Chapter 131 - yyy

"We're here."

Fíliya arrived at a place of extraordinary lushness — vegetation so dense and wild it could have passed for a primeval forest.

What caught the eye most was this: amid the sprawling thickets of orchid grass, a warm spring welled up from the rock beneath. It pooled in the natural hollows, forming two or three shallow ponds; the water was a soft milky white, breathing with slow, pearl-like bubbles.

"So it is here."

Solitär had had her suspicions the moment she noticed Fíliya heading in this direction.

"Mm."

Fíliya gave a quiet nod, her expression composed.

"Wait — what are you two going on about?! Where is this? Is there really a place this lush right near the Demon King's Castle...? I don't remember it at all."

In complete contrast to Solitär, both Aura and Linie were entirely at a loss — they hadn't the faintest idea where they were.

"Hmm? Aura — are you really one of the Seven Sages of Destruction?"

Fíliya turned to look at her with a genuinely puzzled expression.

"O-of course I am..."

Being fixed with that stare, Aura felt an inexplicable pang of guilt.

"That's strange, then. Do you rarely visit the Demon King's Castle? Even I know that Aureole sits right next to it."

"...?! Oh — this is Aureole... I've only ever heard of it... You come to the Demon King's Castle to see the previous Demon King, and then you leave — who wanders around the vicinity for no reason..."

Miss Aura mumbled under her breath, clearly making excuses for herself.

"So then — does Aureole actually have souls dwelling within it? I can't sense anything at all."

Solitär stepped forward as well, scanning the spring's surroundings with a look of open curiosity.

"There are — but the Demon Race likely can't perceive them. Humans, on the other hand, would probably be able to converse with the lingering souls here... Though rather than saying souls dwell here, it's more accurate to call this place a channel leading toward Heaven."

Fíliya offered the explanation with calm certainty, then let her gaze drift toward the spring's source — as though she could see something there that no one else could.

"Mm... and it isn't only humans, either. All living beings except the Demon Race — Dwarves, Elves, humans... so many, so many."

"What does that mean... that the Demon Race has no souls? Or that we don't deserve Heaven?"

Aura pressed her lips together with an expression of undisguised displeasure.

"Of course the Demon Race has souls — your own Magic of Obedience is the best proof of that. It's simply that when demons die, they leave no body behind. And demons have all, to varying degrees, committed a great deal of evil. They simply don't qualify to pass through here."

"Then... what exactly did you come here to do? There shouldn't be anyone here you want to see. And didn't you just say the Demon Race can't communicate with the souls here?"

Aura pressed on, now genuinely curious.

"That's true — the souls here refuse any communication with the Demon Race. I'm no exception. It seems they harbor quite a deep hatred of our kind."

Fíliya nodded, and the corner of her mouth curved slightly upward.

"There truly is no one here whom I hold dear... and that, in truth, is something to be glad of — isn't it?"

"..."

The three behind her fell silent. They all sensed that Fíliya had something planned, and so they fixed their eyes on her — the look of people bracing themselves for a spectacle.

"Since communication is off the table, it seems the only option remaining is to simply take someone by force."

As she said it, Fíliya closed her eyes — and then a terrifying pressure, together with a surging torrent of mana, began to burst from her body in great, crashing waves.

The three behind her instantly pressed their hair down against the wind, steadied their footing, and squinted to watch what was unfolding ahead of them.

In no time at all, something materialized beside Fíliya — a woman's body, fully clothed, conjured from nothing at all.

From the orange braided hair that fell all the way down to the back of the knee, Solitär had already formed a fairly clear idea of whose body Fíliya was constructing.

And once the woman's face was fully shaped, Solitär was able to confirm it completely.

[The Great Mage Flamme.]

"She didn't even use that barrier magic...?! And she can still call Flamme out?!"

Aura was immediately taken aback. She simply couldn't fathom what level of power Fíliya had reached anymore.

"This is called [Fantasy Materialization]. I used the impressions recorded in [The Other Shore] to sculpt Flamme's body directly."

As she spoke, Fíliya brought the vacant, hollow-eyed shell of Flamme's body before the group — and even, with an air of idle amusement, made the empty body perform a few small gestures.

But the three demons before her were clearly in no state to appreciate the display. What Fíliya had done had surpassed every frame of reference any of them possessed.

"As for the soul — that's where it gets tricky. Wresting someone away through Aureole is bound to take considerable effort."

Seeing that none of the three had given her the reaction she was hoping for, Fíliya said nothing and simply turned back to resume her work.

The process took a long time. Even her now-seemingly-bottomless reserves of mana showed the faintest signs of beginning to run dry — and only then did she finally retrieve what she had come for.

She poured that slender thread of pure white soul into the empty shell.

A few seconds passed.

The body she had crafted began to recover its awareness and its capacity for movement. Flamme's eyelids trembled faintly — as though she might open them at any moment.

The sight left all three demons completely speechless.

To sculpt a human body from nothing... and then to forcibly retrieve a soul from Heaven itself — did that not mean that the Fíliya of today could revive anyone she pleased, on a whim alone?

Such magic was nothing short of... a miracle. A divine miracle, beyond any question.

"What are you all so shocked about? Come to think of it... combat has never really been my strong suit. What I'm truly best at has always been this kind of thing — this rule-breaking trickery of mine."

Fíliya was clearly quite pleased with what she had accomplished. With this alone, she had reached, in the most literal sense, the [Domain of the Divine].

"The unfortunate part is that I have no idea where demon souls go — or perhaps they simply dissolve upon death... Otherwise I could have fashioned a few more useful allies from scratch. So please — take good care of your lives. If any of you die, I honestly wouldn't know where to begin looking for you."

Fíliya let the wistful expression fade quickly from her face and turned to the three of them with a look of genuine gravity.

And just then, the Great Mage Flamme finally opened her eyes.

The instant she saw Fíliya, she was visibly startled — but in the very next moment, fury crossed her face.

"You ungrateful student... so you went ahead and did the very thing I least wanted you to do."

Flamme's comprehension was clearly far beyond the ordinary. A single glance at the surrounding environment — and at the expressions of the demons standing before her — seemed to tell her everything at once.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your rest, Teacher."

Fíliya looked toward Flamme with an expression that carried a trace of genuine apology.

"...So just how much trouble have you caused this time? That you'd resort to something like resurrecting me... Though if you can pull off even this, then I suppose you truly are the disciple I chose."

Flamme's brow furrowed deeply — but quickly smoothed again, and a smile broke through.

"Hmm? Shouldn't you be furious, Teacher?"

Flamme's reaction left Fíliya slightly startled.

"Furious? Of course I'm furious — I took you as my disciple so you could become a cornerstone of humanity, and now you're telling me you turned yourself into a demon?!"

Flamme's face fell immediately into a stern mask as she drew the words out, slow and heavy with indignation — but then she continued:

"But... as a teacher, the most joyful moment of one's life is watching a disciple surpass you. Watching them reach a height even you could never have imagined. On that count, I am still very glad... Now — what exactly is going on here?"

Flamme pressed on with her questions.

"Well... I transformed the Emperor of the Empire into a demon..."

Fíliya instinctively scratched the back of her head, and then proceeded to lay out everything she had done for Flamme, one thing at a time.

"You really are..."

Flamme put on a look of pure fury and raised her hand.

Seeing this, Fíliya reflexively raised her hand to defend herself — but then, as though some thought crossed her mind, she immediately lowered it again and simply stood still, waiting quietly for the slap to land.

...Getting smacked by my teacher shouldn't be a problem.

That was her thought — she even deliberately deactivated her pain-suppression. But the anticipated slap never reached her face.

"Haah..."

All that came was a long, slow exhale from Flamme.

"So then — what is it you want from me? I am not capable of supporting what you've done. If you try to make me serve at your side, I'll cut my own throat and return to Heaven."

"Mm. Don't worry — I have no intention of forcing you, Teacher. Quite the opposite, actually. I want you to go to the human side... Go and see Serie, and see what this new world has become. They must be racking their brains right now trying to figure out how to deal with me... So — please, Teacher. Go and give them a little hope."

Inside a wooden cabin in a small village, three figures sat facing one another in silence.

The two of them had been staring at each other for what felt like forever, not a single word passing between them — and Stark had finally reached his limit.

"What are you two even doing... You've been like this since a while ago, all secretive and strange."

"?! Stark, you didn't hear it?"

Fern immediately looked up in surprise. Up until now, Stark had been watching the two of them so carefully, reading the room so perfectly — cooperating with their silence so naturally — that Fern had simply assumed he must have heard the voice too.

