Leon wasn’t the only one thoroughly confused. Hinata was having similar trouble dealing with this rapidly changing battlefield. But even worse than that, her opponent Granville was starting to seem eerily different.
“Finding it odd that you can’t steal my skills?”
“…?!”
He had guessed right. It made Hinata nervous, despite herself.
“Hmph. Why the surprise? Did you think I never picked up on your secret? A little observation, and it was easy enough to surmise. Why do you think I had the other six fighting in front of me?”
“Ah… I see.”
Hinata’s unique skill Usurper gave her a decisive advantage against the most powerful of foes…and yet it assessed Granville as “inapplicable.” Previously, Granville definitely was above her, and whenever they trained, she constantly used Usurper until it succeeded, seizing—or more accurately at the time, copying—his skills.
“You have some way of taking skills and arts from opponents, do you not? But I imagine that only works once on the same foe…and you’ve already taken from me, haven’t you? So it won’t work twice.”
“That couldn’t be…”
Hinata found herself reacting to Granville’s statement—and then she realized her mistake.
“Heh-heh-heh… So I was right? Hinata, you are a calculating woman, one of the greatest talents among all my apprentices. You are careful and cunning. Out of all the paladins of the past, nobody has ever reached your level. You should take pride in that, but you are still young. You’re far too unfamiliar with opponents of your own level.”
“Enough!!” the clearly provoked Hinata shouted back. But she understood Granville was egging her on. Thanks to her reflexive reaction, she had inadvertently admitted that her skill was stealing other people’s powers. Granville had his hunches about it before, no doubt, but couldn’t be sure about it. Now, with his social engineering skills, he knew it for a fact.
Who’s the cunning one here?!
Despite being wholly devoted to battle at the moment, Granville kept talking to Hinata. The carefree ease he exuded made her resent him even more.
“Even if I only took you once, that’s all I need. I wouldn’t look down on me that much.”
She made no secret of her hostility. After all, she had one more trick up her sleeve—Force Takeover. Now she was doing more than just copying someone else’s skill. She was forcibly wresting it away from them, for good. It would let her strip away one of Granville’s cards, and it all but guaranteed her victory.
To Hinata, the preliminaries were over. She began a relentless attack, each sword strike a potentially lethal blow. At the same time, she continually activated Usurper, attempting to sap Granville’s power. But:
No… My skill has to work against him! But…?!
The results: inapplicable. Proof that Granville’s actual power was below Hinata’s. Right now, she had grown far more powerful than before. It wouldn’t be strange for her to surpass Granville, so these results were understandable. The only problem was that even when she seized a skill with Force Takeover—her final lifeline—Granville would just use that skill again the next instant. It happened over and over, no matter how many times she tried it.
It was now impossible to hide her panic. She was definitely capable of taking Granville’s skills and arts—but to Hinata, they were useless. She had already taken them once, and thus she gained nothing from them. If she could at least take away some of Granville’s skills, there’d be a point to it, but…
Why? Did Granville anticipate this and set up some kind of backup system?
It wasn’t out of the question. No regular person could do it, but she could picture an ex-hero like Granville pulling something like that off.
“What’s wrong, Hinata? You look unwell.”
Granville, a sneering grin on her face, seemed to read Hinata’s mind. It irritated her to no end.
“Hmm… It seems you don’t understand what I’m doing. The most important thing in battle is to carefully observe your opponent. Did you expect me to not take any sort of measures against you? If so, you sorely underestimated me, Hinata.”
“Geh! Enough from you.”
“I can see from your fighting style that you retain an advantage against foes stronger than you. Meanwhile, there are few examples of you seizing skills from weaker opponents. I say few and not zero, however, so you must have some kind of method for that. But the effort must exhaust you, does it not?”
“…”
“You don’t have to answer me. Looking at you, I’m now convinced my suppositions are correct.”
Being so completely seen through was a shock to Hinata. Somewhere in her mind, she was looking down upon Granville as a relic from the past—and now she wanted to punch herself over it.
“Ngh… No, I doubt there’s any point in continuing this.”
There was no reason to keep up her attempts at Force Takeover. With that decision made, Hinata retreated a distance away from Granville. Gathering her breath, she looked for a suitable opportunity. Her heart rate was setting a new record, the sweat from her brow pouring down. Then, with a thump, she could sense a small throbbing inside her, deep within her chest.
…What was that? I’ve tired myself out more than I thought. But not because I miscalculated this. Maybe I’m being attacked…
Impartially observing herself, she realized that her exhaustion was stacking up more quickly than usual. Even all the Force Takeover attempts wouldn’t have gassed her this much—but as Granville pointed out, her fatigue could no longer be ignored.
“You seem confused. You are powerful, Hinata, very powerful. That must be why you have so little experience with underhanded combat techniques such as this.”
“What was that?”
“It’s simple. My actions are designed to make you overwork yourself. Little by little, I made you wear yourself down, believing that your attacks would succeed if you just pushed a little more, a little more. Listen to me. If you confront someone on the same level as you, whichever side tires the other out first wins. The more fatigued you are, the slower your decisions, and the wider you leave yourself open…just as you are personally experiencing right now.”
“…!!”
She wanted to deny Granville’s claims, but she couldn’t.
