Nearly a week had passed since that particular farce came to its end.
As for how exactly the farce had been resolved, and what fate awaited the members of the Magical Special Operations Unit and the Shadow Warriors who had taken part in the operation — Miss Fíliya had absolutely no interest in any of it. At this moment, she stood once again before the grave of the Great Mage Flamme, this time with Serie beside her.
"Well, well. I had a feeling you'd be here. Your total mana reserves are simply too absurd — no matter how much you try to hide it, you'll never be able to disappear into the air the way Frieren does."
The instant Fíliya spotted Serie, she walked straight to her side and delivered that teasing remark.
"True enough. I once mocked Frieren for spending a lifetime practicing such a trivial, tedious skill... but I find I must now concede that her technique does have its value."
Serie answered without turning to face her, eyes fixed on the headstone carved with its many honors.
"Oh? How unusually candid of you today — actually admitting to a shortcoming."
Fíliya studied this orange-haired hermit of ten thousand years with mild surprise.
"You misunderstand me. I have never once claimed to be omniscient or omnipotent. Among my disciples alone, there are any number of geniuses who far surpass me. Compared to them, I am nothing more than someone who has simply lived long enough."
"Is that so..."
Fíliya gave a vague, noncommittal response and decided not to press any further on that particular topic.
"If you wanted to see her, you only had to say so, you know."
She was watching the side of Serie's face as she said it, her voice dropping just slightly — probing, careful.
"Haven't I already told you? You are not permitted to use that magic on me."
Serie's brow furrowed the moment the words left Fíliya's mouth.
"And besides... your magic can reproduce the image of someone missed with perfect fidelity, but it is still not truly her. Not one hundred percent. What would be the point?"
Serie added that last part quietly, almost to herself.
Ah... so because it wouldn't be complete, she doesn't want to see it at all.
Fíliya raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, then let her attention drift elsewhere.
Her gaze fell on the bouquet cradled in Serie's arms, and a thought occurred to her.
"Could I have a few?"
...Excuse me?
Serie finally turned her head. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes.
"The flowers, I mean. I forgot to bring any."
Fíliya repeated herself with an expression of perfect, guileless innocence.
"...Tch."
Serie made a face — a rather undisguised look of distaste — but nonetheless reached into her own bouquet and pulled out a few stems, handing them to this insufferable person standing before her.
And so the two of them, one just slightly ahead of the other, laid their flowers at the foot of the grave.
"What is going on between you and Sense?"
Once the offering had been made, Serie asked the question without preamble.
?! Fíliya startled inwardly. How does she know about this too.
"When she was braiding my hair this morning, her expression was all wrong... I find it quite remarkable that the two of you could actually end up in a quarrel. That really is a rare thing."
Serie observed Fíliya's reaction with curious eyes.
"Mm... you're right, now that you mention it. This is actually the first time since we were children that Sense and I have ever been in a... cold war, so to speak. But even the closest relationships hit a rough patch eventually. It'll work itself out in time."
Fíliya said it with practiced lightness, as though it were nothing at all.
"Is that so."
Serie found something faintly off about it, but she was never particularly attuned to the nuances of human emotion — so she let it go without further inquiry.
"Speaking of which, you seem to be in quite a good mood. What exactly did that Emperor promise you?"
Fíliya had noticed the faint, involuntary smile at the corner of Serie's lips, and in the end, her curiosity got the better of her.
What in the world could possibly move the heart of a goddess this willful, this utterly detached from all earthly things?
"That young man asked me to treat this entire incident as though it never happened — he did not wish for it to damage the normal diplomatic relations between the Empire and the Continental Magic Association. He also requested that I not pursue any further charges against Captain Fres of the Magical Special Operations Unit... and as compensation, he offered to have Flamme's casket relocated to the City of Magic."
...What?!
The terms were enough to catch even Fíliya off guard.
But in the wake of that surprise came a cascade of questions.
"Mm... Flamme has already been buried for a thousand years. Moving the casket now, of all times... doesn't that seem a little... And beyond that, the Great Mage Flamme is one of the very cornerstones of the Empire's founding legitimacy — the Emperor actually agreed to something like this?"
"I was surprised as well, at first. I had no desire to disturb Flamme's rest... But then, that young man showed me this."
Serie said it quietly, and with a soft snap of her fingers, a yellowed sheet of letter paper materialized in the air before Fíliya.
Fíliya reached out and took it in her hands, studying it carefully.
"Hmm. It's been exceptionally well preserved, but this paper is from a thousand years ago."
She drew this conclusion from the paper itself before even reading a single word written on it.
"This is Flamme's last testament. She left behind quite a few instructions before she died — this particular document is her wishes regarding what should be done after her passing."
When she said this, Serie's voice was unnaturally, carefully calm.
"...She actually left something like this? And preserved this well... it seems this newborn Empire truly did have a certain... legitimacy to it."
Fíliya muttered a brief aside to herself and immediately turned her eyes to the contents.
If I cannot be buried beside my teacher, then anywhere within the Empire's borders will do.
Do not hold a state funeral for me. Keep all arrangements simple.
Those were the only two instructions the Great Mage Flamme had left regarding the handling of her own death — two lines, nothing more.
But the most important part of this last testament was undeniably the opening phrase: buried beside my teacher.
"...This genuinely surprises me. By the time Flamme was in the Empire, it had already been a very long time since she'd last seen you — and yet in her final moments, she was still thinking about whether she might be buried at your side... Though of course, at that point you hadn't yet founded the Continental Magic Association, had you? You were still living however you pleased, going wherever the wind took you. Even if the Empire had wanted to find you, they couldn't have."
Fíliya's words pricked lightly at something in Serie's chest, though her expression remained undisturbed.
"Naturally. The nature of my relationship with Flamme was, at the time, a secret known only to Frieren. The people of the Empire back then had no idea who the 'teacher' mentioned in Flamme's note was referring to."
As she spoke, Serie's thoughts drifted involuntarily back to a certain day a thousand years ago.
On that day, it had been Frieren who came to find her — carrying another of Flamme's final wishes.
That particular letter was a request for Serie to step onto the stage of history: to found the Continental Magic Association, to guide and lead human mages into a new era.
When she first heard that Flamme had died, Serie had shown no reaction whatsoever. She had taken that letter — Flamme's last words to her — and torn it apart as though it were a dull joke she couldn't be bothered to finish reading.
Well... Frieren was present, after all. She had to put on some kind of show. As for whether she quietly gathered up all those torn scraps afterward and pieced them back together — that, no one would ever know.
"Fíliya... Since you are also Flamme's disciple, shouldn't you perhaps reconsider how you address me?"
After brooding in private for quite a while, Serie finally composed herself and turned to Fíliya with that question. There was no way their conversation with Frieren had slipped past those sharp eyes — she had clearly known everything all along.
"Hmm?"
Fíliya blinked slowly, the picture of baffled innocence — an act, obviously.
"I have no idea what you mean. 'Serie' rolls off the tongue just fine."
"...Tch."
Serie's response to this performance was a single, deeply unimpressed click of her tongue.
It seemed that coaxing the words Master or Grand-Master out of this particular person was, in the end, a task harder than ascending to heaven itself
Once again, Miss Fíliya found herself trapped at a banquet she had absolutely no patience for.
And this one was different from the last.
The previous dinner had been a relatively casual, free-flowing affair. Tonight's event, at least in name, was something far more formal — an official [Victory Banquet].
[In cooperation with the Continental Magic Association, the rebellion instigated by Shadow Warrior Commander Levi has been successfully suppressed.]
Under that banner, the Emperor had convened this ceremony to formally bestow honors upon those who had distinguished themselves.
The Emperor himself had not yet arrived, so the atmosphere had yet to turn truly stiff, and Fíliya allowed herself a rare moment of slack — a brief, conscious loosening of the tension she had been holding.
