Chapter 63 - rrr

"It seems it's my turn to step in."

Macht surveyed the golden statue Flamme had set down on the ground, then calmly made his way to the front of the group. No one had asked him to act — but without being prompted, he lifted the Gold Transformation Magic (Di Agolze) from Aura of his own accord.

"Ugh! You bastard, Macht — I always figured I was the only one who could defect... and yet here you are, running off to the humans' side!"

With the Gold Transformation Magic she had used to protect herself dispelled, Lady Aura was visibly on the edge of despair. In front of Macht, re-encasing herself would accomplish nothing.

So... to preserve her dignity, should she just kill herself?

Absolutely not! Lady Aura had not lived nearly enough — she had no intention of dying!

Aura clenched her teeth. In that instant, her mind was running faster than it ever had.

Is there a way... is there any way to escape?!

Tch... how am I supposed to find a way out? Against this lot, even my perfect combo of Magic of Obedience (Auserlese) plus Gold Transformation Magic is completely useless... Does that mean I'm just waiting to die?!

Fíliya, what are you doing?! You heartless woman — you have that far-sight of yours, so you must have already seen that I've been captured... why aren't you coming to save me...

With your power, couldn't you whisk me back in the blink of an eye.....

Lost in those frantic thoughts, a look of pure wounded grievance crept across Lady Aura's face — the spitting image of a kitten abandoned by its owner.

"Alright, Aura. Don't even think about trying anything. Just answer our questions."

Frieren crouched down in front of the demon, her expression completely blank.

"!?"

Aura first startled — then felt a small surge of relief.

They want to question me... right, I still have value alive... they won't kill me. They need information from me first.

So... should she sell them that information?

Absolutely not!

Even Aura had her pride!

And so Aura's gaze turned to steel. With every ounce of dignity she could muster, she delivered her line.

"I won't tell you a single thing... Hrgh... Just kill me."

The sight of the demon with the enormous curved horns putting on a face of noble self-sacrifice struck everyone as simply ridiculous.

"It seems she's not worth talking to. Best just dispose of her."

Frieren fixed Aura with a cold stare.

Ugh!

Aura's whole body gave an involuntary shudder. Of course she was afraid to die — her heart had practically leapt into her throat. And yet she clung to one last hazy fantasy:

Maybe Fíliya got distracted for a moment and missed what was happening... but once she notices I've been captured... she'll come save me, won't she... She did say she'd protect me.

The orb of light in Frieren's hand kept growing, building and building, on the verge of being released — the moment of Aura's probable death drawing closer by the second — and still no sign of rescue came.

You absolute traitor, Fíliya. You really aren't coming!

Well... I suppose this is my own fault too. I had already made up my mind to throw everything away and live only for myself — and in the end I still went and trusted someone else.

That's what you get for trusting people, isn't it.

But at least... I kept my promise, didn't I?

At that thought, the trembling in Aura's body stilled. She said nothing more — and quietly closed her eyes.

"Tch....."

Frieren watched, and could only put away her magic with an expression of clear displeasure.

"It seems no rescue is coming for her... and she's genuinely not going to give us anything."

"Mm. I'm a little surprised, actually. I recall that this demon was someone Fíliya held in high regard — and yet she was captured this easily, and Fíliya doesn't seem to have any intention of retrieving her....."

"So there's really only one option left, isn't there."

"Indeed."

The master-and-disciple pair of Frieren and Flamme reached their decision quickly. They turned and beckoned to Miss Edel, who stood among the crowd.

"Edel, come help us check — we need to make sure we don't miss a single memory."

Frieren extended the invitation, and Edel came forward without hesitation.

Whenever she had even a small part to play, Miss Edel looked genuinely delighted.

This is bad, this is very bad.....

Watching the scene unfold, Aura's heart sank — even she could guess what they were about to do to her.

They were definitely going to use Mind Control Magic (Gramtranz) on her. And with three of them working together — who could possibly hold out against that? Would her mind come out of this intact? Even if it did, everything about her would be laid completely bare.

You people are absolutely despicable!

But then Aura reconsidered... maybe this was actually acceptable?

It wasn't like she could resist anymore anyway... It's not like I'm the one giving up the information. I'm the victim here, really...

And besides — do I even know anything worth knowing?

Wait, how would I not?

While Aura's thoughts were racing at full speed, a strange, irresistible drowsiness washed over her — and she sank immediately into a deep sleep.

"Right. Let's begin."

The three gathered around Aura exchanged a glance, then together dove into the sea of Lady Aura's consciousness.

Some time passed.

Under the combined efforts of two great mages and one prodigy of mind magic, Lady Aura was thoroughly and completely laid bare — figuratively speaking.

Having reviewed the full span of Lady Aura's life, Frieren first furrowed her brow, then let out a quiet sigh.

"She really is a lucky one."

That was Frieren's verdict — because she had discovered that Aura had once harbored plans to use Magic of Obedience to raise an undead army and resume her campaign against humanity.

If not for her encounter with Fíliya, Aura would have carried out that plan without question — and would have been destroyed for it, either by Frieren herself or by a combined human effort. None of the happiness that followed would have existed.

And yes — having read through Aura's thoughts, Frieren found that after Aura, Fíliya, Solitär, and Linie had formed their strange little family, Aura had gone on to live days of joy that would make many a human envious.

Even within the Demon King's Castle, these four had shared a remarkably lively everyday life. While the human side had been on constant high alert, nerves stretched to their limit... those four had been living inside the castle with almost absurd ease.

She also saw the ritual — the one in which Fíliya had used Terminal Virus Magic to reshape the demon race.

For the moment, though, she couldn't quite grasp what Fíliya's goal had been.

That magic — the one that dissolved hundreds of demons into bloody water and then brought them back — was something Frieren had never so much as heard of before.

"I see... No wonder the demons have been forming settlements like little villages, and even learning to build houses. Fíliya, that child, is genuinely [remaking] the demon race."

Flamme, standing at Frieren's side, was deep in thought — after all, she knew Fíliya's ideals better than most.

"Is that so..."

Frieren gave a small nod. She was beginning to remember now — Fíliya had said something similar to her as well, hadn't she.

Once Aura had been read from the inside out, Frieren finally released her — but what followed was a sense of helplessness.

After all, while Aura's memories held a fair amount of information... none of it was anything that could prove decisive in bringing down Fíliya.

She had lived by Fíliya's side every single day, and yet she knew nothing of Fíliya's goals or inner thoughts?

Aura, you really are useless.

Frieren thought venomously.

Miss Edel's expression, too, had gone rather sour. She had read through it again and again — the happy, ordinary days Fíliya and those demons had shared together. It left her feeling, unavoidably, a little annoyed. Or perhaps, ever so slightly... jealous.

"It seems we can't get anything more useful out of her. So what do we do with this... lump?"

Frieren said coldly.

"Hah?! — A LUMP?!"

The moment Aura heard that, she was so furious she nearly shot to her feet, forgetting entirely what position she was currently in.

"What else would you call yourself? Look at you — aren't you basically just a lump of excess flesh?"

Frieren's gaze remained utterly contemptuous.

"...F-fine... Fine, Frieren, I get it now — you're jealous of Lady Aura's figure! Ha! You're flat as a cutting board, so you resent anyone with actual curves!"

Just as Aura, face blazing with indignation, was about to rise to her feet and properly argue her case with this insufferable elf — a sword appeared without warning, pressing against her throat and cutting the motion short.

The shock jolted through her. She twisted her head to look — and found herself staring straight into Himmel's smile, which, from where Aura sat, looked exactly like the grin of a demon.

Fine. When you're under someone else's roof, you bow your head. You're all ganging up on me, and I'll just have to swallow it!

For a while after that, the group conferred on what exactly to do with their captured demon.

In the end, the decision was handed down by the one all of them revered — the legendary great mage, Flamme.

"Can she be kept under control? If so, I think we should bring her along when we go to meet Fíliya."

That was Flamme's word on the matter.

Upon hearing it, Edel immediately nodded with complete confidence. While she had been examining Aura's inner world, she had already figured it out — this demon with the enormous curved horns, and equally impressive proportions elsewhere, had virtually no mental resistance to speak of.

And so, wearing a rather unsettling smile, Edel slowly closed in on Miss Aura.

"What are you doing?! What are you doing?!"

Miss Aura recoiled in alarm, her backside scraping a shallow groove in the dirt as she scooted away.

"Why, taking control of you, of course. Hold still, and don't worry — a little dizziness is perfectly normal."

Edel said this with a perfectly pleasant expression.

"You can't be serious!"

Aura bit her lip, her face a storm of humiliation and fury.

Was this really where her storied reputation would come to ruin? Her greatest specialty was Magic of Obedience — and now the tables had turned completely, and she was about to be controlled by some little human girl?

But there was nothing Miss Aura could do about it for long.

Just as Edel had said — while Aura herself was quite skilled at controlling others, she had essentially no resistance whatsoever to being controlled in turn. Edel broke through Aura's mental defenses with ease.