Hinata had used her unique skill Measurer to calmly analyze the battle situation…or so she thought. But Granville went one step beyond. She thought she was overly on her guard. Yes, she underestimated him a little, but she didn’t let her guard down at all.
So does it mean this man’s stronger than me? That… That must be the case. It’s the difference in level here, brought on by experience.
She was now convinced—convinced and ready to admit to it. Even with Usurper, she couldn’t take Granville’s expertise.
“Now I understand. I see I’ll have to get serious if I want to defeat you.”
“That’s right. Give me all you’ve got. Otherwise, trying to outclass me will be a dream beyond a dream for you.”
Hinata banished the ambient noise from her mind, focusing squarely on Granville. The sound disappeared. They were the only people present in the world.
“Here I come, Granville!”
“I hope you learn from this, Hinata!”
Thus, Hinata and Granville’s battle grew even more heated as time went on.
The multilayered Disintegration unleashed by Diablo smashed into Raine’s defense barrier, destroying pieces of it in succession…and then, the final ray pierced through her chest. Everything had gone the way he had calculated it, including the fact that Raine was still breathing.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh… How weak. You were even less competition for me than Testarossa before her evolution.”
“T-Testarossa?”
“Never mind. It has nothing to do with you. But explain to me why you came here.”
“Who would ever—?!”
Diablo was barking orders from high above, but Raine saw no reason to oblige him. Her predictable refusal irked him a little.
He had clearly beaten Raine, but that didn’t mean it was smooth sailing from now on. The perfectly formed insectoid he was having Shion and Ranga deal with really was the nemesis of all the demons. He was an unusual creature, one who lived in the space between the material and spiritual world. As a half-spiritual life-form, whenever he slipped into the physical realm, he’d naturally assume a palpable form and become a burdensome invader. A group of them was extremely dangerous, requiring quick detection and extermination.
Even worse, an insectoid attaining humanoid form was quite rare. Most examples settled into some more primitive form, finding themselves not quite suited for life in the material realm. But Razul, this insectoid here, was in his final and complete state—and Diablo could see why even Shion and Ranga would find him a handful.
Of course, Lady Shion works under Sir Rimuru. She has the potential to do well near anything to overcome her foes’ strength. And with Sir Ranga around, there’s no need to assume they’d lose. Still, though…
Diablo could win. It would suit Rimuru more, he knew, if he eliminated all the question marks from the battle. Right now, going back and taking care of Razul would be the right thing to do…
…But then another thought crossed his mind. What, he reasoned, if Rimuru deliberately left Razul to Shion and Ranga? Diablo was flustered earlier, true. He detected Raine’s arrival and didn’t want her (or her cohorts) joining the fray, and the distraction had kept him from focusing on the battle.
I thought it best at the time to drive her away as soon as possible, but…
But was it, really?
Perhaps Sir Rimuru wanted Lady Shion and Sir Ranga to experience battle against someone stronger than them? In that case, it wouldn’t be right to intrude…
That seemed plausible to Diablo. Truly, these were the thoughts of someone crazed for battle, a nonsensical conclusion that no regular person could ever imagine. But to Diablo, who placed Rimuru above all else, doing anything that went against Rimuru’s intentions was a gross error. He wasn’t some simple creature who assumed that fighting, and winning, was all that mattered. He could see that if Rimuru wanted to give them such a powerful foe, he truly wanted them to win—and learn from it.
A difficult decision. This will require careful consideration on my part.
Now Diablo’s thoughts were starting to spiral in a pretty wrong direction. In front of Raine, the highest level of fighting force in the world, Diablo was thoroughly confused.
Rimuru, of course, was thinking of nothing so idiotic. What he cared about was putting an end to this fracas, while keeping the children and orchestra safe. He had no obligation at all to see this as some kind of training situation for Shion and Ranga.
So Diablo was wrong. But with that wrong idea in mind, he now had a new path to take.
“I was going to kill you, but I decided against it.”
“What are you talking about…? Threats won’t work on me—”
“No need for that, thank you. I don’t need your act any longer, so come on out,” he told the demon with a large hole in her chest.
Raine didn’t seem to understand this. In short time, however, her expression turned to panic. It wasn’t the pale face from before as she faced defeat, but something rather more complex—a mixture of frustration and hatred.
“Noir… You only just evolved into a Demon Peer after all this time, and look at you…”
“Just as set in your ways as always, I see. The true essence of strength does not lie in magicule counts. What’s important is your level. I was taught to believe that differences in magicule energy do not make a decisive difference in battle ability.”
“Ridiculous,” replied Raine, her voice raspy as her body began to fade away. By the time she was fully gone, nothing but dust in the wind, a ray of light shot out from beyond the heavens, only to disappear and reveal two people—blue and red. Raine was the blue one, and she was kneeling before Guy Crimson, the strongest of demons, who had just entered the scene.
“Hey, Noir! It’s been a while.”
“Mm… Rouge—or Guy Crimson now, I believe? So you were here, too, then?”
Diablo was wary of Guy from the start, even as Guy seemed to view him with nostalgia.
“So you noticed Raine’s Ubiquital Mist from the start? So why did you execute such a large-scale skill on her?”
