I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

At this moment, the Demon King was just like any other Sarkaz, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight spilling into the valley and falling on his face along the window sill.

After accepting the Black Crown and becoming the Demon King, Theresa seemed no different from before, yet everything seemed to have changed.

Her tone remained gentle, her eyes remained loving, and her actions continued to serve the Sarkaz people—never changing.

But the days after the war were a completely different story for her – she went from being one of the commanders who needed to control the situation on the battlefield to a leader who had to deal with various politicians in order to find a way out.

She remained constant, while everything around her could never stay in the same place forever.

“He is indeed… a very special being.” Ramalen looked out the window, where the view of the courtyard perfectly reflected the shape of the Word Tower: “This is also why I hope to become his partner.”

Compared to the hesitation and apprehension she felt in Gerald's presence, Ramalen now spoke her mind almost effortlessly. It wasn't that she had suddenly become frank, but rather that even without speaking, the Demon King could still discern everything she was thinking.

In fact, even without the ability to read minds granted by the Black Crown, Theresa's sensitivity to others' emotions was far beyond that of ordinary people. What she saw and thought was almost never completely wrong.

Normally, she would only find this method of communication very convenient, perhaps with a slight sense of shame for having her thoughts exposed, but in this situation—

That would be great.

She couldn't wait to show off everything she had.

"companion."

Theresa murmured the word softly, then followed Ramalyn's gaze to the distant tower: "The choice the banshee made for the sake of continuation is truly moving. When you bid me farewell, you only bore the wounds of your death. But now, I can hear your longing and hope for the future in your words. Ramalyn, I am happy for you."

“But you are here now.” Upon hearing this, Ramalen shook her head hesitantly. “This just shows that the situation inside Kazdel is not very good.”

And that's exactly what she said.

After going through the routine of announcing the next meeting of the War Council, Theresa's first step was to go to her friend and seek an answer.

A reply was given, requesting that the Banshee Queen temporarily travel to Kazdel.

As one of the six heroes of the Sarkaz, Ramallen's departure has already sparked much speculation and even resentment among the Sarkaz who remain in Kazdel.

The best solution is to have this great succubus occasionally show her face in front of everyone to stabilize their emotions and keep the situation under control.

After all, as the most valiant and gentle royal court in Sarkaz, the voice of the banshee is often revered. This kind of propaganda can't be left to the lich grandfather or Lord Nez're, who is a symbol of death, and the Blood Lord is, needless to say, a pure and ultimate negative example.

If it fails, the ultimate responsibility will fall on the brother and sister... Although they were prepared, it was still far too inefficient.

“Sometimes I wonder, Your Highness, do you ever regret it?” The Banshee Queen reluctantly turned her gaze back to the guest she was supposed to be receiving: “Of course, no matter what your answer is, I will not hand him over to anyone. But if he were willing to become an ally of you and Theresis, the entire Sarkaz race would probably benefit now.”

"Wow, you're showing off to me now."

Theresa smiled as she looked at the gentle expression that involuntarily appeared on his face: "But he did choose you after all. I believe that if I had wanted him to join my ranks back then, what would have been used to maintain our connection would not have been our shared desire to bring the Sarkaz back to the blue sky, but rather his unusual fighting spirit."

The joy on Lamar's face was somewhat dampened.

She certainly understood the unspoken meaning behind those words: Gerald had indeed become her partner because of their mutual understanding, not because of her power as the ruler of the royal court.

But when she recalled how someone had suddenly triggered the spell trap in the courtyard while they were fighting that morning, she became unsure whether she should believe the claim.

"...Fighting is just a means, not an end." Theresa was also caught off guard by the fluctuation in the other party's heart at this moment. She did not expect that the usually calm and composed Banshee Queen would be affected by her words. She quickly made up for it, saying, "From this point of view, we are very similar, and he is no exception."

Lamaren lowered her eyelashes, her fingertips pausing for a moment as she gently stroked her eyelashes.

She sighed silently, finally deciding not to dwell on the matter any longer. She withdrew her fingers from her sleeve, clenched them gently, and her tone returned to its usual calm: "Let's return the topic to Kazdel, Your Highness."

“I wasn’t lying, Lamaren.”

These rather distant words made Theresa instantly put on a convincingly genuine expression of sadness, but seeing that Ramalen clearly doubted her words, she could only sigh and continue the previous topic:

"In Kazdel, although the war forged the name of the Six Heroes, and the Royal Court became a haven for many of our compatriots, as their numbers increased, some members of the Royal Court would use this as an excuse to order and enslave the Sarkaz, and sometimes there would be... massacres, all under a guise of legitimacy."

“You can simply say it was the Blood Court that did it.” Even a good-natured banshee like Ramalen couldn’t help but frown at this point. “It’s like history repeating itself.”

