The summoned hero, Nobuyuki Sora, stood quietly beside the saintess, Isabel.
Isabel was visibly shaken—hands clasped, breathing shallow—just like everyone else who had watched the Murican video. Knights, nobles, court officials… none of them had been prepared for that.
But Sora's expression was different.
Tight.
Rigid.
The kind of stillness that came from panic being forced into a very small box.
What is happening…?
Why are demons using Earth technology?
No—worse—
Why are the demons not being the bad guy here?
His chest tightened.
If this keeps going… will I still be needed as a hero?
Will I become unnecessary?
Useless?
…Fuck.
Before the spiral could dig any deeper—
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
"SILENCE! SILENCE!"
Cardinal Corvus slammed his staff against the marble floor. The sharp echo cut through the hall like a blade.
The murmurs died instantly.
No one dared to test the patience of the man whose authority often eclipsed even the emperor's.
Corvus stood tall in white-and-blue robes that gleamed beneath the torchlight, immaculate and severe. Behind him, rows of Holy Knights stood in perfect formation—motionless, silent, statues carved from faith and steel.
"I understand," Corvus began calmly, voice resonating through the chamber, "that this… 'visual record' is unprecedented."
He paused, letting the word linger.
"But do not forget—this was presented to us by demons themselves." His gaze swept across the court. "Do not be swayed so easily by their lies."
A court official hesitated, then cautiously raised his voice.
"B-But, Cardinal… our spies did report events similar to what the video showed. The details… they match."
A ripple of uneasy murmuring washed through the hall.
THUMP.
"SILENCE!" Corvus roared.
The echo rang even louder this time.
"Yes," he continued sharply, "there may be some truth mixed in. That is precisely what makes a lie powerful."
His eyes burned with certainty.
"The demons—spawn of deception—know this well."
He turned toward the throne.
"I trust His Majesty shares my concern."
The emperor swallowed, fingers gripping the armrests.
"Y-Yes… yes, of course," he said quickly. "We must not simply trust the demons."
Corvus nodded, satisfied.
Then he turned.
His gaze locked onto Sora.
"And what is your opinion, O otherworlder hero?"
Sora stiffened. The sudden attention snapped him out of his thoughts. His heart pounded—but beneath the anxiety was something else.
Relief.
Someone was finally saying what should be said.
"I don't know much about demons in this world," Sora said, voice steady, "but where I come from, demons twist the truth to serve their evil desires."
Corvus's lips curved into a thin smile.
"And so our hero has spoken."
He glanced back toward the throne.
"And our king agrees."
He turned back to the court.
"That is enough."
With a snap of his fingers, a Holy Knight stepped forward. Without hesitation, the knight lifted the iPod from its pedestal and turned to leave—without waiting for approval from court officials, advisors, or even the emperor himself.
"I will bring this demonic tool to the basilica for containment," Corvus declared. "We do not yet know what corruptive effects it may have."
He began to walk away, then stopped just in front of Sora.
"And hero," Corvus said quietly, eyes sharp, "remember this."
He straightened.
"Grow your strength, quickly."
His voice then lowered.
"The demons have now tasted human blood… They will crave more."
---
Vandoria Capital, City of Vans
"Eewwww. They drink the blood and eat the flesh raw? That's disgusting. Bleekh."
"I know, right? This is exactly why I would never date any of those grunts."
Two succubi lay prone inside the bell tower of a church overlooking the city square.
Megan—short hair, binoculars pressed to her eyes—slowly scanned the streets below. Janet—long hair, cheek pressed against the stock of an MK22 sniper rifle—kept her scope trained on the gallows.
The capital of Vandoria spread beneath them like a lavish imitation of a 19th-century Paris: ornate stone buildings, extravagant balconies, and aristocrats dressed in layers of finery and entirely too much lipstick.
Today, however, the city square was packed.
A sea of citizens crowded around freshly constructed gallows and guillotines, their excitement buzzing through the air.
"My friend says the CDC is losing its mind," Megan said, stifling a yawn. "He's been working overtime for weeks because of that outbreak."