Because in truth, her nerves were wound to an almost unbearable pitch. She had run through the plan a hundred times in her head, but now that the moment of execution was actually approaching, her heart refused to stop trembling.
"Hoo..."
She exhaled slowly, drawing several long, deliberate breaths before finally lifting her head to survey the room.
Frieren was exactly as she always was — utterly detached, as though none of this had anything to do with her, having already slipped into babysitter mode. She was chatting away with Fern, Stark, and... wait.
Fíliya blinked.
When had Frieren's party picked up another person? She hadn't gone to see Frieren in the past few days, but how had the woman's group suddenly grown to four?
...Now that I think about it, she did mention something about having a monk in her party. Whatever. Not my concern.
Fíliya gave her head a small shake and looked elsewhere.
It was then that a familiar face drifted over, offering a polite greeting to Fíliya and her companions.
"Lady Fíliya, and Lady Frieren, Lady Serie."
Fíliya looked over. It was that old man, Denken.
"Denken, huh... As a local, isn't your timing a little late? All the interesting parts are already over. There's no role left for you to play."
Fíliya delivered the jab in a cheerfully teasing tone.
"So it would seem. I am genuinely sorry I couldn't be of more help — I was taken into custody before you all even arrived in the Empire."
Denken said it with a faint, apologetic look on his face.
"Is that so... No wonder I hadn't seen you. And here I was thinking I'd make you take me out to dinner."
Fíliya laughed.
"It would be my absolute pleasure. I've been reinstated to my former position — if Lady Fíliya would honor me with her presence, I am available tomorrow or the day after."
Denken said this with complete sincerity.
"Hmm... I'll pass. I have zero interest in having dinner with an old man."
Fíliya wrinkled her nose with exaggerated disdain.
Denken, unbothered, simply turned and struck up a conversation with someone else nearby.
Once he had wandered off, Fíliya found herself at loose ends again. She began scanning the banquet hall with deliberate purpose.
What a shame. The star-crossed pair is nowhere to be seen. If those two were here, I could have gone over and teased them a little — it might have lightened my mood considerably.
But of course they weren't. The Shadow Warriors were nominally traitors and rebels now. Even if the Emperor himself had quietly kept them alive behind the scenes, recognizing their combat value, they could hardly afford to be seen standing in the light.
Unable to find any amusement, the restless Miss Fíliya let her gaze wander aimlessly until it finally settled on Solitär.
She looked at her with an expression that could only be described as seeking comfort — and Solitär, reading her perfectly, reached out and took her hand.
"It's still not too late to turn back... You really don't have to go this far."
Solitär kept her voice low, her tone soft and gentle.
Fíliya said nothing. She simply shook her head, slowly and quietly.
By rights, there was one other person she could have talked to. But she didn't dare. Ever since that day, she had not once allowed herself to be alone with Sense.
Hoo...
Then I'll just wait for the moment to come.
With that thought settled in her chest, Fíliya folded her hands in her lap and sat perfectly still in her seat.
Time passed.
Then, at last, the Emperor himself made his entrance — resplendent in formal robes, a gleaming crown upon his head. The instant Fíliya laid eyes on him, something crystallized inside her. Her expression went still and flat, and she raised her chin.
Whatever hesitation she had felt before the decision was made — none of that mattered anymore. Once Fíliya committed to something, she saw it through to the very end.
The Emperor ascended to the ornately decorated central throne of the banquet hall. After a few customary, ceremonial pleasantries, the proceedings moved smoothly into the awards ceremony itself.
Serie, naturally, had no interest in any of this. For someone of her standing, accepting a reward from an Emperor was closer to an insult than an honor — she had already worked out her own arrangement with him in private, so she sat there wearing an expression of perfect, serene indifference.
As for Frieren, she couldn't be bothered playing the role of a hero either, so she had handed the task of accepting rewards and making public appearances entirely to Fern.
Before long, the Emperor's voice called out Fíliya's name.
Fíliya rose from her seat and, with her three demon companions in tow, walked slowly toward the imperial throne.
Of course, all three of them — Solitär included — had presented themselves in human form.
When Fíliya and her group came to a halt a few meters before the Emperor's seat, they lowered themselves as one onto a single knee before the sovereign of the human Empire, adopting a posture of humble deference as they prepared to receive their commendation.
The sight puzzled quite a few people who knew Fíliya.
After all — this was the woman who had kicked the Emperor squarely in the back not long ago. The woman who had spoken to him with open arrogance, as though he were beneath her consideration. And now, in this very moment, she was the picture of meek compliance?
Is she actually capable of reading the room? The banquet hall was packed with every titled noble and high-ranking official the Empire had to offer. Countless pairs of eyes were fixed on her right now.
But whatever others were thinking — what Fíliya wanted was exactly this moment.
"Lady Fíliya is without question the greatest contributor to this entire affair. Though you are not a citizen of the Empire, We nonetheless hope you will accept this."
The Emperor spoke, gesturing for an attendant to present a precious, jewel-inlaid gift box before Fíliya.
Fíliya lifted the lid and glanced at the contents.
Inside sat a medal — the kind that looked expensive just by existing.
"This is the Empire's Medal of Honor. Rest assured, accepting this will bring you no inconvenience whatsoever, Lady Fíliya. It carries no obligations — it is simply a symbol of the Empire's friendship and trust. This medal is proof that you are a hero recognized by the Empire itself."
The Emperor offered the explanation in his characteristic measured tone.
And for once, Fíliya did not reach for a quip. She accepted the medal with genuine, unhurried solemnity.
"Now then — is there anything Lady Fíliya would like to request as a reward? Given your contribution on this occasion, We will endeavor to fulfill any wish you name."
The Emperor continued.
"There is indeed one matter I would humbly ask Your Majesty to grant."
Fíliya slowly raised her head. The smile on her face was the kind that looked perfectly harmless — guileless, even. She didn't so much as glance at Fres, who stood at the Emperor's side.
"By all means. Speak freely."
The Emperor even gestured for Fíliya to step a little closer, as a gesture of trust toward this honored hero.
Fíliya took the invitation without a moment's hesitation and closed the distance to precisely the range she wanted.
"What I want is—"
The instant those two words left her lips, Fíliya's body exploded into motion.
In the fraction of a second before anyone in the hall could process what was happening, she drove a golden dagger straight through the Emperor's heart.
"—!"
Fres's blade arrived at Fíliya's throat in an instant — but it never came down.
A violent pressure, like a wall of wind given physical form, smashed both the sword and Fres herself away. Then a surge of jet-black radiance erupted outward, swallowing Fíliya's entire group — and the Emperor — within its dark embrace.
The second attack to arrive came from Sense — strands of her hair lashing out like needles, clearly aimed at stopping Fíliya.
The reason her reaction had been faster than even Serie's or Frieren's was simple: she was the only person in that hall whose attention had been locked, without a single moment's lapse, entirely on Fíliya.
But even so, she was too late. The hair struck the surface of the black curtain of light and held there, powerless — unable to pierce a single millimeter further.
Fíliya's timing had been flawless. There was simply no one in that room who had been able to react.
Not one person had imagined it — that the young woman hailed as a hero just one second ago would, in the very next second, attempt to assassinate the Emperor himself.
Sense turned her eyes to Serie, her gaze edged with something close to desperation, silently willing the goddess to intervene and undo this.
But Serie's brow was furrowed deep — because even she could not see through the black light to determine what was happening inside.
Neither she nor Frieren could find any angle to act.
And so the banquet hall collapsed into a kind of surreal, suspended silence. Every soul present could do nothing but stare at that curtain of black.
Fortunately, it did not last long.
When the black light finally faded... Fíliya and her companions had vanished without a trace.
