Encrid lifted his face to the falling rain. It pattered down, washing the blood from his body, and seemed to wrap itself around his weary frame. It was much like the feeling he sometimes had when he slept with Esther in his arms.

'Did Esther do something?'

It seemed so. He could tell from the count's reaction and the demon's words.

The rain did not grow heavier, but continued without pause. Water pooled on the ground and formed little streams that washed away the blood.

They had broken through ten thousand wraiths and cut down the count. It sounded simple put into words, but it could hardly be dismissed as a simple task. It was an accomplishment worthy of recognition. A feat worthy of acclaim.

Encrid caught his breath in the rain, then retrieved the broken half of Silver. Looking at the count's corpse, he set his stiff body in motion. Only now was Audin moving again as the paralysis from his bindings released him.

"Well done, brother."

"You too."

A simple exchange. Audin strode over to the dead count, knelt on one knee, and clasped his hands in prayer. Offering prayers for the dead was a priest's duty. Even if this man's life had been filled with nothing but sin, he wished him a chance to remain beside the Lord and repent.

"May he remain at Your side and receive Your teachings."

The god Audin believed in enjoyed punishing sinners. His teachings amounted more to personally beating them senseless. The Lord's fists and feet would help the sinner repent. That was what it sounded like.

"May you find peace there."

Would there be any peace?

Encrid wondered as he listened.

Ragna staggered briefly as he rose. He let out no groan, but his body was clearly in no condition to function normally. Even he had pushed himself too far. His sword was ruined, and most of his protective gear was torn or broken. Fortunately, no one was in any position to mock him.

Jaxon had a hole in his abdomen as well. Yet his expression remained composed as he slowly braced a hand against the ground and rose.

"It's over."

There was something bittersweet in his words, a rare glimpse of emotion. Had he wanted to stab the count himself? Perhaps he had.

The rain continued. Encrid looked at Rem, the only one still stubbornly seated. Rem looked back at him.

What are you doing? Get up.

Encrid asked with his eyes. After a long deliberation that had begun some time ago, Rem finally spoke.

"Captain."

"What?"

"I'll grant you the honor of carrying me on your back."

In other words, he could not walk on his own.

"That little bit was enough to stop you walking?"

Ragna apparently could not hold his tongue.

"A frail constitution?"

Jaxon added his contribution.

"You must not have been training enough."

Audin's concern landed with devastating force.

"The captain will want to thank me. I'm just giving him a chance."

Of course, no words could penetrate Rem's thick skin. Encrid did not understand everything that had happened, but he recognized that Rem had pushed himself harder than anyone else. And that was indeed the case.

Rem had used spells even before they formed their battle formation, taking another person's spells and using them as he pleased. It was considered one of the most dangerous acts in shamanism. It was tantamount to stealing someone else's invocations.

He had altered totems the Ageless Madman had made for his own use and forced them to work for him. Having pushed himself to use them, suffering a backlash was only natural. On top of that, he had served as the coordinator at the center of their battle formation. That was even more demanding than Audin's role as its foundation. Of course his body was screaming.

He could have stood and walked if he were willing to endure the damage to his body, but he saw no reason to. He also thought that after doing this much, he deserved to be carried.

'It looks like it'll be fun.'

He was also eager to recover quickly. He had seen Encrid's final stroke, the moment he cut down the count.

'The sooner I recover, the sooner we can spar.'

Encrid had rubbed off on Rem without his noticing, and now he, too, wanted to cross blades with him. He would do it properly, with his body in perfect condition. So he was going to be carried.

Despite his matter-of-fact tone, his eyes blazed. His determination to be carried back, no matter what, seemed strong enough to evaporate the rain.

"Does my body look fine to you?"

Encrid asked evenly.

"Better than mine."

Rem was shameless.

What a crazy bastard.

Even so, Encrid intended to carry him. He had done enough to deserve that much. Fortunately, Encrid did not have to do it himself.