She lowered her binoculars slightly.
"Ugh. I miss home. I can't wait until this assignment is over."
"Don't worry," Janet replied calmly, adjusting her scope. "After today, we're going back. No more guys who wear more makeup than we do."
Megan suddenly stiffened.
"Oh—Janet! There they are!"
Across from the gallows, a raised scaffold had been built for the royal family. King Alphonse and Queen Colette took their seats, followed by Crown Prince Beau and Duke Louis, leader of the noble faction.
The king frowned, scanning the area.
"Where are Prince Adrien and Prince Alan?"
The butler bowed deeply, sweat visible on his brow.
"I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty. The second prince and the third prince have still not arrived."
"Tch," the crown prince muttered. "They probably partied too hard again last night."
Once the royalty were seated, the announcer stepped forward.
Behind him, the condemned were led toward the gallows.
A woman.
A young man.
And a young boy.
"GOOD CITIZENS OF VANDORIA," the announcer shouted, voice magically amplified, "BY THE ORDER OF THE KING, THESE CRIMINALS ARE THE FAMILY OF DUKE PIERRE!"
The crowd leaned in.
"HE IS GUILTY OF RECKLESSLY—AND WITHOUT ROYAL PERMISSION—ABUSING HIS POWER TO ILLEGALLY ATTACK A NEIGHBORING COUNTRY!"
The announcer pointed dramatically.
"TO PLUNDER! TO AMASS WEALTH! FOR HIMSELF AND HIS FAMILY! AND TO SATISFY THEIR GREED!"
The square erupted.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Duke Pierre's family tried desperately to shout their denials, but their voices were swallowed whole by the roaring crowd.
"Hmm," the king whispered to Duke Louis, leaning slightly closer. "Do you think the demons will be satisfied with this?"
"Well," the duke replied quietly, eyes still on the gallows, "we can only try. They claim to be a diplomatic nation, so we'll force them to act like one."
He adjusted his posture, voice lowering further.
"This will buy us time. Time to strengthen our military… and recover our reputation."
"Tch…" The king clicked his tongue. "I still can't believe other countries are calling us the bad guys. We were fighting demons!"
His hands clenched.
"And now I'm supposed to abdicate my throne because of it?"
"That is… truly an unforeseen event, my king," Duke Louis said carefully.
"Don't worry, Father," Beau said proudly, lifting his chin. "I will continue building a greater army. We will enslave the Ravendawns—and the demons."
The king glanced at him.
"You better be, son," he muttered. "You better be…"
Below, Duke Pierre's family was shoved forward by the executioner and forced to kneel before the guillotine.
High above, inside the church tower, the two succubi recorded everything with a handheld camera.
"Overwatch, we're sending visuals," Megan whispered. "Do you receive? Copy?"
"This is Overwatch," came the calm reply. "Visual is clear. Proceed with the mission. Over."
"Copy that, Overwatch."
Janet adjusted her rifle slightly.
"Hey," she asked casually, "what did you do with the third prince last night?"
"Oh," Megan smirked, "just some old-school succubus wet dream stuff, mixed with a dose of Rohypnol. Kekeke."
She tilted her head.
"He's not waking up anytime soon. You?"
"Me?" Janet said. "No wet dream for the second prince. I just spiked his drink at a bar."
THWAAACK
The guillotine blade fell.
"YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
The crowd erupted.
"Oh," Megan said calmly, watching through the lens. "It's about to start. Standby."
Janet cocked her rifle. "Got it."
The crown prince rose from his seat and bowed toward the king.
"Well, Father," Beau said, "I'm going to announce the succession now."
"Yeah, yeah," the king replied, waving him off. "Whatever."
The crown prince walked toward the front of the scaffold, positioning himself where the entire square could see him.
"Here comes…" Megan whispered.
"CITIZENS OF VANDORIA!" Beau shouted, arms spread wide. "TODAY, I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!"
He paused, ensuring the crowd's attention—
When suddenly—
"STOP HIM!"
A cloaked beastman burst from the crowd, sprinting toward the royal stage. He broke through the outer guard line, lunging forward—
Only for a guard on the stage to intercept him.
