“I was planning to go anyway. Huh?”

Rem ground his teeth and turned around. From all directions, creatures with drooling maws were advancing on the village. In a way, it was efficient—no longer did they have to seek out every monster or beast one by one. Even the wandering-type monsters that had vanished without a trace for a while were now showing up.

Keeaaa—!

A harpy boasting eagle feathers and firm chest muscles flapped her wings midair in the distance. A wandering monster known as a minion of Drmul. They led a group of ten, and all members of that group were said to unleash invisible blades. The leader was a harpy—so naturally, the group consisted of harpies as well.

Eleven monsters capable of hurling compressed, invisible blades of wind all night long.

Drrrr...

Suddenly, the ground began to tremble faintly. It felt like an earthquake, but it wasn’t. It was the sound—no, the sensation—of multiple heavy things charging forward. The kind of vibration one would recognize from battlefield experience.

Casting his eyes into the distance, Enkrid spotted a herd of rhino beasts, their horns jutting upward from their snouts. These weren’t ordinary beasts—they were creatures who had awakened special talents, now charging out of the Demon Realm in search of a luxurious meal.

Even amid the dust clouds and quakes, their forms did not resemble ordinary monsters. Judging by their movement, they were probably bickering amongst themselves on the way here—fighting over tastier prey was just instinct, after all.

Enkrid had fully anticipated this moment. That was why he laughed. And then, he spoke.

“A party.”

Next to him, the parasite—no, the demon—opened her eyes wide in shock at the word. A party? Was this going to be a feast where they all got sacrificed while he watched?

Anyone might’ve thought so. Sure, the black-haired man had killed a Minotaur—but this was an entirely different situation. They were no longer under the Demon God’s protection. The fence that once guarded them was gone. Death was now inevitable.

Those who once clawed and scraped for survival would now inhale despair and exhale hopelessness.

“Aaaaah!”

One of the villagers screamed—something between a shriek and a howl. Hearing that, the rest of the villagers began to do the same.

Lua Gharne stepped in.

She walked over and clutched the screaming man by the neck.

“Gkk!”

The man choked as Lua Gharne, cheeks puffed out like a frog, shouted with a voice loud enough to burst eardrums.

“BARTENDER—!”

Her thunderous cry drew everyone’s eyes. Even a few members of the Mad Order of Knights turned to glance at her. The effect of her shout was undeniable. Mouths shut. Attention was seized. Frokk’s mouth opened.

“Repeat it.”

Though Lua Gharne was a Frokk, she sometimes called herself an artist. She had once even worked in a traveling theater troupe. She knew exactly what sort of chant was needed in this moment.

“Demon—”

“...Huh?”

“Knight.”

At that moment, blades of wind rained down from above.

Shhhhhhhk.

You could hear them—but not see them. That made the sound itself a kind of terror.

Rem casually swung his axe and nullified the attack. As he moved, a loud shatter followed.

Clang!

A sound like a crystal orb breaking under force.

“So you want to play from up there, huh?”

Rem grinned as he spoke. So the enemy wanted to hurl things from afar?

There was no need to draw a sling or throwing device—called a “slingstaff” on the continent, and a “muritmae” in the west.

Rem’s left hand twitched. That’s what it looked like to most people. But to those like Enkrid, whose kinetic vision could track movement—what they saw was different.

Rem drew the axe at his waist with his left hand and hurled it skyward. Faster than when he’d thrown it at Jaxon earlier. The thrown axe flew faster than a falcon snatching prey mid-dive.

BOOM!

The sound barrier shattered. The axe embedded itself directly into the harpy leader’s skull.

Her head burst, and her body surged upward in the air. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it looked as if something had grabbed her by the neck and yanked her upward.

Then, black rain fell from the sky. Rem stepped back a few paces to avoid the blood.

The harpy, as big as a bear, crashed to the ground. Her body twitched a few times—then stopped.

“Perfect warm-up.”

Rem muttered, watching the scene unfold.

