Thirteen years after the Demon King's defeat, in the Holy Capital Strack.
A serene yet solemn city, churches dotting its streets. As worship ends, people emerge—old, young, men, women—many clutching a scale-shaped accessory. In this world, the Goddess is most revered, her followers cherishing the cross. For them, the scale holds equal weight.
"Thank you, Aura-sama. May the scale's blessing be with you."
"Pray to the Goddess, not me. I've no blessings to give."
A female worshipper bows deeply; the petite priestess, Aura, responds wearily. An unusual sight in the Holy Capital—unthinkable to outsiders. Horns sprout from her head, marking her as a demon, not human. A demon revered in the Holy Capital.
"No, Aura-sama's scale carries a blessing. It's saved many."
"…Do as you like."
The Scale's Aura.
A paradox—demon yet preaching the Goddess's teachings, known to all in the Holy Capital.
"Great work, Aura. Another busy day. You're a lifesaver."
"Don't lecture me, you reeking monk."
The gathering ends, worshippers leave, but no respite. An irritating visitor arrives—Heiter, the flippant, shady priest. Without his vestments, he'd pass for a conman.
"Haha, harsh! But it's true. Since you came, followers and faith have grown. Aura-sama's a blessing. Might start a new religion."
"…You're as charming as ever."
His taunts ignore my sarcasm, goading me further. Himmel wouldn't stoop this low—Heiter's deliberate. Whose fault is this mess? Engaging him wastes time.
"So, the capital's mess—any progress? I'm tired of playing priestess."
"Sorry, should settle soon. Didn't expect this much trouble."
"Not fun for those dragged into it."
Slumping in a chair, I ask. Looks like I'm stuck with this farce longer.
I'm in the Holy Capital—not unusual, but different this time. The cause: the king's succession dispute. The aging king's health is failing, his two children vying for the throne. To a demon like me, it's baffling. Hereditary rule is absurd, wasteful. The issue? I'm caught in it—specifically, my obedience power. It's a cheat in power struggles. Both heirs tried to use me, bypassing Heiter, even storming the village. Himmel was there then, averting trouble, but he's not always around. So, I'm temporarily here under Heiter's protection. Infuriating, but necessary. The price? Playing priest and judging trials.
"Personally, you're a godsend. Your knowledge shames most priests. Why not stay with Linie and live here?"
"Spare me. No more babysitting drunks."
"Rude. Your magic's cut my drinking."
"Who do you think you are?"
How brazen. Staying here means getting roped into his drinking. Eisen's magic barely mitigates it. Hopeless. The locals' faith in me grows daily, unprompted. Dealing with it's exhausting. An eternal nightmare.
"Forget me. Aren't you and Himmel in deeper? Both sides want you."
"Sharp, Aura. True, but neither Himmel nor I will take sides. It'd spark pointless conflict."
No surprise. They're the hero party that felled the Demon King. Their influence is immense—perfect for securing the throne. But they're not interested, obviously.
"Then why not take over? Make Himmel king, start a nation. Skip the hassle."
I prod, recalling my first capital visit, meeting the king. Survival of the fittest—Himmel, the strongest human, should rule. Heiter could govern, problem solved.
"…You got me there. A demon teaching us human folly."
"Mocking me?"
"No, praise."
My words briefly startle him, but he recovers with his usual lip. Charming, indeed.
"You're right—some push for that. But we don't want power. Himmel's unfit for it."
"Agree. But you're trouble too. More power, and you'd make a drunkard's nation."
"Rude. Liquor's medicine. No sin in it."
"The sin's yours."
Fair point. Himmel's unfit, but Heiter with power? He'd ruin a nation with booze. His love for it is unmatched.
"How about you unite demon remnants, form a nation? It'd help us."
"Why should I? No gain for humans."
"A demon nation friendly to humans? We'd welcome it."
"What do you take me for?"
His counter-taunt—unite demons to serve humans. Absurd. No friendly demon nation exists; it'd cease being demonic. He's implying I'm that exception. Mocking me.
