That night.
A gentle breeze drifted by, as if carrying her longing into the distance.
Moonlight streamed through the familiar little window and fell into the room.
The normally cold moonlight seemed to carry warmth, and everything felt so peaceful and serene.
Lanafit fell into a deep sleep, a serene smile on her lips, as if in her dreams she had returned to the past—no more loneliness, no more suffering, everything just as it had once been: happy from the very beginning.
“Witch of Curses and Calamities, the will of the Demon God shall now be delivered to you.”
Just as everything seemed so blissful, an abrupt voice echoed in her mind.
The voice was deep and magnetic, with no clear indication of whether it was male or female, and it carried no emotion at all.
“Bring calamity to the world. Sow curses among the living. You shall plant the seeds of fear and despair so that these insects, who grow increasingly irreverent toward the gods, will recall their devotion in the face of hopelessness. Create the Demon King.”
The mechanical-like voice faded, and Lanafit suddenly awoke from her dream.
She clutched her forehead with one hand, her chest rising and falling rapidly—a reflection of her unease.
The fading voice instinctively made her feel fear and the urge to submit.
“This… is the will of the Demon God?”
Recalling the words that had just echoed in her mind, Lanafit murmured softly.
“I’ll ask Anthera and Roseithe about it tomorrow.”
…
…
Noon.
“Hmm… creating a Demon King. I had speculated a bit about Lanafit’s responsibilities before, but this first task is honestly beyond anything I imagined.”
In Roseithe’s flower garden, Anthera took a light sip of her red tea and then showed a contemplative expression.
They had chosen to meet here mainly because Lanafit’s house was a bit too shabby for hosting guests, and Anthera didn’t want to let Roseithe into her own home.
So, they had no choice but to come to Roseithe’s place.
“Anthera-sis, I remember hearing from some of the other sisters that no Demon King has appeared in the lower world for the past 400 years, right?”
Roseithe glanced worriedly at the visibly tense Lanafit and then turned to ask Anthera, who nodded.
“Indeed. The previous Demon King was slain by the former Hero 400 years ago. That Hero later went on to found the Haide Empire. As I recall, the divine decree granting him the title of Hero came from Sister Seharei.”
Seharei Bamaerte —
The Witch of War and Peace.
She was the 30th of the 35 Witches throughout history.
The Hero had been chosen during the century of her service.
Incidentally, she’s the witch who demolished Roseithe’s house yesterday.
“Based on the divine message Lanafit received, it seems the reason is that peace has lasted too long, and people have begun to lose their reverence for us. The Demon King is needed to restore that balance.”
Roseithe said this while casting a concerned and slightly puzzled look at Lanafit.
“But I didn’t expect the Demon King could actually be created. Lanafit-sis’s divine role might be more problematic than I thought.”
“Is the Demon King really that powerful?”
Lanafit couldn’t help but ask.
After all, based on stories from her previous world, the Demon King was strong—but if she was the one creating him, wouldn’t he be weaker than the witches?
Roseithe, for once, responded quite seriously:
“Of course they’re powerful. The Demon King is, in essence, a manifestation of the world’s laws. In the past, they were always chosen directly by the Demon God. If left to grow for a few centuries, a Demon King could become an existence rivaling us witches. Over a thousand years ago, one even invaded this realm.”
“That powerful?!”
Lanafit was shocked internally.
But she was also curious what happened after the Demon King invaded, so she asked, “Then what happened afterward?”
Roseithe, having only been a witch for a hundred years, didn’t know the details and turned her gaze to Anthera.
As someone who had lived through it, Anthera remained calm and emotionless on the topic.
“That Demon King defeated the Hero at the time and, after centuries of growth, reached power close to ours. But ultimately, it was still only one being. It was weakened and banished by the combined effort of the witches back then, and later slain by a newly chosen Hero. It didn’t cause too much damage in the end.”
“Ah… I see.”
Lanafit scratched her head awkwardly.
Indeed, the Demon King would become incredibly powerful once fully grown—on par with the witches.
But in the end, it was still a one-on-one comparison.
If faced with a gang of witches beating him up together, the outcome was obvious.
“In recent years, the relative peace among nations has indeed weakened people’s faith in us. The Demon God likely sensed this and hopes to restore divine authority through the birth of the Demon King and the selection of a new Hero.”
