Sealed Bellante
Bellante, the frontline city closest to the Demon Realm. Surprisingly, it had gone without invasion for so long that people were starting to flock there. With kingdom regulars, noble private troops, mercenaries, and adventurers all gathering, it had naturally become a hub of activity. Demand surged, supply couldn't keep up, and savvy merchants quickly filled the gaps. People needed places to eat, so restaurants sprang up; they needed beds, so inns followed. As the population grew, soldiers were needed to maintain order and security. This cycle swelled the city into something massive.
Even with lingering unease—the faint what if—they brushed it off with a casual it won't happen, laughing heartily as they raised their glasses. They even mocked the Demon Realm as outdated relics, sucking up taxes while carousing on the spot. And occasionally, as Bellante's population boomed and land grew scarce, they began encroaching on Demon Realm territory. As long as they didn't venture too deep, it was fine—and before long, those lands became human domain. It was the first step in expanding their territory.
But they had grown numb to the long peace. Magic beasts weren't coming anyway. Demons weren't attacking anyway. Maybe that's why most of the soldiers now stood frozen, unable to hide their shock at the crisis unfolding before them.
It was only natural. The soldiers who could snap into combat stance at the sight of demons or magic beasts had all followed the hero to their deaths.
"Everyone, stay calm! They're wolf-like magic beasts—we can't scatter!"
He barely managed to shout it. Not as commoner Verilrude Anemos, but as Hero Verilrude Anemos. All eyes turned to him in an instant. The sudden flood of gazes choked the breath from his lungs, but even now, the beasts were slamming into buildings and chasing humans. If this continued, a massacre was inevitable.
The silver lining? A few among them recognized his face and signaled discreetly to vouch for him. That's why his words carried weight here.
"Units nearby, group up! Even with strangers—it doesn't matter! We need to combine our strength now!"
He yelled frantically. Some regained their senses at his command, gripping their weapons and rallying—while others, tragically isolated before joining, were torn apart by the beasts before his eyes.
"Gaaahhh!"
Fresh hatred sprouted within him. From the start, weren't humans driven to frenzy against demons because those monsters tore people apart?
"Save meee!"
"I don't want to die..."
Screams cut off one by one, signaling lives snuffed out. As those cries echoed from all directions, as the beasts ravaged homes and devoured merchants and innocents, the soldiers' faces darkened.
How did it come to this?
Even charging in to slay beasts himself, what he could do alone was limited. That's why, during the Demon King subjugation, he'd used soldiers as shields against magic beasts. But now, watching them die in droves and panic, there was no relying on anyone. He had to charge.
At least he had the abilities that made him who he was now—the hero. Even with 20% of his mana stolen, 80% remained. A blessing.
Thinking of mana stirred something nagging. A guy who didn't know a lick of magic suddenly shifts demeanor, steals mana with a touch, snaps his fingers for spells—is it even the same person?
Once doubt took root, it spread. Not the blind hatred of before. Questions piled on questions. Did she really lose her memories? The Lobelia he'd first met, the one who'd convulsed under harsh treatment—he'd never seen this personality or behavior from her. And that defensive mechanism making her think she was the Demon King? No way.
No clear conclusion emerged—just vague ambiguity. But right now, saving the people before him came first.
He gripped a flying spear tight, hurled it, swung his sword, repeat. When he came to his senses, time had passed. Too many beasts; too much left unsolved. He'd slain beasts but failed to save people. Most buildings lay in rubble, most folk reduced to bloody lumps. Limbs severed, guts strewn, heads frozen in agony rolling about. Horrific carnage.
He'd tried to save even one, but civilians were all dead, soldiers slain in battle. Bellante alone bore the devastation, on a scale too vast for words. How could this be fixed?
More than that—what was Lobelia Yuris? He should hate her, but she didn't match the Lobelia he knew, nor the one who'd named herself as such. He could only groan in agony.
"Damn it."
Nothing went his way. No clue what had happened.
*
She pondered long in the black void. No sense of time here, which somehow allowed even more thoughts. Going out terrified her. But staying meant losing her body soon—death inevitable.
