through the crowd of onlookers. Seeing the look of shock on the face of Lazriel—Aiogias’s mother—peeking out from behind her fan, I could tell that was an enormous compliment.

“You honor me beyond words, father. Simply being able to stand here...”

The fact I was able to return with the power to challenge the Demon King himself...

“...is an honor,” I declared, voice charged with emotion.

“Good. Come, Pratifya. Wouldn’t you like to say something?” Oblivious to the hidden meaning in my words, the king gave a satisfied nod before slowly turning and urging Prati forward, gauging he had bought her enough time.

“Zilbagias...” After taking a moment to compose herself with a deep breath, a proud smile took to Prati’s face. “His Majesty has already offered all the words I would have shared. Congratulations on your victory. And welcome home.”

The unbridled love in her eyes punched through me like an arrow. But...

“Yes, mother,” I replied with a triumphant grin. Just like any good son would.

†††

Life became dizzyingly busy upon my return to the castle.

After changing into my formal wear, I had a proper audience with the king where I was immediately granted the rank of count. Prati watched on proudly with a smile. Besides her, the hollow praise from the other heirs and their families left quite the impression on me.

According to Prati, after a brief buffer period, I’d be granted the rank of marquis. I had both the magic and the accomplishments in battle to warrant it. My magic alone was enough justification for the rank of duke, but skipping two ranks was a bit too much. At least, for someone who had survived.

After that came the rounds of greeting everyone. First, I exchanged some words with Aiogias and Rubifya.

“You are Zilbagias, right? This isn’t some elaborate disguise?” Aiogias said with a friendly grin, though the cold look in his eyes was unmistakable. “Oh, sorry. I don’t mean to offend. You’ve just grown so much in such a short time. Think of it as the greatest of compliments.”

Though Aiogias praised me in his own twisted sort of way, I couldn’t get over the frigid glare coming from his mother behind him. It was honestly hilarious.

Standing face-to-face with her, I could tell I had already reached her level, if not surpassed it. She no longer felt like a real threat to me. I couldn’t blame the strange looks on the faces of those around us either. This almost-six-year-old kid had already caught up to a demon so strong she was fit to marry the Demon King himself.

“I guess any doubts about your incredible talent have been put to rest,” declared Rubifya, arms crossed as she appraised me like some sort of instructor. “To grow so much after a single deployment, I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of devil you had made a pact with. It’s as scary as it is incredible.” Despite her words, the fiery-haired princess had a fearless smile on her face. “If you join me, I’ll give you plenty of more opportunities to use that spear of yours. Want to head for the top together?”

Like Aiogias, Rubifya was of the highest rank possible in the demonic kingdom—an archduke. The only way to reach even higher than that was to become the Demon King. So, depending on their growth from that point, there could be quite a gap between the strength of different archdukes.

This woman was seriously powerful. The difference between the archduke Rubifya and the archduchess Pratifya was immense. Rubifya’s magic was incredibly dense. And it would only be more impressive once she used Naming to empower herself. It was no wonder she and Aiogias were both being considered for the throne.

And that was also why those two kept such a close eye on me. While Aiogias was more indirect compared to Rubifya’s forwardness, both of them were trying to lure me onto their side. They probably shared a faint suspicion by now that I was planning to stand independent from both of them. But, if by some terrible stroke of misfortune I were to join either side, the entire balance of power between them would collapse instantly.

Poor guys. I must have been a big pain in the butt for both of them.

“I think I will refrain. Did you invite Daiagias to join you the same way?” I replied to her insistent invitation, promptly shattering her facade, resulting in the princess making a face as though she had just been punched in the gut.

“No, not really. I didn’t have to say a word...”

That really seemed to take the wind out of her sails, leading our conversation to a quick conclusion. I could only imagine how it felt to be the target of our sex-crazy brother’s lusts. Really, I didn’t want to imagine it at all.

Next came a visit from the night elves.

“We were thrilled to hear of your quick victory and rapid return!” Sidar, shadow leader of the night elf community, bowed amiably to me.

The news of my retainers being wiped out caused many to be quite hesitant with their praise, so his unrestrained compliments were kind of refreshing. Maybe Veene had told him that I wasn’t so beat-up about the loss.

“Thanks. Whether back here or on the battlefield, the night elves have proven to be invaluable. Both as a prince and from me personally, I have to thank you all.”

After my reply, we both sat in silence with our fake smiles for a while.

“I hear there were not many wounded this time.”

“That is correct, Your Highness,” Sidar replied soberly. With the Rage family having made up the bulk of the forces, there were remarkably few wounded returning from the battlefield. Most of those injured had been healed on the spot. Though such healing was usually controlled strictly by quotas, things were different on the battlefield. There was no shortage of “targets” for Transposition, and pushing your allies’ wounds onto enemies in the midst of battle was in and of itself a powerful attack.

I could only be happy that demons were so barbaric. If they had the cruel cunningness of the night elves, they’d probably go into battle with dismembered humans on their back. Luckily, any such behavior would bring a storm of criticism for cowardice. It was a trick they might try and pull in times of desperation, but it wasn’t something they could do openly and regularly. Thankfully. I couldn’t have been any more glad that demons had nothing but muscles for brains.

“I heard there were quite a few powerful enemies among the defenders this time.” Sidar gave a reserved look. “They tell me those grass munchers were quite active on the battlefield.”

“Yeah. The barrier that the Sacred Tree Alliance put up was a real pain.” I nodded along. Grass munchers? Must be some kind of insult toward the forest elves.

“There’s also word that you went up against a squad of enemy elites yourself. My deepest condolences for what happened to your subordinates.”

Ah, so we were finally here. Guess he figured I preferred facing issues like this head-on rather than having everyone walking on eggshells around me.

“Thanks. I hear things were pretty bad on your end too.”

“Yes...even a number of my own family did not make it home.”

I see. Even though very few wounded had returned from Evaloti, the number of casualties was extremely high. In particular, there were huge losses among the demons and night elves. If not for our swift work conquering the capital, we’d be laughingstocks among the demonic families by now.

“But even so, I am beyond thrilled to see you have returned safely. Not to mention your incredible accomplishments.” Sidar put a hand to his chest, turning a serious look on me. “You are truly the hope of our people, Your Highness. The kindness you have shown us has already saved countless lives! I would once again like to reaffirm our loyalty to you, and assure you we continue to pray for your success.”

So Sidar hadn’t been able to piece together who exactly had been responsible for all the night elf deaths. A dark feeling started to spread in my chest.

“Thank you, Sidar.” But I just thanked him, not letting those feelings show. “Your loyalty makes me quite happy. I look forward to continuing to work with you.”

But that’s just what revenge was, right? At least, Sidar himself had said something along those lines on the day I rescued Liliana. So that was how things had to be.

“Likewise, Your Highness!” Sidar dropped to one knee as though he was taking part in some sort of stage performance. But more than some famous actor, he looked to me like the world’s biggest clown.

After parting ways with Sidar, I got a visit from Enma. But I don’t think I’m going to talk much about that.

Why, you ask? “Ziiiiiil! I missed yooouuu!” she cried as she jumped on me, constricting me in a hug that nearly snapped my ribs. I feigned anger regarding it, so she thankfully left rather quickly. Knowing her, she’d likely be back apologizing with tears in her eyes (once she had added the ability to cry to her body), so I’d be nicer to her then. Then I’d be able to get some good lessons on making undead from her.

After getting through all the meet and greets, I found myself back in Prati’s room, sharing a meal with her. She asked me all kinds of questions about the battle. Honestly it was the kind of stuff that would dull my appetite, but the food was so good that I was able to enjoy the meal anyway. Being able to taste food properly was great. It also served as a good measure of one’s mental state.

“You’ll be granted the rank of marquis in a few days, I imagine. Though personally, I believe you are more than qualified for the rank of duke,” Prati said, taking a sip of wine. The candlelight from the table did a good job of accentuating both her beautiful features and the affection in her expression.

“Considering my age, I’m happy with what I’ve been given,” I replied, taking a sip of my own grape juice. I’d had my fill of watered-down wine on the battlefield, but this stuff tasted way better. Guess I really was a kid, huh?

“I suppose you’ll be turning six soon...” Prati said, staring intently at me for a moment before she burst out laughing. “Marquis before reaching the age of six. Talk about unprecedented. The kind of thought that makes you laugh.”

Sometimes I wondered if she had forgotten how old I was, but it seemed she remembered after all. By the way, my birthday was coming up in a few days. Though demons didn’t really celebrate birthdays outside of the coming-of-age day.

“You will be receiving all kinds of bonuses and rewards for your promotion. Feel free to partake in them as you wish. But remember, it’s not all fun and games,” Prati said, placing her glass on the table as she stared into the candle. “As their superior, you have an obligation to provide some words of consolation and monetary compensation to the families of Kuviltal and the others.”

My stomach immediately sank. I took another sip of juice. It was okay, I could still taste it.

“A letter should suffice should you become extraordinarily busy, but seeing them in person would appear much better. Especially considering their loved ones served directly under you.”

“I...suppose so.” It was a problem I couldn’t avoid. I had this one last obligation I had to fulfill. “When I get the chance, I will visit the Rage territory again.”

“Good. If you go alone, you can make the trek quick using Layla.”

She really had accepted Layla, huh? It was too funny.

“Mother, about my retainers going forward...”

Prati paused. “Yes?”

“Now that I have experienced real combat, I can say with confidence that fighting on my own is much easier.”

Prati’s face clouded over. “Is that so?”

“In the end, I always had to be cautious to ensure my subordinates didn’t get caught up in my magic. I wasn’t really able to fight at full strength until...that Swordmaster’s surprise attack. To be completely honest...” They had just been in the way.

That was both a lie and the truth. Yes, Alba had proven to be a big help when I was in a pinch, but I had only taken half of the power Ante was holding for me. If I had accepted the rest of it, I could have ended things in an instant. But growing to the level of an archduke after a single battle would have seemed far too suspicious. So I guess Alba had saved me in more ways than one...

“I see...” It seemed like Prati had more to say, but instead she simply took another sip of wine. “Well, if that’s your opinion, I think you have proven that you are strong enough to know what you are talking about.”

And so from that day onward, I no longer had retainers.

†††

The next day, I headed to the dwarven forge to get some maintenance work done on Syndikyos. Once I got the body issue sorted out for Barbara and Hessel, I’d need to get swords made for them too...

“Welcome.”

“Your Highness.”

The guards welcomed me, as usual. Then I was greeted by a blast of hot air as the doors to the forge swung open, as usual. The dwarves here put everything they had into their work, as if being prisoners of war wasn’t a thought in their minds.

“Call Fisero for me.” I had one of the younger smiths go looking for their chief.

Speaking of which, I supposed the other me gave his name to that unit of forgeknights. Should I tell him about that? Making it known he worked for demons might have been a stain on his honor, but at the same time he could be glad that his comrades knew he was still alive. I’d have to try and find out which he preferred.

“Yo, Zilbagias. Welcome back.” As I puzzled over this conundrum, I was surprised by a voice coming from behind me. That languid yet charming voice that carried so well could only belong to one person.

“Oh, Daiagias. It’s been a while,” I turned around and greeted him casually. Upon doing so, I immediately felt like I had been punched in the face. “Daiagias?!”

My mouth dropped open. Even Layla beside me let out a quiet gasp. At the same time, Ante gave an impressed hum. Behind me stood Daiagias, striking a pose for some reason.

