BOOOOM!

Madarict.

The Guardian Knights’ sacred sanctuary was now collapsing.

“…Looks like they really fled far.”

Yelena murmured as she stood in the rain with the other elves outside.

Just before their attacks could land, Valuel had diverted his trajectory to blast a hole in the wall—then escaped through the hidden passageway revealed behind it.

Cadis had also fled with Ravi through the same path, but Yelena hadn’t bothered chasing them.

Because what truly mattered had remained in that place.

She had quickly absorbed the liquefied relics into her body. Among them, she had drawn out a pair of archer’s gloves and equipped them—gloves that applied even stronger recoil when drawing a bowstring.

Once she completed the absorption process, Yelena left the sanctuary. And now, surveying her surroundings, she confirmed that the Guardian Knights had truly vanished from this place.

Clench.

Without saying a word, Yelena tightened her fist without even glancing back at the elves behind her.

The foreign power of the relics coursed through her body.

“Clay.”

She whispered.

“Now, I’ll do what I must.”

♧

“Clay! How long are you going to sleep?! Get up!”

Naiad’s voice stabbed at his ears, rousing Clay from slumber.

How long had it been since he’d fallen asleep beside the fire? The sky was already bright.

“Demon King, you’re awake.”

Syltanaro, now in humanoid form, stirred the pot above the fire with a ladle as she addressed him.

“…What’s that?”

“I was preparing something simple for breakfast.”

Breakfast.

Clay looked around.

The Darkmoon Knights were nowhere in sight. No doubt they had cloaked themselves again and were patrolling the area.

“Is it made from what Cardin left behind?”

“Yes,” Syltanaro replied softly to Clay’s question, “Though I prepared it using only the recipes I know.”

“I see.”

Perhaps she didn’t want to give credit for the cooking part.

Clay stood up slowly.

‘I’m definitely worn out.’

After nearly draining all his magia inside the labyrinth, his body had struggled to recover.

‘Does being apart from Syltanaro make it worse?’

He had felt slightly better when in contact with her. Clay walked over to Syltanaro’s side.

“Syltanaro. Will it still take some time to finish?”

“Yes, about five minutes—”

She cut off mid-sentence.

Because Clay had suddenly leaned against her.

“Demon King?”

“Just for a moment, let me rest.”

Clay exhaled deeply.

“My magia is unstable right now.”

As soon as he made contact with her, the dizziness began to ease. Syltanaro paused for a moment, flustered, then resumed stirring the pot.

“Understood.”

“Hey, wait a minute!”

Unlike Syltanaro’s calm response, Naiad flew over in an agitated flurry.

“What’s this, what’s this, what’s this?!”

“What is it, Naiad.”

“What do you mean, ‘what is it’?! What are you doing right now?!”

She flapped her wings in frustration.

“I’m the one who woke you up, so why are you leaning on her?!”

“Because my magia’s unstable.”

“Well then just recover it, geez!”

“I don’t know why, but it’s slow right now. When I touch Syltanaro, it resonates more easily and stabilizes faster.”

Naiad flinched at his serious reply, then opened her mouth again.

“T-Then just lie down again! Just… not in front of me!”

“Why?”

“Why?! Because…”

Naiad furrowed her brow.

“You look so cozy together! Like you’re shaping pottery side by side or something!”

At that, Syltanaro paused mid-stir.

“True…” Then she turned to Naiad with a teasing glint in her eye. “It does kind of look that way, doesn’t it?”

“…What?”

“Well, it can’t be helped. That’s just the destiny of a weapon and its master.” Syltanaro smiled faintly, “Even old companions can’t interfere when it comes to this.”

“W-What are you…!”

“Please take a moment to rest ‘alone.’ I’ll serve you some soup that the Demon King and I cooked together soon.”

“Youuuuuu—!”

As the two bickered over something absurd, Clay simply sat there blankly, lost in thought.

‘What was that…’

That voice he had heard after using up nearly all his magia—why had something like that been buried inside a labyrinth in the Demon Realm?

‘This won’t be easy.’

One thing was clear: he couldn’t afford to keep wasting so much time just to recover magia.

‘I need more than just Syltanaro to support me.’

Syltanaro was a weapon—meant for combat. In battle, she was meant to be wielded, not used as a stabilizer for his magia. Quite the opposite, in fact—her purpose was to help unleash it.

‘Ah…’

He remembered something.

Something he should’ve used immediately—but had avoided because of how uncomfortable it made him.

Rustle.

Clay reached into his belongings and pulled out the item.

And the moment she saw it, Naiad let out a loud cry.

“W-What are you doing, Clay?!”

“I took out the ring.”

He said, matter-of-factly.

The object Clay took out was none other than a ring. Naiad stared at it, horrified.

“N-No way, right? I mean, it’s just a weapon! You’re not giving her that too, are you?! I didn’t even get one!”

