Whose power was it?

He didn’t even need to think about the answer.

Clay lifted his hand. The sun-shaped mark was still there on the back of it, though faint now, its color faded.

The power he had used to wield Excalbren had been none other than the holy power granted by Elhaen.

“Elhaen.” Clay exhaled, almost in a sigh, “The holy power I once wielded as a Hero.”

“...”

Beatrice said nothing. She only turned her gaze toward Syltanaro, as though silently demanding an explanation.

“After being pulled into the magic circle and coming back out... he became like this.”

“I see.”

Beatrice’s reply was quiet. She lowered her gaze, as if retracing the vanished magic circles in her mind.

“Krata’s power, then.”

Only a force of that magnitude could have produced this result—she knew it well.

“Who was it?”

Beatrice asked flatly.

“Who did this to you?”

“Neville.” Clay answered without hesitation, “The crown prince of Krata—Neville.”

“You were caught.”

Beatrice pressed her hand to her brow.

“Humans, always...”

Her words trailed, mindful that Clay too was human. Her fist clenched tight.

“For now, let’s return, Clay. The first thing is to confirm the state of your body.”

The Demon King who had become Hero again—such a thing could plunge the Demon King’s Army into chaos. Left unchecked, it could unravel everything Clay had just unified.

“Don’t worry too much.”

Naiad spoke, seeing Beatrice’s grim face.

“Krata has already fallen.”

Trap or not, the Krata palace had collapsed under the invasion of the Demon King’s Army. None could claim the kingdom still stood after this.

“Leave troops behind to secure the area, then return so we can examine Clay’s condition. No need to rush.”

Then she turned her gaze toward Tia.

“Tia.”

There was still something for her to do.

“The Ezer forces from the west haven’t arrived yet.”

With their rear destroyed, Krata’s army could easily be annihilated if Ezer’s commander was competent.

“If Ezer’s troops arrive, you’ll lead them back to Ezer.”

Without Tia, the Ezer army might clash with the Demon King’s Army.

“If even one commander gets drunk on victory and thinks to claim Krata for themselves, it’ll be dangerous.”

It was also Naiad’s hope that Clay and Tia’s strained relationship wouldn’t shatter entirely.

Tia, who understood perfectly, gave a nod.

“I understand.”

“Good. Then we’ll—”

“Wait.” Beatrice cut in curtly, “That’s only possible if Tia isn’t hiding anything.”

“What do you mean...?”

“Can you swear that Tia had no hand in restoring Clay’s body?”

Naiad’s breath caught. Of all the reactions she had feared, this had been the worst.

“Tia is—”

“I had no part in it.” Tia spoke directly to Beatrice, “I have no interest in claiming Krata either.”

“Your word alone isn’t enough.”

The air grew instantly tense.

“Of course, Tia, your presence will keep the Ezer army in line. But Clay—”

Beatrice glanced his way.

“When you’re away, I take command of our strongholds. I’ll remain here, ensure Ezer’s troops withdraw, and turn Krata into another base for our people.”

“Beatrice. That’s unnecessary.”

“Clay.” She turned fully toward him, “I want to. You go back and see your body.”

“...”

Clay stared at her for a long moment, then finally let out a sigh.

“Very well.”

He turned away. Syltanaro, catching on, hurried to follow him.

“What are you thinking?”

Naiad asked the one who stayed.

“If you’re worried, you could’ve left me here. The two of you alone—”

“Afraid one of us might die?” Beatrice’s eyes narrowed, “I wonder—which of us are you worried about?”

“Beatrice!”

“Yes, I know I’m being sensitive.”

Still, she explained her reason.

“But with a traitor among us, how can I just leave?”

“What?”

“I’m on edge, Naiad. Nearly frantic over Clay’s condition.” Her gaze darkened, “I won’t stand by and watch as Clay, who finally tore himself free of human entanglements, is dragged back to them by force.”

Her emotions were beginning to drown her, driven by the fear of losing what was precious to her. Naiad flinched at the sight.

“...Fine.”

She relented, stepping back.

“I’ll follow Clay then. But don’t let your emotions carry you. What he needs is clarity—facts.”

“Yes.”

Beatrice’s reply was calm.

“That’s my specialty. Don’t worry.”

Her eyes fixed sharply now on Tia.

♧

“I thought I was going to die.”

Back in the Demon King’s camp.

Covered in dust, Geshkafor spoke breathlessly to Damon.

“There was this enormous pillar inside. Took everything I had to break it down.”

