The physical difference between humans and demons is as great as that between humans and the divine. Demons are magical creatures, born of mana. Their flesh, blood and bones all originate from mana, which is also one of the reasons Reginn is known as the greatest demon slayer of the eons. However, this physique also allows them to connect with nature better, for nature speaks in magic. The world’s blood is magic. The demons — or more scientifically, the mana-based organisms — cannot survive for long periods in low mana concentration areas, for they need mana in order to achieve daily functions.
Near human societies, unless it is a special location such as a divine descension site, mana-rich forest or a magical ore mine, the people tend to soak up the mana naturally, storing it within their bodies. The civilizations have also used mana in many products such as potions, charms and seals, further depleting the resource. This does not concern humans much, as they do not require mana for life, on the contrary, high mana concentrations can be fatal for all carbon-based organisms.
In human population centres such as Cadra, it is difficult for a demon to live, and they may require an external source of mana, be it from potions, magical creatures or humans.
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It was just another ordinary day — or it had become one for Ayn. It was like the good old days when the hero was surrounded by numerous brave companions, unrivalled in the continent. His new team was the strongest yet — the Enlegion Silverguards — but it seemed that they had unlocked but a fraction of their true abilities.
“Ayn, would you like to join us for our practice?” asked Siege in a serious tone.
It seemed that everyone had loosened up to his presence in such a short period of time. He thought that Siege would’ve been the last one to become comfortable around him, for he was the calculating, careful, lone-wolf hero archetype, but in reality, it was Alveolo who was the most weary of him. Even as he entered the basement arena, Ayn could feel Alveolo’s gaze from somewhere.
At the duelling ground awaited Gallatin, Yuta and Mal, but Mal excused herself soon after noticing something.
Now was the perfect time for a 2 v 2. It was decided Ayn would assist Gallatin while Siege and Yuta would team up. Ayn knew that warriors bonded the most after an intense battle, the participants witnessing the exposed passion of their opponent, and connecting soul to soul in the process. The hero wished to know the feeling, but it was his fate to be relegated to the supporting role. It would be foolish to become a C-tier damage dealer, when he could be an SSS+ tier support, and he had always done what the others wanted him to do, but what did he want?
He would ponder the question of when peace befalls Avangarden and its people. For now, he needed the serve the nation faithfully. This was a kind of sacrifice, one only he could make, but perhaps someday, he would be freed of the shackles.
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“Ah!”
Alveolo immediately covered the left side of her face after Mal surprised her with a cold can of coffee. Coffee. Canned. Two words which should never be together in any sentence except ‘coffee should never be canned’.
To Alveolo, coffee was not simply a means to an end, but an art like all cooking. Like baking, like painting. There were a myriad of tools to choose from and ingredients to choose from. Innovation is hidden in every corner. Chocolate? Vanilla? Perhaps even powder milk?
On the contrary, canned coffee was a means to an end. How boring.
“Heh, I saw you peeking at Sir Ayn a lot back there,” said Mal, “feeling jealous or something?”
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“...No, just being alert. It’s strange how Siege accepted him so quickly, but if he’s lowering his guard, that just means I have to raise mine.”
“Or… maybe he’s just good at telling good people from bad,” said Mal, “Anyways, want some coffee?”
“...Fine.”
After handing her the can, Mal took a seat next to her. From here, the two could overlook the arena through a window. The practice area was a cube, with over a hundred thousand individual censors to track various information in order to maximize efficiency while training. Alveolo thought that perhaps this was the reason Siege invited Ayn to train, in order to gain more information, but he seemed to be having way too much fun — or so she thought. She couldn’t really tell with his mask on.
Mal’s soft smile slowly perished as she prepared to confront Alveolo.
“...So are you going to tell him about it soon?”
“...”
“He deserves to know, you know?” said Mal, “He trusts you, and you can’t just betray that.”
“Look, I’m already burdening him so much, you can already tell what he’s going to do if I do tell him, can’t you?”
“Even still… You’re just going to hurt him more, the later you tell him.”
“...I wish I was born human…”
“...”
No matter how much the government preached the equality between the demonkind and humankind, Mal wondered if true reconciliation was possible. Some thought that demons were closer to monsters than humans, but wasn’t the opposite also true? Humans were closer to beasts than demons. It is known that demons have many innate evil desires, specific to their species, but humans also have those carnal desires as well. Perhaps this was the consequence of intelligence, having to realize one’s crude imperfection.
But this was different — only Alveolo knew. She left the half-empty coffee can on the chair before leaving, she couldn’t finish it after all.
Mal had seen many adventurers come and go. It’s almost always tragic, and happy endings are one in a million. Every time someone embarks on a new adventure, they are gambling their life, and someday fate will inevitably catch up, no matter how strong you are. All happy endings end in retirement — all others are bad endings. She sighed as she wondered why she was here still. She could retire now if she wanted, especially with the sponsorship fund from the royals, but no. Her goal was to help as many people reach the happy ending before she reached her bad ending — retirement just wasn’t for her.
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A dark room with a single light. A mass of paintings awaited Alveolo. A secret room even Siege wasn’t allowed in — at least he promised anyway. However, his promise was much stronger than any lock or deterrence, for he was a man of his word. Such honesty only pained her further as she continued her piece. Which number was this? She first began with numbers for titles for organization and chronology — 1, 2, 3, 55, 74, 144, 6884 — but as she continued, she kept giving them names instead, as if the words were escaping from her — Lilies, Thank You For The Meal, Plates, Wings.
Not only the names but the pieces themselves. They were escaping from her. This wasn’t recreational, rather, it was more so that she puked out these paintings, or else she would become sickly from suppression.
Each piece was more horrific than the previous, and all were reflected in her mind. It disgusted her, her filthy thoughts and impulses. However, she could not bring herself to destroy these paintings.
She had to be completely sober while painting these pieces, it was almost an obsession. It had a horrific beauty to it only a demon could see — it was delicious.
Alveolo knew that blood was only for supplements, but she couldn’t help but begin to enjoy it recently.