"Hear it? Hear what?"

Stark was completely lost.

"...Ms. Frieren, that voice just now — it was definitely her, wasn't it..."

Seeing that Stark genuinely had no idea what they were talking about, Fern turned to look at Frieren instead.

"Yes. No question about it... The fact that Stark couldn't hear it is actually good news, in its own way. It means that woman's words can only reach people whose bodies carry mana — in other words, monks and mages."

Frieren's expression was grave, but she still delivered her analysis quickly and without hesitation.

The three of them had long since lost any appetite for travel. They had already left the Imperial Capital, but they'd been drifting around the small towns and villages nearby, unable to move on.

The weight of what had happened was simply too great.

"Fíliya has already declared herself Demon King... Are we still going to keep traveling?"

Fern asked, her voice uncertain.

After all, the whole reason she and Frieren had set out in the first place was to journey to the Demon King's Castle — to reach Aureole, that place of rest for departed souls, and see once more the people they had lost. And now the Demon King's Castle had been reclaimed by a new Demon King. Whether they could — or should — still press forward in that direction was a question that knotted itself tightly in Fern's chest.

"Even if we wanted to go now, there's no way through. The moment Fíliya's proclamation went out, the Continental Magic Association will have immediately begun organizing countermeasures. Their first move will be to cut off every route leading to the far north... Though we also can't rule out the possibility that mages within the Association itself might be swayed by Fíliya's offer and choose to defect to the Demon Race."

"And it won't stop at mages. Fíliya's words may only be able to reach people who carry mana — for now — but the nobles and ruling classes of every nation will easily learn of it through the mages at their sides. So... what we can expect is this: the human world is about to be thrown into violent upheaval. There will be plenty of people willing to give up everything they have, just for the chance to become a demon."

" "

Frieren's words made Fern's mood sink even lower.

Stark, meanwhile, still looked thoroughly baffled.

"Is that really how it is... Most humans alive today despise the Demon Race from the bottom of their hearts, don't they? If it were me, I'd never want to become a demon."

Stark said it plainly and with absolute conviction. He had pieced together a rough picture of the situation from what Frieren and Fern had been saying — the boy only looked simple. Anyone who was truly dim-witted couldn't possibly have become a disciple of the legendary warrior Eisen.

"You're not wrong... but you're underestimating just how powerful the lure of a longer life is for humans."

Frieren fixed Stark with a long, quiet look, then let out a slow sigh. If only all humans were as straightforward and full of conviction as he was — things would be so much simpler.

As one of the long-lived races, Frieren understood better than almost anyone in this world what the promise of a longer life truly meant to the short-lived — and just how irresistible that temptation could be.

"For a thousand years, humans have never once stopped researching methods of life extension — spells, techniques, anything they could find... Some of the more extreme factions even resorted to capturing Elves and members of the Demon Race, hoping to wrest the secret of longevity from those who could not die."

Frieren spoke slowly, drawing out a piece of history that had long been sealed away.

"?! Something like that actually happened..."

Stark was visibly taken aback.

"And then what happened?"

Fern's curiosity had been stirred, and she pressed Frieren to continue.

"That organization was destroyed by a joint force of humans and Elves. The surviving Elves were rescued. The demons were killed in passing, without a second thought. On the surface, it looked like a perfect resolution — but I think you can both understand: the organization could be wiped out, but the human desire for immortality is something that can never truly be extinguished."

Frieren's words left Fern and Stark in a brief, heavy silence. It was a long moment before Fern finally spoke again, her voice carrying a note of quiet defeat.

"Fíliya... why would she do something like this."

Fern was despondent. She had no desire to get swept up in something of this magnitude — she wanted nothing more than to travel quietly alongside Frieren and Stark, to the end of the road they had set out on together.

And beyond that — she didn't want to become Fíliya's enemy.

She had, countless times, run through imaginary battles in her mind with Fíliya standing across from her as a hypothetical opponent — but those were always sparring exercises at heart, a desire to test herself against someone worthy. It was never about standing on opposing sides of a battlefield and fighting to kill.

"Who knows... That woman's thought process is beyond anyone's ability to follow."

Frieren's voice took on an edge of something close to irritation.

The atmosphere had grown stiff and uncomfortable. Even Stark seemed a little deflated. In his memory, Fíliya had always been a little odd, a little eccentric in her behavior — but on the whole, she had been a good person. And someone Fern had considered a true friend.

How had things... suddenly come to this?

The three of them sat with their tangled, bitter feelings, and none of them could find any words left to say.

It was at that moment that all three of them felt something intrude upon the room. The two mages sensed it immediately — a faint, faint ripple of mana. Stark caught it through something else entirely: a warrior's instinct, sharp and wordless, that told him something was wrong.

Fern raised her staff in an instant — but Frieren shook her head at her, a small gesture that said: not an enemy.

And then, from the shadows pooled in the corner of the room, a figure slowly emerged.

"Mr. Falsch?!"

Fern startled. It was the first time she had ever seen magic quite like it — someone simply stepping out of a shadow as though it were a door.

"Ms. Frieren. And First-Class Mage Fern. I've come to relay a message from Lady Serie. Lady Serie asks that you suspend your travels and return to the Association to lend your strength — you both heard Fíliya's voice, I take it?"

Falsch pushed his glasses up with his usual unhurried habit, his expression utterly composed and unreadable.

"Oh? Now that's interesting... Serie is actually asking for my help? Does that mean she's already met with Fíliya?"

Frieren caught it immediately.

"Yes. Lady Serie has already engaged Fíliya in combat... but for reasons she did not fully elaborate on, Lady Serie has determined that she cannot stop Fíliya as things currently stand."

For two as critical to their fighting strength as Frieren and Fern, Falsch saw no reason to conceal anything — and besides, Lady Serie had given him no specific instructions about what to withhold.

"Oh?"

Frieren's brow rose at that. So even Serie herself had things she couldn't accomplish.

"Yes... According to Lady Serie, the Fíliya of today possesses some form of Immortality. Because of that, Lady Serie has concluded that fighting her would be entirely without meaning. To deal with the Fíliya of today, they will first need to find some countermeasure specifically targeting Immortality."

"I see... So that's how it is."

Frieren nodded slowly at that, then turned to Fern.

"Fern — what do you want to do?"

"I'm going."

Fern answered without a moment's hesitation. Whatever else was true — if there was any chance of stopping Fíliya, the only way to start was by standing in front of her.

"I'm heading out for a bit."

The words came right after lunch — barely a moment after everyone had finished the perfect meal Solitär had prepared. Fíliya addressed the group at the table in the Demon King's Castle without preamble or ceremony.

"Where are you going?" Solitär asked, her brow furrowed.

"To go drag someone useful back here. You don't need to come with me — it might take a while, and there are still several mouths here that need looking after."

Fíliya had read the look on Solitär's face the moment it appeared and moved to head it off before it could become a request.

Solitär turned with a resigned sigh and looked at the demons seated before her — the ones who gave her nothing but headaches.

Linie, at least, was a good child. As for the other two...

Ugh. Pure dead weight.

Solitär had always harbored an inexplicable, bone-deep hostility toward Aura. And ever since the pale-skinned, white-haired Tot had arrived, that hostility had — quite naturally — been split to include her as well.

Not that Tot seemed capable of registering hostility at all. If anything, she appeared to genuinely like Solitär — which was perhaps inevitable, given that Solitär was the one who fed her.

"More, please."

Tot's flat, toneless voice landed in Solitär's ear once again.

Solitär looked at the girl — all wide, innocent eyes, plate held out for another helping — and could only let out a slow, quiet exhale.

How does she out-eat even Aura...

"Solitär. You never told me you could cook this well."

Tot received her second helping and turned to look at Solitär with a smile that spread all the way across her face.

"Tot. You never told me you could eat this much," Solitär replied, her tone several degrees cooler.

Not that the two of them were strangers, exactly — they went back over eighty years, to that battle surrounding the Hero's party, when they had fought in the same unit. But now that Solitär thought about it... even back then, Tot had been the one hanging furthest back, doing the least, while Solitär herself had been providing support from the flanks.

...So she was always like this. Even then, she had every sign of becoming a complete layabout. Solitär let the thought unravel quietly in her mind.

Watching the exchange play out before her, the corner of Fíliya's mouth curved upward without her quite meaning it to.

Her emotional range was nowhere near as broad as it used to be — but this, somehow, was still enough. A warmth that qualified, in its small way, as happiness.

"Then I'll be off," Fíliya murmured — and vanished from the spot.

