In the end, Frieren declined Lernen's offer and continued carrying Himmel in her arms, maintaining a low-altitude flight.
Fern followed close behind — and in Fern's hand was Stark's collar, which she had grabbed to drag him along through the air.
The group assumed they would reach the next defensive line without incident. But it wasn't long before another unexpected development brought everything to a halt.
"Something's wrong... wrong... how can this... the mana total..."
Frieren's expression clouded with unease. A surging, all-encompassing tide of mana had entered her perception range — and it was closing in fast.
The sheer volume of it was so terrifying that she instinctively wondered, for just a moment, whether Serie had appeared nearby. But she dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come.
Because... mana this dark and foreboding could only belong to the Demon Race.
Mana of this magnitude... surely it couldn't be... Fíliya?
Yes — this was power that dwarfed her own and surpassed any Greater Demon she had ever known. It seemed it could only belong to the one who now called herself the Demon King.
And yet, something felt off to Frieren.
If it really was Fíliya... then this speed of approach was far too slow. Fíliya was absolutely capable of appearing right in front of her in an instant.
So then — what on earth was going on?
Fortunately, Frieren's confusion was quickly answered.
"What's happening... it's... gone dark?"
Stark — still dangling from Fern's grip by his collar — stared at the dark mass spreading toward them from the distance, feeling strangely bewildered.
"No. Those aren't clouds."
Fern's expression snapped into sharp alertness. She instinctively looked to her teacher.
"Prepare for battle..."
It was the first time Frieren's voice had carried even the faintest tremor. She had never imagined that after everything she had just endured fighting Himmel, what awaited her next would be this — an enemy that blotted out the sky.
Is it because we're airborne...? There looked to be only about a thousand of them — but the killing intent radiating off that mass was suffocating, more overwhelming than ten thousand troops marching on the ground.
The dark horde of demons surged rapidly toward them.
Her mana reserves weren't empty — but surviving an engagement of this scale... she had already quietly begun to despair. And yet, her apprentice was right behind her. As the master, she could not afford to falter now.
"What terrible timing... Could it be that Lord Himmel was the bait all along? Since when did the Demon Race manage to muster a force like this? It would take every last demon on the continent combined to put together a spectacle like this..."
Lernen was frowning deeply. The moment he laid eyes on the horde, he had already made his peace with dying — he just wasn't sure whether throwing everything he had would be enough to carve an escape route for Frieren.
"Himmel destroys the defensive line from the outside, while this assembled force strikes from within... This was your plan all along, wasn't it, Fíliya."
Frieren murmured the words under her breath — then tightened her grip on her staff.
Strike first. Kill as many as possible.
With that thought, she began weaving together several spells whose destructive power far exceeded any ordinary attack magic.
"Frieren... wait — I think... we should land on the ground."
It was then that Fern called out and stopped her.
"What?"
Frieren stared at her apprentice in disbelief.
"Please trust me... I'm not sure why, but something tells me... these demons aren't coming for us. Look — at this distance, they could already launch an attack — and yet, not a single spell has come our way."
Fern's words were like a splash of cold water snapping someone awake.
Frieren's mind caught up immediately.
Right... something even Fern noticed... how did I miss it?
Is it because... I've been too focused on the person in my arms?
...Tch.
Frieren clicked her tongue in mild irritation, then immediately led everyone into a swift descent.
And just as Fern had said — the first wave of demons that arrived paid them absolutely no attention. Every single one of them was fixed on the same direction, pressing forward without pause, as if something dreadful were hunting them from behind.
Before long, the overwhelming dark mass — vast enough to eclipse the sky itself — had receded far beyond their sight.
In the end, not a single demon spared them so much as a glance.
"We... survived?"
It was only after the demon army had vanished into the distance that Stark finally let out a shaky breath.
"Embarrassing... I've heard Lady Frieren say that at the height of the Demon Race's power, there were hundreds of thousands of them — now that was a true demon army. And now they're this close to extinction, and you still got scared? Honestly, Stark."
Fern shot him a deeply withering look — but reached out anyway and gave the red-haired tomato a pat on the head as consolation.
"No... the real problem is still ahead."
Frieren's jaw was clenched tight, her gaze locked on something in the near distance.
The brief moment of relief evaporated instantly.
Lernen had already maneuvered his golem into a battle-ready stance, and Fern raised her staff without hesitation.
"..."
Finally, even Stark noticed it — the direction, the footsteps, and... the presence.
The Stark who had looked so rattled just moments ago now had eyes flooding with something savage. It looked as though he was one second away from raising his battle-axe and charging.
"Stay calm. Stark — we're too depleted. A confrontation right now would be the worst possible outcome."
Frieren knew what that presence meant to Stark, so she turned and made sure to remind him.