The good news — the Emperor was unharmed. The wound that had pierced his heart had been healed by some unknown force, and he now stood before them in perfect condition.
The bad news — sprouting from the top of the Emperor's head were two... unmistakably prominent, unmistakably demonic horns.
Somewhere in the Southern Nations — inside an abandoned building far removed from the noise of the world.
"In the end, you went through with it. You always push yourself too hard."
Solitär looked at the girl beside her, and couldn't quite keep the worry off her face.
She didn't know exactly how much strain the magic had put on Fíliya — but the pale, hollow look on the girl's face and the cold sweat soaking her hairline were real enough to make the answer obvious.
"I'm... not pushing myself. I'd already made up my mind to do this a long time ago. I just kept putting off the actual decision..."
Fíliya's voice was faint, slightly unsteady. She braced one hand against the wall beside her, and with the other, slowly reached up to touch the top of her own head.
"...Not bad at all. Just like I imagined. Horns really are better when they're on the smaller side — if they'd come in any bigger, I'd have wanted a refund."
She said it with forced lightness, throwing out the little joke like she always did. But none of the other three could manage to laugh along with her.
"Ahh... so this is it, isn't it. We were this close to being treated as heroes, and now we've just tumbled straight into the abyss. We might actually end up on a wanted list across every human nation..."
Aura looked genuinely stricken.
"Oh? That's what you're worried about?" Fíliya propped herself up a little and turned to Aura with a faint smile, then raised a finger and pointed to the pair of small, neat horns on her own head — a rather close match to Solitär's in size and shape.
"I... at this point, honestly, nothing you do surprises me anymore..."
Aura gave a helpless shake of her head.
"Isn't it something..." Solitär murmured softly in agreement. "I never imagined that the ultimate goal of 'Fíliya, the Great Lover of the Demon Race' was to become one herself... I'll admit, when I realized it, even I was taken aback."
"Actually, there's something I don't quite understand..." Aura's curious eyes drifted back to Fíliya. "Turning yourself into a demon — fine, I can almost follow that. But why did you also turn the Emperor into one while you were at it? Please don't tell me it was just because you didn't like the look of him."
"Of course not. What I did to the Emperor had nothing to do with personal feelings. Whoever happened to be sitting in that seat — I would have done the same thing to them."
"Hm?"
That answer only deepened Aura's confusion.
"Because that man is the Emperor of the most powerful nation on the continent," Solitär stepped in at that point, offering the explanation to Aura with a calm, measured voice. "And it happened in full view of everyone — in front of high nobles, senior officials, and the upper echelon of the Continental Magic Association. There is no more effective publicity than that. That's what she was thinking, isn't it?"
"...Publicity?"
The word left Aura blinking blankly.
"Exactly. 'The Demon Race possesses the power to transform humans into demons.' That is the message Fíliya wanted to send to the entire world."
"But... can't humans do that thing where they... control the narrative? Suppress the information? Would something like this actually spread?"
Aura's expression was skeptical.
"You can't wrap fire in paper forever. News this significant is nearly impossible to bury completely. And even if they tried their hardest to suppress it — I've already prepared a fuse to set the powder keg alight regardless. Besides..."
Fíliya paused, and a thin, contemptuous smile crept across her lips without her quite meaning it to.
"For people who already hold power and wealth — the truly powerful, the ones who have everything — there is only one thing left in this world that can still hold a fatal attraction for them."
"...Lifespan? Longevity... or even immortality?"
The realization hit Aura immediately. 'Becoming a demon' didn't just mean rapidly gaining extraordinary power — it also meant acquiring the long life that humans had always dreamed of.
Looked at that way... 'becoming a demon' could genuinely become a fatal temptation for certain humans. The thought sent a small chill through Aura — followed almost immediately by a new wave of confusion.
"But... why do any of this in the first place? I don't understand... Why would you want to use something like that to test humanity?"
Fíliya didn't answer right away. Instead, she crossed the dim, decrepit room to its far corner and picked up a jagged shard of broken glass from the floor.
She looked at the slightly unfamiliar face staring back at her from the makeshift mirror, and gave one slow, quiet raise of an eyebrow.
"It seems... the effects of becoming a demon are a little more significant than I anticipated."
She said it softly, then let the glass shard drop. A moment later, she pressed both hands to her head, as though trying to hold back a sudden, splitting pain.
"What's wrong?!"
Solitär was at her side in an instant. Aura and Linie both turned toward her with expressions etched with concern.
"...I'm dizzy. And I can barely lift my arms. I'm going to need some time to rest."
Fíliya's chest rose and fell in shallow, labored cycles. The color had all but drained from her face.
"I see... Then we'll leave it at that for now. Let me tidy up the room. This place should be outside of Serie's detection range, at least, shouldn't it?"
Solitär took her gently by the arm and guided her slowly toward the bed. She eyed the dust-covered mattress, and without a word, swept a quick cleaning magic across it — then carefully lowered Fíliya down onto it.
"Mm."
Fíliya gave Solitär one last small nod — and was asleep almost before she finished the motion.
Watching it happen, Aura found herself with nothing to say at all.
It was the first time she had ever seen this girl look so utterly defenseless.
She sat down quietly at Fíliya's side. Then, without quite thinking about it, she reached out — and gently touched her fingertips to Fíliya's cheek.
...This girl. She's one of us now. Completely.
With some nameless, complicated feeling she couldn't have put into words, Aura withdrew her hand. She stood, and found herself meeting Solitär's eyes.
"So... what in the world is she actually trying to do? She went and did all that without explaining any of it, and then just lay down and went to sleep. What an unbelievably selfish creature."
"She really is," Solitär agreed, with a small, composed nod. "The sheer degree of her willfulness is probably on par with the God of Magic herself."
"But I think I understand what she's trying to do."
"Oh?"
Aura's curiosity flared back to life.
"Hasn't she said it herself? That she wanted to play the role of the one who sets the questions. This time," Solitär said quietly, "let's cooperate with her little act of madness — and do it properly."
As she said it, she turned her gaze toward the sleeping Fíliya — and the look in her eyes was something between deep affection and something that could only be called anticipation.
It was plain to see: in that moment, Solitär had given up — completely and without reservation — the secret of longevity she had guarded for a thousand years.
At the mere thought of standing at Fíliya's side in whatever came next, pitting themselves against the very pinnacle of the human world — she felt, inexplicably, a stirring of excitement she hadn't felt in ages.
...And so, for a time, the three demons took turns keeping watch over Fíliya. They brought the abandoned building into quiet order, made it livable — and even managed to spare enough hands to venture out to the smaller towns further away, places the human wars had not yet touched, to buy what they needed for daily life.
All of it was preparation. All of it was waiting.
Waiting for that girl to wake up.
Looking at the girl who had been sound asleep for a full month, Solitär could only find it incredible.
Because in this short period of time, with almost every passing day, the mana in Fíliya's body grew more turbulent, and the aura flowing from her became colder and more unknowable.
On the fifth day, Fíliya, whose mana reserves had once been just a bit higher than Aura's, had already approached Solitär's own level.
And now, on the thirtieth day, this girl had become someone that even she could no longer see through completely.
...Could merely becoming a demon bring about such a world-altering change...?
Solitär lightly bit her lip. Looking at Fíliya now, she even faintly thought of a word.
[Demon King]
She once again recalled the message the demon prophet, All-Seeing Schlacht, had left for her.
Should you meet a human girl with green hair and golden eyes, you must kill her without the slightest hesitation.
A human girl with green hair and golden eyes represented the unknown... represented an uncertain influence.
But since it was unknown, it could have been good, or it could have been bad...
So, her decision not to act against Fíliya back then was, after all, the correct one.
Solitär was utterly certain that when Fíliya awoke again, she would likely have become a Demon King in every sense of the word.