The Demon King's Castle did have a front gate. Fíliya had simply never used it once.

In the next instant, she was standing in a vast, sprawling forest.

She took a quick look around to get her bearings — then locked onto her target without hesitation.

The one she was looking for was asleep in a cave not far away.

Demon habitation, she had observed, followed one of two patterns: a natural cave they had claimed for themselves, or a burrow they had dug with their own hands. No exceptions.

What a way to live — like something that belongs in a ditch. Or... is it simply that the Demon Race has no capacity for construction whatsoever?

The thought took hold of her, and the more she turned it over, the more it seemed to hold water. After all, even Solitär — a demon who had mastered no fewer than a hundred human crafts — had only ever taken an existing, abandoned shipyard and renovated it. That little lakeside cabin had been built entirely by Fíliya's own hands. And when Fíliya had mentioned wanting to properly furnish the Demon King's Castle, Solitär's face had gone through a very particular kind of difficulty.

Yes. The conclusion is obvious. The Demon Race simply had no architectural ability whatsoever. Even Solitär couldn't build a house.

The revelation was genuinely surprising — though Fíliya recovered quickly and remembered what she had actually come here to do.

She moved forward, closing the distance to the cave in steady, unhurried steps.

When she drew close enough, the figure inside gave no sign of waking. No flicker of awareness. No shift in posture.

Fíliya's expression shifted immediately into something flat and contemptuous.

"Don't play dead. I know you're awake."

At those words, the massive figure — nearly two meters tall — finally stirred. Slowly, languidly, Rivale opened his eyes.

"Hm? I didn't expect to receive a visitor in a place like this... and such a distinguished one, at that."

Rivale rose to a sitting position, his voice carrying that characteristic mix of easy indolence and genuine curiosity as he regarded her.

"I wouldn't have imagined that in the short time since we last met, Lady Fíliya would already have become one of our own... How exactly did you manage that? To my knowledge, no such magic exists in this world. Even the previous Demon King was never capable of anything of the sort."

"Which is precisely why the one who can do it is the right person to be the next Demon King, wouldn't you say?"

Fíliya answered with the easy arrogance of someone who considered the point self-evident — then shifted immediately to an accusing tone.

"You received my directive, didn't you? Then why are you still lounging in a cave without having moved an inch?"

"Hm?"

Rivale tilted his head at that, a look of genuine puzzlement crossing his face.

"Does Lady Fíliya truly believe that getting the Demon Race to follow an order is as simple as saying the words? I don't think you're that naive. Never mind me — even the most ordinary, low-ranking demon wouldn't take your command seriously. They'd write it off as a strange noise inside their head."

"Is that so. Then this works out perfectly — I need your help with something. Someone needs to deliver consequences to the ones who feel they can ignore the Demon King's orders."

"Mm... I see. But you have the ability to locate any demon at will now, don't you? Wouldn't it be more effective — and more efficient — for you to personally make an example of them?"

Rivale maintained his unhurried posture and unhurried tone throughout, as though this were the most casual of conversations.

"Hah."

Fíliya's response was a single cold laugh.

"You're suggesting that the King should personally track down and discipline every last one of them? I have better things to do with my time."

"Mm. That's fair — a King should conserve their energy for what truly matters."

Rivale, for once, offered no pushback. He simply nodded, with the air of someone who found the point entirely reasonable.

"So then — swear your loyalty to me. I'll keep you busy enough to satisfy you, and I can promise you all the battles you could ever want."

Seeing her opening, Fíliya made her offer directly.

"Hm. Scrapping it out with small fry doesn't qualify as acceptable compensation."

Rivale smiled and declined.

"Oh? And if I told you I could arrange the one fight you've been dreaming of — a duel to the death?"

Fíliya pressed on.

This time, something finally moved in Rivale's expression. He didn't nod — but neither did he look away. Instead, he gave a light, quiet laugh.

"Ah... now I begin to understand why Solitär chose you. You do have a rare gift for dealing with our kind... But I'm afraid I'm rather different from other demons, Lady Fíliya. Words alone cannot sway me. If you want my loyalty — you'll have to earn it the way a warrior earns things."

...So after all that back-and-forth, it still comes down to a fight.

Fíliya clicked her tongue inwardly — but didn't waste breath on protest. She simply reached to her side and drew the golden one-handed sword she had prepared for exactly this.

The trash in this house just keeps piling up."

Solitär stared at the uninvited guest, her expression completely blank.

...Who could have imagined that the one revered throughout the Demon Race as the [War God] would be sitting there after dinner, idly fiddling with his cutlery like a man whose mind had gone somewhere else entirely.

The scene was objectively absurd — but she was in no mood to appreciate it.

"Solitär, you seem rather unhappy," Fíliya said, glancing over at her with calm, unhurried eyes.

"Isn't that obvious? Why did you drag him back here? I have absolutely no desire to see him sitting at my table."

"Mm. Because I promised to show him the Demon Race's future way of living," Fíliya explained, her tone completely offhand.

Meanwhile, Rivale had clearly noticed the naked contempt in Solitär's gaze — and found it far too interesting to let pass.

"Oh? I'm not even worthy of a seat at the table...? I don't recall ever offending you, Solitär. Or perhaps the current Demon King governs by a matriarchal system?"

Rivale shot back at her with obvious relish.

"Tch."

Solitär let out an audible click of her tongue and was already opening her mouth to fire back — when Fíliya cut in, shutting down the exchange before it could go anywhere.

"Both of you, enough. Rivale — you've had sufficient time to enjoy domestic life. Go and do your job."

Fíliya's face was completely unreadable as she issued the order.

Inwardly, she was marveling at just how thick Rivale's skin truly was. It had taken no small amount of effort to beat him into submission — and she fully intended to make every bit of that effort worth her while.

"Yes, yes..."

Rivale let out a quiet, resigned sigh and set his cutlery down on the table, then rose and turned toward the door.

"Round up all the demons who've been dragging their feet on the Demon King's orders, then herd the lower-ranked ones to the Demon King's Castle like a farmer driving pigs and sheep... What a mind-numbingly dull assignment."

Grumbling the whole while, Rivale nonetheless raised his weapon in one clean, practiced motion — and vanished from the room in a flash.

...

"So that's what you meant by your [muscle]."

With that insufferable figure finally gone, Solitär's expression softened by the smallest degree.

"Of course. He's perfectly suited for it, don't you think?" Fíliya replied, her voice carrying no particular feeling.

"It's not a question of 'suited for it'... That's Rivale. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I honestly couldn't have imagined him obeying anyone... Are you genuinely invincible now?"

Beside her, Aura looked visibly stunned.

Invincible, hm? What a wonderful word. I rather like it.

A faint, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of Fíliya's mouth as Aura's words settled over her.

Even Tot — who gave every impression of being interested in nothing whatsoever outside of eating and sleeping — turned to look, her eyes carrying a rare flicker of curiosity.

"Indeed. How did you manage it, My Lord Demon King? 'Lil' Ri' isn't exactly the easiest to bring to heel."

Lil' Ri...

The nickname gave Fíliya pause, and she found herself frowning. Applying a cutesy diminutive to a man who stood nearly two meters tall was... genuinely revolting.

"'Bring to heel?' Wrong. I beat it into him. He's genuinely difficult to handle — simply killing him would've been far easier. Making him submit without taking his life, though... that was the hard part."

"...Is that so."

Solitär's brow furrowed slightly, and she began to fix Fíliya with a probing, analytical stare.

What she most wanted to know right now was... just how had Fíliya ascended to what she was today?

Could simply changing one's race really bring about a transformation this absurd?

Solitär found her mind drifting back involuntarily to those three months when Fíliya had lain unconscious. What, exactly, had she experienced during that sleep — to have soared so impossibly high, so suddenly, becoming in one leap a force capable of reshaping the world and bending the course of history?

"Mm. I can tell you're very curious."

Fíliya snapped her head around and met Solitär's eyes directly.

"...Stop peeking into my thoughts."

Solitär startled, then immediately shot Fíliya a look of pure, undisguised displeasure.

"Hmm... I wasn't, though? Everything you're thinking is written right there on your face."

Fíliya looked at her with an expression of complete innocence, then continued.

"Every member of the Demon Race is born with an innate Talent Magic — isn't that right? It seems I'm no exception, even having become one after the fact."

Fíliya's tone remained perfectly calm — but in Solitär's chest, those words sent a shockwave crashing through.

Was Fíliya saying that the [Talent] she had acquired was the key to her sudden, explosive transformation?

Solitär stared at her, unblinking — a look that said, very clearly: stop stringing me along.

