For the first time since being turned into a literal tool by the spell, Velrian found herself interested in someone else.
At her request, a few days after the banquet, Plosia arrived at the witches’ territory with a systematically compiled stack of intelligence.
“Hero Eze, the second summoned chosen hero. Unlike the others, he was a commoner in his previous life, with weak combat strength but exceptional in tactics and intelligence. Since being summoned, he’s fought in 57 battles, large and small, without a single loss…”
Velrian sat behind a desk, poring over the thick pile of documents, her expression growing serious.
The more she read, the more she understood, and the more absurd it seemed.
“This guy, was he really a commoner before becoming a hero? Are otherworld commoners monsters or something?”
His tactical brilliance could be chalked up to natural talent, but navigating political maneuvering and infighting with such ease, even flipping the hero’s “tool” status to suppress nobles and the church?
No way a clueless amateur could pull that off.
Was it part of his hero’s blessing?
Or… was he hiding something?
“Eze, Eze…”
Muttering the name of this stranger she’d never met, Velrian sank into thought, her expression softening, a new emotion flickering in her eyes.
Plosia, sidelined, caught it all and leaned in with a sly grin:
“What’s this? Got a thing for his type?”
Snapped out of her thoughts, Velrian turned, visibly annoyed.
“…What’re you talking about?”
“He’s the first to make our little witch so distracted, isn’t he?”
“Distracted my ass, I’m just—”
Her words cut off abruptly as the spell activated, forcibly halting her speech.
Her expression froze comically for several seconds before she recovered.
“Just?”
“…Nothing.”
Velrian shook her head in frustration.
She was indeed curious about this Eze.
Under the spell’s torment, pushed to physical and mental exhaustion, she’d long wanted to end it all.
But the spell forbade self-destruction, even blocking risky actions that could lead to death.
In battle, at life-or-death moments, it forced her to flee—literal “can’t even die” territory.
In the war, humans struggled against powerful demon leaders, usually aiming to repel rather than kill.
But this Eze was different.
Facing a beastman army several times his size and their formidable chieftain, his first thought was to wipe them out.
That mindset shocked Velrian more than his strength.
One day, as a fellow thirteen leader, she’d face him on the battlefield, and he’d likely come for her life, just like this time.
Maybe then, she could finally be free.
Plosia, unaware of these thoughts, saw Velrian sink into contemplation with a slight smile and grew a bit miffed:
“Tch, why not strike first?”
“…What?”
“This guy’s in the Holy Capital, right? Wait and see, I’ll sneak in tomorrow, nab this boy who’s got my little witch all flustered, and train him until he’s drooling and useless…”
“Don’t you dare!!!”
Velrian snapped out of her reverie, slamming the desk to shut down Plosia’s dangerous idea.
The Succubus Queen was usually laid-back, but when it came to seduction or “training,” even her joking words were likely half-serious.
If she acted, success meant Eze turned into a husk; failure meant Velrian lost an intel source. Either way, no good for her.
“You think the Holy Capital’s your personal brothel!? You can just waltz in and out!? And with Eze’s brains, you really think your tricks would work on him?”
Plosia tilted her head with a wicked grin:
“Oh my, never met him, yet you talk like you know him so well?”
“I… forget it—”
Arguing with a succubus was pointless—they enjoyed both dishing and taking insults.
Realizing this, Velrian deflated, slumping back into her seat, propping her face, and flipping through the documents.
“Interpersonal relations and teammate info… hm?”
Unlike the dazzling perfection of his battle records, this section took a sharp downturn, making Velrian frown:
“Lowest team status, no authority, forced to handle unnecessary tasks… seriously?”
Plosia shrugged:
“Seriously. Just at the banquet a couple days ago, this Eze was publicly humiliated by his team leader in front of a crowd of nobles and big shots.”
Velrian was speechless.
A prodigy like that, even if not the team’s core, should at least be treasured.
Were these people brain-dead?
And Eze, too.
With his skills, he’d be in demand anywhere.
Why not leave sooner and hang onto a team that kept screwing him over?
Thinking this, Velrian gave a wry smile—she, the universally disliked Great Witch, wasn’t much different in others’ eyes.
She was forced by the spell; what was Eze’s reason?
Whatever it was, he seemed a lot like her.
Feeling an unwarranted kinship with this unmet hero, Velrian’s heart warmed slightly toward him.
***
Eze leaned against the room’s wall, silently listening to Velrian’s story.
“So, for the past five years, you’ve been used as a tool to control the witches?”
“Yes.”
“And the spell controlling you was broken by my sword in yesterday’s battle?”
“Exactly.”
Velrian stood from the bed, lightly snapping her fingers.
A crisp sound, like shattering glass, echoed in the room.
The already-damaged spell embedded in her body broke completely, dissolving into dark red light particles that danced and faded.
The witch closed her eyes, took a deep breath, stretched her arms, and smiled with relief:
“Mmm, I’ve never felt this free since I gained consciousness… So, you get my situation now, right?”
“I do.”
Eze nodded.
Velrian had been a tool of the previous Demon King—or rather, the demon tribe—from the start.
Now, with the spell fully broken, she was an uncontrolled tool.
Returning would almost certainly mean being silenced to keep the secret.
They might even use her head to curry favor with the witches who’d long despised her.
So, she absolutely couldn’t go back.
Calling herself a stray dog wasn’t wrong.
Eze lowered his gaze, mentally reviewing her story.
It made sense, with no obvious holes.
But something felt off, like she was still hiding something.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he realized Velrian had closed the distance again, so near their faces would collide with a slight move.
“Uh…”
The situation flustered Eze, while Velrian, hands behind her back, grinned:
“I’ve said my piece. Your turn—what’s your plan? Whatever you do, you’ve gotta take me along~”