The huge sun shines on people's skin. Someone dripped sweat and moved their tongue as if seeking moisture. At that point, some of us finally began to notice.

　It's dead snow, but it's strangely hot.

　Suddenly, I look up in the sky. There was a cloud of dead snow sitting there as it should be, and a great ray of sunshine clearing it.

　Normally, this light is supposed to bring joy and blessings to people. But if you get too close to it, it is no better than poison.

　The fate of those who touch the sun is always certain. A destructive end or a monster.

　The pseudo-sun was slowly approaching the earth as people groaned from the heat. The water evaporates, the skin burns. There was no point in wondering what would happen if it fell.

　But when the heavens show their cruel side, the earth is bound to be hell as well.

　The voices of the soldiers echoed high in the air.

"All of you, don't stop, move!

　A threat had appeared before the soldiers, before the eyes of mankind.

　Crawling on the ground, devouring everything in its path, was the poisonous dragon of the demon Junerva. The poison extends from its arms and forms into a multi-headed dragon that crushes the earth.

　The dragon is a symbol of the madness that Junerva believes in. Junerva knows the mightiest dragon. Nothing could ever be consumed by it.

　And that feeling is still there. That's why she's still alive.

　A dragon floods and bottoms up a huge amount of magic and a part of the sandstorm. The astonishment of the sorcerer and the beast could be seen in Junerva.

　At the same time, a thunder spear pierced Junerva's left chest, and the sand tangled around her limbs. She couldn't help but laugh. I've seen something like this many times before.

　Killing a mage is hard work. Everyone seems to think they should try to catch them in the act. Only a few have been able to.

　But it was too late for anything else. It's all over now.

　--The great human sorcerer and the beast that failed to die die here.

　Junerva muttered in her heart. There may have been more loneliness there than relief. That desolation was close to the root of his being.

　Junerva couldn't help but like this feeling of someone who knew him, someone who was close to him, leaving him. Even if you have an unbearable hatred for them, they are born and fall.

　The death of the strong is always unbearable to watch.

　The poisonous dragon opens its jaws wide and shows its fangs. The drop that spills from it is poisonous to both humans and demons. If it bites you, you will die of course.

　And the two who were in attack position could not possibly intercept it. Even if they avoided it, Junerva would surely follow up and kill them.

　Even with the certainty, Junerva steered it with both arms. It's the moment when it bites off the necks of Mastighios and Dohasura, who writhe slightly.

"----!

　My vision was obscured. I don't know what happened. But without thinking, I swung my arms up and let the viper bite me. The feeling of flesh piercing flesh spread through Junerva's hands, but she was not sure she had taken a life.

　After a moment, her vision cleared and she saw what was hiding in front of her.

"Charge!　The true test of a soldier is here and now!　Prove you're not a coward!

　The soldiers who were lying on the ground on the left and right sides of the house, probably the magicians who had just unleashed their magic on Junerva, were also in the mix.

　I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm sure it's worth it.

　You idiot. You're insane. Junerva's eyes widened with ferocity. She couldn't believe that humans were attacking a demon.

　They weren't heroes, heroes, or demons.

　Filled with magical power, Junerva was a mass of poison that would melt away at the touch of a weak person like them. In fact, it is their crushed flesh and blood that hides Junerva's vision.

"What are you doing, what are you doing? You idiot!

　It was a heartfelt roar from Junerva. She didn't think a hero's battle with an old enemy could be tainted by such weak soldiers.

　Above all, I don't understand.

　Sure, there are plenty of people who would recklessly stand up to a demon. But there's no one who would come at you even after seeing the vast difference in power.

　Because they're just fools. And there were only fools here.

Protect your general, your comrades-in-arms!　We're the only ones who can!　Kill that viper!

　These men seemed to be dreaming. Their eyes were filled with such fervor that they almost forgot what fear was.

　It might have been a kind of runaway. They die in the vortex of the frenzy. More than half of them have already died. How many of them will survive?



　But as a result, the hero and the beast lived.

"No amount of gratitude will suffice. Humans have changed more than I thought.

　A large amount of sand grabbed Junerva's limbs. The eyes of the once supreme hexenbiest could not kill the demon, but they could temporarily capture him.

　The body is slightly eroded by the poison. Even so, he was still able to use his powers, which was quite impressive.

　And once the demon had stopped moving and exhaled its magic... He can approach.

"Majin Junerva. Let's settle this. You'll die with me even if my body is all destroyed. This is fine if you use the battlefield as a pillow with your soldiers.

　Mastighios grabbed Junerva's skull, blood showing in his mouth. The soldiers are still pointing their spears at the demon and shouting to be with their general.

　When things change, they change. Junerva muttered in her heart as she wailed.

　Junerva had never known a battle where a weak man stood up to a demon. Because demons do not do such things.

　The weak are for fleeing, for being scattered, for not even being a part of the stage.

　It is always the strong who Junerva lays his fangs against. That is why he loved the strong and hated the weak who ran away.

　And now those weak ones are on the stage, looking at him.

　So be it. Junerva mumbled, sighing as her skull was grabbed. The sand tangles around her limbs, and the tips of her soldiers point at her. No demon could enter the fray.

It's really ...... getting stronger.

　In a moment, a metamorphosis took place.

　Junerva's vision is greatly distorted. She felt a dull ache and a sharp pain at the same time, a sensation of pain in her mouth that she hadn't felt in a long time since she became a demon. That's not so bad, thought Junerva.

　The pain was a sign that these people, whom she despised and hated as weak, had become so strong.

　Even though most of his organs and blood vessels were malfunctioning, Junerva would not die. The magic connects his nerves and keeps him conscious.

　Junerva felt the warmth of blood on his body. There was no need to ask who it belonged to. Mastighios is already over the edge. He could have collapsed right there and then.

　Dohasura was the same. Even though they had lost control of their hands, they had not been able to avoid all the poisonous dragons.

　The human race, which seemed to have cornered the dragon, had no room to spare. If you can withstand this, your victory will still be secure. At this point, Junerva had rather regained her composure.

　Even if they could not endure it, they would die. With distorted vision, Junerva looked up into the sky.

　The pseudo-sun shone brightly.

　The source of his own. One of the deeds made possible by the divinity he had temporarily regained with the help of Gear Laboure.

　At first, Junerva wondered if it was necessary to put in such a reminder. But apparently it was necessary.

　After all, Lovell was always right. His words are never false and never treacherous. He deserves to be loved.

　And so, after a moment of relaxation, she saw it in her vision.

　--A too-long-ago bronze figure flying through the air, overlapping the sun.