Isn't This Pretty?
The Demon Kings had gathered in one place, chattering away about their club activities.
“…Ah.”
Marmar suddenly let out a soft gasp, and the others fell silent at once, turning to look at her.
“What’s wrong, Mar?”
“Something happen?”
“…Mar?”
Even after the three Demon Kings asked, Marmar gave no answer for a long while. She simply stared blankly out the window at the night sky, as if her mind were somewhere else entirely.
Astaroth, Sitri, and El all waited quietly. They already knew. When Marmar reacted like this, it meant only one thing: an enemy. Or rather—a collectible.
“It seems they’ve finally arrived.”
“Oh?! Finally?!”
“Took them long enough.”
“…Lazy.”
The ones they had left half-alive on purpose, half out of necessity. They could have hunted them all down and finished them off, but they had put the task off so they could hurry to the Academy and see Lethe first.
And now those things had come here. Graciously enough, not just one or two—quite a number of them.
“How many? Over a hundred, right? Ah, please. Tell me it’s over a hundred. Anything less and it’s no fun!”
“Roughly… mm, that many, I suppose.”
“That’s all? Mar. Doesn’t the number feel a little low to you?”
“I find it strange as well, but that’s the end of it, Sitri. There are no more.”
“Looks like these bastards are being a pain and splitting their forces.”
While Astaroth clasped her hands and begged for a high body count, Sitri grumbled about the inconvenience. El, for her part, didn’t particularly care either way.
As for Marmar… if she had to pick a side, she was closer to Astaroth’s.
Wonderful. I was just feeling a little disappointed that I hadn’t been able to collect anything lately.
She wanted to hold those glittering things in her hands again after so long. Academy life was pleasant enough in its own way, but nothing excited her quite like that sensation.
She wanted to feel once more the vigorous, fluttering movement, the eye-stealing crimson color, filling both her hands to overflowing!
In truth, that had been her greatest worry. After coming to the Academy, what was she supposed to do about her lingering attachment to her collection? Trying to take them here would mean going directly against Lethe’s wishes.
Being hated by Lethe. Being pushed away from him. For Marmar, those were things she truly could not bear to imagine.
He had not merely saved her life. He was the man who had let her witness that beautiful sight with her own eyes. The one who had taught a girl who knew nothing the true value of the most beautiful, most precious collectibles of all.
She could not allow herself to drift away from him. So she had endured. That was why she had come this far.
And now some thoroughly unpleasant creatures had come looking for them at the Academy. The truly fortunate part was that even these bothersome flies, if properly taken apart, could still yield reasonably decent collectibles.
Compared to the previous Demon Kings, the quality would be considerably lower—and that was a shame—but there was nothing to be done about it. For now, she would simply have to be grateful for what she could get.
“I’ll handle the ones coming from the west.”
“Then I’ll take the rest! Me! Eheheheh! Yes!! Finally, head-harvesting time!!”
“I’ll wait here with El. If any of the students here get hurt, Master would be put in a difficult position.”
“Lethe… in a difficult position? No. Absolutely not.”
Sssss—
For just a moment, blood seemed to well in El’s orange eyes. Seeing that, Astaroth panicked and started frantically talking her down. “No! El! That’ll never happen! It won’t! I promise!”
Was she afraid El’s “true form” might appear? Hardly. Astaroth simply hated the idea of losing her share of heads. With more than half already being stolen by Marmar, losing any more would leave her craving unsatisfied and unable to properly vent this desire.
Clap!—
Marmar clapped her hands once, pulling their scattered focus back together.
“Now then. Let’s move before it’s too late. When Oraboni arrives, we must show him how splendidly we performed—how magnificent we were.”
And so the Demon Kings parted ways. Marmar met the demons at the place where she had been waiting.
She was so delighted she hardly knew what to do with herself—her precious collectibles had come walking right up to her on their own feet—when—
“…Huh?”
“Ah?”
She found herself face-to-face with a Hero who had the exact same jet-black hair as her own.
A Demon King! There was no doubt. That black hair and those red eyes were burned clearly into her memory. And the thoroughly ominous auras of every kind pouring out from around her!
This is bad. I made a mistake.
Hero though she was, Selaphy herself specialized purely in rear support and assistance. It wasn’t that she had no combat ability at all, but coldly speaking, she could hardly call it outstanding.
And yet standing before her now were countless demons and a Demon King. In this situation, even holding out until reinforcements arrived would clearly be difficult.
