The weight of the axe sang through Momonga's arms with each swing.
In her past life, Suzuki Satoru had never lifted anything heavier than a grocery bag. But this body—the body of Albedo, level 100 overseer of Nazarick—moved with flawless precision. Every motion was discipline refined into instinct. Every strike was art.
A normal man should not have been able to kill so effortlessly.
And yet, Momonga found herself doing exactly that—killing armored knights as easily as snapping twigs.
This… really is addictive, she realized.
Not the slaughter itself.
Not the bloodshed.
But the overwhelming power.
The certainty of victory.
The sheer physical freedom.
For a man who had once been powerless in every part of his life, becoming something more—something superhuman—was intoxicating.
As she cleaved another knight in half, she whispered:
"Let's test something simpler."
Lightning flared at her fingertips.
Triple Magic: Lightning Bolt.
Three spears of crackling blue energy split the air, striking three different knights simultaneously. Their screams filled their armor like trapped animals, then fell silent as their bodies crumpled, smoking from within.
Momonga exhaled.
Even third-tier spells can kill humans outright.
Their equipment was pathetic. Their strength, negligible. Compared to beings of Yggdrasil, these knights were barely above children.
She would've felt almost disappointed—
if they hadn't been such monsters themselves.
But this wasn't a battle anymore.
It was an execution.
Knights fled in every direction, stumbling over helmets and discarded weapons in their desperation. Some wept. Some screamed. All of them ran.
And Momonga watched them with a faint, almost bored expression.
I thought the commander might be stronger, she mused. This was hardly a challenge.
But one knight remained: Beryus.
He locked eyes with her—just as she muttered a spell.
"Grasp Heart."
His body jerked violently.
Eyes rolled.
Knees buckled.
As his heart clenched in on itself, Beryus tried to scream, but no sound escaped. Then, before his corpse even touched the ground, his own subordinates trampled over him in their frantic escape.
Momonga sighed.
"What an embarrassing end."
She flicked her axe clean, then dismissed it into her inventory. With the weapon gone, the silence that followed washed over the ruined village like a long-awaited exhale.
The villagers slowly peeked out from their hiding places.
The hellscape was still hell—but its devils were gone.
The woman who stood at the center of it all—the radiant beauty with horns, wings, and a serene expression—was the only thing keeping them tethered to hope.
A man with a gray beard stepped forward cautiously.
"Y-You… saved us…"
Momonga turned, offering a gentle, warm smile—the kind of expression only Albedo's body could produce so naturally.
"I saw your village under attack," she said softly. "I couldn't ignore it."
Relief swept through the villagers like a cleansing wind. Tears welled, shoulders sagged, and grateful murmurs spread.
"You're safe now," she told them. "No more danger."
For a moment, it truly felt as if a goddess stood before them.
But uncertainty flickered across their faces.
Because she had horns.
And wings.
And beauty too unnatural to belong to any mortal.
What if she demanded tribute?
Or souls?
Before their fear could grow, a small voice cried out:
"Albedo-sama!"
Little Nemu—still trembling with worry—ran toward Momonga and latched onto her skirt. Enri hurried behind her, out of breath and apologetic.
"I—I'm sorry! She was so worried about you, she just… she ran off…"
Momonga knelt gracefully, brushing Nemu's hair with a tenderness that surprised even herself.
"It's all right. I'm just glad you're safe."
Enri's eyes widened.
Her cheeks flushed.
How could someone look like this—
so kind, so beautiful—
and also be a demon?
She didn't understand.
She simply felt grateful.
"Th-thank you… truly…"
Momonga shook her head gently.
"No thanks are needed. Helping those in trouble is only natural."
The villagers felt something tighten in their chests.
Shame.
Admiration.
Awe.
They had doubted her—if only for a moment.
And now they regretted it.
This person… is good, they all realized.
Not because of her beauty.
Not because of her power.
But because she acted when no one else would.
A quiet reverence rippled through Carne Village.
For them, she was no longer a stranger.
She was salvation.
And their hearts bowed to her.