After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 20

The evening breeze drifted lazily across the vast, endless grassland as the last rays of the setting sun slowly faded. Night fell like a great expanse of deep blue silk, gently draping over this green sea.

The grassland sank into tranquility, yet it was far from lifeless. In the distance, the chatter and laughter of villagers added a touch of vitality to the silent plains.

A bonfire crackled nearby, its flickering flames licking at the night sky and casting a warm glow on the villagers’ simple, honest faces. They gathered around the fire, where roasted beef and mutton sizzled on skewers. Clutching steaming cups of milk tea, they shared stories of the hardships they had endured in recent years.

Some of the men spoke of Elbard’s oppressive rule; some of the women whispered tearfully of the suffering they had endured, both physical and emotional; others sat on the grass, gazing silently at the starry sky; a few played with children they had been separated from for years.

The children laughed and played near the bonfire, chasing each other and tumbling about. Their innocent laughter echoed under the night sky—for many, it was the first time in years they could see the moon and stars without looking through a window, and the first time they could run freely across the grassland without a care in the world.

This, it seemed, was what life on these grasslands was meant to be.

For so long, under Elbard’s tyranny, everyone had been forced to wear masks and live with caution. Now, the villagers had regained their freedom—and so had Schubert.

Schubert had finally taken off his “mask.” The smile on his face was no longer forced, as it had been when facing Elbard. He sat to the side, quietly taking in the scene before him, feeling genuine joy at this vibrant picture of life.

Lance sat quietly beside Schubert, somewhat clumsily turning the mutton roasting over the fire.

“Schubert, come help! I can’t handle this.”

He poked Schubert, who snapped out of his thoughts and hurried to help turn the meat.

“Even after all these years, I still can’t get the hang of roasting this stuff.”

Sparks flew, and Lance flinched away, drawing laughter from the villagers nearby.

After about ten minutes, the rich aroma of roasted meat filled the air, drifting into the nostrils of everyone nearby.

Schubert took a small knife, sliced off a piece of meat, and tasted it carefully. Satisfied with the flavor, he expertly sprinkled on some salt and began carving the meat into portions. Lance worked in tacit agreement tandem, taking the slices from Schubert and distributing them to the gathered villagers. He whispered something in each villager’s ear as he handed them their share.

The villagers nodded slightly. Even without Lance’s words, they had already intended to do just that.

Renith did not step forward, but she still received a portion. She took a couple of bites—it really was quite good.

Once the meat had been mostly distributed, Lance whispered something else to Schubert. Schubert scratched his cheek; he wanted to refuse, but he knew he couldn’t win an argument with Lance.

“Ahem… everyone!”

Schubert’s voice cut through the night at an awkward moment. All eyes turned to him, filled with expectation.

“Elbard’s heavy and brutal rule has long pressed upon our hearts like a giant rock, nearly suffocating us. Yet today, through unyielding will and united strength, we have shattered the barriers of his tyranny!”

“What does this signify?! It means that even in the face of arrogant power, we have the ability to overcome it!”

Appl broke out around him, led, of course, by Lance.

“In this struggle, every one of our comrades gave their all. But here, I must especially thank one person.”

Schubert walked over to Renith, gently tugged on her robe, and led her through the crowd to the very center.

“This mage is our hero. Without the magic scrolls she provided, we would still be Elbard’s slaves—humiliated, plundered, and sold by him!”

“She gave us the power to overcome the ‘Chosen One,’ she liberated us from Elbard’s grasp. She truly deserves to be our leader!”

The villagers, however, did not respond. They seemed reluctant to accept Renith as their leader.

Renith shook her head. She stepped back from the center, pushing Schubert into the spotlight instead. She had only offered a helping hand; it was Schubert who had truly killed Elbard, freed the imprisoned children and villagers, and united the people’s hearts.

Schubert looked surprised and was about to speak when Renith interrupted: “Friends, in all this, I only delayed the ‘Chosen One’ and provided a few scrolls. Everything you see around you was the result of Lance’s planning, carried out by Schubert and Roan.”

“I am merely a passerby, and I will be leaving soon. Lance, Schubert, and Roan are the ones who truly deserve to be your leaders. Surely, compared to a stranger like me, these three are more in line with your wishes, aren’t they?”

The villagers nodded in agreement with Renith’s words.

Then Lance stepped forward.

“I believe this young lady is right, but there’s one thing that needs correction. I only proposed a simple strategy—it was Schubert who put it into action. He should be the leader.”

