The Demon King Dies, the World Goes On

The "Witchlands"—a stone's throw from the Black Forest, the encampment where the Demon King's Royal Guard lay arrayed.

Among them stood one especially large tent.

"—I wish to formally enter into matrimony."

Rereading the letter that closed with those words, the "Demon King" Galdel Grond gave a small snort.

It had all begun with information relayed from the "Witchlands."

A rumor that the "Witch Queen" Almaeira had grown intimate with another man.

The reliability of the information was uncertain, but should it spread, it would become a nuisance—it could even lead to a decline in the absolute authority of the "Demon King."

When he sent a letter ahead to question her about it, this was the reply that came back.

How much of it was true was doubtful, but on paper it read as sincere. It expressed submission to the Demon King, complete with a promise to fulfill the engagement that had long been left neglected.

But it was in that very meekness that Galdel felt something unnatural.

Now she served as a "Witch Queen," a deterrent against humanity—but her faith was genuine. He still remembered the pain of that day twenty years ago, when it had seared the Demon King's arm. Save for that one time, in these twenty years the Demon King had not suffered a single wound.

"Demon King-sama, it is nearly time."

Having accepted the invitation from the "Witch Queen," Galdel resolved to exercise the utmost caution—though he would not go so far as to bring a great army. He kept his most elite escorts at his side and maintained a mana-sensing array at all times.

To begin with, the "Witchlands" was so small a nation that one hesitated even to call it a country. To subjugate it, the Royal Guard alone would suffice. To mobilize a great army regardless would only risk inviting needless backlash.

"… Mm."

Answering the call, Galdel stepped out of the tent. It was past noon, still bright out.

At his side followed a succubus and a vampire of the Royal Guard. Both were accomplished in magic and martial arts alike, their skill by no means inferior to the chieftains of the various races.

There were many others skilled in combat, but crossing the Black Forest demanded an enormous amount of magic power.

"The guide appears to be waiting over there."

"Who has come?"

Almaeira would hardly come to greet him in person. Aery, or Charlotte, or perhaps someone else.

Receiving salutes from the Royal Guard members as he passed them, Galdel advanced toward where he had been directed, never once letting his guard down.

"She didn't strike me as anyone particularly special… just an ordinary witch, it seems. Her name is Nyrn."

"—Is that so."

He asked no more. He would simply confirm it with his own eyes.

When they had drawn quite close to the Black Forest, Galdel caught sight of a lone figure.

"You are the guide, then."

"That's correct, Demon King-sama."

The very picture of a bewitching witch. Her long black hair hid her eyes, and her voluptuous body too was draped in black.

She—the witch Nyrn—gave a reverent subject's bow and glanced up at the Demon King Galdel.

Behind her, the darkness of the forest spread like a monster's maw—indifferent to the twilight sun, the Black Forest was dark at any and every hour.

"You may already have been told, but—my humble self is called Nyrn. Unworthy as I am, I shall be serving as your guide into the domain this time. I look forward to your favor, hmm?"

"Are you well versed in the terrain here?"

The King did not answer courtesy with courtesy. He accepted it as his due. It was precisely by doing so that a king's authority could be maintained.

Nyrn shaped her lips into a genial smile and lit the lamp in one hand.

"I've been here quite a long while, since right around when Lady Almaeira arrived. As I live within the forest, I flatter myself that I know that area better than those at the castle."

"Fine."

"… Will only the three of you be heading to the castle, then?"

"This is more than sufficient."

There was no point marching the entire Royal Guard into the domain. Better to keep them on standby for the moment they might be needed.

Their role had already been fulfilled the instant they deployed. It was no different from holding a knife to the throat. In a sense, the Royal Guard was a kind of threat—nothing other than a deterrent.

"… My apologies. I spoke out of turn."

"No matter. See to your own duty."

"Yes… Then allow me to guide you. Do mind your step, won't you?"

Nyrn curled her lips into a crescent and, with graceful movements, set off into the darkness.

Galdel followed, and behind him came his two escorts.

As he walked, the Demon King Galdel considered.

This was not his first visit to the "Witchlands." In the past it had generally been Aery Heiram who came out to receive him—so what did this change signify?

One could take it that they had found a more suitable guide, but he could think of no reason to go out of their way and court danger just to swap out the guide.

Ordinarily he would not give such a trifle a second thought, but today the circumstances were different. This came after that disturbing information had reached him—it was only natural to be wary.

"Nyrn. Tell me why you were chosen as the guide."

