As always, the familiar arrows of misfortune seemed to fly toward Poltuga.
Even though she had grown used to them, it didn’t mean they didn’t hurt.
The physical pain was negligible.
What truly hurt her was the emotional toll—the stark reminder that she could never escape this cursed fate.
This ever-present sensation, as sharp as an arrow piercing her, struck deeply in her heart.
And yet, even though she had all but given up, she continued to hope.
She wished, just once, for someone—anyone—to stop one of these arrows.
To block this endless stream of misfortune for her.
Just like he once had.
The person who, despite all her flaws, had given her a reason to keep living.
The one who had, long ago, stopped an arrow for her when they first met.
And now.
What unfolded before her eyes brought forth a deep sense of confusion.
The person who stopped this particular arrow of misfortune wasn’t him.
It was a human.
And not just any human.
It was someone she could barely tolerate: the very same person who had killed many of her subordinates.
Mari.
The one who, despite now being on their side, she couldn’t fully trust.
“A… human? Why… why would you stop that for me?”
Poltuga’s wariness flared immediately.
Could it be an act to gain her favor? Or did Mari have some ulterior motive that Poltuga wasn’t aware of?
Her thoughts grew increasingly tangled when.
“I had no particular reason,” Mari said nonchalantly, her voice calm and indifferent. “I just saw something flying toward you and blocked it. That’s all.”
“I…”
Mari’s straightforward tone left Poltuga speechless for a moment.
However, upon hearing Mari’s words, a flicker of astonishment crossed Poltuga’s face.
The reason was simple:
Those words… they were almost identical to what he had once said to her, long ago.
“Tch… unnecessary meddling…”
Hiding her surprise, Poltuga hardened her expression.
Meanwhile, Mari quietly sat down beside her without a word, and Poltuga made no move to stop her.
‘Even sitting silently next to me… it’s just the same.’
The situation brought back memories of a time that Poltuga cherished deeply.
Her feelings toward this woman were still far from positive.
But the recent events—Mari stopping the cork and her contributions during the battle—had managed to soften Poltuga’s animosity, even if only slightly.
“Sigh…”
A sigh escaped Poltuga’s lips, frustration creeping in as she berated herself for being so easily swayed.
When she first met Mari, she had been resolved to kill her.
She couldn’t deny that her determination had now faltered, over something so trivial as these moments.
Caught between conflicting emotions, Poltuga wordlessly took another drink from her cup.
And then.
“Ah.”
Once again, something flew toward her.
A plate loaded with food came hurtling her way, spilling its contents mid-air.
Poltuga frowned at the situation, bracing herself for the inevitable mess.
But.
—Snatch!
Mari swiftly caught the falling plate with precision, preventing another disaster.
As Poltuga stared at Mari, her frown deepened slightly.
“You… You really have terrible luck. For something like this to happen twice in a row…”
“…Yeah, well. It’s nothing new, so don’t bother worrying about it.”
“A curse…? Or maybe there’s another reason for it?”
“Not really. Like I said, I’m just ridiculously unlucky, that’s all.”
“…You must’ve had a rough time because of it.”
Mari’s words were simple, but they carried an air of sincerity.
For a moment, Poltuga glanced at her, unsure how to respond.
—Whoosh!
—Clang!
Once again, Mari intercepted a flying dish with practiced ease.
Watching this, Poltuga took another sip from her cup, feeling the drink somehow less bitter than usual. She murmured softly, almost to herself:
“Unlucky as always.”
But this time, her words carried a slightly lighter tone than usual.
In the corner, the two of them sat quietly, sipping their drinks.
Mari-sensei and Demon General Poltuga.
The occasional murmur of their conversation could be heard, far removed from the hostile, growling threats Poltuga had spat when they first met.
The atmosphere between them had softened considerably.
Watching this scene, a faint smile crept onto my lips.
Poltuga, a figure perpetually plagued by misfortune, had always faced countless hardships.
In the original story, she had only appeared briefly as a stage boss and had died shortly afterward.
Despite her short-lived role, her unique gloomy aura, her personality marked by her constant muttering of “unlucky,” and the unexpectedly high difficulty of her fight had left a lasting impression on me.
So, when I first encountered Poltuga here, I recruited her as one of my subordinates immediately.
Back then, she wasn’t a demon general, just a low-ranking officer with little influence.
Sure, her abysmally low luck stat had caused no small number of minor incidents, but I still valued her as one of my key aides.
When luck wasn’t a factor, she was incredibly capable, and I couldn’t help but admire her perseverance and tireless efforts despite her constant misfortune.
It reminded me too much of my previous life.
‘In that sense, I always thought those two might get along well…’
After all, I, too, had been saved by Mari-sensei—both in this world and in the life I lived beyond the monitor.
She had been my salvation, just as Poltuga reminded me of myself in many ways.