It's just... looking at the increasingly unfamiliar aura emanating from Fíliya, she still felt a little lost.
She was very worried about the person who would awaken.
Would she truly be the girl she knew...? This point, too, was indeed unknown.
But what could she do? She could only watch as this unsettling transformation continued to unfold within Fíliya.
Her only consolation was that the current Fíliya didn't need to eat, nor did she need to be looked after.
That girl was like a black hole now, frantically absorbing all the mana around her.
Whether it came from the air, or was attached to other people or objects, Fíliya devoured it all like a greedy beast, not the least bit picky.
Solitär was certain that, under these circumstances, if she were to approach rashly, she would likely be sucked dry as well.
But she, along with Aura and Linie, would still occasionally draw a little closer.
She deliberately allowed Fíliya, in this state, to drain all of their mana.
She didn't know if doing so would make her feel any better... Solitär's thoughts were remarkably simple.
After another month had passed, the changes in Fíliya's body gradually subsided, and the black-hole-like absorption of surrounding mana finally ceased.
Is she about to wake up?
For nearly three months, Solitär had spent most of her time crouched by Fíliya's side, which was why she was able to catch this very moment.
She immediately called for Aura and Linie, and together they gathered around Fíliya, quietly waiting for this troublesome girl to awaken.
Finally, Fíliya slowly sat up and opened her eyes.
"How long was I asleep?"
The moment those words were spoken, the heavy weight in Solitär's heart lifted.
She had been truly afraid that the awakened Fíliya would ask, [Who are you?].
Since Fíliya's first words were this... it meant she was still herself.
But Fíliya had still acquired a change that felt unfamiliar to her. For example... her golden eyes, which were originally a pale gold, had now... become what could literally be called pupils of gold.
Moreover, that gaze, filled with a cold light and chill, didn't match the girl who so often created mischievous scenes at all... After becoming a demon, did one become tinged with this slightly 'inhuman' color...? Solitär wondered with some uncertainty.
Well... but these are not the most important things. As long as... she still remembers me, it's fine.
"Three months..."
Solitär answered immediately.
"Is that so... I thought I'd slept for three hundred years."
A little warmth finally returned to Fíliya's tone, and these seemingly joking words also allowed Solitär's mood to relax considerably.
"Solitär... so you've been hiding such a big secret from me."
"!?"
Solitär was startled, somewhat at a loss as to how to respond to this accusation.
"Mm... I found an interesting one, you know? The one called [Saint of the End—Tot], was it? You never told me about her existence."
Fíliya smiled as she looked at Solitär.
"Because that one is the Demon Race's final trump card..."
Solitär replied nervously, simultaneously shocked at how Fíliya could have possibly found her...
[Saint of the End—Tot] was a great demon whose existence was hidden even more deeply than her own. Her ability was a terrifying curse, but one that required several hundred years to spread across the world, so she had always lived in hiding, waiting only for that moment of the [End].
Even Solitär herself didn't know where Tot was hiding. How could Fíliya have found her? Could it be... that the current Fíliya was even stronger than the so-called [God of Magic]? That her perception could cover the entire continent?
"It's not like that. My perception range isn't as large as Serie's... but, it can cover all demons regardless of distance. That's how I found her."
As if she had seen right through Solitär's thoughts, Fíliya immediately provided the answer.
"..."
Solitär was at a loss.
To be able to link her perception to every demon... this ability was practically tailor-made for the title of [Demon King].
"Alright... I don't mean to blame you. After all, I have plenty of things I've kept from you, too."
Fíliya stood up, changed into the clothes Solitär had prepared for her, and first stood before Solitär, placing her hands on her shoulders to soothe her mood before continuing.
"However, this is something that needs to be dealt with. To think the Demon Race still had this one last bomb left undiffused... I sense that her curse is nearly complete. It will detonate in ten years at most. I'm afraid there will be utter devastation then."
"Let's go."
As Fíliya spoke, she directly took Solitär's hand, then motioned for Aura and Linie to follow her.
"Go? Go where?"
Aura looked bewildered, wondering if this girl was going to spring into action the moment she woke up... They had prepared so much delicious food for her, and she hadn't even had a chance to try it.
"...Just follow."
As she spoke, Fíliya simply traced a small cross in the air before her with her index finger.
Then, the space in front of them split open as if it had been cut, connecting directly to a place that felt very strange and unfamiliar to Aura.
"This is..."
Aura and Linie exchanged a glance, completely clueless as to where this enclosed space was. But the surroundings were filled with a somewhat unpleasant, muddy smell, which brought back many bad memories for Miss Aura.
"200 meters underground. As for the surface distance, it's quite close to the Demon King's Castle."
Fíliya explained casually, then turned her gaze to the cavern built underground before them.
Though it was a cavern, aside from the lack of sunlight, it was quite similar to a normal human residence. There was a table, a bed, and even a pointless window carved into the cavern wall.
On the bed not far away, the figure of a female demon lay, staring in astonishment at the sudden intruders.
"Oh... no wonder no one could find Tot's trail. So... this one's been hiding underground all this time."
Looking at the other's appearance, a flicker of understanding crossed Solitär's expression.
"You are..."
Her title was the [Saint of the End], but the demon who bore it — a girl of slight, brown-skinned frame — carried not even a trace of the [Destruction] one might expect from such a name.
In fact, at first glance, she came across as... a little dim.
Though not in the same way as Aura when she was being oblivious. This one felt different — more like an innocence that had simply never encountered the world at all.
Fíliya spent a brief moment sizing up this demon. Then, without bothering to exchange a single word with Tot, she flickered across the space and appeared at the girl's side — and simply grabbed her by the back of her collar, hoisting her into the air.
"Let's go."
Fíliya said it quietly, though it was unclear whether she was talking to Tot or to Solitär. Either way, in the next instant, they arrived somewhere else: a vast, open hall, clearly long past its prime.
The hall was ringed by crumbling walls. Every surface — cracked, scarred with old battle wounds — had long since been claimed by moss.
"So this is the Demon King's Castle. Even more ruined than I imagined."
Fíliya swept her gaze across the room, then carelessly set Tot down. She raised her hand and cast a spell, sweeping the hall clean of rubble and overgrowth, then spent a moment patching the fractured walls and sealing a large hole that gaped open in the ceiling.
When that was done, she gathered the cleared debris and, with an almost idle indifference, shaped it into something vaguely resembling a throne.
That'll do for now.
Satisfied enough, she turned her gaze back to Tot.
"How much longer until your virus spreads to cover the entire world?"
Fíliya asked.
"...At least five more years."
Tot sorted out her situation with a quick, quiet assessment — and then cooperated, answering Fíliya's question without resistance.
After all, deferring to the strong, and submitting to a more powerful member of one's own kind, was a habit carved into the very soul of the Demon Race.
Though that submission was hardly absolute. Weaker demons were quite willing to grovel for survival under a stronger one — but how much genuine loyalty one could expect from them was another matter entirely.
"I see. You don't seem to have any interest in fighting or destroying the world — so why are you doing any of this?"
The impression this [Saint of the End] gave Fíliya was of someone who simply didn't care about anything — a shut-in, completely detached from the world around her.
It made a certain kind of sense. This was a demon who had buried herself underground for who-knew-how-many years, hiding from everything.
That was precisely why Fíliya was curious: why had someone with a personality like this become the Demon Race's final trump card?
"Because it is my mission."
Tot delivered the answer with a vacant, uncomprehending look — and her expression made it clear that she herself didn't understand why such a mission had been placed on her shoulders.
"Do you hate humans? Do you hate the world?"
Fíliya pressed further.
But Tot simply shook her head, slowly.
"I don't care... I don't care about humans. I don't care about the Demon Race. It doesn't matter to me what the world becomes."