But Stark had a history, and all Frieren could do was pray he kept a grip on himself.
The figure finally stepped out of the treeline — it was Rivale, the War God of the Demon Race.
"Hmm? Long time no see, Frieren... Oh, and you too — the little girl who actually managed to hurt me. I remember you. Fern, wasn't it?"
Rivale wore a pleasant smile, his stride light and easy. If not for the demon horns crowning his head, someone might genuinely have mistaken him for an amiable older brother next door.
Frieren said nothing. She simply fixed him with a cold stare, settling into a stance of silent vigilance.
"Hmm? In the state you're in right now — do you really still want to fight me, Frieren? How much mana do you even have left? A third? A quarter? Less?"
Rivale stepped closer, studying Frieren's expression with undisguised interest.
Frieren still had no intention of engaging in conversation. As far as she was concerned, Rivale had come to retrieve Himmel — so the only question was: how was she going to keep the person in her arms safe under these circumstances?
"Hmm... how dull. You're no fun to talk to, Frieren. Forget it, then."
Finding no response from Frieren, Rivale shrugged off the awkwardness and simply walked past her.
...?!!
Frieren almost wondered if she had stumbled into some kind of illusion.
He just... walked right past her? Just like that? That easily?
He didn't come to fight?
Frieren forced herself to snap out of her bewilderment and immediately spun around to check on her apprentice.
With a powerful demon, you could never predict what they were after.
Sure enough — Frieren saw Rivale come to a stop directly in front of Stark and Fern.
"Hmm... nice eyes. A bit raw the last time we crossed paths, but now there's a proper edge to them. Give it a little more time, and you might just become a worthy warrior."
Rivale looked down at the pair of eyes burning with hatred for him, and found it thoroughly entertaining.
Stark's eyes blazed. His hands were white-knuckled around his double-bladed axe, as if he were one breath away from bringing it down on Rivale's skull.
But his reason held firm — neither he, nor Frieren, nor Fern had anything left for another battle.
If he moved now, there was only one outcome waiting for him: death.
"What exactly do you want?"
Fern immediately stepped between Rivale and Stark, spreading her arms wide to shield Stark behind her.
"I can see you have no intention of fighting... so please, leave."
Fern pressed on.
"Oh? Truly remarkable. I'm going to have to raise my opinion of you once again, Lady Fern. In human terms, a mage like you is the kind of once-in-a-generation genius that almost never appears. You're right — I have no intention of fighting any of you here. Frankly, it's a pity that you've all pushed yourselves to the limit like this."
"I'm simply passing through on my way to carry out the orders of Demon King Lady Fíliya. She's commanded me to drive every last surviving demon on the continent — like cattle — to the Demon King's Castle. Any demon slower than me along the way, I deal with on Her Majesty's behalf..."
"Well then — until next time, red. And Lady Fern — I sincerely look forward to the day you challenge me. Even two against one, don't feel the slightest bit of shame about it."
With that, Rivale let out a booming, uninhibited laugh — and vanished from their sight in an instant
Fern really is something else — standing before Rivale's pressure and never showing a single trace of fear."
Deep within the Demon King's Castle, Fíliya gazed toward the distant horizon and let out a genuinely impressed murmur.
She had shared the feed of events unfolding in the distance with the people beside her. As for how she could see any of it — naturally, it was because she had already placed her eye inside Frieren's arms.
"I'm not sure what you're so happy about... Didn't you just fail? The Hero you worked so hard to revive has ended up as a prisoner..."
Solitär stood at Fíliya's side, staring at her expression with open bewilderment.
"Fail? Not at all — things are going quite smoothly. I've already conveyed my intentions to the human side."
Fíliya gave a light laugh.
"Hm?"
Solitär didn't follow.
"They'll understand soon enough. Building a defensive line to stop the pilgrims is impossible — whenever I feel like it, I can tear through their defenses at will. So if they want to resolve the crisis I've brought them... there's only one path left."
"You mean... you want the humans to launch an assault on the Demon King's Castle?!"
Solitär was sharp enough to arrive at the answer immediately.
"Exactly."
"What on earth are you trying to do?!"
In that instant, Solitär felt a vague, inexplicable sense of dread. This woman was actually looking forward to the humans storming her gates — which could only mean...
"Hm? Do I look like the type with a death wish to you?"
Fíliya read the worry off Solitär's expression and immediately moved to put her at ease.
Solitär wasn't buying it.
"...A little."
Solitär fixed her with an unwavering stare. Had there not been others present, she would have already pinned this infuriating woman to the floor and demanded a straight answer.
"Ugh... honestly. Haven't you already witnessed my invincible immortality firsthand? Stop worrying yourself over nothing."
Fíliya regarded Solitär with a mildly exasperated look.
"Come on — our pack mule... ah, I mean, our distinguished guest should be arriving right about now. We ought to go greet him."