PSSSHT
A silenced bullet pierced the guard's skull.
The beastman didn't understand what had happened.
He only knew the guard was suddenly dead.
He didn't hesitate.
He ran straight over the collapsing body.
Reaching the stage, the beastman tore open his robe.
Strapped from neck to toe were hundreds of magical scrolls, layered and packed so tightly they looked more like armor than paper.
"DEATH TO TYRANTS!!" he roared.
"FREEDOM TO OSPELIA!"
KABOOOOOOMMMM
A colossal explosion swallowed the city square.
The Vandorian royal family vanished instantly—reduced to light, heat, and dust. Guards were vaporized where they stood. A number of unlucky civilians nearby followed them into nothingness.
The shockwave ripped outward, hurling people through the air and shattering windows across the district—including those of the church tower.
Megan and Janet ducked instinctively, shielding their faces as debris rattled around them.
"Holy shit," Janet coughed, ears ringing. "I did not expect it to be that big."
"Well, duh," Megan said, shrugging as she lowered her arms. "We never tested that many explosion scrolls at once."
The two succubi moved fast.
Equipment vanished into bags. Casings were wiped. No shell, no mark, no trace left behind.
"Overwatch," Megan whispered into the comm, already slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Mission complete. Heading to the evac point now."
"Copy that," Overwatch replied calmly. "Sir Asmodeus sends his thanks. Overwatch out."
With practiced ease, the two succubi shifted forms—horns fading, wings dissolving, features softening.
Moments later, two human nuns descended the church tower stairs, blending seamlessly into the chaos below.
They left the capital without anyone noticing.
Later Vandoria official investigations concluded that the assassin was from Ospelia, one of Vandoria's colonies.
They also uncovered evidence of secret correspondence between the assassin and a collaborator—an unidentified Vandorian prince.
---
Ravendawn, City of Dawn
Ravendawn banners rose along the Dawn city walls, unfurling one after another.
Soldiers and civilians worked side by side, clearing debris left behind by the brief but violent clashes between Ravendawn forces and the Vandorian city guard. Broken weapons were piled away. Barricades dismantled. Blood scrubbed from stone.
It had been a short fight.
The citizens of Dawn had turned on the Vandorian guards almost immediately—opening the gates from the inside and fighting alongside the Ravendawn soldiers.
Now, liberated citizens lined the streets, cheering as a royal carriage rolled into the city with King Luxtor and Levi inside it.
"It seems the people here still love you, Your Highness," Levi remarked quietly.
"…I abandoned them once," the king murmured, eyes fixed ahead. "I don't think I deserve their love anymore."
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Levi replied. "After this, they'll need someone to lead them through rebuilding."
The king exhaled slowly.
"But it won't be me. That is for the best." He paused. "Mr. Minister… what makes you believe the Vandorians won't simply rebuild their forces and return?"
Levi smiled, faint and knowing.
"Let's just say… they're very busy with family matters."
He gestured ahead.
"Oh—and look. Prince Luxius has been waiting for you."
At the castle steps, Prince Luxius stood tall, eyes bright despite the fatigue. When his father stepped down from the carriage, tears shimmered.
"Oh… my son."
"My King," Luxius said, bowing deeply. "I present to you the Castle of Dawn. As of today, the Ravendawn Kingdom is whole once more."
The king looked up at the familiar stone walls.
"This castle… the place where you were born." His voice trembled. "I never thought I would see it again…"
He nodded slowly.
"I gratefully accept your gift, my son."
"It is my honor, my King," Luxius replied, smiling.
The king's gaze drifted toward the horizon.
"This beautiful castle… this beautiful city…" He smiled softly. "Your late mother loved watching the sunset here—while holding you in her arms."
Then his tone shifted, casual.
"But, son, I ran into Duke Pierre while passing the city gate. Would you be so kind as to get rid of him? I believe we've had enough of his presence dirtying this beautiful city."
"Yes, Father," Luxius answered without hesitation. "I will order my men to remove his head from the pike immediately."
