Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thundering wardrums of the orcs echoed through the azure plains, seemingly shaking the firmament of the sky itself. The steps of the wargs, those monstrous wolves who could breathe fire, brought forth inevitable doom to anything they came across. Behind them, a trail of devastation colored the horizon, leaving an ugly, wretched brown on their wake. The wargs’ claws breathed poison and even the normally poisonous blue grass was quickly overwhelmed.

This parade of destruction was led by none other than Garosh Battlesong, the self-proclaimed Demon Lord of War. Unlike the rest of his entourage, his ride was Cerberus himself, a massive three-headed wolf that towered over the rest of the pack. It was a creature he had brought from Einzelschwarz, the Land of Eternal Darkness. He had tamed it a long time ago, from his adventuring days.

There, on top of the pitch-black wolf, sat the orc lord on his throne. His skin was putrid green and his face was that of a boar. Two large yellow tusks protruded from his mouth. Unlike human teeth, there was no need to brush them, for orc bones were far stronger than human ones. His armor was a gaudy gold, with spiked shoulder pads that made him look more ridiculous than terrifying. It was a monument to his vanity, as he had forged this armor using the gold he ransacked from the dark elves.

Pensively, he looked at the plains in front of him, resting his head on his hand. The dark elves had fallen. And now, the ogres would fall as well.

His goal was simple. He would raze every single ogre camp, kill the males, and make the females his slaves. He would sell some while giving others to both himself and his commandants. And, if he was feeling generous, he would let his grunts have their way with them as well. After all, they would need new orcs to bolster their ranks before taking on the Wisdom Demon Lord.

He was Garosh Battlesong. He was the strongest orc in history.  He was the Demon Lord of War.

Weep in despair, all those that oppose—

“Gyaaahhhh!”

A powerful explosion deafened his ears, quickly bringing him out of his thoughts.

He looked in front of him and saw that the field was burning.

His pack stopped. They swiftly readied for combat. That was no natural occurrence. That was an enemy attack.

And then, he saw him — a figure descending from the skies, right in the middle of his army.

A human figure. Not a birdkin or a batkin.

A mage.

“I come here to parlay, o great Demon Lord of War!” He shouted. Somehow, his voice was far louder than it should be.

He lifted his right arm, signalling the archers and shamans of his army to fire.

He knew how mages worked. You kill them by taking them by surprise.

Humans are weak. He might be some strong fire and wind mage but under a rain of arrows and spells, especially the latter, he had no chance whatsoever.

The archers fired first, some augmenting their shots, making them fly as fast as sound.

The man dodged them all. Somehow, his speed eclipsed even his best archers.

The shamans fired next, using lightning spells. He was standing in the middle of the sky so he was foolishly close to the supercharged clouds their lightning spells would create.

Only to find that the gathering dark clouds never gathered. It was as if there was an invisible force pushing them away. They scattered away, only to end up raining down their electricity at the very shamans that created them.

Chaos fell over the army. They had just been blindsided by an opponent that they could not comprehend.

The Demon Lord growled. Not at the human, but at his own pathetic, weak orcs. He thought he already culled all the weak ones when he united all the orc tribes under his banner. Apparently not.

He stood up, brandished his two-handed pole axe, and used his special skill.

Ghastly Swing. It was an ability that conjured a shadow axe multiple times the size of his actual axe before swinging it at an enemy. He could destroy entire armies with it.

The shadow axe appeared, tall enough to reach the floating man. He swung it at him with all his might.

Only for him to dodge it as well.

He jetted down, so fast that he couldn’t react in any sufficient manner. He quickly activated his personal shield, granted by a magic ring he wore on his left hand.

Only to find that it didn’t matter, as the man fired a spell right in front of him.

Strong enough that it shattered his pathetic shield in an instant.

The last thing he saw was his eyes.

And they were… terrifying.

------------

Hugo

Haaah, that went well.

My tactic worked perfectly. Well, the reserve one anyway.

I thought I was going to bargain with them first but then they fired on me. I couldn’t even get a single word in.

And so, I went with my next plan — killing the big boss immediately.

It was easy to see who it was. He was the largest orc sitting on the throne of a giant three-headed wolf. I would eat my shoe if the orc demon lord was anyone else.

Oh, and speaking of that, this guy was no demon lord at all. He was nothing compared to that woman who nearly killed me back at Arborea. Sure that ax thing was scary but he was just too slow with it. My movement now could reach up to seven to eight mach speed, soon to be ten. His swing was at one at the very most.

And with a single accelerated Super Boom Cannon, I erased him from existence, turning him into a fine chunk of gore raining down on his followers.

