Ever since Raphael forcefully enacted the peace treaty, humanity and the demon race had been locked into a distorted sort of peace following the mutual demise of the hero and the Demon Lord, with their forces dissolving on the spot.
In the subsequent decade or so, Krisman Heracles, battle-tested by war, entered old age. Melrose always remembered Krisman as stern, seemingly disinterested in everything, yet he was undeniably an iron-fisted ruler. Supported by elite troops seasoned by campaigns with the hero, his decrees went unchallenged for over a decade.
After Krisman passed, his eldest son, Edmund Heracles, ascended the throne as the new king. Having closely observed Krisman for many years, Melrose felt exhausted and suggested retirement.
Of the five heroes’ squad, four remained, yet the atmosphere was always dampened without their linchpin—the hero. Despite Melrose maintaining a smile in their company, they all knew that Melrose, who only seemed middle-aged, was actually weary, so none attempted to persuade him to stay.
Melrose then settled in a forest in the southeastern part of the kingdom, constructing his Mikhail Magic Tower. There, he honed his casting abilities while discreetly working on reviving Helrista. His scarce outings were spent on three crucial tasks: academic exchange with other mages, gathering materials to advance magical research, and searching for ways to slow aging.
Two decades passed in this way, with Melrose's experiment progressing at a steady pace. Known as soul resurrection among the demons—an exclusive dark magic—this spell could bring back any dead entity that had once exhibited signs of life. However, those revived become part of the demon race and the spell requires a corpse (ghosts excepted). Thus, Melrose knew his endeavor was unprecedented.
It was during this period, surrounded by towering ancient trees, that the secluded magic tower received a letter bearing the signature of Edmund Heracles, king of the realm. He sought Melrose's return to personally mentor a group of prodigiously gifted magic apprentices, including his favored heir, Prince Leopold Heracles.
Melrose initially intended to refuse, but within the letter, Edmund revealed his impending death. After persistent negotiation, he successfully enticed the world-renowned elder mage with half the contents of the royal treasury as the price.
Thus, Melrose emerged from seclusion once more.
If one were to ask any of the old-timers over fifty on the streets of the capital, none would forget that astounding afternoon from their childhood when a magic tower flew across the sky.
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Twenty-something stories high and shrouded in black, when it appeared above the capital, spectators below could even see the dirt and twisting vines attached to its bottom half. The shock alone awakened the latent magical abilities in nearly ten children; most became Melrose's disciples, and some are still alive.
After Melrose took charge of the royal academy of secret mages and the prince's education, Edmund spent his remaining days paving the path for Leopold until his passing less than two years later.
Melrose witnessed the ascension of the second soul into the heavens, understood to be a king. Subsequently came the familiar narrative of a new king's rise to power.
As the young king grew, many nobles tried to curry favor with Melrose, their intentions hardly veiled. Surprisingly, the old mage exhibited no interest in power whatsoever.
When Leopold was nearing full command of the nation, Melrose retreated with astonishing speed, disentangling himself from a web of tiresome duties. He kept only a nominal post as the royal advisor before returning to his magic tower to focus on his experiments.
As his work delved deeper, Melrose became increasingly reclusive. If not for the monthly treasury inventory revealing a shortage in magical materials, many would've forgotten this name that had once echoed throughout the world.
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"What a story, ripe for a saga," thought Murphy to himself. After listening to Melrose's tale, he fell into silence. Ignoring how persistently this first-rate old-world warrior had pursued his love interest, analyzing the three reigning monarchs revealed a glaring issue—they had none. Krisman was hardworking, Edmund was relatively lax, and the current Leopold seemed to be taking after his grandfather. But what's wrong with diligence? Even drilling down into the history, the power of the hero was nowhere to be found. It couldn't be that a king, blessed with superhuman strength, would spend his days and nights tirelessly signing documents, could it?
After expressing his gratitude to his temporary ally, a well-informed Murphy set off for home.
The Mikhail Magic Tower stood less than a hundred meters in a straight line from the royal treasury. Years ago, at Melrose's strong insistence, a variety of trees were planted around the tower. Presently submerged in a modest forest, Murphy unabashedly teleported beside the rarely visited magic tower as he did on his way there.
Back on Clyster Street No. 2, Murphy gathered everyone to announce, "My friends, I have something to declare."
The atmosphere in the reception room was rather light. Partly because Murphy never put on a glum face and partly because the group was blissfully unaware of the events in the north.
"The hero has been born," Murphy stated plainly.
"Spit-take!"
Not a single tea made it to a stomach as everyone turned to Murphy, desperate for confirmation of the shocking claim.
"It's no joke." The Demon Lord sighed in exasperation, "It happened on the northern battlefield within the royal domain. The vibrations of the hero's birth have spread across the entire world. Generally, creatures above level ninety who aren't brainless should be able to feel it."