"… Me, you mean?"

"That's right. As much as you know is fine."

Mages are skilled with words. Galdel too was a wielder of magic. A lie made up on the spot he could see through with ease.

Nyrn pressed a fingertip softly to her lips, knit her brow as if troubled, then looked back at the Demon King over her shoulder.

"I've heard that Lady Aery handled it until now. This time, it seems she is a little busy, with matters she cannot step away from."

"… Hmph."

He snorted and nodded. She did not seem to be lying, but it was information that could be interpreted any number of ways.

Taken charitably, one might suppose she was busy preparing to receive the Demon King—but Galdel was not so carefree a man as that.

"Enough. I've held you up."

"Not at all, it's nothing… From here, please do watch your step. Tree roots often jut out."

—In the end, it seems there is nothing to do but heighten my guard.

Without so much as a flicker of expression, the Demon King sighed inwardly.

   

Led along by the witch Nyrn, Galdel passed safely through the Black Forest.

Contrary to his expectations, the journey passed without incident. The darkness-shrouded forest was the ideal setting for an ambush, but perhaps for that very reason they judged his vigilance would be all the tighter.

—Or was he simply overthinking it?

Given his standing as Demon King, Galdel's enemies were many. One could never be too cautious—though often enough, such caution came to nothing but needless worry.

"Well done, Demon King-sama. My guidance ends here. An escort from the castle should already have arrived, but—"

As Nyrn said this and looked around, she caught sight of a slender figure.

Without needing to be called, the woman approached the Demon King with a composed gait and took up a saluting posture.

"Sorry to make you come all this way, Demon King-sama. If you'll wait a little, dinner should be ready—what would you like to do? It's been a troublesome road getting here; a rest might be in order."

"Charlotte, is it… No, let us settle our business first. That is acceptable, I trust?"

"Of course. Preparations to receive you are complete, whenever you like."

Charlotte beckoned Nyrn over. "I trust this one gave you no offense," she said breezily. "If there's anything you'd like looked after, hand it to Nyrn. She'll keep it safe and sound." At those added words, Nyrn smiled demurely.

Evidently she was a subordinate trusted more than a little.

The Demon King nodded magnanimously while studying Charlotte's manner—there was no abnormality plain enough to identify.

"Well then, on to the castle. Her Majesty the "Witch Queen" is waiting."

Even that tone—frivolous or not, one couldn't quite tell—was just as before. Nothing that could be called a sense of wrongness was to be felt at all.

And yet his twin horns registered a faint prickling—this was no longer a matter of reason. As if something were slipping just past the threshold of his sensing array, as if there were something he knew was present yet could not detect—.

"It's still in no state to be called a castle, same as ever, but there's no one around who'd attack us anyway. 'Rather than rebuild the walls, use the materials to put up more houses'—that's the general attitude here. When it comes to taking in outsiders, at least."

Half-listening to Charlotte's talk along the way, before long they arrived at the castle of the "Witch Queen" Almaeira.

Just as she had described, the castle still presented the same ruinous appearance as ever. There was no authority or dignity to speak of in it, yet it was equally true that the country maintained its peace.

Passing through the white gate, they climbed the crumbling stairs to the third floor.

Crossing a corridor all but open to the elements, the party drew gradually nearer to the Queen's Chamber.

All the while, the strange sense of wrongness Galdel felt only grew. His twin horns, twisted as if tracing a spiral, trembled abruptly, and he spread his sensing array all the more keenly.

At length they halted before the sturdiest of doors, and Charlotte drew her spine straight and raised her voice.

"Your Majesty! I've brought the Demon King-sama!"

"… Yes… please, come in as you are."

After a taut, ringing silence, a voice like the tinkling of a bell came drifting out.

Despite being an exceedingly small voice, it carried well beyond the room. Something that seemed to shake the brain itself, it stirred a certain bewitching allure in her, who had once been called a Saintess.

"Now then."

So saying, Charlotte pushed open the door leading within.

She and Nyrn together held the door, and the Demon King stepped into the Queen's Chamber.

—In that instant, Galdel turned his palm toward Charlotte.

He projected a formless shock born of his mana furnace.

It was pure destruction, spilled out without ever being given a spoken curse. Magic that was less than magic. For that reason the fastest of all magics, and the unique spell of the Demon King Galdel that brought only destruction—the Pure Mana Projection Spell.

Exposed to the raging storm of destruction, Charlotte was hurled far backward. Just as she was about to be dashed against the wall, she broke her fall and dropped lightly onto the floor.

