Something felt wrong with his body.

It was as if he were experiencing the procedures he had undergone with Lin and Goltche in reverse. Worse still, it felt like he had been dragged back to the time before he ever stood upon the execution platform.

“Hhhhk—!”

Moments later, Clay opened his eyes. He found himself in some kind of passageway. Propping himself up with one arm, he forced his upper body off the ground.

The magic circle that had been beneath his feet earlier was gone without a trace.

“Kh...”

It was clear he had escaped his mental world. But the pain hadn’t faded. His entire body felt like it had been battered with a club.

“...!”

Then his expression changed sharply as he looked down at himself.

The Brands.

The marks that had covered his body were all gone. Through the tattered tears in his clothing, his torso was now smooth, unscarred flesh.

“No way...”

He remembered Crea’s words. Panicked, he tried to summon Magia.

Nothing happened.

The only power he could wield now was—

Flaaash!

Holy power.

“Demon King?”

A voice called to him. He turned his head, eyes widening. Approaching him was Syltanaro, in human form.

“Thank goodness! You’re here!”

She collapsed beside him, hurriedly checking his condition.

“Are you hurt anywh—”

She froze mid-sentence. Her eyes had fallen on the exposed skin beneath his collar.

“Huh?”

She knew well what state his body had been in before. Yet now, seeing Clay’s perfectly unblemished flesh, her face was filled with confusion.

“Demon King? How...?”

“There were circumstances.”

Clay quickly deflected.

“You couldn’t see me, could you.”

It seemed Crea’s isolation hadn’t been confined to his mental world alone. Syltanaro nodded, still looking uneasy.

“Ah—yes. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

She let out a sigh, as though recalling the ordeal.

“I feared you might have been in grave danger.”

“Thank you. For worrying so much.”

“N-no, it’s nothing.”

Even as she spoke, her face was still full of questions. Seeing it, Clay stifled a groan inwardly.

‘So... I can’t use Magia at all?’

If so, then everything Crea had told him had been true.

‘She really meant it?’

She had said she would revert his body to that of his Hero days. That meant undoing everything that had made him the Demon King.

‘The Coexistence Core...’

He focused on it desperately, fearing he might have lost even that. If his body truly had reverted, then the core shouldn’t exist anymore.

‘It’s there.’

To his surprise, it remained. He could sense it clearly. Relieved, he exhaled.

‘So not everything changed.’

Perhaps even Crea couldn’t tamper with it.

‘No...’

It was different.

He could feel it. The power inside the Coexistence Core wasn’t Magia or holy power anymore. It was—

‘Origin...?’

Crea’s essence. It had lodged itself inside his Coexistence Core.

Clay let out a bitter laugh.

Power with no place to go had taken refuge in the empty space Magia had left behind. That was why the core had survived when everything else had reverted.

‘Then...’

Had Crea succeeded, in the end? She had sworn she would leave behind an obstacle to prevent him from becoming a Hero again. Perhaps she had kept her word.

Clay felt conflicted.

He had become the Demon King, only to now find himself unable to use Magia at all. His body was no longer fit to bear that title.

“Demon King?”

Syltanaro leaned closer, worried.

“Are you alright? Your complexion—”

“I’m fine.”

He had no choice but to say so. The war was still raging. He couldn’t reveal what had happened here.

‘Crea...’

He remembered the end.

The moment he received Crea’s Origin, his mental world had collapsed completely. She had dissolved along with it. He had thought she would simply vanish quietly—but then she had suddenly exploded.

It had been a flood. An inescapable surge that swallowed everything. Even as he tried to flee, the white tide engulfed him.

And when it was over—he had awoken like this.

Clench—

He tightened his fist. Holy power surged into him.

‘Still clinging to me, are you?’

Even if Elhaen flooded him with holy power, Clay’s path would not change. He would use every ounce of strength he had to bring that god down.

That was all there was left for him. Until then, he had to keep commanding the Demon King’s Army without faltering.

‘He must think this body is already his.’

Believing it tainted with Magia, Elhaen was surely supplying him with even more holy power.

Because he wanted to seize a cleansed vessel.

‘Even though Crea left behind an obstacle...?’

Even before receiving her Origin, he had been able to draw on holy power. Elhaen had never taken it away.

‘Perhaps...’

That was part of the condition for descent.

Clay wanted nothing more than to sever that link at once. But ever since he had been chosen as a Hero, he had never been able to cut it himself.

He should have realized it long ago. He laughed bitterly at his own blindness.