“Ducarre is obsessed with that victory, obsessed with the praise brought by the Age of Heroes.” Theresa sighed. “Although he has never appeared in the council, his attitude, and the attitude of the Blood Court, will not change in the slightest because of a discussion between just a few court lords. We must come up with other ways to solve the current predicament.”

"As for now, the time is still too short."

The demon king, who hadn't slept for a long time and had just finished his paperwork before rushing to the valley, finally showed signs of fatigue.

That was the only conclusion she could draw.

Ramalen's heart was slightly stirred for a moment, but she quickly shook her head: "Letting the Banshee Queen reappear in Kazdel won't make things much better, and we are powerless to provide protection to the other Sarkaz. Besides, if I leave the valley, my people... well, forget about it."

This is one of the reasons why she has hesitated to agree to Theresa's request.

As the queen of the succubi, she is not only a leader, but also a shield, a sharp blade wielded for her people; her very existence is a deterrent to the outside world.

If she were to leave, even temporarily, would the valley remain as peaceful as before? Without her guidance, would they one day suddenly begin studying spells that should have been studied much later? Would other Sarkaz who were at odds with the banshee seize this opportunity to invade the valley?

but--

Things seem different now.

With someone she could trust by her side, she seemed to have truly become much freer.

Even when Theresa made the request, Ramallen's first thought wasn't to refuse, but to seriously consider the feasibility of the matter.

As if she could read Ramalen's mind, Theresa suddenly blinked, looked towards the distant Tower of Words, and said:

"So, at least the thing you're most worried about now seems to have a solution."

Ramalyn's gaze followed Theresa's words and looked into the distance.

Suddenly, a futuristic-looking power suit flew out from the top of the tower, carrying a figure that could be vaguely seen.

In front of the power armor, a group of banshees were linked together, tightly gripping the same chain made of incantations, desperately trying to evade the pursuit coming from behind.

"No one expected to step forward to help the Sarkaz at the most critical moment of the war, nor did anyone expect Kuranta to become the banshees' teacher. Nothing is predetermined."

Theresa slowly rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on the sky beyond the courtyard. A gentle breeze ruffled her long dress, and her pupils reflected a soft glow in the afternoon twilight.

She turned her head and smiled:

"Of course, I don't think that just coming here once will convince you, but things are much better than I expected."

"I hope that when I come to the valley again next time, you will have more confidence in the future of the banshee, Lamaren. I believe that something must have changed."

A gentle afternoon breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying the faint scent of flowers and earth. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, as if everything was proceeding slowly according to a predetermined trajectory.

However, the next second, a chaotic wave of incantations came from afar, breaking the tranquility.

This fluctuation naturally did not escape the Demon King's perception. Theresa turned around and looked up, somewhat bewildered, her gaze fixed on the direction of the Word Tower.

Just then, the flying spell beneath the little banshee she had just seen suddenly veered off its original trajectory and plummeted straight toward the courtyard like a comet that had lost control.

The power armor behind them also began to accelerate faster and faster, and the two sides were chasing each other like they were in a race.

...Theresa suddenly felt a pang of regret.

Was I a little too hasty in saying what I just said?

“Such things can indeed happen when an unskilled incantation is used.”

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Ramalen's words reached her ears. The Banshee Queen took a few steps forward and came to her side, her face seemingly filled with satisfaction: "But to have done this much is already quite good."

The Banshee Queen took out a bone pen from her bosom and tapped it lightly in the air a few times. She intended to directly collect the incantations around the courtyard and trap the little banshees along with the unstable incantations to prevent the accident from escalating.

But just before she was about to make her move, she saw another, even faster figure.

A flash.

In the blink of an eye, an extremely sharp trail lit up the sky, tearing through the heavens like lightning, pointing directly at the curse that was about to fall upon the little banshees.

Wherever the sword's shadow passed, the defensive spells in the courtyard were instantly wiped out, leaving not even a trace of residual energy.

Lamaren's eyes paused slightly. Her clenched fingers loosened, and she immediately used a spell to retrieve the cushion from the room and place it in a prominent spot.

The next second, without the support of the incantation, the little banshees, like a crashing plane, traced a messy arc across the sky and plummeted towards the courtyard in unison—

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuah!!"

With a series of chaotic screams, the eight little demonesses crashed heavily onto the soft cushions where they landed, huddled together with their limbs intertwined.

No matter how much they had previously disliked each other, they couldn't care less about their relationship at this moment. Even Nastia, who had always been the most composed, looked extremely terrified.

The emotions—a mixture of weightlessness, the fear of being chased, the thrill of sudden high-speed flight, and the relief of surviving—reached their peak simultaneously. Everyone could only rely on their most primal instincts to cling tightly to everything around them, trying to find a sense of security.

