If you pull the right strings, a puppet will dance any way you desire - WhiteRose
—
Spade Kingdom, Throne Room
In the grand hall, Samyaza and Dante sat side by side, casually sprawled on the pair of ancient thrones as if they were theirs.
Loyce's old throne—the one Dante had shattered to dust just two days ago—was now mysteriously, purposely restored, with Samyaza making himself comfortable.
The two looked at the pair of magic projections in front of them, smiling in unison as they prepared to watch a grand show—only to pause.
Beneath their thrones, a circular bluish spatial rift with cross-like edges opened up, and from it stepped Zenon.
Dante raised a brow in curiosity because his little brother wasn't alone. Bones protruded from Zenon's body, carrying something. Not something—someone.
A person.
A bloody, mangled, bruised, and battered person, wearing a torn white lab coat and dark-tinted glasses that obscured their eyes—well, some of them. Part of the eyewear was shattered.
Bones returning to his body, Zenon dropped the bloody figure onto the marble floor like trash, fully revealing a man with short blonde hair.
The man didn't so much as moan in pain—he was out cold.
This was, naturally, the mage scholar Morris Libardirt.
Dante's brows furrowed further, and he was about to voice his confusion before Zenon spoke first, looking up at Samyaza coldly.
"I brought this crippled trash, like you asked of me. Now, will you mind telling me why?"
Samyaza smiled disarmingly. "Relax, my child. I promise the crip beneath you has some worth and value. Quite a bit of it, actually—as long as he's kept on a leash and constantly reminded of his place in things."
Zenon's cold exterior darkened in annoyance. "What is that supposed to mean—"
"No rush." Samyaza cut him off with a raised hand before his features softened. "All will be explained in due time. For now, let's all enjoy the show together, shall we?"
Snick!
Before Zenon could retort, Samyaza snapped his fingers. Once again, Zenon and Dante felt a strange disorientation, but not from being transported.
Rather, the room itself—where they stood—morphed and remolded, changing into something different.
Now, there were three golden thrones, each adorned with comfortable cushions. Instead of sitting on a pedestal at the end of the hall, they were all centered in the middle of the room around an exquisite circular table.
The three of them each sat on a throne, equidistant from one another, forming a perfect triangle. In front of each of them were a pair of screens showcasing the battles in Heart and Diamond.
The only thing that hadn't changed was Morris, who continued to lay in his spot on the cold floor like trash no one cared to pick up.
Dante and Zenon blinked, then turned their heads to Samyaza.
The fallen angel's gaze was fixed on the screens in front of him. He didn't look up, merely smiled brighter, and absentmindedly spoke aloud.
"Watch and enjoy. We can talk later."
The Zogratis brothers each ground their teeth but remained silent, observing the unfolding battles in such casual comfort that, strangely, made them uncomfortable.
—
Diamond Kingdom
High above the Diamond Kingdom, in the stratosphere, the colossal, bulky Ancient Demon charged forward at Edelstein, traversing the seismic chunk of floating earth like it was nothing.
Edelstein stared the three-eyed monster down coldly before snorting as his grimoire flipped again.
A ginormous orange-brown phantom-like silhouette took form around the six-foot Diamond King as he outstretched his arms to the sides and parted his mouth.
"Earth Creation Magic: Embodiment of Atlas!"
Edelstein's mana spiked outward in a manifestation of brilliant might as the incorporeal silhouette surrounding him solidified into something physical.
Edelstein briefly glowed, causing the charging Ancient Demon to pause ever so slightly before the light faded, revealing him—or what the Ancient Demon instinctively thought was his opponent—anew.
In place of Edelstein stood a titan, towering over a mountain, matching the monster before it in sheer size.
But compared to the Ancient Demon, this titan possessed a divine grandeur and aura.
It was a light-brown, rocky, undeniably toned behemoth, with six-pack abs sculpted to perfection. The titan wore brown steel shackles around its ankles and wrists that strangely added to its image.