"...You're changing the subject."
"Think what you like."
Fíliya shrugged, then rose from the throne without ceremony.
"One last question then — why didn't you have Rivale take back the Hero? In the situation just now, he could have plucked the Hero's body right out of Frieren's arms without even trying."
Solitär fell in step with Fíliya immediately.
"Isn't it obvious...? How could a story about slaying the Demon King have the Hero missing from the finale?"
Fíliya turned her face to the side, gave Solitär a smile that was impossible to read, and said nothing more.
So she really did send the Hero over on purpose... and Flamme too — that great mage had voluntarily strengthened the enemy's forces. No matter how Solitär thought about it, she couldn't figure out what this woman was truly after.
Just as they were about to step out onto the terrace of the Demon King's Castle, Fíliya suddenly stopped.
"Hm... Solitär?"
Fíliya called her name in a low voice.
"What is it?"
Solitär looked at her with a soft gaze.
"Mm... you knew the previous Demon King, didn't you?"
"That's right."
Solitär answered quickly, though a new question was already taking shape in her mind. Why was Fíliya asking about this?
"I just suddenly realized... I don't really have any sense of 'dignity' about me. When the previous Demon King stood in a moment like this — what did it feel like for him?"
"...Is that what's on your mind. You don't need to concern yourself with how the previous one did things. You are the Demon King — not some 'Emperor,' not a 'Sovereign,' not a 'Wise King.' If you're the Demon King, then do as you please."
"I see. That's just like you — always the reliable thing to say. I feel much better now."
Fíliya gave a small nod, acknowledging Solitär's words.
"Mm... since I am the Demon King, then — would you be willing to become my... um—"
Fíliya started, then abruptly fumbled.
Solitär tilted her head slightly.
"I was going to say 'Sage,' but that title doesn't quite fit our Demon Race. So — 'Oracle' instead. Would you be willing to be my Oracle?"
Solitär blinked, caught off guard. And what had surprised her wasn't the position itself — it was the words Fíliya had used.
Our Demon Race. My Oracle.
For some reason, just hearing those words made something warm seep into Solitär's chest — like a sliver of sunlight finding its way through.
Deep down she was delighted, but Solitär kept her expression firmly composed, giving nothing away.
"Oracle... sounds like an exhausting position. I'll need to think it over carefully."
That was what Solitär said.
"Is that so... then I won't force you. Tot — could you be my Oracle?"
Fíliya gave a seemingly understanding nod, then turned with a blank expression toward Lady Tot on the other side.
"..."
Tot didn't dare make a sound. The dangerous look that Solitär had shot her — after only a moment's stunned pause — was more than enough to make sure she stayed out of it entirely.
...I can't afford to get on the bad side of the Solitär who cooks my meals.
Lady Tot was, after all, a creature exquisitely attuned to danger.
"I... am not suited for the role. The ideal candidate for 'Oracle,' I believe, would still be Solitär."
That was what Tot said.
"Is that so... I think the same. Solitär is the most intelligent of the Demon Race — well-versed in countless fields, even capable of mastering the crafts of humans. By any measure, she is perfectly suited to serve as 'Oracle'... and yet, it seems she's not particularly eager."
Fíliya said this, then lowered her head, her expression carrying a faint trace of disappointment.
"I'll do it."
Solitär immediately spoke up.
"?"
Fíliya spun around as though genuinely astonished.
"I said — I'll do it."
Solitär bit her lip lightly and repeated herself.
In that moment, she felt thoroughly mortified. She should have just said yes from the start — going through all this rigmarole had only left her standing in her own embarrassment.
"Is that so — then it's settled. My Oracle."
The moment Solitär agreed, Fíliya turned back and answered her with a smile. This time, she kept herself from saying anything teasing that might send the young lady spiraling further into flustered indignation.
"What about me?! What about me?!"
Just then, a lively figure suddenly pressed up to Fíliya's side.
"Aura — are you dissatisfied with your current position? Isn't being one of the Seven Sages of Destruction perfectly fine?"
Fíliya looked into the other's eyes.
"Tch — there aren't even Seven Sages anymore. It's a title that's lost all meaning. I want a new one too."
Aura the Guillotine looked at Fíliya with complete sincerity.
"Is that so..."
Fíliya gave a small nod, thought for a moment, and then spoke.
"Then — how does 'Strategist' sound?"
Before Aura could even react to that, Solitär was already jolted visibly.
[What are you doing? Making Aura the Strategist? Are you serious?!]
Solitär's expression laid her thoughts completely bare.
[It's not like I'd actually ask her anything — I'll be making every decision myself regardless. What's wrong with giving her the title of Strategist just to make her happy?]
Fíliya ended the brief private exchange with Solitär through an encrypted channel, and that was that.