After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 13

The train rumbled loudly, its vibrations trembling along the tracks as it slowly pulled into the station.

Coal burned fiercely in the locomotive’s furnace, belching thick black smoke into the air. The smoke twisted and spread, adding a layer of heaviness and desolation to the cold winter morning.

Standing quietly on the platform in patched-up clothes was Schubert. His gaze pierced through the thin mist, fixed on the approaching train. There was no childlike curiosity or excitement in his eyes—only deep sorrow and weight. The final image of his father surfaced in his mind—a man who had repaired railways to keep his family alive, an “unknown hero.”

Not just “unknown.”

Not a “hero.”

Yet, at this moment, Schubert felt only a suffocating pressure in his chest. He was about to board this very train, one built upon the blood and life of his father, heading toward the distant West.

His heart felt as if crushed by a boulder, each beat accompanied by pain and struggle. How he wished he had the strength to smash this massive steel beast to pieces, if only to ease the torment inside. But these emotions were too complex, too heavy for a boy his age—he couldn’t even name them properly.

Hatred.

Schubert’s mother stood silently beside him. She saw the sorrow and struggle in her son’s eyes and gently covered them with her hand, as if trying to shield him from the pain.

“It won’t be long, it won’t be long… We’ll get off soon,” she whispered, feeling the warmth of Schubert’s tears seeping through her palm.

Her own heart was a storm of emotions—grief for her lost husband, heartache for her son’s suffering, and fear for the future. It all weighed on her, but she knew she had to stay strong. She had to be her son’s unwavering support.

Forcing a smile, she pointed to the crowd behind them.

“Look, there are children your age over there. Why don’t you go say hello?”

Schubert agreed readily. If it was what his mother wanted, he would do it. He didn’t want to make her sad. He couldn’t bear to lose her too.

As soon as she spoke, Schubert quickly wiped his tears and strode confidently toward a boy whose clothes were just as ragged and hair just as unkempt as his own.

“Hi, I’m Schubert. I’m nine. What’s your name?”

The boy’s parents flinched at Schubert’s sudden approach, instinctively pulling their child closer, their eyes wary and confused.

The boy himself trembled, tears welling up instantly, as if on the verge of bursting into sobs. His small hands clutched at his parents’ sleeves, his gaze fearful—perhaps because Schubert looked a little rough, or maybe because his voice was too loud.

Seeing the boy on the brink of tears, Schubert’s stern expression faltered. Panic flickered across his face as he scrambled for a solution.

Rubbing his forehead, he fumbled through his pockets—this was exactly the kind of situation he was bad at handling. Finally, in a hidden corner of his pocket, his fingers brushed against something hard.

A piece of candy.

It had melted slightly from being carried so long, its wrapper sticky with sugary residue.

“Here… take this,” he said carefully, holding out the precious candy to the teary-eyed boy. “Don’t cry, okay? I was just joking.”

Making friends is harder than I thought. Schubert almost gave up.

The boy’s father, recovering from his initial surprise, noticed Schubert’s awkward kindness and understood. He bent down, whispering something encouraging into his son’s ear and giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Wiping his tears, the boy’s face slowly brightened into a smile. He took a small step forward.

“Sorry… I got scared just now. My name’s Lance. Do you… want to be friends?”

His voice was shy, but his eyes sparkled like stars.

Schubert’s heart reignited with hope, warmth flooding his chest.

“Yeah! I’m Schubert. Nice to meet you. This candy’s for you—let’s be good friends.”

Lance accepted the candy, carefully tucking it into his pocket.

“Th-thank you…”

Even though it was Schubert’s last piece, he didn’t mind.

“Friends don’t say thank you!”

“Right! Friends don’t say thank you!”

Suddenly, another boy—this one with slightly darker skin—burst from the crowd, throwing his arms around both of them.

“I wanna be friends too!”

His sudden appearance left Schubert stunned.

“You’re making friends, right? I’m Rowan!”

