On a bustling main street, two women stood out. Nearly the same height, petite enough to be mistaken for girls. One wore clerical robes, clearly tied to the church. The other, in a rare corset dress, was strikingly picturesque—a beauty by any measure. Both shared one trait: horns, marking them as demons.
Aura of the Scales and Linie the Exception. Rumored in the Holy Capital as sisters—or parent and child.
"Good morning, Aura-sama, Linie-sama. Looking well today."
"As you can see."
"Morning! I'm great too!"
Walking with Linie, a female follower greets us. It's routine now; I've memorized most faces and names. Linie's different—she responds the same to strangers, no caution. Humans see her as pure, idolizing her. I orchestrated it, but didn't expect it to work this well. Linie seems to enjoy it. Why?
"Here, I got these. You both like them, right?" The follower offers apples.
"Apples! Thanks!" Linie's eyes light up, unreserved.
Her predictability is why. Our love for apples is common knowledge, among other things. The parent-child rumor's wrong, though—humans see it that way. Lately, our similar appearances make some think sisters. I don't correct them; no benefit. Linie denies we're master and servant, but they take it as a joke.
"Don't spoil her. It'll become a habit."
"Sorry. You two are so close. Where to today?"
"Heiter's. Summoned, so no choice."
"As expected of Aura-sama, trusted by Heiter-sama."
"What a nuisance… Attend other priests' gatherings too. Overdoing it's troublesome."
"Never. Aura-sama is worthy of our faith. May the scales bless you."
My warning's ignored. She kneels, praying to me, clutching a scale accessory—not the Goddess. Others on the street do the same. Passersby cast cold glances, some at me, met by Linie's demonic stare—her true face, not the innocent act. I know this is her real self.
"Let's go, Linie."
"Got it, Aura-sama!"
I shake it off, leaving. Linie follows, her earlier demeanor gone. Our daily life now.
"Barging in, Heiter."
"Playtime with Heiter!"
We enter abruptly—his office in the Holy Capital's cathedral, reserved for high clergy. Books and Goddess relics overflow, suggesting a devout follower. In truth, just a reeking monk.
"Welcome, both. Good work."
"Praise me more!"
"You've done nothing."
Linie takes his rote greeting seriously. Demons aren't used to deception, but this is too much. I messed up raising her.
"As always. Your bond is heartwarming. The Goddess must be pleased."
"Mind your business. If She's got time, She should show herself."
"Hahaha, you win. I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
Heiter laughs, unfazed by my jab at his Goddess. Typical. I mean it—She created the world? Then save it already.
"Your dress hasn't changed, Linie. What about the robes I gave you?"
"Smelly, so no. Why do monk clothes stink?"
"Maybe the incense. Or my keeping them."
"Also, old man smell. Like Himmel."
Linie pinches her nose, recalling Heiter's recent gift—robes, well-intentioned but useless. Demons, especially Linie with her keen nose, struggle with the Holy Capital's scents. She loves that dress—mine once. The real reason? Old man stench.
"You and Himmel are just old."
"Rude. I still have hair."
"White-haired monk."
"Naughty kids don't get candy."
"I'm grown. Candy won't sway me."
"Oh? I got apple sweets, but I'll keep them."
"Love you, Heiter!"
"No choice, then."
"…You two never change."
Their same old banter. No growth, just aging looks—Heiter's white hair, wrinkled face. He calls it gravitas; I say old. Candy or white hair suits him? Himmel's collateral damage—tough luck.
"You're right. My heart's unchanged since childhood."
"Not something to brag about."
"But you're unchanged, still beautiful."
"Obviously. I'm a demon."
"Me too!"
He's got breath for empty flattery. That attitude means death's far off. Unchanged as demons? Obvious.
"True. It makes me jealous. Makes me want to find the Book of Immortality."
"Book of Immortality? What's that?"
"Sage Eivich's legendary grimoire, sought by rulers."
Heiter envies us, mentioning Sage Eivich—pre-Flamme, humanity's magic pioneer. A book granting immortality?
"Ridiculous. No such thing."
"Exactly. Eivich would've used it."
Humans are fools. All creatures die. Chasing that? Wasteful. Even demons aren't immortal—I'm over 500, the Demon King over 1,000. Only their Goddess could pull it off, but humanity might die out first. Or—
"Elves are closest to that," Heiter muses.
Exactly. Frieren's over 1,000 years old, Serie from mythic times. Maybe humans mistook elves for their Goddess.
"Should've quit drinking before chasing immortality. Goddess's blessing didn't help your binges."
"Ouch. But your magic's extended my life."
"Thank Eisen."
"Eisen's reliable!"