“D-Daiagias?! What... What are you wearing?!”

He was clad in straps of leather that did very little to hide his muscular frame. It was obvious at a glance that this was Kusemoun’s work.

“I’ve fallen in love,” he said, flipping his platinum blond hair.

Thankfully his pants were a more solid leather, keeping all the necessary parts hidden. But his upper body was an entirely different story, wrapped in belts adorned with all kinds of fangs and horns that didn’t cover him in the slightest. At the same time, he was wearing fur around his neck and shoulders, giving himself a mysteriously stylish flair. It was like the barbaric fashion of the demons had been refined to the extreme.

Refined barbarism. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but that was the best way I could describe it.

“Nice to see you again, Your Highness.” A black-haired woman poked her head out from behind Daiagias, the prim and proper Devil of Lust, Libidine.

The Devil of Lust’s attire caused Layla to gasp, while Ante once again gave an all too enthusiastic exclamation. Not to mention Ante’s breathing was also starting to get pretty heavy.

Sorry. Let me correct myself. There was absolutely nothing prim nor proper about Libidine. Just like Daiagias, she was decked out in the same style of spiky belts wrapped around her in lieu of clothing. It barely...barely covered what needed to be covered. But, at the same time, it squeezed her in all the right places to perfectly enhance Libidine’s shapely body. It was impressive, to say the least.

“What do you think? Does it look good on me?”

“They were just finished!”

Daiagias showed off the outfit with a twirl, flipping his hair once again, before Libidine wrapped herself very suggestively around him.

“I...suppose. It does look good on you.”

If I had to give a yes or no answer, then it was undeniably “yes.”

“That’s...Kusemoun’s work?”

“Yes, it’s her latest,” Daiagias replied, stroking the fur around his neck with a satisfied smile. “I have been wearing her pieces as undergarments for quite some time now, but a thought occurred to me just the other day. With the weather getting warmer, why not wear them as regular clothing?”

...Why the hell would that thought cross your mind?

“But life isn’t one giant naked festival, so I couldn’t wear the usual pieces like that as they’d show off just a bit too much. At least that’s what others told me. So I had her make something a bit more conservative.”

And thank goodness for that. Whoever had talked that tiny bit of sense into him, I loved them.

“So you ended up with that...style...” I guessed there was no accounting for taste. After all, I wasn’t really in a position to complain about it.

“I have to say, it turned out wonderfully.” While I was cringing backward, Daiagias continued to strike pose after pose, showing how the outfit emphasized his muscles. “Madame Kusemoun also added the ability for it to regulate temperature, so I stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Honestly, it’s quite the flawless piece.”

He’s planning to walk around wearing that in the winter too...?

“But when it comes to this Bon Dage Style, I must apologize for one thing, Zilbagias.” Daiagias suddenly turned a bit more reserved.

Why in the world would he have to apologize to me? Now I’m getting worried.

“Uh, why call it ‘Bon Dage Style’?” I interrupted.

“To honor the designer, Kusemoun Bon Dage, of course.” Judging by the look he was giving me, it seemed like that was a stupid question. I guess that was her full name, then. “I’ve recommended the Bon Dage Style to a number of my friends, so actually it has started to take off a bit among the younger demons in the castle.”

“I-I see...”

“And since I have been such an ardent supporter of the style, people are attributing its origin to me!” He scowled, clenching a fist in frustration. “When in reality, you deserve all the credit. I’m sorry. It must look like I’ve stolen your valor.”

“Uh...”

Steal as much valor as you like. It brings me nothing but shame.

“I’ve tried correcting people when I can, but it is difficult to uproot a rumor that has already started spreading.”

Stop it! I don’t need you attaching my name to this thing!

“Please, I don’t mind at all!” As much as this news made me want to say goodbye to reality and space out entirely, I nevertheless got a hold of myself and cut off his monologue. “It’s true this whole thing started because I had Layla wear it, but...” What was I supposed to say now?! “But...really, I wasn’t able to spread the style one bit. Honestly, I was nothing more than the initial spark. You’re the one who fanned the flames, turning it into a real phenomenon!” I nodded to him, clenching a fist. “This is without a doubt your accomplishment. It is no exaggeration to say its true origin is with you!”

Please! Please be convinced...!

“Zilbagias...” Daiagias smiled, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

How so?!

“A demon relinquishing their accomplishments and honor to another is quite bizarre, but...personally, I admire that kind of attitude.”

Like I said, this is far more of an embarrassment than an honor. I already had enough attention on me because of the battle, I don’t need any more due to something weird like this!

“Understood. In deference to your generosity, I will refrain from correcting people in the future. I’m sorry, Zilbagias.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind. Seriously, this accomplishment is all yours.”

“Thank you. So, are you here to order something from Madame Kusemoun?”

“No, I have other business.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose you have only recently returned from the front lines. Speaking of which, congratulations. I heard you made quite a name for yourself. Seems to me you’ve grown quite a bit too. I’ll have to work hard to keep up.”

With a wave, Daiagias took his leave while Libidine was wrapped around his arm...and her tail wrapped around his leg.

Man, he didn’t have much to say about my accomplishments in battle, huh? He didn’t seem to care much about my retainers being killed either.

“My apologies for the wait, Your Highness.” With that storm of a meeting having passed, Fisero finally showed himself.

“N-No problem. It’s been a while...”

“I am glad to see you are well. What brings you today? Maintenance?”

“That’s right. May I request your services?”

Layla pulled Syndikyos out from the bag we had used to carry it here. The sight of her pulling a suit of armor crafted using her own father’s scales out of a bag brought a distant look to Fisero’s eyes, but he said nothing.

“There do not appear to be any major problems. I will do some minor adjustments here,” he said with a nod after giving the armor a brief inspection. He must have been able to tell from the gleam of the scales that I had kept my promise to avoid harming any dwarves.

“By the way, that armor came in handy,” I started speaking carefully. “I ended up encountering some dwarves, and they demanded I tell them who made it.”

At that, not just Fisero, but all the dwarves within earshot stopped what they were doing.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I was worried it would tarnish your reputation, so I hesitated to give them your name. That was until they pretty much said, ‘If you won’t tell us, we’ll have to find out for ourselves.’ Then they started attacking me...” I gave a bitter smile.

“If any dwarves show up, just leave them to us!”

Right. It would have been so much easier if that had been possible.

“I had no choice but to run away.” I shrugged.

Fisero’s eyes widened briefly before closing for a stretch of time. “Is that so? Thank you for keeping your word.”

“Of course. By the way...if I run into forgeknights like that, what would you prefer? Should I give them your name?”

“I...appreciate your concern, Your Highness. There is no need to be cautious regarding my reputation’s merit. If they ask, please feel free to sate their curiosity.”

So it was a good thing I had told them, then. Maybe he had someone back home hoping for his survival after all.

“Got it. If I get another chance, I’ll tell them you’re doing well.”

“Many thanks.”

I could only imagine how complex his feelings were, but nevertheless, the steely-faced smith bowed his head deeply.

†††

A few days later, it was time for our usual lunch as the Demon King’s family. Arriving a little early, I was immediately taken aback.

“Hey, Zilbagias.”

Because Daiagias was already there, still wearing his Bon Dage Style outfit.

“H-Hello, Daiagias.”

Though actually looking closer, it was a bit different than what he had been wearing the other day. Had he ordered more...?

Spinezia, already deep into the appetizers, was watching us with interest as she shoveled food into her mouth.

“That’s a new outfit again, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It is. I figured you’d catch on quickly to the change,” Daiagias said proudly. The Gutsy Gorger turned a look on me, as if to ask if I was in the same camp as Daiagias.

Stop it. Please don’t bundle me together with this guy.

Actually, over the past few days, I had seen a number of demons walking around the castle in similar outfits, apparently inspired by Daiagias.

“The trend is really catching on,” Ante commented.

I didn’t want to admit it...but some of the responsibility for that was on me.

“Don’t you feel cold wearing something like that?” Shortly after my arrival, the green bastard reared his ugly head, sighing as he took his seat. He didn’t seem particularly impressed. Did he have a sense of style much closer to mine? Being similar in any regard to that seaweed head made me want to vomit. Maybe I should give that Bon Dage Style a real try after all...

“Whoa.”

Next to arrive was Rubifya, carrying Sleeping Beauty on her back, immediately cringing from the “passion” Daiagias was exuding.

“Rubifya! You are as beautiful as ever today.”

“Wh-What on earth is that outfit?!” she exclaimed, plopping Topazia down roughly into her chair. Wait, was the great second princess actually getting flustered?! Was she really impressed by his outfit?!

“It is called Bon Dage Style. It has grown quite popular recently. Doesn’t it look daring?” Daiagias said, standing up to strike a pose.

“I-I...um...well, I guess it isn’t terrible...”

Excuse me?! Miss Rubifya?!

“I’ll send you some, if you like.”

“They make it for women too?! I-I mean, no! No thank you!” Rubifya waved her hands around emphatically. “More importantly, what is father going to say when he sees you wearing that?!”

Well, speak of the demon, the door swung open as it made way for the Demon King to enter the room. Wasn’t he a bit early?

“Good, looks like almost everyone is here... Daiagias?! What are you wearing?!” he shouted before taking two steps inside. Uh-oh. It looked like the cutting-edge Bon Dage Style had upset the king...

“How bold! Daring, even!”

Mister Demon King?!

I did a double take. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the green bastard had almost the same reaction as mine.

“Ah, so this is the newest style? It looks quite functional.” Daiagias struck another pose while the Demon King nodded to himself, circling his son to get a good look before taking his seat.

“Yes, it is a great piece, father,” Daiagias replied, far more alert and attentive than he’d ever been during our previous meals.

“Oh, it appears I’m last to arrive,” Aiogias said as he stepped into the room, expression clouding over as he caught sight of the already-present Demon King. “That’s unacceptable of me. Am I late, father?”

“No, I just happened to arrive early today. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank goodness. Ah, is that the new Bon Dage Style I’ve heard so much about?”

Sharp-eyed as he was, he quickly took notice of Daiagias’s outfit—

“That hardly requires sharp eyes,” Ante commented.

Yeah, I guessed that was true. Anyway, he seemed to have taken a keen interest in it.

“It’s quite something. It has a rather refined look about it, doesn’t it?”

Please come back, first Demon King! Talk some sense into these guys!

The green bastard was staring at his boss Aiogias with open astonishment.

“You think so too?” the Demon King asked, scratching at his beard with a serious look in his eyes.

“Indeed. Are you fond of it as well, father?”

“It’s rather stirring, while at the same time appearing to be much easier to move in compared to the usual clothing of the nobility.”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it? I am also partial to how it doesn’t obscure one’s natural body, allowing one to display their musculature proudly.”

The two began assessing the outfit as Daiagias continued to strike poses.

“The ornamentation with fangs, bones, and furs is also excellent. It is undoubtedly cutting-edge, but at the same time calls back to traditional demonic culture.”

“Precisely! That’s exactly right, Aiogias!” The Demon King slapped his own knee. “I’ve long felt at odds with the noble clothing that has been customary since the time of my father! It felt too much like we were trying to take the culture of the humans for ourselves!” he exclaimed, rubbing a hand down his (barbarian-styled) rich clothing. “But I’ve never seen anything quite like this Bon Dage Style before. And is that magic I’m feeling from it, Daiagias?”