Its veins pulsed orange, its overflowing rocky hair and beard matched that color, and within its empty eyelids, a mighty gold glow flickered again and again.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The humanoid titan smacked the top of its chest with its left fist three times, rhythmically, as if rallying a war cry—or invisible morale—to the people watching in awe from below, before wordlessly charging forward at the Ancient Demon.
The Demon smiled devilishly—pleased, ecstatic, yet seemingly crying in sorrow—as it resumed its stride to meet the titan head-on.
Within seconds, both colossal beings crossed dozens of kilometers, soon entering striking range of each other.
The Ancient Demon shot its lower arms—the ones naturally protruding from its sides—forward, while the chained titan mirrored its actions.
Crack!
Hands locked with hands as the two colossi began pushing and pulling against one another's arms, both standing their ground, slightly hunched over, leaning into each other's faces.
The earth cracked beneath their feet as the mana exploding out of them cleared and parted the air, scattering the clouds.
Neither was willing to give an inch as they continued to wrestle—until the Ancient Demon made a move.
The Ancient Demon had four arms.
So naturally, it would use them.
Its upper arms—the grotesque pair sprouting from its shoulder blades and pointing skyward—twitched and vibrated, their hands clawing downward, aimed at the titan.
Then, they swiped down, pressing the chained titan's shoulders.
The chained titan showed no emotional reaction as it was forced onto one knee, pushed back, its rocky body bending and cracking under the pressure.
The Ancient Demon wasn't done. Its black wings began sucking in the ambient mana around it, corrupting it into something negative. A swirling ball of destructive energy started to form in its maw.
The same maw that was currently pointed downward, point-blank at the kneeling, struggling chained titan.
It was a slow process—Edelstein's mana zone prevented any of his own mana from being siphoned and fought for control over the ambient energy.
But the danger escalated by the second as the sphere of chaos grew larger, rounder, more defined.
The Ancient Demon was poised to fire at any moment, its mouth parting wider and wider.
The sphere of chaos began to condense in its jaws as its lips curled, almost as if preparing to blow out a candle—except this would be a beam of destruction.
Snap!
Just as the beam escaped its mouth, the demon's head snapped backward. Several spiky teeth cracked to bits as the attack was forcibly redirected, shooting straight up at a ninety-degree angle.
All across the world, people were greeted by the sight of a streak of malevolent red, outlined in black, piercing the sky like a beacon that illuminated the continent.
The beam of destruction tore through the planet's orbit, exiting the exosphere and obliterating any cosmic rubble or rift in its way.
"Rawwwr!!!!"
The Demon let out a furious cry of pain as its three eyes flickered downward, struggling to comprehend what had gone wrong.
Though its intelligence was primitive, it understood quickly.
Just as it had two additional arms, the chained titan beneath it had sprouted its own—a similar rocky, muscled pair over its shoulder blades.
And with its new left arm, it had delivered a brutal uppercut.
The chained titan's eyes glowed bright gold once more. It didn't give the demon a chance to reorient itself.
Shooting to its feet, pushing the demon off balance even further, the chained titan wound all four arms back, its veins pulsing orange, before throwing four simultaneous punches.
All aimed at the exact same spot.
The center of the Ancient Demon's abdomen.
Its supposed core.
One could hear it. One could feel it.
The sound of ribs snapping like twigs from the blow.
"Augghh!!!"
The Ancient Demon let out another cry of pain as it was sent flying backward, skipping like a stone across the floating earth, tearing up the landscape with each impact.
Every roll, every thud, every skip—each was accompanied by a moan or grunt of pain as the behemoth dug its claws into the earth, trying to skid to a stop.
Yet, it continued to roll.
And the chained titan showed no mercy.
It dashed forward like a seasoned sprinter, chasing down its prey. As it ran, its new arms dematerialized into orange motes of light, and in its right hand, a weapon materialized—a hammer.
A massive, dwarven-style war hammer with dual square faces and sharp pointed edges curving inward, sitting atop a long golden-brown rod.
The chained titan spun the hammer as it closed the distance.
The Ancient Demon's rolling slowed.
And the titan leaped.
A forty-five-degree angle, skyward.
The ground cracked beneath its feet from the sheer force.