With him gone, the rest of his army went absolutely bonkers. The Cerberus he rode on went haywire and it began eating all the orcs it could find. It didn’t even care that it engaged in cannibalism, since he also ate the wolves as well. Though then again, they were from two different species, I think. Cerberus was an S-rank monster from Einzelschwarz (God, that name is such a mouthful) while the wargs are a native of this region. They might be somewhat similar to wolves but that didn’t mean they were brothers or anything.

Some of the orcs tried to attack me again but an Explosion here and there quickly shut them up. I even combined Explosion and Grand Tornado to conjure a massive flaming tornado that swallowed and burned anything it touched.

They quickly learned that I was far beyond their level. And so they left, running back to the east with their tails between their legs.

As for the Cerberus, I ended the poor guy’s life. Whatever that orc did to tame him, it had run out so he was just a feral monster.

Landing on the ground, I was swiftly greeted by a warm, boob-filled hug by Felicia.

"That was amazing, Milord!"

Our backup backup plan was for me to dive into her shadow if I was overwhelmed. Thankfully, we didn't need to do it.

"Lord Hugo, thank you very much! I swear I will never forget your kindness for the rest of my life!"

Our cuddling session was interrupted by Orluk, who had taken the knee and lowered his head.

My original plan was to negotiate with the orcs with him as the key figure. That first Explosion was for that — to stop the army from its tracks and make them listen to him. I was going to lift him up and bring him face to face with the orc leader.

Of course, all that went out of the window once they started firing.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have opened with a hostile spell.

But then again, how else was I going to stop them?

I released Felicia and walked up to him, before kneeling down as well.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that big of a deal."

"It was a big deal to me — to my tribe! You've saved us! You've saved so many lives today by eradicating their army! How can I possibly repay you after that?!"

"...Well, all I ask is for you to raise Fia properly. I might ask for your help in the future but for now, that is all I need."

"I'm not satisfied with that!"

Sheesh, this guy really is stubborn.

"Look, you should go back and report this to your tribe. You can't follow me. The remaining orcs might still try to attack once they have regrouped. So, my suggestion is for you and the other ogres to launch a counter offense as fast as possible, while they're weak, to break them once and for all."

"You… you have a point, Lord Hugo."

I stood up. He quickly followed suit.

"I will return immediately. We need to make sure to not squander this opportunity. And I swear, one day, I shall repay this debt in full."

He gave a deep, long bow of gratitude. Only then he was satisfied enough to leave.

Well, that takes care of that.

So much for bringing him to ensure safe passage. In the end, we have to use force after all.

The Demon Continent really is a place where strength rules over all.

Afterwards, we reunited back with Myrilla and the others. And I immediately noticed the proud look the demoness had once she learned that I had just defeated an entire orc army on my own.

Oh, she didn’t tell me I was amazing like Theo did. That would be out of character for her. Instead, she just said that I had surpassed her expectations. Which, to me, was far better than Theo’s praise. I knew he was a fanboy of mine but Myrilla, she actually judged me fairly without any biases.

Heh, you could say that it was a leftover from my old life, where I desperately wanted to gain the approval of others, especially an adult figure like her.

God, I am still such a kid.

But, that was how I felt. And I couldn’t lie to myself.

I just hoped that, when I met Sherry again, I could prove myself to her again.

-----------

Sherry

"Hyah! Hyaaahhhh!"

Valley of Eternal Summer, at a certain spot outside of the Izurd Valley.

There, a certain girl was training—swinging her sword day and night. Her white robe was drenched with sweat, clinging firmly to her small and slim figure.

She wasn't alone however. A man was there too, training beside him. He too wore a pure white robe, though the neckline exposed a lot more of his bare chest. No abs could be seen, unfortunately for him. Just a smooth, thin body that was taller than the girl's.

Such was the nature of the Izurds, forbidden to possess visible muscles no matter how hard they trained.

As they trained, two other Izurds were watching them from a distance.

One was a woman with a noticeably large bosom that she proudly showed off with her low necked falca (this world's word for kimono). The other was a woman who lacked said bosom, wearing a white shirt with a corset.

All of them had long, pitch-black hair, another common thing amongst the Izurds.

"That sour face… I thought you'd be happier." The flat-chested woman said, glancing at the buxom woman standing beside her. "Your niece has recovered and your son finally has his dream girl."

"I know." She sighed, still keeping her gaze to her niece and son. "But I can't help but feel this nagging feeling that something is wrong."

"You don't trust the Fey. You think she lied about him."

"It wouldn't be the first. I still don't believe my sister took her own life. She's stronger than that."

"That's your own bias speaking."

"How can you say that to your own daughter?! You really have lost your heart."

The two conversing women were none other than Quania and Fran, the current chief of the Izurd and her daughter. They might be related but you couldn't tell that by how they looked, with them looking the same age. Not to mention their figures, with the former being the metaphorical washboard and the latter being bouncingly bountiful.

"What will you do then, if you think that fairy is lying?" Quania asked, giving a short glance to her daughter before looking back at the two training Izurds.

