The villagers were doubtful of Ash's words. To them, it was hard to believe that this young man—who appeared suddenly, leading a horde of monsters and beasts to besiege their village—could really be what he claimed. How could this "human," mingling with demons, be a demon himself?
Indeed, in appearance Ash looked entirely human. He lacked the horns that marked most demons, making it nearly impossible for ordinary people to tell the difference. Unless one was a mage trained to sense demonic auras, distinguishing them was essentially impossible.
Ash was aware of this. It would have been far simpler to call himself human. But with Aura standing beside him, lying only to be exposed later and ruin any fragile trust seemed foolish. Better to be honest from the start. He spread his hands and said lightly:
"Don't judge by appearances. I am a demon. But we have no intention of killing anyone, so I hope you'll cooperate with us."
"You mean… cooperation?"
From the crowd, an old man—likely the village chief—stepped forward.
"Yes," Ash replied. "As long as you provide for us, we'll protect you from monsters and wild beasts. For people living by the edge of the forest, that's a good bargain, isn't it?"
"…Is that truly all?" The chief's voice trembled with doubt.
"You'll see for yourselves soon enough," Ash said. "But one thing—you may not leave here for other villages or larger settlements."
Explanations were less effective than proof. Instead of talking further, Ash simply imposed his own conditions, forcing the partnership into existence.
Led by the frightened villagers, Ash and Aura were taken to the finest house in the village. Before long, under the watchful eyes of the monsters, food was laid out before them.
On the table were rounds of cheese, loaves of bread, steaming bowls of milk soup. Roasted meat glistened with dripping fat, while the sweet aroma of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air.
The rich scents stirred their hunger mercilessly. Ash and Aura, who had grown up like wild children in the mountains, exchanged a glance—then both reached for the food at once, fighting over it with not a shred of restraint or sibling courtesy.
Poison was no concern. To demons, ordinary toxins were harmless. And even if some rare substance could affect them, no such poison could exist in a backwater village like this.
By the end of the meal, satiated and content, Aura decided to trust Ash's judgment fully. This village would be their home, at least for now.
At first, panic consumed the villagers. But as time passed, the presence of controlled beasts and monsters began to change their lives. Hunting in the mountains became safer, more successful. Injuries dwindled. Just as Ash had promised, the village was no longer under constant threat.
The monsters even helped with farmwork, speeding cultivation and clearing new fields.
In the winter of that first year, for the first time in memory, not a single villager starved to death.
Gratitude soon replaced fear. By the third year, the villagers even carved stone statues in Ash and Aura's likenesses, worshipping them as guardian deities. To avoid suspicion of heresy, however, they discreetly omitted Aura's horns.
With the villagers' support, Ash and Aura could devote themselves to studying magic, while eating well every day.
After the first year, Ash loosened the restrictions. The village chief and several volunteers who had accepted Aura's obedience magic were allowed to leave on errands. Bound by the spell, they could not betray Ash and Aura, nor disobey their orders. The only command was to kill themselves if they ever betrayed them. Otherwise, they lived much as before—just unable to turn against their new masters.
For the villagers, this was no burden at all. What was a little constraint compared to the guarantee of food, safety, and survival? In an age where famine haunted every winter and border villages often wasted away, such shackles were almost a blessing.
The kingdom itself was still at war with its neighbors. Taxes bled the people dry. Hunger and death stalked the countryside.
It was through this village that Ash slowly came to understand the world's structure. They were in the southern countries, far from the northern continent where the demons' stronghold lay. Here, demons were rare, their threat far weaker. But wars between human nations flared constantly, each hungry to devour the other yet unable to succeed.
From time to time, refugees stumbled in. Two of them, war orphans from distant lands, had taught Ash much about the world beyond.
"No matter which world it is, humans seem to love killing each other," Ash muttered one afternoon while practicing magic, staring over the wheat fields. Then he sighed and shook off such pointless thoughts.
The setting sun gilded the rippling wheat. Waves of gold swayed in the wind like an endless sea. It was so peaceful—so unlike the war-torn frontier they lived in—that the sight almost made one lazy.
Ash lay on the grass at the edge of the village, leaning against a tree trunk. He closed his eyes, content to nap.
But before sleep claimed him, a hesitant, elderly voice stirred him.
"Master Ash… it's nearly dinner. Lady Aura is still shut in her room. This is the third day now. Shouldn't you check on her?"
"It's fine. A demon won't starve in three days. She must be absorbed in her studies." Ash turned and found the village chief standing nearby, his expression torn with worry.
Ash found it oddly amusing—that humans, once so terrified, now fretted over the well-being of a demon. But then, it wasn't surprising. They had reached a strange symbiosis with the village. For now, neither side could do without the other.
Or more precisely—the humans could not do without Aura.