They Ran Into Each Other
Deep in the mountains, far—very far—from the Academy, there lay a vast cavern.
Only a few years ago the place had stood empty. Now it served as the hideout of the so-called “Restoration Army.”
“At last! At last the time has come! The perfect opportunity is here!”
“With this, our flames will blaze once more!”
The “restoration” they spoke of had nothing to do with reviving any particular faction or kingdom.
Only fire. A greater, crueler fire of war. That was all they wished to kindle.
If they could achieve it, they would gladly dance with joy even as they themselves became the kindling.
“All four Demon Kings have left this place and headed for the Empire. They walked straight into that Academy of their own free will. Now that it’s come to this, our task is simple. Turn that place into a sea of flames, rekindle the hatred of humans, elves, and dwarves, and make them point their spears at us once again!!”
Some among them had argued for killing those “four Demon Kings” who had slaughtered the other Demon Kings under the pretext of stopping the war.
But how? How were they supposed to kill beings that even other Demon Kings could not handle?
More importantly, killing those women would snuff out the flames of war rather than fan them.
In that case, better to attack the place those four Demon Kings had entered—the place already buzzing with every kind of rumor.
If luck held and they slaughtered enough humans and burned the Academy to the ground, the Empire’s reaction would be inevitable.
They would kick aside the peace those detestable four Demon Kings had offered. They would cry out for war once more.
Even the bitches who claimed to love peace would have no choice but to fight once their own lives hung in the balance. And when that happened, the Restoration Army could finally escape this fugitive existence and once again taste the thrill of true war!
War! Never again anything but war! Only war! They craved that struggle of life itself, where blood and flesh flew freely!
“Use any means necessary. Smash that Academy to pieces.”
“Kill as many as you can, no matter how. More cruelly, more horrifically! So that humans, elves, and dwarves seize their spears and blades the moment they so much as hear the word ‘demon’!”
“No matter how much those four Demon Kings prattle about peace, it means nothing if the others refuse to accept it!”
Fortunately, the subordinates left behind by the Four Heavenly Kings were fully occupied watching for any spark of war that might touch their own territories or flare up inside demon lands. They had not the faintest idea what the Restoration Army was truly after.
There would never be a better chance. Human vigilance, after all, could be torn down the moment one put one’s mind to it.
Once the decision was made, the demons moved without the slightest hesitation.
A few decoys stirred up a war-mongering atmosphere while the Demon Kings were away; meanwhile the carefully selected elites slipped across the border and infiltrated deep into the Empire.
Suppressing the urge to slaughter every human they passed along the way had been pure torment.
So many lives dangling right there, ready to fall at a mere stretch of the hand—so many throats ready to scream—and yet they had to slip past in silence.
It was unfair. Why had war been stolen from them? Those Demon Kings—why? You’re demons too. Don’t you possess souls that can never be free of battle?
You claim you don’t want to fight, yet the method you used was just another kind of fighting—so why snatch the fighting away from us!
“Damn it! Humans over there! Elves! Dwarves!!”
“Keep your heads on straight, all of you. The ceasefire and the peace talks are already finished. Tossing a few embers here won’t reignite the great blaze.”
“Remember this. We must start the trouble where those four Demon Kings are. Only then will the Empire’s arrows turn on them. The elves and dwarves will ride that current as well. Otherwise the great war we want will never return!”
They wanted to fight. They wanted war. They wanted to feel that rapture where life and death traded places!
Clinging to that single obsession, the demons endured and endured until at last they reached the outskirts of the Academy.
Pathetic. The moment they declared the war over, their defenses had grown this lax. An ending only truly arrived when one side was completely erased from the world—yet here they were, drunk on words like “ceasefire” and “peace,” their vigilance worse than nonexistent!
Humans really did need to die. All they excelled at was screaming and stabbing their own comrades in the back—but the pleasure of killing them was still excellent, so it all evened out!
“There it is. Listen carefully. That is our target—the Academy. Kill everything inside it today. And shout it loud: all of this is by order of the Demon Kings!”
“Move! Because of us, our kin will gain more battles, more blood!”
Shasha-sha!—
Even at the height of the war, the Academy had never once allowed a demon intrusion.
Guards stood watch around the clock, but the magical barrier had always been the true linchpin—designed so that any external breach would be detected instantly.