“That’s right. It is enchanted to regulate the wearer’s temperature, so it is comfortable to wear in any environment.”

“So not only does it avoid the use of excessive ornamentation, but it also has a remarkably utilitarian enchantment on it! What an exceptionally powerful aesthetic!” It seemed Aiogias was thoroughly impressed.

“But the creator...”

“Yes, father. It is dwarven-made.”

“Ah, dwarven...” The Demon King was clearly disappointed to learn that it was the work of another race.

“But from what I hear, you are the originator of this style. Is that not the case, Daiagias?” Aiogias said, a smug look on his face as if he had seen through a clever guise.

Daiagias’s gaze flickered toward me.

I shook my head quite vigorously.

Not me. I’m not responsible for any of this. I swear. All the fame is yours, Daiagias!

“Yes...there is no hiding it. It’s as you heard, I am the originator of the Bon Dage Style.”

He did it! He said it!

“The creator is a dwarven craftswoman who specializes in leatherwork.”

“Of course it is a woman,” the green-headed toilet stain muttered.

“Originally the pieces she created were entirely made of leather,” Daiagias continued,
“but she incorporated fangs, horns, and furs into the design at my suggestion. That is how the current style came to be.”

“I see! So this refined look is really your brainchild, then!” The Demon King seemed to retake some of his previous excitement.

“I suppose so,” Daiagias replied with a flip of his hair.

“It seems we are witnessing a new flowering of culture,” the king rumbled, crossing his arms while sinking back into his chair. And then, after taking a moment to think, he said, “Perhaps we should adopt it as formal wear.”

Everyone stared at the king with undisguised shock.

“Formal wear?” Even Daiagias was surprised.

Yeah— Hold up. You don’t get to be surprised! What are you doing?

“I was thinking of wearing it as casual clothing,” the third prince continued.

“Of course, I don’t intend to make such a change in the near future. Rather, it would be best to continue wearing it around the castle, spreading the style among your friends. With popularity, both the strengths and weaknesses of the style will come to light, helping to refine it even further. You will become a core part of advancing demonic culture,” the king said seriously, sipping at the premeal tea that had just been served. “Demonic culture is too shallow. There’s more to ruling a continent than just using our strength to overwhelm the other races. These past two hundred years of our kingdom’s rule has provided stability, so it is about time we start setting our sights on new heights,” he said, his voice turning passionate as he stroked his (barbarian-style) rich clothing.

“The demons who first left the sacred ground, particularly the younger ones, quickly latched on to the attractive and comfortable clothing of humans. The older demons despised them for showing such weakness, but the truth is that such clothing provides a utility beyond that offered by simple furs. As a result, along with their visual appeal, the first Demon King accepted them as formal wear in no time at all. However...” He plucked at one of the fangs serving in place of a button on his shirt. “It is still fashion borrowed from another race. I feel that influence seeping into our culture. No amount of fangs or horns adorning them changes the fact it is still human clothing at a fundamental level. It is like a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing, then adorning it with fangs and bones to try and appear fiercer. It’s comical, no?”

Rubifya began to squirm, wearing her bright red dress as she was.

“I can understand the feelings of the old guard, those who put so much emphasis on combat gear and refused to take part in wearing this noble clothing. But we are not savages who can simply return to wearing furs and pelts like in the old days...”

So he accepts that they were once savages, huh?

“However! That is where this new Bon Dage Style comes in!” The Demon King turned to face Daiagias again. “It emulates the old style’s use of furs and bones, yet has unquestionable technical expertise behind it. This could be the symbol for a new era in the demonic kingdom. Of course it being originally dwarven-made is a considerable flaw, but demons should be able to imitate the design themselves if they forgo the enchantment. If we continue to develop it, it could become something truly unique to demonic culture!”

Aiogias nodded eagerly as the king delivered his speech. As he was the oldest heir, it was likely not the first time this conversation had come up between him and the king. It was possible Aiogias also had his own misgivings regarding the clothing of the demons.

“As such, Daiagias, keep developing that style until we can call it something uniquely demonic.”

“Understood, father!” Daiagias replied, uncharacteristically motivated. “But if the plan is to develop it like so, should you not try it for yourself?”

“You make a good point.” The Demon King nodded. “I suppose I should order myself an outfit, then.”

“Are you serious?!” the green bastard all but shrieked.

“Of course,” the king replied with the utmost sincerity.

“I suppose I’ll also take up the opportunity. Perhaps the great frost wolf pelt I acquired this winter will look splendid in this style.” Aiogias chuckled, eager anticipation in his voice.

“It does look interesting. Maybe I’ll give it a go too,” Spinezia added as she finished off another plate. Even the Gutsy Gorger was getting in the mix.

“Now that father has approved, I will have to send you your outfit after we eat,” Daiagias said, turning an uncharacteristically bright smile on his older sister.

“I-I don’t need... Wait, ‘after we eat’?” Rubifya stammered.

“Of course! I already had one made just for you.”

“Why?!” She jumped out of her seat.

This was bad. The Bon Dage Style was taking over the royal family. At this rate...!

The green toilet stain and I shared an incredulous look before quickly averting our eyes. Why was he the only other sane one here?!

After that, the appetizers were brought out and the meal began, but the conversation continued to be heavily dominated by the new Bon Dage Style. I couldn’t tell whether I was lucky or unlucky that the topic of my deployment was entirely skipped over.

The use of skins and fangs as material were a great match for one of demonic culture’s preferred pastimes—hunting wild animals—so aside from the green bastard and myself, the guys were really excited to discuss what would make the best materials to work with.

Rubifya even crossed the aisle a bit as she picked the Gutsy Gorger’s brain about the best ways to enhance the beauty and strength of the style. It ended up being some of the liveliest chatter I’d ever seen at one of these meals.

Though, as an unfortunate consequence, it seemed the Bon Dage Style was almost guaranteed to become the centerpiece of the kingdom’s formal wear someday.

“It seems even demons have their good side,” Ante quipped. Maybe I’d have to get her one of those outfits too. Kusemoun would be over the moon to get an order like that...

“Now then, are there any other matters that need to be discussed?” the Demon King asked, sipping on his postmeal tea once we had worked through the mousse served for dessert. The pleased looks on the faces of everyone else following the meal was in stark contrast to the hollow expressions on the seaweed head and myself. “Good. You are all dismissed.”

The Demon King had barely closed his mouth before Daiagias bolted from the room. He seemed pretty excited about the outfit he had had Kusemoun whip up for Rubifya. In terms of gauging Rubifya’s expression, it was about ten percent anticipation, ninety percent terror. I could understand how she felt. Any gift coming from Daiagias I’d give an eight or nine out of ten chance of being beyond belief.

“Oh right, Zilbagias.” As I moved to stand, the Demon King called out to stop me, placing his cup down on the table. “You stay.” His expression made it clear he was already back in business mode. “I’d like to discuss the potential handling of Evaloti and the prisoners of war.”

The surrounding air froze. Prisoners of war from Evaloti. Just hearing those words made the wonderful meal I had just finished ready to burst back out of my stomach. If the Demon King himself was bringing it up, it couldn’t have been some small matter. Had they managed to capture a significant portion of the capital’s population? But what did that have to do with me? I was also curious why he had mentioned dealing with Evaloti itself.

Rubifya gave a curious hum at the Demon King specifically signaling me out, but otherwise said nothing as she picked up Sleeping Beauty and took her leave. Aiogias also gave a disheartened murmur, glancing at the clock on the wall before leaving the room with a somewhat disappointed look on his face.

“See you next week, then,” the Gutsy Gorger said cheerfully, leaving with another plate of dessert in tow. That was the first time I’d seen her eating while she left.

Come on, have some manners.

Finally, all who remained were the Demon King, myself...and the green bastard.

“Do you need something?” the king asked, turning to Emergias.

“No...but you mentioned the treatment of Evaloti.” Straightening his posture, Emergias shot me a quick glance before returning the king’s gaze. “As the Izanis family spearheaded the capture of western Deftelos in its entirety, I assumed the discussion would be relevant to our interests as well. Or did you intend this conversation to be confidential?”

Man, what a punk. He basically outright said, “Let me listen in.”

“Hmm... I suppose it is not strictly confidential, but...” After thinking for a moment, “Well, no matter. It will be public knowledge soon enough. You may join us if you wish.”

Upon being granted the king’s permission to stay, Emergias flashed me a triumphant sneer.

What the hell, you picking a fight with me? I’ll kill you right here, right now. Bastard.

“Relax, relax. Now is not the time to unleash your inner thug.”

I took a quiet, deep breath at Ante’s chiding. I was still calm. For now.

“Actually, Zilbagias, I was thinking of appointing you governor of Evaloti.”

But all of my calm rationality was blown to pieces by the king’s casual remark.

“Huh?!” Emergias and I exclaimed in unison.

Governor? Governor?!

“Yes. I’ve been pondering how to alter the course of our kingdom a little. Until now, we have been entirely focused on exterminating or enslaving the native populations of the lands we conquer, but now I am contemplating the idea of offering them some measure of self-governance. I am thinking about creating an autonomous zone for the people of the Deftelos of old, centered around Evaloti.”

As he said, the demonic kingdom had seen humans as no more than cattle to be enslaved or slaughtered for years upon years. Why the sudden change?

“What purpose would that serve, father?” As I sat too stunned to offer a reply, Emergias spoke up in my place.

“Well, you see... Stegnos.” At the king’s command, the rear door of the room opened to offer admission to the goat-headed devil butler, carrying an assortment of documents. “Look at these. I want to hear your opinions.”

Stegnos divided the rather hefty stack of papers in two and laid them out in front of Emergias and myself. The documents covered a wide array of topics. One such topic was the production of various types of crops along with statistics over the past several decades and such. It seemed production had been slowly climbing over the years. There was also information on fishing and livestock. Those bastards even included the human slaves in the Rage territory in their livestock numbers. All of those assholes would get their just deserts one day. And what was this? Conflicts between demons that the Demon King had judged over himself? I was always hearing about disputes over water rights, but there was a surprising amount of livestock theft as well. Demons on the fringes of society were pretty poor, I supposed. There were also some records regarding conflict between beastfolk tribes as well. A lot involving livestock theft. There was even one report from a king of the beastfolk. How about that?

I finished looking over everything before Emergias had made his way through his stack.

Come on, idiot. Hurry up and finish. I need to read the other half.

I waited “patiently,” staring at Emergias as he perused the documents. Eventually he caught notice of my gaze, giving an unpleasant frown as he leafed through the last few pages quickly before tossing me his stack. We traded.

Among the documents was survey data from the Corvut family, including population estimates for demons, beastfolk, and night elves within the kingdom. There were even some treatises on the idea of price-fixing the kingdom’s foodstuffs, plus an analysis on the kingdom’s economic flow. They really dug deep for this stuff, huh? But wait. With these population estimates and the food production information from the previous documents...and taking into account the balance of agriculture, livestock, and fishing in the kingdom...

I looked up and met eyes with the Demon King, who returned my look with an amused smile.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I glanced to my side, where Emergias was still reading through his stack. His gaze snapped upward with a gasp, but as much as the unsettled look in his eyes clearly showed he wanted to say something, he held his tongue.

“What do you think, Zilbagias?” the Demon King repeated.

“The growth in our food production seems rather...poor.”

The Demon King chuckled.

“It seems to be growing steadily to me,” Emergias muttered, shifting his gaze back to the documents in front of him. It seemed he hadn’t put the pieces together. The Demon King most certainly did though. And he knew I did too.

