“Demon King?”

Clay had stopped suddenly while walking along the outskirts, watching over the moving Demon King’s army. Syltanaro, noticing, asked him.

“Are you all right?”

“...”

Clay couldn’t answer. An indescribable sense of foreboding pressed down on him.

“Syltanaro.”

He turned to her.

“Do you feel... anything from me?”

“Eh? What do you mean... ah.”

Syltanaro let out a sharp breath.

“D-Demon King, I feel an immense surge of holy power from you.”

“As I thought.”

“My lord...”

Her expression twisted in shock.

“It’s not only present—it’s growing stronger.”

It was nearing rampage. Clay also felt the storm of holy power pouring out of him, unnatural in its intensity.

‘This isn’t the Sun God’s power.’

It was the holy power he once used as a Hero—the power flowing from his link to Elhaen.

There was no reason it should surge like this without cause.

‘No... it can’t be...’

A terrifying thought crossed his mind, one he didn’t want to accept.

‘Elhaen... truly appeared here?’

But to descend into this world, Elhaen needed a vessel. Clay knew all too well what that vessel was meant to be.

So it could not be a perfect incarnation—only a partial descent, a fragment at best.

But even that was enough to prove a dire fact: Elhaen was directly intervening in this world.

“...!”

His racing thoughts halted as a stabbing pain seized his chest, forcing him to his knees.

“Demon King?!”

Syltanaro dropped beside him, panicked on her face.

“Are you all right?!”

He couldn’t respond. Clay clenched his fists, enduring the pain, then staggered back to his feet.

“We must hurry...”

Holy power was filling him beyond his body’s capacity. He had to find a way to stabilize it—quickly.

That meant relying on the facilities in Barungenia, and the combined skills of Lin and Golche.

“If I don’t...”

Crack—

His body began to fissure.

“My lord! Your body!”

Lines split across his skin, as if he might shatter at any moment. Clay grit his teeth.

Agonizing shock—not to his body, but to his very spirit. It felt as though he would crumble entirely.

Yet despite the sensation, his body did not actually break.

‘Of course.’

If he truly collapsed at this level, Elhaen could never use him as a vessel.

It was more likely a matter of rank. His soul wasn’t strong enough to harmonize with the scale of holy power surging into him, creating discord.

‘In other words...’

If he could endure the pain, he wouldn’t die.

Clay clenched his fists until blood ran. Knowing this didn’t make enduring the torment easier.

“Damn it...”

As his mind began to fade under the agony—

—Clay.

A voice echoed.

The pain receded slightly. His eyes snapped open in shock.

—Do not drown in it.

A familiar woman’s voice. He turned toward Syltanaro by his side, watching anxiously. But it wasn’t her.

The voice came from within.

‘Crea.’

—I’ve adjusted the balance with my own rank, dulling the pain.

Her calm words echoed in his mind.

—You are truly feeling it, but it’s nothing more than phantom pain.

“Phantom... pain?”

—It is a reflection of your spirit, not actual destruction.

Her tone was firm.

—Adapt. Don’t try to grow used to the pain. Accept that you are the vessel.

Any force could be contained within him, she explained. Clay muttered back, bitter.

‘So you’re still intact, mentally?’

—If by that you mean more than just “not dead,” then yes.

Creta was lodged within the coexistence core, helping distribute the surging holy power through his body.

—Now I exist as something like a parasite in your body. But I do more than just remain—I can manage what you cannot control.

The coexistence core pulsed, holding the tide of holy power steady.

—So, Clay... do you find my presence impressive, or unsettling?

“Both.”

Clay gave a humorless chuckle. It felt less and less like his own body. With so many influences, it no longer felt free.

‘Feels like I’m not even myself anymore.’

—That is what you are.

Her voice was calm.

—Accept it. You’ll suffer less that way.

It was a practical truth.

Clay closed his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to enter his inner world—the very place where he had once fought Creta to the death.

He simply breathed deeply, gauging within.

A vast, endless space without end.

Into it, holy power poured like a flood. But what seemed ready to overflow was instead being drawn away, swallowed by the dark hollow.

Filling—yet never full.

