Carne Village breathed two kinds of air that day.
One was relief—warm, shaky, grateful.
The other was grief—heavy, raw, unavoidable.
Survivors wept quietly as they gathered the bodies of friends, spouses, parents, children. Some cried as they worked. Some couldn't cry at all. Others trembled with shock. Their hands shook while stacking corpses, while wiping blood from dirt floors, while piecing together what remained of homes and families.
Yet through all of it, their eyes drifted again and again toward a single figure.
A woman with wings as dark as the night sky.
Horns rising elegantly from her temples.
Snow-white dress unmarred by dust or blood.
A smile soft enough to make the world feel safe again.
Albedo.
Or so she had introduced herself.
To the villagers, she seemed less like a demon and more like an angel—one who had descended from the heavens to save them from certain doom.
Even now, she moved among the grieving with the serenity of a saint. Nemu clung to her side like a shadow, refusing to leave even for a minute. The girl had lost her parents. In her shattered world, Albedo was the only thing that still felt warm.
The villagers whispered as they worked:
"She saved us."
"She saved our children."
"She didn't ask for anything in return…"
"She must be a messenger of the gods."
And yet—
"Perhaps… we should offer her something," someone murmured.
And so they did.
A small pouch of coins—every spare copper the village could scrape together. Hard-earned money they truly couldn't afford to part with. But their gratitude demanded it.
Albedo blinked in surprise when the offering was placed in her hands.
"Is this… for me?"
The villagers bowed deeply.
"Please," the village chief said. "Let us show our thanks in a tangible way… even if the amount is shamefully small."
Momonga—inside Albedo's body—hesitated for a heartbeat.
Then she smiled.
"Very well. If you wish to offer it, I will accept it."
The villagers' relief was almost overwhelming. They had feared a rejection out of humility. They needed her to accept their gratitude—to make it real, something they could cling to.
They adored her for it.
Nemu adored her most of all.
The girl sat in Albedo's lap, staring up with big, damp eyes full of worship. Losing her family had left her with a void that only this gentle, otherworldly woman could fill.
Children were pure.
They sensed truth instinctively.
And Nemu sensed nothing but kindness.
The villagers, overhearing childish chatter, eventually asked:
"Albedo-sama… forgive us if this is rude, but… are you, perhaps… truly a goddess?"
Momonga paused.
Then said, very plainly:
"No. I'm a demon."
The villagers blinked.
Then laughed nervously.
How thoughtful of her—to make such a gentle, harmless joke just to lighten their wounded hearts.
A demon?
Ridiculous.
She was an angel. Fairy, perhaps. Saint, maybe. Something divine. Not a creature of malice or shadow. Not someone who would bathe in blood and torment innocents.
They refused to consider anything else.
She had saved them.
She had comforted their children.
She had shown no cruelty, only warmth.
How could such a being be anything but holy?
But when they asked about her homeland—
"Yggdrasil… the nation of Nazarick… have you heard of them?"
The villagers shook their heads.
"I see…" Albedo murmured softly.
Momonga swallowed her disappointment. She had hoped—absurdly—that some trace of her old world might exist here.
Instead, the villagers began listing the nations they did know:
"The Re-Estize Kingdom, to the west."
"The Baharuth Empire."
"The Slane Theocracy—dangerous zealots, mind you."
"And the Roble Holy Kingdom."
Momonga listened carefully. And her mind—Albedo's enhanced mind—absorbed the information with remarkable speed.
Her processing power was higher.
Her comprehension sharper.
But she was still the same driver behind a much more powerful engine.
So this world… truly isn't Yggdrasil.
The villagers continued explaining their customs, dangers, currencies, and taboos. And then came the most crucial detail:
"In human lands," the chief explained nervously, "non-human races… especially those with demonic traits… are not welcomed."
Momonga's hand drifted unconsciously to her horns.
So that's why they were afraid of me at first.
She had forgotten—for humans, demons weren't NPCs or raid bosses. They were nightmares. Predators. Symbols of ruin.
Momonga sighed internally.
I'll need to hide these if I ever go to a city.
She was still thinking this when she noticed movement on the horizon—dust rising, sunlight glinting off metal.
A mounted group was approaching the village.
"…Ah. Trouble."
She straightened, wings rustling.
The villagers paled.
"W-We don't know who they are…"
"Could they be more attackers?"
"Will we be slaughtered again?"
Momonga lifted a hand.
"Everyone—quickly, get inside your homes."
The command was gentle, but firm enough that even panic paused.
"Village chief, stay with me."
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
The people ran. Doors slammed. Curtains fluttered. Only the chief remained, trembling beside her.
Then she felt a tug at her dress.
"Albedo-sama… you'll be careful, right…?" Nemu whispered.
Momonga knelt and stroked her hair.
"I'll protect you. All of you. I promise."
Nemu nodded, though she clung to Albedo's fingers until Enri gently pulled her away.
Momonga stood, facing the incoming riders.
They'll make excellent… test subjects.
Her golden eyes narrowed with anticipation.
Let's see what this world has to offer.