A barrier deployed in the nick of time had shielded Charlotte's body.

"So you've betrayed me, Charlotte… no, all of you."

"Quick to make the call, as expected, Demon King-sama."

But she was by no means unharmed. Her black military uniform was torn to shreds, her whole body battered and bruised.

Were he to continue the attack as it was, Charlotte would soon die.

As for Nyrn, who had darted into cover, that went without saying.

But right now there was an opponent to be dealt with before either of them.

The Demon King Galdel turned his gaze to the "Witch Queen" Almaeira, seated upon the throne—and to the man standing at her side.

"A pleasure to meet you at last. Demon King."

Gray hair, a tall and well-honed build, a crisp white shirt and black coat.

He turned a gentle smile toward Almaeira, then strode forward brusquely.

The way he exchanged glances with her was, nine times out of ten, that of an intimate man and woman. Weighed together with the suspicions, there could be no room for doubt.

Galdel glanced at Almaeira and spoke with open displeasure.

"So you schemed against me, Saintess—no, Witch Queen. Has that throne of yours cursed you, degraded you into a poison woman?"

"… I have told no lie… Demon King-sama."

The "Witch Queen"—Almaeira slowly rose to her feet and spoke, in a tone far too calm for the situation.

But the words that followed were not peaceful in the least.

"… I have decided to formally enter into matrimony… With Yoal… with the person I waited and waited so very long for."

Smiling, Almaeira softly wound her slender arms around the man's neck.

In her expression there was not a shred of regret or guilt. Only the happiness and joy of being joined with the one destined for her.

If one would call her a poison woman, then she was surely fit to be one through and through.

The girl once called the "Saintess," in the very same figure that had once sung her devotion to God, gave herself to a mortal man.

With the pure lips that had once woven prayers, she shared a deep kiss brimming with love.

"So even a Saintess was, in the end, nothing but an ordinary woman."

The man was some nobody of unknown origin, but ground to pulp, it made no difference who he was.

Galdel glanced at Charlotte, who did not move, and smoothly leveled his palm forward.

"Man, give your name. What becomes of those who obstruct my path, I shall make known through your name and your life."

"Yoal. Yoal Yaotl."

Speaking his own name, Yoal stepped down from the throne's dais.

It was a name Galdel had never heard—and no wonder. Yoal was not a mage known by any particular renown.

"You're the one who got in the way of our romance first. I've no grudge against you, but you'll die."

"Words once spoken cannot be swallowed back, mage—"

So saying, in the space of an instant, Galdel gave an order to the escorts behind him.

"Hold Charlotte back. Both of you at once. She's wounded, but don't underestimate her."

The strategic-class spell Charlotte wielded was indeed extraordinary, but if several of them pinned her down from close-to-mid range, she could be dealt with without trouble. With his two most elite guards, it was more than possible. So Galdel judged.

"Yes, sir," the two escorts answered as one.

—In that instant, a silver blade pierced Galdel from his back through his chest.

"… Ga, haah…!!"

Galdel's massive frame convulsed violently, and he sprayed bloody vomit from his mouth.

The one gripping the blade was one of the escorts who had followed him, a succubus of the Royal Guard—no.

With the attack, she dispelled her deception and revealed her true form.

Aery Heiram—the finest elite of the Demon King's Army Intelligence Corps, and an assassin.

Killing a single Royal Guard member and taking her place was as easy as child's play. The real guard's life was already forfeit.

"Demon King-sama. I'll be taking your life."

   

"You!! When did you—!!"

The other escort, the vampire of the Royal Guard, drew her sword in a flash and slashed at her.

Aery ducked beneath the strike and drew a silver blade from her breast once more.

The vampire's head went flying—Aery swiftly grappled the torso, dragged it down onto the floor, and precisely destroyed the heart.

The deed done in less than a second, Aery turned back to face the Demon King.

But he had already pulled the blade from his chest and begun regenerating his body.

"—Kh."

"… You've done it now. Aery."

The palm leveled at her was like the muzzle of a cannon.

With no incantation and no cadence, a storm of destruction was loosed—the Pure Mana Projection Spell.

With a burst, the air detonated, and a torrent of force assailed the girl.

She took it at an angle, deflecting some of its force as she was blown backward.

"Ah, guh…!!"

With a hard crash, Aery was slammed against the flagstones and skidded across the floor.

It was not a fatal wound, but the kind of nimble movement she had shown before would no longer be possible.

