Chapter 8 – Impossible!
"I see now… so that's how it is…"
Flamme's hands trembled with barely contained emotion. Just moments ago, she had uncovered what she believed to be the shocking truth about the great demon Elias.
A depraved demon who had hidden among humans for a thousand years—
Using obscene transformation magic to alter not only his appearance, but even his gender, just to deceive mankind.
And those two "companions" of his, depicted beside him on that grotesque statue—one a brutish bald man, the other a smug-looking dwarf—they looked every bit the villain's accomplices!
Were they lurking somewhere nearby, watching her in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
"Lady Mage," the village chief's voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, "you've been standing there for five minutes now. Surely, casting a simple Restoration Spell is nothing difficult for someone of your skill?"
Flamme swallowed her frustration, forcing herself to focus.
"…Of course. Let's get this over with."
She raised her hand, gathering mana—
——
BOOOOM!!!
A deafening explosion shattered the quiet air, echoing through the entire valley!
The chief nearly fell to his knees, clutching his walking stick in terror.
"Wh-what was that sound?! Did you… did you miscast the spell?!"
"…No," Flamme said in a low voice, staring toward the sky.
A colossal dome of golden light had descended, enveloping the entire village.
"Golden… bell-shaped…"
Her eyes widened. "That's his defensive magic!"
"No, wait—this scale… it's not a simple barrier—it's a grand defensive ward! A full-scale enchantment!"
Her thoughts raced.
Why would he cast something that massive?
There were no enemies nearby, no threat in sight… what was he planning?
"No…" she muttered, fists tightening. "I can't just sit here and wait."
——
Meanwhile, far above, atop the mountain cliff—
Solithiel tilted her head slightly, disappointment flickering behind her ever-present smile.
"Oh my… Lord Elias, you're so cold. I only wanted to learn more about humans, just like you. Can't you indulge my curiosity a little?"
Elias regarded her out of the corner of his eye, his voice like ice.
"Your 'research' on humans," he said, "isn't what you pretend it to be."
Solithiel laughed softly. "As expected of the Demon Lord's teacher. You've seen right through me."
Turning, she began to walk away, her blue-green hair swaying with the wind.
"Well then, there's no need for me to stay any longer. Lord Elias—perhaps we'll meet again someday."
"Why not now?"
Elias's voice cut through the wind, cold and sharp.
"When you were still hiding in the trees, you were already preparing to strike, weren't you?"
"Because I'm naive," Solithiel said lightly, glancing back with a faint smile.
"At least after witnessing your barrier magic, I knew better than to provoke you."
"If you had unleashed an attack instead, I wouldn't have even had time to beg for mercy."
She lifted a slender hand to her chest, brushing the red jewel hanging there.
"In the end, I'm just a messenger. Hardly worth dying for someone else's cause."
She smiled one last time. "Until next time, my lord."
And with that, she vanished into the mist.
Elias watched her disappear, the faintest shadow crossing his face.
After the Seven Sages… the Demon King's army has only grown more unstable.
"Coexistence through total war," huh?
He almost laughed.
What was that boy thinking?
Still… war would only delight Serie. It was exactly her kind of game.
——
Elias spent the entire day circling the outskirts of the village, scanning every cave and ravine for traces of demonic presence. When he finally confirmed there were none, he returned after midnight.
The village was silent. Every house dark, every soul asleep.
"…Flamme's probably—"
Whip!
Before he could finish the thought, a sudden thread of light shot from the shadows, wrapping around his body and yanking him off the ground.
Elias didn't struggle. He simply hung there, staring calmly toward the central statue.
"Come out, Flamme," he said evenly. "I know you're behind this."
"…Damn it," came a voice from the shadows, laced with frustration.
"Why is it always this damned killing intent…"
From behind the statue, Flamme stepped into the moonlight, her expression sharp and solemn as she glared up at Elias.
In truth, he had already sensed her murderous intent long before she revealed herself.
From the moment he entered the village, that killing will had been simmering—quiet but unmistakable.
Falling into her "trap" was no accident. It was something he'd anticipated.
Elias sighed softly. "Spare me, Flamme."
"Can't you let me live a peaceful life for once?"
"How about this—just pretend I'm an ordinary human mage. Wouldn't that be easier for both of us?"
"Ha…" Flamme let out a mocking laugh.
"Treat you like an ordinary human mage? Then tell me, Elias—"
She turned and pointed dramatically toward the village statue.
"—who is that woman with the enormous chest, pretending to be a human mage?!"
Elias: (´-ι_-｀)
"Silent now, are you?" she sneered. "Too ashamed to explain?"
"It's over, demon. I've found proof of your deception, hidden right here!"
Triumphantly, she pulled from her pocket a familiar old book—
[Magic to Freely Adjust the Size of One's Bust]
Elias: (ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
"You've got nothing to say, do you?" she pressed. "Fine then! Tell me where your accomplices are hiding!"
She pointed at the statue again, voice rising with self-righteous zeal.
"That bald brute with the beard—he's one of them!"
"And that long-eared goblin, too!"
Elias simply closed his eyes.
With a soft snap, the threads binding him split cleanly in midair, and he landed lightly on the ground.
Flamme staggered back, wide-eyed.
"Impossible! That silk-thread spell was created by the great sage Aivis! You—how did you—"
"It's a counterfeit," Elias said calmly. "As far as I know, Aivis never created any spell like that."
"How would you know?!"
"Because Aivis himself," Elias replied, turning his gaze past her, "is standing right behind you."
Flamme froze. Slowly, she turned—only to meet the fierce, stone-carved glare of the bald, bearded statue.
"You're saying… that thing is the legendary Great Sage Aivis?!"
"Precisely. And while you're at it," Elias continued lightly, "you can also try guessing who that long-eared dwarf is."
He tilted his head, smirking.
"I'll give you a hint. That person had very beautiful golden hair."
"...Wait…"
Flamme's eyes widened as the realization crept in.
"…It can't be—!!!"
"No! Impossible! My teacher is adorable! There's no way she could've turned into that!"
Elias shrugged with an indifferent smile.
"Human memory isn't perfect, you know. Over the centuries, stories change—details warp."
"The gentle sage Aivis becomes a rough-looking bandit."
"Your lovely teacher Serie becomes a grumpy, short-tempered goblin."
"And me—a once-handsome, charming man—could end up remembered as a woman."
He smirked faintly. "Tell me, Flamme—shall we make a wager? A thousand years from now, perhaps your statue will depict a man. Maybe even a middle-aged one."
"Never!" she cried. "Absolutely not!"
Flamme shook her head violently, horrified by the image of herself as a bearded old man.
Then her eyes suddenly darted back to him.
"Wait—hold on! Then what's with this perverted grimoire?!" she demanded, waving the book furiously. "And why were you, the Great Sage Aivis, and my teacher immortalized together as heroes?!"
Elias shrugged. "That's a question for Serie. She's the one who wrote that book."
"...What?!"
The words hit her like a thunderbolt. For a moment, her mind went blank—then, against her will, she imagined her dignified teacher… solemnly demonstrating the "Bust Adjustment Spell."
A chill ran down her spine.
"…Why does that image… feel so accurate?" she muttered under her breath.
"Hey," Elias interrupted, his tone serious now. "If you want answers, ask Serie directly."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded envelope.
"And take this. It's a letter—for her."
He extended it toward her, his eyes faintly somber beneath the pale moonlight.
"Deliver it yourself. I think… it's time your teacher and I spoke again."