…Thud!
The 6th Demon King. Belial, the 'Worthless One'.
The sight of his massive head falling was something that the entirety of humanity in the past, countless great heroes, would have given their lives to see.
Vikir leaned back against the wall as he watched the demon's body die.
He narrowly avoided collapsing.
And as a result, he was able to watch Belial's final moments.
'...And with that, the brains of the Demon Coalition are gone.'
A long war between the demonic army and the human alliance.
Ages of destruction, when corpses formed mountains and blood formed oceans, before humans won a hollow victory.
Throughout these eons, the most tactically damaging being to the Alliance, and the one responsible for the most civilian casualties, has been eliminated: Belial.
With both Dantalian and Belial gone, the cunning minds that had sabotaged the Alliance, a weight was lifted from Vikir's shoulders.
"Hey, are you okay!"
Dolores exclaimed, rushing to Vikir's aid.
Vikir gave her a short look.
"Better than that. It's almost time."
"What? Time? What time... ah!"
Dolores suddenly realized.
She realized that she was in a huge vault and there was a limit to how long she could stay.
Pulling out a pocket watch buried under a pile of gold coins, Dolores sucked in a breath.
"The vault doors are about to open!"
The vault doors would open and the Bourgeois family's vassals and private soldiers who had been waiting outside would enter.
"As soon as the door opens, we're out. Be ready."
Dolores nodded at Vikir's words.
With the arrangements Demian had made, the troop deployment shouldn't be much.
But even so, they couldn't let their guard down.
After all, they were going to get inside the house, assassinate the patriarch, and get away with it.
"We'll have to make it a picture of me kidnapping you."
"Okay. It'll be easier for you to get away if you take me hostage."
As soon as the door to the vault opens, Dolores will have to run at full speed and not look back.
But there was one thing holding Dolores back.
"...."
She turned her head and looked beyond the pile of gold coins.
Where her gaze landed, she saw a white-haired girl standing still in the corner.
Sinclair.
She was staring into space with a blank expression.
Tsutsutsutsuts...
Belial's corpse melts away, emitting a terrible stench.
It disappears in an instant, as if it had never been here.
On the floor, where all the demonic corpses have spread out and disappeared, Bartolomeo's body lies dead, his whole body grotesquely contorted.
Bartolomeo's face is contorted in horror and pain.
Sinclair's hands continue to shake as she stares at him.
Then.
"Sinclair, wake up!"
Dolores grabbed Sinclair by the shoulders and shook her once, hard.
"That wasn't a Bourgeois patriarch, you saw it, it was a puppet for the demon to incarnate!"
"...!"
Then the light returned to Sinclair's eyes.
tagg!
She swatted away Dolores's arm around her shoulder.
"Stay away from me!"
"Sinclair, believe me, I swear to God, he's not human, he's a demon!"
Dolores said urgently.
"The doors to the vault are about to open. There are going to be tons of people coming in here."
"...."
"Come with me. I'll explain everything."
But Sinclair remained silent, her mouth clamped shut.
Dolores felt something strange in Sinclair's attitude.
Normally, Sinclair was a well-mannered and polite junior who followed her lead.
She was also a quick thinker and would never do anything to offend others.
But now, Sinclair certainly seemed different.
A demon she had never seen before had appeared, and the Bourgeois family patriarch had been manipulated to death.
Under these circumstances, wouldn't it make sense to leave the scene?
But Sinclair refused to join Night's Hound.
Dolores spoke one last, desperate time.
"Sinclair, it's dangerous to stay here alone...."
"Isn't it you who are in danger, if I stay here and tell you what I saw...."
But Sinclair was still uncooperative.
Her demeanor was strangely unflappable, despite her anxiety.
Then,
…Cha-chang!
Vikir stepped forward with his sword at full length.
Sinclair's gaze turned to him.
Vikir spoke in a blunt voice.
"Do as you please. I'm the one who killed the patriarch of the Bourgeois, after all."
"...."
"The saint was taken hostage by me, unknowingly. That's what the article will say."
Sinclair replied in a trembling voice.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"If necessary."
There was no warmth in Vikir's voice.
The coldness made Sinclair shiver.
'Go away. If you don't want to get caught up and die.'
It was the same voice she'd heard at the Academy's festival, the same icy chill that sent a shiver down her spine.
Vickir took a step forward, where Sinclair was standing stiffly.
"...."
Vikir stared into Sinclair's speechless face, lost in thought.
