Liza knew her master hid many secrets, but what she was seeing now went far beyond anything she had imagined.
Before her, the blackened ground still exhaled smoke; dawn painted the ruins of the forest in shades of gray, and from among the shadows emerged two figures. One was tall, with ashen skin and crimson eyes that reflected an eternal fire. The other, a living corpse in a dark robe, whose gaze burned with violet flames.
The Black Demon and the Lich Zen.
There was no need for introductions, yet both bowed before Satoru with a reverence so deep and measured that even the air seemed to stop.
Liza couldn't understand. Those beings were known for their cruelty, for razing villages, for devouring the living just for pleasure… and yet, now they knelt with solemnity, their voices low and respectful.
"It is an honor to be summoned by you, my lord." The Black Demon spoke first, his voice deep and heavy, more like the rumble of stone than a human sound.
Zen followed with calm cadence, without the slightest arrogance one would expect from an undead.
"We shall obey your commands. From this moment, we are your servants in body and soul."
The contrast was so brutal that Liza unconsciously took a step back. Hans, however, didn't move. His eyes remained sharp, serene, without a trace of surprise.
Satoru observed them all without changing the rhythm of his breathing.
"I need to speak with them," he said simply, and his voice alone was enough to dissolve any lingering doubt. Then he looked at Hans and Liza.
"Handle the perimeter. The girls are still asleep—don't wake them. If the soldiers return, talk to them."
Liza nodded immediately. Hans merely lowered his head, as if receiving an order long expected.
Then Satoru turned toward Zen. Words weren't necessary. The lich understood instantly, stepped forward, and with a careful gesture, retrieved something from his personal space: a spear wrapped in a faint magical glow.
The aura it emitted was pure—devoid of darkness. A weapon forged to kill monsters… now resting in the hands of one.
"My lord has allowed me to offer this," Zen said, bowing slightly as he presented it. "A symbol of good faith, and of my desire to leave behind old wounds."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Liza hesitated before stepping closer. She didn't know whether she should accept it—if mere contact might curse her, or if this was some sort of test. But Satoru, without taking his eyes off the horizon, made a small motion with his hand. That alone was enough.
She extended her arms and took the spear. The wood was warm, as if it still remembered its former master's grip. Zen lowered his head, and the violet glow of his eyes dimmed briefly—a gesture of respect.
"Thank you," was all Liza managed to say.
Satoru watched her for a few more seconds before turning his gaze toward Hans. No words were exchanged—only that silent understanding that had long been enough between them. Hans nodded once. I'll handle it.
The Overlord then turned to his dark subordinates.
"Let's go."
The air warped. The shadows around them rippled like water stirred by the wind, and in a blink, Satoru, Zen, and the Black Demon vanished. There was no light or sound—only a lingering sensation, as if they had never been there.
Liza stood still, the spear still in her hands. The silence was dense, almost oppressive. For a moment she thought it had been an illusion, but the faint blue gleam on the weapon in her palm told her otherwise.
"…Hans."
Liza looked up, confused to hear her own voice tremble.
"Eh?"
The ninja had turned slightly, that unbreakable calm still on his face.
"My name is Hans."
The revelation caught her off guard. Not because the name itself was strange, but because it was the first time she had heard it from his own lips.
"I see…" she replied at last, almost by instinct, bowing lightly. "My name is Liza."
Hans nodded.
"I know."
A short pause followed. The air smelled of burnt earth and ash. Liza looked down at the spear she held, then back at the ninja.
"Thank you… for last night," she finally said, her tone softer. "For protecting the three of us."
Hans inclined his head slightly, with neither pride nor false modesty.
"I only fulfilled my duty."
The conversation seemed to end there. Both remained silent, listening to the distant whisper of wind through the charred trees. But Liza couldn't quiet her thoughts.
Her eyes drifted toward the place where Satoru had vanished with the other two, then back to Hans, who stood motionless, vigilant, as though none of what had happened surprised him.
He noticed.
"If you have questions," he said calmly, "you may ask them."
Liza looked at him, hesitant.
"I appreciate the offer, but… it's not my place. I'm his slave. I should only know what I'm told."
Hans tilted his head slightly, accepting the answer without argument.