The others present seemed equally gripped by the question.

So Fíliya spoke again.

"Mm. As for what I obtained... I'm honestly not sure how to name it. For now, I'll call it the [Magic to Inscribe One's Being into Every Passing Moment]."

Fíliya offered the name with a tone that was faintly, deliberately cryptic.

"The Magic to Inscribe One's Being into Every Passing Moment..."

Solitär murmured the name quietly under her breath — but her face remained full of confusion. After all, who could possibly divine what this magic actually did just from the riddle of its name?

"Mm. In rough terms — I have become part of the laws of the world itself, woven into the very timescale of this world's existence. My [Being] is engraved into every single moment, every passing second — and that is the source of my [Immortality]."

"But that's not all this magic does. You see — from the very instant the world was born, I already [Existed] within it. And for the Demon Race, as long as one's age keeps growing, mana naturally grows alongside it without any need for cultivation... Mm. After all, the Demon Race is mana's most beloved."

"In other words..."

Hearing such a staggering truth spoken from Fíliya's own lips, even this gathering of formidable, world-weary Great Demons found their eyes going wide.

"Mm... Yes. To all of you, I was only asleep for three months. But to me — it was like living through... a vast and sweeping history. Starting from the Age of the Gods, one moment at a time, one second at a time, all the way to the present — and I gained mana equal to every single one of those years."

"Mm. Come to think of it — compared to me now, every one of you is more like an unweaned child. I am this world's true [Elder]."

Fíliya finished the sentence with a light, quiet laugh.

Lady Solitär, however, was clearly not buying a single word of it.

"You spent all that time inside some mental world... and now you want to lord it over everyone?"

"Hmm? You're that reluctant to give up your [Big Sister] status? Swapping positions, I'd say, wouldn't change much."

"It changes everything!"

Solitär declared her position with absolute, iron-clad certainty.

The idea that she should accept Fíliya as factually older than herself — that was a complete impossibility. Such foundational logic could not simply be overturned on a whim.

"Fine..."

Seeing that Solitär was immovable, Fíliya let the matter drop.

In any case, the heights she had reached were the product of extraordinary coincidence — as though at every critical juncture, some strange and perfect anomaly had slotted into place, ultimately producing a result no one could have predicted.

And there was something she had not fully disclosed to Solitär and the others — something like... the in-mind shop that had once allowed her to exchange accumulated emotional points for magic. It was completely gone now.

After she had sent her proclamation out to the human world, the emotional points she had gathered had swiftly lost all meaning. The numbers had grown to a scale where she could simply obtain whatever magic she desired — and so the shop had ceased to have any purpose.

She had emptied it of everything. Every last spell. Except for the [Future Sight]-type magic she still loathed with every fiber of her being.

Now, in the most literal sense of the word, she was omnipotent.

"And yet... if that's who you are now, why do you even need followers around you? At this point, you can do anything you want, can't you?"

Solitär voiced the question aloud, her tone carrying a low, subdued weight.

Because — even if she could still just barely maintain the posture of an older sister — she couldn't help but wonder what value she actually held for Fíliya anymore.

"Mm... of course there's meaning in having all of you by my side. Not just for me — even for this world, your presence carries a very... positive effect."

Fíliya turned to face the group, and smiled.

Everyone leaned in and listened closely.

"Without you all, I'd probably go mad. And who could say what an insane [Demon King] might do to this world — especially one with [Immortality]? Just imagining it is terrifying, isn't it?"

Her expression remained perfectly calm as she said it.

But everyone understood what she meant.

The [Magic to Inscribe One's Being into Every Passing Moment] — it truly was a remarkable thing. Everything Fíliya had described up until now had been the [benefits] of this magic.

So then — what were the drawbacks?

The answer was obvious. It meant that Fíliya bore every emotion from every single slice of time, all at once.

When she suffered in one moment, that suffering was multiplied countless times over.

When she felt lost in one moment, an emptiness — a deathly stillness — would seep into every part of her, lingering without end.

Joy and hope on one side, ruin and despair on the other — inside Fíliya's mind right now, there had to be a torrent of intertwined emotion vast enough to shatter any ordinary person in an instant.

"So... we misunderstood you."

Solitär murmured the words, her face carrying a look of quiet disbelief.

She had initially assumed that Fíliya's emotional detachment was a consequence of having become part of the Demon Race.

But now the truth was plain — Fíliya's emotional withdrawal was a self-protective mechanism, forged through countless battles against the countless fractured versions of herself, each bound to a different passing moment.

Her mental fortitude was already extraordinary — and yet she had still been forced to dull her own sensitivity to emotion, just to survive the torment of every single second.

"Alright, why all the long faces? If I can tell you this much, doesn't that mean I'm doing just fine right now?"

Seeing the forlorn look on Solitär's face, it was Fíliya who moved to offer comfort first.

"...I suppose so."

Solitär drew a slow, steady breath, and chose to honor what Fíliya was asking of her — to stop dwelling on it and let it go. She cast a quiet glance around at the others, silently conveying the same message.

"Good. Then let's return to what we were discussing... It seems the humans have already begun constructing defensive lines. That simply won't do — how can anyone be allowed to obstruct humanity's pursuit of [desire]?"

A faint, contemptuous smile touched the corner of Fíliya's mouth as she spoke.

"Allow me to go and destroy the human defensive lines. I want to be a force for Lord Fíliya."

Almost before the words had fully left Fíliya's mouth, Linie shot to her feet.

"Oh? Linie volunteering for the front lines? That's a surprise. I appreciate the gesture — but I already have someone else in mind for that particular job. None of you have any assignments right now. Just stay close to me for the time being."

Hearing that, Linie obediently settled back into her seat.

The atmosphere at the table lapsed into silence in the wake of such a jarring revelation. It wasn't that no one had anything to say — it was that no one quite knew what the right thing to say even was.

"Mm... actually, there's something I've been curious about for a while."

It took Fíliya breaking the silence herself to dissolve the awkward stillness.

"Hm? What is it?"

For some reason, whenever Fíliya was the one to speak first, Solitär felt her own mood lift alongside it.

"What does human flesh actually taste like — to the Demon Race?"

"—!"

It wasn't just Solitär — even Aura and Tot went momentarily rigid with shock.

"Mm. If I want to eradicate the Demon Race's cannibalistic nature, I'd need to understand why human flesh is so irresistible to them first, wouldn't I? And the best way to understand that... is to eat some."

Fíliya's tone was completely matter-of-fact, as though she saw nothing unusual about any of this.

"I understand your reasoning... Would you like me to find some human remains for you? Near cemeteries or battlefields, there should be quite a few unclaimed bodies."

"Mm. If I'm going to eat, I'd prefer something fresh."

Fíliya's words left Solitär briefly stunned. She didn't believe for a second that Fíliya would willingly eat a living person.

Sure enough, Fíliya followed up immediately.

"But I suppose that's out of the question for now... What a shame I didn't set aside a small piece of myself back when I was still human — that would've unlocked the [I Eat Myself] achievement, at least."

As she said it, Fíliya made the deliberate effort to squeeze out a small smile in Solitär's direction.

Solitär could only sigh.

She understood now — Fíliya was suffering with every passing second, and yet she was still going out of her way to piece together terrible little jokes, just to put her at ease.

"I'll go find you a corpse."

"No need. I'll find one myself."

Fíliya stopped her again.

This left Solitär mildly perplexed.

She genuinely couldn't work out why Fíliya had taken to stopping her so often lately — particularly whenever she was about to leave the Demon King's Castle.

"Aren't you worried your movements will attract Serie's attention?"

"Of course not. Sustaining Mana Detection across such a vast range is exhausting — once she's confirmed there's nothing she can do about me, she won't bother keeping it active day after day out of sheer boredom. And even if she is that bored, I don't particularly mind. It just means I'd get to play with her for a little while."

With that, Fíliya vanished from the room in an instant.

Before Solitär had even a moment to process it, Fíliya reappeared — cradling the body of a young woman in her arms.

"A girl who fell on the Southern Nations' battlefield. There were plenty of other mangled bodies nearby besides her — she was one of the more intact ones."

Fíliya offered the brief explanation in a flat, neutral voice, then set the unknown girl's body directly onto the dining table.

"When you used to eat humans — how did you go about it?"

In that moment, Fíliya looked exactly like an eager student, asking the group with complete sincerity about the procedure of cannibalism.

"..."

Solitär, Aura, and Linie clearly had no desire whatsoever to revisit those memories.

Only Tot assumed a thoughtful expression — then slowly replied.

