The room was freezing.
Not because winter had come.
Because Velzard had stepped inside.
Frost had spread over the window, along the walls, across the floorboards, and even into the corners of the bedframe. The temperature had plummeted so fast that the air itself felt brittle.
On the bed, Testarossa had already risen halfway, one hand still resting lightly atop the blanket covering Loki.
For a moment, neither woman moved.
Then Testarossa's expression shifted.
The possessive madness vanished behind a smooth, elegant smile.
She slipped off the bed and stood properly.
Then bowed.
With all the respect due to a True Dragon.
"Velzard-sama," Testarossa said. "It has been some time."
Velzard's gaze lingered on her for a moment.
Then she gave a small nod.
"It has."
Her voice remained calm.
Cool.
As always.
"You've manifested in the Cardinal World."
Testarossa straightened.
"Yes I have."
Velzard said nothing to that.
Her pale blue eyes shifted past Testarossa—
Toward the bed.
Toward Loki.
Sleeping peacefully, entirely unaware that two catastrophes were currently deciding his immediate future.
Testarossa noticed the look immediately.
Velzard noticed Testarossa noticing it.
And just like that—
The atmosphere changed.
What had begun as courtesy sharpened into something quieter.
Far more dangerous.
Testarossa folded her hands in front of her.
"Velzard-sama," she said softly, "what brings you here so late?"
Velzard answered without hesitation.
"I came for Loki."
Testarossa's smile stayed.
But only barely.
"As did I."
The frost along the wall thickened.
Velzard took one step forward.
"And yet I find you already in his bed."
Testarossa's eyes narrowed just slightly.
"And yet I found him first."
Velzard looked at the bed again.
"I promised him a reward tonight."
Testarossa tilted her head.
"How unfortunate."
Velzard's gaze returned to her.
"Move."
Testarossa smiled.
"No."
The room went silent.
Outside, the moonlight remained peaceful.
Inside, the pressure between the two women became suffocating.
Velzard's magicules stirred.
Testarossa's aura answered it at once, her demonic presence coiling low and sharp like a poised blade.
For one dangerous moment, it looked like the room might become a battlefield.
Testarossa's lips curved.
"With respect, Velzard-sama…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"…I've waited much longer than you have."
Velzard's expression did not change.
"That does not make you entitled."
Testarossa let out a soft laugh.
"No."
"But it does make me unwilling to leave."
Velzard took another step.
The frost reached the bed this time.
"I'm not asking again."
Testarossa's eyes flashed.
"And I am not moving."
That was the moment it tipped.
The air cracked.
Magicules gathered.
And then—
The door opened.
Both women turned instantly.
Standing in the doorway was Rimuru.
He froze the moment he realized what he had walked into.
'…No.'
'No no no no no.'
This was worse than before.
Much worse.
A True Dragon.
A Primordial.
Both staring at him at once.
And behind them—
Loki sleeping peacefully like the center of an international disaster.
Rimuru swallowed.
Hard.
"Ah…"
He lifted one hand awkwardly.
"…Good evening?"
Neither woman answered.
Rimuru's smile twitched.
'Okay.'
'This is it.'
'This is how I die.'
Still—
He had come because he sensed the pressure spike and, against all common sense, had decided to check on it.
Now that he was here, he realized he had made a catastrophic mistake.
But there was no running now.
So he tried the only thing he could.
He cleared his throat.
"Um…"
His eyes moved between them carefully.
"I'm just going to say this because I value my life…"
That got their attention, if only slightly.
Rimuru pressed on.
"Loki-sama is asleep."
Silence.
"Yes," Velzard said.
"Yes," Testarossa said.
Rimuru nodded quickly.
"Right. Great. We all agree on that."
He laughed nervously.
'Why am I leading this conversation?'
Then, somehow, he found one useful thought.
'Okay.'
'What do both of them want?'
The answer was obvious.
Not the same thing exactly.
But close enough.
Alone time.
With Loki.
Rimuru immediately wished he had not realized that.
Still—
He forced himself to keep speaking.
"If the problem is that both of you want to stay with Loki-sama…"
The room became even more tense.
Rimuru felt sweat form instantly.
'Bad phrasing.'
'Very bad phrasing.'
But he committed.
"Then…"
He looked at the bed.
Then back at them.
"…why not both?"
Silence.
A long silence.
Testarossa blinked once.
Velzard's eyes narrowed slightly.
Rimuru nearly collapsed from stress.
Then, finally—
Velzard looked at Testarossa.
Testarossa looked at Velzard.
And both, clearly, came to the same reluctant conclusion.
It was better than fighting.
Barely.
Testarossa exhaled through her nose.
"…Fine."
Velzard gave a small nod.
"Acceptable."
Rimuru almost cried from relief.
'It worked.'
'Why did that work?'
'Never question miracles.'
He immediately backed away from the doorway before either woman could change her mind.
"Great," he said weakly. "Then I'll just…"
He gestured vaguely.
"…leave you all to that."
He closed the door very gently behind him.
Inside, after another long moment of tension, both women moved.
Velzard approached one side of the bed.
Testarossa returned to the other.
Neither looked happy about the arrangement.
But neither challenged it either.
And in the middle of it all, Loki slept on.
Completely unaware.
---
Elsewhere, in the heart of Coleus, another gathering had formed.
Only this one carried steel instead of frost.