Diablo scowled, dreading this question. He had intended to feign ignorance of this skill, allowing her to divide up and regenerate her body with a second copy. His original plan was to make Guy and Raine (in her original body) believe that here was a man who wouldn’t give them great trouble. If Diablo destroyed Raine’s Ubiquital Mist body, got all cocky, and left the scene, Guy would no doubt lose hope in him, as well as lose interest in this whole battle. He’d leave on the spot, and thus Diablo could buy more time while hiding his full powers from him. Then he could go support Shion and the rest.
That plan was now mothballed, thanks to Diablo’s own desires. Even he could admit to it—now was no time to stage an act.
“Disintegration wouldn’t be enough to defeat Primal Demons like us, would it? This parlor trick doesn’t even qualify as a secret trump card.”
“Wow, is that what you have to say? If I took a direct hit of that, not even I would survive unscathed.”
“Indeed. The same is true for me…if it were a direct hit.”
“Heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Keh-heh-heh-heh…”
Diablo’s answer made Guy burst into self-satisfied laughter. Diablo did the same, still hoping to look unfazed. At this point, Raine was all but invisible to them.
“So why didn’t you evolve until this point in time? You had no interest in dragging others down, unlike the other three.”
“Mm… You could say they’re dragging one another down, yes, but really, it’s just a game they enjoy. You’re right, though, that I have no part in it. As for myself, Guy, let me ask you—is there anyone in this world stronger than us?”
The question was similar to what Testarossa asked. It was a view shared across all the Primal Demons, Guy included. Bringing up common ground like this made it easier to stoke kinship with each other.
“No, there sure isn’t. Maybe the True Dragon, if I had to bring up a name, but that’s more of a phenomenon of nature, y’know?”
Even the True Dragon wasn’t a threat before Guy. If Veldanava, the Star-King Dragon, was ever revived, that’d be another story, but as of right now, Guy was telling the truth.
Diablo nodded. “Precisely. So if I evolved while knowing that, any battle afterward would seem so boring. So one-sided, wouldn’t you agree?”
He grinned at Guy. His battle-obsessed brain was working hard as usual.
“Hmm… I see.”
Guy, for his part, seemed convinced. Maybe he would deny it, but the two of them were actually fairly alike—two kindred spirits, when it came to this topic.
“So did the slime give you a change of heart?”
“Sir Rimuru. I’ll ask you to not refer to him as slime, please.”
“…All right. So is that Rimuru guy the reason you evolved?”
Diablo’s adjusting the pace of this conversation to suit his tastes irked Guy, but complaining wouldn’t help advance things. He hated playing by the beat of a different drummer, but this time, he chose to make an exception.
“Very good,” muttered Diablo. “The growth of Sir Rimuru, you see, is a constant surprise to me. I wouldn’t be afraid to call it evolution in action. His looks are charming; his soul brimming with refinement. And what’s more—”
“Is this going to go on for a while?”
Diablo met Guy’s stare, as if to say What did you expect?
“I don’t need to hear about Rimuru. Let’s talk about you, all right?”
This annoyed Diablo a bit—but perhaps remembering the urgency of the situation around them, he acquiesced.
“Tch… Well, all right. Let us return to the topic at hand. Sir Rimuru’s compatriots, as well, are changing rapidly from day to day…and I think seeing that has influenced me.”
“…Hmm. That much?”
This chat seemed to be tiring Guy out, but he still had the wherewithal to scrutinize what Diablo just said.
“Indeed. I fear that if I do not make an effort of my own, even I might be left in the dust. And in that sort of environment, there is no longer any reason to set limits to my growth.”
A fascinated Guy nodded. Now things were going at his pace again. He unleashed an evil grin.
“It does sound like Rimuru’s got the nations to the West under his control now, yeah. But I’m sorry to say, my own people are wreckin’ the place right now, I think.”
To Guy, this was just some playful harassment of the human race. That was his intention, at least—but to Rimuru, so driven to play nice with humanity, it must’ve been a serious crisis. That’s what made Guy mention it. He could see that none of this surly behavior would work on Diablo, but if he could get under Rimuru’s skin, he knew that’d have its effect on Diablo as well. Thus, if his minions happened to be messing around in the Western Nations at the moment, he thought he could take advantage.
The sight of Diablo—someone who fought evenly with Guy in the past—calling someone his master put Guy off a bit. So he wanted to mess with him, stir him up. With Razul gone from his usual post up north, the Western Nations were vulnerable. Much of it, like Guy warned, was no doubt looking like hell on earth by now. Diablo wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and as Guy saw it, not even Rimuru could take action.
But Diablo just gave him his trademark snicker instead.
“Keh-heh-heh… You thought Sir Rimuru didn’t see it coming? It has all been taken care of. His wisdom, you see, is deeper than the ocean, his perception giving him insight into all things—”
Guy thought that would agitate Diablo at least a little. It didn’t. In fact, he chose this moment in time to revert back to praising Rimuru. He must be sick in the head, he thought, facing no choice but to accept it.
“…Ah. Yes, very interesting. You think he’s surpassing even my expectations?”
“Yes, of course. For Sir Rimuru, that is a given.”
Diablo continued to verbally taunt Guy about Rimuru for a while, despite Rimuru not actually being there. If he was, he would no doubt shout, What the hell are you doing?! Only Raine was listening, biting her lip—but Guy and Diablo were wholly ignoring her as they continued.
