It had been instinct.

Perhaps it could work—such a thought had pushed Clay to snatch Excalbren from Tia’s hand.

Krrruuuuuh!

The giant demon before him, mindless of who it was attacking, brought its massive arm down toward him.

“Demon King!”

Syltanaro cried out.

But before she could act, Clay swung the sword.

Slash!

A crescent arc cut through the air.

The giant demon’s wrist was severed, flying away into the void.

Krrraaaaaaagh!

It howled in agony, stumbling backward. Clay glanced down at Excalbren.

The Holy Sword gleamed gold.

Resonance.

Something impossible for the Demon King’s body had just occurred.

‘So it’s true...’

Clay exhaled inwardly.

‘I really have returned.’

Not completely. But enough. He could wield holy power again, as he had in those days.

“Clay...!”

Tia’s eyes widened, astonishment plain on her face.

Thoom, thoom, thoom!

The giant charged again with its remaining arm. Clay watched it calmly—

Whoosh!

—and swung the blade sideways.

Kwoooooom!

Holy power burst from Excalbren, tearing the demon apart.

“...!”

Syltanaro’s face twisted in shock.

‘Impossible...’

Clay had been powerful even as the Demon King. But what she saw now was different—it was as if he had regained the very power that was always meant for him.

‘Has the strength he once wielded as a Hero... fully returned?’

The power that had crushed the former Demon King—Clay bore that very might once more.

“...”

But if she expected him to rejoice, she was mistaken. Clay only stared down silently at the blade in his hand.

“Tia.”

He looked toward her.

“I don’t hear Excalbren’s voice anymore.”

“What?”

“Perhaps because you altered it so you could wield it.”

He sighed faintly.

“In the past, I would never have imagined doing such a thing to you.”

“That’s...”

“I’m not asking for an explanation.”

Clay turned away, eyeing the demons still advancing. His words this time were for Syltanaro.

“Syltanaro.”

“Yes, Demon King?”

“I can no longer wield you.”

Their resonance was broken.

“Can you fight on your own?”

Before she could answer, more giants surged forward, swinging their arms down.

Whoosh!

With a single sweeping strike, Clay severed them all.

‘It’s real...’

Syltanaro’s jaw dropped.

‘This... this is his true power.’

Kwoooooom!

The shockwave roared. Dust and wind whipped around the cavern, forcing Syltanaro to shield her face.

And through it, she saw him.

Clay, wearing a face clouded with turmoil.

‘Demon King...’

She could sense the conflict in him.

‘He doesn’t want this.’

She knew the Hero Clay had once been. His strength had been staggering, even greater than the Demon King’s at times.

But back then, Clay had cherished that power. He had wielded it with purpose, without hesitation, cutting down demons with unwavering faith.

He had been a Hero who advanced with belief.

Now he swung Excalbren without faith.

And yet—

He was still strong.

Faith or not, his strength remained.

“Demon King, more are coming.”

New giants emerged, converging on their position.

“It may be best to withdraw for now.”

It wasn’t that she thought Clay would lose. But she wanted him to rest, even briefly, to avoid overexerting that strength.

“Very well.”

His answer was flat. He turned, and Syltanaro leapt with him, retreating.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tia keeping pace.

Even though she was now unarmed, she showed no trace of panic. She looked only at Clay.

And so Syltanaro, alongside Tia, silently followed the man’s back.

♧

“Shouldn’t you go to him?”

Outside the Imperial Palace.

Beatrice asked the question quietly as she stood with Naiad, waiting.

“...Clay entrusted you to me.”

Naiad’s gaze never left the palace.

“So I must remain here.”

“I see.”

Beatrice looked around. The Demon King’s Army was nowhere nearby; their commanders must have pulled them farther back.

“Naiad.”

Beatrice spoke again.

“What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“The relationship between Clay and Tia.”

At that, Naiad fell silent. After a moment, she turned to meet Beatrice’s eyes.

“It’s like a shattered orb.”

Her voice was quiet.

“So fractured that even if you tried to piece it back together, too many shards are already gone.”

“And yet you’d leave them together?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Naiad’s tone sharpened.

“No matter how much he hates her, Tia isn’t someone Clay can dispose of lightly. Put them side by side, and Clay may become even more unstable.”

“I know that well enough.”

