"Alright, Heiter?" Himmel slurs. "I'll take care of her, promise."
"No way," Heiter retorts. "You always leave the mess to me. Listen to your mom."
"How long is this farce going to last?" I snap.
The ridiculous act from the walk home continues inside, and I'm fed up. I get it now—Himmel and Heiter together are trouble doubled. They're a headache I don't need.
"Sorry, sorry," Himmel laughs. "Just joking around. It's nostalgic. On our journey, Heiter was always the mom figure."
"Oh, the struggles," Heiter sighs. "Especially with Frieren. Always oversleeping… If I weren't so patient, the party would've fallen apart."
"Did you just click your tongue?" Himmel accuses.
"Whatever," I mutter.
They drag up that absent elf. Their travel stories mean nothing to me—a waste of time. Add that elf and a dwarf to this duo? I don't need to hear how chaotic that journey was.
"So, what's this ruckus?" I say, exasperated. "You always like this?"
The table's piled with food and an absurd amount of liquor. They're clinking cups, making a scene. There's one in front of me too, but I'm not touching it. This is beyond annoying.
"No way," Himmel says. "Today's special. After all that, your safety's guaranteed. Even the Goddess will forgive a little fun."
"Exactly," Heiter adds. "As a priest, I guarantee it. Plus, it's a reunion with my best friend after a year."
"You just wanted free booze," Himmel says.
"Caught me," Heiter grins.
"So, I'm dragged into this nonsense for nothing," I say.
They're too drunk to listen, or maybe they can't hear me anymore. And there's Heiter, a priest guzzling liquor. Boorish priest, indeed. I'll snitch to the king's lackeys next time.
"It's not nothing," Himmel says. "You can live openly in this kingdom now."
"With that conspicuous robe as a condition," Heiter adds.
"It's unavoidable," Heiter continues. "Even with the king's approval, not all citizens will accept it. We can't announce it publicly. People talk, though—word will spread eventually. Until then, keep it hidden."
"Coming from you, that's convincing, Heiter," Himmel says.
"Flattery gets you nowhere," Heiter replies. "Oh, refill my cup?"
"No way," I snap. "Pour it yourself."
This boorish priest expects me to serve him? Who does he think he is? I'm no maid. Helping with this drinking party was bad enough, and now this? I'd rather read or train, but their racket makes that impossible. Leaving's not an option either—I'd get lost in the capital. So, I'm stuck babysitting these drunks.
"Man, my life flashed before my eyes," Himmel groans, face red, words slurring. "Aura, why'd you say that to the king? Heiter saved us, but we were this close to execution…"
He's plastered, despite handling village feasts fine. Probably that boozehound's fault, egging him on.
"What're you talking about?" I retort. "You saved us. I knew you would, so I did it."
I'm dumbfounded. Why bring it up now? I wouldn't have done it otherwise.
"…"
Suddenly, the noisy duo falls silent. They exchange glances, blinking like they've seen a ghost.
"What?" I say. "Did I say something weird?"
"Pfft, haha!" Heiter bursts out, slapping Himmel's back. "She got you, Himmel! Making a demon say that? Truly a hero!"
"Shut up, boorish priest," Himmel mumbles, burying his face.
What's so funny? Heiter's even more gleeful, while Himmel slumps. What's going on?
That was the start of my first night in the capital—
"They're completely plastered," I say.
"He drank more than usual," Heiter replies. "No surprise. He was thrilled."
Himmel's passed out, snoring at the table. I shake him—no response. He's down till morning. I've seen him drunk in the village, but never this bad. Heiter's right—he overdid it.
"You seem fine," I note. "Drank way more than him."
"This is nothing," Heiter says. "I'm holding back. Normally, I'd be hungover tomorrow."
"Great," I say. "Then carry His Hero-ness to bed. He's in the way."
"As you wish, Mom," Heiter teases.
"Who're you calling Mom?" I snap.
He's just like Himmel, getting on my nerves. While I start clearing the messy table—after cleaning the whole house earlier, no less—Heiter returns. I wish he'd just sleep.
"What?" I say. "Gonna help clean?"
"No, how about a nightcap?" Heiter says, sitting. "I wanted to talk, just us."
He offers me a drink, already settled. I freeze. No refusing, apparently.
"So," I say, sitting, "you've figured out how to get rid of me?"
The room's air tenses, mana crackling. We lock eyes across the table.
"I'm a priest," Heiter says, unfazed. "I'd never do anything so crude."
"Cut the lies," I say. "You're not as soft as Himmel. You got him drunk to corner me, didn't you?"
"You saw through me," Heiter says, chuckling. "I wasn't careless, but demons are terrifying. Your deception outshines ours."
"Don't lecture me on deception," I retort.
He's unshaken, smug. I knew he wanted me gone from the start. No one sane spares a demon, especially a Hero's Party priest. Himmel's the odd one.
