Fifty years after the Demon King's defeat.
In the mountainous region of the Southern Countries.
We trudge silently along the rugged mountain path. Clothes tattered, bodies scratched, breaths heavy, limbs leaden. My legs feel like sticks, but I can't complain. I'm not alone.
Behind me, dozens from our village—elders, women, children—push on just as desperately.
We're fleeing. From our country. Our home.
When did the war in the south begin? It started when Hero Himmel slew the Demon King, bringing peace. We rejoiced, but it was fleeting. Human wars replaced demon ones. Just a change of foe.
Our men were conscripted, most never returned. Our country fell, our village occupied, ravaged. We lived like slaves. My grandmother once said war with demons was better. To escape, to live, we pinned our hopes here.
"Mom… I'm hungry."
"Hold on, Rosa…"
My daughter clings to my hand. We've nearly run out of food, taken by the enemy. It's a miracle she's endured this far, carried at times, yet still walking. Everyone's the same—kids her age, elders like my grandparents. We're past our limits, marching relentlessly, pursued, possibly by the enemy. We must reach our destination soon.
The rumored Garden, a place of peace, freedom, equality.
For six months, whispers of a village accepting refugees and orphans spread. Protected by the Goddess, free of conflict. A fairy tale, but we're desperate enough to believe. Clinging to hope, or we'll perish.
"There…"
At the mountain's peak, a village appears. It must be the Garden. Hope rises, but—
"Stop. Don't move."
Despair crushes it.
"Who are you…?"
Soldiers in helmets and armor—our enemy's forces—block us. An ambush or pursuit?
"You know why you're hunted. Don't resist."
My voice trembles. I clutch Rosa. Everyone's frozen. We made it this far, yet… Have we been abandoned by the Goddess?
"Please, let us go… We just want to reach that place," the village elder pleads.
But—
"No. You're fools, deceived by demons to come here."
Their words don't reach. Like speaking to demons. Worse, they reveal a shattering truth.
"Demons…?"
"You didn't know? Pathetic. That village is a demon stronghold. Their lies lured humans here. None returned—likely eaten."
The captain's disdain plunges us deeper into despair. It makes sense. A demon trap. We're prey, foolishly drawn in.
"No…"
"Go back. Don't waste our time. Your kind encourages more fools. No resistance."
Hearts break, exhaustion wins. People collapse, sobbing. The soldiers press harder. What did we do?
"Ow! Mama!"
"Stop, don't hurt her!"
A soldier grabs Rosa's arm, yanking her. I try to shield her, but I'm powerless against their strength. As despair peaks—
"What's going on here?"
A carefree voice, like someone on a stroll, echoes.
A child…? No, a demon!?
All eyes turn to her—a girl, maybe fourteen, in a dress unfit for the forest. Two horns mark her as a demon. The soldiers were right.
"Well, you came to us. Saves us trouble. Demon, right?"
The captain shifts focus to her. I hold Rosa, but nothing changes. Too many soldiers for a chase—maybe their real target was demons.
Outnumbered, over ten soldiers against one girl. Even for a demon—
"Yup, I'm a demon. What's everyone doing? Oh, no fighting! This is Aura-sama's territory. Violence is banned."
She glances at the soldiers, unconcerned, saying something absurd.
"Violence banned? What's your game, demon?"
"No lies! Aura-sama says lying's bad."
Her words stun us—soldiers and villagers alike. Does she understand language? Are all demons like this?
"Aura… The demon running this place?"
"Yup! The Scale, maybe? She's famous!"
She boasts like a child about her parent. The soldiers, confused, surround her with swords and spears. Her words spark a memory.
The Scale… Aura of the Scale?
I've heard rumors of a demon siding with humans in the central lands. As dubious as the Garden. Just gossip.
"So, what're you all doing? Here to see Aura-sama?"
"Just them. But we've got business with you—orders to exterminate you."
"Hmm… Pointless. We're neutral. Nobody's enemy, everyone's ally. Last warning: no violence. Aura-sama's rule. Break it, and it's scary."
Unfazed, she warns clumsily, mangling "neutral." Too absurd for a demon. A better lie would've worked.
"Captain, no issue. Weak magic from her."
"Good…"
A soldier, likely a mage, whispers, staff in hand. We shudder—staves scare us more than swords.
"No need to listen to demons. Kill her."
Zoltraak, the human-killing spell, is about to unleash. Known even to us, it's ravaged the south, used more on humans than demons. But—
"Nope, don't need that."
The girl severs the mage's arm and staff.
"What!?"
Whose cry? The mage falls, writhing, before casting. The girl holds a sword, unseen until now. Her movement was invisible, her demeanor unchanged.
"Gotta stop the bleeding, or he'll die."
"How did a third-rate mage lose to you!?"
"Third-rate? Weak. Bring a first-rate next time."
She critiques, bored. Third-rate mages should handle demons, yet she's stronger. In that cute form.
"Keep going? Better run. It's pointless."
"Don't mock us! That was our mistake!"