Clay had no idea what conversation she was imagining had taken place, but clearly, this misunderstanding had to be cleared up first.

“Naiad.”

He raised the ring to the index finger of his left hand.

“If you want a ring, I’ll get you one later.”

“Huh? That’s not—wait, what?!”

“But this isn’t for the reason you’re thinking.”

With that, Clay slipped the ring onto his finger.

Fwoooosh—

A tremendous surge of magia flooded into him, and Clay’s eyes lit up crimson.

“It was a gift from someone you’d probably care about, though.”

“…Who gave it to you?”

Naiad’s voice was suddenly calm, like she’d been doused in cold water. Clay answered quietly.

“Yuru.”

It was an item he hadn’t used until now, unsure if it was just a sentimental gift.

But as Clay felt the pure, refined magia stored within the ring flow into him, he exhaled like he was finally at ease.

“It’s the same Yuru you used to be close to.”

“…”

Watching the speechless Naiad, Clay raised his hand and examined the ring again.

‘It’s working properly, so I may as well test it.’

There was said to be another function hidden within Ring of Luanac

Right now, he focused solely on that, and closed his eyes tightly.

♧

One month later.

Yaphenon, devastated by Vald, was slowly returning to life—thanks to Neville’s leadership.

The ruins were cleared, and new foundations laid where buildings had crumbled.

Private aid campaigns were energized, backed by economic incentives for merchants. The number of starving people slumped on the streets had drastically decreased.

“Impressive.”

Athanasia commented as she watched the busy reconstruction effort.

“No wonder Clay trusted you.”

“You flatter me.”

Standing beside her was none other than the man responsible for this accomplishment—Neville.

“I imagine Lord Clay only sent you because I fell short.”

“I just came to gather my own followers, that’s all.”

She shrugged.

“You’ve seen what I’ve been doing.”

Upon her arrival in Yaphenon, she had immediately sought out Neville—she needed a base of operations.

He’d been surprised at first, but only briefly.

Once he learned that Clay had sent her, Neville willingly cooperated—even though she, an ancient god, had come to build a new faith that opposed Elhaen.

“Thanks to you, I’ve gained quite a few followers.”

Athanasia had followed Neville closely during his relief efforts. Entrusting her with full responsibility for them helped the people rely on her deeply.

She was skilled at manipulating public sentiment. When refugees from Donon began spreading word that the Demon King had helped them, she used that narrative to wedge doubt between Yaphenon and Krata.

She reminded people who their real savior was. And she took her time. With her followers sent from Barungenia, she continued to help people and spread her new faith.

“Never thought you’d go that far…”

The real turning point came when Neville spoke in Clay’s defense.

It hadn’t happened right away. After public opinion had begun to shift, he finally revealed that Clay had been protecting him all along.

He told them that, due to internal unrest over succession in Krata, he had fled. Clay then fabricated a kidnapping story and spread it publicly, ensuring Neville’s safety by diverting everyone’s attention.

It wasn’t something the average citizen could easily believe. After all, there was no proof that Krata’s royal succession had become unstable.

But the fact that Clay had saved people from Donon was already public knowledge—and the impact was enormous.

—The Demon King was protecting the crown prince?

—That’s insane.

—But he helped the Donon refugees too. And Krata abandoned us.

With Krata repeatedly failing to help during crises, the people’s trust was already wearing thin. This story struck deep—and the cracks spread into a collapse of faith in the Holy Alliance.

—How is the Hero who was supposedly executed still alive?

—There’s something going on that we’re not being told.

—Would the prince say something like that without reason? He’s not crazy.

Debate raged for days. Naturally, many insisted the Demon King couldn’t be trusted. Others accused Neville of being his collaborator.

But it was Neville who was saving their country—a dead nation brought back to life. He confessed that he had accepted Clay’s help simply to survive and fulfill his duty. Beyond that, he offered no excuses.

He simply acted.

And the hearts of the people began to sway.

—Still, he’s the Demon King. You can’t trust him.

—But right now, that’s not the point.

—Another god could awaken. If Krata won’t protect us… then even the Demon King is…

And the momentum tilted unmistakably in Clay’s favor.

“At first, it was just about letting two enemies fight each other. But you know…”

Watching the distant workers, Athanasia chuckled to herself.

“When faced with two enemies, people always start to pick the one that feels more like an ally. In the end,”

She laced her fingers behind her head.

“There’s no such thing as a permanent enemy.”

And beneath the surface, a new wave was forming—people were beginning to revere the Demon King.

The previous Demon King also had human collaborators. But this was different—this wasn’t born from blind fanaticism.

These people were starting to rely on him—genuinely.

Even if they didn’t realize it.

“Well… it’s just an illusion, really.”

Thinking of the part of Clay’s plan that no one else knew, Athanasia smiled quietly.

(End of Chapter)

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