“A spirit?!”

The immortal god, Athanasia, stood frozen in shock as she entered Barungenia’s office.

“You said you brought back loot from Yafenon, but spirits too?!”

“What the hell is that?!”

Naiad, equally stunned, pointed at Athanasia and shouted.

“That’s one of the ancient evil gods! What is that monster doing here?!”

“What?! M-Monster?!”

“Yeah, monster! Stay back! Unless you want to drown right here!”

“Naiad.” Clay spoke, trying to keep his voice calm despite the mounting tension, “How do you recognize Athanasia so easily? Didn’t you say you were from a later generation of spirit kings—about the same age as me?”

“...Ah?”

Naiad’s pupils flickered briefly before she scrambled to explain.

“W-We have records of the ancient gods’ appearances, okay? That’s how I knew.”

“Hah! What kind of nonsense is that?”

Athanasia sneered, seizing the moment.

“We’ve met before. Back when you were just a newborn spirit. You used to run and hide whenever I showed up—don’t think I forgo—mmph?!”

Fwoooosh!

A blast of water surged out from Naiad, hitting Athanasia square in the face. She stumbled back, raising a hand in protest.

“W-What is this?!”

“Shut up, you cursed relic! You shouldn’t be anywhere near Clay! How did you crawl back here? Get back underground where you belong!”

Naiad unleashed a stream of insults as she pushed Athanasia back with relentless torrents. Athanasia staggered, visibly caught off guard.

Did they really meet in the past?

Watching the spectacle unfold, Clay let out a quiet breath.

If Naiad had been around much longer than she had claimed, it was only to his advantage.

After all, he’d been wondering how to explain the others here to her. If she carried vast knowledge and experience, she might take everything in stride… or at least, faster than he expected.

“You couldn’t even look me in the eye back then!”

“Shut up! That was then—this is now!”

Or maybe… not.

Clay pressed a hand to his temple, feeling the beginning of a headache.

Still, maybe it’s a relief in some ways.

Despite her initial shock at Barungenia, Naiad had quickly regained her usual temperament.

And yet… she considers Athanasia an evil god too.

Even though Athanasia was one of the ancient gods, it seemed spirits like Naiad had always seen Elhaen as the “righteous” side.

Why?

Elhaen was a foreign god, after all. By logic, the spirits should have opposed him and sided with the native gods.

“Stop dousing me with water…! Unless you want to turn me into a walking corpse!”

“Says the one reaching out with that nasty hand…!”

Athanasia raised her hand in defense, Naiad summoned a spherical barrier—and the two clashed, wind howling through the office.

Whap! Whap!

Papers flew everywhere. Clay finally opened his mouth.

“Enough.”

His voice, laced with magia, halted both of them instantly.

“Do not make a mess of the office again.”

At the sharp command, Athanasia immediately withdrew. Naiad, however, only gave a sheepish look as she hovered awkwardly in the air.

“You really are different.”

Flying back to Clay’s side, Naiad murmured,

“So this is what it means to be the Demon King, huh?”

“…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t expect you to be who you used to be.”

Even so, a flicker of sadness crossed her face.

“I might still miss the old Clay now and then.”

“Naiad.” Clay reached out his palm toward her, “You can bring up the past whenever you want. You’re still you—just like back then.”

“Hmmm~.” Naiad floated down and perched on his hand, “Thanks.”

A short distance away, Athanasia watched their exchange with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Kind of makes me jealous.”

She didn’t bother hiding the awkward twinge of emotion from being treated so differently. Yet Clay didn’t shy away from Demon King–like questions, even with Naiad.

“Naiad. Why did you treat Athanasia like an enemy? She was a native god resisting the foreign one—shouldn’t she have been on your side?”

“Oh, that?”

Naiad looked like she was about to answer casually—but then tilted her head.

“Huh. Good question. Why is that?”

And just like that, the answer was lost.

♧

Elhaen.

The foreign god who descended into this world.

He called himself the savior, driving out the foolish native deities and promising a better civilization for all.

And he succeeded—sealing the native gods and building a human-centered civilization.

That was the story passed down in this world.

“So basically… you don’t remember either.”

A meeting of three.

The three of them sat in chairs, facing one another. When Clay asked, Athanasia wore a troubled expression.

“I remember fighting Elhaen. I remember that he was a god from beyond this world. But everything else is hazy. I don’t know why he left or why he hasn’t returned.”

Yet even so, Elhaen had left behind divine power in this world.

“I don’t really know either. I don’t know why I saw her as an enemy the moment I laid eyes on her.”

Naiad pouted, clearly disturbed. Clay lowered his gaze slightly.

Did he erase their memories?

There were clear signs Elhaen had tampered with their minds—though the reasons were still unknown.

Maybe it wasn’t just erasure… maybe he rewrote parts of it.

