“Aaaah—mm—aaaaaaa—” The scream tore like silk before my warning could leave my mouth.

Damn it. Catherine got hit. First time seeing the Demon King’s true malice, no prep, forced to grasp “Slaughter” by pain.

“Such lovely screams, kukuku. I’m Anna, the Demon King’s heiress.”

None of us spared a thought for the stars. Only Catherine loosed an arrow skyward.

In other words, she saw the apex of darkness, an ink well tipped over the heavens.

In the old histories, I fought her once. No grudge, even a shard of admiration.

Plainly, I don’t want her dead. I want to save her. Even Demonfolk shatter the pure only at its peak.

Dying here would be a foolish end, like a jade cup smashed on a dirt road.

I lowered my lashes and groped toward the place her scream tore open.

“Catherine! Answer me!”

“Aaaah—arrr—ughh!”

My Greatsword stayed out of shadow. I hugged its weight and moved to charge. The screams cut off.

Where’s Catherine? What happened? The questions scraped like nails on glass.

Under that Pale Coffin Exile, I’m just a human now. I can’t die, but concepts bite clean through.

Mind-rot won’t touch me, yet if I look straight at Anna, my mask will crack.

And… in my heart, a teammate’s life outranks my cover by a mountain.

A glance should be fine. Anna’s in a human shape, not in her chaotic “Slaughter.” It should be safer.

I opened my eyes to mark the spot, then shut them fast like a door in a storm.

Anna held Catherine’s face in one hand, lifted her like a flower by the stem. Catherine’s features twisted, clutching her skull, sobbing bricks of sound.

“Girl, why not look at my face? Kukuku. Anna’s perfect face was modeled after a girl so beautiful men killed each other, then she was executed for it.”

She stroked Catherine’s tear-streaked cheek, tapped her nose, a cat toying with a bird.

“Your face is adorable. A proper face knotted into a ball—ah, too cute. Give it to me?”

“As long as you’re ‘killed,’ I can take your face from my realm. Your beauty becomes eternal. Kukuku. Not bad, right?”

Don’t look. Look and die. The thought burned like a brand.

“Get away!”

I swung and cut where Anna stood. The blade met something.

Which is wrong. Anna is a concept, not a body. So I hit—

“Kukuku. Boy, why kill your own teammate? Love and hate are numberless, but killing one who trusts you is always bad.”

Her bewitching voice breathed in my ear, then pulled away like tide.

I knew she’d play nasty. I held back. Catherine shouldn’t be dead.

“Catherine! Damn it—Elina, give me Divine Art—no, wait, don’t—”

I had HolyWater, but my reflex called Elina. I forgot: move wrong, and ghosts snatch you.

“Andor, I’m coming at once—my God, watch over—”

“This body’s prototype charmed several kings. Boy, you’d kill me so coldly and still call another lover? Kukuku. I’m smiling, but I’m green with envy.”

A hand muffled Elina’s mouth. Thirty meters meant nothing. Gone here, there again. Teleport.

We’re trapped inside Anna’s realm. Here, she’s a god who sees and knows all.

She covered Elina’s eyes like a prankster girlfriend, hugged from behind, finger to her pouting lips.

“Shh. People caught by ghosts shouldn’t talk.”

“Get out, Demon King!”

A blade from the Godspeed Realm. Stini just revived, body ruined by our mess, still swung.

The ancestral secret of the Hero line cut air. It skimmed Anna’s cheek, carving a thin blood line.

Stini’s lip bled, red as a seal stamped on paper.

Anna touched her face and snapped strands of hair, excitement sparking like flint.

“Kukuku. You’re impressive. Every one of you could be a Hero—brave, skilled, packed with love and justice. Kukuku. I’m getting wet.”

The “Slaughter” in the air paused, then spread like wildfire through dry reeds.

Light was “killed.” Thick darkness soaked every inch. We saw each other and nothing else.

Honestly, if animated, this scene would be cheap to draw.

She slipped into the black again, merged with her own domain. Malice laughed from everywhere at once.

“But I’m evil Demonfolk. I must kill Heroes. So all of you, die for me, okay?”

First target: the profession Demonfolk hate most—the Divine Healer.

Clang—

“Yaaah!”

“I won’t let you hurt my friend!”

Stini gripped the Giant Scythe’s haft barehanded and met Anna’s ink-black eyes.

“Go. I’ll hold her!”

“Oh? You didn’t kill Sorek? Kukuku. Heroes are merciful indeed.”

Oddly, Anna released the Giant Scythe. She unfastened a box from Stini and opened it.

Inside lay Sorek’s skull, pale as winter bone.

Stini held the Giant Scythe, stunned, like a dancer missing her cue.

“Dear Sorek. Adorable even dead. Kukuku. Any words, Mr. Eight-Deaths-in-a-row?”

Anna cradled the skull and kissed its brow, “killing” Sorek’s seal. She rocked him like a baby.

“... Demon King… my… wife…”

“Oh, that.” She clapped once. “Don’t worry. Your wife can’t revive anyway.”

Her voice cut crisp, like a blade snapped clean.

“... Why… I…” Soul-fire flickered in the skull’s sockets like a candle in wind.