Mid-air, it stopped spinning the hammer, gripping it tightly with both hands above its head. Then, it swung downward as its body began its rapid descent.
The Ancient Demon, lying painfully on its side, slowly rolled onto its back to shoot up—
But then, the shadow.
A colossal silhouette obscured the sunlight, engulfing it whole.
Its pupils dilated.
For the first time, fear marked its face.
It struggled to rise.
Too slow.
And then—
The hammer struck.
Chack!
A grotesque, wet sound splattered out as the demon's face caved inward, bloating for a second before exploding into a bloody mess of brain matter and gore.
Bam!
The chained titan landed firmly on its feet, standing over the corpse of the Ancient Demon—now missing everything above its neck.
The sunlight cast the titan's shadow over the monster's remains, its eyes flickering gold once more.
Beneath the floating battlefield, the people of the Diamond Kingdom—the few survivors and stragglers—cried.
Tears of joy.
Tears of relief.
And then, they began to chant.
Edelstein's name.
With pious, zealous fervor.
—
Moments Before, Heart Kingdom
The lanky Ancient Demon, now pushed back to where it had first emerged—just outside the Heart Kingdom's protective barrier—slowly got to its feet.
The fear on its face morphed into outright fury and indignation toward the saintly, priest-like middle-aged woman shooting toward it like a blue streak.
"Grrr!!!"
The demon growled low, stretching out all four arms and rapidly condensing a sphere of chaos in its palms.
It didn't wait for the sphere to stabilize, didn't care to perfect it—just fired the attack like a laser beam straight at the incoming Heart Queen.
"Hmph!"
Queen Isolde snorted in derision at the monstrous beam, which easily engulfed her figure several times over. Casually, she pointed her golden staff toward the incoming attack.
Golden sigils swiftly manifested at the tip of her staff, arranging themselves into a tetragram pattern centered within a magic circle as the Heart Queen parted her lips indifferently.
"True Water Magic: Saint Pungus Aquae!" [1]
The Heart Queen's overflowing water dress and halo-like aquatic floral wreath pulsed a deeper shade of blue for a moment. The array at the tip of her staff expanded, growing as large as the incoming beam.
Then, from the array, a graceful, slender hand—made of real, natural water, augmented by the terrifying mana reserves of both the Heart Queen and Undine—shot forward in a fisted motion.
Like a powerful right hook, it tore straight through the beam of chaos, parting it like it was nothing, and charged unimpeded toward its target.
More and more water exploded from the array, elongating the hand into a full arm, nearly a kilometer in length. Then, the hand opened its palm and swept forward in a single, fluid motion.
"Augghh!!!"
The lanky demon roared in pain as it was swatted away like a pesky fly.
Though its intelligence was primitive, it raged in fury, feeling utterly humiliated—yet helpless. That same burning sensation crawled across its body once more.
The power of a Saint could purify devils, and Ancient Demons were nothing more than knockoff devils. Even used casually, the Heart Queen's Saint-Stage abilities were the demon's natural enemy.
It was powerless.
Suppressing it was as effortless as a child playing with a toy—or an adult handling a child.
The Ancient Demon's skin burned red, veins and muscles tensing and constricting over and over as it was swept further and further away by the sweeping hand—like dust before a broom.
It was hurled through mountains, forests, canyons, and more.
Bones cracked, blood burst from its writhing, burning skin again and again, until, at last, the Heart Queen's attack reached its limit.
The sweeping hand froze in place—then fell apart into drops of water so pure, even the cleanest stream couldn't compare.
The lanky Ancient Demon was now a dozen kilometers away from where it had stood just moments ago.
"Grrrr!!!"
It growled again, weakly rising to its feet, knees cracking under the strain—before suddenly freezing, its head snapping upward.
A wriggling, swirling mass loomed above, casting its figure in shadow.
All three of the demon's pupils dilated at once. Instinctively, its jaw slackened.
Above, the Heart Queen stood on a floating cloud of water, her blue eyes as deep as the ocean. Cold, merciless, she gazed down at the demon as if it knelt before her. Her golden scepter rose high above her head.