“Yes, it’s growing,” I muttered, “but not at a rate to keep pace with the kingdom’s growth. It won’t be able to support these population numbers.”

Emergias gave a startled look and started rereading his papers.

“That’s right. But it’s a bit more complex than that.” The king sighed with a smile. How was it more complex? I looked back to the papers before me, focusing on the explosive growth expected among the beastfolk and the much slower growth among the night elves...and then I gasped.

That was it. I was unconsciously reading all these numbers from a human perspective. But these weren’t humans we were talking about! More than anything, the people of the demonic kingdom tended to be closer to carnivorous.

I remembered Garunya had mentioned how she’d get itchy if she ate too many baked sweets. The beastfolk village I visited before encountering Faravgi preferred hunting to supply their food over farming. When it came to the beastfolk tribes that submitted to the demonic kingdom, they were primarily races that heavily depended on meat, like cats and tigers. On top of that, there were the night elves. There was a reason they ridiculed the forest elves for being “grass munchers,” as night elves preferred the taste of blood and meat.

Food production in the demonic kingdom was aligned entirely in the wrong direction. The reason agricultural growth was so poor was that the beastfolk in charge of it barely benefited. It only made sense they were inexperienced and unprepared for such a task. But agriculture was still important for feeding livestock... Ah! That was why there was so much livestock theft! Cultivating livestock couldn’t be done in the short-term, so if you were running low, only one option remained—taking from someone else. That led to conflict over what little livestock there was, creating a vicious cycle that weakened the ability to raise livestock altogether. While relying on hunting to supply what they were lacking had worked in the past, with their booming population, the beastfolk were no longer able to bring in enough food from nature.

“What an opportunity,” Ante murmured.

No kidding. I had never expected the demonic kingdom to have such a glaring weakness. It didn’t matter how strong their magic was. If they ran out of food, they’d starve all the same. The kingdom relied on the beastfolk for all of their simple labor. If those beastfolk were reduced to animals by starvation, sapping them of their ability to work entirely, war would be the least of their problems.

But wait. The Demon King knew all this. And he wanted to talk to me about it. I was going to be a governor? He was going to recognize Deftelos as an autonomous human state within the kingdom? Why? What strengths did humanity have that the demons lacked?

I thought back to the scenery outside my carriage’s window. Fields of grain, stretching far beyond where the eye could see. Western Deftelos was a bountiful grain-producing region.

“You intend to have the humans work on food production? You say autonomous region, but really you mean to have them under your direct control in order to provide them a stable environment to focus on producing...”

The king gave a satisfied nod at my rumblings.

I had read through the books on agriculture that were popular in the demonic kingdom. They were human books that had been summarized and rewritten in the demonic script. For better or for worse, it was the kind of stuff written by academics. So while they contained a lot of great theory, the more common, down-to-earth knowledge was entirely absent. For example, how to deal with natural disasters and diseases wasn’t even touched on.

I had been born to a family of farmers in my past life. Though I had forgotten most of what they had taught me, my father and the other older men of our village had told me all sorts of tips and tricks to farming. Giving such academic textbooks to those entirely inexperienced in farming, like the beastfolk, would inevitably lead to poor results.

The best solution would have been to have people with familiarity or expertise in the subject to teach them, but the aggressive expansion of the demonic kingdom had quite violently driven the natives out. Even if there were experienced farmers among the humans they had captured, differences in crop types and soil qualities meant it would be impossible for their knowledge to be applied universally across the kingdom.

Every region had their own unique quirks, but the demonic army had thoroughly exterminated the knowledge of how to handle them. The Demon King had finally realized that and was now making a move to try and improve the situation. Dammit. All they cared about was themselves!

“But father, you would have him serve as governor?” Emergias immediately objected. Apparently even if he wasn’t opposed to the kingdom taking a shift in direction, he wasn’t at all happy with me being assigned to this illustrious new position. “He’s still five years old. Surely such a burden would be too much for him.”

He clearly wanted to say something along the lines of “You’re going to leave it all to this brat?!” However, he had made one fatal mistake.

“Actually, I turned six a few days ago,” I mentioned casually. Emergias looked back at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Even so, six years old is still far too young for such a position,” he recovered, renewing his objection.

“True...but do keep in mind that he spent half a year in the Abyss. His age in this world means very little,” the Demon King replied, crossing his arms as he sat up. “And besides, I am more interested in ability than I am in age. Zilbagias was able to read these documents, ascertain the issue, and extrapolate my intentions from them.” He turned a quiet gaze on Emergias. “Do you not think that demonstrates he is equipped for such a role?”

And the implicit question lurking behind it: Who are you to judge?

Emergias gave a wordless grunt. His hands were clenched so tight under the table it was a bit surprising I didn’t see any blood.

“In addition to that, changing how we deal with humans will greatly impact the Rage family and their healing quotas. Zilbagias’s involvement will allow for adjusting things on the fly with ease. There is also the matter of Zilbagias not having yet aligned himself with either of the two factions. Giving this task to just any of you may cause my actions to be mistaken as favoritism toward one side over the other. A neutral party like Zilbagias is ideal. Though, honestly speaking, Aiogias’s passion for agriculture would have made him an excellent candidate as well,” the king added, softening the harsh atmosphere that was brewing. “However, there is no guarantee the humans will quietly accept the work we will have them shoulder. A perfectionist like him would likely be too overbearing in his management. That would negatively influence our ability to learn from the humans. Demons like us have a bad habit of trying to control everything.”

The Demon King then shifted a glance to me. “For better or for worse, Zilbagias isn’t like that.” It was quite a struggle for me to keep my face composed. “And most of his close associates are members of other races, are they not? As you said, Emergias, he is quite young for the position. That will make him more adaptable when facing what is essentially unknown territory to us. As weak as humans are, one can never underestimate their cunning. Seeing how Zilbagias can negotiate on equal footing with the night elves, I have no doubt he will excel in managing the humans as well.”

The Demon King sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“So, that is why I have chosen Zilbagias for this position.”

Man, things were getting crazy here. The demonic kingdom was going to recognize an independent human state within their borders. But damn, the moment one of the demonic kingdom’s critical weaknesses came to light, I got put in charge of fixing it. What awful luck.

I could mess up on purpose, but that would just get me canned and Aiogias put in my place. And without a doubt night elves and devils would be assigned to my support staff. Fudging the numbers would be all but impossible.

But if I was going to be governor, wouldn’t that mean I was going to have control over a part of the kingdom? Then how was I supposed to treat the humans?! Wait...that was actually a really good question.

“Um...father. If they are being recognized as part of an autonomous zone, does that mean the humans there will be recognized as citizens of the demonic kingdom?” I asked cautiously, earning a confused look from the king.

“Citizens? Why would they?”

“Huh?”

I mean...that’s the implication of an autonomous zone, right...?

“Ah, I see. It appears you have a fundamental misunderstanding,” the Demon King said as he started to laugh.

He seemed to find something humorous about this. But his laugh was cruel, almost sadistic.

“Humans as citizens? Absolutely not. They’re the lowest level of slaves at best. But unlike before, where they were treated as merely livestock, we’ll allow them some level of decision-making. Of course, that will only be rewarded upon producing results.”

Otherwise...

“Don’t misunderstand. The purpose of this autonomous zone is to allow the humans enough freedom so that we can acquire their knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry. We are simply hoping to turn the opportunity we have with the former Kingdom of Deftelos into a stable source of livestock. In the meantime, we will focus our efforts on maintaining order within the kingdom. The stealing of livestock between demons is a rather frustrating issue, but our only choice is to deal with each incident one at a time.” The Demon King groaned unhappily.

“So...the humans will be treated as serfs?”

The king nodded at that. “Serfs. That is a good word for it. Precisely that. But once their knowledge and skills have been passed on to the beastfolk, they will be relieved of their roles. Ultimately, the goal is to gradually replace them with beastfolk,” the king mentioned offhandedly.

Replace. He was going to replace them. That meant...

“With the shortness of human generations, it will be quite difficult to accomplish the task within the span of a single one. But two generations... Yes, about twenty years seems appropriate. After twenty years we will aim to dissolve the autonomous zone. We wouldn’t want the humans to grow too numerous either, so we will begin castrating some of the males to keep the population under control.”

As a demon prince, I should have been ecstatic at the prospect of having human slaves. My job was to squeeze out every last drop of knowledge from them, then toss them away when we were done with them. That’s the kind of city you want me to create...?!

“Zilbagias,” the Demon King spoke my name as he looked back at me. His eyes were full of expectation and empathy, both as a statesman and as a father. “Can you do it?” he asked with a smile. Squeeze knowledge from the humans, fully intending to cull them when their work was done. Manage this autonomous zone we’ve set up, the fancy name we’re giving to this slave camp.

“There is nothing we can do about it,” Ante whispered. “Even if they are destined to live as serfs to one day be discarded, surely such a meager life is better than merely meeting death much sooner. They could have always culled the lot of them and turned them into undead.”

I...suppose you’re right. As small as it would be, they would be allowed to live with some tiny degree of freedom. It was almost as bad as you could get. But very, very slightly above it.

“Besides, there is ample possibility that you will overcome the Demon King within those two decades.” Though her tone contained sympathy, her words were nonetheless short and curt. “So do as you’re told.”

I guess I never really had a choice here. If I were to stubbornly refuse, the Demon King would just hand the job to Aiogias instead. Regardless of which heir took the position, their rule would inevitably be harsh and unforgiving. The humans were destined to be killed anyway, so a few of them dying here or there wouldn’t bother any of the other heirs in the slightest. They might act with a bit of discretion since the primary objective was to draw knowledge out of the humans and motivate them to work, but I was fully aware of what demon “consideration” looked like.

That said, even if I accepted the role of governor, I would have to be the same. There would be little I could do for them without arousing suspicion. The best I could manage was probably providing them healthy conditions and a steady supply of food on the pretense of maintaining their ability to work. If any of them got sick or injured, I doubted I would be able to do anything for them. Those who couldn’t work would be culled, and those who could would be worked to death. All I could do was watch from the sidelines.

And it wasn’t like the war was over either. Once the autonomous zone was established, other captives that were healthy enough to work would likely start pouring in from across the continent. And I would have to unite them all in their slavery. Damn it all to hell.

There was no telling if the prisoners would cooperate. So I could easily imagine what kind of “self-government” they’d be permitted. Governance by fear, something the demonic kingdom was incredibly fond of. Unreasonable and irrational violence would become the norm. Prisoners would be thoroughly screened. Those who were knowledgeable or capable of working would be enslaved, and the rest would be disposed of. They’d spend twenty years trembling in fear, afraid that any misstep could mean their death. All while knowing they were going to die at the end anyway.

Yes, Ante was right. It was better than being killed and turned into undead on the spot. But this was only an ever so slightly gentler way of going about killing them. Even if I were able to defeat the Demon King in ten years...how many of them would still be alive by then? How many would be able to return to their ordinary lives?

“So? What do you think, Zilbagias?” the Demon King asked again.

I guess I could only pretend to be mulling it over for so long.

I suppose...I have to accept...

“Don’t let it bother you so much. Actually, I take that back. Suffer as much as you like.” Ante gave a taunting laugh. “That will only make you stronger. The hero turned demon prince, from protector to tyrant. That discord in your heart is precisely what the authority of Taboo loves. And besides...” Ante all but sighed. “At least it will be easier than killing them by your own hand.Though you will acquire less power, it will not leave you as hurt as you were in the last battle...”