Of course, it helped that Edel was surrounded by so many formidable fighters that Aura couldn't even muster the will to resist in the first place.

...

The party to subjugate the Demon King was finally able to press onward.

It was a journey to save the world — and yet, after everything that had just transpired, the heavy atmosphere within the group had been thoroughly shattered. So naturally, idle conversation filled the road ahead.

"Come to think of it, we haven't run into a single monster along the way."

Himmel's tone was almost wistful.

"You're right — it's not just the Far North, either. Not a single monster anywhere near it, either... Is it because the Demon King is here, and they don't dare come close? But that doesn't quite add up — when we came through last time, the Far North had plenty of monsters lurking around."

Eisen added.

"Mm... if you look carefully, there actually are traces of monster activity in these parts. Faint mana signatures remain, too."

Frieren surveyed the surroundings and offered her assessment.

"So the monsters ran away?"

Fern asked, curious.

"No. The more likely answer is... they were hunted clean by the demons gathered here."

Flamme, leading the group from the front, spoke with certainty.

"?"

Fern blinked — clearly that possibility hadn't crossed her mind — then seemed to understand, and nodded slowly.

"Fíliya gathered every demon on the continent here — so where does their food come from? The Far North has virtually no natural resources to speak of."

"Ah, I see. The Association has been keeping a close eye on this situation recently. We had assumed that such a massive concentration of demons might mean a large-scale offensive... but so far, there hasn't been a single report of demons attacking villages, preying on humans, or raiding supplies."

Falsch finally found his opening to contribute.

"Mm. Looking at it from that angle, Fíliya... truly does have the ability to keep the demons in check. She's likely brought about no small change in them. A problem that plagued humanity for a thousand years, and this child has already solved it... Oh — my apologies."

That last apology was because Flamme realized that in the middle of a subjugation mission, she had just instinctively praised Fíliya — which felt rather ill-timed.

"In any case... let us continue forward."

The group moved on, and before long they arrived at a village.

Even with their minds already braced for what they might find, the sight before them still left everyone struggling to believe their own eyes.

A great crowd of demons, going about their work in perfect, unhurried order — each one building their own home. The arrival of the subjugation party hadn't caused so much as a ripple. It was as though no one even noticed them.

It was only when a demon approached — one whose total mana was clearly well above average, though still some distance from the level of a true Greater Demon, something closer to a squad-leader tier — that the group finally snapped out of their stupor.

The squad-leader demon had already spotted Lady Aura in the crowd, standing there under mind control. After a moment of looking down as if in thought, it chose to selectively ignore Lady Aura's existence entirely.

"The Demon King has given her instructions: all guests from the human side are to proceed forward. She has already made preparations to receive you. The Demon King also asks that the human guests refrain from disturbing the demons' everyday lives."

After delivering that message, the squad-leader instinctively glanced once more at Aura — and at the tall figure of Macht — before vanishing swiftly from sight.

Himmel and Frieren looked at each other. In both their eyes was the same helpless resignation.

Only now did Himmel truly understand what it meant to draw your sword and find nothing to cut at.

There were indeed a few dozen demons ahead — but it was nothing like the harrowing scene they had imagined, of being surrounded on all sides by hundreds of demons. Instead, these were... ordinary villagers? With not a shred of hostility, not the slightest desire to fight?

Neither Himmel nor Frieren — nor anyone else — could bring themselves to strike first under these circumstances.

Himmel slowly sheathed his sword, then shook his head.

"Let's keep moving. That girl called Fíliya said she's waiting for us, didn't she."

"So we've simply arrived at the Demon King's Castle just like that."

"Mm, not a single obstacle..."

"Though we haven't encountered a single Greater Demon yet. They must all be gathered inside."

"Let's go in. We've come this far — there's no reason to stand around."

Standing before the imposing Demon King's Castle, the subjugation party exchanged a few brief words before Himmel, as the Hero, took the lead and pushed open the great doors.

"..."

From the threshold, they could already make out the shape of a throne in the distance — but strangely, the hall was empty. No sign of Fíliya. No sign of any demon at all.

"Any mana signatures?" Himmel asked, glancing toward Frieren.

Frieren only shook her head, then mirrored Himmel's gesture and looked toward her own teacher.

"Nothing. Not a single response. This place is a ghost town," Flamme said, her expression faintly troubled.

She knew her wayward student's character well enough to have some read on her. If Fíliya had gone to the trouble of sending word — I'll be waiting at the Demon King's Castle — then she wouldn't resort to something as petty as concealing herself and launching a surprise attack. Whatever that child had envisioned, it had to be a head-on confrontation with the subjugation party.

So what was the meaning of this empty castle?

"Let's look for clues. Based on what we know of her so far, this freshly-minted Demon King might be trying to play a rather cheap game of hide-and-seek with us."

The elven warrior monk offered his assessment. A being of however many centuries, he had certainly met his share of individuals with eccentric tastes.

"Mm..."

Everyone agreed. After everything they'd been through to get here, simply turning back was out of the question. Even if Fíliya had set some kind of trap or trick inside the hall, it was a trial they had no choice but to face.

Himmel took the first step forward. Whatever lay ahead, he was willing to test the waters for everyone else.

But the moment his foot was about to touch the floor, his body lurched — sharply, unexpectedly — like someone who misses a step coming down a staircase.

Frieren noticed it first. She immediately reached out to grab his cloak — but Himmel was falling at an unnatural speed, and she couldn't catch him in time.

What shocked her even more was that Himmel didn't hit the ground.

Instead, as if falling into some kind of water's surface, he sank directly into the floor beneath him and vanished.

"Stay calm, Frieren."

Seeing her instinctively move to follow in Himmel's footsteps, Eisen and Flamme called out to stop her at once.

"This floor... it's strange. There's genuinely no mana response. Can something like this even be classified as a magic spell?"

Flamme crouched down and poked at the spot where Himmel had disappeared. From her fingertip, ripples began spreading outward in slow, steady rings.

"This..."

The bizarre sight left everyone speechless. What had appeared to be solid ground was, in truth, liquid in nature.

A burst of ordinary attack magic struck the floor — Fern's shot. But it disappeared exactly as if it had been dropped into a deep sea, without leaving so much as a trace.

"So this is her first trial...," Frieren murmured.

Then she stepped forward without hesitation, leaning into the fall.

"Miss Frieren..."

This time, it was her apprentice Fern who looked at her with worried eyes.

"What is it, Fern? You saw it too, didn't you — that thing swallowed Himmel. So I have to go and save him."

Frieren looked back, her gaze carrying quiet, unwavering resolve. Seeing it, Flamme and Eisen said nothing more, and instead stepped silently to her side — it seemed they intended to dive in together.

"...I understand."

Fern gave a small nod as well. Then, almost unconsciously, her eyes drifted toward Stark.

If it were Mr. Stark in danger — I wouldn't accept anyone holding me back, either.

Fern understood that much in an instant.

"Looks like everyone's made up their minds."

Flamme swept her gaze around the group, then let it settle on the one girl who had practically no direct combat capability to speak of.

Bringing her along into whatever lay below would make protecting her exponentially more difficult. Reason told Flamme it would be better to leave the girl here.

But at this point, no matter what she said, it would fall on deaf ears — that much was obvious.

"P-please don't leave me here... We agreed, didn't we? When facing unknown situations, isn't that exactly when you need me to maintain the [Party Link]?"

Edel, catching Flamme's gaze, had already assumed she was about to be talked out of coming again.

"Fair enough."

Flamme gave a small nod. She admitted Edel had a point.

"Then that settles it."

Frieren tilted her body forward and dropped into the [pool] before her.

Seeing Frieren go first, the others followed one by one, stepping up to the edge and sinking into the floor.

Darkness. A darkness with no visible bottom.

Was she falling? The sensation of weightlessness wasn't particularly strong, but Miss Edel could still feel her body drifting slowly downward.

At first she didn't dare open her eyes. Then she realized, with surprise, that despite having plunged in, there was no moisture in the air around her — and no sense of breathlessness, either.

Once the feeling of falling began to ease, Edel slowly opened her eyes.

"There's a light source..."

She fixed her gaze on it and tried to swim toward it, dragging along the deadweight beside her — the one who had gone completely limp.

She couldn't begin to understand how she was managing to "swim" in a space this dark, where she could feel no material substance whatsoever — but she could tell, unmistakably, that she was getting closer to that light.

When she finally reached it, Edel also found the feeling of solid ground returning beneath her feet. The simple sensation of standing on something real was deeply reassuring.

And at least she wasn't entirely alone. There was a perfectly good meat shield right beside her.

Edel thought this, and glanced sidelong at the blank-eyed demon at her side.

She started walking. It didn't take long before, within the light, she spotted a door.

She placed her hand on it, swallowed instinctively, and turned the handle. After a brief moment of surprise — it actually opens — she composed herself and stepped inside.

"Fíliya...?"