At its tip, an astronomically large golden array manifested, stretching wide enough to rival the size of a village.
And above that array—above her, above the demon, above her entire kingdom—hung a swirling sphere of water so vast it seemed to reach the heavens.
Then, the sphere began to change.
Its form twisted, refined, and soon took the shape of a crystal-clear beast: a steed with the upper half of a horse and the lower half of a fish.
Seaweed-like hair draped over its neck. Brilliant scales shimmered along its body. Fins flared outward, gleaming like polished jewels.
The lanky Ancient Demon shot to its feet, frantically condensing another sphere of chaos.
"How useless."
Queen Isolde sneered in a whisper, slowly pointing her staff downward at the demon.
"This time, rest for good, you filthy beast."
"Raggghh!!!"
The Ancient Demon roared in fury, its wings beating frantically, working overtime to perfect the sphere before launching a beam of devilish chaos at the Heart Queen's spell.
As the blast neared, a voice rang urgently in Isolde's mind.
Isolde—
I know. Time to end this.
She cut Undine off, parting her lips to chant a spell like a death sentence.
"Mana Zone Full Release + True Water Magic: Saintly Steed of the Sea… Charge forward, Nelphie!"
The seahorse's eyes pulsed blue. Then, it opened its jaw and let out a war cry.
"Neigh!"
Like a thunderbolt, it shot downward—rushing toward the beam head-on.
Just like the water hand before it, the seahorse tore through the blast as if it were nothing.
But unlike the water hand, it didn't merely cut through. It absorbed the attack, purifying the chaotic energy, feeding off the destructive mana as it charged.
Growing larger. Faster. Brighter.
The Ancient Demon blinked in despair as its monstrous opponent grew to an unfathomable size—towering over everything, a titan that dwarfed nations.
It wanted to move. To run, to fly, to dodge, to evade.
But it couldn't.
An invisible pressure pinned it in place.
And the seahorse was far too fast.
"Boom!"
The seahorse bulldozed through the demon without mercy, incinerating it into motes of dark flesh and scattered light before exploding into an ocean's wealth of water.
A flood consumed the entire region.
The neutral territory's strong magic zone was submerged beneath crystal-clear liquid, wiping out entire ecosystems, drowning countless magical beasts in an instant.
Perhaps, as the ruler of a kingdom that revered natural mana—treasured it, sought protection under it—Queen Isolde should have felt guilty. Apologetic.
But she didn't.
Instead, she exhaled softly.
"Phew."
Gracefully, she closed her eyes, then opened them again with a quiet chuckle.
"See? I told you I could handle it."
Inside her mind, Undine's voice came swiftly, concerned.
I know you can, Isolde… but that's not the problem here…
Isolde's brows furrowed, emotions flickering across her face. A sigh slipped past her lips.
"I'm human, Undine. Just like all the others you've been partnered with before. My time is limited… Truthfully, I should've gone much earlier, if not for that accident forcing me to live on…"
No verbal response came—only a wave of melancholy, sadness, and regret seeping into her thoughts, carried through her bond with the great spirit of water.
Isolde bit her lip, then let out a weak, fleeting smile.
"Whatever. Let's not bring up the past right now."
She stretched, rolling her shoulders lightly.
"Saint Stage is almost up, and I really don't feel like walking home… I didn't bring my broom."
Her smile softened—genuine now, warm with fondness—as she turned to face her kingdom, barely more than distant dots on the horizon.
The silhouette of a small girl appeared in her mind, causing that smile to stretch upwards further.
"Let's go see how our little Lolopechka is doing, alright, Undine?"
Still, no words came in response.
But this time, something else flooded Isolde's mind.
Joy. Relief.
She smiled.
Only to freeze.
Her pupils shrank, dilating in sheer terror.
Disbelief struck her like a hammer.
And then—like clockwork—her body moved.
Spinning on her heels.
Forehead damp with sweat.
Heart pounding.