The boy grinned eagerly. Schubert figured more friends couldn’t hurt, so he nodded.

“I’m Schubert.”

Thrilled, Rowan slung an arm around Schubert’s shoulders.

“You guys riding the train too? My ma says these things are crazy fast—like, miles in a blink! I can’t even run that far in half a day!”

“Ever heard of the bison out West? They’re so strong, they can flip over cars!”

“Oh! And chocolate—you ever had it? They say the ‘Chosen’ invented it. Some’s bitter, some’s sweet…”

Unlike Lance, Rowan was a chatterbox. If someone ignored him, he’d just move to the next person. Now that he’d found Schubert and Lance, the floodgates were open.

Though their families had different reasons, all three boys were bound for the same destination—the distant West.

Over the long train ride, Schubert, Lance, and Rowan—three unfamiliar names—were drawn together by fate, forging a deep friendship. They shared dreams and secrets, becoming inseparable.

When the train finally arrived on the vast Western plains, it was like stepping into a painting. The sunset bathed the endless grassland in gold and emerald, a breathtaking sight. They ran together under the fading light, laughter echoing across the plains—the happiest, most unforgettable memory of their childhood.

But happiness never lasts.

The three eventually went their separate ways.

Until Alberod arrived.

Alberod, owner of two nearby breeding farms, came to their village with a declaration—he would buy their land and turn it into another farm. Rowan was the first to oppose him.

And the first to fall.

Before Rowan could even speak, a guard’s musket shot tore through his shoulder. In Schubert’s memory, it was the first time the talkative Rowan stayed silent, swallowing his broken teeth along with his words.

The villagers, cowed by the muskets, didn’t dare resist.

Alberod swaggered into the village they had built with their own hands, as if the land already belonged to him.

Schubert knew they couldn’t just wait for doom.

He went to find Lance.

Lance had been studying law in Mobius City, the newly built metropolis of the last forty years. His expertise might give them a sliver of hope. So Schubert and Rowan boarded a train to Mobius without hesitation.

A day and a half later, the three reunited.

“Damn it all!”

Rowan, now with a thick beard, chugged cheap ale as if drowning his rage. His right shoulder was wrapped in bandages—the musket wound had cost him most of his savings at a Mobius clinic.

“So what now? Forget driving Alberod out—how do we just save the village?”

Schubert was realistic. In this rigid hierarchy, ordinary people stood no chance against even the lowest noble.

Lance pondered for a long time but had no answer.

For the first time, he felt the uselessness of pen and paper.

“I say we gather a group and kick Alberod out ourselves! He’s only got a dozen men. We outnumber them!”

“Won’t work, Rowan. You saw it—no one else will step up.”

Schubert deflated first.

“So… there’s really no way?”

Rowan took another swig, his cheeks flushing.

Silence fell. The three of them, trying to fight a noble—how laughable.

They parted ways that night.

The next evening, disaster struck.

Rowan led a group of villagers in an attack on Alberod. Though Alberod was stabbed in the chest, the rebels were captured or killed. Rowan escaped in the chaos.

Enraged, Alberod abandoned his plan to turn the village into a farm. Instead, he marched his guards in, seizing every able-bodied man and child.

The children were confined.

The men, after a whipping, were thrown into his breeding farms, forced to work endlessly.

Most understood—Alberod was making them suffer twice over for his pain.

Two years later, short on servants, Alberod visited the farms. He picked the most obedient worker—Schubert—to serve in his household.

For three years, Schubert witnessed the cruelty of nobility. Seeds of rebellion took root, but he had no power, no backing, no courage.

Until he met a mage in a pale blue robe.

Hope rekindled.

Schubert decided to gamble everything.

With Rowan (now lame) and Lance (practicing law in a town an hour and a half away by train), he sought out the mage.

After a few questions, the mage handed them several scrolls, explaining how to use them.

Clutching the scrolls, Schubert thought of his father.

Now, like him, he was risking everything for his family, for his village.

Maybe… this was what made a hero.