………
……
…
Meanwhile, the Western Nations were facing a danger unprecedented in their history.
The Cidre Frontier Defense Force, always busily handling the demon threat, suddenly found its main offense gone. No longer able to push back the demons who visited their territory regularly, they sent out an emergency request for reinforcements.
“Ridiculous! The demon forces are advancing southward?!”
“What could Margrave Cidre possibly be doing?!”
“We can’t think about that right now. Every nation needs to deploy its troops and build a layered set of defense bases! Otherwise, we’ll have a marauding army of demons right here, in the capital of Englesia!”
All the representatives at this emergency Council session were in an uproar.
Being composed of councillors from all its member nations, the Council of the West held a great deal of political power—but when it came to sudden crises, there was always going to be time wasted. That was the biggest disadvantage of a majority-vote system.
The defense of the northern regions was left entirely in the hands of Margrave Cidre of Englesia. It was a large, powerful kingdom, and still a good half of its military strength was stationed up north, forming a bulwark against Guy Crimson. They were joined by several members of the Crusaders, as well as a team of A-ranked adventurers from the Free Guild, which functioned as a subsidiary of the Council. That was how important a defensive line this was. Losing it could be a matter of life and death for humanity, and thus the panic around the Council chamber was understandable.
Currently, they were just barely hanging on to the base defined as their last line of defense, and even that was thanks to the paladins and adventurers stationed there. Considering the situation, they needed to deploy troops there immediately, but time would not allow it. This wasn’t a monolithic dictatorship; it was a federation of independent nations, and each representative needed permission from their home state.
The only thing the Council could do right away was call for emergency backup from the Free Guild. They could also ask the Council’s host nation of Englesia to deploy its regular forces, but the request was likely to fall on deaf ears, since it’d leave the capital more exposed. Besides, Englesia was already shouldering the burden of defending the north; nobody would fault it for asking other nations for support in an emergency.
Like the lesser-known Council members were currently shouting, it was time to create a federated, multination force. The problem, however, was that all these disparate armies would be led by the brand-new member nation of Tempest, the land of monsters. The Council had unanimously voted for it, so there was no room to complain about it now—but leaving precious military resources in the hands of monsters presented a thorny dilemma to many councillors.
“Order, all of you, please!” shouted the chairman. The noise gradually died down as all eyes turned toward him.
“Right now, we can’t afford to waste a single minute. Instead of debating among ourselves, we must immediately contact our home nations and have them send forces our way. The demon lord Rimuru’s representative, Lady Testarossa, is in attendance today, and I understand she is well versed in military affairs. If Sir Rimuru appointed her, I am sure leaving our forces in her hands will not be an issue.”
The chairman’s words were greeted with some sporadic disagreement, but no one stood up and spoke on the record against it. With no better ideas forthcoming, lodging complaints now would only make things worse.
Now all eyes were on Testarossa. If the Council was raising an army, she’d be its de facto commander—it was only expected that everyone was appraising her abilities now. She was a young woman, a rarity among the councillors, and a beauty the likes of which one rarely lays eyes upon. Many councillors had the impression that Tempest featured a lot of pretty faces, but no one was foolish enough to say as much here. Everyone’s focus was on whether this woman Testarossa truly had any power.
It may have been an exaggeration to say, but on this debate rode not only the future of each councillor, but the future of humankind itself.
“L-Lady Testarossa,” began one councillor, finally drumming up the courage to speak. “Um, I fully recognize that asking this might be considered rude, but are you capable of commanding a military force?”
Testarossa gave him a gleaming smile. “Do not despair, councillors. My master, Sir Rimuru, has ordered me to defend all the nations that belong to the Council of the West. In fact, my own personnel have already been deployed across the land. And also… Moss?”
“Yes. According to the latest information, reliable reinforcements have now arrived in the north.”
“Wh-what?!”
“Is that true?”
The councillors didn’t even have the time to realize that Moss was likely one of Testarossa’s assistants. What he had to say sent the hall into another furor.
“S-so what reinforcements are these, Lady Testarossa?”
“Moss?”
“Yes, my lord. A dragon airship from the Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion is currently on its way to the area. I am sure that high elf’s forces are more than capable of dispatching the low-level demons threatening the region.”
“You heard him, Chairman. And, Moss, she is more than just a high elf. She is a sworn friend of Lord Rimuru.”
“Ah…! My—my apologies…”
“Don’t make that mistake again, all right? From now on, you will refer to her as Lady Elmesia.”
“Y-yes, my lord.”
Moss withered under the gaze of Testarossa’s crimson eyes. He turned pale, realizing he could no longer behave like the demon-world prince he once was. Angering Testarossa would lead to his ruin—and even worse, disrespecting someone Rimuru recognized as a friend was an error he couldn’t forgive himself for. Testarossa, likely realizing that, let him off with just a warning this time. If Moss didn’t correct his insolent ways, she’d no doubt punish him for it the next instant. That applied even to him, a great demon who had served Testarossa for ages. She was a woman possessed of kindness and ruthlessness in equal measure.
The Council she sat in was a scene of chaos. The words she and Moss exchanged provided an overview of the situation, but there was still no evidence to back them up. Opinion was clearly split on whether to trust them.