"Every last one of you, swayed by sentiment. After that fellow, I'll have to purge the lot of you as well."

The Demon King Galdel strode into the Queen's Chamber and tossed aside the dagger caked with black blood.

Still sprawled on the ground, Aery pushed up with her arms and, groaning low, raised herself.

"… Why. Why can you still move?"

"Did you think I would answer?"

Galdel glanced at her and cut his gaze away as if his interest had faded.

The pierced wound writhed ceaselessly, continuing to regenerate the ruined tissue. The wound was by no means shallow, but it had not sufficed to incapacitate the Demon King.

"Aery, Charlotte, stand back. I'll handle the rest."

"So you're out of options. It seems you've resigned yourself—nameless mage."

"No."

Yoal shook his head and stopped Charlotte, who had started to rise in the corner of the hall.

"… Well, can't be helped." With a shrug, she sat back down where she was.

"Then there's no need for prattle."

So saying, Galdel leveled his palm toward Yoal.

In that instant, Yoal perceived it. Aery's earlier strike had indeed pierced his heart—the immense flow of his magic power had grown ever so slightly sluggish.

"Alma. Can you stop it?"

"… Mhm… Though not forever, of course—"

Before Almaeira could finish, a formless shockwave sliced through the air.

In the instant before it struck Yoal, a barrier of light unfolded in front of him and shielded him.

The Pure Mana Projection Spell that collided against it scattered and vanished, faintly distorting the holy sigil of the scales that manifested upon the barrier.

"… If it's only a few more times…"

"—Hmph."

The Demon King gave a small snort and fired his unique spell in rapid succession.

With each impact the barrier warped, and cracks like a spider's web were etched across it.

"… Yoal, you said you were terrible at fighting! Don't tell me you're just going to die like—"

"Don't panic."

He checked Nyrn's cry, which seemed to have burst out despite herself.

At that moment, a jet-black spear forged from magic power manifested in Yoal's hand.

In itself it was no more than a sturdy spear—but the curse-runes of his unique spell inscribed upon its surface were another matter.

The Demon King Galdel eased off his attack slightly and watched Yoal intently.

Was it a show of wariness, or was he merely waiting for his magic power to recover?

"You mean to kill me with that? I've been taken lightly indeed."

"No. I'm not taking you lightly at all. This is no ordinary spear."

"… Oh?"

Galdel curled his lips in contempt—plainly, he did not regard the spear as any great threat.

Yoal advanced casually, quietly closing the distance to the Demon King.

"This here's a proper magic spear. It never misses a vital point. It'll pierce the heart of whoever it targets, without fail, and kill them."

"Fool. I know a true wielder of the magic spear. A wielder beyond all comparison to the likes of you… Terrible at fighting, you said? To think you would block my path with that—utterly laughable."

"Yeah. I know them too."

"… What?"

The moment the Demon King's expression abruptly twisted.

With a whir, Yoal's figure blurred and vanished from where he stood.

"—"

An instant too fleeting even to permit a word.

After a moment shorter than eternity,

—BOOM!!

The thrust that shot forth tore a gaping hole through the Demon King's chest, blasting away his entire sternum.

"Gobo…!?"

A strike loosed entirely from beyond his perception.

Galdel's reaction came a beat too late, and by the time he noticed, he was spewing bloody vomit and everything else from every hole in his body.

"GA—AAAAAAAAHHH!?!?"

Even after a second passed, the regeneration did not begin.

And no wonder—for by that overwhelming force, his mana furnace had been utterly blasted away.

The Demon King collapsed on the spot, thrashing and writhing as he convulsed violently.

Drenched in the black backsplash of blood, Yoal whipped the jet-black spear through the air with a swish to flick it clean.

Everyone who witnessed the result caught their breath.

After all, no one understood what had happened—an event that could only be described as, "before anyone knew it, the Demon King had fallen."

"… Did you do it?"

"Yeah. There's no saving him now."

Yoal declared it flatly.

—Unless the Demon King possessed several times the vitality of the aberrations swarming the Underworld Border, that is.

"… Liar. 'Terrible at fighting,' my foot. Yoal, you were hiding power like that?"

"I wasn't hiding it. I've shown you before."

"… Huh?"

Nyrn's eyes went wide as if dumbfounded.

Yet there was not a single falsehood in his words.

The trick, once revealed, was a dull one.

Yoal Yaotl's unique spell—Subjective Time Acceleration (Accelerator). In principle, its power had no limit.