"All I need is... something to eat every day, and somewhere to sleep."
As she said it, Tot curled herself up on the spot — right in front of everyone — drawing her knees to her chest. A drowsy glint passed through her eyes, as though she might genuinely drift off to sleep in the next second.
"Is that so. In that case — call back all of your virus. There's no need to keep doing this. From now on, you live with us. The only thing I can promise you is that it will be far happier than spending your days alone in an underground burrow."
Fíliya moved at a measured pace and lowered herself onto the rough stone throne she had just shaped, then looked down at Tot with the calm authority of someone who had never questioned their right to look down.
For a moment, Tot fell into brief, quiet thought upon hearing Fíliya's words.
"Are you the new Demon King?"
Tot asked with mild curiosity.
"The Demon King... [King] is not a title one bestows upon oneself. To truly be the Demon King, you need the acknowledgment of the vast majority of the Demon Race — so no, I'm not one yet."
"Not yet..."
Tot lowered her head, quietly turning that phrase over in her mind.
"Then... is this an order?"
She tilted her head slightly and asked.
"Yes. This is an order."
At that, Tot seemed to deflate a little. She dropped onto the floor, wrapping both arms around her knees and resting her chin on top of them, her gaze drifting with faint bewilderment.
"...There's nothing to be done, then. Most things in this world are meaningless — but having the work I've kept at for nearly a hundred years suddenly declared meaningless too is... still a little painful."
There was a note of complaint in her voice — but even so, Tot slipped into the work without further delay.
Unseen currents of mana came flooding in from all directions, pouring into Tot's body from every side.
Fíliya understood exactly what this was: Tot interrupting and recalling the vast network of dormant, as-yet-unactivated virus she had scattered across the entire continent.
The process lasted roughly an hour. When Tot finally finished, exhaustion had settled visibly across her face.
"It took nearly a hundred years to spread it, but only an hour to take it all back. How strange."
Fíliya's tone was playfully dry — but her thoughts ran deeper. She knew full well what this meant.
[The more restrictions a magic carries, and the more difficult it is to invoke, the more powerful its effects tend to be.]
That was the theorem left behind by the great mage Flamme.
Which meant that Tot's curse — one that required a hundred years to bloom — would have been, had it been allowed to fully activate, an absolute catastrophe for humankind.
And the first thing Fíliya, this newly born Demon King, had done was help humanity quietly remove one of its most profound hidden threats.
Fíliya descended from the throne at a leisurely pace. As she continued to tease Tot with light words, she pressed a gentle current of mana into the girl's body — just enough to ease the hollow, drained feeling that had settled over her.
Tot stared at what Fíliya was doing, visibly puzzled.
"The previous Demon King never did anything like this for his subordinates. He only ever issued orders and went on his way."
So Tot said.
"Is that so. No wonder none of the great demons had any loyalty to speak of — and not a single one showed up to help when the Demon King was surrounded and killed."
Fíliya remarked with a joking lilt, throwing a light jab at her predecessor.
"Can I rest now...? Being woken up so suddenly has made me tired. And I'm... very hungry. I want to eat a lot. A lot of things."
Tot's eyelids were already staging a valiant struggle to stay open, as though sleep might claim her at any second.
Food... anything involving food would have to be left to Solitär.
With that thought, Fíliya turned to look at her.
"Solitär — Tot is in your care for now."
Miss Solitär, upon hearing this, was naturally less than pleased.
What is this girl going on about? She sleeps for ages, wakes up, and immediately starts making demands... And I really don't like that tone. You can't even bring yourself to call me 'big sister'!
"And if I say no?"
Solitär couldn't help herself.
"?"
This genuinely puzzled Fíliya. In her memory, Solitär had almost never refused her anything.
"Is that so... that's a bit of a problem, then. Tot — can you eat raw meat?"
Fíliya turned back to Tot and asked.
The question meant she was already prepared to go out and hunt a few monsters for the girl to eat.
"If possible... I'd prefer cooked meat. Something with flavor would be nice."
Tot had already closed her eyes — though she hadn't quite fallen asleep yet.
Watching the two of them go back and forth like this, Solitär felt the last of her composure rapidly approaching its limit.
She stepped forward and grabbed Fíliya by the collar.
The garment — one she had taken such care to cut and sew herself — crumpled instantly under her grip.
"You..."
And yet, even with Fíliya's collar firmly in hand, Solitär found herself unable to get a single word of accusation out. The grievance was there, swelling in her chest — but if she couldn't release it, what was she supposed to do with it?
"I understand. You're angry."
Looking into those eyes — so plainly, so nakedly full of fury — Fíliya still needed several long seconds to sort out what she was seeing.
Those words made something in Solitär's chest drop a little further.
Because the Fíliya from before would never have needed those seconds. No matter what was going on in Solitär's heart, that girl had always read it instantly — and always answered it with something warm, something reassuring, something that made the tension dissolve.
But now, all of that — all of those emotions — had clearly dulled.
Solitär found it almost impossible to picture. The word slow — the concept of being slow to feel — applied to the person standing in front of her.
Is this... the price of becoming a member of the Demon Race? Of becoming the Demon King?
Just as Solitär stood there, not quite knowing what to do with herself, Fíliya slowly raised her hand — and touched her cheek.
"I'm sorry, Solitär. I don't know why, but it always feels like there's a layer of fog over my thoughts. Anything to do with feeling — with emotion — always arrives one beat too late... It might be the effects of the transformation, or it might be something else entirely..."
She paused.
"But what I am completely certain of is this: my feelings for you haven't changed."
Solitär's head snapped up. Her expression was one of disbelief.
But then she saw it — the familiar smile curving at the corner of Fíliya's lips — and just like that, the knot in her chest loosened.
Is that so... Is that really how it is?
Yes... yes, of course. She only just became a demon. And demons... they've always been an emotionally distant race, by nature. But that doesn't mean they can't change.
Even Solitär herself — even Aura and Linie — had all, somewhere along the way, caught a trace of something human just from living alongside Fíliya.
So... Fíliya can find her way back too. She just needs a little time.
With that thought, Solitär finally managed to breathe again. She stepped back slowly — though not too far, because she couldn't quite bring herself to move too far — and settled into place at Fíliya's side.
"..."
Meanwhile, the girl who had so recently announced her intention to sleep — the Saint of the End, Tot, with her brown skin and golden eyes — was watching Fíliya and Solitär with open, uncomplicated curiosity, her gaze moving back and forth between them.
To Tot, after all, this was the first time she had ever witnessed two members of the Demon Race forge something as strange as this between each other.
At that moment, a set of clothes landed squarely on top of her.
Tot instinctively grabbed the bundle, then looked up at the one who had thrown it — Miss Aura — with an expression of pure puzzlement.
"Aura, what's this?"
Since they were all Great Demons, they naturally all knew each other by reputation.
"Heh... it's a family tradition. The newcomer spends a few months as a — well, what do you call it? A slave? A servant? Oh wait, no — a maid. That's it. A few months as a maid first, then we can talk about everything else. And you, Tot, you lazy thing — if you can't even do that right, you'll answer to me, Lady Aura."
Miss Aura was positively beaming. And for good reason: Tot, as it turned out, filled very nearly the same structural role as Aura in this little group — oh, not that role, she was a demon — and moreover, Tot's raw combat ability was, if anything, slightly below Aura's own. The only reason she held the august title of [Saint] was that terrifying ability of hers, the curse that could be unleashed upon the entire world.
Finally having found someone she could look down on, Miss Aura's spirits had never been higher.
But faced with Aura's insufferably imperious expression, Tot showed no particular resistance whatsoever. She simply tilted her head up, blinked with an expression of total innocence, and asked in the most guileless tone imaginable:
"Is there any food?"
---
The group spent some time after that renovating the Demon King's Castle, and used illumination magic to light up the long-abandoned halls.