Enkrid had dissected every movement of Rem’s action. His combat sense—approaching superhuman—let him perceive what Rem had done.

Concentration of ritual energy to amplify muscle strength in an instant.

He had moved to an optimal position to form the perfect throw arc just before launching the axe.

Only a few steps, but likely enough to form a mental trajectory aimed directly at the harpy leader.

He then triggered the ritual and threw the axe.

Somewhere within it, Will-based precision detonations were applied. Finally, he finely and sensitively tuned the ritual energy to cancel out the recoil from the Will’s explosive release.

Only used exactly what he needed.

Just like how Lynox from Zaun had once shown him Will with not even a speck of error. Rem had pulled it off naturally.

Calling him a monster barely did him justice.

As Enkrid grew, so did these insane prodigies right beside him. He felt he could beat them now—but in a few more months? Who could say?

That was the difference between genius and average. Between genius and fool.

Even with endless Will, the most I gain is just this much.

And if you asked whether that made him resentful—absolutely not.

It was delightful. Incredibly fun. Electrifying joy filled his whole body. He’d felt this before—but every time, it felt new.

“So much fun.”

The thought spilled from his lips.

But to the surrounding villagers, he just looked like a lunatic. Saying it was “fun” while monsters and beasts closed in on them?

Was the Demon God possessing this man’s body?

Even if not, everyone now instinctively understood—this man was as dangerous as a demon god.

Wait, what had Frokk said earlier?

A few villagers recalled it and began to shout together.

“Demon—”

“Knight!”

It wasn’t loud at first. But the voices grew. Soon, every villager was shouting with passion.

“DEMON—!”

“KNIGHT!”

Hundreds of voices united in that cry. And there was strength in it. More than the speech of one orator—there was power in hundreds shouting the same thing.

Enkrid turned slightly. He thought it was just one of Frokk’s obnoxious jokes. But to Lua Gharne, no title could be more fitting.

“Demon”—a name that suited him perfectly.

Look at him, even now luring in a Balrog just by existing.

“You really don’t let me rest, do you?”

Even Shinar stepped forward.

“Pell, Rophod, cut it out.”

Enkrid called out as he ran, and the two moved.

Roman had finally caught on. Even though monsters and beasts were charging in from all sides—this wasn’t a crisis.

Why?

Because everyone here... was a monster.

Ragna walked off to one side, sword drawn. His greatsword glowed in the night like a sun that rejected moonlight, rising tall amidst the dark.

Roman, who had been getting chewed out by Rophod, joined him.

Dudududu.

For now, the charging rhino beasts were the most pressing.

Audin and Teresa stepped forward.

“Let’s push them aside!”

Audin shouted, grabbed the horns of the charging rhino beast with both hands—then flung it to the side.

Huh? How is that even possible?

Not even Oara could pull that off if she were alive again.

He had always assumed Audin’s specialty was divine power—but he hadn’t even invoked any. This was a duet of brute strength and refined technique.

Under Audin’s massive bear-like feet, the earth caved in, forming a wide arc. His arms and limbs had become unbreakable iron pillars, pushing the charging rhino beast to the side as if tossing it.

BOOM!

A thunderous roar erupted—like lightning striking a boulder. The sound rang so sharp it stung the eardrums.

The rhino beast collapsed, crushing several monsters under its weight. Beside it, the half-giant woman showed off a similar feat. Only, she used a shield—catching the beast’s charge with it and shoving it aside. Her foot traced a large semicircle on the ground, a movement designed to redirect force.

Roman, even without the keenest eye, was still a quasi-knight. He could tell how extraordinary those two maneuvers were.

Monsters!

The thought burst forth from his chest.

And now, the most fearsome monster stepped out.

In the darkness of night, his cloak appeared pitch black. Roman knew that, in daylight, it was actually a deep forest green.

Flaaaap!

As he charged forward, the cloak fluttered like a banner. It had somehow extended into a long, trailing shape, almost like a scarf.

