The Tenth Resurrection
The tenth resurrection. A thousand years had passed. The Resurrection Temple stood in perfect silence, a hollow cavern devoid of any trace of life. It was impossible to imagine that this had once been the site of countless clashes, where human armies armed with magical-industrial weapons had gathered in force to prevent the Demon Lord’s return. Though the Demon Lord’s body had been vulnerable during resurrection, the concentrated barrage that had once been powerful enough to blast her apart should have reduced the temple to rubble. Yet the Resurrection Temple, a place shaped by the will of the world itself, remained untouched. The altar and every other structure stood as proud and untouched as ever.
Neromeltia opened her Dimensional Storage and retrieved her personal dress from within. The moment her hand reached for it, the garment wrapped itself around her body as though caressing her. The tight black fabric clung to her form, accentuating every curve of her beautiful figure. Two long strips of cloth rose from the center of each full breast, meeting at a skull-shaped ornament resting at her collarbone, then continued upward into a high, elegant collar that encircled her neck. It was a daring halterneck dress that left her shoulders and part of her chest bare, yet the exposure only heightened the noble elegance of her beauty. Her firm, toned abdomen was visible through a long, diamond-shaped cutout reminiscent of a playing card. The sides of the lower half were completely open, boldly displaying her supple thighs and long legs. The rear hem, narrow and flowing, swayed with every step, revealing the round silhouette of her hips without the slightest concealment. Thick, soft flesh pressed against the tops of her black leather boots, which reached just above the knee and hugged her legs tightly. She also wore aristocratic evening gloves, but like the dress itself they were thin and form-fitting, revealing the graceful lines of her arms.
This was Night Illusion, Neromeltia’s signature attire. It offered no magical protection or blessings, yet it would restore itself to its original state whenever she infused it with mana. Because she preferred close-quarters combat, her clothes were frequently torn or burned; this magical garment had been crafted by a friend so she could maintain her dignity. Created solely to uphold the Demon Lord’s prestige, the dress was undeniably alluring and beautiful, and its true value lay in how perfectly it showcased its wearer’s charm. Even though it was skin-tight, it had been tailored to Neromeltia’s exact measurements, fitting her without a single millimeter of error. Within the Demon Lord’s treasury it held an unrivaled position as the outfit that suited her best, becoming an image synonymous with her very existence.
Of course, Neromeltia herself had little interest in fashion. She favored the dress simply because it restored itself with a mere infusion of mana and required no washing. “It’s been a long time,” she murmured.
She had worn an identical dress in the Underworld, but that had been nothing more than a replica woven from the spiritual power of souls. The soft, warm texture she now caressed was real, belonging to the living world. It had once been so familiar, yet after a thousand years the sensation stirred a wave of nostalgia. That comforting, reassuring feeling reminded her that she had truly returned.
Suppressing the surge of joy in her chest, Neromeltia stepped carefully out of the Resurrection Temple. She wondered why the human forces that had always camped here to stop her resurrection had allowed her to return so peacefully this time. The possibility of some unseen trap kept her on edge. Though she considered using spatial magic to leave immediately, she dismissed the idea for safety’s sake. A thousand years had passed; the terrain and landmarks of Terraris were almost certainly different from what she remembered. A miscalculated teleport could place her inside a building or mountain, and even a Demon Lord could be caught off guard by an ambush in such a moment. Gate magic like portals or warps carried no risk of collision, but the activation itself could be detected and invite an attack, so she rejected that option as well. In the end she chose to proceed on foot, ready to counter or defend at a moment’s notice, and walked calmly down the long corridor leading out of the temple.
A low rumble echoed as Neromeltia opened the hidden door of the Resurrection Temple and stepped outside. The magical door, which appeared to be nothing more than part of the cliff face from the outside, had opened automatically upon sensing her Luina mana. Since the humans lacked the power to destroy the Resurrection Temple itself, they had apparently been unable to break the door either. It still functioned normally, which meant the traitor within the Demon Lord’s army must have revealed even the method of opening it.
The temple’s exit faced the Red Ocean on the opposite side of the Demon Lord Castle from Barkus Volcano. The moment she stepped out, the surging crimson sea came into view. Anger toward the traitor who had taken everything from her and those who had brought ruin rose in her chest—until she noticed a swarm of flies rising violently into the air. A nauseating stench, like rotting flesh, washed over her.
Several corpses lay scattered not far from the hidden door. The ecosystem of Hemonigent was harsh, its atmosphere saturated with destructive Luina mana and its land and seas poisoned by countless metallic pollutants. The flies that had gathered on the bodies possessed jaws and teeth capable of attacking humans and were extremely aggressive. Feeling both revulsion and wariness, Neromeltia incinerated them all with a flame spell.
“Flame!”
A roaring wall of fire swept across the ground. As the crimson curtain passed, the flies fell, shrieking, their bellies up and legs curled, charred black. Neromeltia examined the corpses the swarm had been feeding on. Fifteen bodies in total, all human. Though the remains were mangled beyond recognition by the flies’ bites and swarming maggots, the cause of death was easy to determine: each had been pierced through by something hot and long, killed before they could even counterattack. Their equipment marked them as soldiers sent to stop the Demon Lord’s resurrection—far beyond the gear of ordinary guards or scouts. They carried massive mana-beam cannons that required two or three people to operate and powerful lightning cannons that converted the full output of high-grade mana stones into electrical blasts in an instant.
Yet the fact that only fifteen humans were present, when the temple had once been surrounded by an army large enough to fill it, was deeply unsettling. What had happened to Terraris during her absence? Neromeltia suddenly recalled how Iel deet Jiskil, the Grim Reaper of the Underworld, had treated her differently than usual. He must have known about this situation. As the omniscient God of Death, Iel possessed the authority to observe other dimensions freely. He had never shown much reaction to her resurrections because he had known she would return. He would have seen the human army camped at the Resurrection Temple as clearly as anything else. This time, with no army present, he had known she would succeed in resurrecting and that they would not meet again for a long while. Unable to speak of the living world to the dead because of the laws of the Underworld—even rules he himself had made—he had given her a farewell in his own way.
“That guy…! The banshees were smiling when they saw me off, so they must have known too. Why didn’t anyone tell the person it actually concerned?!”
If she had known in advance, she could have said a more stylish and heartfelt goodbye. The suddenness of their parting left her with a faint sense of regret. Iel had tried to send her off with words that would linger, yet she had only been flustered until the very end. As a friend, it felt a little cruel.
Finishing her reminiscence, Neromeltia began to wonder why the human army had been absent from the Resurrection Temple and why only fifteen corpses lay outside. As she looked around, she realized the surrounding environment was completely different from the Hemonigent she remembered. A deep unease began to grow within her—had the world itself perished?