“Clay.”

Beatrice stepped up behind Clay, who was standing motionless inside the tent.

“Are you all right?”

“…”

No reply. She didn’t press him further, simply waiting in silence.

“…I thought the passing time had dulled it.”

Clay finally spoke.

“But it seems I was wrong.”

“Clay.”

“I showed an ugly side of myself.”

He turned to face her.

“What do you think I should do?”

Seeing his expression, Beatrice let out a quiet sigh.

As I thought.

He was trying hard to stay composed, but his eyes were trembling. He hadn’t freed himself from his old self—not completely.

That’s inevitable.

Emotions, even if they belong to you, cannot always be controlled at will. In fact, the Demon King was something born precisely from the inability to contain one’s own emotions.

The previous Demon King was the same.

But in Clay’s case, dealing with them was even more complicated. Unless his memories were erased, forgetting all the feelings he had once held for his former companions was impossible.

Even if he could not forgive them, there were moments when those emotions would strike without warning—and in those moments, he could do nothing but endure.

And now—

“Your calculations must have gone awry.”

—he had a practical problem as well.

“Facing that saint directly now could be… dangerous.”

It was a power she had never heard of before. Not Elhaim’s power, yet still a holy force. Judging by Athanasia’s reaction, it had been granted by another god entirely.

“I’m not sure I should even call it holy power, but it’s certainly a god’s gift.”

If turned against them, the damage could be devastating.

“It comes down to two choices, Clay.”

Either allow her to stay close and kill her the moment her guard is down… or use her.

“For now, accept her request to remain here, then decide later whether she lives or dies.”

“Is that the only way?”

“It’s the only way.”

Killing her outright was risky. Even if they could lure her into a moment’s carelessness, killing someone who bore the blessing of another god might provoke consequences they couldn’t predict. And failure could mean facing an immense counterattack.

“I…”

Though Beatrice’s reasoning was entirely pragmatic, Clay’s expression suggested his thoughts lay elsewhere.

“Beatrice, can I leave this to you?”

“To me?”

“Forgive me, but I can’t make a sound decision right now.”

He admitted openly that he was in a dangerously unstable state.

“I have soldiers who’ve trusted me and followed me here. We can’t afford pointless losses, and we should seize any possible advantage without hesitation.”

“All right.”

She gave a small nod.

“I was the one who brought you into this position in the first place. Rely on me whenever you need to.”

Her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder.

“Don’t torment yourself too much. Not forgiving her is one thing, but I know how painful it is just to have to face the memories of the past.”

“…”

“If you can become completely indifferent to her, you might finally be free.”

If nothing about her sparked any emotion—if he could respond only as much as necessary—he might be able to endure it.

“Unlike Lutan, your former comrades must still have good memories left in you. Even knowing they betrayed you, those memories will keep surfacing, and that will only keep you in turmoil.”

That’s how emotions worked.

“Let go of the feelings you can’t control.”

Otherwise, he would never live a new life.

“I’ll help you. You just focus on continuing to live.”

Because his life had become her reason to live.

“I just… want that for you.”

The confusion he showed looked no different from what she had once felt herself—when the dragonkin had been betrayed by humans.

Like the dragonkin and the previous Demon King, he was strong—so strong that others had sought to restrain him and take everything from him. Her sympathy was what had made her choose to stay by his side.

And in their time together, she had realized something—

That when this broken man came to rely on her…

…it was unbearably endearing.

“Stay here and wait.”

Hiding the surge of possessiveness within her, she gave him a soft smile.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She had no intention of letting anyone take this man away from her—past, present, or future.

She slowly walked out of the tent.

Outside, she saw countless demons standing around, looking uncertain and uneasy. And in the middle of them, surrounded by elves, Tia lay collapsed on the ground.

Step. Step.

Beatrice walked straight toward her.

“L-Lady Beatrice!”

“Please don’t get too close!”

“It’s dangerous!”

Tia’s body was still radiating intense power, enough to make the demons shout in alarm, unsure what harm it might cause.

Beatrice had no intention of acting rashly. She stopped at a distance she deemed safe enough for conversation.

“Tia de Mezelia.”

She called the name, but Tia showed no reaction.

“Will you not answer unless it’s Clay speaking?”

Slowly, Tia lifted her head. For someone who had just been pleading with Clay, her expression was surprisingly calm.