—
A Moment Ago – Spade Kingdom
In the dimly lit throne room, Dante Zogratis lounged on his grand, golden throne, bathed in the eerie glow of two floating screens before him. His emerald gaze flickered over the scenes playing out—the decapitated remains of one Ancient Demon, the complete obliteration of the other.
His lips curled in blatant disgust.
A waste. A disappointment.
His tongue clicked in irritation as he sneered.
"Tch. How useless."
No one responded.
Dante leaned back into his throne, crossing his arms as he kicked his feet up onto the round table before him, utterly unbothered by the silence in the room. His gaze remained locked onto the fading images.
"The supposed Ancient Demons can't even manage to wipe out a single nation?" His voice dripped with scorn. "The weakest two, no less?"
A rhetorical question—one that no one bothered to answer.
Zenon, seated nearby with his usual impassive expression, merely glanced at his elder brother. Dante didn't bother acknowledging him, his attention instead shifting to the silent figure seated across the room.
Samyaza.
The fallen angel sat in stillness, watching the scene unfold as though it were a play of no real consequence. Dante's sneer deepened.
"This," Dante drawled, gesturing lazily at the screens. "This was supposed to be a grand spectacle? This was supposed to bring me joy?" His tone sharpened. "The sight of our likely future enemies casually disposing of two of our greatest assets?"
Samyaza remained quiet.
Dante's irritation flared. He lifted a hand, jabbing a finger at the fallen angel.
"I really hope you were lying about me being your descendant, because if this level of weakness and incompetence runs through your blood—" his voice dropped into a growl, "—then I'd rather not have a single filthy trace of it in my veins."
Finally, finally, Samyaza reacted.
A sigh. A helpless, casual smile. A slow shrug of his shoulders.
"Child, child, child." The fallen angel's voice was patient, almost indulgent, as if speaking to a petulant toddler rather than a warlord. "You never do learn, do you?"
Dante's expression twitched.
"If anything, this should please you." Samyaza spread his hands. "After all, a game is only fun when there are multiple players. Strong, competent players."
Silence.
Neither Dante nor Zenon spoke, but the air in the throne room shifted—their devilish mana spiked, thick with displeasure. Shadows deepened, walls cracked and shook as their mana pressed down on and suffocated their surroundings.
Samyaza rolled his eyes in exaggerated dramatics, his lips curling into a faux-wounded pout. "My children, you wound me so. To think I hadn't predicted this?" His voice took on a mocking lilt. "This scene was arranged. We are merely at the climax."
His fingers tapped lazily against his knee as he reclined slightly. "I still have a few goals that I'd like to see met today," he mused. "And your two elder brothers—" his gaze flickered toward the screens, unreadable, "—will help us achieve them."
Dante and Zenon exchanged a glance. Confusion flickered between them.
Then—a shift.
Samyaza's entire presence changed.
The playful air vanished, replaced by something heavy. Somber.
His lips parted, his eyes flickering between countless shades and colors, narrowed slightly as he studied the battlefield.
"I don't particularly enjoy deceiving my own blood…" he murmured, almost to himself. "But that woman… she was better than I thought."
His grimoire floated beside him, pages flipping open on their own, his body encased in a swirling aura of deep purple-grey. The throne room darkened ever so slightly, the air thickening with something ancient.
And then, his voice rang clear.
"The gate of the underworld is now open."
Dante stiffened.
Zenon inhaled sharply.
Samyaza's eyes didn't waver from the projections. "As such," he continued, "you two are now free to use your full power."
Then—
Snap!
A single flick of his fingers.
Dante and Zenon froze.
For a brief, fleeting moment, they were certain they had misheard.
Then—they felt it.
Their bonds with Lucifero. With Beelzebub.
The shackles that had bound them, the limitations imposed by the closed gates of the underworld—
Gone.
Raw, unrestrained power surged through them like wildfire.
It was intoxicating. It was overwhelming. It was—
Gone.
Just as quickly as it came, the surge vanished.
Ripped away from them in an instant.
Dante shot to his feet, heart pounding from the loss, hands shaking with lingering phantom sensation. That power—!
Zenon's gaze snapped toward Samyaza, cold and sharp, but his fingers twitched at his sides—reeling.