"Too far-fetched, sorry. Thought you might pull it off."
"Me, under obedience? Impossible."
"Right… over a decade now."
He knows it's absurd. Bound by obedience, I couldn't. Without it, maybe I'd rule demons—but never human-friendly. No need to say it. Heiter muses nostalgically, finally recalling my subjugation. Just over a decade, yet humans forget.
"I remember the day Himmel's letter arrived, saying he tamed you. Still have it. Want to read?"
"Stop joking. Burn it. His diary's bad enough—useless scribbles."
"Only Himmel would want a demon friend. His greatness made it real."
"Ugh…"
His memory's selective, keeping the worst. Himmel's diary annoys me enough; a letter too? I've never read it—obviously embarrassing—but he brings it up anyway.
"Haven't told you, but I consider you a friend too. Sincerely."
"Great. A nuisance. Like Himmel. You lot are creepily close."
He reads my mind, spouting "friend." That word's bound me since obedience. Himmel's enough; now him? They're too close.
"No, it's different. At first, yes, but now I trust you as a friend and ally."
"I'm not Frieren."
"Of course. I'm honest because you're a demon. Keep it from Himmel—he'd be jealous."
"Reeking monk."
I warn him not to equate me with that elf, but he flips it—honest because I'm a demon. Typical Heiter. He says words unsaid carry weight, yet neither he nor Himmel told her. Would've saved this hassle.
"Do as you like… What's with that elf since then?"
"No trace, sadly. Where's she dawdling? I'll scold her next time."
"Not just a mom."
His puffed-up, angry stance is human-mother-like. Creepy, but he's anxious, maybe from knowing her whereabouts.
Years ago, rumors surfaced—she was analyzing Zoltraak. Not just collecting magic, as Himmel said, but researching it. By the time Heiter acted, she'd vanished. A true migratory bird.
Her skill's undeniable. Zoltraak's been analyzed, integrated into human magic, likely with human help—Serie's prophecy fulfilled. She even cracked Beze, the Immortal, a Seven Sage like me, breaking his barrier. Her analytical prowess is her danger. She's seen my obedience magic. Unlikely, but I'd be foolish to think she couldn't unravel it.
"You okay?"
"Nothing. Why not spread a rumor Himmel's dead? Even she'd show up."
"Hahaha! Brilliant! Last resort, maybe. Could cause chaos, though."
He laughs, liking the idea. It's solid—even she'd come. If not, Himmel's got no chance. But, as Heiter says, it'd stir demon remnants. Could draw them out, but only lesser ones—easily exposed.
"What about Eisen? Not caught in this mess?"
"He's never cared for politics. Into blacksmithing now, per his letters."
"Creepy as ever."
Eisen's unchanged, likely training absurdly. Blacksmithing's Linie's influence—her birthday gifts multiply. Himmel tried competing, struggled when she begged for his hero's sword. He couldn't part with it. Linie wasn't pleased.
Things have changed lately.
Linie now joins Himmel on monster-slaying quests outside the village, training as his disciple. Maybe he's just lonely. Proof of her growth—human equivalent of eleven or twelve. Demon growth varies, but in a decade, her corset dress's seal might lift.
Lily and Stroh, now adults, just married. A child's coming. Stroh, finally a priest, quit soon—typical. The village chief's death, expected but sudden, played a role. A new chief's in place, with Stroh assisting, rumored to succeed him. That skirt-flipping brat's come far. Linie's upset by their aging gap—unavoidable.
Five, ten years to us demons; a lifetime to humans. Living together, I feel the time lag. Humans' lives are short. Elves, longer-lived, feel it more, though it varies. What's next for us?
"You're here, as expected. I'm back, Aura."
"Back, Aura-sama!"
Two familiar voices echo in the church. Turning, I see their unchanged faces. Just two months, but it feels longer. This place is that dull, or…
"Welcome back, both. Lively as ever."
Himmel's different, though. Heiter's taken aback, understandably. A mustache now graces his lips—Himmel, no longer a pretty boy, but a dandy, over-forty hero.
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