Against Charlotte he had accelerated only a few times over at most, but if he willed it, he could accelerate hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of times—just as Yoal had done now.

"I really am terrible at fighting. Breaking things and killing, though—those I'm great at."

"… That's an outrageous load of sophistry…"

"Alma's letter was pretty bad too."

"… Ehehe. We match, don't we…?"

"More like well-suited than matching, I'd say."

While each of them traded flippant remarks as they pleased, the Demon King spewed his innards from his mouth.

It was a state that convinced even the man himself he was now beyond saving.

Almaeira walked over to the Demon King and looked down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"… Farewell. Thank you for your care all this time… I don't think I'll be able to keep my promise… not even in the next life."

Whether she was picking a fight or apologizing was hard to tell, but perhaps that too was her own way of drawing a line under things.

The Demon King groaned and, in his agony, spun out words of curse.

"… You… all of you… you think you'll… get away with… something like this…"

"You, die now."

"Bghhk."

Yoal's spear-point smashed the Demon King's head flat. The lump of flesh burst, and black blood scattered all around.

—The Demon King Galdel Grond died an anticlimactic death.

   

"Oh my, what's this—you've already finished them off?"

A lustrous, sweet voice rang out through the Queen's Chamber.

The owner of the voice—a figure smaller even than Almaeira, smaller than Aery.

Swaying her black hair tied in a single tail, she descended from empty air onto the crumbling castle wall.

"… You, what are you doing in a place like—"

"It's been a long while, Aery. Don't get so worked up—I've business of my own here."

The witch Sherah—the Legendary Witch Queen Sherah.

Baring her brown skin unabashedly through black gossamer, a vermilion spear in one hand, she stepped into the Queen's Chamber.

"… Master, huh."

Yoal looked at her with a bitter expression.

Sherah cast him a suggestive sidelong glance and gave a faint chuckle in her throat.

"Mm, Yoal. Well done. It's been only a little while since you left the Underworld Border, and already—quite the fine man you've become, hmm?"

"… Because you drilled me. To the point I hated it."

"Nonsense, it's thanks to your own gifts."

Those words were by no means mere modesty.

In particular, Yoal's unique spell—the Time Acceleration Spell—owed a great deal to his natural aptitude.

The principle of the Time Acceleration Spell was exceedingly simple. Namely, the increase of momentum per unit of time through the combined use of Physical Enhancement and Sensory Enhancement.

Simple enough to put into words, but no one other than Yoal could actually accomplish it.

Physical Enhancement means making the body heavy, dull, and unyielding. Sensory Enhancement means making the body light, sharp, and supple.

The relationship between the two is like ice and fire. Used at once, they cancel each other out, yielding no effect and consuming only magic power—so it would go for an ordinary mage.

But in Yoal Yaotl's case alone, it was not so.

Having died once in the living world, crossed into the Underworld and sunk into the sea of sins, then been drawn up from there and brought to another world—the Underworld Border.

As a result of the strange experience of traversing the three realms, Yoal gained a singular property: an aptitude for magic pertaining to time, and to space.

By the application of that singular axis of time, the two opposing spells could coexist, producing explosive power.

That was the essence of Yoal's unique spell.

"… There's no doubt it served me well. My thanks, once again."

"Nonsense, it's fine. I received my thanks in advance long ago, after all—no?"

Sherah chuckled and looked meaningfully at Almaeira.

"… Y-you can't. Yoal is… mine…!"

She gripped Yoal's sleeve tightly and tugged him toward her invitingly.

"My aim's another matter, current "Witch Queen." And what an unexpectedly naive little thing you are, too—I am Sherah. The witch Sherah. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"… A pleasure to meet you. I am Almaeira. Almaeira Serenarie… Although, for me, this isn't the first time…"

Though that too was only in a dream. Almaeira gave her name and bowed her head in a little dip of greeting.

Two figures standing primly side by side.

The current and the former "Witch Queen."

The one openly wary, the other facing her with ease.

"… So then… do you have some business here? … Not with Yoal?"

"The one I've business with is that fellow there."

Sherah rapped the butt of her vermilion spear against the floor with a clack and wove words of curse.

In that instant, the Demon King's corpse rose of its own accord. Limp, its head hanging, it fell in at her side.

"… Th-that's—"

"Hey, Master, what are you—"

"Pay it no mind. Just a bit of amusement."

"A hobby."

"This one caused me his share of trouble too, after all. Kuku, I'd been meaning to work him to the bone after he died."

