The Ancient God, Crea.

Among the gods who once lived in Pandea’s past, she was believed to be the most powerful. The authority to create and shape laws—such was the power she possessed.

Rumble—

“Demon King!”

Seeing the magic circle blazing with intense light, Syltanaro shouted.

“Get a hold of your—”

Kwoooom!

With a deafening blast, Syltanaro was thrown from the ground. Clay was flung away from her, rolling across the earth from the impact.

The magic circle activated.

Streams of light burst forth from the ground, binding Clay’s body. Syltanaro, regaining her senses, tried to pull him free, but it was already too late.

Clay’s body was engulfed by the immense light.

♧

Neville.

Unlike his father, Emperor Lutan, he was regarded as warm-hearted and constructive. His only flaw, as people often whispered, was that his gentle nature kept him from fully realizing those strengths.

And Clay had somewhat agreed with that reputation. Neville was someone who could lead the nation well, but he lacked the firmness needed to back it.

Even so, Clay had hoped Neville would eventually find his footing and bring forth the dream he kept hidden. From the days of their youth, Neville had been consistent, and because Clay had treated him with that same constancy, he had believed in him.

“...Cough.”

Yet the last words Clay had heard before losing consciousness utterly betrayed that belief.

Neville was the mastermind behind it all.

Clay opened his eyes, recalling what Tia had told him. Darkness filled his vision.

“Syltanaro?”

He called out the sword’s name, but no reply came. Turning his head, he found that though there was no light, his sight wasn’t fully obstructed.

‘This place...’

He knew instinctively where he was. He had been here before.

–Keh keh keh.

–So you’ve returned here once more.

–Seems your fate is not so different from ours.

His mental world.

The place where he had imprisoned the countless spirits that once attacked him. Their chatter echoed around him as Clay stood up.

‘...Did a collapse occur?’

The balance between body and mind was disrupted. No matter how he tried to regain control of his body, Clay couldn’t escape this inner world.

–That one is stronger than you.

–You won’t be able to resist.

Jeers surrounded him. Clay furrowed his brow, shifting his gaze. As irritating as they were, now wasn’t the time to bother with them.

–Wh-what is this?

–Wait!

–Something is flowing in!

Suddenly, the mood among the imprisoned spirits shifted drastically. A white radiance—or rather, something that looked like liquid—was seeping into his mental world. In an instant, it wrapped around the prison that bound the spirits.

–W-what is that?! Aaaaargh!

–Save me!

The white liquid dissolved both the prison and the spirits trapped inside. Seeing it approach him as well, Clay staggered back.

‘What is this?’

He couldn’t identify it. But since it could erase the spirits that resided in his mental world, it was only logical to see it as dangerous.

“!”

But Clay couldn’t run. More precisely, he had no time to avoid it. The liquid spread too quickly, covering his mental world.

Before he knew it, he was standing in a white expanse. A place of nothingness, glowing with light—it was far from a pleasant experience.

Squelch—

When he stepped forward, the liquid floor rippled like a puddle. His footsteps echoed through the silence as he walked on.

And then he saw her.

A white-haired woman standing not far away.

She stared at him with unfocused, pale eyes. Clay stopped before her.

“Who are you?”

Though he already guessed, he asked to confirm.

“Clay.”

The woman opened her mouth.

“Pitiful Hero.”

Hero.

Clay let out a long breath.

“An Ancient God, then.”

“My name is Crea.”

The pinnacle of the Ancient Gods who had existed since ages past.

She spoke to him.

“I am a god of a dead era.”

“Then why are you binding me, god of a dead era?”

Crea closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them.

“This is not of my will.”

“You mean someone is controlling you?”

“I collapsed long ago. The seal both trapped my final will and shackled my power.”

She raised her hand.

“As the user intends, I must return you to being a Hero once more.”

“Return me to a Hero?” Clay gave a dry laugh, “And how exactly do you intend to do that?”

He had already abandoned his former body and become the Demon King—body and spirit alike.

“Do you mean to erase my memories?”

“No.” Crea spoke softly, “I will only return your body to what it once was.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Clay scowled at the unpleasant words.

“Just as I say. I will make your body that of a Hero again.”

That meant denying the very transformation he had undergone to become the Demon King.

“You mean to restore my physical structure?”

“Yes.”

“That’s absurd.”

Clay had already undergone the process to sever himself from Elhaen. Even if his body reverted, his ties wouldn’t return to what they once were.

