The "Three Counts" all disliked when one interfered in another's field of duty.
This stubborn trait of theirs was one of the reasons why Luminas often suffered from headaches in her long immortal life.
Aware of this truth, Louis chose to back down first. His sharp eyes softened as he bowed low.
"Yes… I am most ashamed of my behavior."
Gunther, still rigid but aware of Luminas's displeasure, followed suit.
"My most sincere apologies."
The crypt fell into silence as both Counts bent their pride.
Luminas let out a faint groan, her pale hand rubbing her temple in exasperation. Her tone was cold but majestic as she issued her command.
"With Roy gone, we will have to reassign duties. But there is no time for that now. You two will both come with me for now."
Her voice carried finality.
Both Louis and Gunther straightened immediately, their postures tense yet loyal.
"Understood."
"I shall pledge my service."
The two majin obeyed with relief, grateful to remain at her side.
Luminas turned and began to walk toward the surface, her every step radiated command, her aura so cold it froze the very air around her.
But after only a few paces, she halted.
Her crimson-red and ocean-blue eyes flickered back toward the holy ark—the coffin where her beloved girl slumbered in eternal frost.
The chamber was silent, the only sound the faint hum of sacred energy radiating from the sealed coffin, gnawing at Luminas's vampiric body like poison.
She whispered softly, words that trembled with both longing and obsession:
"Just you wait—"
Her lips moved again, this time forming the name of the girl she treasured most, the name hidden deep in her heart. A vow, a promise, and a threat to the world itself.
Luminas slowly lifted her pale hand and caressed the surface of the crypt gate, her touch filled with sorrow and hunger.
Then, with a wave of her hand, her magicule surged. Crimson light erupted from her palm, wrapping the crypt in layer after layer of barriers.
The holy chamber shook as the gate was sealed tightly, sinking into a pitch-black void where no one could trespass.
Chains of magic—woven from Luminas's own life force—locked the frozen coffin into nothingness, as if hiding away her dearest treasure from the eyes of the world.
Only then did Luminas turn again, her fangs glinting faintly in the shadows.
"Come," she said coldly to Louis and Gunther. "Atem is no ordinary opponent. If Hinata dies to him, the consequences will ripple far beyond Eterna."
Louis clenched his fists. Gunther adjusted his gloves in silence. Both followed without hesitation as the Queen of Nightmares ascended from her crypt, carrying with her the weight of secrets and the burden of chains.
A leader of the secret organization Cerberus—Damrada the Gold—had arrived in the Kingdom of Farmus after his clandestine meeting with the Five Elders.
Now, his path took him to the borderlands of Nedler territory.
Damrada had always been cautious, patient, and precise. Through endless bribes and gifts, he had wormed his way into the good graces of the covetous Earl Nedler McMunn. Greed was a simple key, and with it, the gates had opened. Thanks to Nedler's insatiable desire for wealth, Damrada had slipped men into the city under the cover of coin and false promises.
And now, his efforts bore fruit.
He had learned exactly where King Edmalis was hiding.
It would not be long before this land descended into chaos.
Reports had already reached him: the newly crowned King Edward was marching with an army of twenty thousand men, encamped dangerously close to Edmalis's stronghold.
And worse—Hero Youm was sheltering the old king.
This was exactly the scandal Damrada had anticipated.
He would make sure Edward announced it to the world: that Youm and Edmalis had colluded, betraying Farmus. That Edmalis had signed the ceasefire treaty without authorization. That Edward, as the new king, would never recognize such weakness.
But Edward could not appear tyrannical—so he would feign "good faith." He would claim Edmalis and Youm had embezzled the reparations meant for Farmus's people.
To the wealthy citizens of the inner cities, the truth did not matter. They did not live at the border, where raids and monsters claimed lives every season. They did not bleed, so they could not understand the need for defenders.
What they did understand was coin.
A "hero" who bled their treasury dry to fight distant wars was no hero to them. He was a parasite.
And when the word spread that Youm and Edmalis had lined their own pockets with reparations?
The city boiled with fury.
Nobles and merchants volunteered themselves to King Edward's cause. The people cheered the "righteous king," their voices echoing through Farmus as they condemned Youm and Edmalis as traitors.
Edward had exploited their ignorance perfectly.
And Damrada was the one who had set the board.
If left unchecked, Youm and Edmalis would soon be defamed, captured, and executed.
And all of it—every chain of events—was by Damrada's hand.
The war he had whispered into existence was now inevitable.
This land had once held only Youm's five thousand soldiers. But three days ago, reinforcements began to arrive—more steel, more blades, more chaos.