The low rumble in the sky made the little banshees, who were already embracing each other, hug even tighter.

This time, however, they were not greeted by the feeling of being hit by wind-powered cannons, but by the process of the power armor disintegrating and separating in mid-air.

The celestial horse gently descended from the sky.

pat.

Gerald's boots landed steadily on the stone bricks of the courtyard, the wind obediently surrounding him like snakes submitting to their master, gently supporting his body so that not a speck of dust was raised when he landed.

The bewilderment on his face contrasted sharply with his elegant landing.

"...Are you really giving them a lesson?"

Lamarlene's bone pen was spinning wildly with the movement of her fingers. The scene before her made it impossible for her to say a good word for her partner. In the end, she could only bottle this frustration into a short question and throw it at Gerald.

"They were in class, but I don't know why everyone was completely unable to deal with an attack."

Gerald confirmed Ramalen's question, along with a deep sense of unease.

He was also aggrieved.

The Originium Arts that had just been loaded into his power armor were about as powerful as the ones he had used when playing games with Maria five or six years ago. They were basically in the category of being able to take a few hits and be in pain for a while without being able to move. Heaven knows why these little banshees were almost completely paralyzed after just one hit.

So much so that one of the little banshees, after being hit three or four times, broke down on the spot. In a fit of rage, she broke through her own limitations and, like Ramallen's chain, tethered everyone to the sky, hoping to escape the attacks from the power armor.

The result is as follows.

The little banshees who survived the disaster huddled together timidly, shuffling backwards until they reached another person.

Only then did Gerald look at the prominent figure in the courtyard.

His gaze lingered on the petrified Theresa for a moment, then, after assessing her combat strength and recalling her face, he obediently greeted her.

"Hello, Theresa."

Chapter Seventy-Five: Mutual Understanding

It is very strong; in terms of both presence and strength, it is a formidable opponent unmatched in the world.

This was Gerald's immediate and heartfelt feeling.

From a purely strength perspective, this person is clearly a level above Lamaren herself. If he overestimates himself and tries to fight her one-on-one, he will probably only be able to withstand a few blows, or he might be instantly killed without knowing the opponent's specific abilities.

On the other hand, Theresa posed a much smaller threat to him than Ramalyn. Although, with increasing familiarity with the environment and a deeper understanding of the spells, he was somewhat able to figure out how to deal with Ramalyn's attacks.

But this one... how should I put it? The issue of magic is secondary.

The Sarkaz hero standing before me was incredibly humble.

This is completely incompatible with the image of the hero who dared to use the city as a trap to massacre countless soldiers.

Seeing that Theresa was still standing there as if she had crashed, Gerald didn't dwell on it too much, but simply apologized to the two of them:

"I'm sorry, I didn't know there would be other guests coming to the valley today. I should have had them stop before they flew out."

"It's alright. I should have told you beforehand with the incantation, otherwise I wouldn't have made such a fool of myself in front of Your Highness."

Lamaren picked up the bone pen in her hand and repaired the spells around the courtyard bit by bit. With a gentle flick of her right hand, she separated the "little banshee balls" that were hugging each other on the ground. She also patted the head of the tearful child who was pressed at the bottom to comfort her and made them sit in a row on the long bench that flew in from a distance.

Lamaren's words themselves serve as a reminder.

This was both to tell Gerald the identity of the person in front of him and to tell the little banshees, who were dizzy from training, that they should actually perform better now—in a way, the current situation was perhaps a bit like two teachers giving a public lesson to their own children, with the school principal in the audience.

Gerald couldn't help but think so.

Meanwhile, after a brief silence, Theresa seemed to finally come to her senses and respond to Gerald's greeting:

“Hello, Gerald, friend of the Sarkaz. I’ve heard a lot about you from Ramalyn.”

“If you don’t mind, just treat me like a normal Sarkaz,” she continued, taking a few steps forward and sitting down next to the little banshees, a relieved smile on her face. “Ramalen said you were teaching some things about the outside world today, could I learn along with you?”

Gerald tilted his head slightly as he looked at Theresa, who was huddled together with the little banshee and didn't seem to mind at all.

Such a friendly and outgoing person.

Although his expression didn't change, Theresa keenly noticed Pegasus's subconscious emotional fluctuations. She slightly curved the corners of her mouth, becoming increasingly interested in this silver-haired stranger.

But she didn't show any reaction and continued to listen attentively to the lesson.

Although the little demon next to her was so nervous that she was about to faint.

“But this lesson is meaningless to you.” Pegasus shook his head. “It’s just a course designed for young children who are not yet familiar with how human society works. How to escape from a crowd, how to avoid fatal injuries, how to ensure your weapons are in good working order when facing an enemy for the first time…”