The very peak of the sage’s tower was, in a way, even taller than the world tree, and yet at the same time, it was deep, deep down inside the planet’s core.

As the place that housed the assistant to the world’s core system, there was no particular need for the tower to obey the laws of physics, after all.

At the centre stood a structure that might loosely be described as an altar, though it was no doubt decorative. Being who she was, there was no way the great sage would need something like an altar to exert her power on the world.

On that altar lay a young girl leaking peaceful sleeper’s breaths, hair of gold and skin of silk.

Standing next to the altar, at the girl’s head, was a man in military garb with mismatched eyes—the demon king himself.

“Then, I’ll get started now, Asty,” the great sage said, stepping forward. She had once more traded her sleeprobe for her uniform.

“Very well.”

The great sage made a motion as if praying, though it was clear from her expression that she was doing anything but. In a language long forgotten to the annals of time, she spoke.

[https://i.imgur.com/ncSUwpg.png]

Gently, she traced her fingers across the saint’s chest, then made a pulling motion. After it followed a small ball of blue flames. There could be no doubt as to what that was.

The girl’s soul.

As though embracing a beloved pet, the great sage cradled the soul in her arms. “Go ahead, Asty,” she said, gesturing to the saint’s body. “If you kill her now, she won’t die.”

“Aye.”

The demon king stepped closer, caressed the girl’s cheek, and—

“[Darkness-Attribute Magic: The Reaper Beckons].”

Brain functions ceased, and the girl was dead. Just like that.

“Ah, you’ll wanna reanimate her asap, or you might be too late,” the great sage said, bringing up something rather important at a relatively late time.

“In that case… [Light-Attribute Magic: Reversal of Death].”

Unlike the spell’s name suggested, this spell could not normally bring back the dead. It simply restored the body’s functions. If it was used on a dying person, certainly, it would prevent their death—but a dead person would remain dead. All that would be gained would be a living corpse.

The pigment in her hair faded—presumably, the same was occurring under her eyelids.

With a decidedly careless movement, the great sage stuffed the girl’s soul back into her chest.

And then, slowly, the girl’s eyes fluttered open. Her eyes, now red as blood. With a drowsy gaze, she looked at her white hair a moment, then at the man standing over her.

“Good morning…”

“Aye. Good morning, Remiel. How do you feel?”

“A little… weak. Like someone stole all my power.”

“Well, I suppose I did. The Aspect of Healing… no, the Aspect of Restoration, is it? Well, I will cut you a deal and give you back some power in return.”

With a kiss to her forehead, she joined the ranks of those he had blessed.

The Vampire Princess Knight, who would give her all to protect her Lord.

The Witch Empress, who was gaining more and more magic at a frightening pace.

The Imperial Red Dragon, whose destructive force would only go up from here.

The Demon Slime, who was well on the path to achieving a true sense of self.

The Devil of the Scales, who had acquired abilities not unlike a Judgment Devil, but manyfold more powerful.

Indeed, they had all evolved after receiving their lord’s blessing.

And now, the former saint joined their ranks.

No longer quite human, but not corrupt enough to be called a monster. With her body in a weakened, easily influenced state, she accepted the entirety of the blessing and ended up internalising it.

A God-kin. That was what her status decreed her to be—aye, that was what the world had decided she was.

So what, then, did that make the person who gave her that power—?

What level of power had the demon king attained——?

As a symbol of her growth to a God-kin, her hair and eyes were stained in his colours. Rainbow-patterned eyes like a gorgeous prism and hair the colour of dark, corruptive miasma.

Normally speaking, the effect of a blessing would moreso be based on the one receiving it than the one giving it.

But in this case, that did not hold.

His feelings towards her leaned overwhelmingly in one direction—

The desire to protect.

To protect her from all the evil in the world.

Thus, her new power was stained with that sentiment.

A body that would take no damage, no matter what. Magic that could protect those she held dear. She was loaded with several skills to that effect.

Offensively speaking, she had nothing—but on defence, she was unmatched.

She was reborn.

With innocent glee, she threw her arms around his neck. Reborn or not, her insides had not changed.

***

“Now, then. I do believe it is about time for us to leave. She will have made her move by now…”

The demon king’s words immediately sent a regretful, but understanding look onto his sworn friend’s face.

“Well, alright… Be sure to come visit again, ‘kay, Asty? I’ll prepare suuuuuper-tasty tea for you, so!”

“Hmph. I will be looking forward to it, Cy.”

He was about to turn on his heel, but stopped himself.

“Ah, yes, I have been meaning to ask… If you want to be with us so badly, why not just move your tower? I am sure you could put it inside the castle, or perhaps at walking distance.”

“Theoretically, sure, but… y’know, practically, that’d be ‘taking sides’, which I’m not allowed to do. It’s a different story if you manage to win, though!”

“In other words, if I can manage to become the ruler of the world…”

“I’ll move my tower and come live with you guys♪”

“Heh. Do not think I shall let you renege on that promise.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

A haughty smirk on his face, the demon king left the tower.

His goddess would not be able to join them for the return trip. The only reason she was able to appear at all was that the entire tower functioned as a sort of makeshift Thousand Throne.

But, well, he would be reunited with her at the castle, so it was not a big problem.