"Generally... you'd start from the arm. Personally speaking."

"Is that so."

Fíliya gave a small nod, then slowly opened her mouth — and gently bit into the corpse's forearm, tearing away a small strip of flesh.

After a brief moment of chewing, she immediately spat the fragment out, then incinerated the remnants with fire magic.

"I see..."

She quickly took the tissue Solitär held out and wiped her mouth.

This was the first time she had truly grasped just how... mm. Palatable humans apparently were to the Demon Race.

The body had been dead for a full day — already faintly beginning to decay — and yet there had been no foul odor whatsoever.

And even though it was raw flesh, chewing it had carried the texture of cooked meat. Well-prepared cooked meat, even.

No wonder the instinct to consume humans was carved into the very soul of the Demon Race. Humans truly were exceptional prey for them.

But knowing that was enough.

Fíliya had already worked out how she intended to eradicate this deep-rooted affliction in the Demon Race.

And what came next was quite simple.

"Would you like me to bury her?"

Seeing the contemplative look on Fíliya's face, Solitär stepped forward once again, wanting to do something to help.

"Mm... why would I bury her?"

Fíliya turned the question back at her.

"?"

Solitär tilted her head, puzzled.

"She's only been dead for a day — the soul should be easy enough to call back. She might not even have reached [Aureole] yet... So I've decided to resurrect her. I did do something rather unpleasant to her body, after all — consider it a small form of compensation. I'll bring her back first, then ask what she wants. If she wishes to return to the human world, that's perfectly fine."

"But if she's willing to stay... wouldn't that make her our very first [citizen]?"

A small smile returned to the corner of Fíliya's mouth as she said it.

"Rivale really does get things done efficiently."

Fíliya stood by the window, gazing out toward some distant point on the horizon.

Solitär heard the seemingly unprompted remark — and understood it immediately.

After all, the current Fíliya possessed the ability to pinpoint the location of every single member of the Demon Race. So she had undoubtedly witnessed it herself: the lower-ranked demons who had initially dismissed her orders were now converging on the Far North at a frantic pace.

"Though the population losses are a bit steep. Are the demons really so unruly that this many had to be killed just to set an example?"

Fíliya continued murmuring to herself — because within her perception, the Demon Race's already dwindling numbers had dropped by nearly a hundred in the span of just a few short days.

And every single one of those deaths was clearly Rivale's handiwork.

"So many demons have died? That's genuinely surprising. When a powerful demon moves against lower-ranked ones, the lower-ranked should immediately enter submission mode — the survival instinct is the most fundamental drive of the Demon Race."

"Mm... who knows. We can ask him about it when he gets back."

Fíliya said it offhandedly.

"Can't you communicate with demons directly, regardless of distance?"

Solitär pressed.

"Mm... since I've already decided to leave this matter in his hands, it's best not to interfere with his judgment. Losing nearly a hundred demons is still within an acceptable range for now. Let's leave it at that."

As she spoke, Fíliya's tone gradually settled into something languid and unhurried. She turned her head and looked over at Solitär.

"What about the human we resurrected — has she gotten a grasp on the situation?"

"Yes, she just managed to calm down from the initial shock... When I told her she was in the Demon King's Castle, the poor thing nearly frightened herself into trying to die all over again."

Solitär's tone carried zero warmth when speaking of the human Fíliya had unexpectedly brought back.

"Is that so. She's that timid... So what's her situation now? Is she planning to leave?"

"She said her name is Amy. She has no family and no friends in the human world — she died alone on the battlefield."

"Is that so? No ties, no roots, completely alone in the world — not bad at all. She sounds like exactly the sort of person suited to be reborn as a member of the Demon Race."

"On that point... she's asked for a little more time to think it over."

Solitär delivered the line without a trace of emotion, because from her perspective, this human was simply ungrateful — to have received such a grace from Fíliya, and to still have the audacity to say something like let me think about it. As if she had any standing to be picky.

"Time? That's fine. The one thing we have absolutely no shortage of right now is time, isn't it?"

Sensing Solitär's quiet irritation, Fíliya offered a small word of comfort.

"In any case — for now, have that girl help you with your work. Put her through her paces properly, all right?"

"You don't need to tell me that."

Solitär said it with mild exasperation — but then, as if something had just occurred to her, her gaze drifted back to Fíliya, carrying a faint shade of suspicion.

"Hm?"

Fíliya was puzzled by the sudden scrutiny.

"I just thought of something... Out of all those human corpses, why did you specifically choose that particular girl?"

"I mentioned it before — her body was the most intact. The others had all been blown to pieces."

"Is that so. No other reason? Something personal, perhaps?"

"Well — there is one thing. You see, that girl has green hair, just like us... That was actually the reason I noticed her in the first place."

"Tch... I knew it."

Solitär let out an audible click of her tongue.

"Aren't you going to push further?"

"Given that you were actually honest about it, I'll let it go this time."

"How gracious of you."

Fíliya smiled and gave a small nod, then turned to look toward the door.

Almost the very instant she turned, the door was being gently pushed open.

"My Lord Demon King — you called for me?"

There was currently only one person in this castle who would use that particular form of address.

"Yes, Tot — come here."

Fíliya beckoned her over. Tot obediently drew closer.

"Mm. In order to reform the Demon Race's habit of eating humans, I think I'll be needing your ability."

Fíliya came straight to the point — but Tot was clearly the slower type, and she didn't quite follow what Fíliya meant.

"Your magic is a spreading virus, isn't it... I think it has real potential. Beyond simply being used to kill, it seems like it could also be used to alter organisms... Solitär, do you remember those days by the sea when we used to talk about biology?"

As she spoke, Fíliya gestured for Solitär to join the conversation.

"Of course I remember... You mean... you want to use Tot's magic to artificially modify the behavioral instincts of living creatures? Is something like that even possible?"

Solitär had the mind of a scholar, and she quickly caught up with where Fíliya was going.

"I don't see how. My magic only does one thing — it kills."

Tot tilted her head in puzzlement, not understanding at all what the two of them were getting at.

"That's only what you think. What heights your magic can reach is not yours to decide."

Fíliya rebutted her with a light laugh, then continued.

"Now then — let me experience your magic firsthand."

"Hm?"

Tot blinked blankly and didn't move.

"I mean — apply the virus to me."

Fíliya could only add the clarification with a resigned sigh, privately thinking that having subordinates this dense was a remarkably draining experience.

Tot finally understood what Fíliya intended — but her expression still carried a trace of hesitation.

"My magic's effects are severe. If My Lord Demon King wishes to experience it, you should be prepared to endure considerable pain."

"That's nothing. Go ahead — you know I possess [Immortality]."

Fíliya's expression remained perfectly relaxed. After all — the current her was probably the single most pain-tolerant individual in the entire world.

"Understood."

Tot drew a slow breath, stepped forward half a pace, and pressed her palm flat against Fíliya's chest.

"Don't hold back for my sake. Put more in."

Fíliya reminded her once more.

"Mm."

This time, Tot said nothing further — she simply gave a quiet, obedient nod.

And then she channeled her Spreading Virus Magic directly into Fíliya's body.

"It seems... like I don't feel anything?"

In that first instant, Fíliya noticed nothing wrong whatsoever.

But on the second blink of her eyes, her entire body flooded with a deep crimson-violet — and then she pitched face-first to the floor.

"Wh — what is this?!"

Solitär went pale with shock, because she was already watching it happen: Fíliya's flesh was rotting at a terrifying speed, as though it were melting. In the span of a single breath, her hands and feet had come apart at the joints, her fingernails sloughed away, and even her hair — once smooth and lustrous — went brittle as dead straw in an instant.

Fíliya's eyes slid clean out of their sockets and shattered against the floor.

The presence of life vanished from her entirely — leaving behind nothing but a heap of rotting, formless decay.

"——Tot!"

Solitär seized Tot by the collar, demanding answers with barely concealed panic.

"How much did you put in?"

Faced with Solitär's tone that could have stripped paint off the walls, Tot's expression was one of pure, uncomprehending blankness — she had simply done exactly what the Demon King had told her to, so she genuinely couldn't fathom why she was being yelled at.

She opened her mouth with a hint of innocence.

"Because My Lord Demon King said to put in a lot at once... I injected enough to dissolve ten thousand people."

Solitär was momentarily at a loss for words.

In that instant, rather than waste energy arguing with this dense creature about matters of scale, she found her attention being forcibly pulled somewhere else entirely.

"You're going to be all right... aren't you?"

She stared at the puddle of rot emanating a nauseating stench, her voice tight with urgency.