"Thank you." The king nodded. "Now then—shall we go inside?"
He turned toward Luxius and Levi.
"We have much to discuss about this new era… a democratic era."
Levi smiled politely.
"After you, Your Majesty. Your Highness."
---
Somewhere Near the Ravendawn–Vandoria Border
A long, miserable line of Vandorian refugees trudged toward their homeland.
Soldiers. Merchants. Their slaves.
Ravendawn forces allowed them passage—eager to be rid of them before the liberated citizens could take revenge—but confiscated their ships and valuables as they crossed.
A joint Ravendawn–Murica patrol oversaw the movement.
"Why aren't we rescuing the slaves?" a Ravendawn captain asked quietly.
Captain Irving of Murica's Rangers lit a cigarette, then passed one over.
"Too many," he said simply. "Feeding that many people would collapse your economy. Better for them to be Vandoria's problem than ours."
The Ravendawn captain took a drag, eyes widening slightly.
"More practical than a pipe," he said. "And… tasty."
Irving nodded.
"Don't worry. Soon you'll be able to buy it in your city."
He exhaled smoke.
"Real trade is coming between our countries."
The cultural exchange between the two militaries had been… lively. Ravendawn provided fresh meat and vegetables. The Muricans contributed cigarettes, beer, and various forms of entertainment.
"Ehm—although…" the Ravendawn captain coughed awkwardly, lowering his voice. "I must lodge a complaint. My men seem to be… overly occupied with these entertainment items called… adult magazines…"
"Ah… sorry about that," Captain Irving said with practiced regret. "Those are considered contraband in our military as well."
He paused.
"But you really can't stop the boys from sneaking them in."
Which was impressive, considering Irving was the one selling them for pocket money.
Nearby, PFC Bella and Ivy sat beside a mobile camera station. A ranger slowly panned the camera across the refugee line, screening each group as they passed, while Ivy watched the monitor intently.
Bella handed her a cup.
"Here. Coffee. No sugar."
Ivy took it and sipped. "Thanks."
"Are you sure you don't want something sweet?" Bella asked. "Like Coke? Or hot chocolate?"
"No, thank you," Ivy replied. "I was raised not to have expensive things like sugar. I'm not used to it."
Bella nodded, sympathetic.
"Hmmm…" She sipped her chocolate. "I still don't understand why you humans enslave each other."
She tilted her head.
"They taught us in school that it's horribly inefficient to employ people who aren't motivated to work."
"Heheh," Ivy smiled faintly. "I suppose our education systems are very different."
"You're rare, though," Bella said. "A slave as educated as you. Very different from the others I saw back in the DMZ village."
"My mother taught me," Ivy said quietly. "She wasn't a slave… not until the Vandorians came."
Bella's expression softened.
"Do you think she's still alive?"
"…Not likely," Ivy replied, frowning.
"Oh!" Bella winced. "Did I make you sad? I'm sorry—sorry. I'm still learning human emotions. Empathy and all that."
"Heheh, it's fine," Ivy said. "It's actually kind of funny… seeing demons trying so hard to understand other races."
"Yeah…" Bella nodded. "Our government decided it's better if every Murican learns about other races after opening the borders."
She continued, words tumbling out.
"Not every demon is born with the ability to read emotions like succubi, you know. I mean, I'm a vampire—we're the second best at it—but I'm kind of different. That's why I failed the intelligence bureau test and ended up joining the rangers, and you know what—"
Ivy smiled faintly, letting Bella ramble. Her chatter had been oddly comforting these past few days.
Then Ivy froze.
Something on the monitor caught her eye.
"Uh—excuse me," Ivy said quickly, cutting Bella off. "Can you show me the carriage from earlier?"
The camera operator adjusted the feed.
The image zoomed in on a luxurious carriage, its door marked with a carved family crest.
"That crest…" Ivy whispered. "I'll never forget that crest."
Bella stood instantly, weapon ready.
"Is that the one?"
"Yes."
Bella let out a sharp whistle towards Irving.
Every patrol teams snapped to attention.
Target acquired.