Wait. What was that? Ante, what did you just say?

“Hmm...?” Inside me, I could feel Ante shrinking back...but I didn’t care.

Answer me. What did you just say?

“That you will not be hurt as you were in the last battle.”

No, before that.

“You will acquire less power.”

Further back.

“It will be easier than killing them by your own hand.”

I felt overwhelmed by furious emotion, like something within me had been set ablaze. My whole body started to feel like it was burning. It was all I could do to stop myself from outwardly lashing out.

I didn’t care how much I got hurt. No doubt I’d break like I did back in Evaloti and embarrass myself again someday. But that was fine. As long as I could get back on my feet afterward, everything would work out. I was prepared to suffer for this. And no matter how much it hurt, if it was for the sake of gaining the power necessary to defeat the Demon King, I was prepared to sacrifice the people I had sworn to protect.

But, I had also made a vow. I had vowed that I would not allow a single one of their deaths be in vain. Ante’s words had reminded me of that.

She was right. It would be easier than killing them by my own hand. That was why I couldn’t do it. Even if I were to become governor of this autonomous zone and hordes of people died due to my oppressive rule, I wouldn’t get much power from that. As such, I wouldn’t be committing the taboo with my own hands. They’d just be numbers on a page. Even if I were to read every report of how many people were hurt or killed, it would be only a faint twinge in my heart. The power I gained wouldn’t be enough to justify the sacrifice.

Right? I was a demon prince, and a member of the Rage family. Living a luxurious life of royalty built using everything we had stolen from the Panhuman Alliance. As we were speaking, humans within the demonic kingdom were suffering. Some wounded, some killed so demons could be healed via Transposition. I was aware of all that. But it barely hurt at all.

How much power am I getting from that, Ante?

“Well...”

Barely anything, right? I was lounging here on top of thousands of corpses. But I had been to the battlefield. I had felt the pain of cutting down the men and women of the Alliance with my own hands. Personally killing one person hurt far more than leaving a hundred to die out of sight. Without spilling blood myself, without actually feeling the splitting of flesh and the breaking of bones, I couldn’t face the sin I was committing. I couldn’t feel guilt at the taboo.

That feeling of distance weakened the authority of Taboo. But even so...that didn’t change the fact that one hundred people were dying. A hundred dead, but I gained less power than if I had killed just one myself. It felt like a bonus because I was gaining power without lifting a finger, but that didn’t matter to those who were dead. It wasn’t even funny in the slightest.

I swore, Ante. I swore I wouldn’t let their sacrifices be wasted. And this is very clearly a waste. It isn’t worth it. I knew defeating the Demon King would require sacrifices, but this just isn’t worth it! I can’t accept such an effortless sacrifice!

“Then... Then what will you do?!” Ante all but screamed. “I know your resolve! And I know your recklessness! But what does that mean practically?! What other choice do you have?!”

Accept the role of governor...and then go kill the humans there myself? Is that it?

“What...?”

It would certainly beat letting them be sacrificed for nothing...but no, that wouldn’t work. Trying something that absurd would just end with me getting stripped of my position long before reaching the point of being able to kill them all. The plan for an autonomous zone would still go through, they’d just get more prisoners from somewhere else. People would still be sacrificed for nothing. And my failure would push back any further chance at deployment. It was a self-defeating proposition.

I guess I had been cornered from the moment the autonomous zone was considered. So I needed to think in terms of the basic idea itself. I needed to rethink things from the ground up. The whole plan was still working to compensate for the tremendous weakness I had just discovered in the demonic kingdom.

Even if I were to defeat the Demon King today, the war wouldn’t end. Even if I destroyed the Dark Portal, even if pacts between demons and devils were no longer possible, there were still plenty of powerful demons and devils out in the world. The fighting would still continue.

Weakening the demonic kingdom would mean speeding up the process of wiping them all out. Conversely, if the demonic kingdom was still strong, the fighting would not end for a long time. I was in the best position possible in the kingdom. I could meet with the Demon King himself and use that opportunity to directly influence his policies.

So how could I possibly pass this chance up? There had to be something I could do. Some way to minimize the sacrifices, or at least put them to best use without arousing suspicion. All while continuing to drive a wedge into the cracks in the kingdom.

Think! Use that fantastic new brain you were born with! Use all that knowledge your mother and tutor pounded into you!

“Zilbagias...?” The king was starting to grow concerned. I couldn’t delay any longer.

I forced my shoulders to relax. “I’m sorry. I got a bit lost in thought.”

The king chuckled, a pleasant grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I am quite fond of the way you think. You always take me by surprise. And I take great joy in hearing your thoughts. I would love to take a look in that head of yours to have a glimpse at how it works.”

Thank goodness he couldn’t.

“So? What were you thinking about, Zilbagias?” he asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Well... First of all, yes. I humbly accept the appointment as governor.”

“That is good to hear.”

“But on top of that...” I hesitated a moment, wetting my lips. “I was thinking about how to perhaps utilize the autonomous zone differently from what you originally planned.”

“Oh? How so?” he asked, keenly interested.

I returned his gaze with a resolute look of my own. “I want to propose having the humans be recognized as citizens of the kingdom. Below the beastfolk of course, but citizens nonetheless.” It was exactly the opposite of what the Demon King wanted.

The king’s eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” Meanwhile, the green paperweight we had forgotten about sneered.

“In my estimation, doing so will ultimately result in profit for the kingdom in the long run.”

Okay, this was where the real fight began. I’d take his idea of an autonomous zone and twist it to suit my own objectives. On the surface it would be for the benefit of the kingdom, but at the same time the number of human lives lost would be minimized.

The king frowned with a low hum. Was he disappointed? No, it looked more like concern. That was what I saw in his face.

“I don’t see it,” the king said, lifting his teacup only to find it was empty, resulting in him placing it back down on the table. “Normally when you pose an idea, it immediately makes me realize something new. However, in this case, I don’t understand your intentions,” he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking?”

“I have two primary goals in mind,” I began, maintaining a reserved facade. “The first is to maximize efficiency. This isn’t just about humans, but it’s impossible to ask people to live when they have no hope. Unlike our previously held slaves, we want the people in the autonomous zone to have some measure of proactive motivation in their work. Rather than forcing them to work, I believe leaving them with hope for the future will act as better leverage to use their strengths as a race. Even if that hope is only on the surface.”

Basically, someone trapped in the depths of despair would hardly be motivated to work, even if forced. Dangling hope for the future in front of them would encourage them to work of their own accord.

“I suppose that is true...”

“The Rage family uses human slaves for a similar purpose. Aside from those kept as livestock for use with Transposition, there are craftsmen that make goods used by other slaves and even specialists in areas like music. They are quietly subservient because doing their jobs means they will live to see another day. I am thinking about applying that same principle to the autonomous zone.”

Even if they were technically citizens, they would still effectively be slaves.

“As for their place in society, I suppose I would place them a little higher than the goblins. With their new role, they would become a recognized part of the kingdom’s production network. Meaning they would be offered protections to prevent other high-ranking members of the kingdom from hurting or killing them like they were only wild animals. This is both to provide a measure of security for the humans themselves, but also to facilitate negotiations with the Rage family.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“The Rage family works to produce healthy humans for use with Transposition, giving them a monopoly on this healing ‘quota.’ The limits created by this quota prevent excessive strain being placed on the Rage family, while also securing...their position within the kingdom.”

“So it seems.” The king gave a wry smile, noticing my very roundabout way of avoiding using the term “rights” to describe the Rage family’s position.

“But with the creation of the autonomous zone, wouldn’t things start to become a bit problematic? Demons would start pouring into the autonomous zone, going around taking humans, then bringing them to the Rage family and saying, ‘I’ve brought my own slave to use, so give me a discount.’ One or two cases would be one thing, but I can imagine a flood of people having the same idea.”

“True...”

“In order to avoid that and any other trouble with the Rage family, having the humans of the autonomous zone recognized as citizens could prevent them from being exploited in that sense.”

“I see.”

“If the humans understand they will not be killed for sport or abducted at random, they will have a sense of security that encourages them to work. That will make them plenty useful to us not just for the twenty years you imagine, but for our descendants as well.” I paused a bit before resuming. “From my perspective, I cannot quite understand why you seem so intent on culling humans in general. Unlike beastfolk, they can survive entirely off of grains and produce. The labor they can provide sounds exactly like what the demonic kingdom needs at this stage.”

“So that’s it.” The Demon King nodded, apparently noticing something. “There appears to be a gap in our understandings of what humans are. Perhaps because the Rage family has put them to such good use.” The Demon King breathed a heavy sigh, giving me a troubled look. “You must be ever so vigilant and incredibly cautious in your usage of humans, Zilbagias. It took a great deal of time for the Rage family to successfully weed out the rebellious spirit from the slaves they maintain. If they did not possess their healing capabilities, the cost of doing so would have been entirely untenable.”

I understood that as I had heard all about it during my visit to the Rage territory. Their slaves had fought back for a long time. Escape attempts and uprisings had been everyday occurrences. The humans had used whatever they could to make poison, from wild plants to feces to even rusted metal. And they had constantly made hidden weapons. Neutering that rebellious instinct had been slow and painful work. The human “livestock” they had now was the result of that tremendous amount of time. Though it had taken only a few weeks for a hero to embolden that livestock and turn them into real soldiers. That thought crossed my mind as I remembered Vigo and the other slaves currently in the care of the night elves.

“Even now, the slaves used for Transposition have to be strictly monitored and controlled,” the Demon King continued. “They take far more effort to raise than any other kind of livestock. Allowing them to reproduce is only a recent development. But the human population in the autonomous zone will be an order of magnitude greater than that in the Rage territory. It will be entirely impossible to incorporate the same monitoring methods. And once they are permitted to stay together, they will inevitably try something.”

The king gave me a hard look.

“Let me be frank with you. I am scared of humanity.”

Not only did the king’s unexpected admission take me by surprise, but even Emergias at my side was clearly flabbergasted.

“To put it another way, I respect them tremendously. As an enemy, of course.”

“You?! Afraid of humans?! They are barely insects before you!” Emergias exclaimed, voice almost hysteric.

“And those same insects stung my father, first Demon King Raogias,” the king replied, silencing Emergias’s objections. “The greatest Demon King was killed by a mere human. Few wish to face that reality, so the true nature of his death has not been widely discussed...” The king’s eyes turned distant as he recalled something from long ago. “My father was taken by surprise on the battlefield. A hero hid among a pile of corpses, then struck my father in the back with his sword. Others decried the hero as a coward, but I found it frightening.”

Because...

“That mound of corpses was our doing. We had piled them up the day before. After mowing down a unit from the Holy Church, we burned the bodies. Or so we had thought. But the hero, covered in wounds and skin charred black, had survived. He waited a full day within that stack of corpses, biding his time. He didn’t drink, eat, or even heal his wounds. All out of fear that we might notice him. I can only say it was ill fortune that my father happened to come by at that particular time to carry out an inspection.”

The king murmured as if he was reliving a memory from only the day before. “But I still could not understand. The hero’s magic was nothing special. It was so weak that no one noticed it among the dead bodies. But at the moment he struck, he was cloaked in an unbelievable holy magic, powerful enough to obliterate my father’s defensive wards. He was no Swordmaster. I still have no idea how he managed to do it. The hero succumbed to his wounds on the spot, so we were never able to figure that out. All I can say is that it was a miracle in the truest sense.”