"Your taste is the worst…"

Yoal let out an unwitting sigh, but Almaeira, if anything, felt her chest ease with relief.

No doubt because it had become clear her aim was not Yoal.

"Now then, while I'm at it. There were bothersome flies gathered outside—you lot, lend a hand! None of you are seriously hurt anyway!"

So saying, Sherah beckoned over Aery, Charlotte, and Nyrn.

"No need to tell me. I was set to clean them up from the start," said Charlotte—her strategic-class spell would serve well enough even against the Royal Guard.

"It galls me to take orders from you, but it can't be helped," said Aery—she already had a perfect grasp of the encampment's inner workings.

"… I-is there anything for me to do…?" said Nyrn—her gaze darting left and right in a fluster, unable to keep up with the situation.

"Very well. I'll instruct you personally… The price for me carting off this fellow is a spot of housecleaning outside. That's acceptable, yes?"

Sherah poked at Galdel's corpse with the butt of her spear and asked.

Yoal nodded without objection. The thing was in the way, so having her cart it off was welcome, if anything.

"Awfully generous of you, Master."

"Nothing of the sort—call it a celebration in advance. You two are getting married, aren't you?"

"Of course."

"… Eh, ah, eh!? … Y-yes…"

At Yoal's immediate answer, Almaeira shrank down, blushing.

"Pull yourself together. You'll have no shortage of rivals as a woman, you know? Look here, this one's got all that useless fat hanging off her."

"Who are you calling useless fat!?"

Pointed at by the tip of the vermilion spear, Nyrn was greatly indignant. Paying her no mind, Sherah chuckled and smiled at Almaeira.

"Besides, that fellow may not be mine—but his first time belongs to me, you know?"

Almaeira answered her resolutely.

"… If his first belongs to you… then his last belongs to me… I am Yoal's last woman."

At those words, Sherah's eyes went round, blank with astonishment.

The next moment, she laughed low in her throat—then broke into peals of laughter, shoulders shaking, tipping her face up to the heavens.

Well said, Yoal thought, and even he managed a wry smile at this.

"… Wh-what's so funny…!"

"Oh, nothing… I take back calling you naive. Quite the woman you are, truly."

After laughing her fill, Sherah nodded as if impressed and turned her back.

"Now then, shall we be off, you lot. Mustn't trouble the bride and groom, after all."

"You needn't tell me."

"… Ugh, fine, whatever happens happens!"

Aery and Nyrn followed after her. Charlotte, too, as she started walking, looked back at Yoal once.

"… Honestly, I never thought it would go this well. Sorry about all that."

"My bad. I wanted to keep my trump card hidden."

"There's always the chance of a leak, after all. With this, the negotiations should come together without a hitch too."

So saying, she once more fell in behind Sherah.

Seeing them off, Almaeira waved her hand busily.

"… Please come back safe… It's a promise, all right…!"

"Mm." "Of course." "Aye." "I'm not about to die after being made to watch all that lovey-dovey…!" the four of them answered, each in their own scattered way.

Yoal at least made ready to step in should the need arise—but Sherah alone was surely overkill. He didn't imagine there would be so much as a hair's worth of losses on their side.

"Have faith and it'll be fine… With this, it's all over."

"… Yes… And you were so strong too, Yoal…"

"… I'd just as soon never have to use it again, though."

To that end, the "Witchlands" had secretly conducted negotiations with the various dissident tribes.

Namely, the forging of an alliance conditioned upon the Demon King's assassination. A treaty to establish a framework of cooperation after the collapse of the current regime.

A fighting force capable of killing the Demon King was, in itself, a threat that would compel them to keep their word. In that sense, it was a promise with more than enough force behind it.

"… Even if something were to happen… I think that with you, Yoal, it'll be all right…"

"That's… rather an ill omen to say."

"… I'm counting on you, all right…?"

Almaeira smiled with a soft giggle. Yoal shrugged as if troubled and mussed her platinum hair.

Almaeira took a cloth from her breast and neatly wiped away the blood that had spattered over the man.

"Alma."

"… Yes?"

"Let's get married."

"Fweh…?"

S-so sudden, that's, no fair—but heedless of Almaeira shaking her head in little trembles, Yoal stole her lips.

Eyes melting in rapture, they gazed at each other and pressed their lips together deeply. Lips and tongues caressing intimately, they lost themselves in the kiss as if exchanging a vow.

Each with the last person they would ever have.

—As if in celebration of the marriage between the Demon-King-slaying mage and the Witch Queen, a rain of slaughter raged in the distance.