"I've confronted her about it but as you would expect, she refused to answer," Fran replied with an annoyed look, folding her arms under her chest. "I guess I'll just have to question him about it when he comes here."

"...A trial."

"What?"

Quania turned to face her. "I'll give him a trial. Questions won't be enough. I have to know if he really loves her with all his might."

"And that trial is?"

Quania did not answer.

--------

Returning back to the two training Izurds, they now had moved to their regular spar. However, there was a catch. The girl was to throw her sword away and cover her eyes with her hair. She would then dodge every single attack the boy made without fail.

They both knew she was so much stronger than him. So they agreed on this method. It was the only reason the girl agreed to train together actually.

"Alright, you can start now."

"Y-yes. I'll count to ten and then I'll attack. That's okay with you, Sherry?"

"Yes! But attack whenever you want! And don't you dare hold back!"

She opened her legs and bent down a little, readying her defensive stance. If one were to stand behind her, they might take notice of the shape of her firm behind, imprinting itself on her tightly clinging robe. For the sixteen year old girl, it was the only sign that she had reached adulthood, for her breasts remained as flat as ever, just like her grandmother's.

The boy lunged forward at count 2, swinging his sword with all his might. It created a powerful vertical wave that flew at high speed, faster than the blink of an eye.

Only for her to dodge it with a simple sidestep.

He didn't stop there. He continued to attack and attack and attack, swinging his sword the best he could. There was no need to hold back. He knew just how outclassed he was by her.

As for the girl, she was completely in her element. She could sense his every movement, from both the flares of his presence and the shift in the air caused by his movements.

She didn't know yet but her grandmother had taught her how to control her aura. Unlike the two human sword schools, the Izurd had no conception of such a thing. They simply told their younglings to use their rage and bloodlust in their swordsmanship.

Eventually, the boy gave up. He sat down, panting, completely spent from his attacks. He had spent an hour attacking her without landing a single blow.

The girl, however, was barely showing any sign of weakness.

She sighed, seeing the tired boy. "I'll train on my own now. Take your rest."

If only Hugo was here… he would be able to keep up with me… he's always one step ahead than me after all...

No! I'm done with that traitor! He can rot for all I care! He and that big-boobed redhead of his!

I'm now training to avenge Renee and Alan! Not him!

With renewed vigor/anger, she moved to doing push-ups. 1000 per day. That was her goal.

All while the weak boy shamelessly fixed his gaze at her bottom.

His name was Emel and he was Fran's only son — a slender man with long black hair reaching down his waist.

And he had a crush on the girl.

In this world, cousin marriages were quite common and popular, both with humans and demons. So even though the girl was his cousin, he didn't hold back in chasing after her.

He had proposed to her many times. Especially after the reveal that the girl's human lover had cheated on her. Alas, due to his weakness, she still refused to see him as her new lover.

He knew his place. He was no match for her strength. She was a monster, even amongst the Izurd. Truly, a candidate worthy of the Demon Lord title, if she ever chose to pursue it.

But, as long as he continued trying… both to be stronger and to win her heart, he knew that one day, he could marry and bed her.

That flat chest… that supple behind… that tomboyish, stubborn personality… she was the perfect girl…

He would do anything to be with her. That, he knew without a doubt.

But for now, he'd take a quick break. Catch his breath.

That nice view of her butt… he took it as his reward for helping her.

------

The Grand Cathedral. The heart and seat of government for the Church of Milicis and the fortress where its current head, the Holy Saint Catherine, resided.

It was located at Damatiel, the Holy Capital, above the tall hill that overlooked the entire city. It was said in their religion that this hill was where Milicis received her very first revelation from the Heavenly Dragon, to fight against the Demon God and save humanity. And such, the hill was named the Hill of Salvation by the Church and it was quickly deemed a holy ground where only a chosen few may enter.

There, the Saint and her Cardinals were having an emergency meeting.

"Your Holiness! We have to announce a crusade! Right now!"

"Oh? And where are we supposed to attack first? The foolish Demon Lord who had conquered humanity’s land there? Or the vile mages who decided it was a great idea to plunge their continent into destruction and chaos for the sake of their arrogance? We can't possibly fight both. Especially not with how the Empire is now."

“So just make the second princess the new Empress! Then those upstart nobles would have no choice but to—”

“Are you that naive, Cardinal Empyreon? You'll be dragging us into a civil war! No! Let them sort it out! We shall not be involved!"

"Ooo Heavenly Dragon! Why must you grant us a terrible fate such as this?"

The Church was technically ruled by the Saint. However, the day-to-day ruling was done by her Cardinals instead. There were eight of them, each handling a different aspect of the theocracy. You can think of them as ministers working under a king.