"I'll carry you."

When had they arrived? Dunbachel and Teresa were there, catching their breath after running over. Dunbachel stepped forward.

"Go ahead."

Rem did not insist. It did not really matter who carried him.

Dunbachel took Rem onto her back while Encrid made a cursory check of things around them. The rain kept falling. He and his companions began walking toward their camp.

The path they had carved through the wraiths was shorter than he expected. It had felt as though they had come a great distance while breaking through, but on the way back, it was a short walk. The enemy was silent, their allies more silent still. They retraced that quiet path, the one they had opened with their own hands.

Everyone watched them. Encrid and his companions paid no attention to anyone's gaze.

Krang approached them. Though soaked through, he did not look like a drowned rat. He was not smiling, nor was he intoxicated with victory. His expression gave no clue to his thoughts. Only his wavering eyes betrayed him. His bearing and expression were composed, but he could not hide the emotion in his eyes.

* * *

Just before the count died, the soldiers were fighting both the Wraith soldiers and the wraiths trying to possess their bodies. They fought and fought, endured and endured.

'When will it end?'

The limits of their stamina.

'Maybe I'd be better off dead.'

The limits of their mental endurance.

Their bodies and minds were reaching their limits, and the Wraith soldiers kept coming endlessly, apparently without fear. They attacked indiscriminately, whether their victims belonged to the royal army or the count's. Before that tide of wraiths that distinguished neither friend nor foe, the two opposing armies mingled as they fought.

Even those who had distinguished themselves were reaching the limits of their endurance. Amid it all, the soldiers saw terrible nightmares and visions.

"Die, die, die, die, die."

It was neither a nightmare nor a vision. They were seeing the people fighting Count Molsen. Esther's spell had exerted its influence and become entangled with the count's, producing a strange phenomenon. Most of the soldiers present witnessed Encrid's battle.

Marcus saw it too.

'Win.'

He silently urged him on.

Aesia, too, clenched her fists as she watched.

'I should have been there too!'

But she could not simply leave. That fellow called a Shepherd, who had turned up from who knew where, was doing well, but the prince would be in danger if she withdrew.

Unlike Aesia, Dunbachel and Teresa ran the moment they saw what was happening. Whether they became meat shields or struck the enemy from behind by surprise, they had to be there.

Andrew could not bring himself to move. Esther had yet to rise, and he judged that guarding this spot was his duty. He could only watch.

The soldiers did not even have the strength to shout that they were saved.

"Hah..."

Most collapsed, gasping for breath. Even those who had barely held out sank to the ground where they stood. They had no strength left to cheer for victory. The falling rain soaked their bodies.

At least the rain was a blessing. Somehow, it felt as though it were washing the wraiths' lingering energy from their bodies. And it was. That was Esther's doing.

By the time Esther opened her eyes in reality, she understood what had happened. The count had tried to summon his spell world onto this land, but was such a thing possible? No. It had only happened because of the demon's intervention, but in the end it had been a stupid thing to do.

Even if he had succeeded, the fucking idiot of a mage would probably have lost his body and gone on doing idiotic things under its thrall. Things like turning every citizen of the kingdom into an experimental subject, just as he had created chimeras. He might have done even worse. Was that not the nature of a demon's whispers?

Unable to unravel every spell made with the demon's borrowed power, Esther had used most of her remaining mana to make it rain. In the process, the count's image must have appeared in the soldiers' minds.

Esther had seen it too. The madman who had cut down the count, then tried to cut down the demon as well. She felt the need to explain to him just how dangerous a demon was.

As Krang watched Encrid fight, he repeated words to himself. His palms did not sweat. He simply waited. There was nothing he could do here.

Did that make him feel helpless? No. He had his own stage. This stage, at this moment, simply required his friend to step forward. All Krang could do was trust him, and keep trusting.

'I believe in you.'

His faith was not betrayed. His trust was rewarded.