“I will speak for my nation when I say that I trust Lady Testarossa.”
“Indeed, our nation’s of the same opinion. I want Lady Testarossa to command our forces!”
“It would be the height of irresponsibility! If something should happen, it will be far too late then!”
“Exactly! If this talk of reinforcements turns out to be a ruse, the demons will trample all over human civilization!”
Unity was now in short supply across the Council as the debate continued to heat up. Testarossa calmly watched matters unfold, listening instead of offering her own opinion. After a little time had passed, though, she suddenly spoke.
“Ah, it was you? I thought you might be here.”
The sudden statement invited confusion among the councillors, many failing to understand what she was talking about. Only one among them—the person her eyes were presently aimed at—broke out in a cold sweat, the color draining from his face. It was Prince Johann Rostia of the Kingdom of Rostia.
“Wh-what are you saying about me?” he asked, trying his best to hide his apprehension. But Testarossa simply arched her lips upward. It made him lose his patience.
“I—I knew monsters weren’t to be trusted! Only we can step up to defend humankind. Guards! Guards, come out now!”
He was now dramatically shouting, sweat running down his face in a portrait of despair. Meanwhile, Testarossa’s smile only broadened.
Following Johann’s orders, soldiers began to pour into the Council hall. Some of Johann’s personal guards were among them, their presence putting him more at ease. Testarossa elegantly played with her hair as the other councillors sat there, bewildered.
Johann’s behavior was beyond illogical. Even if Testarossa did have some malevolent intent, any unlawful violence would never be allowed in a hall of laws like the Council. No matter how important a figure Johann was in here, such arbitrary behavior would never be smiled upon.
“Your name was Johann Rostia, right? Prince of Rostia? A very high figure, aren’t you?”
“Wh-what of it? Flattery will get you nowhere—”
“Sir Johann, who were you talking to in a magical call just now?”
“Wha…?!”
“And why did you send out an order to have this nation’s defensive barrier destroyed?”
“H-how did you…?”
“Would you mind explaining?”
Testarossa was relaxed, as if chatting over tea, as she painted Johann into a corner. The other councillors looked on in awe. Now was no time for confusion. They all immediately ordered their staff to check on the state of Englesia’s barrier. But before they had an answer, the entire land around them began to rumble.
“It—it’s true…?!”
“Destroy the barrier? If you do that, there’s no defense against the monsters. We’ll lose countless citizens!”
“What could possibly be the meaning of this, Sir Johann?! Answer me!”
When confronted with someone in a panic, most people are hardwired to either fall into a similar panic or take a step back and calm down. Johann was the latter. Realizing that his plans were complete, he let a relaxed smile creep upon his face.
“Sir Girard, the barrier is gone now. It’s time to call them out…”
The councillors, seeing the figure Johann was addressing, were startled.
“It— It’s the head of the Sons of the Veldt, that mercenary gang…”
“…Girard!”
“…The Veldt’s connected with Sir Johann, too? Not just Gaban?!”
“But what’s Sir Johann going to do with them?”
Ignoring these cries, Girard walked up to Johann, standing beside him.
“Yes,” he said, “our contract is now ratified. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Oh, not at all. The last hope of our mutual master Granville Rozzo happens to match your mission as well. No need to hold back now. If you’re going to raze this land, be as showy as you can about it!”
Now Johann’s laughter rang loud across the hall, the light of reason no longer visible in his eyes. His face was transformed into something fiendish as he revealed his true colors to all. At long last, the councillors realized Johann had betrayed them—but the kingdom’s defense barrier was already destroyed. And as they gradually understood this, despair began to reign.
“Have at it, Ayn.”
The woman Girard called Ayn began to cast a spell—a summon spell.
Ayn was an elementalist and the leader of Green Fury, the team that made it far into the Dungeon not long ago. But this was no spirit she was summoning this time. It was, in fact, the very deity the Sons of the Veldt worshipped as their spiritual leader.
A large, oval-shaped transport gate appeared, a living personification of power stepping through it. It was a beautiful girl with green hair and a crimson-red maid outfit—but everyone witnessing it could sense how dangerous she was. After all, despite her attractive looks, the aura she unleashed plunged the entire hall into hopelessness. The magical inquisitors who ran in, sensing the danger, were frozen in place; their instincts told them that any movement could very well kill them.
This was Mizeri the Demon Peer, stepping out from the darkness.
Despite the overwhelming despair, Johann looked supremely pleased with himself.
He recalled the last time Granville called for him, after Gaban’s fall reduced the Five Elders to four—Granville Rozzo of the Rozzo family, Margrave Cidre of Englesia, King Doran of the Kingdom of Doran, and himself. They had all come together at Granville’s bidding, and he had a fearsome final order for them.
“Maribel is dead—and with that, the Rozzos will likely meet their doom soon. Perhaps, depending on how one looks at it, we could reconcile with the monsters after all. If they show no interest in human territories like Lady Luminus, it may even be possible to coexist. But the demon lord Rimuru is seeking nothing less than complete rule over humankind. He must be stopped at all costs.”
“But, Sir Granville, any attempts along those lines are doomed if we have no realistic way of resisting him.”
