That evening.
I sat alone in the audience chamber, lost in thought.
"…………"
I could hear the steady sound of footsteps striking the floor.
Tracing the source of the noise, I realized it was my own feet.
I must have been tapping them unconsciously.
I stopped and clasped my hands together.
(How slow. What's holding them up?)
I recognized the growing anxiety in my chest.
I knew the reason.
Grom and the others still hadn't returned.
They were probably locked in battle with the Holy Staff Nation by now.
Half a day had already passed since they marched out.
Even if it turned into a fierce engagement, with two commanders on the field, it should have been settled by now.
The plan was for Grom to send a telepathic message the moment the fighting ended.
And yet, there had been no word from the interception force.
(Are they struggling? No—there are hardly any heroes they can't handle.)
The more I thought about it, the more my instincts churned.
Something must have happened to the Demon Lord's army sent to intercept.
Judging by the current situation, that was the only conclusion I could reach.
You'd be a fool to ignore your gut feeling in times like these.
It was always better to assume the worst.
This time, the Holy Staff Nation had made a remarkably bold move.
Regardless of whatever righteous cause they claimed, they had begun slaughtering en masse.
Had they never considered that not only would other nations condemn them, but they'd also earn the fury of the Demon Lord?
Even accounting for their hatred of the undead, this was clearly crossing the line.
They weren't idiots.
They should have known exactly how powerful the current Demon Lord's army was.
If they were truly so hopelessly foolish, they would have been destroyed back when the previous Demon Lord was still active.
I had a feeling they had some kind of scheme behind this massacre.
The Holy Staff Nation would never recklessly send their own citizens to their deaths.
They feared nothing more than losing face through defeat in battle.
Glorious victories and honor were the pride of the Holy Staff Nation.
(The Holy Staff Nation might be hiding something.)
Something they judged would be sufficient to stand against the Demon Lord's army.
For most problems, Grom and Henry's strength alone could break through.
Those two had already reached a level of combat power sufficient to handle an entire conventional army.
But this time, I couldn't shake the unease.
It was far too unnatural for them to send no communication whatsoever and fail to return.
During the day, I had been swamped with other matters and hadn't paid it much attention, but I should have noticed sooner.
(Just to be safe, I should go check.)
After deliberating for a moment, I made my decision.
It wasn't exactly a strenuous effort.
I would just use teleportation magic to see how things were going.
If they were conducting the battle without any issues, it would all be nothing more than my over worrying.
Luciana would probably tease me for being a worrywart, but that was fine.
I activated my detection magic.
I spread my consciousness toward the eastern part of my domain.
Along the way, I encountered resistance.
Concealment arrays had been deployed, rendering information within the range hazy.
Subtle tampering had been applied so that nothing would appear abnormal at first glance.
From here, I couldn't tell what was happening within the affected area.
That zone was right in the middle of a city.
The exact area where the interception force had been dispatched.
I scoured the surrounding region but couldn't pick up any trace of them.
Grom and the others appeared to be inside the city.
"…………"
I rose from my throne in silence.
My eyes fell on the crystal resting on a nearby pedestal.
Inside it floated the remains of that person.
I knelt before the crystal and addressed them.
"—I'll be borrowing this."
I gently took the keepsake sword that had been propped against the pedestal.
The blade that had slain both the previous Demon Lord and the current-generation Hero.
Countless threads of fate were tangled intricately within this sword.
It possessed no special abilities—nothing more than a famed blade—but I could feel something emanating from it.
(I should definitely take this sword with me.)
It was nothing more than a vague premonition, yet I was certain.
My very being as a Demon Lord was asserting itself.
It couldn't be the wrong choice.
In any case, I had to make my way to the interception force.
I activated my teleportation magic and probed the state of the destination.
Along the way, I shattered the dampening arrays and barrier traps, and teleported to the city.
The instant my vision shifted to the nighttime cityscape, a violent numbness seized my entire body.
"Guuh…"
I groaned and dropped to one knee on the ground.
It felt as though my skin were being scraped away by a heated knife.
My limbs were so heavy it was as if they had been cast in lead.
Holy magic.
The entire surrounding area had been blanketed in holy magic.
It was incomparable to the sacred energy of the World Tree Forest.
Despite output on a scale that would normally classify it as grand magic, it had been spread across a wide area.
At this rate, it might have been engulfing the entire city.
In any case, there was no time to stand around.
I used magic to create a protective barrier around my body.
The moment the spell activated, the evaporation of my bones subsided.
However, it didn't completely halt the damage—it merely suppressed the rate of purification.
Eventually, my body would crumble away, and even the marrow of my bones would cease to exist.
No—if only that were the worst of it.
As the holder of the authority of the Valley of the Dead, I could resurrect myself using another undead under my dominion as a medium.
But this holy magic was far too powerful.
In the worst case, it could damage even my soul.
I might fail to resurrect entirely.
In short, this was holy magic of an extraordinary magnitude.
It had undoubtedly been orchestrated by the Holy Staff Nation.
I didn't know anyone capable of wielding such advanced magic.
Could it have been ritual magic performed by multiple casters?
This clearly surpassed what a single individual could execute.
(Still, I can't imagine they prepared this much magic in such a short time…)
If I had thrown myself into an enemy stronghold built up over a long period, that would be one thing—but this was a city within the Demon Lord's domain.
The Holy Staff Nation could have occupied it for half a day at most.
That was nowhere near enough time to carry out ritual magic.
"S-Stop… them—"
A hoarse voice came from behind me.
Crawling out from behind cover was Grom.
His entire body was devastated, and his lower half was barely recognizable.
Of the eight arms he once had, six had already rotted away.
The purification was taking its toll.
"R-Run… please—"
Grom tried to warn me.
At that moment, a chain of light reaching from the distance coiled around his torso.
Its spear-sharp tip pierced through him effortlessly, pinning him to the ground.
Smoke rose from Grom as he lay face-down, motionless.
"Oh? Something weird showed up. Eh, whatever—let's kill it."
A strangely cheerful girl's voice rang out.
Almost simultaneously, more chains of light came flying at me.
I deflected them with the keepsake sword and turned my gaze toward the voice's owner.
At the far end of the city street stood ranks upon ranks of humans.
There had to be several hundred in my field of vision alone.
Including those stationed at various positions, the total number couldn't be fewer than ten thousand.
My still-active detection magic was picking up the presence of humans lurking all over.
They wore white military uniforms and were equipped with magical ornamentation.
The pattern of a flag bearing a cross emblem marked them as belonging to the Holy Staff Nation.
Standing at the forefront, apart from the rest, was a single figure whose appearance differed from all the others.
A pristine white cloak and a magnificent staff in hand.
Standing there with golden hair swaying, she wore a sadistic smile upon her face.