Looking at the now-bright interior — no longer carrying that oppressive, gloomy air it had worn before — Fíliya felt a quiet satisfaction settle over her.
"This is so much better. We should do a proper renovation at some point — actual décor and everything. Do you think we could get some humans in to handle that?"
Fíliya floated the suggestion with an exploratory air.
"Do I need to remind you that we're supposed to be humanity's greatest enemies right now?" Solitär fixed her with a deeply unimpressed look. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what you just did. How could we possibly have any contact with humans at a time like this?"
"Mm..."
Fíliya gave a hasty nod of acknowledgment, then turned her gaze to the demon nearby who was currently inhaling food at an alarming rate.
"Tot. Nobody's going to steal it from you. You are, at minimum, a girl — could you possibly eat with a little less... ferocity?"
But Miss Tot, having fully transformed into a creature of pure gluttony, had completely lost the ability to hear anything addressed to her, and continued eating with single-minded, unstoppable purpose.
For a demon who had spent nearly a century foraging alone underground, the particular destructive power of Solitär's cooking was something Tot's current reaction communicated more eloquently than any words ever could.
"Well... she spent close to a hundred years hiding underground alone. She probably hasn't had anything decent to eat in all that time."
Seeing that Tot wasn't going to respond to her, Fíliya let it go without further comment and turned back to Solitär.
"While I was unconscious — those few months — was there any news from the human side?"
"...You've already started referring to yourself as something outside of 'humans' without even thinking about it."
Miss Solitär's mood was clearly somewhat better than usual, and she had apparently taken over the role of delivering dry observations — a role that, historically, Fíliya had always handled herself.
"Isn't that only natural? I'm not human anymore."
Fíliya said it lightly, and even raised a hand to idly touch the twin horns on her forehead.
She was genuinely grateful that what she'd ended up with were the same compact, petite horns as Solitär's.
If she'd grown something like Aura's enormous bull-horns, she privately thought, that might have gotten exhausting very quickly.
"No news whatsoever... Aura, Linie, and I took turns passing through quite a few cities in the Southern Nations, but we couldn't pick up even a whisper about anything like 'magic that can transform humans into demons' or 'the Emperor of the northern Empire being turned into a demon.'"
"I see... Is it just that three months isn't long enough? News can't possibly travel that fast — and besides... the Empire is probably throwing everything it has into suppressing the story."
Fíliya said it casually, but a smile crept across her face — thin, and not particularly kind.
"But even if they're trying to bury it — how long can they really keep that up? The Emperor can't exactly hide from the public forever... Ah, well. I'm not a patient person at the best of times. May as well give them a small push."
As she spoke, Fíliya rose slowly to her feet and began to gather a magic into being.
At that same moment — across the entire continent, in the mind of every human being whose body held even a trace of mana, even those no further along than an apprentice — a single voice rang out.
[ Those of you who hunger for power and for years beyond your allotted span — come to the Demon King's Castle at the far northern edge of the continent. Offer your loyalty, and receive what you have always dreamed of. The newborn Demon King will welcome you as kin among the Demon Race. The chance at eternal life stands before you now. I shall await your answer. ]
[ I am Demon King Fíliya. The Emperor of the Empire has already been transformed into a demon by my hand. Let that be proof enough. ]
"And do you think anyone will actually believe you?"
Solitär was the first to voice her doubts.
"Of course they will. A voice that appears suddenly inside someone's head triggers a primal human curiosity — I don't need them to believe it right away. I just need to light the spark, and they'll go out and verify it themselves. We can set this aside for now and let it ferment in its own time. We have other things to attend to."
With that, Fíliya dismissed the others entirely and began walking toward the far end of the empty main hall.
"...Don't follow me."
She didn't look back — she simply called out the words, stopping Miss Solitär, who had already started drifting after her.
"Don't worry. I'm only going to receive a guest. Solitär — look after the others for now, would you?"
As she spoke, Fíliya threw a brief glance toward where Tot and Aura were.
"...Honestly. She really has gotten very good at bossing people around all of a sudden, hasn't she."
Solitär narrowed her eyes at the retreating figure and let slip a quiet, trailing complaint.
By the time she reached the main throne room of the Demon King's Castle, Fíliya had already settled herself onto the throne at its center — unhurried, still, as though waiting for someone's arrival.
In the space between one breath and the next, a hand descended onto her shoulder — abrupt and uninvited.
"No matter how you look at it, you've gone too far this time."
The voice was familiar. Fíliya didn't need to turn around. There was only one person in the world who could appear before her in an instant like this.
Fíliya said nothing at first. And so her visitor had no choice but to continue on her own.
"[Magic to Transform Humans into Elves]... so that was only a test, wasn't it. What you truly wanted to ask, back then, was whether there existed a [Magic to Transform Humans into Demons] — am I right? Tch... When you found that there wasn't, you still refused to give up. And then... you actually went and did it yourself. You created that magic from nothing. What exactly are you trying to do?"
Serie's expression at that moment was, to put it generously, remarkable. If one were to read it closely — the look in her eyes was unmistakably the kind that only comes from watching someone brilliant squander every last drop of their potential.
"Hmm? Serie — wasn't it you who wanted me to become someone strong enough to stand at your side? And now you're unhappy?"
Fíliya lightly batted Serie's hand away and put a small measure of distance between them.
"What I wanted was... for you to do that as a human... I could have accepted you keeping demons as companions — but why did you have to turn yourself into one as well?"
There was a flash of accusation in Serie's eyes.
"That's actually quite easy to understand."
Fíliya smiled — composure perfectly intact — and continued.
"If I cannot stand on the same ground as them, think with the same identity as them — what right would I have to lead them into the future?"
Serie fell briefly silent. But she recovered quickly and moved to a new point of attack — she had prepared for this conversation long enough.
"Then... why spread that kind of temptation among humans? When faced with the lure of power and longevity, precious few humans will be able to resist."
"Ha — on that note, don't you find it rather interesting, Serie? Humans have fought the Demon Race for a thousand years. And yet, in the end, the temptation they face is whether to become the very thing they despise — whether to live on as the enemy they have always hated."
"...You've truly lost your mind. Stirring up a crisis like this will send shockwaves through human society — the damage could be even more catastrophic than leading a demon army in open invasion. I genuinely do not understand. What on earth could make you hate humanity this deeply?"
When those words left her lips, Serie meant every one of them.
She turned over in her memory every single thing this girl had done — each incident, each choice, each scene — and she could not make it add up. Fíliya had never once displayed hatred toward humans. If anything, she had been remarkably proactive about using her standing as a First-Class Mage to resolve crisis after crisis on humanity's behalf.
"I think you may have misread the situation, Serie. Yes — what I've done will shake the human world considerably. But human resilience and human courage are not so easily broken... And besides: when the ones consumed by desire choose to leave the human world of their own accord, what remains? Only those with the strength of will to resist the lure of power and immortality. Let those who stay rebuild a new order from the ground up — and let those who were swallowed by their own hunger come to me, where they can be remade. Honestly? I think this might even be a good thing for humanity."
"...It seems we've reached the end of what words can accomplish here."
Serie exhaled quietly. She was willing, in some part of herself, to acknowledge that there was a thread of genuine logic running through Fíliya's argument. But even so — if things truly unfolded the way this girl described...
What would the world look like? Whether or not humans managed to build a new order in fifty or a hundred years — the moment an existing order collapsed, it would bring with it unimaginable suffering and death in the interim.
As the leader of the Continental Magic Association, she could not stand by and allow that to happen.
The instant she had caught Fíliya's presence re-emerging into the world, she had come here immediately.