“How can the dead revive, Sorek? You’re thinking too much. I made a body like your wife, a soul like hers, memories like hers. Only like.”

“Kukuku. You’re dull now, so I may as well say it.”

“... We… traded…”

“Of course it was fake. By the way, you’re fake too. A false Sorek, or Sorek’s obsession.”

“... I…”

“When I made the deal, I already took his soul. You’re just patched-in obsession. Why else do you keep ending as dry bone? Kukuku.”

She kissed him one last time, then lifted him and let him fall.

“Kukuku. One last performance, Sorek. No—Mr. Obsession.”

The jaw gaped in terror. Smoke and flame belched from the bone’s holes, then burned the skull to ash.

Fire formed a raging face and lunged at Anna, a storm-face born of grief.

“... Ann… a…”

It died the instant it touched her. A candle snuffed by a cold godhand.

Sorek wasn’t in the Hero Squad, so “Slaughter” erased him like chalk in rain.

“Ah, killing an old toy hurts. My heart clogs. Pain spills like black tea. Kukuku. But I’m Demonfolk. This feeling thrills me.”

“Kukuku. Boys and girls, any questions? Anna-sis is candid and knows it all.”

She leaned, tongue out, flashed a V, then sank into the dark like ink thinning in water.

Black space brings fear, like a blind forest. Worse is knowing eyes weigh on you from nowhere.

“For example, you there, Hero girl. Any questions?”

Anna patted Stini’s round cheek, vanished, then appeared a little way off.

Hands behind her back, she tilted her head in a cute pose.

“Like, why did I betray Sorek despite a contract?”

“You betrayed Uncle Sorek! He did so much for his wife!”

Stini’s voice ground like teeth on stone.

“I didn’t break the contract.”

“Eh?”

“Promise him eternal life, then grant eternal life. Promise resurrection, then grant resurrection.”

“Kukuku. ‘A Demon King’s generosity equals their cruelty.’ Heard that?”

“Then you—”

“I only lied. I won’t breach a contract. I don’t want the Contract God Appoint coming after me.”

“...”

“No one bars me from lying. I’m the Demon King. Kukuku. Self-made anger, self-made impulse, self-made death.”

She folded her arms, a saint’s posture, a devil’s tongue.

“Mortals are arrogant things. It’s all their own fault.”

“You Demon King! Devil!”

“Correct. Kukuku. I’m the Demon King.”

She appeared behind Stini again and patted her right shoulder like an old friend.

This time our Hero couldn’t react. Her sword clanged to the floor.

“Wh—”

“The Hero ability ‘God and Devil as One’… you call it ‘Immunity Privilege.’ It blocks privilege-domain attacks.”

“So why was your right hand ‘killed’? Patient Teacher Anna will explain.”

Anna seized Stini’s neck and patted her left shoulder, a puppeteer’s touch.

“‘Immunity Privilege’ stops domain attacks. But once a concept clings to matter, it’s hard to avoid.”

“A handy setting. It lets a Hero challenge a Demon King without being exiled from the world.”

She massaged Stini’s left leg like kneading dough.

“Kukuku. Keep the right leg. But can you still stand?”

“Bastard… you did this to me—”

Anna ignored panicking Elina and crouched before Stini.

“Beautiful eyes. Anger, hatred, grit. Will you gift them to me?”

Her palms pressed for the eyes, one finger shy. Then a thousand machines coiled up, Constructs like iron pythons.

“Oh, nice. Planning to strangle me? But how do you kill ‘Slaughter’?”

She vanished there and bloomed here. Anna flashed before Raven and walked her way.

“Uh…”

Raven trembled, but forced the Constructs to block like a dam of gears.

“I’m tired. That trick’s cute once. Once is enough.”

Bad. The boss is winding up the team-wipe.

“Bloodless things still dare advance?”

Her words carried weight. Tangible darkness spewed out, sky-collapsing, sea-roaring, earth-splitting.

Every Construct flew out of sight like bugs in a tornado. Even Gloria got blown—no, smashed.

The flying mass defied names. It was “Slaughter” itself, a storm with teeth.

Then the second sentence fell, heavy as judgment:

“All with flesh—how can you escape?”

Even Immunity Privilege couldn’t fully block it. Eyes shut did nothing. Presence speared through lids like needles.

Body to spirit, all parameters plunged. For Anna, it was just a full-power stance, not even an attack.

That aura alone knocked most of us out of the fight, like a bell tolling you numb.

She’s terrifying. I stood in the gale, spending everything just to stay upright.

She’s stronger than I remember. Home field plays a part, but she’s grown.

So—what do I do?

What can I do? Abandon a strategy I poured my hours into?

Not possible.

Only forward, then—into the wind.

I narrow my eyes—storm-darkness churns, and Anna’s shape blurs in its eye.

My grip tightens on the battered Greatsword, a broken oar before a black tide.

I don’t die. For me, it’s just picking the size of profit, like weighing silver on a scale.

So no, I won’t call myself brave; the word burns like a torch I haven’t earned.

Stini and her crew knew danger, knew the road might not lead back, yet they smiled and stepped into bloodshed like onto a storm-lit stage.

It’s mortal folk like them who hold true courage, like stones that choose to face the river.