After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 2

Dawn

At dawn, as the sun rose, countless radiant beams of sunlight spread like a gentle tapestry, softly dispelling the last lingering chill of winter.

The tangled trees and undergrowth, after enduring the long silence of a harsh winter, seemed to awaken overnight, eagerly sprouting tender green buds.

She slowly opened her eyes, retrieving an ink-stained quill from the pages of the book. On the first page of the Codex, she crossed out “Arnud” and wrote the name “Ryneth” in its place.

After pondering all night, she still had no answer as to why she had become like this. But if all things in this world had cause and effect, then her rebirth undoubtedly signified some unfinished mission awaiting her.

Recalling her last exchange with Aleghia—who had pointed out those people, the ones seeking to disrupt the peace and stability between the continents—her purpose was clear: to drive them out, every last one of them!

Arnud—no, Ryneth—suddenly stood up, the blanket wrapped around her whisked away by the wind. Her bare body faced the rising sun, and just as she was about to spread her arms, a faint chill in the breeze made her realize: she was completely naked.

Hmm… Maybe this requires a bit more planning.

Ryneth’s cheeks flushed involuntarily. She quickly curled up and retrieved spare clothes from the book’s dimensional space. Fortunately, she was somewhat sentimental—items carrying memories of the past had been carefully preserved, including the full uniform she wore as a mage’s apprentice at sixteen.

Back then, she had already been 165 cm tall, so the clothes were slightly oversized on her current frame—but still far better than nothing.

She slipped on the snow-white shirt, neatly fastening the collar, her dark hair falling over the light-blue mage’s robe. Though the robe was somewhat worn, its edges even slightly faded, it still carried an air of dignity.

Rolling up the overly long pant legs, she revealed a slender stretch of her shins, then stepped into simple gray cloth shoes. Each footfall pressed firmly into the uneven earth, emitting a soft rustling sound.

“Codex, page 114… Ahem… Water Magic—Mirror Illusion.”

Phyllof’s voice drifted from the book, though for some reason, it trembled slightly. After haltingly reciting the incantation, a water mirror materialized before Ryneth.

Setting facts aside… it doesn’t look half bad.

Phyllof discreetly wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye, deeply moved to see Arnud—no, Lady Ryneth—reinvigorated. Quickly composing herself, she emerged from the book’s pages.

“Ar—Lady Ryneth, it’s an honor to serve you.”

Ryneth frowned at the sight of Phyllof’s face. She detested that pitiful expression more than anything.

(Though she disliked Aleghia even more.)

Why?

Back in the year 783 of the Chaos Calendar, when Ryneth was still Arnud, she had decided to compile her profound understanding of magic into a grimoire.

Thus, she personally organized and wrote the first 140 pages of the Codex, documenting not only her years of magical research but also her unique insights into the nature of magic.

After completing the Codex, she embedded the continent’s finest four-colored mana crystals into its cover, intending to forge it into a supreme grimoire.

And as everyone knew, the more advanced a magical artifact, the closer its manifested spirit would resemble its creator’s ideal—depending on the care invested in its nurturing.

But that bastard Aleghia, under the guise of “kindness,” secretly used holy light to accelerate the spirit’s gestation. Two years later, Phyllof was born—bearing a 70% resemblance to that damned Aleghia!

At the time, Ryneth had briefly wondered if she harbored some secret affection for Aleghia, hence the spirit taking her form. But she knew better—she felt not a shred of admiration, let alone improper thoughts, toward Aleghia.

After much deliberation, she confronted Aleghia.

As the only one in their group capable of hastening a spirit’s birth, Aleghia explained everything. Ryneth finally understood why the spirit resembled her.

Every time she saw Phyllof, she wanted to smack her flat. But this spirit was the product of painstaking effort—destroying her would render the grimoire useless.

Sigh.

Ryneth snapped out of her thoughts, exhaling inwardly. What was done was done.

She walked to an open area, glanced around, then beckoned Phyllof over.

Obediently, Phyllof alighted on Ryneth’s shoulder. Being a being of holy light, she weighed practically nothing.

“Lady Ryneth, what are you… doing?”

Phyllof watched as Ryneth wrote words on the ground with a stick, thoroughly puzzled.

[I ask, you answer.]
[How long has it been since I was injured?]

“Thirty years. You’ve been dormant here for thirty years, Lady Ryneth.”

Thirty years?!

