"Right? Right, right! The famous Detective Ramiris nailed it! So why don't we just blow Clayman away?" Shion crowed, eyes bright.
"Good point." Someone else — eager and reckless — flashed a grin. "Shall I go handle him right now?"
"Hey, wait, calm down, Shion. Don't storm off. Benimaru, Souei — don't follow either!" I cut in, voice low and controlled.
The room had not, in fact, returned to anything sensible. Even Ramiris was carried along by the excitement.
"And what's with all these powerful magi here anyway? If you're all so strong, why not let me keep Beretta?" she demanded, suddenly territorial.
She was infuriating — impulsive, loud, and absurdly confident. She saw strength and assumed ownership. Typical Ramiris.
Grucis, nerves raw from earlier, piped up. "Could I come to Walpurgis too? I want to see what happened to Karion-sama."
That was…possible, probably not smart. Ramiris laughed and explained, "Only the demon lords and two or three trusted aides can attend. Outsiders will be killed. It's deadly serious."
A thought struck me. If Walpurgis was being called and I was named as the target, perhaps the most straightforward approach was also the best. Test the defenses. Meet the threat head-on. Avoid letting my people become targets in the shadows.
"Ramiris," I said, meeting her eyes, "inform them I'll attend."
Every head turned, the weight of that choice rippling through the room. If I was to be accused, going where accusations were decided would let me confront the lie — and whoever stood behind it. I trusted the barrier I had prepared; I trusted my ability to withdraw if needed. More importantly, I would not let my allies be hurt because of secrecy.
"Kuahahahaha!" Ramiris crowed, delighted. "Finally motivated! I'll go with you. With me, you need not fear mere demon lords!"
"Yeah! If Master Vel-chan is going, I'll be safe too! And Beretta will come—my defense is perfect!" she bubbled.
"…I am not going there to babysit you," Veldora grumbled, indignant.
"What's with that 'Master' business?" Ramiris pouted. The two of them were already forming a ridiculous duo before I could stop them.
While she fussed, she activated a private channel — some spatially advanced demon-lord link — and began to broadcast my attendance to the other demon lords. She worked with all the innocent overconfidence of someone who believes a loud declaration is strategy.
Beretta stepped forward then, bowing with perfect etiquette. "Congratulations on your ascension to demon lord, Grandmaster," he intoned. "I have evolved from an 'Arch Doll' into a 'Chaos Doll.' I gained the Unique Skill 'Holy–Demon Mergence.' My new holy-demonic core renders most physical attacks and spells ineffective. I pledge my service to you."
The change was real: his body now held a chaotic fusion of holy and demonic attributes. The "Arch Doll" that had been limited by the Holy Field's suppression had found balance and evolved. A new spirit core had formed and merged with his magic core — an unexpected but welcome development. I made a mental note to study the transformation later; for now, survival was priority.
"That's…good," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We'll discuss the technicals later. For now, obey Ramiris unless the order is unreasonable. Beretta, I'll be relying on you during Walpurgis."
"You have my utmost loyalty," Beretta replied, voice crisp. "I will not fail your expectations."
Around the small war-room, people were buzzing — some with bloodlust, some with calculation. Shion wanted to charge and kill every demon lord who might attend. Benimaru and Souei exchanged brisk, tactical thoughts. Veldora was more theatrical than helpful, but his presence alone was intimidation enough.
I folded my hands and set the tone, deliberate and cold. "We will prepare on two tracks. First: intelligence. Solarys — refine the predictions; trace Clayman's recent movements; check for complicit signatories or pressure points. Second: defense. Strengthen our wards, test the new barrier under live conditions, place contingencies for extraction and counterattack. Diplomacy must continue in public; preparations must happen quietly."
Benimaru nodded. "We'll tighten patrols and set ambush points. If Clayman moves, we'll know."
Souei added, "I'll arrange covert surveillance. No open provocations."
Shion bounced on her heels, heart still set on battle. "If they try to lay hands on our people—"
"Then we'll respond," I cut in, not letting zeal override planning. "But we will not be reckless. Clayman is cunning. If he staged Karion's death to provoke this, he'll expect a wild counter. We will not give him the chaos he wants."
Ramiris, puffed with pride, stomped a tiny foot. "I'll make sure everyone knows Atem's coming. No one will dare summon Walpurgis without thinking twice!"
I permitted a small, controlled smile. "Then inform them. But make the message clear: I will attend. I will listen. If this is a summons for justice, it will be met with proof and measured response. If it is a trap to force blood, we will expose it."
Beretta straightened. "Understood. I will ready defensive protocols and accompany you."
"Good," I said. The plan was forming: detection, defense, diplomacy, and — if needed — decisive action. We would not be dragged into a war of rumors. If someone wanted blood, they would have to show it in the open and face judgment.
Outside, the world shifted on the whisper of a feast. Inside, we turned the rising storm into a strategy. Walpurgis was no longer just a threat — it was a test. And tests were what I met with cold calculation and a sword arm to finish if necessary.