The king turned a heavy, meaningful look on Emergias. “This is not an extreme example. Any seasoned warrior has witnessed events of this nature from time to time. I assume you two are no different, correct? You crossed paths with some pathetic human, barely worth your attention, who did something unexpected that terrified you.” After saying that, the king looked to me. “Though...since you have only had one deployment, maybe not.”

“Actually, I have,” I said, reaching for my neck. Where Barbara had struck me. “I very nearly lost my head, specifically because I underestimated my enemy.”

I remembered the priestess who had charged me at that last moment, bursting with holy magic like an erupting volcano. Maybe the hero that had taken down the first Demon King had had a similar trump card.

“Then you should understand my point.” The king leaned forward, looking hard at me. “What makes humanity terrifying is not their magic. It’s that they are unpredictable. Dragons, dwarves, elves, beastfolk...they all have their strengths, so you can surmise how they intend to utilize them. But humans have no such thing. They make weapons and armor like dwarves, make poison like night elves, overcome the laws of nature like beastfolk, and use magic like forest elves. It is even possible for them to possess horrible holy magic. If a human was really cornered and started breathing fire like a dragon, it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

As a former human, the only reply that came to mind was “Give me a break, breathing fire is absolutely absurd.” Though I didn’t voice my comment.

“They are weak, meaningless creatures. Even still, they always find a way to take you by surprise. Whenever there is an upset on the battlefield, nine times out of ten it is the work of the humans.” The king stopped for a moment. “When my father died, I swore I would never underestimate humanity. That is why I intently exterminate them at every turn. The sole exception being the Rage family’s thorough control. It’s for that reason that I also granted that mad lich that was once human the rank of count.”

Hey, Enma. Did you know the Demon King thinks you’re crazy? And I don’t disagree with him.

“Before you were born, Zilbagias, heroes attacked us from the sky. The thought of suicide units having made their way into the castle itself left me terrified.”

Oh, our plan had you quaking in your boots, did it?

“Luckily, besides that pet of yours, they were all pathetic.”

What was that, you bastard?

Keeping my sudden surge of anger under wraps was a struggle. After all, he was right. We hadn’t even managed to scratch him. Back then, I had been weak. Back then.

“Anyway, we are getting off topic. At any rate, let me answer your question again. My harshness toward humanity is because they absolutely cannot be underestimated. There is no telling what they will do if left to their own devices. You could seal them in a steel box with no opening and they’d still find a way to slip out and stick a poisoned needle into your neck. That’s the kind of insects that they are,” he declared gravely. Right in front of his son, who had been possessed by one of those “insects.”

“That said, the vast majority of them are not of particular concern. But every once in a while, an incredible individual emerges among them. And you want to let those pests grow unabated within our kingdom? While I do wish to extract their knowledge of farming and animal husbandry, surely you can understand why I would seek to exterminate them afterward,” he said with a snort and a sarcastic smile. “If you show them mercy and permit them to live as they wish, they won’t thank you. They will simply turn their fangs on you. Every single weakness you may have, no matter how small, they will obsessively search for and strike when you least expect it.”

I guess he was right. That’s what I would have done.

“An uprising would come about within your autonomous zone in no time. Would you be okay with that?” he said with a playful laugh.

And I replied with a wide smile. “Of course I would.”

The Demon King gaped.

“In fact, that’s exactly what I would want from them.”

The green bastard gave a stunned exclamation of his own.

“That’s part of my second goal. Really, it’s the main one.” Folding my hands on the table in front of me, I spoke slowly and calmly. “The demonic kingdom has a serious contradiction built into its very nature, doesn’t it? The kingdom will be faced with a terrible dilemma. Maybe not in the immediate future, but perhaps one hundred or two hundred years from now.”

The king smiled at my cryptic wording. “And what is this ‘dilemma’?”

“We’re going to run out of enemies.”

The edges of the king’s mouth twitched.

“As the first Demon King wrote in Founding of the Demon Kingdom, demons like us are too belligerent,” I continued. “So far, that warlike spirit has been directed at foreign enemies. That’s why our advance has been so slow, to extend the war for as long as possible.”

But as long as the demonic kingdom continued to wage war, that wall was approaching bit by bit.

“But what will happen when the war is over? When the whole continent is under our control?” What would happen once all the enemies of the demonic kingdom were wiped out? “Where will our love of battle aim next?”

The demonic kingdom itself stood to lose the most from unifying the continent. Without an enemy to unite against, they would return to engaging in the bloody infighting from the days of the sacred ground. The whole point of the war against the Alliance was to stop that from happening. Once that enemy was gone, how were demons going to prove themselves in battle? How were they going to gain rank in the kingdom?

“I see...” The king breathed, eyes wide. “That’s your goal!” He was stunned. It seemed he had figured out what I was trying to talk around. Meanwhile, old seaweed head looked as perplexed as ever.

“Exactly. I want to incite a rebellion in the autonomous zone for us to put down.” If running out of enemies was a problem, we just needed to create more enemies. That was my proposal. “Wiping out humanity would be a waste of a perfectly good resource. Let them live, let them sharpen their fangs. Let them be prey for the demons of the future who seek to prove themselves in battle. That is why humanity exists. That is the greatest value they can offer.”

“But...”

“‘There is no telling what they will do,’ right?” I chuckled. “You said so yourself, father. We demons have a bad habit of trying to control everything below us. Always trying to control things ever so perfectly. That’s why we fail. By letting the humans live with relative freedom, they’ll head in the direction we want them to go.”

I made the shape of a square with my fingers.

“You said you could seal them in a steel box without any holes and they’d still find a way to slip out. That’s because they would have no other choice. So what if that box had a small hole from the start? What if we made them a way out? Surely the insects would flock to it. Think of it this way: Catching insects flying around in pitch darkness is quite difficult. So...” I reached forward, pulling a lit candle on the table toward me. “Why not give them the light of hope? If we do, the insects will swarm around it of their own accord. All without realizing they are not racing toward the light of dawn, but a torch we set up to purposefully deceive them. And once they have flown right into our hands...we crush them.” I clenched by fist over the candle, extinguishing the flame.

The king stared in silence at the thin trail of smoke rising from the candle before me. After a long while, a thin trail of magic emerged from his finger, reaching for and relighting the candle. The light flickered across the dim room, casting wavering shadows over the king’s bluish skin and golden mane.

“What did you have in mind specifically?” the king asked, face serious.

“Rather than a simple autonomous zone, I was thinking of something along the lines of a small nation-state. High-level positions in government, below those of the ministers themselves, would be filled by night elves, devils, hobgoblins, and the like. But the minor officials and those in charge of maintaining public order would be humans. The guards would be given permission to carry weapons.”

They would be given a certain level of freedom.

“Of course, those overseeing the guards and minor officials would be from the demonic kingdom. It would be their responsibility to keep an eye on those under them and reining in those who would rise up in rebellion against us. Though those individuals wouldn’t be arrested. Their reports would always give the indication that the humans of the autonomous zone are loyal.”

But behind the scenes...

“The guards and their close associates would be groomed as potential rebels. The cities and common population would be under surveillance by the night elves, but we would intentionally create zones where that surveillance is lax. The humans will certainly catch on to that right away. That will lead them to storing up resources and personnel in these dark zones.”

The king closed his eyes, listening to my explanation.

“If we know where they are gathering their resources, even if they move forward with their rebellion, we will have a good handle on the scope and direction it will take. Take Evaloti, for example. We could tear down the walls to the castle as a sign of trust and symbol of peace between us and the humans.”

It would create a castle that was easy to attack and hard to defend.

“The important thing is to give them hope. Something they can both easily understand and easily grab on to. No one can live without hope. But on the other hand, if there’s hope in front of them, they’ll cling to it with all their might.”

“What will you do about taxes?”

“I would make them a little higher than those placed on the beastfolk. Let the humans use the excess however they please. The more they grow, the more opportunities demons of the future will have to make names for themselves. We can also adjust the levels of the taxes and demands for labor to modulate when the humans will be most likely to rise in rebellion.”

“And what about the actual point of this whole endeavor, food production?”

“Let the humans produce their food freely. We can glean what we need from their techniques in the field. The goal would be to learn enough to develop a guidebook that can be distributed to beastfolk across the kingdom within a few years. I would also encourage the autonomous zone to focus on raising livestock above crops.”

I tapped a hand on the papers the Demon King had put before us.

“I can’t imagine this livestock theft issue can be settled overnight. Until it has been dealt with, I would have the beastfolk of the kingdom focus on growing things that can become fodder for livestock, like wheat and legumes. These resources can be funneled into the autonomous zone, where the threat of livestock theft won’t be present, so the livestock can be raised in a safe environment before being sent back across the kingdom. If possible, I’d like further expansion of the kingdom to create more of these autonomous zones for the purpose of livestock production bases.”

Then we would just have to wait for the conflicts over livestock to settle...or so it would appear on the surface.

But this was where my true goal resided. While conflict over livestock within the kingdom confused things, a degree of dependency on the autonomous zones would be created due to meat production being outsourced to them. Support from the autonomous zones would become a given. The beastfolk would be unlikely to eat all of the livestock coming to them from the autonomous zones, leading to them likely taking up raising their own livestock once again. But they would continue to live their lives under the assumption they’d have a supply of meat from the autonomous zones.

“Would we not lose that supply of livestock once the autonomous zones rebelled?” the Demon King pointed out. Naturally, that would catch his notice.

“That is why it would be ideal to have multiple autonomous zones. Really, as many as possible. Even if one rebels, there would be plenty of others to keep the supply coming. In order to prevent them from uprising in unison, we’d place the autonomous zones between the territories of the various families in the demonic kingdom. All while strictly controlling any travel in and out of them. Not perfectly sealed, as I said before. We need to have a small hole for them to escape from.”

“But that would still allow the possibility of a unified uprising.”

“There are a number of ways to disrupt the unity between the autonomous zones. Such work is the specialty of night elves. Giving preferable treatment to some groups, or even worse treatment to some, will stir up animosity between the humans and keep them out of step with one another. Humans are incredibly competent when united, but all it takes is one trip up to turn things ugly fast.”

“You say that like you’ve experienced it firsthand,” the Demon King commented.

Whoops.

“I have heard plenty of stories from the night elf spies.”

“I see. You are particularly close with them. Makes sense.”

“In any case, the threat of having their autonomy stripped can be used to apply additional pressure. The night elves are experts at manipulation of this sort.”

“Indeed...”

“Practically speaking, the ideal solution would be to have enough physical distance between them to make a unified rebellion unfeasible. And even if they were to manage it, the scope would probably pale in comparison to a major assault from the Holy Church.”

“True enough, I suppose.” The king gave a small nod. “Perhaps it is not as dangerous as I feared.”

But there was a terrible trap here. One the Demon King had overlooked.

Cooperation between the autonomous zones could be disrupted. A single one rising in rebellion would be easy to put down. When one rebelled, we would still have plenty of resources coming in from the other autonomous zones. But that was all under a single, huge assumption: The rest of the demonic kingdom would be in a position of strength.