“I understand what Maribel was concerned about, but if we’ve lost our Chaos Dragon, there’s nothing we can do. We have Razul under our control, but we can hardly move him around…”
Doran was being realistic, with Cidre offering his support and Johann in agreement. Johann knew well the threat Maribel posed, as young as she was, and the demon lord Rimuru’s victory over her filled him with fear. For now, he thought, our best plan is to pretend to do Rimuru’s bidding as we build up our power. But Granville, perhaps sensing this internal weakness within Johann, fired back.
“Have you fools all lost your nerve? No matter how much chaos is in the world, no matter how much we sacrifice, we humans must retain the right to rule over ourselves. Am I wrong?”
His sheer vigor took Johann and the others aback. Granville rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve, which made his deep-seated anger and rage all the more clear to them.
“I am tired. If this keeps up, the human world will perish and the demon lord Rimuru will rule over us all. If that is the fate we’re doomed to face, then why not stage one more final resistance? You may do whatever you choose, but I’m going to take one last risk.”
Once he was done, he gave his three companions some time to consider their choices. Either they could follow Granville’s orders and resist their fates, or they could align themselves with Rimuru. Only Doran among them decided to separate from the group—choosing to resist as he normally did, on his own turf, to keep the Rozzo name alive.
“My territory is located far from the scene of conflict. As a survivor from the Rozzo family, I will observe and care for your true and correct history.”
Granville nodded at Doran. “Very well. This will likely be the final time, so I say this to you as my final request. It may be too late, but I wish there to be no ill will.”
Doran listened to Granville’s resigned words, tears in his eyes…and then he departed, alone.
Johann, too, realized this would likely be their final meeting. But he had no regrets. Considering the suffering Granville must have gone through as the Rozzo family patriarch, joining him on the path to almost certain death seemed a perfectly reasonable proposition. Cidre, who also stayed, was of the same opinion.
So the three of them worked out their final operation. Granville would use the Guild Grand Master Yuuki to stage one last challenge against Luminus. Cidre would abandon his northern defenses and allow the demons up there to march for the Western Nations. Johann would destroy Englesia’s defensive mechanisms and kill the core members of the Council. Tempest’s representative would likely be among them, and with her murder, they’d even be able to stage a confrontation between the demon lords Guy and Rimuru.
Once they pulled all of that off, human society would be in shambles. Doran, left behind, could opt to rebuild by himself, or maybe another nation would lead the way. Perhaps humankind would find some charismatic savior to guide them. Granville had some other motivations in mind as well, it seemed, but that didn’t matter to Johann.
“…But you’re truly sure about this? I am asking you both, in essence, to die for me.”
“What are you saying? As a member of the Rozzo family, my heart is always with you, my master!”
“As is mine. I cannot join your frail body on its final journey, but at least allow me to fulfill my duty to you.”
Johann and Cidre didn’t hesitate to answer Granville. It was quite the opposite of what Johann thought a moment ago, but he had a good reason for that. Everyone in the Rozzos took the absolute rule of Granville as a given. They depended on him; it was all but impossible to imagine prosperity without his patronage. So if Granville was now venturing forth to his final battlefield, even the previously indecisive Johann was ready for it.
I’m sure it’s just as difficult for King Doran to bear. He must feel helpless, like a child abandoned by his parents.
By comparison, Johann counted himself as a happy man. Until the final moment, he’d be able to take pride as a member of the Rozzo family.
So as ordered by Granville, Johann made contact with the Sons of the Veldt, a demon-affiliated group he and Gaban were familiar with, and won their promise to join in the effort. Their mission: to summon Vert herself and plunge the world into chaos. And for the Sons of the Veldt, like any paramilitary group dreaming of a world at war they could profit from, it was the greatest—and most self-centered—thing they could ever wish for.
And now, here in the Council, Johann’s job was done. The Sons of the Veldt’s dreams were coming true before his eyes. Their god—the Demon Peer Mizeri—had heeded the summoning. And with Mizeri, a threat more fearsome than any demon lord, laying waste to Englesia would be a simple task.
Heh-heh-heh… The rumors called this nation’s magical inquisitors the most powerful presence in the kingdom, and this demon’s frozen them stiff. It’s all over for Englesia. My homeland of Rostia will be caught up in it, no doubt, but I can apologize to my countrymen in the afterlife…
Satisfied with himself, Johann looked around the council hall. Then he witnessed something he couldn’t believe. One figure there was breezily smiling before Mizeri, the personification of all fear. The boy next to her was similarly unfazed—a little bored, even.
Wh-what are they doing?!
Then he remembered who they were: Testarossa, councillor from Tempest, and her assistant Moss.
“Yes, you’ve certainly come up with an interesting scheme. Sir Johann. Were you trying to destroy this country and plunge the world into chaos?”
“And what if I was?”
Johann didn’t like anything about Testarossa’s reaction. She acted totally unaffected in front of Mizeri, this calamity ranking above all demon lords, and it bothered him. But he quickly reconsidered matters. Testarossa is on the stronger side of monster-dom, no doubt, but her confidence would be her downfall.
There’s such a thing as being too strong for your own good, I suppose. It makes you fail to see the abilities of your adversaries. It dooms you.
And this strong woman would soon be wailing over the reality she faced. Simply imagining Testarossa pleading for her life gave Johann a sadistic rush.