She peered carefully into the room, searching for the figure she had been hoping to find.

But she wasn't there.

The space resembled a tearoom — clean air, and even windows, with clear light streaming through them from outside.

A spatial magic spell... Where exactly have I been transported to?

Edel immediately tried to cast a spell, but received no response. The [Party Link] she had been maintaining had already been severed by some unknown force.

"The Demon King instructed me to wait for you here, human."

A voice made Edel's entire body seize up. She raised her eyes.

The demon who had been sitting with its back to her had turned its chair around and was now watching her with a cold, indifferent gaze.

If there was one thing that managed to take the edge off Edel's nerves, just slightly — it was that the corners of this seemingly aloof, dark-skinned demon's mouth were unmistakably smeared with what appeared to be crumbs from some kind of cookie or biscuit.

"Fíliya... doesn't want me using the Party Link to connect everyone."

Edel understood that in an instant.

"Naturally," Tot said, still chewing. "That magic of yours was born from the Demon King's own inspiration, so of course the Demon King accounted for your existence." She popped another biscuit into her mouth as she spoke.

"...What do you want with me?"

Edel could tell at a glance — this demon in front of her carried none of that terrifying aura, none of that crushing pressure, and yet she was absolutely not someone Edel could oppose.

Her mana reserves... were even greater than Aura's by a considerable margin. So this was what they called a Greater Demon.

Then... could she use Aura to buy some time? They were both Greater Demons — even if Aura was outmatched, surely she wouldn't fall immediately?

Edel thought this, and immediately issued a command to Aura at her side.

But none of her commands took effect. Aura simply stood there like a wooden post, motionless as ever.

"Give it up, human. This is the Domain of Non-Aggression. Any and all acts of attack are rendered void here," Tot said, tilting her head slightly as she watched Edel's strange behavior and offered the explanation.

"The Domain of Non-Aggression..."

Edel blinked, then turned the words over in her mind, parsing their meaning.

If any form of attack was rendered void... that meant...

This demon can't harm me either?

The tension in Edel's shoulders eased considerably at the thought — though not entirely. She still couldn't confirm whether the demon in front of her was lying.

But... did she have any reason to lie?

Given the gap in their strength, wouldn't it be trivially easy to dispose of her? Unless, of course, this demon was the type who enjoyed spinning webs of deception just to savor the spectacle of her prey's desperate, futile struggles.

Edel was, after all, a specialist in Mind Control Magic — and when it came to imagination, she was leagues ahead of the average person.

Unfortunately for her, she was reading Tot as a ten-layer schemer, when Tot had never operated above the first layer a day in her life.

"The Demon King created this space specifically for you," Tot said, not remotely interested in whatever Edel was thinking. She just kept munching on her biscuits and talked at her own pace.

"This place severs all your connections to the outside world and prevents any acts of aggression from occurring... The Demon King really does have a mischievous streak. She said she was counting on me, and yet she still didn't fully trust me — I imagine she was worried I might end up hurting you."

"Fíliya... what on earth is she trying to do."

Seeing that the demon didn't seem to be deceiving her, Edel directed Aura to move and sat down beside Tot.

"No idea. The only job the Demon King gave me was to wait here for you and eat whatever I like."

As she said it, Tot slid the tray on the tea table toward Edel.

For all her enthusiasm for eating, it seemed Tot had no territorial instincts about food whatsoever.

Edel blinked, then slowly reached out and took a biscuit from the tray. She looked at this strange demon before her, unsure whether she should even say thank you.

"Yes, that's the way. Stay here with me, and wait for everything to reach its end."

Seeing that Edel hadn't refused her food, Tot broke into a small, sweet smile — and resumed eating.

As the Saint of the End, wasting time had always been Tot's most natural occupation, and she was perfectly content with her current situation.

Edel, however, was not quite so at ease.

But what could she do right now... It seemed there was nothing she could do.

She turned and looked at Aura beside her, then steeled herself.

She released control of Aura entirely.

If this truly was a Domain of Non-Aggression where no one could harm anyone else... then she would do as Fíliya intended, and simply stay here, quietly.

"You wretched human!"

The instant the control was lifted, Aura's face twisted with fury as she lunged toward Edel.

But before she could complete the motion, she found a hand already closing around her throat.

"Who's there?! Wait — this is my own hand!"

Aura stared in disbelief as her own hand, entirely out of her control, clamped itself around her own neck, making it difficult to breathe.

She shot a vicious glare at Edel.

But Edel only shook her head blankly, indicating that she had fully released her hold on Aura and accepted absolutely no responsibility for whatever was happening now.

"Aura, you pitiful thing... to think you let yourself be controlled by a human," Tot remarked from the side, without a shred of mercy.

Aura winced at the words — a flash of embarrassment, followed by a wave of dejection — and her head drooped. And in that same moment, she noticed that her hand was no longer strangling her.

"This is the Domain of Non-Aggression..."

Tot offered Aura the same brief explanation as before.

"Oh... So that's why no magic works here... And even without mana, if you try to attack with your body alone, it turns against you instead..."

Aura finally understood what that strange phenomenon had been about.

"Tch... If there's nothing I can do anyway, then I'm not holding back."

Aura, to her credit, was remarkably pragmatic. Once she grasped the nature of the space, she stopped struggling entirely and simply reached out to help herself to the various biscuits on the tea table — converting her frustration directly into appetite.

Edel let out a quiet sigh at the scene.

She had wanted so badly to be useful to everyone — and instead she had ended up like this, a bystander on the sidelines, completely removed from the situation.

Please, everyone... stay safe.

It was all Edel could do to send that silent prayer from the depths of her heart.

Frieren looked toward Himmel in the distance, then at Eisen beside her, and furrowed her brow.

"Where are the others..."

"No idea."

"The little girl's magic — the one that lets you speak in each other's minds — it's stopped working too. We can't reach anyone."

"I see. That's one of the possibilities we anticipated... Actually, doesn't this place feel familiar to you?"

The three exchanged a glance, then quickly began sifting through their memories.

"This is... the Far North, ninety years ago. This is how it looked when we subjugated the previous Demon King."

"What is Fíliya doing — making us fight the previous Demon King all over again?"

"What we can say for certain is that this is her way of stalling. She's definitely preparing something."

Frieren stated it with complete conviction. Why? Because of that — that vague, wordless intuition of hers.

"So... do we press on?"

Eisen asked, a note of tension in his voice.

The previous Demon King was no ordinary foe. Even if they were to face that battle again, their party had no guarantee of victory.

And now... without Heiter's support.

"If we won once, we can win again. Let's show her our resolve — there's no way she's stopping us with a trick like this."

The one who stepped forward in that moment to rally them was not Himmel.

It was Frieren.

She raised her staff high, took one step forward, and looked toward the Demon King's Castle in the distance with open contempt.

"If anything, this is a fine opportunity. I want to see for myself — ninety years of advances in human magic later, just how easy it is to kill a Demon King."

Frieren's frame was slight, as always — but standing like that, so utterly at ease, so effortlessly bold, she looked nothing short of immense in Himmel's eyes.

"Frieren..."

Himmel called out her name without thinking.

"What?"

Frieren turned to look at him.

"Just now — you looked incredibly cool."

Himmel smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.

"...I know."

"Everyone… so Stark and Lady Frieren have been separated from us too."

Fern steadied herself and looked around at the surrounding darkness, her heart tightening with unease.

At least, even though she couldn't see anything, the sensation beneath her feet was solid ground — real, firm earth. That horrible feeling of endless freefall, where even Flight Magic was useless, had finally vanished. Fern began carefully moving forward.

After pressing through the long stretch of darkness, Fern spotted a source of light ahead.

She drew closer, step by step. Then the world opened up — and she found herself looking at a scene she knew.

The sudden brightness made her instinctively shut her eyes. She waited until she'd adjusted, then slowly lowered her hand from her face.

Not far ahead, a figure was standing.

And the building behind that figure — she knew it too. Intimately.

…Isn't that where the journey began?

This was where she had grown up. Where she had met her teacher, Lady Frieren. And where she had seen her adoptive father, Heiter, off on his final journey.

Their eyes met. A sharp sting rose in Fern's eyes instantly — but she kept it contained.

Memories of that man came flooding back all at once, including no small number of the outrageous things he used to boast about.

[Fern, don't let my current state fool you — I was quite the handsome young man back in the day, you know.]

"Oh, honestly… where exactly was any of that, I'd like to know. You looked about the same as you did when you were old, and on top of that… anyone could tell at a glance you were completely incorrigible. And you call yourself a monk who serves the Goddess."

The tears Fern had been holding back finally spilled over — but she quickly wiped her face with the wide sleeve of her robe, then raised her staff and settled into a fighting stance.

Because she could see it clearly. The Heiter standing before her was under someone's control — just like Himmel had been.

That genuinely startled her. Even more so than when she had faced the hero Himmel.

