Neither of them could move. Lennix lay crumpled against the shattered stones of the well, his body mangled in too many places at once, so his regeneration was going to take a long time. The black knight remained frozen in his kneel, one hand clamped against the deep gash along his side, not a cut he could shrug off. He knew with absolute certainty that if he tried to stand, or even shift too quickly, the wound would tear wider and he would bleed out on the spot.
"That took longer than I expected, if I'm being honest," Velastra said as she planted her hands on her hips, her tone almost casual. The demon knight gave a small nod, raising his longsword with intent to finish the black knight.
"No, no—not so quick." Velastra lifted one hand lightly. "We have to make it flashy."
The demon knight stopped mid-motion, lowering the blade without a word. His visor stayed fixed on her, watching as she slowly turned her head upward.
"Besides," she added, eyes narrowing, "we still have someone to deal with."
Her gaze locked onto Darek.
High above, the Reluctant Deity looked down at her, at the demon knight poised to kill, at Lennix barely conscious, and at the black knight forcing himself not to collapse. These two had fought until their bodies collapsed under them. And all Darek could think was—
*What should I do?*
He could fight. And from everything he'd seen, he could win—easily. But he'd been sent here to learn about Lennix and the black knight…and then kill them. And while he never followed orders and did whatever he pleased, he was also profoundly, chronically lazy. He didn't want to put in more effort than necessary. He was the Reluctant Deity, work was not in his nature.
Letting the Demon Lord and her knight finish the job for him meant he wouldn't have to lift a finger. It meant he could go back to Veridiania, lie down somewhere soft, and sleep for a week.
*I had my fun. I hung out with them. And now these two can take care of it. Why should I bother? Yeah… I'll just leave.*
He clapped his hands once.
A blast of light erupted, brilliant, searing, as if a second sun ignited overhead. Vision vanished in white for everyone below. And when the spots finally cleared…
Darek was gone. Not a trace, not even a shimmer. He had simply left.
"Huh." Velastra slid off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Looks like he's just a coward." She chuckled softly, amused.
*I can't blame him,* the black knight thought through the pounding in his skull. *He doesn't have any obligation to stay when we're obviously losing.* There was no resentment, it just made sense for him to leave.
Lennix felt the same. But another thought simmered underneath his pain, *Man… I was really hoping you were hiding some insane power. Now would've been the perfect time to show off…*
Velastra turned toward the guards. The moment her eyes met theirs, terror tore through them.
Their hopes had been Lennix, the black knight, and Darek. And all three were gone—one crushed, one bleeding out, one abandoning them entirely. Whatever courage had held the guards together snapped. They bolted toward the spot covering the underground shelter, tripping over each other to reach it. Some pounded on the ground in panic, desperate to get inside.
Others pressed their foreheads to the ground, straining to hear the muffled voices of their families below, hoping to listen to them one last time.
They had made a grave mistake.
Velastra had been wondering this entire time where the rest of the villagers were hiding, and now, watching the guards swarm the same patch of ground, she finally had her answer. A slow smirk crept across her face as she began strolling toward them.
"No! Stop! Not them!" the black knight yelled. Instinct forced his arm out toward her, and the motion tore his wound wide open. He toppled forward with a strangled gasp, blood spilling down his side.
"Not them! Fight us! Don't go to them!" Lennix shouted, trying to force his regeneration to kick in faster. But he wasn't his sister. He didn't know how to accelerate it; all he could do was shake helplessly as Velastra closed in.
The guards stumbled back as she approached. A few tried—pathetically—to raise their swords. Velastra didn't even look at them. She simply lifted her heel and slammed her foot into the ground.
Inside the shadow-forged shelter beneath them, the whole room lurched. Dust rained down. Children clutched their parents, startled cries echoing in the cramped darkness.
"Wha–what is happening up there?" Mari whispered, staring at the trembling ceiling.
"Don't worry, Mari. They can't get in," Clarissa said in her usual flat tone, patting the girl's head. "Master Lennix and the black knight will be fine, and the demons can't get in here."
Mari nodded, but the floor shuddered violently again.
Up above, the black knight's breath hitched. His shelter had been built to withstand demons and the demon knight—not a Demon Lord. He felt panic, cold and immediate, coil in his chest.
Velastra stomped down harder.
Below, the shadows groaned like strained metal. The shelter bucked violently. Karin instinctively stepped in front of Mari, clicking her tongue as she swung her kusarigama into her hands. Clarissa mirrored her, pulling out her throwing knives with practiced calm.
Mari couldn't do anything but watch. She looked around at the children—her age, younger—crying and clinging to their parents. She watched her mother and Clarissa ready themselves to fight something none of them could see. She wanted to help, to do something, but she was just an eight-year-old little girl. What could she possibly do?
The ground convulsed with one final, violent impact.
The shadows splintered like glass, then evaporated entirely, leaving the entire group exposed in a wide, raw pit carved into the earth.
And above them, framed by daylight, stood the Demon Lord herself—grinning down at them.
"Now this is just going to be lovely~"