“Lance!”

Schubert pulled Lance aside and asked softly why he had said that.

Panic began to creep into Schubert’s heart. He and Lance had originally agreed to support Renith as leader, but now things seemed to be going off-script.

“Do you hear that, Schubert?”

Before he knew it, the villagers behind him had grown fervent. They raised their fists high, their eyes burning with passion, all focused intently on Schubert. In unison, they chanted powerfully: “Leader! Leader!”

“They all want you to be the leader. You are the one they trust.”

Late that night, after Schubert and Lance had seen all the villagers home, Schubert finally approached Renith, who was sitting by the bonfire gazing at the night sky. He asked her for Roan’s body and gently placed it in a simple coffin prepared earlier by the villagers.

Schubert knew Roan’s preferences well—he had loved these grasslands, loved running and herding across them. So, Schubert decided to bury him there the next morning, in a spot where he could see the village and gaze out at the distant plains.

“I never thought you would be the first among us to leave…”

Renith did not want to disturb Schubert, Lance, and Roan as they shared their memories, so she went to rest in the old village chief’s house, where the children had been settled earlier.

She wasn’t really tired, so she took out the spoils she had acquired during the day.

Two revolvers, and a few bullets.

The base of the revolvers was engraved with a few small words: [Bolan Firearms Manufacturing].

Why wasn’t Giro’s shotgun among them?

Renith had originally intended to take it, but the gun seemed to be a product of “divine blessing.” The moment she touched it, it exploded.

After briefly learning how to load and fire the revolvers, Renith lost interest and tossed them back into her dimensional space.

In terms of convenience and destructive power, they certainly surpassed most magic. They would be an excellent choice for a surprise attack. But against an opponent of Renith’s caliber, they were practically useless.

“Though I’ve heard there are more powerful firearms out there…”

Renith rubbed her temples. She could think about that later. She sat cross-legged and entered a meditative state. All fear stemmed from insufficient strength.

Early the next morning, as dawn broke.

Renith left a note, bid a brief farewell to Schubert and Lance, and headed alone to Elbard’s residence. Nosk was lying on Elbard’s large bed, resting with his eyes closed.

Sensing Renith’s presence, he sprang up like a coil, his eyes snapping open with a mix of drowsiness and alertness. He raised a hand and greeted her casually.

“Yo~ Finally here, huh? Kept me waiting long enough,” he said, his voice lazy and teasing.

Renith took one look at him and guessed he wasn’t fully awake yet.

So, she gracefully raised a hand, drew a revolver from her codex, twirled it deftly with her slender fingers, and aimed it squarely at Nosk’s head.

Nosk’s back stiffened. He raised his hands, fine beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

“No, no, just joking.”

“I preferred your arrogant and unyielding demeanor.”

Renith put the revolver away.

“Heh, you must be joking. I was never arrogant or unruly…”

Renith didn’t want to waste more words on him, so she got straight to the point.

“First question: How did you know I’m not a Transgressor? Even Layla didn’t recognize me, so how could you tell at a glance?”

Renith prided herself on her flawless disguise. She had never given any sign of her true identity in front of others. Moreover, she had the cover of “Appraisal”—even Layla, a Transgressor herself, hadn’t seen through her.

Yet Nosk had identified her as a native with just one look.

“Simple. It’s my ability. I can sense that other Transgressors are fundamentally different from you natives. Perhaps because you’ve lived in an environment rich with mana and aura for so long, your cells—even the depths of your bones—are saturated with them.”

Nosk got up, put on his jacket, and invited Renith to discuss over tea.

“As for Transgressors, no matter how hard we train in magic or aura, we can never achieve your level of depth.”

Renith sat on a round chair and accepted a cup of steaming coffee.

“Do you all prefer drinking this?”

“Nah, just a personal preference.”

Nosk poured pure milk into his own coffee and asked if Renith wanted some. She declined.

“This is fine as it is.”

Renith took a sip and continued:

“Second question: How did you come to this world?”

Nosk didn’t even think before answering:

“Well, I don’t know. A voice suddenly appeared in my head, I agreed, and then I came here. That’s all I know.”

He caught the look in Renith’s eyes that suggested she might eat him alive, so he quickly added:

“But I do have a bold guess. Have you noticed that almost everyone who comes here is burdened with sin? Take me, for example—before I came here, I killed someone…”