Dante's breath hitched as he jabbed a finger at the fallen angel.
"W-what d-did you—H-how did you—?!"
"Child."
Samyaza's voice cut the question off, before it could even be fully voiced.
Dante froze.
The fallen angel still hadn't moved. His eyes remained fixed on the floating screens, utterly indifferent to Dante's outburst.
"Like I said," Samyaza murmured. "The show isn't over."
A pause.
Then—his lips curled, just slightly.
"Watch."
A beat of silence.
Then another.
Dante and Zenon, still tense, slowly—almost hesitantly—turned their eyes downward. Back to the projections.
And then—
They stiffened.
Their breath caught in their throats.
And slowly, ever so slowly—
A smile spread across their lips.
Wide. Shaky.
Devilish.
Dante collapsed back onto his throne, chuckling under his breath. Zenon followed suit, sinking into his seat, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
Their eyes gleamed.
Their fingers twitched.
Excitement. Anticipation.
The real game was about to begin.
And this—
This was going to be fun.
Or so they thought.
—
Diamond Kingdom
The chained titan loomed over the fallen corpse of the decapitated Ancient Demon, its massive form still as the echoes of battle settled. Then—
It tensed.
Without hesitation, the titan sprang backward, leaping several hundred feet in an instant. The ground where it once stood cracked beneath the force of its retreat, dust and debris rising in its wake.
Its empty eye sockets burned with an even brighter golden glow as it watched.
Something was wrong.
The grotesque, mutilated corpse of the Ancient Demon—its headless, broken body—was floating.
A shroud of purple-gray mana engulfed it, twisting and curling like spectral hands pulling it upward. Strange runes spiraled around the corpse, shifting and pulsating with an eerie resonance. The symbols—familiar ones—mirrored the esoteric summoning circle where the demon first fell from over the kingdom.
And then—
It glowed.
The tattered remains of its body pulsed with unnatural energy. The shattered fragments of bone and flesh twisted, mending. Sinew reknit itself. The remnants of brain matter coalesced, reforming into a grotesque, perfected imitation of what had been lost.
The Ancient Demon returned.
No—not returned.
It was greater than before.
Its mass had nearly doubled, and with it, its mana swelled—violent, untamed, and ever-expanding. The very air vibrated with the sheer force of it.
Its features, once monstrous, were now sharper. More grotesque. Its form had been refined into something even further from humanity—its flesh a testament to raw, devilish evolution.
This was no longer a mere demon.
It had ascended.
The chained titan craned its head up, its massive body creaking as realization slowly dawned on it.
The three-eyed monstrosity loomed over it now, its gaze dripping with derision and vengeance.
It remembered.
And it promised retribution.
Behind the demon, a black dark circular disk, like a corrupted moon formed, as the monster's oppressive spiked further.
From below, the titan could hear it—his people.
Screams.
Cries of terror and despair.
For the first time, the chained titan sighed.
And then—
It spoke.
A voice, low and cold, emotionless and indifferent, seeped from the titan's maw. A voice devoid of warmth, stripped of hesitation.
"Gnome."
Not a second later, another voice—smaller, lighter, almost childish—responded from within.
"Heh. See, see? In the end, you needed little old me. You should have just asked the first time…" The voice yawned lazily. "I just fell asleep, you know…"
The titan's expression didn't change.
Edelstein didn't respond.
He didn't have to.
The shift had already begun.
The chained titan's mana, once a solid orange-brown, began to darken. A metallic sheen bled into its glow, rich copper and gold twisting within its aura.
Then—
Its power spiked.
Violently.
The titan's form began to expand—larger, larger, larger—until it was once again eye-level with the monster before it.
The two colossi locked eyes.
A moment of silence.
Then—
They both threw a right hook.
Fist met flesh.
Fist met face.
The air cracked from the sheer force.
The battlefield shuddered.
It was time for Round Two.
—
Heart Kingdom
Queen Isolde trembled.
Her breath was ragged, her body wracked with exhaustion, but that was the least of her concerns.
She could see it.