“How comical can you get? All of this, despite the fact that my presence here makes your scheme an immediate failure.”
“Heh-heh-heh… Such nonsense,” Johann said with a self-assured smile. The more Testarossa shone with confidence, the greater her despair would be in a moment. Glorious expectations filled his mind.
“L-Lady Testarossa!” shouted the chairman, interrupting them. “Now’s not the time for such casual talk. You must flee at once and send a report to Lord Rimuru!”
“Chairman? What did you want me to tell him?”
Accurate information about the demons was scarce within the Western Nations. Compared with the experts in the Eastern Empire, this made the West seem eminently ill-prepared for them. The chairman was no exception, and not even having Mizeri on hand would tell him much about her or her race. However, the simple fact that she served the demon lord Guy Crimson, the greatest evil anyone here knew, made her a threat.
Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and here it was definitely working in their favor. If the chairman and other councillors knew more about demons, having Mizeri here would cause them to abandon all hope. The chairman didn’t realize how lucky he was to avoid that as he kept shouting at Testarossa.
“Tell him that one of the demon lord Guy’s chief agents has invaded our capital! He’ll surely not abandon us then!”
Even the chairman knew this was wishful thinking at best. No matter how much the demon lord Rimuru sought to live hand in hand with humans, it was impossible to imagine him going out of his way to make an enemy of Guy. Anyone who spent a moment to work out what he stood to gain or lose could see that.
But, the chairman thought, there was always a chance. He couldn’t fully give up yet. He had seen the demon lord Rimuru for himself, and he trusted in his words. A demon lord so emotional in nature—so human in many ways—might just throw all his potential stakes out the window and come riding to the rescue. He knew it was a stupid hope to have, but he couldn’t help but kindle the thought.
That was the only reason why the chairman could keep his sense of reason in front of this terror. And now Testarossa was smiling at him.
“You realize that I am here, yes?”
The chairman wasn’t sure what she meant. He would find out quickly.
But he wasn’t the only one confused by this. Johann was as well, and Testarossa’s cavalier attitude was sorely testing his patience.
“You think I will let you? Sir Girard, it is time to give everyone here a dose of reality.”
Girard, despite Johann’s order, was among the many here unsure what to make of this.
Why…? Why is Lady Mizeri not making a move?
Ayn, Girard’s right-hand girl, had lost consciousness upon summoning Mizeri. The effort no doubt took years off her life span, but she deserved enormous praise for being alive at all. However, without a supernatural power along the lines of Mizeri’s, she might never wake up again.
Girard, even as he took pride in Ayn’s masterwork, was already seeking an opportunity to retreat. With all of her powers beyond imagination, it’d be easy for her to kill everyone present. In fact, she could burn the entire capital of Englesia down with her purgatorial flames. Before that happened, he planned to scoop Ayn up and get the hell out of here. The people of this city would serve as the Sons of the Veldt’s offering to Mizeri, and then Girard and his friends would be added to the ranks of those his deity recognized as peers.
That was the plan, at least. But things were going completely off the rails.
From the moment she appeared here, Mizeri hadn’t done a single thing except stare at Testarossa. Now, at long last, she spoke.
“Unbelievable, Blanc. Why have you received a physical body?”
“A pity you saw fit to call me that. I’ve been granted the wondrous name of Testarossa now. You don’t like being called Vert, either, do you, Mizeri?”
“A… A name? You? It can’t be…”
“Oh, but it is. And I hate to spoil your grand welcome, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t lose to you right now. If you still want to fight, though, I’d certainly be interested. In fact, I’d be happy to put you to sleep for a thousand years or so.”
She snickered, an elegant laugh meant entirely to taunt Mizeri. She had a body now and a name as well—and even better, she was a Demon Peer just like Mizeri. They were the same.
At first glance, they’d seem to be a pretty even matchup. However, under normal circumstances, Testarossa would have the disadvantage, given how new she was in her body. However, that assumed Testarossa wasn’t as belligerent as she was. Here you had Mizeri, who mostly performed office-style duties under Guy, against Testarossa, a fellow Primal Demon who had spent far more time fighting for influence with other demons. You didn’t need to crunch the numbers to see the difference in battle experience—and what’s more, Testarossa’s associate Moss was with her.
I may have more magical energy than she does, but I cannot afford to take on two Demon Peers at once—especially if one is Blanc or Noir, the more dangerous ones of them all. Sir Guy merely ordered me to stir up a small commotion in the capital, not risk my life attempting to defeat a fellow Primal Demon. If anything, it is more my duty to return alive and inform Sir Guy of this.
Mizeri coldly gauged matters. She instantly recognized the difference in strength between them, and just as instantly, she made the best choice possible for her.
“You don’t need to provoke me…Testarossa. My goals today do not involve you. I have destroyed the capital’s barrier, and that, I feel, is enough to fulfill my mission.”
“Oh, are you running away?”
“I am. My life belongs to Sir Guy. It is not something I have the right to throw away.”
“Ah. I see. I will look forward to the next opportunity, then.”
“As will I, to be sure. I hope you get accustomed to your new body quickly, because when you lose, you shouldn’t expect your excuses to work on me.”
Testarossa’s smile broadened. Mizeri greeted it with a completely emotionless stare. The two watched each other for a while… Then, out of nowhere, Mizeri vanished.