"You're right. But this time, it isn't a secret."
His eyes, barely visible beneath the hood, turned toward the horizon.
"My lord is a necromancer—a practitioner of the dark arts."
Liza blinked. The words took a moment to settle in.
"So… that night…" she murmured, recalling the time when Satoru had faced Zen alone inside the Tower, returning afterward with impossible calm and that same distant gaze.
Hans said nothing.
She continued piecing things together. She remembered the Black Demon as well—or rather, his absence after the battle. The body had never been found. She had assumed it was reduced to ashes. Now she understood otherwise.
The air grew colder. Liza tightened her grip on the spear.
Hans watched her for a moment before speaking again.
"Both of them," he said evenly, "became subordinates after being defeated."
Liza stared at him, speechless. The revelation was too vast to absorb easily.
Sensing her confusion, Hans added,
"Don't be deceived by their obedience. They're still what they are—monsters."
Liza frowned.
"You mean they might rebel?"
Hans shook his head without hesitation.
"No, that's impossible. Both are completely under my lord's control." He raised a hand slightly, as if to downplay the concern. "What I mean is that you shouldn't forget they can still be used as monsters."
Liza looked at him, trying to understand.
"As monsters…?"
Hans nodded.
"Agents of chaos," he said simply. "Tools that can be unleashed if the master deems it necessary. If the enemy needs a demon, or a calamity to inspire fear… he already has one to send."
Silence stretched between them. Liza lowered her gaze, realizing all at once the true scope of that answer. The lich and the demon weren't allies, nor companions. They were weapons—pieces within their master's arsenal.
And by contrast… she was not.
For the first time, she realized that her place beside him—however low it might be—was something different.
Hans watched her for a while longer before speaking again, his tone calmer.
"In that sense… you stand above them."
Liza lifted her eyes, startled.
"Above them?"
"Yes," he said plainly.
No further explanation followed.
Liza nodded slowly, as one accepting a truth she couldn't yet fully grasp. The wind rustled faintly through the burned trees. Hans turned away, resuming his post.
Liza stood motionless for several seconds longer. She understood her master better now—but not completely.
Her thoughts remained tangled in Hans's words, in what she had seen, in what she still couldn't comprehend. She didn't even notice that her gaze had drifted far from the perimeter she was supposed to guard.
Hans noticed immediately, but said nothing.
He understood she needed time to process it all, and scolding her would have been pointless. In truth, the order to "stand watch" was little more than a formality. As long as he was there, no other eyes were needed.
Liza, despite her strength and discipline, was useless for that task—not from lack of skill, but because her talents lay elsewhere. She was a weapon, a close-range soldier, not a shadow meant to wait and observe. Hans knew that. He didn't think it cruelly; it was simply fact. That's why he neither stopped nor corrected her.
For a moment, he allowed himself a thought that once would have seemed absurd. In the past, he'd never have been this patient with her. He would've pointed out her mistake, imposed discipline, reminded her of hierarchy. But now… things were different.
Maybe it was because he had seen her hold their wounded master without hesitation, or because he'd felt the same quiet calm she had while watching him stand among the ruins. Whatever the reason, ignoring her was no longer an option.
He found himself thinking, in a way, that he felt like a veteran watching over an apprentice.
A senior who had the moral duty to guide his junior in a craft she didn't yet understand.
It wasn't a bad feeling.
With that simple conclusion, Hans returned to his task. The shadows shifted around him like extensions of his body, and the forest slowly fell silent once more.
***
The forest remained veiled beneath the illusionary mist.
The air was still, suspended between smoke and the lingering magic that bent the morning light. Satoru stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded by the remnants of the circles he had drawn throughout the morning. Around him, Zen and the Black Demon waited in silence.
The investigation had been long, but the conclusions were clear.
The seal that Akon Kagura had imposed upon him was not a simple spiritual mark—it was a divine lock, embedded directly into the magical structure of his human body.
The spell Satoru had created with [Wish Upon a Star]—the one that allowed him to alternate between his human body and his original form—functioned as a simple circuit: a line of energy that could be opened or closed with a single command.
Akon had blocked that circuit, placing an obstruction at the exact point where the flow was meant to pass.