Beatrice answered calmly, as if such concerns didn’t trouble her in the slightest.

“On the contrary, the more unstable he becomes, the more Clay will lean on me. On no one else—only me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When that time comes, all I need to do is embrace him. That’s hardly difficult.”

“Unbelievable.” Naiad sighed, “You’re not sane either.”

“And you are?”

“I won’t pretend I am.”

When she had left the home of the spirits and faced the unexpected, Naiad had chosen to believe everything Clay said. And now, everything she saw and judged was based upon that belief.

It was far from how a spirit ought to see the world. But Naiad did not deny herself.

“I’ve always lived this way.”

She spoke plainly.

“When I have something precious, I live only for that.”

“And right now, that something is Clay.”

“Yes.”

That was why Naiad could discard all other emotions for his sake.

“For me, Clay comes first.”

Naiad looked directly at Beatrice.

“If you feel the same, then so be it.”

Beatrice smiled gently at her words.

“Thank you. But remember—I was Clay’s first.”

“What?”

Naiad scowled deeply.

Thoom!

The ground rumbled. It wasn’t the first tremor, but this one was different.

Sssshhh—

The great magic circles carved even beyond the palace were vanishing.

“...!”

Beatrice and Naiad’s eyes widened at once.

It didn’t take long.

The magic circles had all disappeared.

“Naiad.”

Beatrice’s voice called to her. Her body was still weak, unable to recover after lending Clay her strength. The meaning behind her calling Naiad’s name was clear.

“Stay here a moment.”

Clay had asked it of her, but knowing the circles had vanished, she couldn’t just sit idly by. The greatest threat was gone—Clay would understand if she left her post briefly.

Kwooooooom!

But Naiad never even reached the palace. Explosions erupted inside before she could.

“Clay!”

She cried instinctively, summoning torrents of water to hold up the collapsing entrance.

And at that exact moment, Clay appeared. He was running toward her with Tia and Syltanaro at his side.

“Here!”

At her shout, Clay’s group sprinted through the falling debris and escaped the palace.

Kwooom!

The instant they cleared it, Naiad released her strength. The palace entrance collapsed completely.

“Clay! Are you—”

Her face lit up with relief—only for Clay to suddenly turn back, sword in hand, and swing several times.

Boom! Kwooom!

Blades of energy slashed the palace again and again, each strike exploding in thunderous force.

“Huh?”

Naiad blinked. She had thought the destruction was fallout from the vanished magic circles. But it was Clay who had struck the final blows.

Rumble—!

The palace caved in entirely. Turning his back on the ruin, Clay leapt, scooping Naiad up before landing before Beatrice.

“You alright?”

He opened his hand, setting her down. For a moment she just stared blankly at him, then scrambled upright.

“You scared me!”

She jabbed a finger at him.

“You were the one who brought the whole place down?”

“I had to collapse the facility inside.”

There had been a passage feeding more brainwashed giants into the field. Bringing it down with the palace had been the simplest answer.

“Still! You really startled me!”

Even knowing he could have forced his way out regardless, Naiad puffed herself up, exaggerating her role.

Beatrice, watching, cut in.

“Naiad, that isn’t what matters.”

“What?”

“Clay.”

Ignoring Naiad’s protest, Beatrice fixed her gaze on him.

“That sword.”

She pointed.

“Excalbren.”

“Ah—!” Naiad gasped, “That’s the Holy Sword!”

It was the weapon that had once rejected Clay when he became Demon King. It should have been impossible for him to wield it again.

“...”

Clay gave no answer. Naiad turned, seeking an explanation from his companions.

Her eyes went first to Tia, then awkwardly shifted to Syltanaro instead.

“Why is Clay using that instead of you?”

“The Demon King’s body...”

Syltanaro’s face was grim.

“...has changed.”

“Changed?”

Naiad blinked, baffled.

Beatrice stepped closer, directing her question to Tia, who had so far been silent.

“You reforged that sword so you could wield it, didn’t you? Isn’t that right?”

“...Yes.”

“I know you even suppressed Excalbren’s soul. But the source of its power hasn’t changed, has it?”

Not Magia.

But holy power.

“Clay.”

Beatrice’s eyes returned to him.

“The power you wield with that sword... it isn’t Magia, is it?”

Her voice was solemn, yet edged with unease.

“Whose power are you using?”

(End of Chapter)