Today, however, that barrier was gone. Not long ago someone had fired the Hell Decapitating Sword and split it clean in two.
Imperial mages had rushed to redesign it, but the thing had been shattered into fragments; more time would be needed.
Into that fleeting gap the demons slipped—pure coincidence, yet perfect timing.
One by one, shadows leapt inside the Academy grounds. Their numbers steadily grew.
When the last of them finally set foot on solid earth, they began the final roll call.
“Team One!”
“All members infiltrated!”
“Team Two!”
“All members infiltrated!”
“Team Three!”
“All members infiltrated!”
Everyone was in. Success. With dozens of demons, torching a place like this would be child’s play.
“Good. From this moment we move according to plan! First—”
“All right. From this moment we can proceed according to plan.”
A calm voice laced with quiet laughter drifted out of the pitch-black darkness beyond.
The black-haired Demon King who had been waiting for them with bated breath—wondering just when they would arrive—could barely contain her delight at the sudden increase in her newest collection pieces.
Hooo—
White smoke streamed steadily from her lips. In her hand she held a hip flask.
She took another long drag on the cigarette, then tipped the flask and let the whiskey inside slide down her throat in one smooth pull.
Nicotine and alcohol. How beautiful, how magnificent. Surely these were gifts the gods themselves had bestowed upon humanity. Praising that heavenly pairing, the Saint—Selaphy—smiled.
Nice. No more nags around to lecture me.
Ever since she had been chosen as a Hero, how many times had she been told she must never smoke or drink?
The duty of fighting demons hadn’t particularly bothered her, but whenever they insisted she set an example and therefore abstain from alcohol and tobacco, she had sincerely wanted to quit this whole “Hero” nonsense on the spot.
Fighting was fighting—why ban booze and smokes? She’d heard that both enlisted soldiers and officers did one or the other, or both.
Because she was a Hero it was forbidden? What kind of rule was that! Telling a Hero she couldn’t drink or smoke!
Then one day a man who had come looking for them tilted his head and said:
“Alcohol and cigarettes? As long as it doesn’t seriously hinder you or your party, isn’t that your own business?”
He had tilted his head as if he genuinely couldn’t understand the fuss, and taken Selaphy’s side.
The people around them had scrambled in panic, trying to change his mind.
“But a Hero must set an example for others, so…”
“Heroes aren’t non-human. Give it a rest. Seriously.”
“Ah—understood, Sir Lethe.”
Only later did she learn he was that famous war hero—the senior who had fought earlier, harder, and more desperately than any of them.
Thanks to him, no one seriously stopped her from smoking or drinking. The lectures never completely vanished, of course, but with Lethe’s presence in the background, no one dared touch her personal preferences.
In that sense, Lethe could be called her benefactor. To Selaphy, alcohol and tobacco were as vital as soul and body.
He had helped her in many other ways as well, though he himself seemed largely unaware of it, so she let the matter slide.
…But what’s all this commotion?
Not far away, a large number of heavy, dense presences were moving—far too many and far too heavy to belong to students.
No mistake. Something thick and intense was mixed in. This felt exactly like—
No way. It can’t be.
Cigarette still clenched between her lips, Selaphy started walking toward the source of those presences.
It was a remote corner of the Academy grounds, a place students almost never visited. The suspicious aura calling to her filled exactly that kind of spot.
The closer she drew, the more suspicion hardened into certainty. Yes—this was that sensation.
Every muscle in her body pulled taut; her mana trembled in fine vibrations. Enemies. Enemies stood ahead.
Selaphy clicked her tongue and hurriedly snuffed out the cigarette. Still half left—what a waste—but there was no choice.
“….”
For a moment she hesitated. Should she turn around right now and alert Michaela, Haniel, Meta?
She was confident in her own skill, yet the enemy numbers were high; she couldn’t afford to be careless. Complacency was the shortest road to defeat—the easiest way to lose one’s life.
“Hoo—”
Yet instead of turning back, Selaphy chose to press forward.
If she retreated now, no one would be left to stop the enemies ahead. Once the noise started, everyone would notice something was wrong and come running. She only needed to hold out until then.
Moving carefully, Selaphy finally reached the place—
“…Huh?”
“Ah?”
—and found herself face-to-face with a black-haired Demon King standing before a throng of demons, her hair the same pure black as Selaphy’s own.