A stone in the path.
The result was absolute. No matter how much energy he applied or how precisely he tried to force the command, the flow could not move. The connection between both forms was sealed.
But that wasn't the only effect.
The divine energy embedded within him didn't remain passive; it reacted to his mana as if the two were natural opposites.
The conflict was constant, invisible, yet real. His power sought to expel the holy energy, and that resistance drained his vitality in return.
That was why his HP and MP refused to regenerate.
It wasn't a capacity issue—it was a continuous struggle, a fragile balance between his essence and the interference that corroded it.
Akon hadn't just built a prison; she had turned his body into a battlefield.
Access to his inventory had also been sealed. Akon, as one of the creators of this world's system, possessed deep knowledge of how an inventory functioned. This interference was likely meant to prevent him from using the treasures stored in the Dragon Valley.
Testing different forms of energy had been useless. Even tenth-tier magic couldn't destroy the seal. The only option left was to deal with something stronger—or find a way to weaken the lock enough to shatter it.
Zen had contributed his expertise in the study of vital energy, drawn from his own pursuit of ending his immortality. Through his observations, he deduced that the divine energy distorted the surrounding mana, preventing its natural regeneration.
The Black Demon, meanwhile, had noticed that the divine presence wasn't static: each time Satoru released power, the seal reacted.
That reaction proved the lock wasn't perfect—that the mana flow still pressed against the obstruction.
Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, but constantly.
That was the key.
The seal was weakening. The process would take years, perhaps decades—but it was possible.
However, Satoru didn't have that kind of time.
That realization led him to recall something else: a fragment of knowledge native to this world—the existence of holy weapons created through alchemy.
He remembered that, during the journey to Muno, Satou had acquired the formula to craft them—a sort of "reward," born from good deeds and narrative convenience.
That information shifted his focus.
If holy weapons could be forged through alchemy, then divine energy could be understood, replicated, and manipulated by mortal means. He didn't need to fight divinity—he needed to comprehend it.
Alchemy was the most logical answer. Not as a means of creation, but as an instrument of analysis. Through it, he could study the structure of sacred power, and if he managed to isolate its active principle, he might find a way to destabilize the seal—or at least open a crack.
The forest fell silent once more. The glowing marks on the ground faded one by one, leaving only traces of the work.
Satoru raised his hand and wrote a list in the air: metals, magic crystals, alchemical reagents, refining tools. It wouldn't be enough to break the seal, but it would suffice to begin the necessary experiments.
"Deliver this to Hans," he ordered the Black Demon. "He'll hand it to the soldiers. There's no limit on payment."
The demon took the note and bowed deeply.
"It will be done, my lord."
The figure vanished into the illusory mist.
Satoru remained silent. He knew the divine energy would continue to resist, that the conflict within him wouldn't cease.
But now he had direction.
Akon had locked his body with a divine mechanism—and Satoru intended to break it with mortal science.
***
The sun hung high now, filtering weakly through the charred branches of the forest. The damp ground mixed with the scent of ash, giving the air a strange weight. Liza stood near the two girls, bending slightly to check their breathing. Around her, there was no trace of Satoru or the other two; since they had vanished into the shadows, Hans had assured her they were concealed beneath an illusion—beyond anyone's reach.
Pochi was the first to stir, letting out a soft whimper as she shifted beneath the blankets. Tama opened her eyes soon after, disoriented, trying to sit up. Liza leaned over quickly to stop them from rising too fast.
"Easy," she murmured softly. "It's over."
Tama looked up at her, still half asleep, her ears twitching with confusion.
"What… what happened, Liza?"
Pochi rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on her companion's face before speaking.
"Is Master okay?"
Liza nodded calmly, brushing their heads with a gentle hand.
"Yes. He's fine. He's working on something, but there's no danger."
Both exhaled at once. They were still trembling, but her tone was enough to ease them. Liza looked up at the sky for a moment; the sun was already high—she hadn't realized how much time had passed.
Then a shadow moved among the trees. Hans appeared, silent as always, his presence so sudden that Liza barely noticed him until he spoke.
"The soldiers are approaching."
Tama and Pochi jumped. Liza turned to him with a brief nod.
