After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 0

The City of Saint Lightford

At the gates of this ancient human imperial city, a guard with a perpetually displeased expression abruptly drew the iron sword at his waist and strode toward a stationary carriage.

Before he could speak, however, a plainly dressed old man—who looked more like a farmer—hurriedly climbed down from the carriage. His weathered hands fumbled nervously as he rushed toward the guard.

He untied a worn pouch from his belt and slowly poured out two silver coins, their engravings long since rubbed away from years of handling.

“Please… have mercy…”

His voice trembled as he spoke, his body shaking involuntarily.

The guard’s scowl deepened, wrinkles forming between his furrowed brows. He snatched the coins from the old man’s hand—then struck him across the face. The force of the blow sent a few gray whiskers fluttering through the air, and the frail old man crumpled into the wagon tracks like a broken puppet.

“This isn’t enough.”

“But… wasn’t it… two silver coins?”

The old man struggled to rise, confusion and fear lacing his voice. He distinctly remembered paying only two silver coins the last time he entered the city. Had the price gone up again?

“Gold coins! Gold coins!”

The guard yanked the old man up by his collar. Nearby merchants, travelers, and even refugees shrank back, afraid of provoking the brutish soldier and suffering unjust consequences.

The guard pointed to a notice posted at the city gates, which clearly read: “As of July in the 224th year of the Holy Maiden’s Calendar, entry requires one gold coin.” The old man opened his mouth, then closed it again. He knew no amount of pleading would matter—only a gold coin would suffice.

A mustachioed merchant nearby pulled a gold coin from his pocket, flashed it to the crowd, and placed it in another guard’s palm. Instantly, the guard’s expression softened into obsequious delight as he led the merchant’s horse inside.

Andrud, his aged white hair peeking out from beneath a tattered black cloak, followed the guard’s gesture to the notice. He rummaged through his pockets—nothing but a book, a black oval stone, and a few materials. No gold coins.

“How did I spend it all so quickly?”

He muttered to himself, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t scrounge up a single gold coin.

Silently, he withdrew from the line and slipped to the base of the city wall. Flipping open his book, he passed effortlessly through the stone barrier.

Andrud’s destination was a modest house tucked away in a corner of the imperial city—the home of his comrade from a century ago, Hertis, the otherworldly hero.

His purpose? To share a drink with the hero, reminisce about old times, and maybe show off his latest magical invention… though that wasn’t the main reason.

Andrud pulled out the black oval stone from his robe. It wasn’t just a rock—its surface was covered in densely packed, miniature triangular barriers, arranged in such a way that it appeared smooth and elliptical to the naked eye.

This was no work of human hands.

“In the year 798 of the Chaos Calendar, the Demon King swallowed most of the world. The land was scorched, and human cities were reduced to ashes…”

A distant voice gently pulled Andrud from his thoughts. He turned slowly, his gaze settling on a towering three-story structure that loomed before him.

The building stood solemnly in a corner of the imperial city—a church. Its ancient, elegant façade radiated sacred dignity under the sunlight.

“In those dark times, three heroes rose.”

“The Hero, Hertis.”

“The Holy Maiden, Alegraya.”

“And a nameless Archmage, whom we honor as the Sage.”

“For decades, they fought, until at last, they stood before the Demon King’s castle.”

Drawn by the voice, Andrud stepped inside the church.

As he crossed the threshold, his eyes were immediately drawn to the ceiling, where sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the vaulted dome. The dazzling interplay of light and shadow was mesmerizing—a divine blessing from the Holy Maiden herself.

But as his gaze drifted downward, it settled on a crown-wearing, faceless statue at the center of the church. The light from above bathed the figure in radiance.

“Alegraya…”

Staring at the statue, Andrud’s aged face flickered with nostalgia—and a trace of barely concealed anger.

A nun stood nearby, cradling a heavy tome, surrounded by a dozen children as she recounted the tale of the Demon King and the saviors.

“The Sage shattered the Demon King’s magic with forbidden spells. The Hero severed the Demon King’s crown. The Holy Maiden purged the land of darkness with her light. That day, holy radiance, magic, and sword energy clashed above the Demon King’s castle—so fiercely that even the kingdom’s greatest Archmages dared not approach.”

“Sister… how did it end?”

A child, hearing the story for the first time, raised his hand, eyes brimming with curiosity.

The other children, though they had heard the tale countless times, showed no signs of boredom. Instead, they leaned forward eagerly, waiting for the nun to continue.