After that exchange I had Beretta return to its seat. Ramiris's lone attendant would go as her representative; Grucis would also join, disguised to avoid drawing attention. Myuran wanted to go too — claimed she had her own score to settle with Clayman — but Youm stopped her. Frankly, I didn't count on her as a frontline fighter, so reasoning with Youm was the sensible choice.
Beretta and Grucis were set to attend as Ramiris's aides. Shion looked furious watching Beretta speak with me; if I left her behind, she'd likely go on a rampage out of spite. I couldn't risk that. I chose Shion as my attendant instead. Ranga stayed in my shadow, silent but ready.
"I said I'm coming," Shion declared, stamping her foot. "With me at your back, no demon lord can touch you!"
Reliable in her own reckless way. Decision made.
Benimaru and Souei exchanged disappointed looks — they wanted to come — but duty called. They would remain here to guard the town. Geld and Gabil would help them plan the defensive layout; both would lead the fortification work while I was away. We had to prepare for one unsettling possibility: that the Holy Church might send subjugation troops. For that reason I stationed Diablo outside the town. He was the best candidate to break through holy wards and face paladins. I also considered placing Souei on external watch — his stealth and assassination skills would be useful to intercept any covert threats before they reached our borders.
While we waited for Ramiris to relay my attendance, we tightened details.
"Beretta, can you maintain a secure link while you travel?" I asked. "If anything goes wrong, I need a channel to extract or call for support."
"Understood," Beretta answered crisply. "I will keep the link open and monitor for hostile signatures."
"Grucis, you will travel in disguise," I told him. "If you can gather anything on Clayman's movements, report it directly to Beretta. Stay out of battle unless absolutely necessary."
Grucis bowed, face pale but determined. "Yes. I'll do all I can for Karion-sama."
Myuran watched, jaw clenched. Youm stepped in. "Myuran, you're not going. If we lose you, we lose a strategist. Stay and strengthen our lines."
She protested, but Youm's voice left no room for argument. Myuran grumbled, then conceded.
Shion, however, wasn't done. "If they try to lay hands on our people—"
"We will respond," I said. My tone was even, a cold assurance rather than a promise of emotion. "But we will not be reckless. Clayman is cunning. He will have contingencies. We must be methodical: gather intel, test the barrier under live conditions, and plan extraction routes. If diplomacy fails and we must fight, it will be on our terms."
Veldora, lounging as always, laughed. "Battle! Finally some fun!"
"Keep the theatrics under control," I said, and he quieted with an exaggerated sigh.
In the end, the demon lords agreed to accept my attendance. Perhaps they thought it a waste of effort to storm human towns for petty slaughter — or perhaps they respected directness. Either way, I would attend Walpurgis. The principal adversary named in this iteration was Clayman; Leon Cromwell's name hovered in the background, a reminder of other lingering conflicts. I hadn't forgotten the disturbance the Orc Lord had caused, nor Myuran's unfinished business. Milim's stance troubled me most of all; if she truly sided with Clayman, then the political picture would be more complicated.
Ramiris informed the demon-lord channel I'd be attending. She did it with the childish pride she always showed — loud, overconfident, oblivious to nuance. Still, sometimes truth wore a bright, loud face.
Beretta stepped forward then and bowed with stiff formality. "Congratulations on your ascension to demon lord, Grandmaster," it said. "I have evolved from an Arch Doll into a Chaos Doll. I have acquired the Unique Skill 'Holy–Demon Mergence.' My new core combines holy and demonic attributes, rendering many physical attacks and spells ineffective. I will serve."
The change was real: the doll's core had shifted, forming a hybrid that resisted the Holy Field's suppression. For now, I filed the technical curiosity away — a future research subject — and focused on the present. The evolution was welcome; Beretta was more formidable now.
"Good," I said. "We'll debrief on the mechanics later. For now: chain of command. Obey Ramiris unless the order endangers civilians or us.
Beretta, keep the link. Grucis, gather intel. Shion, stay with me unless extraction is needed. Benimaru and Souei, hold this town. Geld and Gabil, fortify and prepare to repel or delay any holy forces."
They acknowledged, faces set. The plan was straightforward, harsh and pragmatic. We were moving toward a path that might force a confrontation. If Clayman and his allies had marked me as an enemy, so be it — I would not forgive someone who made me their enemy. I did not speak in threats for show. My voice always meant action.
"However," I added, softer only by measure, "that does not extend to women or girls who are not combatants." There was a beat of awkward silence, then Shion huffed and Ranga made a low, indifferent noise.
The preparations were made. The road to Walpurgis had been chosen — not as a ploy for glory, but as the sharpest tool for exposing the truth. If someone wanted blood, they would have to bring proof. If they wanted war, they would face a measured storm. I would see the balance tipped, and if it had been pushed by malice, I would return the weight tenfold.