Rain poured down, and the wraiths faded. Krang stepped out among the soldiers who had survived, walking forward without a word.

"My lord?"

Marcus called to him, but he did not stop. Only when he stood face-to-face with the returning Encrid did Krang halt. After a brief pause, he spoke.

"Give praise to the heroes who saved us."

His voice was soft and low. Following behind him, Marcus agreed with those words. Nor was he alone. Aesia, limping after them, found herself nodding as well.

Looking at Encrid, Krang drew a breath and braced his stomach. His voice had been far too quiet.

"Give praise to the heroes who saved us!"

His voice carried. It was one of Krang's specialties: a shout powered by all the strength he could muster in his belly.

"Oh..."

One soldier lifted his head, weeping. Rain fell onto his face.

"Ooooooh!"

"We're alive!"

"To the heroes!"

"To the Lunatic Company!"

Their cries mingled until the words became indistinguishable. The shout seemed powerful enough to scatter the falling rain for an instant. Such was its fervor.

At the heart of that fervor, one old commander disliked the lack of unity in their cries. Had he not seen it too? The count turning into a demon, and their hero cutting it down? He shouted from the heart.

"Everyone, repeat after me!"

Many soldiers followed his lead. Was he not the man whose command had allowed them to hold out to the very end against the swarming wraiths? To them, he too was unquestionably a hero.

"Demon Slayer!"

A demon's killer. Let the might of the man who slew a demon be known far and wide!

The soldiers around the commander joined his cry.

"Demon Slayer!"

Their cries quickly spread to those around them.

"Demon Slayer!"

"Demon Killer!"

The rain continued. Though it had initially answered Esther's mana, this was rain that would have fallen anyway. Dark clouds filled the sky, leaving no bright sunlight. Yet everyone saw something shining.

If a man who had killed a demon, banished the wraiths, and ended the war did not shine, what did?

"Demon Killer!"

Had the demon, who was not actually dead, heard that title, it would have ground its sharp fangs in outrage.

Encrid listened blankly and said,

"I didn't kill the demon."

"Strictly speaking, Noble Killer would be more accurate."

Rem's comment was grounded in fact.

"Killer of a Demon’s Servant would be correct."

Audin offered his opinion too. From a religious perspective, their opponent's identity was clear. That was how Audin saw it.

"Who gives a damn?"

Ragna dismissed the nonsense with his matter-of-fact opinion. Jaxon remained silent as usual.

Dunbachel briefly wondered how vicious Rem's retaliation would be if she hurled him off her back right now, then abandoned the idea. Teresa privately agreed with Audin.

Only then did Krang smile gently. Encrid and every last one of his companions deserved to be called heroes. And over the course of their journey to the capital, Krang had already learned what crazy bastards they were.

'Still as mad as ever.'

That was what he thought as he smiled.

Encrid nodded calmly. He had not read Krang's mind, but he considered himself the sanest of the group.

"Thank you, you maddest bastard of all."

That was why Krang's words nearly caught him off guard. Encrid had been ready to attack immediately even when a demon emerged from the dead count, but this left him nonplussed. Who was the maddest?

"You've become a hero who saved the kingdom."

Krang bowed as he continued. It was an extraordinary mark of respect from a prince who would become the king of a nation. All the nearby soldiers were watching, too.

Encrid was utterly exhausted. He had no mental energy left to give anyone special treatment, prince or otherwise.

"That's enough."

He took the prince by the shoulders and straightened him up. He had done what needed doing. The acclaim filled him with pride, and he appreciated Krang's gesture. There was just one thing he needed to clear up.

"Why am I the maddest one?"

When that bastard Rem was right here?

Krang burst out laughing at his friend's question.

"Hahaha! Come on. Let's eat, drink, and rest. You can empty the palace's stores for all I care!"

Cries of survival and victory rang out amid the chants of Demon Killer. The enemy soldiers who had belonged to the count's army quietly threw down their weapons.

The civil war was over.