Realizing this, his heart steadied. The pain eased, his breath coming easier.

His eyes opened.

The fissures along his skin faded, dissolving into the air.

“Demon King?”

Syltanaro’s voice trembled.

Clay didn’t answer immediately—he steadied his breathing.

His body felt heavier, but the maddening pain was gone.

“Syltanaro.”

He reassured her.

“Thanks to you, I’m better now.”

He couldn’t tell her the truth about Creta yet, so he spoke vaguely. It was enough to ease her face.

“You’re truly all right, my lord?”

“Yes.”

Even so, worry lingered in her expression.

“In any case, we should hurry. If this holy power is harming you, we must find a way to purge it.”

“Thank you, for worrying for me.”

Clay rose slowly, supported by Syltanaro.

“I’m glad you’re at my side.”

“Th-thank you...”

Her expression grew awkward at his gratitude, as though unsure how to react.

“Then... let us go quickly.”

Clay leaned on Syltanaro and began walking again.

♧

The Halo.

It had once belonged to Omni, the God of Omniscience.

But it wasn’t something only Omni could wield. Yuru, having reached the power of an Origin, seized the authority sealed within the Halo and wove it into her own magic.

Through it, she could wield spells infused with the authority of omniscience. She had used that to pursue Nevil—and to resist Elhaen’s assault.

“...!”

Or perhaps it had only been resistance in name. The moment Elhaen seized the Halo, Yuru was flung into a dimensional rift, powerless to stop it.

Rumble—

The sky burned with colors like exploding stars, shattered landmasses drifting through the void.

Yuru stood upon one of the fragments, racing through the air without destination.

“Khuk...”

Pain lanced through her limbs. She raised a hand to clutch the Halo above her head.

Crackle.

Fragments were falling from it. Damaged—not destroyed, but heavily struck.

“How ridiculous...”

Her grip tightened.

“You use someone else’s relic... for tricks like this?”

Crack!

Heat surged from her hand, reforging the fractured Halo in an instant.

“Elhaen.”

Her eyes swept the horizon.

“I know you’re here. Show yourself.”

No reply.

But Yuru did not relent.

Circles bloomed around her—dozens, then hundreds of glowing magic arrays.

“Come out.”

He had hurled her into this prison, but she showed no fear of Elhaen.

She was only furious. Furious that he had broken Clay into what he was, and pretended innocence. Furious at this mockery of a trial.

Boom! Boom!

Her magic detonated shard after shard of the drifting landscape. She left only the one beneath her feet intact, annihilating the rest.

At last, a voice answered.

『How curious.』

Against the sky dyed in shifting hues, Nevill—no, Elhaen—hovered above, gazing down at her.

『I thought once the Halo was mended, you would immediately leave this place.』

“Catching you comes first.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“If I’d wanted to just go back, I wouldn’t have followed you here in the first place.”

『True enough.』

Elhaen’s voice was casual.

『So, what do you plan to do? You know your power cannot match mine.』

“Then I’ll destroy the vessel you’re wearing.”

Elhaen had said it would erase her. But that didn’t mean it could freely attack her now.

Rank. That was what separated them. It had not come in person, only through a borrowed body.

“The fact you showed yourself through Nevil’s body means if I destroy that vessel, you won’t have another way to act here—at least not now.”

Yuru slammed her staff down. A massive array lit up beneath her feet.

“I’ll break your puppet here, so you can never stand before my brother again.”

『Bold.』

Elhaen almost sounded pleased.

『Humans truly are fascinating.』

“Stop looking down on us.”

Her voice cut sharp.

“You used humanity as tools, then speak as though you created us.”

Elhaen had simply enslaved those who ruled this world, bending them into its pawns.

Yuru’s staff blazed.

Flames erupted from the broken earth, surging upward.

Magma Spheres—roaring, burning rocks launched toward Elhaen.

It only smirked as they rushed it, eyes gleaming with both interest and disdain.

『Then allow me to enlighten you.』

Elhaen spoke words she had never imagined.

『I made you.』

It was Elhaen’s way of declaring it's rank.

『I am your Creator.』

(End of Chapter)