It wasn’t entirely surprising to imagine them hitting it off eventually, though I hadn’t expected their relationship to soften so quickly, given Poltuga’s earlier resolve to kill Mari.
‘Well… they’ll part ways eventually, but still… maybe…’
Knowing the truth about Mari and where this would all inevitably lead, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted as I watched them.
Even so, with a hint of hope, I quietly sipped my drink and observed the two of them from a distance.
On the marble floors of the Imperial Palace, generals knelt, their faces clouded with dark shadows of shame and defeat.
At the head of the group was the man responsible for the catastrophic loss of thousands of soldiers—General Iskal.
Head bowed and pressed against the ground, Iskal’s mind was in utter turmoil, thoughts swirling with regret and self-recrimination.
“I underestimated them… far too much…”
The original purpose of this expedition had been simple: eliminate the Great Witch Mari, as per the Emperor’s orders.
The mission wasn’t supposed to be overly complicated, nor did it require unnecessary risks.
But then.
The one they had chosen to involve.
“Kesar… he’s a monster far beyond what I had imagined…”
Demon Lord Kesar had long been considered one of the Empire’s most dangerous enemies, but the reality far exceeded even their worst expectations.
He wasn’t just strong—he was overwhelmingly powerful, cunning, and utterly ruthless.
The price for provoking someone like him had been steep.
Iskal’s plan had been straightforward: feign a skirmish with Kesar’s forces, stab Mari in the back at the opportune moment, and then retreat cleanly.
It should have been simple. But the outcome had been devastating.
It was as if he had tried to feed an alligator, only to have his entire arm bitten off.
From the very first engagement, Kesar struck with a level of precision and ferocity that was beyond comprehension, wiping out 40% of Iskal’s forces.
It was as though Kesar had anticipated every move, delivering deceptive yet fatal strikes that left the Imperial Army in shambles.
Though Iskal had barely managed to accomplish the “plan,” it had come at a horrifying cost—thousands of soldiers buried in the process.
The weakened defensive lines had been breached, leading to the complete loss of the Dunhail Peninsula, a vital territory under Imperial control.
To make matters worse, in addition to the forces granted by the Emperor, Iskal had sacrificed the elite troops he had painstakingly cultivated over the years.
All of them, gone in the blink of an eye.
The primary objective, the “purge of the Great Witch Mari,” had been achieved, but the cost was catastrophic.
The losses were so severe that the operation could hardly be called a success.
Far from receiving rewards, Iskal and his men had every reason to fear punishment.
As Iskal remained prostrate on the floor, anxiety coursing through him, a voice suddenly rang out:
“His Majesty approaches.”
“…Gulp.”
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, heavy and foreboding, like those of the Grim Reaper.
Iskal swallowed dryly, his body trembling in anticipation of judgment.
After what felt like an eternity, a cold, commanding voice broke the silence.
“Raise your head.”
“…”
The voice of that man, His Majesty, felt more terrifying than anything else.
Iskal slowly lifted his head to see Emperor Hiren III seated upon the throne.
The Emperor’s gaze was icy and calm, but it was precisely that composure that made his presence even more chilling.
Looking down at Iskal, the Emperor spoke with a voice that sent shivers down the spine.
“I’ve heard the report, General Iskal.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
“The results are truly remarkable. Thousands of soldiers lost, an entire territory surrendered… all for a single mission.”
“…I… I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty! This unworthy servant deserves death!”
“I beg Your Majesty to execute us!”
Following Iskal’s lead, the other generals behind him bowed their heads in unison, loudly asking for punishment.
Of course, none of them actually wanted to die.
It was a ceremonial plea, a standard phrase to beg for mercy.
The final decision, however, rested with the Emperor—whether they would lose their lives, their titles, or their lands.
The Emperor’s cold gaze lingered on them as he spoke again.
“As the Supreme Commander entrusted with my forces, you must bear responsibility. And, in the end, the Great Witch Mari was killed in the process.”
“…Hmm…”
“W-we are truly sorry, Your Majesty…”
Despite the internal complexities of the situation, Mari had been officially reported as “deceased.”
Hearing the Emperor mention her death, Iskal and the others grew even more anxious, carefully studying his expression.
But then.
“However… despite that, your accomplishments up until now are not insignificant. Furthermore, I understand that you and your subordinates suffered greatly in this mission. As such, I will forgive this failure—just this once.”
“…Ah!”
“Your Majesty, we are unworthy of such grace!”
Contrary to their expectations of harsh punishment, the matter ended surprisingly easily.
While bowing in gratitude, Iskal and his men couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of confusion.
‘Wait… that’s it? Just like that?’
‘We lost an entire territory and thousands of troops… Is Mari’s death really that important to him?’
As the generals struggled to reconcile their relief with their confusion, the Emperor observed them quietly.
Inside, Hiren III felt a wave of indescribable relief as he thought to himself:
“The losses are painful, but getting rid of that woman? At this price, it was a bargain.”
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