It stretched behind him—an ink-black line against the shadows.

“Assimilation!”

He shouted an incomprehensible word and swung his sword.

A ghoul, camouflaged to blend with the environment, was sliced vertically down the middle right in front of him.

When did he even—?

It was a monster that could conceal itself. And it had been cut down. Black blood and viscera splattered across the ground—consumed immediately by the ravenous darkness.

“DEMON—!”

“KNIGHT!”

The chant echoed from behind as Frokk led the villagers again. The cry seemed to summon madness itself.

Roman accepted it all. And with that, a wildfire-like emotion ignited in him—a blazing urge to take part in it too.

Like setting dry grassland alight.

“UWOOOOHHH! HERE COMES ROMAN OF OARA!”

Caught up in the moment, Roman thrust his greatsword straight forward.

CRACK!

The massive troll’s skull caught on the blade.

“UWOOOH!”

With a shout, he yanked his sword upward with all his strength. The troll’s head split in two. No matter how strong its regeneration was—if its skull was cracked open, it was over.

Look at me! I’m Roman of Oara!

That’s what his face said.

Then, a shadow brushed past him, and a calm voice poured water on his fiery enthusiasm.

“No. You’re putting too much strength in your movements. Joints should be fluid—you give power when striking, and release it when withdrawing.”

“If saying it could fix it, I’d already be perfect. Leave him be. If he dies flailing around like that, that’s just his fate.”

Another voice followed. The first was Rophod. The second, Pell.

As they ran, Rophod replied.

“I’m telling him so he won’t die like that.”

“And I’m telling you it won’t help.”

“Maybe because you’ve got a dog-faced demon’s penis jammed in your ear. But this guy? He’s not you.”

“Hey! You said insults like that make people sound cheap, remember?”

Rophod winced for a moment. He’d ended up sounding just like Pell.

They’d spent too much time together. Maybe he was starting to become like him.

The thought annoyed him even more.

Time to settle who was on top.

“Whoever kills more—”

“Good idea.”

Before Rophod even finished, Pell agreed. The two split left and right. More dangerous things than the troll Roman just downed were everywhere. A perfect battlefield for competition.

Roman could see it too.

Rustle! A few stones jumped up from the ground.

BOOM!

A fountain of earth and rock erupted.

A worm!

A massive worm monster burst from the ground—large enough to strangle a bear in one twist.

“Mine!”

Pell claimed it.

He soared through the air, curled his body mid-flight, and swung his sword.

A stunt Roman wouldn’t even think to attempt.

The worm thrashed, head split open—but Pell didn’t stop. He carved the beast into pieces.

His casual swings were just as precise and effective as someone else’s desperate effort.

A sword strike so deeply ingrained it’s performed unconsciously.

Roman felt the truth of that principle hit him like never before.

Near the fallen worm, five ghouls came slobbering at full speed.

Rophod intercepted them.

He calmly decapitated each one, one by one.

The whole scene felt so natural, so inevitable. But looking closely—it wasn’t.

Like prey caught in a spider’s web.

That was the impression it left. He limited their movements, and when the time came, struck without hesitation.

After that, Roman had no room to pay attention to others.

He had to move—fast. Too many things were swarming.

It had started with harpies. Now it was ghouls, dog-faced demons, ogres, trolls, armored skeletons, plague maidens, poison-spewing fiends...

But really, it wasn’t a big deal.

That’s ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ what he thought.

What’s the fuss about fighting two nights straight?

The villagers who had chanted “Demon-Knight” had long since retreated into their homes.

Lua Gharne had made sure of that—there was no need to expose them to unnecessary danger.

Afterward, Lua Gharne also joined the battle. She filled in gaps at the village center, directing forces.

Her tactical swordsmanship, the precursor to Enkrid’s orthodox style, was equally powerful as a command technique.

And thus, two days passed.

Roman looked out upon the dead bodies of monsters and beasts.

It wasn’t a metaphor.

He was looking at a mountain of corpses.