That was a time longer ago than a thousand years.
Dry grass snapped underfoot. Crows cried in the distance. A young Demon with ash-grey hair ran across a desolate wasteland.
He had fled.
Faced with powerful elven warriors and human monks, he had defied his orders and abandoned the Demon King.
"I see. So you have betrayed me, ■■."
He had long since forgotten what the King had called him in that moment.
Betrayal? What was betrayal? He had simply done what any creature would naturally do — he wanted to survive.
The King had fallen. His mind was still clear. And some inexplicable impulse from deep within had driven him to leave.
He succeeded. He lived. And yet there was no joy in his heart — no grief for the Demon King's passing either. Once he had confirmed he was safe, he simply wandered, aimless, with no destination in mind.
"Betrayal — what on earth is it, really?"
That day, it was as though he had vanished from the world entirely.
New Demon Kings were born, and then died.
History repeated itself with uncanny consistency.
Drawing on his duplicated magical abilities, he gathered spell after spell across the centuries. Power gave him confidence. He quietly re-emerged into the world, and followed that unanswered question wherever it led.
One day, he came across two treasure hunters in the middle of a quarrel.
"We found this treasure together! My share is in there too!"
"If you just disappeared, wouldn't it all be mine?!"
"You — you're betraying me?!"
Betrayal.
The Demon was transfixed by those words. He watched as one treasure hunter produced hidden mercenaries and slaughtered his companion before walking away.
Something that had lain perfectly still inside him stirred and began to beat.
The Demon King's voice echoed in his ears once more.
"Betrayal."
Humans. What fascinating creatures.
At some point, he had learned to laugh — and just like the human who had claimed that treasure, he burst into laughter right where he stood.
Using his duplicated Transformation Magic, he slipped in among the humans. He observed. He imitated. He tried to understand.
He disguised himself to seem like one of them.
What did it feel like when humans betrayed one another? The question began to fascinate him. And what should he have felt, back when he had betrayed the Demon King?
He began to play games with humans — and along the way, driven purely by curiosity, he orchestrated many betrayals.
Despair. Rage. Joy. Sorrow. He witnessed these emotions, studied them, and worked to make sense of them.
He understood perfectly well that it was, in the end, a clumsy imitation of humanity. The truth was, he didn't know when to show which emotion — he was only mimicking human behavioral patterns, nothing more.
The monks of the Goddess's Order said that betraying one's faith in the Goddess was an unforgivable sin.
The Emperor said that subjects must remain loyal to their sovereign forever — betrayal was punishable by death.
Humans treated betrayal as evil.
He had once rescued a monk, only to betray and kill him halfway through their journey.
"May the Goddess forgive you."
"This is a reaction I've never seen before. What are you feeling right now?"
"Poor lost soul — may the Goddess pardon your sins."
The monk closed his eyes in peace. It was the first betrayal that had ever made him unable to laugh.
"And the first time I've ever encountered a magic I cannot duplicate... I see. So I'm going to die."
Pillars and walls had collapsed on all sides. Craters pockmarked the ground. The palace that had once been resplendent and magnificent was now a scene of utter ruin — and like those shattered walls, the confident figure Wolf had cut just moments ago had crumbled to nothing. All of it had happened in an instant.
His vast Mana was dissipating. Half his body was gone. "Wolf" had lost consciousness entirely, and lay sprawled brokenly across the sunken throne. Even so, his gaze was calm as he looked at the unbeatable enemy before him, and his weakened lips parted slightly.
"At my current level of strength, the number of beings in this world who could defeat me should be countable on one hand. Just who are you?"
"Standing before you is a member of the Demon Race who has lived since the Mythical Era."
Nanoda put away her broken horn and let out a sigh.
"Really... why didn't you just say so sooner..." Hearing that answer, she muttered the obvious complaint — and then Wolf said nothing more, settling into a calm, knowing silence.
"Is there anything else you want to say?"
Nanoda regarded the dying "Wolf" with quiet detachment. He was the most troublesome opponent she had ever faced in all her existence.
"Do you forgive betrayal?"
This time, it was truly "Wolf's" last words.
"Depends on the circumstances. But more than that — fighting me alone, the way you did... it was less like you wanted to win, and more like you were looking for a way to die."
At that, "Wolf's" expression twisted — and he broke into a loud, savage laugh. The rate at which his body was crumbling and dissolving noticeably accelerated.
"Hahahahahahahaha! You really are a fascinating one!"
"After all these centuries, I'm tired, if I'm honest. In my view, the Demon Race is a tragic people — we can never empathize the way humans do. In human eyes, I was probably nothing more than a clown chasing after evil..."
Watching "Wolf," Nanoda let out a quiet sigh. It wasn't as though she had never crossed paths with this kind of eccentric before — and among her own companions in her past life, there had been a few who were even stranger than him.
The Demon Race was not without emotion. They simply had a poverty of it. When they developed an interest in something and formed their own ideas about it, they tended to feed on obsessive, malevolent impulses and grow strange and distorted feelings from them. In their own minds, however, the things they did and thought were simply the natural way to satisfy their own desires — never a matter of deliberate malice.
"In my view, even you — despite all the evil you have done — were capable of a certain kind of empathy. It was just too warped. Consider what's happening to you now your reckoning."
"Reckoning? I'm no member of the Goddess's Order... You really are different from every Demon I've ever met in this life. Dying at the hands of a new Demon King... not a bad way to go, I suppose."
"Wolf's" voice grew weaker and weaker. By now, everything below his shoulders had already dissolved away.
"I am not yet a King. At least — not yet..."
"Nanoda. I'll be waiting for you in whatever they call hell."
"Wolf" smiled. According to the teachings of the Goddess's Order, he would surely fall into the deepest pit of hell when he died. Perhaps he might even encounter that former King of his there.
"..." A moment of silence — and then Nanoda offered "Wolf" her final farewell.
"Goodbye, nameless Great Demon."
He had been a creature of stained history, purer in his wickedness than any common villain — and a formidable enemy.
Having offered that small but genuine measure of respect, Nanoda turned to leave.
"One last secret, before I go. That human called 'Yuna' — she carries the blood of the Imperial family in her veins..."
A bombshell dropped from behind her. Nanoda spun around in shock, wanting to ask more.
But all that remained of the Demon before her was half of one eye. As Nanoda watched, it dissolved completely into Mana particles — and the ancient Great Demon who had called himself "Wolf," a being who had lived for over a thousand years, vanished from the world entirely.
____
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