The Ancient Demon—the very same one she had blasted apart, reduced to less than nothing—had returned.
Bigger.
Stronger.
More oppressive.
More dangerous.
From demon to devil.
Its sheer presence weighed down on the world like a creeping storm, its grotesque body rejuvenated, reformed, resurrected. It had regenerated from nothing, and not just returned—ascended. It loomed over the battlefield, a monstrous specter of vengeance, its very existence mocking her efforts.
And she—
She could do nothing.
She had nothing left to give.
Her body, her magic, her time—it had all run out.
She was old. So old. Once, she could have fought this battle for hours. Once, she could have handled Saint Stage as effortlessly as breathing.
That time had long since passed.
Even a decade ago, she could wield her full power for far longer.
But now—
She had expended everything in her earlier battle, throwing all she had into slaying the beast before her time limit ran out. She had fought knowing she had no second chance.
And yet—here it stood.
And Saint Stage was undone.
The flawless, radiant woman she had been mere moments ago was gone.
What remained was her true self—
A hunched, wrinkled figure, frail and mortal.
Her limbs shook, her skin sagging with age, her body heaving as she coughed—blood spilling from her lips.
The pressure of the devil's presence alone was crushing her.
She was only still standing because of Undine.
The Water Spirit's magic cradled her within a fragile sphere of water, shielding her from the worst of the oppressive aura.
But even that wouldn't last.
The protective barrier wavered, its surface rippling, straining under the weight of the devil's overwhelming force. At any moment, it would burst, and she would be left defenseless.
Undine herself had shrunk—her once graceful, towering form now half of what it had been. The spirit had burned through her mana in the last battle, leaving her weak.
And worst of all—
She had no host to amplify her power.
No contractor to wield her strength.
Alone, she was helpless.
If she and Queen Isolde had faced this devil at their full strength, they could have killed it effortlessly.
But now—
It was infuriating.
It was unforgivable.
It was pathetic.
It was hateful.
The sheer rage coiling within Queen Isolde made her bite her lip, hard enough to draw blood, as she glared up at the mocking colossus before her.
The devil smirked.
She snarled.
"Wipe that smirk off your face, I'll kill you right this moment—"
Her words were cut off as a violent cough wracked her body, another mouthful of blood spilling from her lips.
She staggered, her vision blurring—but the hate in her eyes remained, unfading, unyielding.
Not wasting a second, she reached out through her mental bond.
Undine, leave my grimoire and go to Lolopechka. I'll finish this beast off with a forbidden spell—
A sharp voice cut through her mind.
Isolde.
The Water Spirit's voice was gentle, but firm.
Lolopechka is only six. She doesn't have a grimoire…
I can't go to her.
And there is no one else in your kingdom who can host me right now.
Queen Isolde froze.
A mistake.
A simple, obvious mistake—
And she had missed it.
She let out a weak chuckle, shaking her head. "Seems like my old age is really getting to me. I made such an oversight."
Undine said nothing.
And the devil began to move.
Queen Isolde exhaled slowly, then reached out to Undine once more.
Then simply end your contract with my kingdom—
I refuse.
Queen Isolde's breath hitched.
She clenched her fists, gritted her teeth—before sighing.
Arguing was useless.
They both knew it.
The devil's massive form loomed closer, and Queen Isolde's body—so fragile, so weak—began to shake.
She spoke one last time.
Then, Undine—please die with me.
A soft, joyful laugh echoed in her mind.
And then—
A whisper.
Of course.
Queen Isolde pushed herself to her feet, her limbs trembling, her breath shallow.
Undine manifested behind her, shimmering weakly, her form flickering with exhaustion.
Their cloud rose, lifting them skyward once more—ready to face the demon again.
And then—
They froze.
A new wave of despair crashed over them, suffocating, inescapable.
Because the Ancient Demon—
Didn't even acknowledge them.
As if they were no longer a threat.
As if they were nothing.
It simply turned its head, looking past them—toward the Heart Kingdom.
And then—
It began to charge another orb of destruction.
But this time—this time, it was different.
Behind the demon, an apparition appeared.