The night elves could use their skills to pit the humans against one another or agitate them to fan the flames of rebellion. What if, when that happened, the Demon King was killed? What if the entire ruling structure of the kingdom was shaken? No matter how much they quarreled with one another, there was no way the autonomous zones would continue exporting their resources. That would be no different from a unified rebellion. The balance of trade that took resources from the autonomous zones for granted would collapse. And in no time, the carnivores of the demonic kingdom would starve. Alternatively, fear of starvation would lead to outbreaks in livestock theft once again. They’d be left with nothing but mountains of grains and produce, things neither the beastfolk nor the night elves could eat.

“What do you think, father?” I pressed him.

Closing his eyes again, the Demon King crossed his arms. “This kind of proposal could shake the very core of the demonic kingdom.” The impact was just too large. “I cannot afford to make a decision hastily.”

But he continued.

“I do see some merit in the idea. Tremendous merit.” The king gave a bright smile, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Very well. You will be the experiment, Zilbagias,” the Demon King Gordogias Orgi declared, leaning back in his chair. “Rule Evaloti as you see fit. Let me see how you will put humanity to use.”

The king’s smiling face turned stiff.

“Zilbagias Rage.”

I jumped out of my seat, standing at attention.

“I hereby appoint you as governor of the Evaloti Temporary Autonomous Zone.”

“I humbly accept.”

“Show me the future of the demonic kingdom.”

“I will spare no effort,” I answered with a smile.

I’d show him all right. I’d show him just how much we insects could struggle.

As the king and I shared a smile, Emergias could only watch us in stunned disbelief.

And so, by establishing the Evaloti Temporary Autonomous Zone, I had managed to stave off sacrificing the humans there for a time.

From today I was the seventh demon prince, Count Zilbagias Rage, head of the Royal Necromancy Research Laboratory, and governor of the Evaloti Temporary Autonomous Zone! (At six years old!)

†††

Near the top of the Demon King’s castle, walking along the outer edge and gazing out over the castle town’s night scenery, was a demon woman.

That woman was Pratifya Rage. Instead of her usual elegant dress, she was wearing something closer to riding gear. She had just finished her work and was now heading back to her room.

Today was awfully peaceful. No wounded.

Her position was the foremost healer in the castle. As wife of the Demon King, she held the highest title possible of archduchess, but that didn’t mean she could lounge around relaxing all day.

Unlike the common rabble, she possessed useful skills beyond those for combat. She had Transposition. It was her responsibility to both lead the next generation of healers and to personally heal demons far too strong for ordinary healers to handle. Her strength in magic brought no shame to the rank of archduchess. It was no exaggeration to say she was one of the greatest healers in the kingdom.

There was only one in the kingdom she would be unable to heal, one whose strength was entirely incomparable to other demons—the Demon King himself. His strength was unparalleled. No matter how much she tried, his latent resistance to magic deflected all of her attempts at using Transposition on him.

For a moment she stopped, casting a disheartened gaze up at the stars before continuing on her way. If by some terrible twist of fate something were to happen to her beloved husband, she would be helpless to do anything for him. That fact stung her every once in a while. Especially considering the shame the Rage family already shouldered after having failed to heal the first Demon King in the past. She really hoped the Demon King would make it to the end of his natural lifespan.

“I must be tired...”

This wasn’t like her. Nor was it a particularly auspicious thought. She shook the useless thoughts from her head.

For the record, though she couldn’t help the Demon King himself, she’d have no difficulty using Transposition on the other heirs. One time she had even personally healed the first demon prince Aiogias, who had returned from battle wounded. Though Aiogias was stronger than she was, as long as he didn’t use Naming or offer resistance, she could still heal him. There were likely only a small handful of healers in the demonic kingdom that could accomplish such a feat.

That was so soon after Zilbagias was born...

It was a nostalgic memory for her. Only having just recovered from giving birth to then having such a huge task suddenly dropped in her lap. Aiogias’s life hadn’t really been in danger thanks to Transposition, but handling the holy magic in his wounds had been backbreaking work.

Though I knew full well he may one day become our enemy...

Even so, she had held back nothing in healing him. The king himself had given her strict orders to always give full effort when treating others, no matter who they were. Otherwise, the army would quickly fracture into multiple factions and an ugly internal struggle would be inevitable. As such, the Corvut family spared nothing when building in the territory of enemy families, the Vernas family properly preserved food for everyone, the Izanis family carried messages for everyone, and the Rage family gave their full strength in healing anyone.

Conversely, when they weren’t on the job, they were permitted to fight as much as they wished. Within reason, of course.

“Oh, if it isn’t Pratifya,” a woman called out to her as she entered the residential quarter. Around her neck was an emerald necklace and she was draped in a venomously green dress. Her long green hair had been tied up to rest on her right shoulder as she snapped the folding fan in her hand shut. There was a dark, insidious emptiness in her eyes.

She was Nefradia Izanis, mother of the fourth demon prince Emergias. Like Pratifya, she was an archduchess. But unlike Pratifya, a strong warrior woman of the Rage family who continued her training even after ascending to her current position, Nefradia’s talents lay in working behind the scenes. When it came to raw power, she was considerably weaker than Pratifya.

Not wanting to get caught in the cross fire between two wives of the Demon King, the nearby beastfolk and night elf servants quickly scattered.

“Oh, Nefradia.” Pratifya returned her reply with a single glance. “Have a nice day.” Then Pratifya immediately moved to leave, as if to say they had nothing to discuss. She was all but ignoring her.

Apparently not appreciating such treatment, Nefradia answered with a scowl that soon turned into a wicked grin. “I know I’m late, but congratulations on your family’s victory in Deftelos. Your swift work in conquering the capital was incredible,” she said, spreading her fan open to obscure her smile. “Though it seems that accomplishment has greatly cost you the lives of your young men. How unfortunate.” The wicked serpent flashed her fangs.

Pratifya stifled a sigh as she came to a halt. It was obvious why Nefradia would pick a fight with her. The Izanis family had taken half of Deftelos, yet had been pulled back over the winter to allow the Rage family the opportunity to claim the biggest prize of all—the enemy capital. As much as she wished she could ignore Nefradia’s taunt, she had her honor to think about.

“The Izanis messengers were invaluable on the battlefield. I hear they performed admirably,” Pratifya replied, a frigid smile enhancing the cold beauty of her features. “But the Rage family handling the capital itself was truly a stroke of luck. If your family had been forced to do so, there wouldn’t have been nearly enough healers to manage.”

If it had been the Izanis family in charge, the damage would have been many times worse.

“Oh, you think so? Our family’s troops specialize in urban warfare of that nature.” As if she had predicted Pratifya’s response, Nefradia’s reply was instant, her smile unwavering. “I hear the Sacred Tree Alliance had quite the involved role in the fighting as well. Maybe it was just too much for the Rage family after such a long vacation from the front lines.”

It’s been so long since the Rage family participated in large-scale combat. Are you sure you haven’t lost your edge?

“The battle was certainly difficult. I can only apologize that so many Izanis messengers were wounded beyond our ability to offer them assistance.”

So you say, but the Izanis soldiers were all killed so quickly that we didn’t even have a chance to heal them.

“I heard your son faced quite the struggle himself. So much so that his pet retainers had to risk themselves to ensure his safety. I only wish I had such loyal men serving me,” Nefradia “complimented” them, dancing around the fact those retainers had all been slain.

“So true. Luckily, they were fully avenged, so I have no doubt they found their sacrifices to be meaningful ones. I seem to recall your own son found himself gravely wounded during his first deployment, isn’t that right? I suppose such challenges are commonplace for all the heirs.” Pratifya struck back, her smile undaunted. Emergias had been just as wounded on his first deployment. “Fortunately, Zilbagias was able to overcome this trial, and His Majesty came to recognize his strength. I have received word that within the next few days, he will be granted the rank of marquis. The same rank as your son, no?” The pride in her heart positively glowed through her expression. “I can also say with certainty that I am looking forward to Emergias’s next deployment. I imagine he will rise to duke in no time. Or perhaps he’ll have similar success as my son and jump all the way to archduke.”

Pratifya chuckled, her confidence absolute and unwavering. Her son was easily going to reach that level. That clear confidence in him was written all over her expression.

Nefradia moved to reply, but found herself saying nothing. When she compared her own son to Pratifya’s, she just had no idea what to say.

Pratifya chuckled again. “Have a nice evening,” she said before taking her leave, a smug look on her face. Glaring at her back as she passed, Nefradia waited until Pratifya was out of sight before she started walking again, a faint, venomous magic in the air around her.

Returning to her room, the moment Nefradia was alone, she threw her fan at her bed.

“It’s infuriating...!” She wouldn’t say what.

Dropping onto her sofa, she took her favorite pipe and used a spark of magic to light it. After a long pull on the pipe, she exhaled a great cloud of smoke. Her mood improved, even if just a little.

She watched the purple cloud slowly dissipate, a hollow look on her face. She turned a gloomy gaze on the tasteless golden statue of Demon King Gordogias standing beside her wall.

“My lady...” A servant eventually knocked on the door.

“What is it?”

“The young master has come with a report.” There was a distinct hesitance in the servant’s tone. Of course, “young master” was referring to none other than Nefradia’s son.

“Let him in,” she replied curtly, scowling once again. In short order, the man at the heart of her current discontent showed himself—Fourth Demon Prince Emergias Izanis.

“I have come to report, mother,” Emergias said as he stepped into the room, his face already a stony mask.

“Did you enjoy your meal with His Majesty?” she replied sarcastically.

“Well...I suppose,” he hesitated for a moment before giving an awkward reply.

“I see. Must be nice.”

Emergias once again was silent.

“So? What do you have to report?”

Emergias had already been about as expressive as a statue, but now his expression twisted into a bitter grimace. “Father has declared his plans to turn Evaloti into an autonomous zone for the humans”—and as if he had to struggle to squeeze it out—“and he intends to make Zilbagias the governor.”

Nefradia’s beloved pipe snapped in two.

†††

“You imbecile!”

A sound akin to glass breaking resounded from Nefradia’s private room. The night elf maid cleaning just outside the room jumped, flinching back. And then the door opened. Slowly exiting the room was Emergias, wearing a stone-faced expression and his head covered in tobacco ash.

“Don’t you dare return until you accomplish something just as impressive!”

Emergias slammed the door shut, as if to cut off his mother’s shrill cries. Shaking his head to dislodge the ash covering it, Emergias turned an irate pair of emerald eyes on the servant.

She immediately bowed her head, trembling. Begging for forgiveness. Begging for mercy. Even though she had done nothing wrong. The servants here were well accustomed to Nefradia taking out her displeasure on them, so the thought of getting caught up in her son’s tantrums left them terrified.

I didn’t see anything, I swear. Please, forgive me!

The maid’s frightened trembling only made Emergias’s scowl deepen, but he looked away from her without a word. Instead, he slammed a fist into the stone wall at his side. He had been chastised in the past for damaging the walls like that, so he refrained from using his full strength. Then he squared his shoulders and quickly left.

He had been thoroughly chewed out by his mother. Unfortunately for him, the timing of his report had lined up with when his mother’s mood was at its worst. Aren’t you ashamed to be on equal footing with a six-year-old? Aren’t you ashamed he’s pulling ahead of you? How are you not furious? Why won’t you take things seriously? His mother had bombarded him with all of those questions before she finally threw an ashtray at Emergias and told him to not show his face until he had accomplished something worth noting.

Emergias snorted. It wasn’t like he went to see his mother because he enjoyed it. He knew things would be worse if it appeared as though he was avoiding her, so he made sure to visit her regularly. If he didn’t have to see her for a while, that made things easier for him. Not that it made him feel any better.

