“Well now.”

Seeing Yuru, Neville let out a dry laugh.

“Of all people, you’re the one I’d hoped not to meet.”

“Is that so?”

Yuru walked toward him.

“!”

Geshkafor flinched in alarm as she passed, but Yuru didn’t so much as glance at him.

“So tell me—what’s the point of all this?”

“To return Clay to what he truly is: the Hero.”

Neville answered without hesitation.

“That is his rightful form.”

“I see.” Yuru nodded lightly, “Bring him back to what he was, hm? Sounds almost nice, actually.”

Geshkafor’s brow twitched.

Don’t tell me…

He knew Yuru’s reputation. Master of the Blue Tower, Clay’s former companion from his Hero days. Rumor even had it she’d reached the level of an Origin mage.

She wouldn’t side with him… would she?

Everyone knew she had broken after Clay’s execution. If she decided Clay belonged as the Hero again, it could unleash disaster.

He blurted out, desperate:

“Yuru.”

“Hm?”

She turned her head, and Geshkafor swallowed hard.

“The Demon King has already crossed a past that cannot be undone.”

“…What do you mean?”

“He would never wish to return to being a Hero.”

He raised his fist, glaring.

“If you even think of cooperating with this man—”

“Ahahahaha!”

Yuru suddenly burst out laughing. Geshkafor staggered back, bracing for a spell, but instead she spoke softly:

“Me? Cooperate?”

Her face went blank.

“Not a chance.”

Clay could never go back. The Hero had been executed; even if somehow revived in that form, nothing would change.

“Unless, of course, time itself could be turned back.”

But she would never force upon him what he didn’t want.

“I won’t let my brother suffer at someone else’s whim ever again.”

Her gaze snapped back to Neville.

“So no, I don’t agree with you.”

“…Is that so.”

Neville sighed.

“Then you’ll only make things more troublesome.”

“Good. I like troublesome.”

Yuru thrust out a hand.

Whrrr.

Magic flared. The floor warped upward into a giant hand, closing around Neville.

“I won’t kill you. I’ll leave that to Clay.”

Crunch!

The earthen fist clenched tight, crushing the space around him.

Geshkafor’s throat went dry.

Incredible…

The spell itself was simple, yet she had cast it in an instant—no chant, no circle. Pure will into power.

Boom!

But then the earth shattered.

“Kh—!”

Rocks exploded outward, smashing into Geshkafor and sending him tumbling, coughing blood. He staggered up—

“No way…”

Neville stepped free, rolling his shoulders as though merely stretching.

That’s not the man I knew.

This was no meek princeling hiding at Clay’s side. He had been masking terrifying strength all along.

“You make things difficult.”

Neville’s tone was almost regretful.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t interfere.”

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t.”

Yuru’s eyes gleamed.

“Sit still.”

Blue light blazed. Barriers sprang up around Neville—layer upon layer, a cage of light and shadow.

“Impressive.”

Neville touched the walls calmly.

“To think you can weave wards against flame, frost, metal, curses, poisons… All at once. Truly, Origin is beyond imagination.”

“Funny,” Yuru tilted her head. “I was thinking the same about you.”

She had laced even her earlier earthen prison with darkness barriers to sever holy power. He had broken free as if it were nothing.

“…I’ll take it as a compliment. I can’t defeat an Origin mage outright. But since you don’t yet understand me…”

He pressed a finger to the barrier.

“I can still slip away.”

“What—?”

Shhhk.

Neville stepped through the wards. All of them.

“You—!”

Yuru lunged, but he sprang back, feet pounding the floor.

Kiinnng!

She flooded herself with acceleration spells, body blurring as the world smeared. Yet even at full tilt, she could not close the distance.

He stayed just out of reach.

“Haah—!”

Yuru exhaled, breath turning into sparks. Heat flared, shooting forward as a torrent of flame-breath toward his fleeing figure.

Got you.

Or so she thought—until his image fractured like a broken mirror, scattering into dozens of reflections. Her breath veered and dispersed into nothing.

“What…?”

An impossibility. Power beyond even her comprehension.

And then she realized—

“This isn’t magic at all.”

“Authority, huh.”

A divine Authority—granted by a god.

And strong enough to stand against her, an Origin.

“Unbelievable.”

Yuru gave a hollow laugh, realizing it was Elhaen’s gift.

“What exactly did you intend with this?”

She couldn’t fathom why Neville had been given such a power. But one thing was certain: here and now, she could not catch him.

Of all places…

Clay was close by. She couldn’t unleash destructive magic at full force without risking him.

This is bad.

Every spell she tried warped apart as it neared Neville. The only way to break through would be to seize the space itself and tear it apart—but that much force would collapse everything around them.

That would disappoint Clay.

She’d come forward, only to fail in seizing Neville—what would he think? And worse, Geshkafor had seen it all.

Then…

There was only one choice left. She would stop trying to capture him, and do something else.

“You’re impressive,” Neville said, glancing back.

“But if you’re distracted by him, it can’t be helped. Perhaps another time we can talk. After all, we both care deeply for Clay, do we not?”

“There won’t be another time.”

Yuru’s eyes blazed.

“I won’t let you slip away.”

“Too late.”

Space itself warped violently around Neville.

“For now, I’ll be retreating. You won’t catch me.”

“You’re right. I won’t—”

Yuru snapped her fingers.

The halo spun above her head, and Omniscience flared. Her body blurred, half-ethereal.

“But if you twist space, then I’ll twist with you.”

Distortion met distortion. Neither could interfere, but she could follow.

“…You.”

Neville’s eyes narrowed as she dove straight into the warped path he had opened.

“How far are you willing to go?”

“If it’s to help my brother—probably all the way.”

Her blue gaze bore into his as she closed in.

“Wherever you’re taking us, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

Together, they vanished into the swirling rift.

The distortion snapped shut. Nothing remained.

“Hah… hah…”

Late to arrive, Geshkafor stumbled into the chamber. He looked around, baffled.

“What the hell? Where did they go?”

No trace of them lingered. He cursed under his breath, then turned down another corridor.

I didn’t come here for them anyway.

What he needed was the keystone sustaining the spell-circle. That was the only way he could help Clay.

Neville wouldn’t have moved without a reason… And he must have limits. If he vanished through space like that, he had to be drawing power from nearby. I can still feel the residue.

The faint trail led deeper in. Geshkafor grinned grimly, following it at a run—until he crashed into a wall that refused to yield.

“Khagh!”

He bounced back, teeth gritted, then froze.

“…So this is it.”

The resistance itself proved something was hidden here.

“Thanks, Yuru!”

Neville’s trail had led him straight to it.

“This is where I make my mark—where I rise as a pillar of the Demon King’s army!”

His eyes burned with fevered ambition. He raised his fists high.

“Wait for me, my lord!”

A savage grin split his face.

“I’ll prove myself here and now!”

(End of Chapter)