“What did Clay say?”

“He left the decision to me,” Beatrice answered plainly, “And? Will you accept whatever judgment I pass?”

“If it’s what Clay wants.”

“Quite bold of you.”

Beatrice met Tia’s eyes directly.

“If you’d grown this bold a bit sooner, Clay might not be the way he is now.”

Tia’s gaze wavered slightly. Beatrice began pacing around her.

“I’ll be honest. I don’t like you.”

Clay was already with Beatrice, yet he had not fully severed himself from the past. Whenever Tia appeared, he lost his grip on his emotions and suffered.

“Clay has already cut all ties from his days as a Hero. The only thing left is memory. And that can’t be erased.”

“I know I bring him pain.”

“And yet you came?”

“I can’t let him face something even worse.”

Even as a Demon King, Clay still had something he sought—whether revenge or otherwise, it didn’t matter to her.

Tia only wanted him not to collapse again. She knew well she had no right to hope for that after being the one to make him fall in the first place—but still, she hoped.

“You know as well as I do,” Tia said, “what I’m capable of if I’m here.”

An immeasurable power, one clearly from beyond this world, bound to have a definite use.

“Yes, you’re right,” Beatrice admitted.

That was the reason she hadn’t attacked Tia outright. If there had been nothing in her that could benefit Clay, she would have torn her apart and burned her without hesitation.

“For now, I’ll have to ask you myself—what exactly is that power you have?”

It felt similar to holy power, yet it wasn’t.

Tia lifted her finger toward the sky. Above them, the sun shone down.

“The sun?”

Beatrice frowned, then let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“The sun, you say?”

A power from outside this world, shining down upon it. So great it was beyond measure. That such a being—one even Beatrice, a flame dragon, might serve—would grant power to Tia was almost unthinkable.

“Do you understand what that sounds like to me right now?”

“You can take it as an insult if you wish. This is all I know.”

Beatrice sighed. It was absurd.

There were no other gods beyond Elhaen who had shown interest in this world. Whether other gods even existed was uncertain.

If Tia was telling the truth, it meant another god was watching this world. Why? Depending on that god’s purpose, the world could be thrown into upheaval again.

Her decision was clear—Tia could not be dealt with here and now.

This will be harsh for Clay.

The woman before her had been chosen. Information about the one who had chosen her could only be extracted from her.

That meant she had to be kept alive, to uncover all potential threats ahead.

Beatrice studied the light swirling around Tia’s body again. It shifted from blue to red, flowing like fire—she could see traces of the high-tier fire magics Prominence and Flare in it. If Tia was using such magic as naturally as breathing—

No… I shouldn’t overestimate her just yet.

She hadn’t fully gauged Tia’s strength. She couldn’t afford to show any sign of being overawed.

For now, it wasn’t about comparing who was stronger.

“Fine. I won’t get worked up over something you didn’t intend.”

She made her decision.

“There’s an old, shabby tent we use as a storage shed at the edge of camp. If you’re fine with that, you can stay there.”

“L-Lady Beatrice!”

“We can’t keep the Saint here—”

At the demons’ protests, Beatrice turned her head.

“Really? Then you deal with her.”

“W-What?”

“If she can’t stay here, then you’re the ones who have to drive her out, aren’t you?”

Their mouths snapped shut. Beatrice looked back to Tia.

“Decide. What will you do?”

Tia slowly rose to her feet. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“It won’t be comfortable for you, but neither is it for us—bear it.”

Beatrice turned to the elves standing by her.

“They all answer to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then set them as perimeter guards. Make sure nothing like you gets in again.”

“…So someone else has already been to Clay, I see.” Tia lowered her gaze briefly, then murmured, “Likely Yuru.”

“If you can deduce that, then you know—you’re not much different from her in Clay’s eyes.”

Yuru was already a headache for everyone, a calamity beyond control. To be compared to her could have been insulting, but Tia showed no reaction.

“Boring. Go on.”

Beatrice pointed out a demon to escort Tia. He trembled as he led Tia and her elves away.

Silence remained.

As Beatrice stood with a sigh, a ripple of blue light flew toward her.

“Oh? Something happen?”

It was Naiad, the Water Spirit King, returning after saying she would go get some fresh air.

(End of Chapter)

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