"Is that so. When humanity was on the verge of extinction — when the population had been ground down to a mere three percent — you didn't lift a finger. And yet now, you choose to stop me? Mm... All I've done is hold out a possibility to humanity. But you — you are the one reaching in with your own hands, concretely, to interfere with the choices they make."
Fíliya laughed — cold and contemptuous — and drove the words into Serie like a blade.
"...On that matter, I have spent a long time regretting it. I should have acted sooner. I should have helped humanity earlier. As for you... are you truly this angry? Because I made a fool of you once — is that why you've chosen the most extreme possible means of striking back?"
"Absolutely not. I will admit that what happened still rankles — but dragging the entire world into a personal grudge is contemptible, and I'd never do it. What I am doing is something I have been planning toward for a very long time. It has nothing to do with you. This is a trial — and I am its examiner. I am simply curious to see what choice humanity will make. That's all there is to it."
"Is that so... calling yourself an examiner, no less. And moreover... putting the entire human race to the test. If nothing else, that singular arrogance of yours is proof positive — you are still you, Fíliya. It seems that joining the Demon Race hasn't touched your mind in the slightest."
Serie let out one final sigh, her face written over with regret and something that looked almost like wistful feeling.
"How has Sense been, lately?"
The question came out of nowhere, and it caught Serie slightly off guard.
"Sense... not well, but not at her worst either. To be honest, I had expected that child to spend her days drowning in tears — but her emotions have been remarkably steady. Every so often she asks me whether I've found any trace of you. She clearly sensed something coming. The person who knows you best really is that child — no question about it."
"You... after doing something like this, are you really not..."
Afraid of hurting her?
The second half of the sentence never made it out. Fíliya's attack was already on its way — and it forced Serie to gather herself fully.
This girl had only been gone for three months. And yet the aura around her had already undergone another upheaval so vast it was scarcely believable.
Even Serie — even facing this Fíliya — had no choice but to pour every last thread of her attention into the fight.
If words won't reach her... then even if it's for that child's sake — I'll break this lunatic's legs, and drag her back by force.
That was Serie's final thought before the battle began.
Inside a newly constructed branch of the Continental Magic Association, located within the Empire.
A row of First-Class Mages stood in two lines, each face written over with the same taut, barely-contained anxiety.
Not fifteen minutes ago, they had been reporting to Serie as they always did — routine, ordinary, unremarkable. And then, in the space of a single instant, Serie had gone still. Something had passed across her face. Without a word of explanation, without even a backward glance, she had teleported out of the hall and vanished.
It was deeply unusual behavior.
After all, there were precious few things in this world that could stir Serie's interest enough to make her act on her own initiative. The God of Magic spent most of her time draped across her throne with an air of profound boredom, listening to the reports of those below her.
But just now, Serie had disappeared — her expression grave.
There seemed to be only one possible explanation for that.
And so, the moment their thoughts turned to that willful, mercurial girl they had all watched grow up — there was nothing left for any of them to do but wait in tense, wordless silence.
Of all of them, it was Sense whose feelings were the most tangled.
She wanted, of course, for Lady Serie to bring Fíliya back. Whatever Fíliya had become — even if she had become a demon — she was still her beloved little sister. As long as someone could stop Fíliya from making the mistake of setting herself against the entire human world, there was still hope. Everything could still be salvaged.
Carrying that thought, Sense became acutely aware of her own heartbeat — each pulse faster and harder than the last — and found herself waiting with growing, desperate anticipation for Serie's return.
Sometime later — barely thirty minutes, if that — Serie reappeared on her throne.
Her robes were visibly stained with blood. She had returned alone. And from the look on her face, the God of Magic was carrying a weight that did not sit lightly.
That quickly...
Sense's first feeling was bewilderment at the timeline.
Her second was a sinking of the heart, as she registered the fact that Serie had come back alone — without Fíliya.
"I'm sorry, Sense."
Serie spoke first, and her first words were directed downward — an apology, offered to Sense where she stood below the throne.
"That child is not who she was. Even I cannot bring her back."
Serie's answer was brief.
"Lady Serie... you're injured?" Lernen, standing at the head of the formation, asked carefully.
"Yes, that's correct — though most of what you're seeing is the child's blood. I didn't shed much of my own."
As she said it, the corner of Serie's mouth curved — involuntarily, just for a moment — into something that resembled a smile.
If she hadn't been thinking about the larger picture, her instincts as a pure battle-maniac would have found no small amount of pleasure in the fight she'd just had with Fíliya.
But the moment she remembered that she hadn't been able to resolve anything, the smile died on its own.
"If Fíliya was the one injured more, then why..." Genau began, his voice low. He didn't finish the sentence — but everyone in the room understood what he was asking.
"There was nothing I could do. That child appears to have acquired some form of... [Immortality]. I tried to break her legs — and my attack landed. It worked."
"But in the span of a single blink, her legs were already whole again. It wasn't divine healing. It wasn't simply a strong regeneration factor. I am absolutely certain of what I saw — it was [Immortality]. Which means I have no means of stopping her, and continuing to fight would have been pointless."
Serie's words sent the mood of the room plummeting.
Fíliya was already powerful enough to trade blows directly with Serie — and now she also possessed Immortality. What kind of threat was this? How were they supposed to deal with an enemy like this?
"It isn't quite as dire as it sounds... Though I say [Immortality], nothing in the world of magic is truly absolute. [Immortality] can be severed — there are means. But how to eliminate [Immortality] is an extraordinarily difficult problem to solve. Even if we pooled the full strength of the entire Association and the Empire together, it would not be something achievable in the short term."
Seeing the dejected look on everyone's faces, Serie moved quickly to offer some reassurance — but in the same breath, her own brow drew into a deep, troubled furrow.
"So before we decide that [Eliminating Immortality] is the method we'll use against Fíliya... I need all of you to help me think. Is there any other way? Speaking plainly — I do not want to kill that child. You feel the same way, don't you, Sense?"
"..."
Sense said nothing. As a sister, she obviously had no wish to harm Fíliya — but as a First-Class Mage of the Continental Magic Association, she had no choice but to regard the Fíliya of today as a threat to humanity.
"What about Frieren? Contact her. Stop letting that woman wander around at her leisure — it's time she contributed something."
Serie turned to look at Falsch. Falsch's shadow magic was the most suitable tool for tracking and contacting someone at a distance, so she had decided to dispatch him again to reach Frieren.
As for Serie herself — she was in far too foul a mood to consider leaving the hall.
At an angle none of the others could easily see, Serie's hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides.
Because in that moment, the image had come back to her — Fíliya, insufferably self-assured, the arrogance written plainly across her face.
Serie. You cannot do anything to me — just as you could never do anything to the Demon King.
You little brat... the moment I figure out how to deal with you, you had better be clean and ready, because I am coming for you.
Serie seethed, quietly and viciously.
"So then... what do we do now? Do we convene all First-Class Mages immediately to discuss countermeasures? Researching a solution magic specifically targeting [Immortality] is going to require an enormous amount of resources."
Lernen spoke again.
"That can't be rushed. For now, notify all branch offices. Have them coordinate with the cities in their respective areas — and above all, establish several defensive lines to prevent anyone from making for the far north and heading toward the Demon King's Castle."
Serie issued the order without hesitation.
Regardless of what Fíliya was planning, the only thing they could do right now was exactly that: stop as many of those deluded, bewitched fools as possible from answering her summons and walking into the Demon King's Castle.
---
Inside the Demon King's Castle, Fíliya was in a thoroughly bad mood.
The castle she had gone to such trouble to repair had, in the course of the battle with Serie just now, been reduced to rubble once again.
...Well. What can you do. Patch it back together.
But the surrounding walls and stones had been pulverized beyond usability, so she simply went into the nearby mountainside and pulled out a fresh supply of solid, intact rock to rebuild with.