Torches burned around the vast military staging grounds. Soldiers stood in dense ranks beneath the night sky, armor catching the firelight in dull waves. Banners of the royal family and old noble houses stirred in the wind. Horses stamped restlessly. Adventurers from across the kingdom and beyond had arrived, answering the call to fight.
At the center of it all stood the two princes.
Sauzer.
And Aslan.
For the first time in a long while, they stood side by side.
That alone had drawn the attention of the army.
Sauzer stepped forward first.
His voice carried cleanly over the assembled ranks.
"Men of Coleus!"
The murmuring stopped.
All eyes turned toward him.
"You all know why you stand here tonight."
His gaze swept over the gathered soldiers.
"Our father is dead."
No dramatics.
No softness.
Just truth.
"A Demon Lord came into our kingdom."
"He slaughtered those who defended the throne."
"He seized our palace."
"And now he dares call himself our king."
The ranks stiffened.
Aslan stepped forward beside him, his jaw hard, his voice burning hotter.
"He thinks fear is enough!"
He looked out over the army with open fury.
"He thinks because he carries the title of Demon Lord that we should kneel, lower our heads, and surrender our nation to him."
His hand closed around the hilt of his weapon.
"I refuse."
The soldiers roared.
The adventurers gripped their weapons tighter.
Aslan raised his voice over them.
"This land belongs to us!"
"To our people!"
"To those who built it, bled for it, and buried their dead in it!"
Another roar rolled across the grounds.
Sauzer lifted one hand, steadying the noise just enough to continue.
"This will not be an easy battle."
He did not lie.
"That monster is powerful."
"Far more powerful than any ordinary enemy."
A grim quiet settled over the gathered troops.
"But," Sauzer said, and his voice sharpened, "we are not ordinary men."
He pointed toward the palace looming in the distance.
"We stand here as one army."
"One kingdom."
"One blade."
He turned slightly, looking toward Aslan.
"No more division."
"No more hesitation."
"No more pride standing between brothers while enemies take what is ours."
Aslan met his eyes for a brief moment.
Then nodded.
And when he looked back at the soldiers, his anger had become something more focused.
"Tomorrow," Aslan said, "we march not as rivals."
"We march as princes of Coleus."
"We march as one."
The ranks below erupted.
Weapons were raised.
Voices thundered.
Even the adventurers, many of whom had only come for gold or glory, found themselves caught in the force of it.
Sauzer's voice came one final time over the roar.
"Steel your hearts."
"Sharpen your resolve."
"Tomorrow, we strike the palace."
"And tomorrow…"
His hand closed into a fist.
"…we remind this world that Coleus does not kneel."
The answering roar shook the grounds.
And hidden within that sea of soldiers and torchlight—
Something very small watched.
Inside the ceiling beams of the war hall, nearly invisible against the dark wood, sat a tiny figure no bigger than a hand.
A miniature clone.
A fragment.
An extension of Moss.
His breathing was steady.
His presence perfectly concealed.
And through the Unique Skill: Reaper, he observed everything from above while his real body remained elsewhere.
His thoughts reached outward through Thought Communication.
'Lady Testarossa.'
In the bedroom far away, Testarossa's eyes opened just slightly.
She did not move.
But she answered.
'What is it, Moss?'
Moss's tiny clone looked down at the assembled army and almost felt insulted on their behalf.
'They're gathering their forces.'
Soldiers. Adventurers. Nobles.
A brief pause.
'How stupid.'
His contempt came through clearly.
'They truly believe they stand even the slightest chance against Lord Loki.'
Another pause.
'He could erase them with a snap of his fingers.'
Testarossa's lips curved faintly in the dark.
'Yes.'
'They are foolish.'
Moss continued.
'Shall I eliminate them now?'
The question carried no hesitation.
Just practicality.
If ordered, he would descend, spread death across the camp, and leave nothing standing before sunrise.
Testarossa's fingers rested lightly against the blanket over Loki.
She looked down at her sleeping brother.
Then answered.
'Not yet.'
Moss waited.
Testarossa's smile softened very slightly.
'My little brother is a softy.'
That word sounded deeply out of place when used for Loki.
And yet she meant it.
'He may not even want to kill them.'
Moss was silent for a moment.
Then replied,
'Understood.'
The tiny clone settled back into stillness.
The communication closed.
And below him, the army of Coleus continued to prepare for a war they did not understand.
---
The next morning, in the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion, everything was calm.
Or rather—
As calm as it could be in a world that had recently gained a new Demon Lord.
Morning light spilled through tall windows. Silver teaware gleamed on a small table beside an open balcony. Steam rose gently from a fresh cup.
Elmesia sat gracefully in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, enjoying her tea and biscuits with the sort of refined indifference only she could make look effortless.
She took one careful sip.
Then reached for another biscuit.
The doors opened.
A messenger entered, breathing just a little too hard for proper court etiquette.
He dropped to one knee immediately.
"Your Majesty."
Elmesia did not look at him yet.
"Yes?"
The messenger swallowed.
"An urgent report from the west."
That finally got her attention.
Elmesia set her cup down.
The messenger continued.
"Demon Lord Loki has completed a hostile takeover of the Kingdom of Coleus."
Silence.
Elmesia stared at him for one long moment.
Then leaned back in her chair and let out a slow breath through her nose.
"So."
Her fingers lightly tapped the armrest once.
"He's finally shown his true colors."
The messenger remained kneeling.
Elmesia looked out through the balcony toward the bright morning sky.
Her expression did not harden.
If anything, it became calmer.
Which, in her case, was much worse.
"Troublesome," she murmured.
---
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