The answer struck Ryneth like lightning. She had assumed she’d only been unconscious for a few days—not three decades.

Her gaze drifted to the massive black eggshell nearby, and her shock faded slightly.

Undoubtedly, she had emerged from that shell. Though she didn’t understand the specifics, thirty years was more than enough to gestate a demon.

The answer was obvious: the only demon here was herself.

“Actually, Lady Ryneth, you could use magic to assist your speech, or even—”

Ryneth’s brows furrowed deeper. She tapped Phyllof’s forehead lightly with the stick, then wrote:

[Do you think I don’t know that?! I can’t perform such delicate manipulations right now.]

The mana within her was far denser and more volatile than in her days as Arnud—wild and nearly uncontrollable.

A mixed blessing. The downside? Her current strength was only at an apprentice mage’s level, and her body had been transformed into that of a female demon. The upside? If she could master this power, combined with her past experience, she might truly ascend to godhood through her own talent.

[Second question: Do you know where we are?]

Suppressing her unease, Ryneth continued writing.

“This is a demon outpost on the outskirts of the Demon King’s Castle.”

The moment Phyllof spoke, Ryneth jolted as if struck by an invisible force. Her mana erupted like an unsealed torrent, surging uncontrollably.

Phyllof hastily positioned herself in front of Ryneth, flustered.

“Ah—Lady Ryneth, there’s no need for alarm! Over the past thirty years, I’ve scouted the area thoroughly. There are no traces of demons here—neither monsters nor actual demons… Well, except for you.”

Ryneth took a deep breath, gradually calming down.

Right. If there were any demons or monsters, I’d have been reduced to bones long before my rebirth.

Yet, the instant she released her mana, she sensed something amiss. The forest surrounding the Demon King’s Castle seemed enveloped in a barrier—one of exceptionally high-tier magic, the work of several archmages.

Ryneth strode toward the forest’s edge, her hand passing effortlessly through the barrier’s luminous curtain.

From her experience, this was a one-way barrier—anything could exit, but nothing could enter. Even the casters themselves would need to breach it from the outside. An excellent design overall.

Unfortunately, the barrier only blocked living beings, not spirits. Had she been involved in its creation, she’d have patched that loophole.

Given a few centuries, the history of the Demon King’s Castle would naturally fade into oblivion.

Hmm… Now that I think about it…

In the 25th year of the Holy Maiden Calendar, many had refused to acknowledge past humiliations, advocating the complete eradication of demons and the erasure of the Demon King’s Castle from history.

This barrier was likely a product of that decades-long endeavor.

But if the barrier is exit-only… how did I get in?

Closing her eyes, Ryneth carefully guided her mana along the barrier’s surface. After several minutes, she collapsed to the ground, panting heavily.

Her control over mana had indeed deteriorated significantly. Still, she found the barrier’s weak point—likely the result of her and Aleghia crashing through it long ago.

A faint smile touched Ryneth’s lips. Lucky I ended up in this forgotten ruin. Anywhere else, and I might’ve been boiled alive… or worse, become some predator’s dinner.

“Lady Ryneth, are we leaving?”

During her scouting, Phyllof had discovered this was once the Demon King’s Castle’s defensive forest. She hadn’t ventured far, fearing something might happen to Ryneth, so she’d only circled the forest’s edge.

Ryneth shook her head. She wasn’t ready to leave yet.

Since the Demon King’s fall and the Holy Maiden’s rise, humanity had gleaned advanced combat techniques from veteran warriors and mastered supreme magic from slain monsters, rapidly evolving within two centuries.

The pace of magical and martial progress was staggering. A mere decade could overturn old paradigms and birth entirely new ones.

By the time Ryneth had been struck down by that violet beam, even beginner mages were becoming obsolete. At her current strength, surviving on the continent would be a challenge.

And beyond the barrier lay the Demon King’s Castle’s defensive forest—who knew how many powerful treants and monsters lurked within? Back then, had it not been for Hestis’s might and potent alchemy, she and Aleghia would’ve likely perished at the castle gates.

This ruined, barrier-sealed castle might be desolate, but it was rich in mana and, more importantly, safe—an ideal place to study and regain her strength.

Besides, she vaguely recalled Hestis burying some “useless trinkets” here—things they hadn’t needed at the time.

With those “trinkets,” her past knowledge, and her current aptitude, she could become a full-fledged archmage within three months. Only then would she truly be ready to face those sinister figures.