Listening to Anthera’s words, Lanafit fell silent for a long time before reluctantly speaking.
“But… isn’t this method a bit too underhanded? Creating a Demon King just because people believe less—won’t that cost countless lives?”
It wasn’t out of some overflowing saintly compassion, but even though Lanafit had never truly met the people of this world, she didn’t want to be the root cause of a future tragedy.
“I understand your concern. But we are merely executors—guardians of the world’s order. We must let go of unnecessary compassion.”
Anthera looked at Lanafit gently, but her tone was firm and left no room for doubt.
Perhaps realizing the harshness of assigning such a weighty task to a newcomer, she coughed lightly and then spoke again.
“Lanafit, let’s try an example. If there were only sheep on a vast grassland, with no other creatures, what do you think would happen?”
Lanafit thought for a moment.
Of course, she knew the answer, and some clarity settled in her heart.
“The number of sheep would keep increasing, and the grassland would keep decreasing. Eventually, the sheep would fight each other for the limited grass. But the grassland would ultimately disappear. So both the grassland and the sheep would face extinction.”
“Exactly. And to control the damage caused by the expanding flock, wolves exist.
While they hunt the sheep, they also give the grassland time to recover.
And that’s not even mentioning the roles of humans, cows, horses, and other species—they all form a complex system of checks and balances.
That’s how the world works: a sustainable, closed-loop cycle.”
“The demon race and the human (and demi-human) races are natural enemies. But without the protection of a Demon King, the demons—once the wolves—have gradually been reduced to grass for the sheep. So to restore balance between the races, the periodic birth of a Demon King is essential.”
Anthera intended to elaborate further, but upon seeing Lanafit’s expression, she chose to stop.
“Looks like you’ve figured it out.”
“Yes.”
Lanafit nodded.
“Eh? Figured out what? I didn’t understand any of that.”
This came from Roseithe, who clearly hadn’t followed along—but Lanafit and Anthera wisely chose to ignore her.
“Since the will of the Demon God has already been conveyed, let’s not waste time. You know what you need to do.”
“Mm. Thank you, Miss Anthera.”
Lanafit expressed her gratitude, to which Anthera just smiled and waved it off.
At that moment, Lanafit stood from her seat and picked up the staff standing beside her.
The moment her hand grasped it, the gem at the top of the staff flared with a deep purple light.
Staring into the ominous glow of the gem, Lanafit hesitated briefly—but in the end, she began to chant solemnly.
“Wandering souls of the underworld, eyes clouded by bloodlust and slaughter—
I grant you a miraculous rebirth.
I bestow upon you the power to fulfill your desires.
Sow your wrath upon this unjust world.
Go forth.
Let all witness your existence.
Subjugate all under your fury.
Enslave all living beings in your prison.
You shall become the one and only sovereign—The king who commands the demon race and tramples all beneath you.”
As her words fell, far below, in a remote forest nearly untouched by any nation, a pillar of purple light shot into the sky.
The earth trembled violently, as if crushed underfoot.
Birds scattered in alarm, and wild beasts fled in all directions.
And when all the dust settled, a figure appeared at the center of it all.
“Live well… my child.”
…
…
Lanafit admitted it.
She had been partial.
She chose to birth the Demon King at the edge of the world, in a region untouched by human civilization.
This ensured that the powerful new Demon King couldn’t immediately threaten humankind.
But at the same time, it granted him a land worth conquering.
She could only hope that, before the Demon King finished conquering that region and began causing widespread destruction, the Hero would be born.
Was this hypocrisy?
Maybe.
But Lanafit couldn’t make a cleaner choice.
Unlike the other witches, she hadn’t lost her memories.
Deep in her heart, she still felt a connection to humankind.
Even if this world wasn’t the one she once knew…Even if those people were strangers.
And yet, a deeper fear gnawed at her heart, refusing to fade.
The will of the Demon God—That voice, that irresistible force she could never defy.
It filled Lanafit with a profound sense of crisis.
If one day, that voice were to command her to take up a blade and slaughter everything within sight — or even to end her own life — what choice would she have then?
For the first time, she felt the terror of a fate completely controlled by another.