"Understood. I'll receive them."
Hans lowered his head slightly and vanished again into the thicket. Tama stepped forward, still drowsy but restless.
"Can we come too?"
"Yes, we'll help," added Pochi, her tail swaying nervously.
Before Liza could answer, an enormous shadow rose before them. The Black Demon emerged from the air, his blackened armor gleaming and his red eyes glowing under the noon sun. The dry, hollow sound of his manifestation was enough to freeze them in place.
"Kyaaaaaa!" Tama screamed, curling up on herself.
"Monster! It's a monster!" Pochi shrieked, trying to run but tripping over the blanket.
Both fell flat to the ground at once, fainting with a dull thud.
The silence that followed was immediate. Liza stood motionless, staring down at the two unconscious girls, while the Black Demon blinked, clearly confused, staring at them as if trying to understand what he'd done wrong. Hans reappeared behind him, his expression as impassive as ever. Neither said a word.
After a few seconds, Liza sighed in resignation and pressed a hand to her forehead.
***
By noon, Liza had fulfilled her master's order. With the letter in hand, she met the group of soldiers returning to the clearing. The exchange was brief and formal. Though she technically held a lower rank, the men did not treat her as such. No one wanted to risk offending someone who had stood beside the man who faced a god and survived. Merely mentioning Satoru's name changed their tone immediately. They accepted the list without a single question, promising to deliver everything before dusk.
The rest of the day passed quietly. Hans remained on watch while Satoru, Zen, and the Black Demon continued their studies within the illusion's boundary. None of the three rested—they didn't need to. Throughout the night, the faint shimmer of magical energy leaked through the burned trees, turning the forest into a dead sanctuary.
When dawn came, the soldiers kept their word. They brought materials, crystals, tools, and a reinforced wooden carriage—simple yet sturdy. Liza handled the reception, offering formal thanks as her position demanded, while Hans inspected the supplies with his usual precision. Shortly after, Satoru emerged from the illusion's veil, accompanied by Zen and the Black Demon. His figure was still wrapped in the black, torn cloak, the edges burned by battle.
"Muno," he said simply.
In the end, their destination remained the same.
On the road to Muno, he might find records or alchemists familiar with the forging of holy weapons. More importantly, the land itself was infested with the undead, its air heavy with negative energy. To anyone else it would be a cursed region—but to Satoru, it was an invaluable resource.
Before departing, he examined his physical state. The wounds that had pierced his body were sealed by Hans's ointment—an ancient mixture capable of neutralizing harmful effects without relying on life force. That quality made it useful even for an undead like him. Yet the marks remained.
Beneath his new cloak, his skin bore the traces of holy fire. Across his torso, chest, and abdomen stretched the deep scars left by Mito's sword. Some were thin and precise; others jagged, like cracks that refused to close. His arms and legs carried smaller traces—the aftermath of countless strikes.
He felt no pain, but he felt their weight. Each mark was a reminder of his vulnerability and of the enemy he still had to surpass.
The sacred sword that had carved those marks into him remained at his side. Unlike the rest of Mito's equipment—properly sealed within Hans's inventory—this weapon rested in Satoru's own hands, wrapped in layers of black cloth reinforced with magic, a binding he, Zen, and the Black Demon had prepared to contain its lingering divine trace.
The irony wasn't lost on him: the blade that had nearly destroyed him would, in time, become another tool for his experiments… yet for now it stayed with him, beyond his use, a constant reminder of what he still had to overcome.
As for the body…
He chose to burn it.
Satoru stood by the carriage. Liza was already ready; Tama and Pochi were arranging the bags inside, while Hans took the reins. The vehicle, though rough, moved smoothly thanks to the magical reinforcement installed during the night.
The sun rose over the ravaged forest as the carriage began to move. The breeze stirred Satoru's cloak and lifted a cloud of ash that scattered with the wind.
The scars remained beneath the fabric—unseen, but present. They weren't merely wounds. They were the foundations of the new purpose that now guided him.
And with them, Satoru resumed his journey toward Muno.
*******
Author's Note:
A calm, transitional chapter—marking the end of the storm and the beginning of what comes next.
Not much to add this time. Just the road ahead.
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