Demons are attracted to stronger and purer demons. To them, the density and purity of the demon is proof of its power. It's a sign of greatness.

　They release miasma to ripen the demons and glare at the lower demons with it. That's what it means to be a demon.

　A demon beast made up of a beast's body that possesses demons, a demon race made up of fairies or demons themselves. No matter what their birth, their ideology is the same.

　--Only under a greater one will there be a greater age.

　That's why they look up to demons and demons as their masters. Because they believe that's the way to happiness.

　This way of thinking is probably much purer in demons than in humans. It may not be a difference in intelligence, but just that they are more honest than expected.

　Looking down at the kind of demons and monsters he was glaring at, Drigman raised his finger in a relaxed manner. Then he spoke to the demon species at hand.

Are you ready? If there are any shortcomings, feel free to tell me. There are some things I don't understand.

　Verg, a demon with the lower body of a horse and the upper body of a powerful beast, responded to Drigman in a very gentlemanly manner.

　It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're looking for.

I can't say there are no shortages. First is the number of soldiers. It takes time for people to give birth, and people can't fight like we can. We need spears, swords, helmets and shields made of iron to make them serious.

　If we are going to go through the trouble of making people serious, it would be better to build up the army of demons and monsters, he said.

　Drigman agreed with him on this point.

　Of course, there are superior and inferior hexenbiests, as well as those of greater and lesser power. Some, like the man beside him, have wisdom, while others do not.

　But even compared to the lowest of them, man is too weak.

　He has no scales to protect his skin, no claws to cut down his enemies. To Drigman, we are so fragile that we could perish in the blink of an eye. He could only think of it as a flawed organism.

　It was too troublesome a creature to be used as an army, let alone to produce one. In all likelihood, the only way to live would be as livestock.

　But... Drigman's iconic eyes move wide.

　Yes, but we were once defeated by that fragile creature. We surrendered our dominion over the earth and were robbed of our glory. We must never forget that.

　Then we can correct our mistakes. Drigman bends his fingers lightly. The gesture was as if he were biting into something.

　The Verg said in a simple voice that while he could see the problems with his army, it didn't mean he couldn't fight. That's what he said.

　Drigman nodded and said.

"So, Verg. How much time have you spent? Do you know what it used to be like? ...... I'm sorry to ask. Have you ever seen me before?

　Drigman said, choosing words that sounded sincere and yet in control. Not that he liked that kind of language, but Drigman knew that those who were in charge needed to have the right words.

"No, we haven't met, Master Controller. I did not come into existence until more than a hundred years after the end of the Mystic Age.

　Drigman thought for a moment in response to Verg's words, "I see. The monsters and demons around him waited with a strange sense of urgency for the words of the demoness he was following.

　Drigman's mouth opened. The cheeks of Drigman's mouth open.

I'll tell you one thing. It's been a long time since we've been gone. It's not surprising that some of these people are mistaken.

　Drigman continues, even smiling. The hexenbiest buzzed with its fangs. I wondered what it was going to say.

"Listen. We're not going to invade or rob you. Let the race do its savage work. We'll just return as we should. That's what we call the high road.

　That's right. We're not savages like the race. We are not rude. We do not behave savagely, confronting our enemies with nothing but hatred.

　So let us trample them down with love. We will break their skulls with tears. With mercy in our hearts, let us wash away their filthy civilization.

　Drigman had one certainty in his mind. It was a mistake to have once allowed the human species any semblance of civilization or wisdom.

　Because of civilization, we have become subject to all kinds of chaos, and we have learned to fight. In the end, he finally turned on his master, the demon.

　It was a tragedy of the worst kind. Drigman understands. They don't need civilization or wisdom or anything like that.



　Then let's destroy them all.

　First, let's lose the written word. Then destroy the idea of tools and take away the idea of wisdom.

　Let the wise be exterminated down to their children. Let the good fools remain and continue their seed. Eventually all men, royalty and saints, will fall and even the word wisdom will be lost to them.

　It's undeniable love. Love for their happiness. What is there to gain by defying and resisting? What happiness is there?

　Obeying a powerful demon is the only happiness in this world. That's what the human species pathetically doesn't understand.

"Love them. "Let's love them. For that-- let's conquer. There's more water in my cup than I know what to do with.

　No one can stop me. As he says this, Drigman's big eyes look out from between his hair.

　Those eyes point to only one thing. The throne that was once the center of the world, once your property. The very glory stolen by the barbarians.

　Arche, the capital of the Garlist Kingdom. The most glorious city on the continent. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


　◇ ◇ ◇ ◇


　A piercing pain runs through the back of my head. The dull pain seemed to stick to the inside of my skull. My heart was beating strangely hot. My vision was still blurred.

　I wondered if I had drunk too much alcohol last night. He hadn't forced himself to drink it because it was his favorite honey wine. The act of defying nature will directly destroy the human body.

　When I managed to open my heavy eyelids, the sky was still dark. It would take a little more patience for it to turn white.

　No, the heat in my chest won't stop. You drank all the water yesterday. I thought I'd at least chew a cigarette, so I put my hand to my chest.

　Immediately my fingertips scream like they're burning. I raised my arm as quickly as I could. Something hit my fingertips, and it was hot.

　My eyes hardened. My skull, which had been covered with sleepiness and lassitude, became strangely clear without my knowing it. His cheeks twisted.

　--Two rings. The two rings that I had cut in half with my jeweled sword were heating up as if they had a will of their own.

　I don't know what it signifies. But I don't think it's a sign of happiness.

　I got a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling. A heavy spit crawled down my throat. What should I do? Should I smash it open with the jeweled sword again?

　Just as I was beginning to think about this, the door creaked open and rang. The voice of someone I didn't recognize. I could tell from the pronunciation that it was an elf.

　--Master Lugis. Sorry to disturb your good night. Mr. Elddis wants to see you. She says it's urgent.

　He nodded and grabbed the jeweled sword at his bedside. The sword also had a strange heat to it.

　I had a very bad feeling about this.