However, there was one cardinal amongst them that was also granted the title "Pope". He was the Grand Cardinal, the administrator of all the other Cardinals and the right hand man of the Saint.

That day, he and his peers were sitting in the Holy Circle, the fancy name they had given for their meeting room. Like its namesake, the room was round, with eight seats encircling a throne in the middle. They were not on equal ground, however, with the throne being raised on a cylindrical pillar The seat closest to the throne was for the Pope, while the other seats would be for the other cardinals. And of course, the throne was where the Saint herself would sit.

The entire room was painted white, with only the throne having streaks of gold decorating it. Everything was equal, except the Saint, who stood above everyone else.

Interestingly enough, however, the pillar blocked the view of the cardinals, preventing them from seeing the cardinal right across them. And the Saint herself could not see the cardinals sitting behind her.

Now, you may think that it's odd, having a conference room where you can not see some of your peers directly. However, such was the custom of the Holy Circle. The cardinals were supposed to be faceless whisperers to the Saint, advising her on all matters while she would be the one taking the decision.

'Clang!'

All of a sudden, the sound of metal hitting a hard floor echoed across the room.

The cardinals fell silent, their gaze moving towards the throne above them.

The one who made the sound was none other than Saint Catherine herself. She was a beautiful woman whose youth defied her age, with long pinkish hair that flowed down to her ankles. By all rights and purposes, she should be in her fifties, yet she still looked as if she was in her twenties. Said youthful look was soon attributed to her holiness — she was so pure and flawless that not even Death dared to touch her. Others said it came from her miraculous power. As the only person in the world who was capable of casting Saint-level Holy spells, it wouldn't be odd for one such spell to possess the capability to slow aging. And knowing that her predecessors had the same ability, where they managed to live for 150 years or so, it wasn't that much of a farfetched theory.

She wore a white robe with golden trimmings and embroideries, covering the also white dress she wore underneath. In her hand rested a staff, the tip shaped like a dragon with its wings open. The staff was made out of blessed mithril, layered with gold that gave it its divine hue. And in case you don't know, blessed mithril is simply a mithril that has been aligned to conduct holy energy really well. In fact, that staff was considered to be the strongest holy staff in existence, as the mithril's purity and conductivity were unrivaled.

That was all to be expected, knowing that said staff was Laevatainn, The Staff of The Divine Heavens. It was the legendary weapon held by Milicis herself, one thousand years ago. It had been handed down to the various Saints over the centuries.

"Grand Cardinal Nirvana. A little bird brought me knowledge that you intentionally kept a message from Ferus — a message that could've forewarned us of the disaster.  Explain yourself."

Her voice was cold and detached, as if whatever his answer was wouldn't matter in the slightest. And yet, there was also the underlying threat creeping nearby, showing that if he lied, there would be a price to pay.

An odd contradiction. And a far cry from the public image the Church had propagated about her.

"I…" He stuttered. "I simply believed the information was unsubstantiated. And it came from a mage. We can't trust their kind."

Silence. The Saint didn't even bother glancing at the old man. She continued staring towards the distance, at the glass ceiling overlooking the large room.

"A-apologies! I shall pay penance for my mistake!"

She didn't need to say anything.

Her presence — it was enough to keep these men in line.

"Cardinal Ares. Send our troops to Vermouth. Reinforce our defences there. Do the same for Frastelleren. For now, we shall take a defensive posture."

"Yes, Your Holiness!"

"In the meantime, I shall pray to the Heavenly Dragon. Until I receive my revelation, you shall not do anything. You will simply spy on our two opponents."

"Of course, Your Holiness!"

"Then, this meeting is adjourned. Leave me to my solitude."

One by one, the cardinals left the room. Even though barely any of them had the chance to speak, they knew better than to defy her.

The Saint's will was absolute. To go against it was to go against the Heavenly Dragon Himself.

When the robes of the last man disappeared, the Saint let out a big sigh before relaxing her posture, slumping her back as she looked upwards.

So it begins… the start of the new Cycle.

And yet, I still have no instruction to call upon the Heroes. Have I been abandoned? Has that creature decided I no longer suit its purposes? Has it chosen another, more youthful woman to be the next Grand Saint?

Or perhaps I am too hasty in my judgment. The Demon God has yet to announce its existence.

But, I can tell that the chains holding the Goddess have been severely weakened by what the Magocracy did. If the Dragon doesn't regain its full strength soon…

She gritted her teeth, her grip on her staff tightening.

...All those sacrifices… all those farces and atrocities I have committed in a thousand years… all shall go to waste… humanity will once again be a slave of this star's will…

I cannot — I will not tolerate that.

Before she realized it, tears trailed down her eyes.

Arthur… Mira… Ilymhyrra…

And you too… Aira…

Forgive me…

Rest assured… your sacrifices won't come to waste...

Even if it means I have to take down those filthy mages myself.