In that moment, all she could do was place her hopes in the possibility that Fíliya's [Immortality] was truly strong enough.

And before long — as if in answer to that hope — the mess on the floor finally began to change.

It was like watching time flow in reverse. Fíliya's body rapidly reconstituted itself from the decayed heap — not just her flesh renewed, but even the clothes that had been eaten away were completely restored.

The moment she was whole again, Solitär immediately fussed over her like a worried mother, circling around Fíliya and checking her over again and again.

"?"

Fíliya found Solitär's behavior rather baffling. She had said there would be no problem, hadn't she — so why was Solitär still this worked up? Honestly.

She paid Solitär no further mind and looked directly at Tot.

"Mm... now that is interesting. The humans are probably racking their brains day and night trying to find a way to break through my Immortality — and here I happen to have someone who can do exactly that right beside me."

Fíliya laughed it off with a deliberately light air — while at the same time acknowledging, without reservation, the sheer power of Tot's magic.

"To think it could temporarily suppress my Immortality... So it seems that as long as you inject a large enough dose at once, or have Tot [seal] me — continuously feeding me this virus without ever stopping — you could actually lock down my movements. How fascinating."

"Mm... making Tot lift the curse she'd cast over the entire world really was the right call... Something this terrifying, if it were ever unleashed upon the human world, would become a literal [annihilation of all living things]. Conservatively, it would cause casualties in the tens of millions. Truly worthy of being called the Demon Race's [last trump card]."

Fíliya showed not the slightest distress over what she had just endured — instead, she analyzed with keen interest precisely how Tot's magic might be used to restrain herself.

"That wouldn't work... The speed at which my virus generates would quickly fall behind the speed at which My Lord Demon King regenerates."

Tot shook her head at Fíliya's conclusion, unconvinced that she could actually [seal] Fíliya's movements the way Fíliya had described.

"You... can't you have even a little regard for your own body? Is [Immortality] just something you use to torture yourself?"

Solitär looked at Fíliya and felt a rising wave of exasperation.

"Mm... not really. Physical pain like this doesn't amount to anything."

Fíliya gave a casual shrug. Pain of the flesh was no different from a tickle to her now.

After all, she endured something a thousand times more terrible every moment of every day — the chaos churning inside her mind.

What tormented her consciousness without pause, without respite — that was true pain. And it wasn't something that could be silenced by simply switching off the ability to feel.

"..."

Seeing her like this, Solitär could only let out a helpless sigh and say nothing more.

"All right — I've gotten a rough idea of things, and I've confirmed that Tot's magic can help me reshape the Demon Race. That's quite a worthwhile result, isn't it."

Fíliya placed a hand on Solitär's shoulder. She could at least tell that Solitär was upset, and this was the only comfort she could offer.

"Reshaping the Demon Race..."

Solitär murmured the words softly to herself, and felt a quiet, bittersweet ache settle in her chest.

That promise from back then — the one that had seemed like a joke — this girl had remembered it all along. And now, step by step, she was turning it into reality.

"Rivale is herding those demons back to the Demon King's Castle... he'll inevitably run into the defensive line the humans have set up, won't he? What are you planning to do about that."

"A defensive line?"

Fíliya grinned, as if she'd just heard the most absurd turn of phrase.

"Don't worry. I've already arranged for someone to take care of dismantling it."

Solitär was immediately puzzled.

After all, she had already confirmed that both Aura and Linie were still inside the Demon King's Castle — and Tot, needless to say, was also right here. And Rivale's task was not to destroy the humans' containment line.

Then... just who was Fíliya's so-called [someone]?

"Mm... while all of you were resting, I did get around to taking care of a few things."

Fíliya's expression turned suddenly and delightfully cryptic — which only piqued Solitär's curiosity further.

―――

Along the Empire's border near the Far North, a [Coalition Force] led by several hundred mages had formed layer upon layer of defensive lines.

Every individual stationed here had been carefully selected — people of unshakeable conviction.

And it wasn't only mages — tens of thousands of Imperial troops were also posted here in a joint defense.

"What an overwhelming display... Everyone gathered here must be the elites of both the Magic Association and the Imperial Army..."

Stark gazed out at the sea of people stretching beyond the horizon and swallowed involuntarily.

"After all, the Empire has now reached the most dangerous precipice."

Frieren looked out at the same sea of people and raised an eyebrow.

"The Empire is the nation closest to the Demon King's Castle... and it's also the nation with the deepest magical culture and the greatest magical power. In other words," Fern said, her voice trailing off somewhat.

"Yes — in other words, the Empire is also the greatest victim of all. Most of its common citizens possess apprentice-level magical ability... which means the vast majority of the Empire's civilian population would have been able to hear Fíliya's voice back then. On the other hand, the Empire is also the nation on the continent that harbors the deepest hatred toward the Demon Race — so even after suffering that kind of bewitchment, those with unshakeable conviction are far from few."

Frieren completed the thought for her apprentice.

"Mm... we'll be able to pass through the defensive line and reach the Empire's Royal Capital soon. I heard that Lady Serie has also established a branch here in the Empire, and many First-Class Mages have made their way to the Imperial branch, ready to face the crisis together."

While the three of them were talking, a group of soldiers in the not-so-far distance escorted an elderly woman in military uniform as she slowly approached.

"Frieren — I've been waiting for you. But at the moment there's quite a troublesome problem, and I may need you and your companions to help."

The commander stationed on this frontline closest to the Far North turned out to be someone they knew.

The former [Captain of the Mage Special Operations Unit] — Fres.

"Is that so. I did sense something was off..."

Frieren nodded, and at the same time felt a sense of foreboding rising in her chest. That sudden, irregular flutter of her heartbeat was something that rarely happened to her.

"Yes — an unidentified warrior has already breached the outermost layer of the defensive line. No other information is clear at this point."

"An unidentified warrior?"

Frieren furrowed her brow again.

A fighting force capable of breaking through the Imperial defensive line alone, coming from the direction of the Demon King's Castle — how could they possibly be unidentified? The only one who could pull off something like that was the Demon Race's God of War, Rivale.

"Is it a demon?"

She asked instinctively.

"According to the soldiers who sent back word, this warrior showed none of the physical traits of the Demon Race on their head... but as you well know, the Demon Race can no longer be identified by their horns alone anymore."

Fres's words made Frieren's chest tighten again.

What she was referring to was, of course, the magic Fíliya had developed — the one that concealed a demon's identity.

And yet Frieren somehow felt certain: if this was someone sent by Fíliya, they simply wouldn't use that magic. It wasn't that creature's style to bother hiding her identity — she was far too arrogant for that.

Which, in its own way, was a thoroughly demonic quality.

Then... just who was this figure assaulting the defensive line?

Frieren's mind churned with questions, but she accepted the mission from Fres all the same.

Even she understood: this was not the time to dwell on old grievances. Whether the Magic Association or the Empire — every ounce of strength had to be poured into the fight against that creature.

To reach the scene as quickly as possible, Frieren had pushed her speed to its absolute limit — leaving both Fern and Stark far behind in her wake.

The enemy was a warrior, so tracking by mana alone wouldn't work. But that was no real obstacle. All she needed was to lock onto the other mages and the chaotic surge of mana rippling across the battlefield, and she could pinpoint her target.

When she finally arrived, she took in the surrounding walls and structures — battered and broken beyond recognition — and couldn't help but furrow her brow.

What a mess... But what are the casualties like?

A strange sense of wrongness welled up inside her.

She caught it in an instant.

The buildings, the walls, the distant treeline — all of it had been reduced to rubble. And yet... something was missing.

The smell of blood.

Right. There were none of the gruesome casualties she'd been bracing herself for.

People lay scattered everywhere in all directions — but even from a distance, Frieren could tell clearly: they'd simply been knocked unconscious. Their lives were in no danger.

The enemy was that considerate?

She set the question aside for now. Frieren fixed her gaze on a distant silhouette and, without hesitation, launched several Ordinary Attack Magic spells toward it.

The figure — draped head-to-toe in black robes — whipped around in an instant, then cleaved through every incoming spell with a single sweep of their blade.

"Just who is...?"

Frieren stared at the sight, genuinely baffled.

Ordinary Attack Magic was the fastest-casting magic there was. At this range, to react instantaneously — and not just react, but turn around first and then split the spells apart with a sword — the level of skill that required... she genuinely couldn't think of anyone who could match it.

Unless...

The thought surfaced, and Frieren unconsciously bit down on her lip. She narrowed her eyes, searching the figure's body for any clue she could find.