After all, clergy were naturally resistant to all manner of abnormal conditions. Even a low-ranking cleric could automatically resist most status ailments — to say nothing of someone like Heiter, who stood at the very pinnacle of his calling.

Fern couldn't begin to imagine how anyone could seize control of a man shielded by the Goddess's own blessing. And yet the evidence was right in front of her.

Fíliya had done it. Somehow.

"Fíliya… is this your trial for me? Whatever the case… I still have to thank you. For letting me see him one more time."

Fern let the softness drain from her face. Her gaze steadied, then hardened.

Once she entered combat mode, Fern was not the kind of person to be held back by her feelings. The enemy before her was someone she had thought of every single day — the destination of her long journey — and even so, she would not be swayed.

"Come then, Mister Heiter… No. Father."

Alone, with no one else around, Fern finally let herself say it — that word.

For reasons unknown, Heiter — who should have been entirely under the enemy's control — gave the faintest shudder when he heard it.

But his eyes remained hollow, and no words came from his lips in answer.

The brief struggle was swiftly swallowed by hostility.

The holy scripture in Heiter's hands began to blaze with light. Its pages whipped through the air — and his attack came bearing down straight toward Fern's face.

…

Elsewhere — an open battlefield.

The crash of metal and the thunder of crumbling stone rang out across the land. On a stage built for a duel, two fighters moved in a violent dance.

But the steps of one young man were clearly faltering — he was on the verge of collapse.

Knocked from the cliff's edge yet again, Stark frantically drove his axe into the rock face and hauled himself back up, hand over hand.

"Ha… hah…"

The red-haired boy gasped for breath. The mounting exhaustion had already begun to bring on dizziness and ringing in his ears.

But he told himself: ignore everything else. Pour every last scrap of yourself into this fight. This is the most important thing you've ever had to do with your life.

"What's the matter — without that little girl's help, is this really the best you can manage?"

Rivale watched Stark's weakened state without any rush to press the attack, savoring the sensation of applying pressure.

Those words landed in Stark's ears like a blade.

Rivale's tone was perfectly calm — no deliberate mockery, no desire to humiliate. But to Stark, they cut deeper than any taunt.

In that moment, he couldn't help but look back over the long journey.

He was supposed to be the fighter — the one who charged in first and took the hits. But over all those days and miles… had he protected Fern more?

Or had Fern and Frieren protected him more?

[Why — why was it someone like me who got to survive?

The death of my father. The destruction of my clan. He had never forgotten. But… had he actually done enough? Had he truly worked hard enough to earn his revenge?

No — he couldn't let his mind wander.

Stark frantically told himself to stay calm. But faced with this particular opponent, it was proving impossible to keep the noise out.

"Heaven's Strike!"

Stark roared the words and launched himself into the air.

But his exhausted body could no longer support him. The gap between him and Rivale was simply too vast. His signature move — his best technique — landed without effect. Rivale caught his full-powered blow with casual ease.

"…"

Rivale sent him flying again with a single kick.

Stark was running on empty, already teetering on the edge of being unable to stand — but he jammed the haft of his axe into the ground and used it to prop himself upright. There was no way he was going down in front of that man.

"What a shame. In the end, neither the Demon King nor that little girl chose the right person."

Rivale looked at the red-haired boy before him without expression. His opponent was a guttering candle — and yet Rivale's face showed not satisfaction, but dissatisfaction.

"Perhaps I ought to lodge a complaint. I gave so much, and the Demon King promised me a fight to the death — and yet she never delivered. On top of that, she sent the hero's party somewhere else entirely. If I could at least have had the honor of being swarmed by all of them at once, that might have been worth what I put in."

It was as though Rivale had lost all interest in Stark entirely. He simply picked out a nearby rock that looked comfortable, sat down on it, closed his eyes, and began to think about other things.

"No… opening…"

Staring at that figure sitting there as if resting — as if he couldn't care less — Stark couldn't bring himself to attempt a surprise attack. Honestly, staying on his feet at all was already an effort. Even if he did try something, he didn't believe for a moment it would accomplish anything.

Why… why did his enemy have to be a monster like this.

There was simply no way to win. No way at all.

But that wasn't his fault, was it? He'd given everything he had.

Fine. So be it. He had just enough left for one more charge — and then that man would cut him down.

That way, even if he was weak… at least he wouldn't die a coward who clung to life.

Revenge was impossible. That man existed on a completely different level.

Of course he did. He was a monster who had lived for untold centuries, while Stark had only trained for a little over a decade. Losing wasn't shameful — it was just the math, wasn't it?

All those tangled emotions churned inside Stark and finally dissolved into a quiet, bitter smile.

He had already foreseen his own death. And he had accepted it.

"Heaven's… Strike…"

He forced the name of his technique to his lips — but he never swung.

Because the question he had been deliberately avoiding finally surfaced, refusing to be ignored any longer.

"Fern… what about Fern? Could she be facing something like this too? Could she be in danger?"

"Can I really… just die here? Just like that?"

"No… I have to kill this man. And then… go to wherever Fern is and help her."

Just as that thought crystallized in Stark's mind, Rivale finally opened his eyes.

"Oh? You still have the will to fight? Then, boy — allow me to offer my respects to your death."

Rivale rose from the rock, summoned his long-handled axe back into existence, closed his hand around it, and began to walk slowly toward Stark.

He genuinely intended to take this young human's head. After all, the Demon King had never told him he couldn't kill.

The teaching phase was long over. This was real slaughter now, and he would no longer hold back.

The only thing he found regrettable was that the boy in front of him was still not a worthy opponent — not truly.

"You know, boy… I'm not actually very skilled with an axe. I only chose it out of habit — to match my opponent's weapon."

"So what you're saying is… I'm not worth seeing your real abilities."

"That's simply the truth. Regrettable as it is. If you and Miss Fern had been able to work together, perhaps you could have posed a genuine threat to me… but it seems the Demon King had other plans for that girl."

"Is there anything you'd like me to pass on to her? She might cry very hard, you know."

"Fern… would cry for me?"

Stark murmured those words in a daze, as though the question had slipped out of him without permission.

"Naturally. That's not a guess based on experience, nor am I saying it to comfort you. That girl is very fond of you. If you died, she would certainly grieve deeply."

Stark said nothing.

In an instant, his mind flooded with memories again.

He remembered exchanging gifts with Fern — or perhaps they could be called tokens of affection. But… could they really be called that?

He had always sensed something, somewhere in the quiet corners of his heart. But Stark had never once dared to ask her directly.

Whether Fern truly liked him.

And Fern had never come to ask him, either.

He had assumed he would die without ever knowing the answer. He never imagined… it would be his sworn enemy who told him.

Then didn't that mean he had even less right to die here?

Whatever it cost him… he had to keep fighting.

"Watch yourself."

Stark murmured it quietly — this was his declaration of intent before an attack.

Rivale had clearly let his guard slip just now. Whether that small lapse would make a difference, Stark didn't know.

But since this was meant to be a fair duel to the death, Stark felt he owed his opponent the chance to notice before he struck.

"Hm?"

True enough — Rivale hadn't fully believed it.

The boy's fighting spirit really hadn't crumbled. And yet even he had to admit it: in this state of utter exhaustion, the boy had swung the fastest strike he had produced so far — perhaps the fastest he'd ever managed.

Rivale snapped backward, widening the distance between them in an instant, then reflexively raised a hand to touch his right eye.

He had moved fast. But a thin line of blood had been drawn across his right eye all the same.

It made him think of the one called the greatest human warrior — the Dwarf.

His left eye had once been wounded by the Dwarf warrior Eisen. And now, today, it was that Dwarf warrior's disciple who had scored a cut across his other eye.

Remarkable. There was a strange kind of fate in that.

For the first time, a faint smile touched the corner of Rivale's mouth.

"How strange… just moments ago you looked like a candle guttering in the wind, and yet your strength seems to have surged back all at once. Your whole body burns like a leaping flame. Is this what the Demon King meant by human potential? Tell me — what are you spending to sustain a state like this?"

Watching the boy transform in an instant — standing now with a fierce, commanding presence — Rivale's eyes lit up with something like the hunger of a predator catching a scent.

"I don't know. I don't care. Take whatever it wants."

Stark felt extraordinary. Every sense had sharpened to a razor's edge. The exhaustion had been swept away entirely, and all his strength had returned.

He could feel it clearly — his heartbeat had fallen into something wrong. His body was pumping blood at a rate that defied reason.

Heat. An overwhelming, almost unbearable heat. He felt like his very clothes might catch fire.

So what was there to do about that burning, surging urge?

Nothing but press forward — without hesitation, without retreat.

And so he moved. Like a blazing meteor, he closed the gap to Rivale in an instant, and then, with his body fully committed, sent the two of them crashing through hundreds of meters of stone and earth together.

A sound like hammers on an anvil — a massive, ringing crash of metal — filled the space, utterly unlike anything from their earlier exchanges. Now both combatants were pouring out their finest techniques, holding nothing back.