“I have no desire to go back. You were Elhaen’s enemy—don’t you feel any revulsion doing this?”

“I do.” Crea replied, “But as I said, I am shackled.”

“Then resist.”

“This is not something I, nor you, nor any human can break.

“Why not?”

“Because these shackles were placed on me directly by Elhaen.”

Her gaze dropped slightly.

“Meant solely for this kind of moment, to be used as a tool for but one purpose.”

“...A tool, for this kind of moment?”

Then Elhaen must have anticipated that problems like this could arise even after Hero Clay’s execution.

If that were true, then even the execution itself had been part of Elhaen’s plan. And when that plan went awry, the Ancient God standing before him was meant to serve as the contingency.

“Absurd.” Clay muttered under his breath, “So you’re just going to obey like some puppet?”

“That is all I am capable of.”

“Pathetic.” Clay spat the word like an insult, “Elhaen reduced you to nothing more than a tool. And you can’t even think of resisting until the end, even if it costs your life?”

“This is not a matter of choice.” Crea shook her head, “If I resist, the last fragments of my power will detonate. My authority over creation will invert into destruction.”

The force of it, enough to annihilate an entire nation.

“You understand what that means.”

Every companion Clay had brought into this land would be obliterated.

“You made a grave mistake, Clay.”

He should never have brought the Demon King’s Army into this country.

“If you don’t accept my power, you will erase every being here. Yourself included.”

Nonsense.

Clay was left speechless for a moment.

“...What in the world...”

What did Elhaen want from him?

“Does it expect me to live as nothing but its dog? After shoving me onto the execution platform?”

It didn’t make sense. The bitterness twisted in his gut.

“If Elhaen wanted me to keep living as a Hero, it should have prevented this situation from the start. But it didn’t. From what you’re saying, it’s clear Elhaen is the true mastermind behind all of this.”

Neville too had received Elhaen’s blessing. If Neville hid secret strength, it had to be Elhaen’s gift.

Clay could not comprehend this.

Why?

Why create a Hero, only to kill him? And why cling so obsessively to him even now?

“Clay.” Crea’s voice reached him, “Trying to understand will only bring you pain.”

She stepped toward him.

“In the end, you and I are both trapped in Elhaen’s grasp. Do as it wills. It only wants—”

She stopped suddenly.

“There’s no time.” She seized Clay’s arm, “I no longer wish to suffer under this chain. Let it go, Clay. There is no other way.”

“Kh?!”

White liquid surged up his arm in an instant. Clay tried to wrench himself free, but it was impossible.

“Forgive me.”

Her unfocused eyes met his.

“Sometimes, destiny is forced upon us.”

“Don’t—mock me!”

Clay ground his teeth, leaning back with all his strength.

“I refuse to believe in such things!”

Crack—!

He clawed at the hardened white liquid creeping over his body. Chunks fell to the ground as he staggered back.

“I only wish to end this quickly.”

Crea continued to close the distance.

“Stop resisting. Return to the faith you once had.”

“Elhaen shattered that faith.” Clay’s eyes blazed, “I gave it everything I had as a Hero. Yet when I needed it most, Elhaen gave me nothing. Am I supposed to keep believing in someone who cast me aside?”

“it did not cast you aside. That, in itself, is the problem.”

“I don’t care to hear it.”

Everything she said was nothing but twisted excuses.

“You are just another puppet, being pulled by strings.”

“I am merely trying to end this with the least sacrifice.” Crea’s voice was low, almost mournful, “You too must have something left to protect.”

Yes. He did.

Though he thought he had abandoned all of that when he cast away the title of Hero, new things had been placed in his hands once again.

As long as he lived, such things would continue to appear. Clay realized this belatedly.

And so he admitted it. Crea was right—he did have something to protect.

But even so—

“Raaahhhh!”

He would not live according to Elhaen’s will.

“Elhaeeeen!”

Rage flared in his eyes.

Fwoooosh!

Power erupted through his body.

“What...?”

Crea faltered.

“Why do you bear the power of another god?”

Clay gave no answer. The mark on the back of his hand was glowing crimson.

At the same time, heat coursed through his body. The thread he had swallowed before was now burning inside him.

Gritting his teeth through pain sharp enough to make him scream, Clay seized Crea’s arm with a crushing grip.

“My turn.”

Kwoooooom!

A fierce solar energy exploded outward from his body.

(End of Chapter)