The backlash had left him battered and bruised. He thought it a great achievement—but no one around cared to hear it.

So he had no choice but to slink away, dodging falling rubble, licking his lips at the thought of recognition he wouldn’t receive.

Dragging his battered body, Geshkafor had stumbled back to rejoin the Demon King’s Army—and was now boasting loudly.

“I’m certain breaking that pillar must have helped the Demon King as well.”

“...”

Damon only looked at him with a flat, expressionless face.

“You didn’t just smash some random pillar, did you?”

“Were you even listening?!”

Geshkafor’s eyes bulged.

“It wasn’t some ordinary pillar! It shone with the same pattern as the magic circles! No—better said, it was a stone tower, not just a pillar!”

“Alright, calm down.”

Damon wiped at the sweat on his brow.

“If it truly aided the Demon King, then he’ll acknowledge it in due time.”

“Right?”

“Right.”

At that, Geshkafor finally calmed, and Damon swallowed dryly.

‘Simple-minded.’

Finding a demon who wasn’t simple was harder than finding one who was. Still, that one of the Demon King’s Four Generals was this gullible never ceased to amuse him.

‘But Neville was the one who deceived the Demon King?’

From Geshkafor’s words, that part had stung.

Clay had already been betrayed once at the execution platform, his faith in humans shattered. Yet Neville, the one human he had trusted and entrusted with duties, had turned out to be the culprit.

‘Things may get... interesting.’

Chaos meant corpses. And corpses were good for him. Damon smirked inwardly, imagining the Demon King sweeping away all humanity.

“Demon King?”

“L-Look, it’s the Demon King!”

“He’s returned!”

Clay.

The Demon King had come back.

The army surged toward him in unison. Damon moved with them, and even Geshkafor, cutting off his boasting, rushed ahead.

“Demon King!”

If he wanted his contribution recognized, he had to first hear what had truly happened.

And when Geshkafor saw him—he gasped.

‘Impossible...’

Clay looked unharmed.

He had returned without a single grievous wound.

‘Not even a noticeable injury, after all that...’

Even as admiration for Clay’s strength filled him, Geshkafor froze.

‘Hm?’

In Clay’s hand was a sword. But it wasn’t Syltanaro—she was walking beside him.

‘What...?’

Before he could dwell further, the demons swarmed around Clay.

“Demon King, are you unhurt?”

“Is Krata finished?”

“Does this land now belong to you?!”

Holy Krata had long tormented the demons. Excited, they longed to hear Clay declare its end.

“Yes.”

Clay’s answer came, calm but firm.

“This land is ours now.”

“Uwaaaaaah!”

The Demon King’s Army erupted in cheers.

“We’ve won!”

“The Demon King has crushed cursed Krata!”

“Our era begins now!”

The air swelled with triumph, but Clay’s face was far from bright. He walked through the jubilant demons until he stood before Geshkafor.

“Demon King.”

Geshkafor quickly spoke.

“You are safe, I see.”

“Yes.”

“Did I... perhaps aid you?”

Clay’s eyes turned to him.

“Aid me?”

“I—I found traces following Neville. They led me to a tower marked with magic circle patterns. I destroyed it at once!”

Clay let out a quiet sigh.

“...So that’s it.”

As though grasping something on his own, he looked back at Geshkafor.

“Geshkafor. Your part may have been significant.”

“Eh?”

“By breaking that tower, you may have allowed me to remain as I am now, at the very least.”

He offered an explanation, though vague. The “as I am” part went over Geshkafor’s head.

But that didn’t matter to him. What mattered was that the Demon King himself had acknowledged his contribution.

The suffering he’d endured breaking that pillar—validated. That was enough.

“Th-Thank goodness!”

Geshkafor shouted.

“I, Geshkafor, did everything I could to aid you, Demon King!”

Nearby, Damon looked at him with an exasperated face, but Geshkafor didn’t care.

“If ever you need anything, call on me anytime!”

“Very well.”

Clay’s answer was flat, but it was all Geshkafor needed. His lips curled into a grin—until his curiosity slipped out.

“But, Demon King, that sword...”

He shouldn’t have said it. Clay’s expression darkened instantly.

“A-Ah, I just meant... since it wasn’t Syltanaro, I thought perhaps I’d made a mistake—”

“We’ll speak later.”

Clay cut him off and walked on. Geshkafor started to follow, but Syltanaro held him back.

“Next time.”

Then she too followed. Naiad, trailing close behind, also passed without so much as a glance.

And so Geshkafor stood there, staring blankly at their backs.

(End of Chapter)