Brilliant streaks of light exploded across the battlefield, proclaiming that this fight had entered its final stage.

...

How much time passed, no one could say. At last, that dazzling, furious clash began to slow.

"I didn't expect… it would end like this."

Rivale murmured to himself. The entire space around them had been devastated beyond recognition. Even the towering cliffs had been shaved down by nearly a hundred meters.

He looked at the young human before him — coughing blood, collapsing — and felt a quiet, genuine sorrow settle over him.

How long had they been fighting? There was no sun or moon here to mark the time, and his sense of duration had been thrown off entirely.

Rivale's best estimate was at least two or three days.

The boy could no longer sustain the toll on his body — that much was clear from the streaks of white that had appeared in Stark's hair at some point during the fight.

Hair turning white was a sign that a human's life force was burning out.

So this boy had been spending his very life to keep fighting.

And yet — even so — Rivale had won.

He let out a slow breath.

If he could have chosen, he would have kept going against Stark as he had been in those moments. He could have fought much longer.

But his opponent's body had given out before his spirit did.

Disappointing? Not quite. But there was regret in it, undeniably.

"It seems I was wrong. Boy — you are a worthy warrior after all. That willingness to stake everything without reservation is, without question, something magnificent. But this is where it ends."

Stark stared toward Rivale with unfocused eyes, his lips parting as if he had something to say — but instantly, blood welling up from his throat stopped the words before they could form.

The sensation of suffocating pressed in, wave after wave. Even if Rivale never raised his weapon, Stark would soon choke to death on his own blood.

So this really was… as far as he could go.

Slowly, Stark closed his eyes.

"It worked?!"

Fern couldn't help but feel a surge of joy as she watched her magic successfully pierce through Heiter's shoulder.

She had lost track of how long she'd been fighting him — but she couldn't deny that she was enjoying every second of it.

Fern knew she wasn't the type to be especially passionate about combat. People had always praised her talent, but what she called "training" had never been anything more than answering the expectations others placed on her.

Mr. Heiter, who had taken her in, told her she had a gift for magic and hoped she would walk that path — so she learned magic. Ms. Frieren, and then Fíliya, and Ms. Serie had all said the same thing about her talent… and more recently, Ms. Flamme, Ms. Frieren's own master, had praised her a few times as well.

So she really did have talent, didn't she?

And that last move — that was the proof of it. The fulfillment of her gift, and of everyone's faith in her.

"Well done… Fern."

"…?!"

Fern startled again, then hurriedly cast a dispersal spell she'd only recently learned, clearing away the smoke and dust that her magic had kicked up.

She looked at the figure slumped on the ground — and her eyes trembled, just slightly.

Why…?

Fern didn't understand the mechanics of it, but that didn't stop the wild hope blooming in her chest. After that long war of attrition, and the powerful strike just now — the grip of whatever was controlling her foster father, Heiter, seemed to have actually weakened?

No… wait — not quite —

She'd just started to move toward him when she saw him immediately raise his staff again.

"Oh my… it seems I'm not fully free after all." Heiter said, though the corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied smile as he watched Fern dodge his attack. "But this much is enough. If I can just recover even a little of my awareness… any curse, no matter its nature, can be undone."

And then the holy scripture in his hand began to radiate a pure, clean light — that gentle glow wrapping itself around him completely.

About a minute later, Heiter stepped out of the light, entirely unharmed.

Fern stared at what had just happened, barely able to believe it.

Heiter had indeed broken free of the control entirely — and his injuries had been healed along with it, without a trace remaining.

"You've grown up, Fern."

Heiter murmured softly, looking at her as she stood there, still slightly dazed.

"Are you… really Mr. Heiter? This isn't… some illusion Fíliya conjured up, is it?"

Fern murmured.

"Hmm… that's possible, you know. That girl who brought me back has grown to an unfathomable level of power… perhaps I really am nothing more than a phantom she generated, and I simply can't tell?"

Heiter narrowed his eyes, pinched his chin thoughtfully, and delivered this analysis with every appearance of sincerity — but then almost immediately, his expression shifted back into that familiar gentle smile, and he opened his arms wide toward Fern.

"…"

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Fern understood perfectly what that meant. She rubbed her eyes once — and then threw herself into his arms.

"I missed you so much…"

"Mm. Me too." Heiter said. "Though it's a rather awkward thing for a dead man to admit — but I really did wish I could have lived just a little longer. At least long enough to see Fern grow up… but no matter how many times I combed through the holy scripture, I couldn't find any way to extend a life."

Those words brought a flood of memories rushing back to Fern.

She remembered it clearly — how Heiter, growing thinner by the day, had pushed through despite her and Frieren's pleas, forcing himself up time and again to pour over book after book.

So… that was what he'd been doing. Searching for a way to live longer.

He had seemed so completely unbothered by it all — as if life and death meant nothing to him.

"Oh — that reminds me, Fern."

Suddenly, Heiter seemed to remember something. He gently pushed Fern back a little from his embrace, his expression turning slightly sheepish.

"Mm?"

Fern tilted her head questioningly.

"Well… do you happen to have any wine? I was fine at first when I came to, but it hasn't been long and I'm already feeling the craving come back… My greatest regret when I died was not getting that last sip. The bottle was right there beside me, but by then the pain was so bad I couldn't swallow anymore…"

Fern's eyes went wide. She stood frozen in place as if she'd been hit with a petrification spell.

"You… didn't you just say your greatest regret was not being able to watch me grow up?"

Fern said, her cheek twitching slightly.

"Ah, but those are different things. Not being able to watch you grow up, and not getting that last drink — both of those are my greatest regrets."

Heiter said, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

Fern was, once again, speechless. The thought that her place in his heart had been equated with something as inexplicable as wine made her blood boil just a little.

But… at least one thing was certain now.

The man standing before her was, without any doubt, her genuine foster father — the hopeless drunkard monk, Mr. Heiter.

"You are… completely beyond saving."

In the end, Fern could only shake her head at him with a helpless, rueful smile.

"Well, I was never much of a reliable adult… but funny how an unreliable adult like me managed to raise such a remarkably dependable child."

Heiter continued to look at Fern with that same tender expression.

"Flattery won't work on me, you know. I'm not conjuring wine for you — not until we're outside, at least."

Fern gave him a sidelong look.

"Is that so… outside, huh."

At those words, Heiter's expression grew quietly subdued.

"Mm?"

Fern caught it immediately and pressed him at once. "What's wrong?"

"I was just… thinking about what that green-haired, golden-eyed girl said."

Green hair. Golden eyes.

That had to be Fíliya. What had Fíliya said? Fern's ears sharpened.

"This space… cannot be broken from the outside. Getting out is simple enough, in theory — you just have to reduce the number of living beings inside it to one."

"…"

Fern's eyes went wide again — but this time, she was genuinely shaken.

"In other words… Fern, you have to kill me in order to leave this place."

Heiter's expression was perfectly calm. He looked like a man who had long since made his peace with that conclusion.

"…I don't believe it."

Fern's brow furrowed, and she shot back sharply.

She truly didn't believe it. She refused to believe that Fíliya would trap her in a situation with no way out.

"But it's the truth…"

Heiter continued, pressing her gently toward the decision.

"Will you please be quiet!"

Fern's voice spiked sharply — startling Heiter — but then, just as quickly, his expression warmed with a quiet pride.

His child, Fern, had truly grown into someone who could stand on her own.

The silence between them stretched on for several minutes. But in the end, Fern slowly sank to her knees on the ground, saying nothing at all.

"Tell me about everything that's happened since then, Fern… Where did you and Frieren go? What adventures did you have?"

Heiter settled down beside her, shifting close.

"I'm not telling you."

Fern kept her jaw clenched and her gaze fixed somewhere else entirely — she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

The reason she didn't want to talk was simple enough.

The moment she finished telling him everything… he'd probably ask her to kill him, wouldn't he?

"Is that so… you know, Fern, I already have a pretty good idea even without you telling me."

Heiter's voice made Fern instinctively turn her head — but the moment she met those smugly pleased eyes, she seemed to catch herself, and turned sharply away again.

"Mm… that girl with the green hair and golden eyes filled me in on quite a bit, actually. I hear you've even got someone you're sweet on? I'll have to take a good look at whatever scruffy young man thinks he's good enough for my Fern."

As he said it, Heiter's tone shifted instantly into something that sounded exactly like every overprotective father in the world.

But Fern had absolutely no energy for this conversation. She was too busy stewing in her own misery, cursing Fíliya inwardly — why would she do this to her?

To finally be reunited with the person she'd longed for more than anyone… and then be told she had to destroy it all with her own hands just to escape this place?

What kind of cruel joke was that?

Fern almost regretted it. She never should have won that fight — it would've been easier to just let Heiter cut her down.

"This standoff can't go on forever, Fern."

When Fern refused to respond for a long stretch, Heiter let out a quiet, resigned sigh and changed the subject.

"That young man named Stark… it seems like he's in danger too. Don't you want to go help him?"