In the end, there was no helping it. Deprived of Magia, the only power he could wield now was ironically holy power.

‘Come and try to take it, if you dare.’

Grinding his teeth, Clay forced himself to his feet. The mantle of strength Beatrice had once draped over him was long gone, erased without a trace by Crea’s explosion.

“Demon King.”

Syltanaro rushed to support him.

“Can you walk?”

“For now.”

“Then let me help you.”

Leaning on her for support, Clay began to walk slowly. The magic circles carved into the ground had all vanished.

Now he had to find Neville—the one who had been controlling them—and demand answers.

Boom!

As they retraced their steps, a tremor shook the air.

‘That...’

Exiting the shadowed corridor that had felt like a safe haven, they emerged once more into the cavern teeming with giant demons.

Kwooom! Kwaaang!

And there was Tia.

With the magic circle gone and Neville nowhere to be seen, the giant demons had gone berserk again. But this time, they weren’t hunting for Clay. Their rampage was aimed solely at Tia.

“You’re alive...”

Syltanaro swallowed hard, her voice trembling.

“Tia helped me and the Demon King escape from the giant demons.”

“She helped?”

Clay frowned.

He had been pulled into Crea’s trap regardless. Whether or not Tia had bought them time against the giants wouldn’t have changed much.

‘No... perhaps not.’

Magic circles designed to target a specific victim worked better in wide spaces.

Which meant—the trap had likely been set right here.

If so, then the corridor he had just crawled out of might have been nothing more than a temporary refuge to keep him alive.

It was only speculation, but... Clay turned his gaze toward Tia, who was still locked in combat.

“We move.”

“What?”

“While their eyes are on her, we should slip out.”

“Ah, but...”

Syltanaro hesitated. Clay glanced at her.

Though enemies, she clearly felt uneasy receiving Tia’s aid. Seeing her troubled face, Clay sighed softly.

“If it bothers you, we can turn back. Perhaps that way also has an exit.”

“No, that won’t do.” Syltanaro shook her head firmly, “They already set traps here, didn’t they? There could be more if we go back. Better to stay on this path.”

“So you’d rather we fight alongside her?” Clay’s body was in no state to fight, “If you want to keep me safe, this is the only chance.”

“...”

“Syltanaro.”

“Yes.”

Finally answering, she began guiding him away.

“Then let’s move unseen. Please, lean on me as much as you need.”

“Understood.”

The booms echoed endlessly. However many giants Neville had confined, Tia was battling them without rest—like Clay himself had once fought, single-handed, in the dungeons as a Hero to protect his comrades.

Kwooooom!

A louder roar shook the cavern. Clay’s head snapped toward it.

Another giant had appeared. This one nearly scraped the cavern’s ceiling, shaking the very earth with each step.

“This won’t do.”

If this continued, the cavern itself would collapse. Clay pushed Syltanaro aside gently.

“Syltanaro.”

He held out his hand. Understanding his intent, she transformed into a sword and leapt into his grasp.

“Kh—!”

But Clay’s face contorted in pain, his knees buckling as he dropped to the ground. He couldn’t properly hold her. Gripping her form only increased his suffering.

『Demon King!』

Syltanaro’s voice rang out, panicked.

『Something’s wrong! My power is attacking you instead!』

It wasn’t truly attacking him—it was simply that their natures no longer matched. But the result was the same.

『Let go of me, quickly!』

Clay’s partially restored Hero’s body was still resonating with Syltanaro, but now the resonance was breaking him.

He clenched his teeth.

‘Even with the Coexistence Core, it’s no use?’

The problem was clear. The core no longer balanced Magia and holy power—it now carried only Crea’s essence and holy power.

He could no longer harmonize Magia at all.

Crack!

With no choice, Clay released her hilt. She instantly reverted to human form, pale-faced.

“Demon King!”

She caught his staggering body.

“Are you alright?”

But Clay couldn’t answer. He didn’t even know what to say.

Meanwhile, the nearby giants, alerted by the commotion, turned their heads. Their eyes locked on Clay and began charging straight toward him.

“Syltanaro.”

“Yes, Demon King?”

“Whatever happens next—do not interfere.”

Turning his head, he saw her.

Tia, running toward him, having noticed the uproar—and realized he had returned.

She reached him before the giants could, her sword flashing as she raised it to strike.

Clang!

But the blade was snatched from her hand—by Clay himself.

Excalbren.

Flaaash!

The Holy Sword blazed to life once more, answering Clay now that his body had reverted to that of a Hero.

(End of Chapter)