She'd thought death fine, but when it loomed, human hearts shifted. Should I go out?
—Don't.
Let's go.
—Don't you dare!
A growling voice interrupted her turmoil, pale skin looming before her eyes. Crimson orbs glared sharply, promising instant death. But unable to act, some restraint held it back. Grateful for time to think, she wore a bitter smile.
Honestly, the hero scared her. Beds terrified her now, floors too. Yet she yearned to live.
Staying meant vanishing traceless. Anxiety stirred needless motion. She extended a hand with a wry smile from her slumped position.
Give it back. I'll be Lobelia Yuris now.
—I am Lobelia Yuris. You're just an intruder...!
Maybe. But... even so, since it's come to this, I want to live my way too. I endured the horrors. I want to live. I want to live.
That fierce resolve for life blazed—vision flared bright. Eyes opened to a familiar sight.
"...Demon King's Castle?"
Why here? Wondering if Lobelia had moved while unconscious, she scanned around. No hero traces. Realizing that, peace washed over her. Her lips curved up naturally.
Truth be told, first meeting Lobelia had terrified her, but now it seemed control was still hers. As long as she avoided coma or blackout, it stayed with her, right? Whatever this "seal" Lobelia mentioned, unbroken, the body was hers.
Did hijacking another's body to live feel wrong? It did. But after the fact, selfishness surged unbidden. Better dead and gone without regrets—but viable life changed everything.
So she stepped into the Demon King's Castle. Lobelia Yuris, free of the hero, living as Lobelia Yuris.
Entering brightly smiling, she greeted Kudbeka.
"Kudbeka! Long time no see...! I missed you!"
Memories of agony after parting from him flooded back. Unsure where to start, she clutched her swelling chest, trembling lips barely moving.
"I thought you were dead, sob. But you're okay—thank goodness."
Recalling the day she first saw the hero.
"Kudbeka, the hero's scary. First thing, he asks where you are and snaps my horn! Look, it broke and hurt so bad I passed out."
She caressed the scarred right forehead, stump swollen blunt from the forcible break, looking odd. But now, it was all past talk. Time to vent pent-up grievances and pain.
Voice brightening, she continued.
"Right, I wake up and he keeps stuffing magic crap into mana-less me—neck stiff, wrists and ankles felt like they'd snap."
Remembering waking shackled in irons—collar, cuffs, chains. Wry smile, joking it off.
"Seriously, hero jumps me like a brute; hurt so bad, mind went blank."
She blanked out briefly. Realizing her frown from painful recall, she smoothed her face lest Kudbeka worry, waving it off. Baring jagged nails gnawed to points, she grinned.
"Ah, n-now it's fine. Oh, right. Craving magic beast meat after so long. Hero barely fed me—hungry days piled up, heh heh. Oh, and I ate my nails; they grew crooked. Cut 'em for me, Kudbeka?"
A groan escaped. Trauma lingered for normal life. Pushing through shivers, she spoke.
Beds and floors repulsed her a bit, but yielding fully to Lobelia? No. Even if that black space was sanctuary.
"F-for now, bed scares me. Got a blanket for the floor? You can have my bed."
…….
"Kudbeka?"
Chattering like a lark, heart lighter after spilling every gripe—then realizing no listener, she called his name in dazed despair.
"Kudbeka...?"
Kudbeka, expected in the castle, neither welcomed nor appeared.
"Kudbeka......"
Calling endlessly, she climbed stairs. Checked dining hall, storeroom, servants' quarters, her room. Only after scouring the mansion did denied reality hit.
"Where are you, Kudbeka..."
Tears flowed. Grateful to Lobelia for escape, but Kudbeka was gone. She'd arrived alone in this vast place.
"Kudbeka... hic."
She crumpled in the hall, curling tight. Only her low voice echoed softly.
"...Kudbeka. Eugh, urk!"
Hero's revulsion surged as nausea. But even now, no Kudbeka to pat her back.
"Urk, blegh."
Nothing to vomit, yet heaving. Resentful that Kudbeka didn't come as his mistress suffered.
"Hic, sob! Kudbeka... where are you..."
She wailed desperately for Kudbeka, denying his absence.