Stark… right. Mr. Stark was probably facing something just as dire as she was.

I need to get to him — fast. But…

The frustration churning in Fern's chest grew more and more unbearable, but no matter how she turned it over, she couldn't make herself choose between the two.

"No. There has to be another way."

Fern drew a slow, steadying breath — then rose to her feet and began to study her surroundings.

"…Fern?"

Heiter watched as she paced back and forth, pressing her hands against the invisible walls with a distant, distracted look in her eyes. His heart clenched. He very nearly reached out with a healing spell to ease whatever mental strain was overwhelming her.

In his eyes, Fern looked completely at a loss — clearly shaken by the shock of it all.

"Please don't waste your mana. I'm perfectly clear-headed right now."

Fern had sensed the mana stir, but didn't look back — her attention stayed fixed on the spatial barriers that held her trapped.

Heiter blinked, mildly surprised, and let the spell dissolve. His curiosity immediately turned toward what she was actually doing.

So he'd misread her out of worry, had he?

He watched the focused, unshakeable expression on her face — and found himself quietly moved.

The things an old man like him couldn't imagine… were they always going to be left to the young?

That refusal to give up even in a dead end — that ability to give others something to believe in — it was so achingly familiar. She reminded him of Himmel, back in those days.

…Truly, she is my child.

"In the world of magic, nothing is absolute… even a barrier Fíliya set up cannot defy that truth."

After a long and thorough exploration, Fern seemed to find something. She turned around, a quiet smile of confidence on her face.

"In this world… there is simply no such thing as something that cannot be broken."

She said it lightly — then immediately poured her mana into the [flaw] she had found.

Faced with an impossible choice, Fern's answer was this:

I'll take both.

With a sharp crack — like shattering glass — the space that had imprisoned Fern and Heiter collapsed all at once.

"There."

The moment she returned to Heiter's side, Fern spoke without hesitation.

Ahead of them, scattered through the darkness, were a dozen or so points of light — each one seemingly a marker leading somewhere different.

But how had Fern chosen so quickly, and with such certainty?

Heiter looked at her, curious.

"A gut feeling."

That was all Fern said.

"A gut feeling… how remarkably familiar."

Heiter shook his head, smiling to himself.

"Hm? Familiar how?"

"Mm… back then, Himmel and Frieren both loved to use that exact excuse. Whenever they were completely lost and just picked a direction at random, they'd say 'a gut feeling' — and yet somehow, every single time, they'd end up exactly where they needed to be."

"Well, doesn't that just prove that gut feelings work?"

Fern smiled back at her foster father.

"Mm… I suppose it does."

And so, without another word between them, the two shot toward the point of light that had spoken to Fern's gut.

Just as Rivale's axe was about to fall — a swift, precise, condensed burst of Ordinary Attack Magic struck him squarely in the face at almost the exact same instant.

"What?!"

Rivale recoiled in surprise. He knew that black, thread-like magic — of course he did. It was a beam of far greater power than the pure white variant, a piercing attack that cut straight through defenses.

It was exactly this kind of strike that had wounded him before.

Forced to break off the execution, he redirected the force of his martial technique to neutralize the spell.

When the dust and smoke cleared, Stark had already been pulled away by Fern.

"Mr. Heiter… how is he?"

Now that they were out of their private space, calling him 'Father' somehow didn't quite make it to her lips.

"He's running on fumes… how on earth did this child push himself to such a state."

Stark's mouth was frothing with a slow, bubbling stream of blood. He seemed dimly aware of something, but was clearly in no condition to respond.

"Can you save him?"

Fern asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

"Hmph… I am the monk of the hero's party. As long as this boy hasn't fully crossed over, I can pull his soul back."

"Please… I'm counting on you."

The tension drained from Fern's shoulders the moment she heard those words — relief washing over her, along with the quiet gratitude of having made it in time.

"Mm. I'll restore his vitality right away… but that man over there is going to be a problem."

Heiter's gaze drifted to Rivale not far away, and a shadow of unease crossed his face.

A demon this powerful… even throughout all those years of adventuring, only the Demon King himself had carried a more overwhelming presence than this.

"I'll… hold him off."

Her own heart was far from steady — but in that moment, Fern planted her feet, raised her staff without flinching, and stepped in front of Rivale.

When would he make his move?

Fern kept her eyes locked on Rivale's every motion — but Rivale only looked back at her with an expression of genuine, unhurried interest.

"Now this is something. To actually breach the Demon King's barrier… is this the potential of humankind?"

"…Aren't you going to attack?"

Fern's brow furrowed slightly, and she kept one eye on Heiter out of the corner of her vision. If Rivale wanted to talk, she was more than willing to oblige.

After all, every second she could stall was another second of treatment for Stark.

"Relax, little one. I have no intention of interrupting your healing. On the contrary — I'm asking you to hurry up and get that young man back on his feet. Only then… will things get truly entertaining."

…I see.

Fern lowered her staff — then turned without hesitation and walked to Stark's side, her back to Rivale, completely unguarded.

She had crossed paths with many demons alongside Ms. Frieren over the years.

But of all of them, only Rivale could be called one with genuine integrity.

So Fern chose to take him at his word.

Under Rivale's silent, watchful gaze, Heiter quickly reversed Stark's near-death state. By the time he was fully restored, aside from the white that had crept into his hair — which no magic could undo — he looked completely whole again.

"Your hair."

Fern reached out and caught a few strands of his white hair between her fingers, something sad flickering in her eyes.

"…What happened? Why has it gone white?"

Stark seemed to only just be noticing.

"If Fíliya sees this, your nickname's probably going to change from 'Fresh Tomato' to 'Moldy Tomato.'"

Fern looked at him and shook her head.

"Is that so… well, at least I'd have to make it to her face before I'd ever hear something like that."

Stark gave her only a brief reply — then immediately turned to face Rivale, settling into a combat stance.

His dearest wish, of course, was to take Rivale down alone. He'd already given that everything he had.

But he'd failed. And though he had no idea how Fern — or this strange older man — had managed to come to his aid, Stark wasn't about to say something as irresponsible as "let me fight him one-on-one" at a moment like this.

"I apologize… I can't beat you on my own. So we're going to gang up on you now."

Stark said it plainly, eyes fixed on Rivale.

As Stark settled into his stance, Fern and Heiter moved into position without a word.

"No matter. Did I not say so? Whether it's two against one or three against one, carry no guilt over the numbers. All I have ever sought is a fight to the death where I can give everything I have — I've never set a limit on how many can come."

Rivale looked at the three of them — and at last, truly began to prepare himself to fight at full strength.

"Is that so… You are, without question, formidably strong. So we will meet that pride of yours with everything we've got!"

The moment Fern's words fell, the three of them — fighting together for the very first time — unleashed a perfectly coordinated assault as if they'd trained side by side for years.

"…Then show me the full measure of human potential!"

Rivale answered with his own counter.

Time passed — how much, it was impossible to say.

In the space that had been shaped by that battle to the death, the three human silhouettes were gone.

Only a single set of unhurried footsteps rang out, crisp and clear, breaking the dead silence.

The God of War of the Demon Race — Rivale — lay on the ground, and tilted his head, trying to identify the approaching figure by sound alone.

"…My Demon King."

Fíliya came to a slow stop before him, regarding him with an utterly calm gaze.

"Was it to your satisfaction?"

"Satisfaction… more than I could have hoped for."

"And yet you lost."

"When will the Demon King understand — for someone like me, winning and losing was never what mattered."

"I see…"

Fíliya looked on as Rivale's body slowly began to turn to ash and fade.

If she hadn't transported the victorious three away and suspended time in this place, he would have dissolved long ago.

But even so, she had only delayed the pace of his death. His end remained inevitable.

Under normal circumstances, that would be that… except the current Demon King possessed the power to reverse endings.

"I will ask you only once: do you still have the will to live? It is not too late. I can reverse your death."

"No. Let it end here. If I don't die… then that young man's revenge becomes a joke, doesn't it."

Rivale gave a quiet, easy laugh.

"Is that all? No other reason?"

Fíliya rested her chin in her hands and slowly lowered herself to sit before him.

"Mm. If you're asking — yes, there is one more."

Rivale opened his hollow eye sockets. Whether his eyes had been destroyed in the battle or had already crumbled to ash as death drew near, there was nothing left inside them.

"Then say it."

Looking at this dying God of War, Fíliya, for once, offered him a rare measure of patience.

"The real reason — the biggest one — is simply this: the world you intend to create, my Demon King… fills me with absolute revulsion. This is my most sincere, heartfelt contempt."

"Demons have no need of order. For a warrior like me, a world where one cannot kill freely is nothing short of hell."

Fíliya raised an eyebrow slightly as she listened.

"So you never agreed with my vision… then why did you serve me all the same?"

"Because you defeated me. I simply honored my word. You beat me as a warrior should be beaten — and I offered my loyalty in return. That is all a demon's allegiance has ever been."