But the entire body was wrapped in black robes, and a visor concealed the face entirely.

Can't identify them by build or appearance, then...

Frieren immediately shifted her gaze elsewhere.

...Right. Isn't it already obvious? Or have I just been lying to myself all along — refusing to face it?

She let out a quiet sigh, because she could no longer ignore the sky-blue strands of hair spilling down from the edge of that visor.

"Him... mel?"

Her mind still refused to accept it — but Frieren called out the name anyway, her voice tentative.

The answer she received was a slash of terrifying speed.

Fast...

Frieren hastily threw up a defensive magic barrier — but it only held for a moment before the strike tore clean through it.

She replenished and reinforced her Defensive Magic in the same breath and struck back.

After that brief exchange...

"Strange..."

Frieren murmured to herself.

Because she felt nothing — no sense whatsoever that she was fighting something alive.

The figure on the other end had absolutely zero emotional response. It was like... a golem executing a fixed set of commands.

Tch...

Frieren clicked her tongue in frustration.

The warrior across from her was relentlessly precise, and to make matters worse — every clever trick in her magical arsenal had always worked poorly against this particular opponent, even back in the day.

As she probed further, Frieren gradually noticed something off.

Specifically — the enemy's strikes looked aimed for vital points, but in reality, every single blow was subtly pulling its punch.

She hadn't believed it at first, but on the last exchange she'd deliberately left an opening wide enough for the warrior to capitalize on — and the warrior hadn't drawn so much as a scratch on her.

That confirmed it.

"Who are you? What is the meaning of this... If you're not here to kill, then turn around and leave. Now."

Frieren called out to the figure ahead, brow furrowed, voice sharp with anger.

The visored man heard her voice — and the sword in his hand slowly lowered. He seemed to be thinking. Or perhaps hesitating. But the visor made it impossible for Frieren to read anything from his expression.

Just as Frieren thought she might be able to open a line of dialogue — the enemy had already snapped his sword back into an attacking stance.

Tch...

Frieren was no stranger to battle, and she matched his movement immediately.

But it didn't take long before she realized things were turning bad.

She was being pushed into a losing position far too quickly — and that was with the enemy deliberately holding back.

Right... how had it taken her this long to see it?

The reason she'd ever managed to go thirty-seventy, or even forty-sixty against Himmel back in the day was simply because Himmel could never bring himself to fight her at full strength.

But the moment Himmel became a weapon stripped of all emotion... the gap between them collapsed into exactly what it was now.

Another flash of steel — it punched through her Defensive Magic and sheared off several strands of Frieren's hair.

This can't go on...

Tension gripped her. Himmel's movements were too fast — so fast that she couldn't carve out even a sliver of breathing room to draw on her trump card.

Tch... So this is what it means to be cornered by a warrior — and not just any warrior, but one at Himmel's level. Frieren had to admit: she'd made a mistake.

That one split-second lapse in focus had cost her any chance of putting distance between them, and what had been a close fight collapsed into something that was looking very much like a rout.

But Frieren was nowhere near despair — because this fight had never been a one-on-one to begin with.

A thunderous crack rang out.

A concentrated, severalfold-amplified Ordinary Attack Magic shot right past Frieren's ear and drove straight for the enemy's face.

Well done... Fern.

Frieren's instinct was to cheer for her apprentice — but as she tracked the path of that attack, her chest clenched.

Because that ambush, launched from Fern's hidden position at full force, had been aimed to shatter the enemy's skull outright.

But of course — as a hero returned from the underworld, Himmel's battle instincts had already sensed the girl's approach. With a single, casual tilt of his head, he sidestepped the ambush Fern had spent so long building up, as though it were nothing at all.

That said, calling Fern's attack entirely worthless would be inaccurate — because at the very least... Fern had succeeded in knocking the visor clean off the enemy's face.

And that familiar face was finally exposed before Frieren's eyes.

The upturned corners of eyes so accustomed to smiling. The fine, delicate brows. The teardrop mole at the corner of his eye.

She'd had a feeling. She'd known. And yet — the moment she actually saw it confirmed, Frieren still couldn't help losing herself for just an instant.

There was no mistaking it. The person before her was unmistakably Himmel... So why were his eyes so utterly hollow?

Fíliya's doing, obviously — but what method had she used?

Frieren's mind raced in that instant, turning over several possibilities — only to dismiss each one herself.

Because Himmel's magic resistance was even greater than her own. Back in the illusion of Miracle Grahte, she had nearly given up fighting back entirely — and yet this man had managed to strike at his enemies while trapped in a hallucination, guided by nothing more than the rustle of fabric and a formless instinct.

How on earth had Fíliya resurrected a Himmel like that... and then brought him under her control?

It was beyond comprehension.

But none of that mattered right now. In this moment, Frieren felt the weight of something she simply had to do.

For now... I'll deal with getting Himmel back first.

The instant the visor clattered to the ground, Himmel locked onto the angle where Fern was hiding.

Watching Himmel move to close in on Fern's position, Frieren reacted without hesitation. A relentless barrage of spells successfully drew Himmel's attention back to her. She had already confirmed it earlier — this Himmel's swordsmanship would hold back at the critical moment. Even so, Frieren wasn't willing to gamble on it.

She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Fern. That meant keeping Himmel pinned down herself, no matter what.

Just then, a red figure finally arrived on the battlefield.

"Sorry... Frieren, I'm late... Look, it's not like I can fly the way you mages can, so cut me some slack..."

The moment the red-haired young man leapt into the fray, he immediately swung his double-headed axe and deflected one of Himmel's attacks for Frieren.

"Not bad."

Frieren, witnessing this, offered Stark rare and unguarded praise.

"Naturally. That guy's sword hits like a damn wall — but I'm not who I used to be. I know who my enemy is now... To reach the level where I can fight him, I won't back down from any opponent!"

Stark declared it with absolute confidence — practically shouting it to the sky.

"Is that so... You really should be proud of yourself, Stark. What you just deflected — that was Himmel's sword."

For once, Frieren actually agreed with Stark's boast.

But in the very next instant, Stark's face went completely blank.

"Who?! You said who?!"

The color drained from Stark's face so completely that Frieren half-expected him to pass out on the spot.

"Wha — that's... Hi... Himmel... but the Hero, he's supposed to be..."

While Stark's mind was still reeling in chaos, Himmel's sword came swinging in again.

At that razor-thin instant, Stark's warrior instincts saved him. On pure reflex, he raised his axe and blocked Himmel's cleave — but the next second, the shockwave from Himmel's strike sent him flying a full ten meters away, his body carving a long furrow into the ground as he skidded to a halt.

"Honestly..."

Frieren let out a quiet, private sigh.

Sometimes she genuinely couldn't figure out what was going on with that red-haired kid. Without knowing who his opponent was, he'd pulled off a perfectly cool block. The moment he found out it was Himmel, his combat effectiveness seemed to drop by half on the spot. A guy with that small a spine was honestly useless.

That said — Stark's sudden entry had already taken a significant amount of pressure off her shoulders.

For one thing... she finally had a moment to breathe. She could pull back slightly, repositioning herself into the range where mages held the advantage.

"Stark! Get up, now! We have to subdue Himmel fast — if we don't, I'm going to die. You're going to die. And Fern... Fern is going to die too!"

As Frieren pulled back to create distance, she shouted in Stark's direction — because without a frontliner, even the small gap she'd just opened would be closed by Himmel in an instant.

So whether Stark was willing to fight or not, she had to get him moving.

"Fern — is going to die?!"

Frieren's words hit their mark. Stark hadn't fully processed the situation yet — but those four words were enough to trigger something fundamental in him.

His strength had never really been in question. He was the kind of man who had slain a Dragon alone, and the disciple of Eisen — the greatest human warrior alive. His problem had always been temperament, not ability.

"I'm going all in!"

Stark let out a shout and launched himself straight at Himmel.

This was when Stark's other great quality came into play — his ability to take a beating.

In just the span of two or three exchanges, his clothes had been shredded to ribbons by Himmel's blade, and no small number of cuts marked his body to match.

But injuries like that weren't enough to slow Stark down. He knew his job: hold the front line, absorb the pressure, and give Frieren and Fern the space to attack freely.

"Something's off... this hero's strikes are clearly being aimed away from vital points. Does he actually want to fight or not?"

Stark frowned, turning it over in his head. He'd already taken plenty of hits — but he also knew perfectly well that if the man across from him were truly going for the kill, Stark's tendons would have been severed long ago.

"It's not working... Himmel is too fast. I can't lock onto that move."

