At some point, time began to slow for Clay.

This is…

From the start—Athanasia had placed her hands on his back as he sat on the floor. She poured her power into his body.

Her power sought to take control of him, and he allowed it. Then, as if embroidering within his body, she began to weave something with divine power.

It was a sigil—complex, almost impossible to describe in words. The design slowly expanded, taking on form.

Like a honeycomb.

“Clay, pour your divine power and magia into this—half and half,” Athanasia instructed.

Clay slowly channeled divine power and magia into it.

“—!”

A sharp jolt of pain made him hunch forward, but Athanasia pulled him upright again.

“Even if it hurts, don’t move. Keep going like this.”

It wasn’t an easy request, but Clay resisted the urge to bend forward again.

He gritted his teeth and focused on feeding the honeycomb power. Inside, the unconverted divine energy and magia clashed violently.

“Just a little longer. Hold on.”

It felt like the tiny chambers of the honeycomb were bursting one after another—waves of pain that forced groans from him.

“A bit more.”

She kept speaking, as if to assure him she knew exactly what he was enduring.

“It’s fine. Just a bit more.”

By the time blood welled from his bitten lip—

“That’s it!” she shouted.

“Now, just keep it steady!”

The divine power and magia within the honeycomb began to blend. Like oil and water, they resisted invading each other’s domain—but the honeycomb forced them into constant circulation, as if they shared the same space.

“Ghhhaaaa!”

Clay could no longer hold back his cry.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

—Lord Clay?!

—Your Majesty, are you all right?!

They pounded on the door from outside, but he clenched his fist so tightly his palm nearly split, and barked,

“Don’t come in!”

He could feel it. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

Forces that should never mix were adapting to each other.

The clashes quieted, a delicate balance forming inside the honeycomb without either power repelling the other.

“Clay,” Athanasia said, “The last part will hurt the most.”

A belated confession.

“If you can’t endure it, you might die.”

“What?”

“But I’m doing this because I believe you will.”

She asked, “Shall we?”

The honeycomb now held the two forces in balance. Her next step was to implant it whole—like grafting a new organ.

“Do it.”

No other answer was needed. Without risking that much, he couldn’t trust the result.

At his reply, Athanasia exhaled deeply, then moved her hands gently across his back.

“Here we go.”

As the designer willed, so it would be done—

“Endure.”

Her hands traced a straight line down his back.

Click!

The honeycomb locked into place inside his body, flooding him with an overwhelming, burning pain.

“Ghhkk!”

This was agony on an entirely different level.

Was it real heat from the honeycomb, or just an illusion? He couldn’t tell. And then—

Tick.

Something snapped, and his consciousness grew hazy.

What…?

He was sitting atop a patch of grass. Looking around, he glanced down at his hands.

Small. He rose and walked to a nearby pool of water. Seeing his reflection, Clay let out a long sigh.

It was his childhood self.

A breeze ruffled his hair. The emotion it stirred was not confusion, but peace. As if everything that had happened until now was just a dream, and he was back to the carefree days of his youth.

He smiled faintly—but it faded.

No. This wasn’t reality. The moment he realized it, he felt a tightening at his neck.

Ghhk!

The execution ground.

This time, he was hanging by the neck, staring forward. In front of him stood Yelena, Nael, and Yuru.

His heart pounded wildly. Could it be that becoming the Demon King was all a lie, and he had only just regained consciousness on the gallows? He thrashed desperately—then froze.

His gaze shifted to the side. There she was—Tia de Mezelef, his childhood friend.

She stared at him with a vacant expression. He, too, stared blankly back.

How had it come to this?

He had never lived in darkness. He had never been the Demon King’s lackey, never driven people into despair.

Yet he had been punished.

That punishment had darkened him, filled him with hatred, and turned him destructive. As a Hero, he had always lived to save others—yet now there was no one to save him.

There was no salvation for him.

“Ah…”

The moment he understood that, everything felt meaningless. Pointless. The peaceful feelings from that grassy hillside faded away.

No peace remained for him.

“Ghhhhh…”

Clenching his fists, he shut his eyes. He saw nothing now—only felt something deep within himself.

Anger? No… it was—

Yearning.

“Raaaaaaghhh!”

A longing born from the fact that he could not save himself—an unquenchable thirst for the peace he could never again have.

Crash!