"I see."

Fíliya nodded — then slowly rose to her feet.

"One last request."

Rivale turned his head toward her. Though there was nothing left in his eye sockets, he still found her by instinct alone.

"Mm."

Fíliya nodded, indicating she would hear it.

"Even if you one day find a way to resurrect demons, my Demon King… I ask that you never, under any circumstances, bring me back. Never."

"You despise my world that much?"

"Of course. I could not survive in such a hell."

"Understood."

Fíliya nodded once more — and slowly gathered a mass of black light in her hand.

"This magic will erase your existence entirely. If you are killed by it, there will be no possibility of resurrection — any means, by anyone. Is that acceptable?"

"Is that so… to die beneath a spell like that… I am truly honored."

"No…" Fíliya cut him off. "The honor is mine."

"…"

Rivale was clearly puzzled.

"Though your ideals and mine are complete opposites — you are, without question, someone worthy of respect. I never imagined I would find something so noble and so pure in a demon."

"Go well."

And with those words, Fíliya sent Rivale on his final journey — with her Magic to Disintegrate All Things.

"Where am I…"

The moment Fern opened her eyes, she realized she was back inside the Demon King's Castle.

Not only that — every drop of mana she had spent, every ounce of physical exhaustion, even her wounds, had been perfectly restored.

Mr. Heiter? No — Mr. Heiter couldn't have replenished her mana as well, and besides, he had been badly wounded himself by the end.

It had been a brutal, grueling battle. All three of them had been brought to the edge of death, and Rivale's body had been ravaged beyond recognition. Only when she finally saw him beginning to dissolve did Fern allow herself to close her eyes with a quiet, shuddering breath of relief.

"Fern — are you all right?"

At the sound of that familiar voice, Fern spun around at once — and blinked in surprise. Scattered not far from where she stood were a number of faces she knew, lying here and there across the floor.

"Frieren… and Lady Flamme."

The moment she spotted them, the tension in Fern's chest loosened considerably.

"Looks like the three of us were first to wake up… but what's going on with Kraft?" Frieren tilted her head, studying the still-unconscious elven warrior monk with a faint look of puzzlement. "Did Fíliya give him special treatment or something? We fought the Demon King all over again — is there anything harder than that?"

"Fíliya split us apart… placed each of us in a different space and gave us different trials," Fern said slowly.

"That does seem to be the case. There's plenty about that experience I'd love to discuss with you both — but there are more pressing things right now." Flamme glanced around at the people still stirring on the ground.

One by one, others were beginning to wake. Himmel, Eisen, and Heiter pushed themselves upright at almost the same moment. They looked at each other — and all three broke into quiet smiles.

"Eisen… you've gotten so old. Your muscles are nothing like they used to be. Can you even fight anymore?"

Heiter's eyes gleamed with unmistakable mockery.

"When you died, I guarantee you were skinnier than I am now. And where's your wine? Don't tell me you couldn't even get one last drink in before you went."

Eisen shot back without missing a beat.

"To think… we'd be reunited like this." Himmel's expression was deeply moved. He rose to his feet almost immediately and walked over to Frieren's side. "Frieren — do you remember the Hero's Sword?"

"Hm? Of course I do. You couldn't pull it out back then," Frieren answered immediately, a little puzzled as to why Himmel was suddenly bringing up that sword — the one no one had ever managed to draw.

"Well… I was just thinking, maybe you should give it a try. You might be able to pull it out."

"What? I'm a mage. What are you talking about."

Frieren blinked.

"Because the way you fought just now… you looked more like a true Hero than I ever did. You were the one who led us to defeat the Demon King again."

"…I've just had a few extra decades of practice. Magic has advanced by leaps and bounds in that time," Frieren said, turning her head away with an expression that was just slightly flustered.

"Is that so… magic really is something else, isn't it." Himmel nodded to himself, looking thoughtful.

A chorus of coughs cut their conversation short.

"All right — this is the final stretch. Frieren, that goes for you too. Focus." Flamme looked at the two of them with mild exasperation, then reached out and flicked Frieren lightly on the tip of her nose — which had the immediate effect of snapping Frieren back to attention.

"Mm… fair enough. So what do we do now? We've made it out of that space, but… we still haven't been able to reach Fíliya."

"Well — knowing that child's personality, what do you think she'd do?" Flamme asked lightly, tossing the question back to Frieren.

"…Oh… I see."

Frieren's expression shifted to one of quiet understanding. She looked around the room — and when her gaze landed on a certain demon, her brow furrowed at once.

Macht was among those still unconscious. What kind of trial could Fíliya possibly put a demon through…?

Well. Either way, for now — they'd wait for everyone to wake up.

Fíliya was surely waiting for that exact moment, too.

Some time later, every last one of those sleeping figures finally stirred and stood.

After a brief exchange, Frieren noticed something was wrong.

Someone was missing.

Sense… and Edel, the one who specialized in mind-magic.

Why hadn't those two appeared here?

Frieren was deeply puzzled — but she had no more time to dwell on it.

An invisible pressure flooded the entire Demon King's Castle in an instant, making every heart in the room skip half a beat at once.

...…

In a world of absolute darkness, Sense took one look at the figure standing before her and immediately dropped into a combat stance.

"Are you going to try and stop me?"

Sense fixed her cold gaze on Solitär.

"Obviously. I'm not letting you anywhere near her."

Solitär's eyes were equally cold.

"I have to get to her side…"

"Funny — I have to stop you from doing exactly that."

"It seems there's nothing left for us to say to each other."

"There isn't. The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew a moment like this would come. But you've grown considerably stronger since then… is that what comes of taking the God of Magic as your master?"

"…Killing you would probably make Fíliya sad."

"At this point, do you really have the luxury of caring about that? And you'd better pray — that you don't make it too easy for me to kill you."

Solitär bared a cold, fierce grin and launched the first attack.

...Inside the Demon King's Castle.

"Looks like everyone's gathered," Fíliya said — and in an instant, she had appeared on the throne atop the high dais, gazing down at the crowd below with a calm, unhurried expression.

Everyone?

Obviously Sense wasn't here. Was Fíliya doing that deliberately? She couldn't have missed it…

"Fíliya — stop this."

Frieren pushed down the questions rising in her chest and stepped forward, holding Fíliya's gaze directly.

"Oh? Is this your answer?"

Fíliya let out a cold, quiet laugh.

"…No. This isn't an answer to anything. It's a personal request. I know you don't hate this world — and you don't hate humanity either. So please… let it end here. Before things reach a point that can't be undone."

Frieren spoke slowly, steadily — without ever lowering her staff.

Her feelings toward Fíliya were, without question, complicated.

Perhaps not unlike the way Fíliya herself had once defined their relationship.

She and Fíliya were, unmistakably, genuine frenemies.

Frieren was grateful for everything Fíliya had done — whatever her reasons, it was thanks to her that Himmel, Flamme, and Heiter had all been able to return to this world.

But gratitude was gratitude. If Fíliya remained set on this path, Frieren would still throw everything she had into stopping her.

"Awfully bold of you. Do you really think you and I are that close?"

Fíliya rose slowly from the throne, looking down at Frieren with contempt.

"It seems I've wasted far too much pointless mercy — and given you all far too many foolish illusions. Did you think this was just a painless little game of make-believe? How disappointing. Then let me… be the first to shatter those illusions."

The moment the words left Fíliya's mouth, she unleashed a volley of beams — blazing toward several targets in the crowd with terrifying speed.

The attack came with no warning, no windup, no telegraphing — and it genuinely caught Frieren off guard.

Just as Fíliya had said — Frieren had been holding onto illusions. Because up until this very moment, Fíliya had never actually hurt anyone.

But this time… it was different. It felt different.

Ordinary Attack Magic was already the fastest-travelling magic in the modern repertoire. And yet the beams Fíliya had just fired were even faster.

Not enough time…

Frieren could only watch in helpless despair as those attacks closed in.

Just as she'd feared.

Fern — how was that child supposed to react to a surprise attack that even Frieren herself had barely clocked?

The world seemed to slow to a crawl before Frieren's eyes. She could see Flamme moving — and Himmel's reflexes were sharper than hers, already closing in on Fern. But still not fast enough.

Macht?

Frieren's breath caught. The demon she'd been keeping a wary eye on this entire time was actually trying to shield Fern.

Gold Transformation Magic (Di Agolze) was already activating — that was Macht's advantage. His magic, too, required no windup at all.

But it still wasn't going to be enough. The gold had already crept up to Fern's knees, but covering her entire body was still a long way off — and before it could, Fíliya's attack would reach Fern and kill her.

And it wasn't just Fern. There was another girl in the room who had also been marked by Fíliya's strike.

Miss Ehre.

The girl caught in Fíliya's crosshairs wore the same blank, frozen expression on her face.

Naturally. Just as Fíliya had said — everything she had done up to now had given everyone too many illusions. So when the attack came, neither of these two girls had been able to react at all.