Damrada leaned back in his chair, golden eyes glittering as he whispered to himself.
"Hmph… of course the Demon Lord of Eterna would never allow Youm to fall so easily. Atem is far too careful. Naive… how terribly naive."
He allowed himself a cruel smile.
"If Atem intervenes, Hinata the Saint's chances rise. Perhaps that will serve my purpose. Then… it may be time for me to withdraw."
Yet he knew better than to trust in clean endings.
His lies to Hinata were dangerous. If she learned the truth, she would pursue him relentlessly.
She would never allow him to walk free.
And though Damrada was arrogant, even he knew—Hinata Sakaguchi was not a woman to be taken lightly.
Still, removing her was not his task. That decision lay with the Five Elders.
Damrada exhaled slowly, brushing dust from his golden coat.
"This opponent… perhaps even I should avoid meeting her blade directly."
He considered his mission.
The head of Cerberus had ordered only one thing:
To stir war. To drown this land in conflict.
That task was already fulfilled.
But the promise he had made with the Five Elders still remained—
To eliminate the Demon.
The plan had shifted. The pieces on the board had moved in ways even Damrada had not predicted.
But this was no surprise. A schemer's greatest skill was adapting.
The plan had already shifted as the situation developed.
According to Earl Nedler's investigation of the secret meetings, it appeared that the demon himself wished to end this war swiftly.
Damrada sat in silence, his mind turning.
The new king's goal. The demon's motive. Both were now in direct opposition.
The new king had no desire to provoke Demon Lord Atem. The difference in military power was overwhelming, like the earth against the heavens. Even if he marched his entire nation to war, the result would be ruin.
And yet… Atem had thrown his support behind the so-called Hero Youm. That alone revealed something chilling: Atem did not fear war. He was willing to stand against an entire nation if it meant enforcing his vision.
Damrada clicked his tongue.
"The new king's claim of justice collapses the moment Atem chooses to intervene," he muttered. "This is no longer a war between men. This is judgment—absolute judgment."
The weight of that realization pressed on him.
But there was more. A detail that gnawed at his mind.
During the investigations into the demon elimination task, Damrada uncovered a startling truth: the majin Razen had not, in fact, been loyal to the old king at all. He had been serving under the command of the demon himself—the very being Damrada was tasked to destroy.
Damrada froze, his sharp gaze narrowing.
"…That means Razen wasn't defeated by Atem. He was crushed by one of Atem's subordinates."
The thought unsettled him deeply.
This could not have been any ordinary archdemon. No modern breed could accomplish such a feat. Which meant… this demon had to be something far older. Something ancient.
His face stiffened, shadows tightening across his features.
There wasn't enough information. Even the dossiers sent by his superiors in the Empire carried nothing on such a being.
He forced himself to think it through.
Among archdemons, their strength varied depending on the era of their birth. The newer breeds might be manageable. Dangerous, yes, but not beyond comprehension. The ones born two or three centuries ago, however, could already rival Calamity-class threats.
And the medieval breeds? The ones born nearly a thousand years ago? Those were nightmares. Creatures whose power rivaled the lieutenants of Demon Lords themselves. Even the weakest of them, evolved from lesser demons, could tear apart entire armies.
Once such a demon appeared, humanity could do nothing but despair.
Damrada exhaled sharply, tension knotting in his chest.
"If this is what Atem commands, then the balance has already been broken…"
He remembered the old lessons: the medieval breed was the highest level of demon that might acknowledge a human contract. Anything higher spelled nothing but destruction. A summoner had no chance of survival—only the certainty of having their soul devoured.
It was why the Empire enforced limits on summoning. Their research, their rules—everything was built to prevent the chaos of an uncontrollable archdemon. Only the rare "Hero-class" summoners dared to touch such contracts.
And yet… here was Razen, a name infamous even within the Empire, known for his monstrous strength and cunning.
Damrada leaned forward, muttering low:
"If it truly was majin Razen… and Atem commands a demon capable of defeating him…"
He clenched his jaw, sweat sliding down the back of his neck.
Then this was no ordinary servant. This was a predator among predators. A being that would shatter humanity's fragile order and cast aside every safeguard mankind had built.
"Could Atem have unleashed such a thing deliberately?" Damrada whispered, his voice trembling despite himself.
The thought chilled him.
"…If Razen could not stand against Atem's subordinate, then what hope do we have against Atem himself?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Damrada's conclusion came grim and heavy:
There would be no easy war. No swift assassination. No clever maneuver.
They were walking into the jaws of a sovereign who controlled life, death, and the very fate of nations.
And Damrada, for the first time in years, felt fear gnaw at the edges of his resolve.