It shattered like breaking glass—Clay’s vision burst apart. Though he was sure he had just closed his eyes, they were now open again.

And the first thing he saw was—

“Athanasia?”

She was behind him, pressing along his meridians.

“You’re awake.”

Now standing in front of him, Athanasia let out a sigh.

“So you didn’t die.”

Only then did Clay realize he wasn’t in a normal state.

His entire body was drenched, cold sweat soaking his skin until it chilled him to the bone.

“The result?”

That was what mattered most.

At his question, she opened her mouth—

♧

“Th-the Demon King’s Army is…”

“They’re really here.”

“Are we truly letting them in?”

Those who saw the Demon King’s Army enter Yaphenon’s capital murmured in shock, stepping back.

Led by Beatrice soaring overhead, goblins, orcs, trolls, and other monstrous figures marched in formation, their numbers vast enough to be called an army.

The sight was utterly alien—at a glance, it could easily be mistaken for an invasion meant to raze the city.

“They’re… not destroying anything?”

Contrary to fearful expectations, the Demon King’s Army walked in orderly ranks. Though many of the beast-like creatures roared and bellowed, frightening the populace, no slaughter or destruction followed. The citizens stood frozen, dazed by the surreal procession.

『So everyone came out to greet us, I see.』

From above, Beatrice’s gaze swept over the streets.

『But the one I should be seeing… isn’t here.』

Her eyes roamed far and wide.

『Hmph.』

Surely someone had gone to inform him of their arrival. Yet the master of the Demon King’s Army hadn’t appeared. Beatrice frowned.

『He’s not the type to simply not care.』

Given his nature, he was probably occupied with something even as the army approached. He never wasted time.

『Still…』

Someone of rank should have come to meet her. But only commoners and soldiers were in sight—no superior officers.

Fwoosh!

Beatrice dropped swiftly from the sky, and the crowd scattered in panic.

Thud!

But their fear was needless. In human form, she landed lightly on the ground. Soldiers instinctively raised their weapons, trembling.

“Here, we—”

“Relax. Nothing like that will happen,” Beatrice said, glancing at the nearest soldier.

“More importantly, I need a guide.”

“A… guide?”

“Yes. I’ll be going into the royal palace.”

A faint smile curved her lips.

“Who will volunteer?”

♧

“This way…”

The soldier guiding her turned out to be a low-ranking one.

Rather slow-witted, Beatrice thought.

Fear had kept the others from stepping forward, leaving the lowest to take the task. But to escort the Demon King’s strongest general to the palace with such poor form—it was absurd.

Well… I won’t make an issue of it now.

What mattered was Clay’s current state.

Hopefully nothing’s gone wrong while I was away.

If the army’s mobilization was connected to his safety, she couldn’t help but worry.

“Lord Neville!”

The guide’s task ended as the soldier called to someone standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Lady Beatrice?”

It was none other than the crown prince of Krata. Upon seeing her, Neville hurried over.

“You’ve arrived.”

“Yes.” Beatrice sighed, “Though I can’t say I felt very welcomed.”

“My apologies,” Neville replied awkwardly, “I had planned to escort Lord Clay to meet you, but—”

“Speaking of which, where is Clay? He’s not the type to ignore my arrival.”

“He’s in his room.”

Her eyes shifted again, spotting a familiar face behind Neville.

“Lady Beatrice.”

“Syltanaro.”

Beatrice looked to her and asked once more,

“What’s Clay doing shut away in there?”

“He’s in the middle of creating something called a Coexistence Form.”

“Coexistence Form?”

Even Beatrice had never heard the term before.

“And Athanasia isn’t in sight… don’t tell me—”

“Yes,” Syltanaro confirmed, “She’s implanting it into Lord Clay’s body as we speak.”

“I hope it’s not dangerous…”

Beatrice stepped toward the door, concern on her face. At that moment, a head poked out from her hair—Naiad.

“What—so we’ve arrived? Huh?”

Having dozed off, she now blinked wide-eyed at the change in scenery.

“Huh? We’re inside the palace? Where’s Clay?”

“He asked Athanasia to create this Coexistence Form for him.”

Standing before the door where Clay was, Beatrice’s expression hardened.

“Just the name sounds dubious. I’ll have to check on him right—”

Boooom!

A massive blast from within the room made everyone in the corridor startle in alarm.

“Clay!”

Beatrice flung the door open.

(End of Chapter)

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