Linie chimes in, now that it's understandable. Shockingly, Heiter's sober—his drinking caught up. Self-inflicted. My magic couldn't fix it. He owes Eisen.
"Speaking of, Linie, you see Eisen often. How's he?"
"Don't you write him?"
"Letters miss some things."
They—Himmel included—write constantly. Creepy. Letters aren't enough, apparently. Linie's more reliable, visiting Eisen biannually.
"He's fine but aging. Won't block swords with his body anymore or train. Says he's too old to swing an axe," Linie pouts.
Eisen's aging too. Even dwarves can't escape it. I saw his arms thin once. Still, he's a monster—our senses differ.
"…I see. But he's still smithing, right? His letter said he's forging a sword for your birthday."
"Really!?" Linie perks up.
Heiter shifts tactics, cheering her. Clever, even old. I'll never outtalk him.
"Time flies. Linie was so small not long ago," Heiter says.
"Not that small," Linie retorts.
"My bad. Fifty years, and I'm not taller. Another fifty, who knows?"
"You'll be dead by then."
"Respect elders!"
"Act like one!"
Heiter's nonsense invites retorts. Things have changed since then.
The Magic Association's grown active over twenty years, as Serie predicted. They rank mages, testing regularly. Eccentric elf. I met Lernen, the first First-Class Mage, in the capital. A monster, even to peak me. I'd have fled, but Serie forbade him from touching me. With Himmel there, worst-case avoided, but scary. Unlike Frieren, he doesn't attack on sight. Internally, I'm treated as a privileged demon First-Class Mage—insulting. Never again.
Demons? Same as always. With the hero alive, remnants hide—smart. Lesser ones get hunted. Unrelated, Macht was sealed in the north, turning a city to gold. A creepy Seven Sage, yet strongest. Why? Foolish post-Demon King? Or the Association's monsters? Not my problem. Like Qual, no reason to help. I can't anyway.
Humans? Southern countries war—not against demons, but each other. Himmel tried, failed to stop it. Foolish. Zoltraak, developed into human magic, kills more. Soon, it'll truly be a killing spell. Ironic—the hero party's mage helped.
"Unlike Eisen, I should think about retirement," Heiter says.
He knows the world's state but won't act. Typical—not a proactive helper like Himmel. Only a Demon King-like figure could fix it.
"You've got a house already."
"Right, your villa. How about retiring together, leisurely?"
"No way. Why stick with you?"
"You're everyone's mom."
"Aura-sama's my master, not mom!" Linie snaps.
"My mistake. Shall I pass my role to you?"
Heiter's nonsense again. Me, a mom? A human elder's pathetic magic word. Just a nuisance. He's shoving his role on me? Foolish.
"No way. Without you, we've no place here."
He should know that.
"Why think that?" he asks, serious.
"Obvious. I've been toyed with by human malice. Without your protection, I can't resist."
Heiter's puzzled look meets my obvious answer. I can't sense malice—Heiter shielded me. Without him, disputes like the succession would arise. Worse—
"I can't feel malice, but I see its signs around me. My influence, power's too strong. Soon, the Holy Capital and royal capital will oust me—or tame me. Either way, no good."
My growing influence—humans worshipping me over the Goddess—unwelcome here. Factions aim to remove me, held back by Heiter. Without him, it's clear. I can't resist; obedience bars me from harming humans. I'm their slave, pet—exterminated or tamed.
"You've truly understood humans," Heiter says solemnly, unlike himself.
"Got a problem? You taught me."
"True. I hope it's not all you've learned."
His cryptic talk—pointless to a demon.
"What'll you do next, Aura?"
"Huh? Himmel decides that. I've no choice. You know that."
What's with him? Himmel asked this too. Pointless—I'm bound. All I can do is chatter, demonic in a way. I can't deceive him.
"Right… Like Eisen, a sinful man. Finally taking responsibility?"
"What? Stop being vague. Linie's dozing off."
"…Huh? Where am I? Lily?" Linie mumbles.
"No malice. No wonder she's popular," Heiter says.
He mutters, maybe senile. Linie's bored, asleep, thinking she's in the village, looking for Lily. Like Heiter, a child inside.
"Off-topic. I called you for a love letter," Heiter says, handing it over with a grin.
"Again? Deal with it. Same old."
Familiar sight. Love letter? Just schemers' ploys. I can't be bothered to read. Heiter's job to handle. Yet—
"I can't. It's for you."
He shoves it at me. I take it, annoyed, then understand.
The sender: that meddling hero, with a "to my friend" note. Infuriating.
Himmel's love letter—an invitation to the royal capital.
Fifty years after the Demon King's defeat, in the Holy Capital Strack.
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