I had to avoid being alone with him. Even with Himmel, there was a fifty-fifty chance he'd kill me. The king's audience was child's play—this is the real trial, judging my fate.
"I'll take it as a compliment," Heiter says. "You're right—I planned to eliminate you. You're too dangerous, even if Himmel trusts you. I'd betray my friend to protect humanity."
"But not now?" I ask.
"No," he says. "Your words earlier reminded me why I trust Himmel. Thanks to you."
"What…?"
I'm thrown off. If he means it, I'm spared. But why? I didn't beg or say anything special.
"You don't realize it," Heiter says. "A human-demon difference, perhaps. You didn't plead for your life, unlike most demons in your position."
"Pleading's pointless with you," I say. "I'm not that stupid. Being honest gives me a better shot at surviving."
"Honest, huh?" Heiter muses. "I've fought many demons, but you're different. No, you've changed."
"I haven't changed," I insist.
He's spouting nonsense. They're the weird ones. Pleading works on ignorant humans, not those who know demons. Honesty's my best bet—something I learned this past year.
"But I did want to talk," Heiter says. "Drinking with a demon? Never dreamed of it."
"That's my line," I say. "It's a nightmare. Get on with it. I'll answer what I can."
I meet his narrowed eyes, reluctantly clinking cups. We down our drinks—mine's just for show; I can't get drunk. This is my trial, my life on the line. Unlike human trials, where deception wins, I can't fool Heiter. All I can do is answer honestly, hoping it strikes a chord. A gamble, left to his mercy.
"Fine," Heiter says. "What do you think of the humans you've killed?"
"Priests always ask the same thing," I say. "Nothing. Obviously."
"The same question elsewhere?" he asks.
"Yeah, the village chief," I say. "He was a priest too. But…"
"But?"
"I get it's important to humans," I say. "That's all."
Déjà vu. Why do priests ask this? Some rule? My answer's unchanged. Killing humans means nothing beyond eating. Sometimes I kill without eating, but there's no deep reason. I know it's a taboo topic for humans, something I shouldn't say.
"At today's audience," Heiter says, "how much did you understand?"
"What's that mean?" I ask. "What're you getting at?"
"What the king and I were aiming for," he says.
"Oh," I say. "You were arguing how to keep Himmel safe, right?"
It took me a moment. Why ask something so obvious?
It was just a compromise. You both wanted the same thing—clearing Himmel. Everything else was pointless. Maybe it wasn't even a trial, just a foregone conclusion.
"Exactly," Heiter says. "You understood."
"Of course," I say. "You both wanted the same thing, but it dragged on. Humans are so tedious."
"I agree," Heiter says. "But didn't it bother you? The king and I ignored your safety."
"Why would it?" I say. "You don't care about me. Only that goody-two-shoes hero does."
Why should I care? A demon's fate means nothing to a king or priest. Himmel's the only fool desperate to save me.
"What's that look?" I snap, catching Heiter's creepy stare.
"I'm starting to understand you," he says.
What's he talking about?
"If it's come to this," Heiter says, "I'll ask. Has Himmel told you why he saved you?"
"Yeah," I say. "The chief and Stark begged for me. Lucky their soft hearts."
"True," Heiter says. "But that's not all. Himmel wanted to atone by saving you."
"Atonement…?"
That word again. A human obsession, alien to demons. Himmel tried pushing it on me but stopped lately—gave up or forgot. Now he's atoning too? Incomprehensible.
Heiter starts recounting, unprompted, a story from early in their journey—a village, a child demon, and its consequences.
"What a waste," I say. "Humans are so pointless."
"A waste?" Heiter asks.
"Yeah," I say. "The chief died because he was foolish. The demon kid was just weak. If it was smarter, it'd have escaped. That's it. Himmel doesn't need to care. A dumb human died to a demon. Your lives are so short—why waste time on this?"
Why do humans bother with such nonsense? They must be bored, despite their fleeting lives. The story's the same. Himmel could've stopped it, but it was the chief's mistake. Why dwell on it?
"Maybe," Heiter says. "But Himmel couldn't see it that way. A life was lost because of him. He's been searching for meaning in that."
"There was meaning," I say. "You learned what demons are. Good for you. If you'd found out later, it could've been worse—Himmel might've died."
"That's…"
I answer my way. If they hadn't learned then, a craftier demon could've been fatal. The chief's death saved Himmel, in a way.
"But you won't get it," I say. "Himmel's forcing this atonement nonsense on me, even though I'm not that chief or that kid."
They'll never understand, Himmel included. Dragging me into his atonement is absurd—I'm unrelated.
"Himmel loves his pointless causes," I say. "Think of me, stuck dealing with it."
It's why I'm here, alive—a maddening contradiction. Thinking about it gives me a headache.
"What?" I say. "I answered. Got a problem?"
"No," Heiter says, satisfied. "You understand Himmel well."
What's with that smug look? Oh, right—he's a priest. I forgot, with all his drinking. I dodged execution, but being grilled like this is infuriating. Time for payback.
"Kidding me?" I say. "I don't get you people at all. Especially that elf. Traveling with monsters like you—she must've been a burden."
A risky jab, but I play it cool, slipping into my deceptive demon mode.
"Not at all," Heiter says. "Her mana's low, but she's an exceptional mage."
"Really?" I say. "I didn't mention mana. Why bring it up?"
"…"
Got him. The cunning priest slipped—carelessness, arrogance, or the booze. No escaping it.
"So," I say, "that elf's suppressing her mana."
The source of her oddity.
"Did Himmel tell you?" Heiter asks.
"No," I say. "But he acted weird talking about her—like he's hiding something. I confirmed it just now."
"Tricked me, huh?" Heiter says, scratching his head. "Well played."
I lay it bare. It started a year ago—Himmel's vague reactions when I mocked her low mana, his hesitance during the recent monster hunt. Even a human would've suspected something.
"As you say," Heiter admits, "she suppresses her mana outflow, almost always."
His confession stuns me. It's beyond comprehension.
"Why?" I say. "What's the point? Training to increase mana would be far more useful."
I suspected suppression, but the reason? Pointless. Constant suppression would ruin her body. Why not train to grow stronger?
"Demons wouldn't understand," Heiter says. "Frieren was right. Your answer is why."
"What…?"
I'm lost. His smug attitude doesn't help. Are we even speaking the same language?
"Let's say Frieren's your enemy," Heiter says. "You're at full strength; her mana's half yours. What do you do?"
"Easy," I say. "I'd use Azeliese to—"
I freeze, realizing.
"You get it," Heiter says. "You'd try Azeliese, and she'd turn it on you. Maybe order your death."
Cold sweat drenches me, my hand clutching my throat, confirming it's intact. His words are undeniable truth.
"Demons deceive with words," Heiter says. "She deceives demons with mana, killing them. That's Frieren the Slayer's way."
The reason demons call her "Slayer." Her terrifying secret.
"Don't mock me!" I shout. "That's an insult to magic! She's a coward!"
To a demon, a mage, it's unthinkable—defiling magic, your pride, your soul. A despicable cheat. Yet it's how she's buried us, catching us off guard. It's unforgivable, humiliating.
"Frieren knows that best," Heiter says. "She degrades magic to kill demons, through blood-soaked effort. The anger you feel? Humans feel it toward demons."
His words silence me. I understand—humans feel this rage when we deceive them. But I can't accept it. Then I realize—
"Wait," I say. "Her mana's higher than yours?"
"Yes," Heiter says. "About twice mine. Only an elf living over a millennium could have it."
My mage pride shatters. The gap between me and her is overwhelming—she didn't even need to deceive me.
"Why tell me this?" I say. "Revealing that to a demon, an enemy, is insane."
"Well," Heiter says, "a few reasons. One, you'd already guessed. Himmel's terrible at lying—he'd have spilled it eventually."
I can't argue. Himmel's hopeless at deception, bragging he never lies to me. He'd have slipped.
"Another," Heiter says, "is that it won't matter to Frieren. Knowing this, what would you do facing her?"
"I'd run—" I stop, teeth gritted.
I answered myself. He set me up.
"That's it," Heiter says. "You're cautious, cowardly even. You hid after losing to Himmel. Knowing Frieren's power, you won't fight."
I have no counter. Even a demon would flee from him, let alone her.
"You're mocking me," I say.
"Not at all," Heiter says. "We've fled stronger foes plenty. I respect it. Even if her deception's exposed, Frieren won't lose. You know her title better than us."
"…"
Her deception doesn't matter—she's that strong. The mage who's slain countless demons. She's the true monster.
"And the last reason," Heiter says. "Simple. With Himmel here, I don't worry. He'll keep you from clashing with Frieren."
"If we met now, she'd crush me," I say.
"That's up to Himmel's charm," Heiter laughs.
He chugs his drink, carefree, as if the tension never existed. How much can this guy drink? My only move is to avoid that elf at all costs—a delayed death sentence.
"I said a lot," Heiter says, "but it's my trust in you, because Himmel trusts you. That's all."
What's with these people? Are they under some flower-field spell?
"That's just relying on others," I say.
"Ouch," Heiter says.
"You're definitely his best friend, boorish priest," I say.
Resigned, I join the drinking. I don't recall what we talked about—just pointless chatter I didn't need to remember.
That was the end of Aura's night drinking with the boorish priest in the capital.
As an aside, the next morning, Aura was stuck nursing a hero and priest turned undead by hangovers.