So it had all… just been wishful thinking on their part?

Frieren squeezed her eyes shut in despair.

But at that razor-thin instant — a massive surge of mana came crashing into the castle from outside.

This was the first time Frieren had ever witnessed it. Serie — with her power completely unleashed.

The pillar of mana wreathing Serie's body had taken on the density of something physical, its reach extending so far that no edge could be seen.

The two girls who'd been too close for anyone nearby to protect — Serie had saved them both from miles away, without so much as a scratch.

"Oh? The turtle pokes her head out just in time… Serie, did you spend any time studying the gift I sent you?"

Fíliya's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile.

Serie had no interest in conversation. She fired directly at Fíliya — a beam of absolute, world-ending black.

Magic to Disintegrate All Things.

Fíliya managed to dodge the black beam of annihilation — but even watching it from a distance, Serie felt something loosen in her chest. A quiet relief.

At least one thing was now confirmed.

Magic to Disintegrate All Things was an attack that not even the Demon King herself could afford to ignore.

The beam erased Fíliya's throne — and every wall behind it — reducing them all to nothing.

Sunlight poured into the space, and with it, something poured into the hearts of everyone present.

There was no denying it. Serie's arrival had given them all something to hold onto.

"Good… so you've mastered it. That's exactly how it should be. Without a genuine threat, it can't be called a battle."

Fíliya's silhouette reappeared, still looking down at them all from above.

"Then what comes next… is a battle that transcends legend and reaches into myth."

"Oh, you're awake."

That familiar, slightly impish voice made Frieren freeze.

The moment her vision snapped back into focus, she lunged — face twisted with fury — and fired a spell straight at her.

Fíliya flicked her wrist lazily and deflected it without a second thought.

"Still in battle-frenzy mode? Go ahead and rest a little longer, then."

Fíliya laughed softly.

Frieren stood there, bewildered. Maybe it was the sheer whiplash of it, or maybe she was simply too stunned — either way, she couldn't quite get her bearings.

"Honestly. Look around you."

At Fíliya's prompting, Frieren turned her head in a daze.

And there they were — her beloved student, her companions — Fern, Stark, Heiter, Eisen, Flamme… and Himmel.

Every single person Fíliya had killed. All of them, whole and unharmed, scattered nearby, breathing slow and steady.

The reason she had struck out the instant she saw Fíliya was because of everything she had endured before that moment. Starting with such hopeful expectation — then watching, with her own eyes, as everyone she cherished was cut down by Fíliya without effort.

No matter how complicated her feelings toward Fíliya had been, in the end, they had curdled into nothing but hatred.

And yet… she had been fooled after all.

"What exactly… are you playing at."

Frieren clearly hadn't fully pulled herself out of that state, so the words came out sharp and cold.

"Simple. Everything that happened was real — I just reversed all the deaths back to before they occurred. Easy enough to understand, right?"

Frieren let out a slow sigh.

"What about Serie."

"Ah, her situation is… not great. The vast majority of my attacks — she took them all on your behalf. Without her, I would have wiped you all out in an instant."

"So putting her back together… even for me, that's probably going to take a few years. Either way, I've already taken her in and kept her safe."

"Your exam, then. What exactly is the answer you wanted."

Frieren's mood seemed to have settled, at least a little. Some warmth had crept back into her voice.

"You know, don't you think using something like 'immortality' as an exam question is actually rather underhanded?"

Fíliya said it with an easy smile.

"It's like flinging open the doors of your own vault and announcing to the crowd that anyone can walk in and take whatever they want… but then, once they actually rush in and grab the gold and jewels, turning around and saying, 'See? This is how greedy and contemptible human nature truly is.'"

"Fair point. Knowing full well that longevity and immortality are temptations humans can barely resist — and still dangling them in the human world to stir up chaos. You're at least self-aware enough to know how low that is."

Frieren nodded in genuine agreement.

"Mm, so you all did well. When the question is unreasonable from the start, the right move is to turn in a blank sheet — and then band together and beat the examiner bloody. It's just a shame… that you couldn't quite pull it off."

Fíliya said it with a widening smile, and it was plain to see how deeply satisfied she was with the outcome.

"So what you were after was… that one moment, just now. Without some dramatic provocation, none of you would have steeled yourselves to actually come after me, would you? My goal, from beginning to end, was straightforward — I never hid it. Or did you get it into your head that I had some grand, world-shaking scheme?"

"I simply wanted every top-tier fighter on the continent to gather in one place and face me in a real battle. That's also why I chose to kill Fern first — if I couldn't make you furious, I'd never see any of you at full strength."

"Oh, shut up — you — you…!"

Frieren shot to her feet, fury blazing, and crossed the distance to Fíliya in three strides.

"Me?"

Fíliya kept that same unrepentant grin.

"You absolute wretch!"

She'd been holding back for so long — but in the end, Frieren couldn't find anything worse to say than that.

Instead, she slowly lowered her head and rested it against Fíliya's shoulder.

"It's… completely over now, right?"

"Yes. I promise — it's over. I'm sorry for the mess I caused."

Frieren drew a long breath, then continued.

"So. What happens now."

"Well… I'm thinking of severing the northern landmass from the rest of the continent, and sealing the Demon Race off from the human world for a few centuries or so. As for the human world — there'll probably be legends left behind about 'the great battle that split the earth and divided the seas.'"

"As for what happens to the human world after that — I couldn't care less, honestly. I'll leave you 'heroes who defeated the Demon King' to clean up the rest of the mess."

"Us?"

Frieren blinked.

"Of course. You have the renown of having defeated the Demon King, you're the finest warriors the human world has to offer, and you've proven you can resist even the temptation of immortality. With people like you guiding the human world… you'll bring at least a century or two of peace, surely."

"The world will belong entirely to humanity. Going forward, there will be no more Demon Kings, no more heroes — and no more God of Magic."

Frieren blinked slowly, head a little blank, feeling the sheer weight of information settling over her.

But Fíliya wasn't finished.

"As for the people I brought back — consider it my apology. But Frieren, mark my words: second chances do exist, but I'll only ever give one. I have no intention of being some all-purpose wishing machine, so if anyone is foolish enough to squander even a second chance, all I can do is laugh at them from afar."

"…Thank you."

Frieren breathed in slowly. She understood exactly what Fíliya meant.

"Speaking of which — Himmel is really something else. Stubborn as a mule. When I brought him back, I asked if he'd like to become a demon — that way he wouldn't have to worry about his lifespan anymore. But that man just bristled like a cornered dog and had the nerve to draw his sword at me."

"So then I asked if he'd rather become an elf… but after a few seconds of hesitation, he shook his head again. Do you know what he said?"

"…I don't."

"He said a second chance was enough. Can you believe it — this fool, turning down immortality freely offered by a god. Truly one of a kind. So —"

"So?"

Frieren blinked vacantly.

"So when that man dies of old age for the second time, make sure you call me. I simply must see the look on his face when he regrets it."

"You… are you really that petty."

Frieren shook her head, exasperated.

"Alright, that's enough talk."

Fíliya reached out and lightly tapped Frieren's forehead with one finger. Frieren crumpled to the ground at once, falling into unconsciousness.

At that moment, a figure approached from behind. Two arms wrapped slowly around Fíliya's neck, and a chin came to rest on top of her head.

"What are you doing…"

Fíliya looked at her with mild exasperation.

"A reward… for a good girl who kept her promise?"

Solitär laughed quietly.

"That doesn't count as a reward."

Fíliya fixed her with a peculiar look.

"Then what do you want?"

"Hmm… I'll have to think carefully about that. By the way — between you and Sense, who actually won?"

Fíliya asked suddenly.

"Hm? If you're curious, you can look for yourself."

Solitär pressed an index finger to her own temple, silently inviting Fíliya to read her memories.

"Tch. Fine, don't tell me then."

Fíliya pouted like a sulking child.

Then she heard it — a quiet set of footsteps.

She rose and turned toward the sound.

Sense stood there, watching her with an unreadable, complicated expression.

"I'm sorry… it was my idea to have Solitär hold you back."

Fíliya hastened to explain.

Sense said nothing. She had heard the entire conversation between Fíliya and Frieren from where she stood.

The reason Fíliya had kept her away from it all… wasn't hard to understand.

Even with the power to reverse death — Fíliya still hadn't wanted her anywhere near the danger?

Sense grasped it instantly, and the feeling it stirred inside her grew all the more tangled and difficult to name.

"In the end… I didn't manage to do anything at all."

Sense exhaled softly.

"Well… you'll have plenty to do very soon."

Fíliya stepped toward her quickly.

"Hm?"

Sense looked up, curiosity and anticipation both visible in her eyes.

"You know how I am — if no one's watching, I tend to cause trouble. So… will you stay here with me, Sense?"

Sense's eyes went slightly wide. She knew, of course, exactly what those words meant.

So what would she choose?

Hesitation? Impossible. For Sense, there had never been any other possibility.

"I will."