Dammit...

After leaving Nefradia’s quarters, he kicked at one of the stone pillars lining the halls. Emergias knew that he was the source of his mother’s fury. And yet...

What the hell is he?!

He was Zilbagias Rage. Emergias’s youngest sibling, a mere six years old.

No matter how you look at it, there’s something strange going on with him!

Everything his brother had said, everything he had done in that meeting with the king following their meal’s conclusion, had been off. His intelligence, his knowledge, his eloquence. Even his skills in negotiation had been enough to impress and overpower the Demon King himself.

He was six! He should have still been playing with toy spears!

Why does father accept him so easily?!

Even if he had such a lengthy stay in the Abyss...even if he had a Devil of Knowledge tutor...

There’s no way!

He’d never accept it.

What the hell is he?! It’s all wrong! And his magic too! What the hell?!

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs.

After everything I had to do to reach marquis!

Soon, Zilbagias would be right alongside him as marquis. They’d be equals. The thought alone was enough to make him dizzy.

The excellence of Emergias’s three older siblings had caused him no small amount of suffering. Everyone around him always compared Emergias to them, including his own mother of course. Aiogias, the scholarly warrior. Rubifya, the peerless fighter. And Daiagias, the illustrious maverick. Emergias was nothing like those three. He was normal.

Of course he was stronger than your run-of-the-mill demon. But to put it in another light, he was only exceptional compared to commoners. He had nothing that made him stand out. He could still vividly recall the disappointment on his mother’s face when he returned from his first trip to the Abyss, informing her he had made a pact with a Devil of Envy. The authority of Envy functioned on the pretense that there was someone greater than yourself. It was basically the same as admitting you lacked the strength to make others envy you.

But Emergias had been desperate. He had committed himself fully to his training, struggling hard to overcome his siblings. He was jealous of Aiogias’s perfection. Of Rubifya’s boldness. Of Daiagias’s eccentricity. He was jealous. And those ugly feelings all worked in concert to make him stronger. Immediately after making his pact, his power exploded. He rose from esquire to viscount in no time.

But things had gotten harder from there. No matter how hard he struggled, the continued growth of his siblings kept them out of reach. They were getting stronger at a faster rate than he was, making the distance between them even greater. Even though he was giving it his all, he couldn’t close the gap, never mind actually exceed them.

The Izanis family eventually became subordinate to Aiogias’s Vernas family. From the moment they joined forces, Emergias’s power all but stopped growing. It seemed his envy had worn itself out, or maybe he was suppressing his feelings too much. Everything felt like meaningless work. Envying his siblings, training, longing for power...he lost sight of what was at the end of it all.

It wasn’t fulfilling. All it left him with was a hollow feeling in his chest. In the past, something had driven him to work hard, to give it his all. But whatever that motivation was, it felt like he had lost it. He couldn’t help but feel that he’d never catch up. He had given up.

But then along came his younger brother, Zilbagias.

No! Not to you!

He wouldn’t lose. So he thought. Being unable to catch up to his older siblings was unavoidable. After all, they were older and blessed with exceptional talent. But a younger brother? One who was only six years old? That was a different story.

I won’t allow it! I’ll never allow it!

They were practically equal in magic. And on top of that, he was so intelligent at just six years old. Just how gifted could one be?! Zilbagias was not at all on the path to becoming some ordinary demon. In fact, it seemed like his growth was accelerating. At this rate, it was only a matter of time...

Emergias grunted as he slammed another fist into the wall. A beastfolk servant passing by jumped in surprise, but Emergias lacked the composure to worry about others at this point. He glared into empty space.

I’ll never accept this...!

He recalled his father’s face. So accepting of his clearly abnormal six-year-old son. He so easily accepted Zilbagias’s proposals. Not only accepted them, but accepted them happily, evidently impressed.

Not once, not once in his entire life, had he ever looked at Emergias that way.

Emergias growled, pressing a hand so hard against his chest that it ripped the fabric, sending a button popping off and falling to the floor. It hurt. Like his heart was being wrenched and twisted, like his guts were boiling. Like anger, but a thicker, more viscous emotion. A feeling he hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

I will never...let that brat...!

Leaning up against the wall, sweat pouring from his forehead, Emergias gritted his teeth. He couldn’t accept it. It was just too much. A full grown adult like him was being overtaken by an actual child.

I’m so...jealous!

A maddening envy overtook him. A grinding, cracking sound resounded from deep inside him. The sound of something pushing at the core of his very being, pushing it out of the way.

And slowly, but surely, warping it.

Epilogue

A few days after my talk with the Demon King, I was formally granted the rank of marquis. That event coincided with the announcement of my appointment as governor of Evaloti, resulting in Prati making a huge fuss.

“I’m so proud of you!” she said, grabbing and spinning me around like we were dancing.

She hugged me like this for the first time in a long time. It brought me back to my days as a baby. Ever since my sudden growth after my trip to the Abyss, she basically had had no opportunities until now to be clingy.

“Securing the status of humans within the autonomous zone was also a splendid idea,” Prati continued to praise me once she had calmed down a little. “Preventing them from being used for Transposition means it won’t affect the Rage family quotas, nor will it threaten our position or interests. It will make it much easier for the Rage family to offer you their full support.”

Though really, if I had been denied and the humans in the autonomous zone had been given the same rights as wild dogs, it would have been such a pain in the neck for the Rage family that they’d have had no choice but to support me.

“Although...that also means you must be even more cautious when dealing with the other families.” With her previous elation having simmered down, Prati quickly returned to the calm and collected archduchess I was familiar with. “Though the humans in the autonomous zone are technically the property of the king, you will still be the governor. Also, as of now, it’s unclear how exactly the humans will be utilized. Some fools who can’t tell the difference between a governor and a ruler may try and interfere with you. Be careful not to give in to their provocations. There is no telling what kind of traps they might have set,” she said seriously.

“Yes, mother.”

Just like the monument of stupidity that had once gotten me the nickname of Hornbreaker, there very well could be idiots out there willing to pick a fight with me. This time they would likely try to start something by stealing livestock. The huge size of the autonomous zone meant that properly defending the humans there, let alone the livestock, would be difficult.

But I couldn’t allow even the slightest harm to come to those people. Not as a demon prince, and not as a hero.

That all aside, as the former Kingdom of Deftelos was planned to be turned into a new autonomous zone, a vast number of positions for government officials opened up, a cause for great celebration among the night elves.

“This is wonderful! Blessings continue to rain down on our people!”

In particular, Sidar was over the moon. Having used his monopoly on access to my healing abilities to carve out a seat of power for himself in night elf society, he was thrilled by the development. His role meant he had the power to put his close friends into all the important positions in the autonomous zone.

“On that note, Your Highness, there is a matter I wish to bring to your attention.” The way he said that with such a bright smile made me absolutely certain I was going to hate whatever came out of his mouth.

“Oh? What is it?”

“It is about the captives taken from Evaloti. I know you are well aware we night elves do what we can to research captives taken from the Holy Church and provide our findings to you.”

Of course I’m aware. Painfully so.

“Such was how the hero Leonardo was sold to the Rage family, after all.”

Leonardo’s name brought back memories of that priestess I had fought in Evaloti. The same one who had suddenly exploded with holy magic, and who provided Barbara the opportunity to take my head. Back then, she had totally knocked me off-balance when she screamed something along the lines of “For Leonardo!” That was why I had ended up losing.

What was her deal? She hadn’t been among the spirits I called back. Had she also destroyed her soul with that last-ditch effort?

“Sure. What, did you capture another hero or something?” I replied, keeping my turbulent feelings to myself.

“Yes. In this case, a priestess. The truth serum we had her ingest led to her admitting that she fought you personally.”

I paused. “I’m pretty sure I killed everyone I came up against.”

“Yes, well, she said she passed out following her fight with you. And, when she finally came to, another group of Rage family men subsequently captured her,” Sidar described the priestess’s account. “She said that the grass munchers and some Weaponmasters launched a surprise attack on your unit. Also that she empowered herself with the ashes of one of her friends to slow you down in order to create an opening for a female Swordmaster.”

The more he talked, the more it sounded like the same person. Though she was apparently still being held in Evaloti, so there was no confirming her identity just yet.

“To make it brief, I believe there is a strong possibility this woman may actually be one of your captives. As such, I thought it would be best to hear what you wish to be done with her before she is disposed of. There is the matter with the autonomous zone, after all.”

“I...see...” I closed my eyes.

Well. Whether it was the same priestess or not...my plan wasn’t going to change, was it?

†††

Charlotte Vidwa sat bound and restrained, trapped in darkness. Would she be used as a guinea pig for night elf experiments? Sold as a slave to the demons? Killed outright? Whichever fate would befall her, despite her desire for a swift death, her life in the night elf prison would not last for long.

“Come on. Out with you.” A night elf hunter loosened her restraints before dragging her outside.

She was in Evaloti. But now, the streets were in ruins, and the demonic kingdom’s black flag flew over the castle. She was dragged into the interior of the castle, abounding with human and beastfolk captives.

I thought the demons didn’t take captives...?

Aside from a slave here or there, demons typically executed those they captured, so the sight had her quite confused.

“This is the place. Be glad you’re in the company of many friends,” the night elf guiding her declared with a twisted smile. “Just remember, if you try something funny, we’ll make sure the other weaklings we’ve captured regret ever being born. Keep that in mind. Though you giving me the opportunity wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he added before removing the last of her restraints.

She was at a total loss. What was going on?

In her bewilderment, she stepped in the room to find a number of others wearing priest clothing. On top of that, the ground was littered with so many wounded, leaving barely any space to walk. Just like any field hospital, the air was filled with groans and cries.

“You! You’re from the Church, right?!” an exhausted young man—honestly little more than a child—wearing priest robes ran up to her. “I am Deacon Mycine!”

“My name is Charlotte Vidwa. I’m a senior priestess.”

“A senior priestess?! Thank goodness! Everyone, we’re okay now! We’ve got a senior priestess here!” Mycine practically jumped for joy. A deacon was the lowest level of priest, basically a novice student.

“Miss Charlotte, please take the lead! We don’t have the skill for this!” Mycine said as he motioned to the surrounding wounded and was joined by his companions as they bowed with tears in their eyes.

Char was also in terrible shape and was sick of being in pain all the time. She had been perpetually confined and restrained, forced to take strange drugs, and hadn’t eaten properly in days. But the people here were suffering more than she was. They needed her help.

“Understood. I will take over. Can you show me those who are heavily wounded?” Forcing her battered body to move, she got to work healing. After her time on the front lines followed by the wintering in Evaloti, she was more than accustomed to conditions like these.

“That’s what makes you a wonderful priestess.” The words of her beloved suddenly came back to her.

She didn’t know why she was here or what was to come. She didn’t know if there was a point to healing these people, if any of them here would have a future. But, even so, the silver flame in her heart roared—urging her to fulfill her mission.

Leo...I’ll live. I’ll fight with everything I have until the day they kill me, she prayed as she bestowed a healing miracle on the first patient. So...please watch over me.

The small urn containing Leonardo’s ashes was long gone, so all Char could do was send prayers to whatever far-off place he now inhabited.

That day, for the first time in her life, Char was able to heal someone of dismemberment.

It was the first day of the long, hard struggles of Charlotte Vidwa—the sole senior priest in the Evaloti Autonomous Zone.