Yaphenon.

The nation that had been devastated by Vald was, about a month later, beginning to recover its stability.

“It looks like they’ve faithfully carried out the Demon King’s orders.”

Syltanaro looked around and let out a word of admiration.

Indeed, Yaphenon was brimming with life. The merchants who had fled had returned, and quite a number of workers were helping to rebuild the collapsed buildings.

“I see.”

It was simply that he hadn’t been given the opportunity, but Neville certainly had a talent for managing people. He had the skills to run a nation without issue.

Clay, speaking in a low voice, reached up and adjusted the hood of his robe that covered his face. It was stuffy, but it wasn’t time to reveal himself yet.

“Let’s observe a bit more.”

Neville wasn’t the only one who had been stationed here. There were others to check on, step by step.

“Should we head back to the inn now? We’ve been walking around outside too long. Let’s take a break.”

A tiny voice murmured from within Clay’s arms.

“Inn?”

“Yeah. Let’s get something to eat at the tavern downstairs, too.”

In response to his question, the owner of the small voice poked her head out from under the robe. Syltanaro tilted his head curiously at the sight.

“Aren’t spirits supposed to live outdoors?”

“Hmph, do you think we sleep on dirt or something? We still go into squirrel-like houses and rest on leaf piles, you know.”

“I wonder if the squirrels are fine with that.”

As the two of them chatted nonsense, Clay spotted an inn.

“Let’s go there.”

When they entered the first floor of the inn, a middle-aged man with a thick beard greeted them.

“What brings you here?”

“We’re looking for a place to stay for a few days.”

“Hmm.”

The man stroked his chin and cautiously asked,

“Are you a follower of Atana, by chance?”

Atana?

Clay tilted his head at the unfamiliar name.

“Atana? What’s that?”

“Hmm? It’s a religion that worships the ancient god Athanasia. Judging by your reaction, I guess you’re not a follower.”

The man scratched his head sheepishly.

“I joined recently, you see. Their apostles wear robes like that, so I mistook you for one of them. Hope you understand. It’s rare to see fellow believers this far out.”

At those words, Clay let out a small chuckle internally.

‘Athanasia. Impressive.’

It seemed the objective assigned here was being executed properly. Even Syltanaro looked surprised, eyes wide.

“A bit late, but let me introduce myself. I’m Norava, the owner of this inn.”

As the man introduced himself, Clay met his gaze and replied,

“Nice to meet you, Norava. Thanks for the explanation. Are the other innkeepers like you?”

“Haha, not really. If I hadn’t mistaken you for a follower of Atana, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to be this friendly.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, let’s get along. How many nights are you staying?”

“One night.”

It was an immediate answer.

“One should be enough.”

“You said a few days.”

“I’d like to see if the food’s good first before deciding on an extension.”

It was a decision reflecting the will of Naiad, who was hidden in his arms and pressing signals into his side.

Despite her small size, she had an enormous love for human food. She didn’t even need to eat to survive, yet Clay never bothered to argue about it.

After all, when it came to soothing a weary body and mind, nothing beat a good meal.

“Sounds like you’ve got a refined palate. Got it. Go ahead and sit at a nearby table. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

“You’re the one cooking?”

“Yeah, I’m the chef here. My daughter handles the bills and serving. I’m training her early to inherit the place one day.”

It was an unnecessary, but Clay simply asked for the inn’s recommended dish and went to sit down.

‘Quite a few customers.’

It looked like Neville was doing a good job revitalizing Yaphenon’s capital. The people’s expressions were so cheerful it was hard to believe such a disaster had occurred recently.

“Food’s ready~”

Before long, a plainly dressed young woman approached with a tray.

“This is mushroom soup, this is stir-fried vegetables, and here’s some freshly baked bread.”

Nothing fancy.

“Would you like any alcohol? We’ve got grain wine.”

“No alcohol…”

Another nudge came from within his cloak. Clay sighed and changed his answer.

“Bring a bottle. And if you have a small cup, bring one of those too.”

“A small cup… Got it. That’s for the friend in your robe, I take it?”

The woman smiled brightly.

“Little lizards do like alcohol, but make sure not to give them too much, alright? You know how it is.”

“……”

“I’ll be right back with it~!”

As the woman turned away, Naiad peeked out and furrowed her brow.

“W-Who’s a little lizard? I’m the supreme spir—!”

Before she could finish, Clay pushed her back into his cloak as he saw the woman returning with the wine and cups.

“Seems like a lot of people carry little lizards around these days.”

To Clay’s remark, the woman nodded.

“Yeah, with the surge in Poison Flies lately. Because of that recent incident.”

Poison Flies were toxic winged insects that nested in animal corpses. If bitten, they could transmit all sorts of diseases.

‘Because of the corpses.’

There must still be uncleaned bodies scattered everywhere. It made sense that Poison Flies, hatching from eggs laid in blood puddles, would be rampant.

