"But ......, my sorcerer!　We have never disobeyed our lord nor committed any crime!　How can you execute us?

　The head of the village, whose hair was mostly white, let out a croaky voice and said. It had been a long time since he had spoken so loudly.

　At any rate, the only time he ever shouted in this village was to scold a child for being a bit reckless.

　It was so peaceful and there were no rough times. There were only the humble days of living with livestock. One of the many Borvatian villages.

　To the old man, the sorcerer says simply.

The sorcerer simply says to the old man, "The weak are not worthy of living. ...... Since the sorcerer says so, we have no choice. No one can resist you now.

　The words were quiet. It seems that he has become accustomed to this kind of exchange. Now that the execution of village after village has been endorsed by the state of Borvat, there is no one who can stop it.

　As long as the power affirms it, it is not evil.

"No hard feelings, Elder. It's the way it's supposed to be. There is no place for the powerless anymore.

　As soon as the sorcerer spoke, the smell of burning assaulted the old man's nostrils. I've never smelled anything like it. A bad, bad feeling stuck in the old man's brain.

"...... No, no, no, no, no!

　A village on fire. The screams echoed aimlessly, and green smoke rose up. Cattle and horses were running away from the cattle sheds, the sound of hooves adding to the noise. The old man could see it clearly from his window.

The old man could see it clearly through the window. "You idiot, ...... this, this is the sorcerer, ...... why, why?

　Even the old man's feeble eyes could see that this was the beginning of something.

　The old man did not believe that what the sorcerer had said was true until he saw it. He wanted to think that it was a bad joke, even if there was no reason for it.

　But the sorcerer smiled at the old man with his clinging eyes and said.

"It's settled. There is nothing more to be done.

　The green smoke covers the village itself, indicating that there is no escape. Wherever you go, fire or smoke will consume you. Sight, smell, and hearing all gave me a sense of death.

　Borvat's sorcerers and soldiers watched on until the end. Some of the soldiers were hexenbiests and demons, showing how much demonic power had entered the country of Borvat.

　No, I don't know how much of a person the sorcerers are anymore. Are they really still people who continue to kill villagers in order to be loyal to the demons? There's no one to answer that question.

"How is it? Isn't that wonderful?

　The sorcerer spoke to the demoness beside him, sounding more familiar than talking to an old man.

　The bird-faced beast, probably a member of the sorcerer's family, replied with a click of its beak. His beak twisted as if he were smiling.

It's okay. My boss doesn't like weak people.

　If he, who is close to the sorcerer, is like this, there can be no mistake. The sorcerer patted his chest and lightened his shoulders.

　He continued to watch the scene with eyes as dull as lead, hating the smell in his nose. The same scene as always. The screams that continued to roar eventually sank underground, leaving only charred bodies that could not be buried.

　The small villages in the vicinity have been burned to the ground. It may be time to burn a large village. The witch will say that just burning them is lacking in flavor. We'll have to think of something.

　Just as the sorcerer was beginning to think that. The usual scene becomes slightly distorted. The sound of a fire raging was a blur.

　--A magic bullet runs, whistling in the wind. It engulfed the fire and tore down the burning trees.

　Next, thunder echoed around the area, destroying most of the burning houses and trees one after another, just like the magic bullet. Each time, the fire gradually subsided.

　A clear exercise of magic. Only a sorcerer could have done this on such a large scale.

　But there was no one in this nation who would use magic to save the villages anymore. The sorcerers and soldiers gasped, and the demons' eyes glittered.

　A voice echoed.

The Hind. Your savage magic can be useful at times. Why don't you join the fire department?

"Take it out, Eileen. I'm much more useful than your war magic.

　The two sorcerers were in the fading flames. A man of the Borvat dynasty would not have recognized them.

　The second-in-command of the glorious Borvat army, made up entirely of talented men. The ones truly called sorcerers.

　Amidst the scattered flames and green smoke, Eirene's voice rang out.

"Ah. Is that you? You are the bandits who are burning our villages despite being sorcerers.



　His voice is clear and full of emotion. A voice that is used to being wonderfully condescending. Trying to keep her usual tone, Eirene continued.

"It is the instinct of a sorceress to seek glory and power. I don't deny it. I'm not denying that, but to kill the people you're supposed to be protecting just for that - shame on you, bandits.

　I'm not going to deny my instincts. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm sure it's worth it.

　A large body with magic mechanisms on both arms. A symbol of Borvat. Mastighios-la-Bolgograd, the Mage General.

"Your first priority is to save the villagers. Do not make unnecessary sacrifices. Let those who rebel know what it means to be a sorcerer!

　The conquest was instantaneous. Their numbers and skill level were different. Even if there were a few magicians, they would not be able to resist. The generals who followed Mastighios were undoubtedly elite, and the only sorcerers left in the nation were the guards.

　This time, the sorcerers screamed and quickly broke down. They were not originally meant to fight. They were here to burn the village.

　And in the unlikely event that they came into contact with Borvat, or even the Mastighios army, they were ordered to evacuate immediately.

　Because their ringleaders knew that if they were coming, it would be here.

　On a hill not far from the village, one of them smiled as he looked at the distraught sorcerers and soldiers. The lenses of his glasses reflected the light.

It's here, it's here. But it's a pity. Good intentions are monsters, and if you don't tame them, they die!　I was smart enough to do that, wasn't I?

　Kiel-Bazarov opens his mouth, cursing. Kiel-Bazarov opens his mouth laughing and cursing, seemingly intoxicated with himself, or so he tells himself.

　Behind him, there is a line of soldiers and demons. These are all the first things Kiel has acquired since he gave himself over to malice.

　Oh, I was nothing before that, Kiel thinks. The title of "sorcerer" is useless. Every day I'm mocked for it.

　No matter how hard you stake your heart and study and work, if you don't have the gift of magic, you can't be considered a sorcerer.

　Days of toil and toil and toil. You try to find the right path, but you can't find it, and you find yourself lost in the distance.

　Is it unfortunate that I was born a sorcerer? Or is it a sin to have no talent?

　But even without everything, an opportunity has come to Kiel.

　The great Vriligant. The throne is tusked and the army is half destroyed. The generals and sorcerers of the Round Table, who had been at the top of the nation until now, could not even defy the demon.

　In any case, those who defied the demon disappeared from the city.

　And the more time passed, the more the obstacles disappeared. Mage generals left the country with their armies to follow the demons, and the main sorcerers were either killed or died out.

The main wizards were either killed or died out. "I was looked down upon as a failure, and all I did was struggle, and now here I am!　Watch me, General Magus. I'm going to show you that good intentions are just monsters that cause tragedy!

　And in the end, I'll take it all away from you. Clenching his fists and breathing hard, Kiel told his troops to advance.

　The demonic creature let out a loud roar as if to show its joy.