"Yeah, but… lying doesn't help here."
The soldiers don't waver, pride or arrogance driving them. Her appearance deceives them. She scratches her head, not worried about them but something else. As they charge—
"Finally! You're late. Made things messy."
She complains like scolding a tardy friend. Then it appears.
"A dragon…!?"
A massive dragon lands beside her, tamed, as she pets its head like a dog. Insane.
The soldiers falter, some collapse, others freeze. Human instinct—none can face a dragon.
"They're scared of you, not me. Weird, I'm stronger. Chase them off—the armed ones. No eating!"
She orders, annoyed. The dragon routs the soldiers effortlessly. Predators over prey. Yet, oddly, I feel no fear. Maybe we're already believers.
This was when Exception Linie-sama saved us—
"We're here! Welcome to the Garden. But remember, no violence!"
"Y-Yes…"
Linie-sama invites us with childlike purity. After hearing our plight, she cheerfully guided us. Hard to believe she fought for her life moments ago. Is she truly a demon? Rosa's already fond of her, partly for the apple, but also her innocence, free of malice. If this is deception, I surrender.
The village emerges. Many live here, mostly refugees like us, farming, crafting, building. Like any human village, though some buildings are ruins, being repaired. But their faces—calm, relieved, not ruled by fear or force. And—
"Wow! Pretty!"
"Amazing, right? Aura-sama's magic! The village loves it!"
A vibrant flower field blooms everywhere. Breathtaking colors, unfamiliar flowers. This is why it's called the Garden. Rosa's eyes sparkle.
Magic, once just a war tool, was meant for this. A demon teaches us that. When did we forget?
"Aura-sama! I brought new humans!"
Linie-sama enters a small church like it's home. We follow, nervous. The village's master, a demon, awaits.
A girl—or petite woman—stands there, similar in height to Linie-sama. Dressed plainly, like a villager, but with larger horns.
Aura-sama glances at us, book in hand, reading. Her aura feels cold, unreadable, eerie. Did we intrude?
"Right… Have them wait. Prepare things. Follow, Linie."
"Okay! Sit there, everyone. Won't take long!"
She closes her book, rises, and leaves. Linie follows, accustomed. The tension eases. Their exchange feels familiar, like parent and child, despite their similar looks.
Later, Aura-sama returns, but—
"Sorry for the wait. I'm Aura, a demon, as you see. I govern this village—like a mayor."
She's different, overwhelming, like an invisible force. A crimson robe enhances her presence, like a priest or cult leader. No, greater—a tangible power rivaling the Goddess. We're snakes before a dragon, or humans before a demon.
"No need to fear being eaten. Linie and I live on apples, not humans."
She sees through our fears, addressing them first. As if she anticipates our thoughts. We're too enthralled to doubt her deception.
"You've heard from Linie, but I'll explain. This village, the Garden, welcomes all—any age, race, origin."
Her words reveal the village's truth, already evident. A world humans couldn't create.
"You're free to leave if you dislike it. Stay as long as you want. No one forces you."
True freedom—choice without coercion. The right to live, stolen by war, exists here. A dream too perfect, terrifying. What must we offer?
"One rule: no violence. That's the absolute law here."
A simple truth, in every scripture, yet we fail to keep it. A demon, violence incarnate, enforces it. Our folly.
"Those who swear to it, I'll bind with magic. Are you ready to sell your soul to a demon?"
She produces a scale—not holy, but cursed. A relic, not scripture. She tests us, asking if we'll pledge our souls to a demon, not a goddess or devil.
"Only those who swear stay. The rest, leave."
No one leaves. We bow, submitting, praying. Who trusts the Goddess now? She did nothing. Linie-sama, a demon, saved us. Who trusts humans after betrayal? Better to be deceived by her.
"Fearless bunch. Fine. Stay still. I'll bind you."
Aura-sama, half-amused, half-exasperated, unleashes her scale's power.
"—Submission Magic Azeliese."
Light erupts, drawing orbs—our souls—from our chests. Now I understand selling our souls. They're weighed on her scale, against her single soul. It tips instantly to her, proving her godlike weight, no matter how many of us there are.
Not chains, but a blessing. We're reborn.
"You're now residents. The binding holds only here. Want to fight? Leave. No one stops you. Your freedom. No hierarchy here—equality."
She commands nothing more, granting freedom and equality. We must repay her. Others weep with joy, not sorrow. Overwhelmed, she says—
"Eat something. Linie, guide them."
She leaves. Her care shows she's not a god, but closer, empathetic.
"Got it, Aura-sama! This way, everyone!"
"Wait, big sister!"
Linie-sama leads us, Rosa following. I hurry after, but first—
"Thank you, Aura-sama."
I bow deeply, echoing everyone's gratitude.
"It's too early for thanks…"
She murmurs, troubled, but I can't grasp why. I just give thanks.
This is the neutral Garden, rumored in the Southern Countries.
The precursor to the demon nation Freesia of Affection, born after the Hero's death—
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