“They usually only come out at night, so working during the day is fine, but… at night, people keep Little Lizards near them to protect themselves. Poison Flies are their prey, after all.”

“I see.”

“Doesn’t seem like that’s why you keep one, though.”

Clay let out a dry laugh.

“I just like her for a lot of reasons. That’s why I bring her around.”

“Well, she is cute, I guess.”

At the woman’s comment, Naiad flinched inside Clay’s robe, as if embarrassed.

“Ah, I’ve been talking too much, haven’t I? Please try the food. It may not be fancy, but the taste is—”

Clunk.

That was when it happened. Half a dozen large men shoved the inn door open and stepped inside.

♧

Thud, thud.

The noisy chatter of patrons drinking and eating died down the moment the newcomers arrived.

The newcomers, however, didn’t seem to care about the sudden silence. They simply took seats around a large table without a word.

“Alcohol and meat. Here.”

One of them raised a hand and barked the order. The innkeeper’s daughter, who had just been offering food to Clay, quickly nodded and ran off.

“Y-Yes, right away!”

Clay watched the scene unfold in silence.

Meat that wasn’t served to other customers was brought out to their table. Taking advantage of the diverted attention, Clay poured himself a drink and gently lowered Naiad from his arms.

Though she was curious about what was going on, Naiad quietly sipped the grain wine first.

Bang!

Then it happened. The large men slammed the table and started making a scene.

“This tastes like shit!”

“Are you trying to go out of business?!”

“You’re only alive thanks to us protecting this place!”

Clay understood.

He realized why something like this was happening.

‘No soldiers.’

He hadn’t seen any soldiers from Yaphenon on the way here. They had likely died trying to stop Vald, or fled in fear.

The pride of the warriors had been trampled. With only civilians remaining, it was natural for public safety to deteriorate. In that power vacuum, these thugs had formed gangs and were now acting like rulers.

‘Perfect timing.’

It seemed Athanasia’s religion was gradually gaining influence here. If so, supporting that momentum wasn’t a bad idea.

“How noisy.”

At Clay’s comment, the thugs turned their eyes toward him.

“What was that?”

“Among people trying to move forward from their painful pasts, you lot—vermin, really—are quite an eyesore.”

“The hell did you just say, bastard?!”

The thugs rose from their seats.

“We’re protecting this place from total collapse after the ancient god tore through it!”

“What the hell do you know?!”

“Want to die?!”

The threats were so simple and crude that Clay didn’t even feel like laughing. As soon as Syltanaro subtly shielded Naiad with his hand, Clay stood up from his seat.

He began walking toward the thugs.

“I’m not particularly interested in the likes of you. But I figured I’d start the cleanup with you. What you’re doing doesn’t suit the teachings of the Atana Faith.”

At the sudden approach, the thugs instantly shifted into a wary stance.

“What the hell—he’s a damn Atana follower?!”

“Knew it! His clothes looked like it!”

“Fucking Atana cultists! This land was ruled by warriors, not cowards preaching about the weak needing each other! Not a single strong one among you!”

So that was it.

Athanasia had been building her religion with a surprisingly human touch. She hadn’t even fully revealed herself, likely to avoid drawing Krata’s attention.

Clay had entrusted it to her once—but of course, she was still an ancient god. Not stupid. She’d remained hidden while exploiting the most vulnerable aspects of humanity.

But if the faith had grown enough, now was the time to show that its doctrine had strength backing it.

“This land ruled by warriors, you say?”

Clay spoke.

“The days when each of you was a spear or a sword are over. You must now acknowledge your weakness and learn to live under a new order.”

“What bullshit—!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to submit.”

BOOM!

A tremendous pressure erupted from around Clay. The thugs dropped to their knees, faces twisted in shock.

“H-He’s a mage?!”

“Shit!”

Grinding their teeth, they snatched the swords off their table.

“We’re not that weak, you son of a bitch—!!”

Savages.

With the nation’s leadership gone, men like these didn’t respond to Neville’s diplomatic words or the cowardly voices of reason. What they understood was a fist.

CRACK!

The first man who charged was struck in the face by Clay’s fist—his skull visibly caving in.

“Guh?!”

He flew backward, crashing onto a nearby table. The patrons sitting there jumped up in shock.

“Haven’t done this in a while.”

Clay muttered.

It had been some time since he’d dealt with thugs like these.

But it felt different now.

“What’s the matter? Aren’t you coming?”

There was a strange thrill.

A dark satisfaction in forcing others to kneel through power.

His mind, which had been trying to forget recent torment, was now reaching for new, extreme stimulation.

So perhaps…

The Atana Faith had simply been an excuse.

Maybe what Clay really wanted was just—

“I wish there were hundreds, no, thousands more of you.”

Clay’s lips twisted unnaturally.

“The longer the lesson takes, the more fun I’ll have.”

(End of Chapter)

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