A blackened sun—
Corrupted. Malignant. Twisted.
It burned like a dark omen, its presence feeding into the growing orb.
Black flames coiled around it, searing, writhing—
And just looking at them made Isolde and Undine feel like they were melting.
The heat, the pressure, the sheer wrongness of it all—
It filled them with something far worse than fear.
Defeat.
Because they both knew—
Even if they gave everything, even if they burned through their very souls—
They could not stop that attack.
At best, they could divert it.
And only once.
Tears of frustration welled in Isolde's wrinkled eyes, spilling freely down her cheeks.
Her voice broke.
"Does the heavens want my kingdom to fall—?"
"Maybe."
A voice—familiar, calm, impossibly casual—cut her off.
She froze.
Her head snapped to the side, eyes wide, heart lurching in her chest.
Undine jerked beside her, both of them staring in shock.
A man stood there—
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a long, regal black fur coat.
His messy black hair ruffled in the wind, a single green patch at his side.
Dark golden keys hung from his form, glinting faintly in the dim light.
He stood on the air beside them, arms crossed, watching the demon with the air of someone observing a mildly interesting problem.
Casually, he scratched his chin, eyes following the growing destruction with a flicker of interest—before turning to Isolde with a gentle smile.
Her breath hitched.
Her vision blurred.
"C-Conrad?!"
The name tore from her throat in a hoarse rasp.
She coughed, choking on her own breath, before staring at him—incredulous, disbelieving.
"W-what are you doing h-here—w-wait, that doesn't matter! Are you here to help?!"
For a moment, Conrad Leto simply smiled.
Then he tilted his head.
"That depends."
His voice was light, almost amused.
"Will you give me what I want?"
The warmth in Isolde's chest turned to ice.
Her body tensed.
Her brow furrowed.
"…What is it that you want—"
"Now's not the time to act stupid, Isolde."
His voice was sharp now, cutting.
His smile faded, his gaze darkening.
He raised a hand and pointed.
To her kingdom.
To Heart.
To the home she had ruled, protected, and loved all her life.
"Wait a moment longer," he said, voice cold, "and Heart—along with your precious granddaughter—may no longer exist in the next few seconds."
His eyes flicked back to the Ancient Demon, still pouring power into its orb.
"Although I have to deal with that thing… I don't need to do so before it deals with Heart."
Silence.
Cold. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Isolde's hands shook.
Her fists clenched.
Her nails bit into her palms.
Her kingdom.
Her people.
Her granddaughter.
She swallowed, lowering her head.
Her voice was quiet, but resolute.
"…The Heart Kingdom swears to sign a full alliance treaty with the Clover Kingdom. We will open our borders to our southern ally."
Like nothing had happened, Conrad's smile returned, bright and effortless.
"Naturally," he said lightly, "I'm here to help. I can't sit back and watch an ally of my kingdom fall, can I?"
Isolde ground her teeth, her head still bowed.
A whisper.
"Thank you."
A promise.
"Heart will forever be in Clover's debt."
Conrad's smile widened.
And then—
He moved.
A streak of black shot into the air, cutting through the sky like a blade.
The Ancient Demon froze.
Its orb—growing, writhing, consuming—suddenly stalled.
Because it had felt it.
A threat.
A new force.
One that deserved its full attention.
The 27th Wizard King, Conrad Leto, has joined the battle.
—
Spade Kingdom
Samyaza watched.
Silent. Still. Unwavering.
His gaze stayed fixed on the exchange between Isolde and Conrad, his expression unreadable—
But his eyes—
His eyes burned with something cold.
Something calculated.
Something inevitable.
He watched as the Heart Queen—
Lowered her head.
As her hands trembled.
As she surrendered.
And then—
Samyaza smiled.
Broad. Devilish. Victorious.
A slow, deliberate curl of the lips, dripping with satisfaction.
A whisper.
Soft. Certain. Absolute.
"Checkmate."
—
Author's Notes
[1] Pungus aquae is roughly Latin for water fist
[2] I'll probably update till Friday, then go on hiatus again as I have another exam on March 4th
[3] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar