"Help… Mother…"
A demon child mimics the human-pleasing phrase, surrounded by villagers. I observe from a distance.
(Attacking a village… foolish. Not even fully grown…)
Wounded on the shoulder, unable to flee, the child's cornered. It likely targeted a human and got caught—typical of immature demons. The rule is to hunt lone humans; groups are harder. Magic can help, but humans have mages and warriors too. Villages have guards. Great demons might not care, but why bother? Young demons, especially, must avoid humans unless the chance is perfect—for survival.
(No sign of eating a human yet… there's still a chance to live.)
The villagers' clamor grates—talk of an injured child, calls to kill or spare it. Foolish humans. Only two years since the Demon King's fall, and they've forgotten demons? To them, we're wordless beasts, yet they hesitate to kill one that looks and speaks like them. The height of human waste and irrationality. That's our way—exploiting it. This child's youth is its edge. "Mother" disarms most humans, like magic, letting it deceive and escape.
"Hero-sama! Please…!" a villager pleads.
If not for Himmel.
Unable to agree, they push the child's fate onto him. But—
Himmel stands frozen, sword in hand, eyes on the child and the crowd. Not like him. He's decisive, yet his hand trembled earlier—I saw it. A Himmel I've never witnessed.
(He's thinking pointless things again…)
As a human and hero, his path is clear: cut the child down. Seconds to end it. Yet he hesitates. Fooled by the child's plea? Swayed by the villagers? No—Himmel knows better. He's slain countless demons; he wouldn't waver over this. Then—
(This situation… it's tied to what that priest said.)
A memory clicks. Heiter's drunken talk in the capital—why Himmel spared me. This scene mirrors that. His trembling, his fear—it's tied to human "atonement." This child's a different demon, yet it haunts him. Human thinking—Himmel's thinking—is beyond me.
(What to do…)
No reason to save the child—a separate entity, irrelevant. My concern is Himmel. Doing nothing's an option; he'll kill it, and it ends. All that's left is his pointless guilt. What's best for me? What can I use? Déjà vu—this chance came fast. Let's test it.
"Aura…?" Himmel says.
I step forward, robe up, hiding my horns. No need to show them like last time—that was strategic. Here, it'd only hurt me. Himmel, distracted, doesn't get my move. Such a fool, wasting time on this.
"If you won't do it, I will," I say. "You're not letting it go, right?"
I summon magic—Zoltraak, the human-killing spell—aimed at the child. Even Himmel, dreaming of coexistence, wouldn't spare it. He's not that soft. I was an exception, bound not to harm humans, but demons are fair game. I could end it easily. If he won't, I will. But I know he'll stop me.
"No!" Himmel says. "I can't let you do that!"
He's too kind-hearted, unable to let me kill my own kind. I don't get why, but I know his principles. It irks me. Something similar happened before—when? No matter. My task now is one.
"Then release me," I say.
End this farce and wasted time. It's also a chance, an experiment. But Himmel, unusually slow, stands stunned. He's normally annoyingly perceptive. This situation must hit him hard. Sensing my impatience—
"Thank you, Aura," he says, smiling. "'Please help me.'"
His pathetic look vanishes, replaced by baffling words. Why "thank you"? Why does Azeliese activate with that? I feel the spell lift temporarily. Infuriating. No joy or thrill like at the trial. I don't get why, but fine—let's finish this.
"Mother…" the child says.
Scared by my magic or my mana, it pleads desperately—a demon's instinct. No mistake, except—
"Begging me is pointless," I say. "We're both demons."
The word means nothing to me. It should know that, yet it can't stop. I almost understand humans now. Demons are as foolish as they are.
"Choose," I say, brandishing my scales. "Obey me and live, or die."
Not a deal like with that man. Life or death—simple coercion. I hold the power. Survival of the fittest—human or demon, it's law. All it needs is—
"…I don't want to die," it says.
A true plea, not human mimicry—its own words. Lucky. If it said "mother" or "help," I'd have made it self-destruct.
I unleash Azeliese. Two souls weigh on the scales—obvious who wins, especially against a demon not hiding mana. Only that elf could challenge me. The child freezes, eyes wide, a puppet stripped of will. I ask again, needlessly, to confirm Azeliese's hold.
"'Speak the truth,'" I say. "'Will you obey me?'"
To confirm it's truly a demon.
"'No. I just want to survive,'" it says mechanically, clearly.
My lips curl. That's a demon—deceiving and devouring without hesitation. Humans alone waver. This child proves it.
"That's a demon," I say to Himmel. "What now?"
I'm exhilarated—demonic instinct or something else? Will he spare this child like me? A taunt: is it safe to keep me as is? I don't know how he sees me after a year. This reminds him we're irreconcilable. And—
"Obviously," he says, meeting my gaze. "The same as with you."
His answer, unwavering, mirrors a year ago. This foolish hero still clings to his dream. My eyes flicker to the silver freesia on my chest—a curse. I'm still bound to this hero's spell. Escaping it is my goal, even if it defies demonic nature.
This was our debate, resumed after a year—the continuation and a new beginning. Caught in it, the demon child's life was spared—
"So, we really didn't need to stay in the village?" I ask.
"Yeah," Himmel says. "It'd burden them, especially with her. I'll send an apology letter later."
"Do what you want," I say.
In the moonlit forest, we walk. Himmel carries the demon child on his back, asleep from exhaustion. After treating its wounds, we left the village quickly.
(Staying would've been ideal… but it's never that easy.)
I glare at Himmel's back, inwardly cursing. Staying was my best shot to escape him—a perfect chance.
(Oh well… confirming Azeliese's state is gain enough.)
I imagine the scales, no longer in hand. I'm bound to Himmel again, as expected—only a temporary release. But this time's different, thanks to the child.
(It's under Azeliese too. My commands persist even if I'm bound…)
The child, like me, is under Azeliese with the same rules:
"Do not eat humans." "Do not harm humans." "Do not stray too far from the Hero."
Three ironclad constraints. For Himmel, they're non-negotiable to spare us. They keep me alive, but there's a catch: what happens to the child's commands if I'm bound? If they vanish, it's free—Himmel knows the risk. Binding me might become impossible, a dilemma. I planned to trap him in that choice and escape. It didn't work perfectly.
(Was that the rule, or did Himmel cause it?)
My commands to the child held, even bound. Is that Azeliese's nature, or did Himmel's will alter it? A mage like me, bound, is already abnormal. Anything's possible.
(I'll watch for now… I don't know how this'll play out.)
Not all went as planned, but I gained insight: my prior commands hold under Himmel's binding. A weapon, if used right. The child—Linie—could outmaneuver him. Dividing his focus gives me room to move. It's valuable.
"Nn…" the child stirs.
"Awake?" Himmel says. "Can you walk?"
Linie slides off his back, looking between us, assessing her situation—demonic survival instinct.
"What's her name, Aura?" Himmel says. "Ask her."
"Why me?" I say.
"You're both demons," he says. "You follow stronger mana, right? You're perfect for it."
He uses demonic habits against me, back to normal after the village. Infuriatingly adaptable. Fine, I'll ask. Names don't matter, but it's a hassle without one.
"…Linie," she says after blinking.
Self-named or given, she has one. Demons don't lie about names—pointless.
"Linie, huh?" Himmel says. "Cute name."
"You'd say that about any name," I say.
"Not true," he says. "Yours is cute too, Aura."
"Great," I say.
He teases, as expected. I ignore him—arguing fuels him. My name… five centuries ago, I can't recall its origin.
"…Mother," Linie says, grabbing my robe.
"What?" I say, shaking her off. "I'm not your mother. Let go."
She grabs again. What's wrong with her? Deceiving a demon is pointless—she should know.
"It's fine," Himmel says. "To Linie, you're like a mother."
"Stop talking nonsense," I say. "I told you, we don't have that concept. She's mimicking human kids."
"Maybe," he says. "But mimicking might become real."
"Then we'd already be human," I say.
His whimsy exhausts me. It's just mimicry, instinctual imprinting—nothing changes. Linie's acting to survive. Is Himmel that naive? I'm swayed too, somehow. To think I'd feel human deception through a demon.
Using Linie might've been a mistake. Still, with her clinging, I head toward Eisen, another of Himmel's party—
(Finally, some relief… though trouble's ahead.)
I stifle a laugh at Aura's flustered struggle with Linie, relieved. I never imagined this on our way to Eisen.
(Aura planned to use Linie to escape me… but it backfired, huh?)
I knew she saved Linie to manipulate me—create a chance to flee. It's her nature, not just now. The audience, the trial—all aimed at freedom, deceiving humans as demons do. She said it herself, bound: demons can't stop deceiving.
The village head said she'll never understand humans. I agree—her understanding's superficial. But I know more. She remembers my likes, dislikes, villagers' names, faces, their work, human society.
Above all, she does "pointless" things herself, unaware. Then, and now. I don't know what it means, but it's not bad for her.
(This is us, isn't it?)
Humans and demons, probing each other, wary friends. It suits us. I like it—different from my other comrades, but real.
(Why am I drawn to difficult women?)
I realize, horrified, what I'd cause saying that aloud. I picture that headstrong woman and dismiss it. If she knew, I'd be done for.
(Now for the hard part.)
I refocus. Linie's impact on us is unclear, but I must face it—a continuation of that day's regret, lives lost in fire, my selfish atonement. She offered a new choice, even if not her intent. No regrets this time. I'm not alone.
"There's Eisen's house," I say.
It's unchanged after a year. I carry Linie, sparing exhausted Aura, who's worn from our night march. Staying in the village would've caused trouble—unlike the village head's or Stroh's villages. Eisen'll understand.
"Eisen!" I call. "Been a while! You look great. We're early, but here to visit."
He's working outside, his dwarven frame radiating strength, beard and eyes unchanged. I can't help but grin. But—
Eisen stares, expressionless, skeptical. In ten years together, I've never seen this. His gaze shifts between my chest and beside me. What's—
I realize. To an outsider, I'm a scoundrel hero, with a beloved elsewhere, visiting with another woman and her child.
"I'm disappointed, Himmel," Eisen says.
Cold sweat drenches me. I'm exactly that scoundrel.
"No, Eisen!" I say. "It's not what you think—!"
"Idiot," Aura says.
"Idiot?" Linie echoes.
My resolve crumbles. I plead as Aura mocks me, Linie mimicking her.
This was the start of a new, trying life for Himmel, following the capital—
--+--
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