Frieren had not been idle either — but watching Himmel's impossibly swift movements, she found herself struggling, weighed down by a creeping guilt that she was squandering the opportunities Stark was laying out for her. It made her anxious in a way she rarely was.

"So then... what's needed is something that can pin down Lord Himmel's feet, is it."

An unexpected voice entered the battle.

Frieren startled and looked back.

The fighting had been so relentlessly intense that even she hadn't noticed the old man slipping in.

"Lernen?"

Frieren was genuinely surprised to see reinforcements appearing now of all times.

"Lady Serie said something unexpected might occur here, and asked me to come take a look."

Lernen was standing on high ground — and beneath his feet stood a combat golem, easily twenty meters tall.

"Serie sent you..."

Frieren's brow furrowed slightly. Had Serie known all along that Himmel would appear here?

No — that was impossible. Serie's detection range simply extended far enough; she wasn't omniscient. The nature of her mana perception was no different from any ordinary mage's.

Serie, like Frieren herself, had no way to detect Himmel's presence — because Himmel wasn't using mana.

She'd probably just sensed the disturbance at the front line and dispatched someone to investigate.

Frieren quickly talked herself down, then called out to Lernen in a few clipped words.

"Help me keep Himmel occupied — and I'll be able to set up the binding magic."

Lernen gave an understanding nod, though a helpless smile flickered across his face for just a moment.

"Didn't expect to cross paths with a legend like this... I wonder if this child can hold up."

Lernen was sharp enough to know this wasn't the time for questions like why is the dead Hero standing right here — he dropped straight into combat mode.

The "child" he referred to wasn't Stark. It was the enormous golem beneath him.

"Hah... saved..."

With the combat golem now in the mix, the burden on Stark eased considerably.

As Serie's personally instructed disciple, Lernen's golem embodied the highest accumulated wisdom of the Continental Magic Association. Despite its enormous frame, it moved fast enough to keep pace with Himmel.

Finally — after a grinding war of attrition, with three mages wearing him down from range and Stark and the combat golem holding him in close — the Hero Himmel at last began to show signs of faltering.

Watching Himmel's speed start to drop, Frieren felt a surge of hope in her chest.

After all, the last time she had seen Himmel looking this spent and pushed to his limits — was during the battle against the Demon King.

"It's time."

Frieren said the words, and her small frame suddenly blazed with a sharp, focused intensity. A hundred meters away, Himmel — at last, in that very instant — was pressed flat to the ground by an invisible, crushing force that Frieren had released.

"It looks like it worked, Miss Frieren."

Seeing Frieren's magic take effect, Fern immediately returned to her side.

"Mm. Still, let's be careful."

Frieren murmured in reply, then led Fern and First-Class Mage Lernen toward where Himmel lay.

"That's strange... he just went completely still."

As Frieren's group approached, Stark scratched the back of his head in puzzlement.

"Hm?"

Frieren furrowed her brow slightly.

The suppressive force of that spell was certainly powerful — but given Himmel's physical constitution, it shouldn't have been enough to knock him unconscious.

Even so, whatever her private doubts, Frieren was ultimately relieved.

Out cold was fine. Better that way... she didn't know what she'd even say to him if she had to face him right now.

Pushing that thought aside, Frieren immediately condensed her mana into glowing amber-tinted ropes and bound Himmel up securely.

In truth, these bindings wouldn't hold for long — the moment Himmel woke, he'd break free in an instant.

But at least before he did, Frieren would be able to sense it the moment he stirred.

As she finished tying him, she also infused a trace of mana into Himmel's body for diagnostic purposes. After examining him carefully for some time, she finally spoke.

"Himmel appears to be under the influence of a highly complex form of Mind Control Magic. I don't have any leads at the moment... My suggestion is to bring him back to the Magic Association first."

"Oh? Mind control, is it... Yes, that works. As it happens, we have quite the specialist on that subject at the Association."

Lernen stroked his beard thoughtfully at her words.

"A specialist... You mean First-Class Mage Edel?"

"That's right. That girl has come to the Imperial branch as well. If it's Mind Control Magic, she'll certainly be of use — when it comes to mental magic alone, she's already reached an unparalleled level of mastery."

"Mm, that I can believe."

Frieren gave a small nod, her thoughts drifting unbidden back to those days in the Golden Land.

It was precisely because of Edel's cooperation that they had been able to steal centuries' worth of memories from a high-ranking demon.

"In that case, let's head back quickly."

As he spoke, Lernen called his golem back to him, then used magic to mend the various cracks and battle damage it had sustained.

"Lernen, I didn't expect you to have a trick like that up your sleeve... This is the first time I've seen a mage who specializes in autonomous golems."

Watching this elderly human at work, Frieren found herself genuinely curious — and offered the compliment almost without thinking.

Lernen's own combat ability was already among the finest of the First-Class Mages. And on top of that, he had this mobile golem capable of blocking a strike from the Hero Himmel himself.

The old man's total combat power was frankly equivalent to three or four First-Class Mages combined.

"You flatter me... Truth be told, this 'child' of mine only reached its current form thanks to that girl Fíliya."

"Oh?"

The moment Lernen mentioned Fíliya's name, everyone present perked up at once.

"Yes. It was some time before the First-Class Mage examination — I suddenly received a gift from Fíliya. It was a collection of golem constructs from many years in the past. I took them apart and studied them carefully, and I can say without reservation that I learned an enormous amount."

"Is that so... May I ask what those golems looked like?"

Something had sparked in Frieren's mind, and she found herself asking before she'd even consciously decided to.

"Hmm... They were a group of golems resembling both lizards and serpents — though strictly speaking, they looked more like great snakes with several pairs of forelegs. And at the top of their heads was a single-eye structure, with the eye itself formed from a gemstone engraved with intricate inscriptions."

...Just as I thought.

Frieren had her answer before he'd even finished.

Those were Flamme's creations, weren't they... Back then, she had even mocked Flamme's golems as useless. And yet here they were, a thousand years later, not only still relevant but still capable of inspiring mages who came after.

"Lernen... you called him Himmel by name, just now. I didn't mishear that, did I?"

Frieren turned to Lernen with another curious question.

"Mm."

Lernen gave a calm nod.

"Is there something wrong with that? Statues of the Hero Himmel are erected all across the continent — the moment I laid eyes on him, I recognized him as Lord Himmel immediately. That shouldn't be so strange, should it?"

"Well, that's true... but statues and the real person always have their differences. The fact that you recognized him in the very instant you arrived... honestly, I'm still a little impressed."

"Is that so... Then think of it this way — a man of my age has been looking up at the Hero's radiance since he was young enough to be filled with wonder at it."

"I see..."

Frieren gave a thoughtful nod at that, then — cradling the bound Himmel in a princess carry — held him close against her chest.

Mages in this world were hardly the frail, bookish type. Even a mage like Frieren, traditionally a ranged artillery caster, had more than enough physical strength in her arms.

Besides, Himmel wasn't heavy. Carrying him like this, Frieren felt no strain whatsoever.

"Aren't you curious, Lernen?"

Frieren's voice dropped to a murmur. What she was asking about, naturally, was the matter of Himmel's resurrection.

"Mm... it is certainly a bewildering thing. But then again — we've already watched a little human girl transform into a member of the Demon Race in broad daylight and declare herself the Demon King. At this point, I don't think anything that happens would surprise me all that much."

Lernen's tone was remarkably composed.

"Fair enough... Let's go."

Frieren nodded in agreement, then called to Fern and Stark behind her and urged them to get moving.

Though it was quite clear that both of them were still brimming with unanswered questions.

"Why is Frieren carrying the Hero like that? You mages can levitate things with your mana, can't you... isn't it exhausting to carry a whole person around... couldn't she just float him through the air and be done with it?"

Stark leaned close to Fern's ear and whispered the question.

"Idiot."

Fern's only response was a single, merciless word of dismissal.

And then, immediately after, a look crept into her eyes — the unmistakable gleam of someone who had just caught a very juicy piece of gossip.

Because... Miss Frieren had never once told her.

That this was how she felt about the Hero.

"Miss Frieren, Fern, and Lord Stark — if you don't mind, you're all welcome to ride along. You expended a great deal in that battle just now, so why not conserve your mana for the time being?"

Lernen called out the invitation from atop his mobile golem as it raced through the forest.

Frieren, who had chosen to carry Himmel and fly low through the air, felt a flicker of hesitation cross her face.

She knew Lernen wasn't wrong. And she was genuinely willing to conserve her mana.

It was just... if she climbed up onto the golem's back, she'd lose her excuse to keep holding... the person in her arms.