Not just memory loss, but memory modification. If Elhaen had altered the memories of the native gods, spirits, and perhaps even all life from that era, it was possible he had burned through so much energy doing so that he was forced into a long dormancy.

Then what is this divine power?

If he had expended enough strength to need to recover his existence, then distributing divine power on this scale to humanity should have been near impossible.

Is there a method I’m not seeing?

Even so, the fact that divine power continued to be supplied to this world was questionable in itself. And the fact that Elhaen hadn’t reacted to Clay’s manipulation of that divine power—likely meant he wasn’t even watching.

Sending power without interest. No matter how he looked at it, something was off.

I don’t get it.

But Clay couldn’t figure out what Elhaen’s true intentions were. Even as the Demon King, anything beyond this world was still utterly unknowable to him.

“…I understand.”

Whatever the case, there was no point in continuing the conversation further here. Clay decided to wrap things up.

“Naiad, I’ll arrange a residence for you.”

For now, he had to properly accept Naiad’s assistance and offer her a place to stay.

“Tell me where you’d like to be.”

At that, Athanasia’s eyes went wide.

“Wherever she wants?”

She sounded like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You’re not just going to assign a place?”

“Of course not!”

Naiad turned to Athanasia and smirked in Clay’s stead.

“I’m someone special to Clay!”

“…Sure.”

Athanasia replied casually, which made Naiad blink in confusion—only for her to immediately follow up with,

“To him, you probably look like a pet bird at most.”

“Hey!”

Just as another commotion threatened to erupt, Clay sighed deeply.

Clunk.

The door to the office opened, and in walked Beatrice, her crimson hair fluttering.

“Quite the ruckus in here.”

She strode forward, heels clicking, and stopped beside Athanasia and Naiad.

“Have you all forgotten this is the Demon King’s office?”

“…”

Athanasia closed her mouth and raised both hands slightly—an unspoken sign that she would stop now.

“Beatrice.”

But Naiad was not so quick to yield.

“What are you scheming?”

“Scheming?”

“Yes.”

Naiad narrowed her eyes and floated right in front of Beatrice’s face.

“You’ve become Clay’s advisor, haven’t you? I doubt you took that seat without some kind of motive.”

“Would it comfort you if I said I had one?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know everything.”

Naiad fixed her gaze on Beatrice, then declared with conviction:

“You like Clay.”

Pffft!

Athanasia, who had been sipping tea, choked.

“Khak! Cough cough!—”

“You like him, don’t you?! Huh?! Since when? Since when did you start having feelings for him, you black dragon?!”

“Black dragon?”

“Because your heart is so full of dark thoughts! That’s why you’re a black dragon!”

Watching Naiad spew such absurd logic, Clay sighed quietly.

Naiad had always been this way. She wasn’t one to get intimidated by others. Even if she looked shaken at first, she always bounced back—loud and defiant.

Maybe that’s a relief.

Since she was now bound by her own vow and would be staying in Barungenia, Clay didn’t want her feeling small among the other demons.

Still, even he hadn’t expected her spirit to remain this undiminished.

Honestly… she hasn’t changed a bit.

It was ridiculous. And yet, he didn’t mind it. For some reason, her presence brought him a strange sense of peace. Like a breath of rest.

“So! I’ll be staying here!”

Apparently, the discussion had already moved along while he was lost in thought. Naiad shouted in front of Clay’s face.

“I approve.”

Beatrice chuckled and raised a hand.

“It’s not like you’re asking to stay in Clay’s bedchamber—just the office. I can allow that.”

“Right! Good thinking! Wait—hold on a sec?”

“Too late.”

Beatrice clapped her hands together.

“I figured this might happen, so I already prepared your quarters.”

At that, a maid entered the room, carrying something concealed beneath a veil.

“W-What is that?”

Looking thoroughly flustered, Naiad watched as Beatrice grabbed the veil and pulled it off.

“!”

What emerged was—

“A birdcage?!”

A large decorative cage made of metal bars, furnished inside like a miniature dollhouse.

“Look—there’s a bed, and even a mirror.”

Beatrice held it up, pointing proudly at the little features inside.

“You… you…!”

Naiad trembled all over.

Watching Beatrice escalate the chaos instead of ending it, Athanasia sighed.

“…She’s terrifying too.”

Having finally cleared her throat, she muttered to herself—then turned her gaze to the office entrance.

There stood a woman radiating pure cold.

“What… is this?”

Selimia.

Before Clay’s return, she had been stationed on Beatrice’s orders—erecting ice barriers to repel intruders heading for Barungenia.

Having rushed back upon hearing Clay had returned, this was the first scene she saw.

“…What is this.”

She muttered, fury rising behind her voice.

Behind her, even Syltanaro, the demon blade, had arrived—and Athanasia cast a glance toward Clay.

“……”

Silence.

That was the only kind of authority he could wield now—as the Demon King.

(End of Chapter)

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