The Black Death had ravaged Europe in the 1350s.
With its horrifying contagion and the poor sanitary conditions of the time, nearly a third of the continent's population was wiped out.
Pest had once been the daughter of a medieval European noble. To her father, she had been nothing more than a bargaining chip for political marriage. She had never attended school in life—but through her own effort, she taught herself to read and write.
During a period of global cooling that devastated harvests and left serfs starving, she successfully implemented new agricultural theories to improve crop yields. Because of that, she earned the genuine affection of the peasants.
And yet—
When she became infected with the Black Death, she was abandoned.
Not only by society.
But by her own family.
Cast aside in terror, she died cursing the world.
That curse… came true.
And through its fulfillment, Pest acquired a Divinity.
For centuries thereafter, she wandered Europe as a vengeful spirit.
Whenever she encountered someone suffering the same fate she once had—isolated, condemned, forsaken—she could not bear to look away. She would guide them onward.
Unknowingly, that procession grew.
Eighty million souls.
If Merle was the inheritor of the will of the 130 children in The Pied Piper of Hamelin—
Then Pest was the vessel of eighty million resentful spirits.
With the achievements of eighty million dead upon her shoulders, she was undoubtedly worthy of the title:
The Divine Child of the Black Death.
The reason Shiroyasha had been sealed at the very start of the Gift Game was now clear.
In the mid-14th century, due to fluctuations in solar cycles, the sun entered a brief but severe cooling period—the onset of what would later be called the Little Ice Age.
The sun dimmed.
Global temperatures dropped.
Harvests failed.
Famine spread.
And in that weakened world, plagues like the Black Death spread even more easily.
Shiroyasha represented the Sun's governance.
Naturally—
Pest embodied the eighty million resentful spirits born from that era.
If the Sun had grown "slothful," plunging the world into cold and darkness—
Then Shiroyasha, as its representative, would likewise be sealed.
That was why Pest spoke of vengeance against the Sun.
If the Sun had not faltered—
The Black Death would not have ravaged so fiercely.
And she would not bear the weight of eighty million dead.
One against four.
Time and again, Pest was struck down.
Time and again, she forced herself back to her feet.
Objectively speaking, with eighty million resentful spirits empowering her—and the amplification of the grimoire—her strength absolutely stood at the pinnacle of the five-digit tier.
Her abilities balanced offense and defense.
With the home-field advantage of 『Hamelin Town』, she would not have feared even a four-digit opponent.
Unfortunately—
Her compatibility against these particular opponents was abysmal.
The dreaded Black Death virus, capable of making even Demon Lords recoil—
Was repeatedly absorbed by the unknown black substance summoned by that man.
Ren Kuroda.
Algol's petrification Gift pierced through the plague's defenses with terrifying ease.
Black Rabbit wielded multiple Divine Gifts, including the Vajra.
Pest's achievements were magnificent—but in the end, she was still a fledgling Demon Lord.
She could not endure such relentless rotation.
"Yield," Ren said calmly.
"If not for yourself, then for the subordinates still struggling over there."
He glanced toward Ratten, barely conscious within Deen's iron grip.
Then to Weser, being steadily overwhelmed by Izayoi.
"Even if, as you claim, the Black Death of the fourteenth century wasn't merely a natural disaster—but was influenced by the stars…"
"Attempting to rewrite history is misguided."
"Human history unfolds according to its own course. Only by enduring catastrophe after catastrophe does humanity evolve and grow."
Ren's voice did not rise.
But it carried weight.
"You want to change the fate of the eighty million who died of the Black Death."
"But have you considered how many others would have to bear the consequences of that change?"
"Altering history is not only unwise—it's nearly impossible. No one controls time. Those who attempt it are swallowed by the current."
Pest bit her lip.
Her gaze shifted between her subordinates.
Though the Demon Lord Alliance had once told her that Weser and Ratten were expendable—
She had never once treated them as such.
They trusted her.
Followed her.
If she abandoned them now—
How would she be any different from the people who abandoned her when she contracted the plague?
And yet—
She carried eighty million resentful spirits.
Even if she gave up revenge against the Sun—
At the very least, she had to change their fate.
"This Gift Game… 『GrimmGrimoireHameln』 no longer has any chance of victory," Ren continued.
"Even if you refuse to surrender, the end result will only be your death alongside your two subordinates."
He paused.
"And tell me—would exacting revenge on the Sun truly change the fate of those eighty million?"
"The ones who told you that… they wouldn't happen to be His Highness and his group, would they?"
Pest's expression had already wavered.
But when she heard the words "His Highness," her eyes widened in shock.
"Just as I thought," Ren murmured.
"You probably don't know this—but not only your subordinates…"
"You were being used as a disposable pawn too."
Silence.
"Let's make a deal," Ren said.
"End the Gift Game here. Surrender. Join my Community."
"In exchange, I will do everything in my power to find a way to change the fate of those eighty million resentful spirits."
"The choice is yours."
"Yield… or die here."
For most Demon Lords, Ren would have already drawn his blade.
He wouldn't waste words.
But Pest—
She wasn't irredeemable.
If anything, she was deeply loyal.
She challenged the invincible Sun for the sake of eighty million strangers.
And she hesitated now—not for herself—but for the safety of her two companions.
If possible—
Ren truly did not want to kill her.
And perhaps, after recruiting subordinates in other worlds for so long, his occupational habit as a future Lord of Yokai was surfacing again.
Pest stared at him.
"Can you truly help me change the fate of eighty million resentful spirits?"
"Why should I believe you?"
"How do I know you won't simply use me—like His Highness did?"
Ren didn't flinch.
"I can only promise to try. I cannot guarantee success."
"As for whether you believe me—that depends entirely on your judgment."
"But one thing I can guarantee—"
"Anyone who becomes my companion, I treat as family."
"My name is Ren Kuroda."
"Even if I were to become a demon in truth—I would never betray the family I love."
He exhaled softly.
"And the reason I'm asking you to join my Community isn't because I covet your power."
"It's because, aside from surrendering to us, no other ending will be kind to you."
"As the Demon Lord who disrupted the Fire Dragon Birth Festival, 『Salamandra』 will never simply forgive you."
"As for 『No Name』—they belong to the East District. Even if they accepted you, their Floor Master is Shiroyasha."
He tilted his head slightly.
"But my Community—『Ghost Travel』—is different."
"I am a Demon Lord."
"Algol and Leticia are both former Demon Lords."
"We understand what you are."
"And we don't flinch from it."