Should she have turned back and brought Michaela—or at the very least Meta? She didn’t want to die like this. There were still so many cigarettes she hadn’t smoked and so much alcohol she hadn’t tasted.
No matter how she tried to imagine a way out, she couldn’t picture anything except her own death.
What if she broke away even now? If she turned her back right away, she might buy a few more minutes, and maybe someone would come to help her?
…No. No.
That was a cowardly thought. At the very least, she must not do that. If she had been called by that name—Hero—then she had to remain a Hero until the very moment she died.
Selaphy shook her head and began gathering pure white energy in both hands.
Holy power. Similar to mana, yet a force that only those permitted by the will of certain gods could wield.
It was exceptionally effective against demons, and against those suffering from wounds. It was the single greatest reason Selaphy could stand as a Hero at all.
“Um, excuse me?”
Just then, the black-haired Demon King made a slightly troubled face and spoke to her.
At the sight, Selaphy spat once in disgust and immediately unleashed her attack toward her.
Shaaaaa!—
“Kgh!? That pure white light! It’s holy power!”
“G-get back! Kyaaaa!—”
Right in front of the Demon King and the demons, pure white lights ignited all at once and became a flash.
For a brief moment they dyed the darkened world in brilliant light, then gradually subsided.
“Guhhh!—”
“Kieeek!—”
Demons writhed as if their entire bodies had been burned. They were the lucky ones. Some had their flesh melted into grotesque shapes, and a few had been reduced entirely to black ash.
This was precisely why Selaphy, despite not belonging to the Church, was called a “Saint”—why, though her physical combat ability was lacking, she could still stand proudly as a Hero in terms of overall power.
Seeing that her attack had landed properly, Selaphy smiled for a moment. But that smile vanished in less than a minute.
Damn it…
Sssss—
As the light faded and darkness returned, the Demon King beyond it looked completely unharmed. Far from taking damage like the other demons, she showed not even the slightest sign of a burn.
Whether she had simply tanked it with her body or offset the impact with magic, one thing was certain: she was no easy opponent.
“Haaa…”
Her turn was over. Now it was the Demon King’s turn. What she had to do now was prepare so that she could endure at least once, no matter what form of attack came flying at her.
That way, when reinforcements arrived, they would have even a slightly easier time dealing with the Demon King—
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
—except… wait a second. Why was the Demon King stamping her feet instead of attacking? And what was that thoroughly aggrieved expression filling her face?
“They were all mine! They all had to be mine!”
“What are you talking about…”
Selaphy cut herself off and once again bristled with wariness toward the Demon King. Hadn’t she just said “mine”? Perhaps she was showing rage at the one who had wiped out her subordinates in a single blow.
The moment that thought crossed her mind, anger and revulsion—emotions a Hero was perhaps inevitably bound to feel—reared their heads inside her.
“Disgusting. How dare you open that filthy mouth.”
In front of Lethe, in front of her war hero, she had wagged her tail calling him her savior—and now she had the gall to stab him in the back by summoning every last demon to the Academy?
Yes. That was it. The Demon Kings had come here first, falsely proposing peace and clouding everyone’s eyes and ears. Then their subordinates had snuck in to turn this place—far more vulnerable than the borders—into a sea of fire.
Because it was a place where demons could freely indulge in the slaughter they loved most. Because there were far more people who could not resist, who could not fight, than those who could!
“As expected, demons are…”
“Because of you, half of my precious collectibles are gone!”
“I can’t believe… believe… Wait, what did you just…”
Kyaaaa!—
Kyaaak!—
Before Selaphy and the Demon King’s conversation could even finish, the demons let out howls and charged. Selaphy hurriedly tried to intercept them with holy power.
Huh?
That was before she realized their target was not her, but the black-haired Demon King standing opposite her.
Why would demons leave a Hero—a human—alone and attack their own Demon King? Why did that Demon King not pay them the slightest attention? And…
“If you burn them like that, I can’t take them out nicely.”
And just when, exactly, had pitch-black holes been punched through the chests of all those many demons?
Thud!—
The demons who had been charging the Demon King collapsed almost simultaneously where they stood. Eyes open, mouths hanging. As if they hadn’t even known what kind of death had been dealt to them.
“W-what in the world…”
“Look at this.”
While Selaphy stood flustered and at a loss, the black-haired Demon King—Marmar—smiled brightly and held out before her the collectible she treasured most of all.
“I took it out so prettily, didn’t I?”
Thump-thump—
What she held in her hand was a bright red heart that seemed not even to know it had been removed from its body.