Girard was the first to react. With Mizeri gone, everyone who remained didn’t have the scantest idea what just happened.
To Girard, it looked for all the world like this god—this superhuman presence that Girard’s gang viewed as omnipotent—had just been talked into submission by a councillor with good looks and nothing else.
To Mizeri, the Sons of the Veldt were nothing but disposable tools, something she set up on a whim to watch over and collect intelligence from human society. She could replace them at any time, so the fate of Girard and the rest were of no concern. They had been completely forsaken, but that reality wasn’t one Girard was willing to accept.
“N-no! Dammit! Thanks to you, our god has gone back!”
Enraged, Girard began swinging at Testarossa. He was above A in rank, and that wasn’t just for show—his speed with a sword made it impossible for most people to track his moves. But to Testarossa, he may as well have been frozen in place. Besides, she didn’t even need to a lift a finger. Moss was still there, and Moss had no reason to let this insolent violence go unanswered.
With a piercing ting, Girard’s sword was cut in half—and in another instant, Moss had Girard restrained.
“Don’t kill him. And don’t kill the lofty Sir Johann over there, either.”
“But, Lady Testarossa, these two insulted you—”
The next moment, Moss was deafened.
“Do I have to say it again, Moss?”
“N-not at all, my lord! It was selfish of me to second-guess you!”
He fell to a knee, immediately regretting his gaffe. Testarossa’s good mood as of late had made him forget, but she could be an extremely egotistical woman. The same was true of Ultima and Carrera. “Birds of a feather flock together” described them well.
“If you understand that, I will forgive you once more. What a generous person I am, aren’t I, Moss? Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely!”
Moss was as obedient as he was smart. Despite the occasional mistake, he had been serving Testarossa through all her selfish whims for over ten thousand years, a feat that no one else could ever duplicate.
Thus, Johann, Girard, and Ayn were all in custody, bound down along with the soldiers who served them.
“It—it wasn’t meant to be this way…”
Girard, thoroughly defeated by Moss, had a cooler head now. Gradually, the conversation between Mizeri and Testarossa ensconced itself in his mind, helping him comprehend it.
Our god recognized her as an equal…? Blanc… By Blanc, did she mean the Original White?!
He was aware of the Primal Demons, hence why he noticed Testarossa’s true identity. The moment he did, his ego all but imploded. Now he understood just who their enemy was…and that his soul would never enjoy another day of peace in his life. As strong as he thought himself to be, it was valueless against the Primal Demons.
“Ah-ha…ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!!”
Insane laughter echoed out of Girard. In a strange way, this was actually a happy ending for him—they were all handed over to the magical inquisitors and weren’t even cognizant enough to realize it.
Johann, meanwhile, looked like he had aged a couple decades, sitting on the floor and staring into space as he mumbled.
“I—I failed…? Sir Granville’s hope, his final request… I couldn’t do it…”
“No, you couldn’t do much of anything,” Testarossa scoffed, her words bearing lethal poison as she whispered them into his ear. Her sweet breath tickled his eardrums, numbing his very mind.
“Dammit… Dammit! If—if only you weren’t here, everything would have worked out perfectly!”
“Oh, would it have? Well, sorry about that. I suppose I got in the way, but you’ll just have to chalk that up to fate, won’t you? Now, I think some people are waiting behind me, so I’ll just step out of the way…”
Without another word, Testarossa ran a snowy-white finger across Johann’s jawline, then left the scene for the magical inquisitors to take over.
“N-no. Stay away! Don’t come near me!”
Silently, the inquisitors seized him.
“Halt! No! No, let me go! Wh-who do you think I am? Do—do you bastards have any idea what you’re doing?! My homeland won’t take this sitting down! You’re setting off an international incident!”
Johann screamed his head off. Nobody reacted; nobody lifted a hand to help. Of course they didn’t. With these many witnesses on hand, Johann was all but assured to face justice.
“No crying, now. No carrying on. You must atone for your crimes. You’ll have friends joining you, won’t you? I’m sure it’ll be loads of fun.”
“Damn all of you! You accursed demon! I hope you burn in hell!”
“Hee-hee… Hee-hee-hee. Yes. I like that. Ah, why is the howling of the truly lost such sweet music to my ears? But you’re cursing the wrong person. Any crimes committed in the Council, you realize, are judged in a court of law. And if those crimes include treason, plotting against the state, or other insurrectionist behavior, that falls under the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Englesia. Too bad, isn’t it? I’m afraid I have no legal right to personally punish you. I could have done it anyway and called it self-defense, I suppose, but you’re a little too weak for me to claim that.”
Testarossa let out a blissful laugh as she faced the frantic Johann.
Everything she said was in compliance with international law. With the law as her shield, she had cornered Johann with an incontrovertible argument.
Thus, Johann was now in custody. And much like old Count Gaban, he would likely be dealt with in secret so that he’d never see the light of day again.
When you looked purely at the externals of all this, Testarossa had just banished a demon bent on destroying the kingdom. She had saved the councillors, the Council itself, and all of Englesia, too.
To say the least, it solidified her position within the Council. Nobody could compare with her in brains and brawn. The chairman wanted her in far more important posts now. Her reputation would be known far and wide shortly.