[Host!!!]

Zalstrahvi closed his eyes as he sliced through the air. As his speed increased during the descent, the wind began to feel painfully harsh against his face, as if someone were repeatedly slapping him.

Yet once again he was smiling in the face of death.

This was what he wished for.

This was his goal all along when he plunged the entire world into war.

He couldn’t see the ground beneath him, yet he could sense its proximity, rushing up to meet him. A smile spread across his face, deepening with each passing moment as he welcomed the inevitability of his fall. The exhilarating thought of surrendering to death filled him with an unexpected serenity, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

In that fleeting instant, he found a profound sense of peace and fulfillment.

Finally free at last…

Craaack!! Splaaaat!!!

An indescribable crashing sound echoed around the bell tower. Passersby halted mid-step, their curious gazes drawn to the towering structure that loomed above the bustling street. They definitely had heard something plummet to the ground, yet their eyes saw nothing but the tranquil façade of the sacred edifice. Shrugging off the unsettling sound, most assumed they had imagined it.

However, they did not imagine it.

The Demon Lord laid prone on the cobblestone with black blood running freely from his head. The blood was supposed to be seen when using a normal invisibility spell; however, seeing that his invisibility spell was on the advanced level, no one was able to see the white cobblestone drenched in unholy blood.

Fingers stirring weakly, his eyes fluttered open amidst the intense pain in his head. The world was spinning and he felt one or more of his ribs broken. He tried to move his arms, but only the right one responded to his command. The left arm and both of his legs went kaput from the violent impact.

What he captured with his hazy eyes was the entrance to the bell, teeming with an endless stream of tourists, their cheerful chatter ringing like distant bells. Not a single soul noticed him.

“…why…” he groaned, the words escaping his lips as little more than a faint, pained whisper.

How come he was still alive when he intentionally sealed his power just before the impact?

[Host, snap out of it!!! Why did you do that?!]

A bluish square abruptly materialized before him, its edges pulsating with an anxious glow as the text inside danced chaotically. The window jumped about, disrupting his ability to read, yet he could sense the urgency in its frantic movement.

“…ah, this is it...” he murmured breathlessly, sensing that his end was near. The world was slowly turning black, his eyes could not focus on a single object, and all his strength vanished.

He allowed himself to bleed to death…

As he lay there, his body immobilized and unresponsive, an unexpected wave of tranquility enveloped him. It was a profound kind of calm that contrasted sharply with the pain he felt in his entire body. Time seemed to stretch as he surrendered to this feeling, allowing himself to embrace the sweet relief of death.

He closed his weary eyes…

===

Zalstrahvi woke up in a familiar place, his senses slowly awakening to the world around him. He found himself in a setting that was all too familiar—the same chamber where he had once been sealed away. The cool, stone floor pressed against his back as he leaned against a wall adorned with intricate enchantments that glinted faintly in the dim light.

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With a deliberate effort, he lifted his arm, bringing it into his field of vision.

They were intact.

His brown eyes traced the contours of his hands, fingers flexing and curling as he tested their functionality. As his gaze traveled downward, he noticed that his legs also had been restored to full health.

[Host, you’re awake!]

The system popped up beside him.

[I had to override your seal and control your body to heal you! Before the invisibility spell ended, I brought you here since this is the safest place I could find in my database! But it’s bad, Host! I fear that the spell ended just the moment we entered this chamber and your blood is still up there! It’s only a matter of time until this incident reaches the authorities!]

Ah, he remembered. He jumped from a tower bell in a suicide attempt and wrecked his body in the process. The powerful impact damaged his head, causing his blood to drench the ground like rain.

Anyone would know the meaning of black blood: the symbol of the demon race.

“…on whose authority did you control my body?”

The dim light in the room cast eerie shadows across his face, heightening the tension as he glared at the unresponsive window before him. For a moment, the screen flickered erratically, as if struggling to process the weight of his question.

“I asked you,” he repeated, this time with a hint of anger.

Finally, the system answered,

[It was based on my best judgement, Host.]

A deep, unsettling laugh erupted from him, reverberating through the vast chamber, its walls amplifying the sound into a haunting echo. He brought one hand up to mask his face, as if hiding from the absurdity of the situation.

“…will you disappear if I wish for it right now?”

[Unfortunately, I cannot until I fulfill your very first goal.]

He lost it.

Zalstrahvi stood up abruptly and punched the wall with enormous force, causing the ground to shake. His anger overtook his rationality as he rampaged in the sealing chamber while laughing in a uncontrollable manner. The system said nothing, merely watching him wreaking havoc.

Now returned to his demonic form, Zalstrahvi used both of his wingarms to destroy the storage room. With the way he moved and controlled his external limbs, he could not be called humanoid anymore. The dim light of the storage chamber cast his hunched figure in a monstrous form.

With each passing minute, his movement became increasingly erratic and so was his speech. The longer his anger remained unchecked, the more he raged about his superior status as the strongest demon lord, insisting that everyone should blindly obey him or be obliterated. The inhuman laughters full of madness that escaped his lips between his mad talk made him appear more insane...

In between casting high-level destruction spells and smashing walls with his wingarms, his humanoid arms kept fidgeting for no apparent reason and his reptilian tail swishing about randomly. This odd behavior could be due to extreme agitation or anger, yet the sight of him laying waste to the sealing chamber in his true, imposing form all the while fidgeting made the scene all the more frightening and bizarre.

At the same time on the surface.

“Status report, now!” a woman in her early thirties in a decorative white robe rushed to a meeting room. Five other individuals trailed closely behind her, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency.

“Yes, Saintess!” one of the priests, a bald man with a weathered face and trembling hands, replied, his voice tinged with anxiety. “We’ve detected an abnormally huge amount of foul mana underneath the temple! We are unable to gauge the power as it exceeds the capacity of our tools!”

“I’ll grant you the authority to utilize the best tools at our disposal,” the worry in her eyes betrayed her calm demeanor.

“But, Saintess,” the man interjected, “this is the most advanced tool available to us and as far as I know there isn’t anything more powerful than this!”

In a swift motion, the Saintess slammed open the heavy double doors with both arms. As she stepped into the room, she was met with the sight of several high-ranking priests gathered at a large round table. Their faces turned toward her, and they all stood abruptly in unison.

“Glory to the Goddess of Light and Luthernia!”

“Glory to the Goddess of Light and Luthernia,” the Saintess replied, settling into her position at the head of the table.

The air felt thick with tension, and the weight of her responsibilities pressed heavily on her shoulders…

“Pinpoint this foul mana immediately! Inspect purification results from up to three days ago!” one of the high-ranking priests commanded.

The Saintess bit her lower lip, her mind racing. Luthernia Temple housed numerous unholy artifacts from the warring era, all of which must undergo purification rituals in order to contain their cursed power. The weakest artifacts might need one or two purification rituals to cleanse its power, but it was different for an ancient-grade artifact that required continuous rituals.

Of course, not every purification ritual yielded a 100% success rate. Sometimes, despite their best efforts, the ritual may fail, causing harmful, cursed mana leakage that threatened the safety of the temple and the citizens.

“…but what is it now?” she murmured to herself. An enormous mana leakage of this caliber was truly unprecedented.

All of a sudden, she froze as if realizing something.

The corpse of the Demon Lord…