***

To describe it in a few words, it was a victory march.

The capital of depravity, the centre point of Eskaria, the hub of demonkind—

Indeed, the scene was set in Pandemonium.

The one, singular part of planning in the entire city’s design was its location. It was placed west of the goddess’s castle, so that Heroes coming from the Holy Astal Kingdom would not come into contact with it.

Other than that, anyone could tell at a glance that not a shred of thought had gone into any of it. Roads that spread out like a tangled web, houses built over and underneath those roads—indeed, several important buildings required one to follow the road over someone’s house, or perhaps underneath.

If one were to say it embodied the demons’ individuality, then that was that, but…

To put it in different words, it was a scene of pure chaos.

Amidst that chaos, rows upon rows of soldiers were lined up, as orderly as they could be.

On their banners they proudly displayed the goddess’s crest, and the crowds of ordinary folk lined up on either side cheered them on—indeed, this was a triumphant return.

Normally speaking, these kinds of victory marches were held in the conquered nation… but, well, the demon king had already had a parade there, even if the participants were undead monstrosities, not to mention this march had another function.

And thus, now they marched.

Normally speaking, the army was a disorganised mess. This aspect of it was so consistent one could even see it as a strength.

But the exception to that was events like these.

After all, the entire army existed for the sake of the demon king and the goddess. So, to please the two of them with events like this, they would truly give their all.

And thus, the soldiers marched. The ones who had faces wore proud expressions on them.

Step, step, step, step.

From every side, the soldiers were assaulted by cheers and applause. Indeed, this had been the nation’s first real military operation in a long time, and it could hardly have gone any better.

Since the army was originally this nation’s to begin with, there were no flag-bearers, or any such thing—nay, that kind of responsibility had been left to the citizens, and indeed, many of them were hanging from the windows, waving flags around.

Somewhere around the middle of the parade was a contraption one might call a palanquin. Yet where a palanquin was meant to carry only one person, this currently held a fair few.

The demon king, observing his citizens with some manner of fondness.

The Marshal of Destruction, for once wearing a dignified expression—rather a contrast with her usual giddy grins. Her wings were bigger than they ever had been, and at the end of her tail rested a sharp spike.

The Chief Magical Researcher, who looked, on one hand, like she was deep in thought, and on the other, like she could not wait to get home. On her forehead, mostly hidden by her hair, sat a third eye.

The Head of the Special Forces, who had for once traded away her lascivious fiction in exchange for observing her surroundings. On her head sat an additional pair of horns.

The National Treasurer, who was sticking even closer to her Lord’s side than usual. Appearance-wise, she looked much the same as ever.

The National Mascot, who seemed to have a more sophisticated look on her face than was the norm. Spots of purple intermingled with her existing turquoise colour.

And then—

The demon king’s bodyguards, standing on his either side. His pet, by his feet. A group of three former humans—his little sister, a headless knight and a living shadow—stood closeby, too. On his shoulder sat a little spirit.

Indeed, it was far beyond the limits of a normal palanquin. As for who was carrying all this—

An entire array of Living Armours stood on the ground, in front and behind, to lift the thing. Indeed, they alone were enough war potential to destroy a small country, and here they were, carrying a group of people.

Living Armours, after all, were the ideal soldiers.

Inexhaustible. Knowing nothing but loyalty, they would never stop. They needed no supplies, and knew no such thing as ‘morale’. No matter how many were defeated, they would simply press forward. To add, tactics used against conventional knights were hardly effective—even if one were to jam a weapon into one of their joints, they would not feel pain and thus would keep fighting. Even if one managed to hack a Living Armour’s arm off, it would just keep fighting with the other.

Fundamentally, tactics used against armoured knights relied on bypassing the armour and wounding the knight beneath, so they were completely useless if there was no knight beneath the armour.

Although they may not seem like much on the surface, mass-produced Living Armours were a force to be reckoned with. Aye, every single one was at least fifth-grade.

Some of them had even evolved, into Magic Armour Knights, or Spirit Armour Knights, or other, similar things, and were thus sixth-grade. Stronger than Heroes.

The demon king was the strongest piece the black army could ever have hoped for—but even without his involvement, they were still overwhelmingly powerful. And with their new, improved way of creating magic stones, they would only get stronger.

The ability to treat magic stones as expendable—ah, the wonders she could produce under those conditions.

In the midst of all the revelry, one squadron of Living Armours approached the palanquin. From the crests on their armour, they were not a part of the army proper—nay, they were part of Pandemonium’s security force.

As they approached, the demon king took notice. He waved the Marshal close and whispered something in her ear.

She nodded, stepped forward, and let her voice resound, audible all the way from the front to the back of the parade—

“All soldiers, at attention!”

At once, the march stopped.

With another hand gesture from the demon king, the squadron of Living Armours was allowed up… Well, not exactly. The palanquin had multiple levels, after all—they were to stay on the lowest.

Once more, the Marshal’s voice resounded, though it was only intended for the squadron this time.

“His Highness grants you permission to speak.”

The Living Armour at the front of the squadron saluted and, in a resolute voice, declared—

“Your Highness the Prince of Darkness, Astaroth Eskaria. I am hereby placing you under arrest for subversion of the state.”