A man whose name was nowhere to be found on the lists of the Human Alliance when the Age of Destruction came.
Yet, in the memories of countless great heroes, she had been referred to as a 'genius', 'elite', and 'extraordinary'.
A mysterious girl who suddenly disappeared from the world after graduation and whose name could not be found anywhere.
Should she be kept alive, or should she be eliminated from the world?
Vikir's judgment and choice were rapid.
"Decide for yourself."
A voice crackled.
"What you will see, what you will hear, what you will believe."
It weighed heavily on Sinclair's heart.
She must decide what she will believe.
Just as Vikir is about to turn away.
…Thump, clunk, clunk!
The door to the vault was opened.
At the same time, a sound was heard.
"Aaaah! What kind of mess is this!"
"Ah, an ambush! Find the patriarch!"
"All forces to the vault!"
These were the cries of the panicked Bourgeois.
* * *
Quack!
With a loud explosion, Night Hound leaped out of the vault.
Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang! Jegrang!
At the same time, gold nuggets and jewelry of unknown value were scattered in all directions.
While the eyes of his pursuers with spears, arrows, and wands are drawn to the riches on the ground, Night Hound flees over the wall in a flash.
On his waist was the saintess Dolores, who looked as if she had fainted.
"Hey, I've been scolded! The patriarch is dead!"
"And even the saintess was taken hostage!"
"Hey, at this rate, we're all going to die!"
"Grab them! All troops to the outer wall! We have to save the saintess!"
"No touching! Anyone who touches the riches on the floor in the meantime will be severely punished later!"
The people of Bourgeois Family are quick to respond to the situation.
Among them is Demian, who has just returned to his family home from the Money Manufacturing Bureau.
Dolores opens her eyes slightly at the shouting behind her.
"Do you think we should leave Sinclair like that?"
Vikir only shrugs.
"She seems like a smart girl, I'm sure she can find a way to save herself, and if she does, we can just say she was out of it from the sleeping pills."
"If she even tells anyone about us...."
"No one would believe her."
Sinclair may be a brilliant genius, but she's just a newcomer to the Academy, a commoner with no backbone.
If Sinclair were to tell the truth about what she saw in the vault, she'd be labeled a madwoman, and she'd know that there would be nothing in it for her.
Just then, Vikir heard Decarabia whispering softly in his ear.
[Hohoho. I didn't think she was going to open her mouth, that white-haired girl].
"She's the kind of girl who would rather solve her own problems than rely on the adults."
[Did you ever think that such a personality would cause more trouble in the future?]
"I have a mind of my own."
Vikir rushed forward, gathering information about Sinclair.
"She still has a lot of use left in her.
A dry judgment. Understandably, it's for the best.
Vikir glanced down at the wall.
Truly strict vigilance befitting a tycoon.
It would be difficult to break through the crowds coming from all directions.
"This is goodbye."
Vikir lowered Dolores to the ground by the young madame's thread.
"Night Hunt ... No, 'Van', what are you going to do?"
"Just call it what you used to call it. And I also have a way out."
Vikir leapt down the wall, leaving Dolores with a worried glance.
Escape would be easy with the Ring of Andromalius, which could create subspace at any moment, but the cooldown has not returned yet.
So Vikir did the next best thing and put on a Picaresque mask.
Hack, hack, hack-
In the midst of their busy schedule, not many people paid attention to the black puppy carefully crawling around the corner under the outer wall.
* * *
Inside the vault.
Demian was the only one left at the scene where everyone else had fled.
He turned to Bartolomeo, who lay dead on the floor, and bowed his head in silence.
"... brother. What a mess."
The demon's body had already melted away.
Only Bartolomeo's body lay in a ragged heap.
For a man of so much wealth and power to be so miserable.
Now that things are like this, what good is all the money and treasures that form the mountains around us?
Demian sighed heavily.
He hadn't thought he could be surprised anymore after his daughter's soul wedding, but this was just too much.
"What's a demon and what's a gate. What the hell happened...."
Right then.
"It was you."
A sharp and cold voice came from behind.
It was sharpened like a dagger, stabbing Demian in the back of the head.
"The one who brought Night Hound and Saintess into the Vault."
At the words, Demian slowly turned his head.
Blue veins appeared on the hand holding the stilettos around his waist.
Then.
"...!"
Demian's eyes widened for a moment.
The hand that gripped the stiletto momentarily loosened its grip, and a voice trembled.
"...Juliet?"
His daughter, the one he'd sent off in tears, was somehow standing here with a cold expression on her face.