“But the Demon King was powerful. Even the three heroes together could not defeat him.”

“Then, the Holy Maiden found the path to divinity.”

“On that day, the sky erupted in a light unlike any before—a sacred radiance from the gods themselves. It surged like a tidal wave, swallowing the raging magic and sword energy in an instant.”

“Under this divine power, the Demon King’s domain was bathed in an invisible brilliance. Lands once shrouded in darkness were now steeped in warmth and hope. The Demon King and his minions trembled before the holy light, their strength rendered insignificant.”

“Witnessing this miracle, the people were awestruck. They saw Alegraya walking with the gods. They saw justice triumph over evil. Under the light, the world was reborn, and peace returned to the war-torn land.”

“From that day on, Alegraya’s name was sung by all. Her faith spread among the people. Her light touched every heart.”

The nun’s face glowed with unrestrained reverence, her eyes alight with devotion, as if she herself had witnessed Alegraya’s glory.

She closed the book, clasped her hands in prayer, and knelt before the faceless statue.

“That victory, led by holy light, became a legend for the ages… Praise the Holy Maiden.”

“But if all three were so great, why is only the Holy Maiden remembered?”

A child, older and more perceptive than the others, raised his hand. The question was sharp—unexpected. The nun hesitated before answering:

“Because the Hero left the kingdom to wander the world. And the Sage… perished in the battle against the Demon King. Most importantly, the Holy Maiden ascended to godhood. Her soul is forever etched into this world.”

Andrud, listening from the shadows, gave a slow nod. Though the details differed slightly from what he knew, the essence was the same. Alegraya had kept her promise. In this story, he had no name, no grand deeds—only a heroic death.

Because of that, he had escaped the clutches of scheming nobles and spent the last century traveling freely. Unlike their beloved Hero, who, after marrying the princess, was doomed to rot in this imperial city.

Having heard enough, Andrud tightened his grip on his book, ready to leave before unpleasant memories resurfaced.

But then—

A deafening bell toll exploded in his ears. No, not in his ears—in his mind. No matter how tightly he covered them, the sound would not fade.

Andrud narrowed his eyes. The nun and the children stood undisturbed.

Then the source must be—

His gaze lifted slowly, meeting the faceless statue’s empty visage. The moment their eyes would have locked, the phantom bell ceased.

Then—

The statue’s crown erupted in a burst of blinding radiance, engulfing Andrud entirely.

“I knew it was you!! Alegraya—”

He could never forget her face. Not after decades of fighting side by side. And not after…

He glanced at his book, ready to unleash his fury—but Alegraya spoke first.

“Andrud, danger is coming.”

His anger dissipated instantly. His expression hardened into one of grim focus.

“Them?”

Alegraya nodded.

“Their numbers have grown these past ten years—more than ever before.”

“Yes, my dear Andrud. I’m glad your instincts remain sharp despite the long peace. It is them…”

Her luminous form flickered. Time was running out.

Then—

A sound like shattering glass echoed through the sacred dome.

Andrud’s unspoken question died in his throat as his eyes locked onto the cracks spreading across the void—golden veins now tainted by a viscous purple substance, spreading like ink in water.

Alegraya whirled, her robes flaring as golden sigils flared at her fingertips—

But before they could fully form, a crystalline violet light tore through the barrier.

The holy light held—briefly. But the corruption spread too fast.

Andrud’s book floated before him, its dark text dissolving into intangible streams of time. The world around them blurred, as if veiled in mist. Time itself grew sluggish, heavy.

“Forbidden spell—”

Before he could finish, he saw golden particles burst from Alegraya’s chest. Then he looked down—

Purple light speared through his own.

No pain. Only an inescapable cold spreading through his veins, frost crawling beneath his skin.

He tried to look up—

Alegraya’s crumbling form blocked his view.

“Don’t look.”

Holy light enveloped them both—

And in the next instant, they stood in a remote forest.

Alegraya’s phantom shattered into glowing fragments, settling over Andrud like a shroud.

“I’m sorry…”

Her final whisper was lost to him.

“Am I… dying?”

“The Demon King couldn’t kill me, and now I die like this?”

“Cough…”

His vision dimmed. One hand clutched his book. With the last of his strength, he reached into the air—

Countless golden motes slipped through his fingers, landing on the black stone embedded in his chest.

“What was it they used to say?”

“…What a damn joke.”