Fortunately, her mana was now vast enough that spending it freely wasn't any kind of concern — and she moved quickly. Before long, the Demon King's Castle had been restored to its prior form.
"You're injured."
Only after Fíliya had finished did Solitär slowly appear at her side.
"Mm, it's nothing. I'd be more surprised if I came through a fight with the God of Magic completely unscathed, wouldn't you say?"
Fíliya looked at Solitär with calm, untroubled eyes.
"Honestly, it was something else — in barely half an hour, I nearly got killed by Serie three times... I suppose I still need to get properly accustomed to this body. My reaction speed in combat feels just a little slower than it used to be."
Killed... three times?
Solitär caught on the phrase with a flicker of confusion.
"The good news is that I'm not so easy to kill anymore. Here — watch."
As she said it, Fíliya simply demonstrated.
There was a sharp, clean crack — and Fíliya snapped her own forearm.
"—!"
Solitär flinched. But before she could get a single word out, Fíliya's arm was already whole again.
"..."
Solitär stared. The shock was even greater now.
A recovery at that speed was far beyond what self-healing could account for.
"And — I kept my promise to you, by the way. There is absolutely no chance now that I'll die before you do."
Fíliya smiled as she looked at Solitär.
The words gave Solitär pause — and then, in the next moment, a memory resurfaced: that old, anxious worry she used to carry, that Fíliya's human body meant she had no way to live on alongside her, to stay at her side into the far future.
"...You're right. Looking at things now, I'm the one who'd better be careful."
Solitär came back to herself and turned to Fíliya with a quiet smile.
"Mm. But don't worry — I promised, didn't I? No matter what happens, I will protect you."
"...How reassuring that is."
"What's going on?! What happened?!"
A panicked figure came crashing between Fíliya and Solitär.
Naturally, the person with absolutely no sense of timing was Miss Aura. The battle between Fíliya and Serie had been nothing more than a sounding-out for both parties — but the fact that half the Demon King's Castle had been reduced to rubble in the process was very much real.
Behind Aura, Linie's small head peeked out with quiet curiosity, stealing a glance at Fíliya.
"Where's Tot?"
Fíliya didn't explain anything first. She asked about something else entirely.
"Out cold. Sleeping like a dead pig."
There was a distinct note of grievance in Aura's answer. She had the vague, nagging feeling that Fíliya was paying just a little too much attention to the new addition.
"Is that so. To think there exists a member of the Demon Race even lazier and more carefree than Aura — genuinely fascinating."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Miss Aura was not pleased.
"Exactly what it sounds like."
"Tch. Linie — am I lazy?"
Aura clicked her tongue and turned to Linie with an expression that demanded validation.
What followed was Linie's head rotating away — slowly, mechanically, like a puppet whose joints had seized up — pointedly looking at absolutely anything else in the room.
"...Fine. Forget it. What in the world was all that noise just now?"
Aura decided not to pursue that line of inquiry any further.
"You already know the answer. At that level of mana — do you really need me to explain who showed up?"
Fíliya looked genuinely puzzled.
"...I... look, I just wanted something to talk about, alright? Since you turned into... this, you talk way less than you used to. Someone has to keep the conversation going."
Seeing that Fíliya had seen straight through her, Aura dropped the pretense entirely and switched to an expression of practiced innocence.
"Is that so."
Fíliya responded with nothing more than a puzzled nod, her thoughts drifting inward.
...So I talk less now? Then how much did I used to ramble on?
"You actually went and fought Serie... and came back looking completely fine. That's incredible. Does this mean no matter what kind of trouble we get into from now on, you can keep us safe?"
Aura asked with another look of open curiosity — and, mimicking something Fíliya used to do, bumped her lightly with her shoulder.
"Of course. I'll protect all of you."
Fíliya gave a quick, decisive nod — though she watched Aura's gesture with a faint sense of strangeness.
She understood that Aura was imitating her. But... why had she ever done that in the first place? She couldn't quite recall the reason anymore. Was it to express closeness? Something else?
...Whatever.
Fíliya didn't linger on the question. She simply turned and began walking in a particular direction.
"?! Where are you going?"
Aura scrambled after her with a bewildered look. Solitär and Linie followed suit without a word.
"Somewhere."
"...Right."
Nobody was satisfied with that answer. Obviously she was going somewhere — the question was where. Was it so hard to just say it? This girl was getting more and more fond of leaving people in suspense.
That's what Aura thought, anyway.
"At the same time I issued the proclamation to the human side, I also sent a separate notice to the Demon Race. You all received it, didn't you?"
Fíliya still had no intention of explaining her destination. Instead, she turned to confirm something else with the three of them.
"Yeah... a voice suddenly went off in my head just now. It took me a second before I realized it was you."
Aura nodded, then pressed further.
"You said [All members of the Demon Race must heed this directive and arrive at the Demon King's Castle within three months]... but is that even possible?"
If Fíliya wanted to become the Demon King, gathering every demon on the continent made a certain kind of sense — what Aura couldn't figure out was how she intended to make any of them actually listen.
The Demon Race was simply not capable of uniting.
Even the previous Demon King had only managed to gather followers through brute force, then let those subordinates each govern their own faction — a patchwork of divided rule. And even then, there had been plenty of demons who paid the Demon King's orders no mind whatsoever, doing exactly as they pleased. The prime example of that had been Macht.
"Why wouldn't it be possible? Including young ones, there are currently 1,175 demons remaining in existence. They're scattered across the continent, yes — but their ranges of activity are concentrated mostly in the central and northern regions. With the flight capabilities of the Demon Race... three months is more than enough time to reach the Demon King's Castle, as long as they aren't deliberately dragging their feet."
Fíliya saw nothing wrong with the timeline she'd set. Unlike Frieren, demons weren't the type to get distracted and waste time along the road for one reason or another.
"That's not what I mean!"
Aura felt the beginning of a headache coming on. She genuinely couldn't follow this anymore. Wasn't this girl supposed to be sharp? How had talking to her become this exhausting?
Does turning into a demon come with intelligence degradation as a side effect?!
What I'm getting at is obviously not about the time!
Aura bit the corner of her lip and pressed on.
"I'm saying — those demons won't pay any attention to your orders! You tell them to arrive in three months, and they'll just... do it? And besides, right now, apart from the few of us standing here, absolutely nobody recognizes you as Demon King!"
"Demons — as a species — if you're not standing right in front of them and threatening them with your fists, they won't take you seriously! Look!"
Aura said it with heat, even producing a notebook from somewhere and thrusting it into Fíliya's hands.
"This is your own research journal — how can you have forgotten it?!"
Fíliya blinked, looking down at the notebook now in her hands.
This was exactly what she had used at the very beginning to research and document the behavioral patterns of the Demon Race. When had it ended up with Aura?
"I gave it to her."
Solitär stepped in with the explanation.
"I see."
Fíliya nodded — but she didn't open the notebook. She simply handed it back to Aura.
"In other words, I need someone to act as a drover and prod this rabble along for me. Using the threat of their lives... to force every demon to make their way to me. Understood."
Fíliya nodded again, her expression perfectly calm — but for Miss Aura, that calmness was precisely the problem.
The thing was, this girl's emotions were just too steady. The old Fíliya would have fired back a quip without missing a beat — something like "Look at you, Aura, actually daring to talk back to me. Let me show you what happens next" — and then proceeded to grind her into the floor.
...Aura absolutely denied being a masochist. She wasn't hoping for Fíliya to do anything to her. It was simply that the Fíliya in front of her right now felt... somehow dull.
"Lady Fíliya needs time."
At that moment, Linie — as though she had seen right through what Aura was feeling — spoke softly, the words directed only at her.
"I know... I know that, obviously..."
Aura let out a quiet sigh, and could only hope that the girl in front of her would find her way back — sooner rather than later — to the person she recognized.