Night fell once again, and the sounds of repair work inside the Demon King’s Castle were especially grating. The chirping of insects rose and fell intermittently as Emilia and Sigfried painstakingly searched and called out, managing to bring back quite a few people—though only quite a few, no more.
A rough estimate put the missing at about a quarter, but that was something they had to accept.
Inside the central tent of the Demon King’s Castle, a cheap kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows on the canvas. The silver-haired girl leaned sideways on a chair, her hair flowing like moonlight over piles of parchment scrolls on a makeshift table.
Her fingers, stained with ink, held a quill that absentmindedly traced spirals along the edges of the personnel list. Suddenly, she paused and tapped the end of the quill against a line of numbers.
The firelight illuminated the furrow between her brows—her mood was far from pleasant. Yet even so, she cast a large, swaying silhouette against the tent’s canvas.
In her heart, she dismissed the Demon King Castle’s reconstruction plan as utterly unrealistic, no better than a dream. With graceful hands, she tore up the paper, gently rolled it into a ball, and casually tossed it to the ground.
The crumpled paper rolled to Sigfried’s feet, where seven or eight similar failed drafts were already piled. She suddenly pulled at the ribbons binding her hair, letting her silver locks cascade down like a waterfall.
Perhaps she realized that stewing in frustration alone wouldn’t help. She looked at her lover, wondering if he might have some brilliant ideas.
“The situation is pretty bad right now… I don’t even know how to put it. We’re lacking almost everything here. Sigh… Sigfried, what do you think? Any ideas?”
“I don’t really have any solutions. I’m not good at thinking.” He was bluntly honest—he really wasn’t much of a thinker, just average at best. His only true skill was managing people, and that had never failed him.
He was also aware of the situation here; this wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight.
“But don’t worry, there’s no rush. We can take it slow. And I’m here, right? If we really have no money, I can always sell my body…”
He smiled as he said it—whether joking or serious, it was probably a joke.
The silver-haired girl, whose expression had been grave, couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her cherry lips with delicate hands, trying to remain polite and composed. Looking into her lover’s eyes, filled with tenderness, she allowed herself to speak with the vulnerability of a woman only in his presence.
But reality was still harsh. Pretty words alone wouldn’t solve anything.
She understood this well and resolutely continued the conversation.
“Thank you, Sigfried. How about we accept Orlay’s request? We really do need the money. Besides, there’s no harm in returning to the Empire—except for some…”
It was clear the previous deal had not been settled well, or she wouldn’t be so troubled over it. Unexpectedly, Sigfried took her side, naturally, since she was his woman and his concern was normal.
“No, there’s no need. That guy definitely has bad intentions. On the surface, he seems normal enough, but my intuition tells me he’s not just interested in you—maybe he’s a traitor… or worse. Besides, I can tell from your expression that you don’t want to go back to the Empire. That place abandoned you—both people and things.”
“No, maybe…”
Even she hadn’t noticed her expression change subconsciously until her lover pointed it out. She lightly turned her face aside, a warm current surging through her heart.
But Emilia still chose to deny it outright. She didn’t want to jeopardize their plans or the revival of the Demon King’s Castle because of herself; that would be a loss they couldn’t afford.
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Sigfried added more reasons.
“No need means no need. Besides, if you go back to the Empire, what will happen to me here? I can’t have you running back and forth between the Empire and the Demon King’s Castle—that would exhaust you. I can’t be without you in any sense right now. Just don’t force yourself to stay with me. No matter what difficulties we face, aren’t we together?”
Then Sigfried suddenly started nosebleeding—quite unexpectedly. His eyes narrowed slightly as he hurriedly wiped it away. Something felt off; he lowered his head and looked at the hand gripping Gerard’s, where a faint numbness had spread.
Seeing Emilia’s growing panic, he quickly raised a hand to stop her, wearing a nonchalant expression.
“It’s nothing. Just a bit overheated, no big deal.”
“Are you really okay, Sigfried?”
She noticed something was wrong. Her tone, tinged with concern, ignored his protests as she carefully moved closer, until their foreheads gently touched, feeling his warmth.
She lifted her delicate hand and brushed aside his bangs to better feel his temperature.
“You’re a little hot. Do you have a fever, Sigfried?”
“Not really. I’m fine. Maybe just didn’t rest well.”
He took a deep breath before answering, though he wasn’t sure what was wrong. Hopefully, it wasn’t serious.
In truth, before Gerard died, he had passed all the power of the hero to Sigfried in a way neither gods nor demons noticed. Whether out of pure goodwill, hoping Sigfried would protect Emilia well, or some dying revenge… none of this was clear.
Maybe none of these reasons, or maybe all of them—it didn’t matter. Gerard was a strange man, after all. No one truly understood the thoughts of the dead but himself.
When Sigfried awoke again, it was no longer reality. His body had already perished, leaving only a vast blankness and the whispering of gods in his ears.
The gods needed a hero. Though the next hero would be stronger—that was the will of the world—it would take at least five years. The gods needed time to choose the right candidate, slowly arrange and guide them, until a hero was born from love and hate, inheriting the hero’s power, hatred for demons, and all sorts of revenge and retribution.
Aside from Gerard, Sigfried was just a half-finished hero—a spoiled brat indulged by Emilia, with a personality so difficult no one could fix it…
But undeniably, he was ridiculously powerful: the strongest hero in history, matched only by the strongest Demon King.
The gods had perfected this hero creation process like an assembly line. They could pull out a script anytime, because heroes made dealing with demons too easy. They naturally suppressed demons, who couldn’t intervene directly but could influence outcomes and the future.
Originally, the uncontrolled threat of the demon race would have vanished, leaving Hakimi, the Demon King, as the last threat. Emilia was meant to manipulate, influence, and reform him—but things backfired spectacularly.
This caused Emilia to lose control as well. She became a huge wild card, constantly affecting those around her, making them deviate from their fated paths—Gerard, Orlay, even the Empire itself all veered off course.
Transcenders really were too unpredictable…
But this wasn’t the worst part.
The worst was that the full power of the hero was now sealed within Hakimi, the Demon King. Though different and incompatible, both were embodiments of the world’s will. If perfectly united, it was a result none of the gods wanted.
They feared something—the prophecy child fulfilling the prophecy.
An elder demon who once saw through everything spoke shortly before his demise, words that seemed to be coming true now.
“The guided future will end. The arranged fate isn’t the best. Gods, your game of tricking everyone will be over. She is coming.”
All the gods thought it meant Sigfried, but things often unfolded in the most unexpected ways.