Belon adopted a grave demeanor, his face etched with unyielding solemnity.
The saintess candidates fell silent, the chapel’s air thickening with unspoken tension.
“Our human hero—the Silver Sword Princess Selina—once stormed the Demon King’s Castle alone,” Belon began, “confronting the vile lord of the demons, Ville. She slew the Demon King, ending the war between humanity and the demonkin, and ushered in an era of peace for our world.”
“Archbishop,” Janice ventured, brow furrowed in mild confusion, “we’ve all grown up on those tales. After her sacrifice, Lady Selina’s soul returned to the Hall of Heroes. Surely that’s not what you’re here to announce?”
Selina, the Silver Sword Princess, was a household name—a beacon against the demonkin.
Her saga had been spun into countless stories, etched into the fabric of human lore.
Not a single saintess candidate in the room was ignorant of her legend.
“Precisely,” Belon continued. “After her fall, Selina’s hero soul rejoined our world. The Demon King Ville, upon his death, plummeted to the underworld, condemned to eternal torment for his sins—”
He paused, letting the words hang.
“That was how it should have remained. But mere days ago, the Holy Knight Order we dispatched to the Demon King’s Castle ruins… discovered the slain Demon King Ville, risen once more.”
“What?” Isher blinked, certain she’d misheard.
Janice’s eyes widened in stunned silence.
Even Mia’s lids snapped open, her face twisting in disbelief.
Ruby’s brow creased deeply.
A heavy pall settled over nearly every face in the room.
One glaring exception: Nana burst into laughter.
“Hahaha! Nice one, Archbishop—you’re trying to spook us with Demon King talk?”
“Nana—shut your mouth.”
Belon shot the mood-breaker—a perennial second-to-last—a withering glare.
“Do I look like I’m joking?!”
“Eh? For real?” Nana batted her eyes. “Demon King Ville’s actually back?”
“Dead serious,” Belon affirmed. “Sophie saw him with her own eyes—she was right there in the Holy Knights’ ranks.”
All eyes swiveled back to Sophie.
“Yes,” she confirmed, her tone steady and unyielding. “I saw Demon King Ville clear as day—no deviation from the legends. I’m certain of it. And the demonkin prowling the ruins? They hailed him as their king. It was him—the real deal.”
“Sophie’s debriefed the Pope in full,” Belon added. “Cross-checked against the other Holy Knights’ reports—everyone witnessed Ville.”
The words landed like a thunderclap, rippling shock through the group.
The Demon King—the scourge who’d once waged war on humanity—resurrected?
This was no trifling matter.
“Archbishop,” Isher pressed, grappling for sense, “how could a dead Demon King come back? Did Lady Selina… fail to finish him off back then?”
“No,” Belon replied firmly. “She killed him outright. The demonkin’s Demon King factions crumbled in the aftermath—why remains a riddle. Perhaps those abyss-embracing fiends wielded some forbidden rite to revive their lord. Demonkin do hoard taboos, after all.”
No such resurrection rites exist among the demonkin.
You’re overthinking it, Via scoffed inwardly. If we had that trick, there’d only ever be one Demon King—dead? Just revive and rinse, repeat.
As the room’s sole keeper of truth, Via bit her tongue.
She could hardly blurt out the reality: The Demon King reincarnated as the Perfect Saintess’s daughter?
That’d make for a manga plot twist, not our lives.
“Archbishop,” Mia cut in, shedding her usual languor, “does the Pope plan to go public with this?”
“Only a scant few know—the Holy Land’s inner circle,” Belon explained. “Even the Empire’s in the dark. Broadcast this, and panic would erupt across the human realms—nations teetering on chaos.”
“This is bad…” Janice shook her head, dismay plain.
The saintess candidates hadn’t witnessed the war firsthand, but elders’ grim recitals painted the horror vivid.
Demonkin had weaponized abyssal aura, puppeteering beasts to ravage human lands.
Countless perished; others twisted into demonized thralls, turning on kin to aid the foe.
Without Selina’s killing blow to end it early? The carnage would’ve ballooned beyond reckoning.
“Um…”
Nana tapped her temples lightly, brow knit in concentration.
“Whatcha thinking, Nana?” Isher prodded, curiosity piqued.
“Just… is that really the Demon King Ville?” Nana replied.
Via’s expression flickered at the words—subtle, but there.
“What do you mean?” Isher leaned in.
“Think about it—if demonkin hoard secret arts, couldn’t they just reanimate his corpse? Slap some necromancy on the husk, pass it off as the man himself?”
“You mean…”
“Then bam—they trot out the ‘Demon King’ to rattle our cages!” Nana waggled a finger, grinning as she spun her theory. “If he were truly back, those old factions would’ve rallied by now—full-scale war on humanity, right?”
Via exhaled, tension easing.
Whew—thought she’d sniffed out the truth there.
All wrong, but… the conclusion lands close enough.
Under the circumstances, rebuilding her court was off the table—she’d play the long game, grow in shadows for now.
“It’s no corpse,” Sophie countered. “No necromantic traces on Ville—I’d have felt it.”
“Aw, bummer. Guess my theory’s bunk.” Nana deflated a touch, shrugging it off.
“Regardless,” Belon boomed, voice rising to command the room, “Ville’s revival is fact—borne out by every sign. He’s marshaling his forces, poised to sweep back and raze our human world.”
He hammered the point home.
“We’ve lost the Silver Sword Princess. We’ve lost Saintess Sylvia. Both were our bulwarks against the demonkin. Should the Demon King strike… humanity teeters on apocalypse once more! I tell you this so you understand: time is short for us all. For our race’s survival—you must rise swiftly. Become true saintesses!”