Part 2
But he was currently playing the role of a Divine Envoy of the Church. Even if he knew nothing, he had to nod diligently.
Misha: “Haha, of course I know them!”
Lance: “…”
Misha felt a bit guilty. “Which myth are you talking about?”
“At the beginning of creation,” Lance said, “The God King took something from every monster.”
Misha: “…”
He was indeed familiar with this myth.
But to him, it wasn’t a myth.
It was a story that had actually happened at the dawn of the Divine Realm.
The God King had taken a small fragment of the monsters’ souls and stored them in the Divine Realm to serve as a medium for resurrecting them in the future. Since then, whenever a new monster was born, their soul would naturally be missing a corner, entrusted to the Divine Realm.
For a Demon King like Misha or a Divine Envoy like Arlo, the God King would personally take the ‘Primal Spirit’ from their souls at the moment of their birth and store it in the Divine Realm. This served as a guiding light for their return from the chaotic boundary to the Divine Realm.
This was the God King’s gift to them. Without this removed part of their soul, they couldn’t be resurrected after being killed by the Hero, and Misha could never return to the Divine Realm.
He didn’t know how the human world narrated this “myth,” so he looked at Lance seriously, waiting for his next words.
“He separated humans from monsters, thus dividing light and darkness into two entities,” Lance said. “Those with flawed souls fell into darkness, becoming the despised demons.”
Misha nodded.
Teacher Alisa had said something similar.
Lance said softly, “What gave God the right to do that?”
Misha: “…”
Lance looked at Ashby, who was squatting nearby. “What if his lust isn’t actually his fault?”
Misha: “…”
Whatever Lance said next, Misha felt it didn’t matter anymore.
He was terrified.
He felt that if one searched through the history of the gods, one wouldn’t find a second Hero who questioned them. Not long ago, Arlo had told him that an unqualified and out-of-control Hero might be directly destroyed by the High Gods.
He didn’t think the Hero had committed any sin worthy of death. If possible, he naturally wanted to protect the Hero’s life.
“Lord Lance!” Misha suddenly raised his voice, hurriedly interrupting Lance. “You are the Hero chosen by the gods. You shouldn’t say such things.”
Lance: “…”
“Without the gods, nothing in this world would exist.” Misha’s expression was solemn as he spoke to Lance. “The mountains, forests, waters, and winds of this world—”
Lance: “Which of those has anything to do with God?”
Misha: “…The sun, moon, and stars—”
Lance: “He doesn’t spin those either.”
Misha: “But… but the birth, aging, sickness, and death of all living things…”
Lance: “Just a natural cycle.”
Misha: “…”
Misha felt like he was listening to the words of an apostate.
He didn’t know why such a Hero had been chosen by the gods. He worried that since the God King was omniscient, Lance’s words might have already reached his ears.
He didn’t want the God King to send down punishment on Lance, so he was extremely anxious, wanting only to stop Lance’s blasphemy immediately.
“The God King is nearly omniscient,” Misha said frantically. “You really shouldn’t say this kind of thing!”
“Your God King,” Lance raised an eyebrow slightly. “Is nothing but a—”
He parted his lips slightly, about to spit out the next word, but Misha suddenly reached out and clamped his hand over Lance’s mouth.
But even so, from the breath Lance exhaled against his palm, he still clearly heard the muffled word he had suppressed.
—Liar.
He said the omniscient God King was a liar.
Misha was beyond shocked.
He shook his head at Lance, pleading with him not to say another word, while hurriedly turning to look at Ashby squatting nearby.
He felt Ashby must have heard what Lance just said. What Lance did tonight must have made Ashby extremely dissatisfied. He was afraid Ashby would report Lance’s words to the Divine Realm, leading to divine punishment.
Fortunately, Ashby just covered his ears and shivered, scooting a bit further away—he obviously wanted no part of this inexplicable mess. The business between the Hero and the Divine Realm had nothing to do with a poor demon like him. He didn’t want to get involved, and he certainly shouldn’t get involved.
Worried sick, Misha turned his gaze back to the Hero.
“Have you thought about the consequences?” Misha couldn’t express the exhaustion in his heart. “You are the savior in people’s hearts. If you—”
Lance interrupted him, asking, “Did you willingly want to become… a Divine Envoy from the start?”
Misha froze. “What?”
Lance paused, then corrected himself. “I forgot. You said that when you were young, you wanted to be a Demon King.”
Misha: “…”
He felt Lance’s words were getting stranger and stranger. He couldn’t understand the meaning behind them at all.
Lance shook his head again, ceasing his terrifying blasphemy. Instead, he looked up at the silent night sky once more.
A pale moon hung on the horizon, with faint stars visible. But it all looked somewhat bland—just a mundane scenery that few would pay attention to.
“Unchanging,” Lance whispered. “Your Divine Realm is hiding behind this dead night sky.”
Misha: “…”
Misha sighed weakly. “…Lord Lance.”
Lance smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anymore.”
True to his word, he dropped the subject and stopped looking at the sky. Instead, he leaned back against the altar and lay down, even scooting over to make some space for Misha.
“Sleep,” Lance said, closing his eyes. “We still have to go to Ashby’s domain tomorrow.”
Ashby: “…”
Misha: “…”
Misha couldn’t stop the worry in his heart.
He really couldn’t figure it out.
Before coming to this world, Teacher Alisa had told him that the mission in this world was simple and pure, and the Hero’s power stats were robust. She believed he would be able to return to the Divine Realm in at most a year.
But now, three years had passed, and the Hero was still rebellious.
Misha wanted to cry.
After daybreak, a dejected Ashby pitifully led the Hero back to his domain.
Samuel’s manor was quite a distance from the Demon Domain. If they walked, it would take several days to arrive. But since Ashby was here, returning to his own domain was an instantaneous matter.
Lance demanded he use magic to transport everyone, and Ashby, bound by the contract, had to comply. In the blink of an eye, the group arrived in the desert, just outside his domain.
Disheartened, Ashby lifted the illusion restricting the view. His palace, built within an oasis, appeared before everyone’s eyes. Samuel couldn’t hold back a gasp of admiration, while Lance looked around, watching helplessly as the surrounding little Incubi pounced toward Ashby and Misha.
Misha was startled. He hurriedly signaled Ashby with his eyes, not wanting these Incubi to blow his cover. Ashby spoke immediately, whispering hints to the little Incubi who had already reached him.
But none of this strangeness caught Lance’s attention.
Lance frowned deeply, his mood complicated.
There were over a dozen Incubi in front of him.
Not a single one was wearing clothes properly.
Covered in jingling ornaments and scant fabric that barely covered their private parts, along with all sorts of inexplicable, tasteless decorations and suggestive wriggling—it had long departed the realm of “sexy” and veered straight into “vulgarity that hurts the eyes.”
He couldn’t watch. It was physically hard for him to watch.
Then Lance turned his head and saw a young man with long hair, draped in soft, sheer gauze, walking curiously toward them.
Samuel blurted out in shock, “Your Highness?”
Deventer: “…”
Lance took a deep breath.
This one is slightly better. At least he’s wearing a layer of translucent gauze.
But this is the Crown Prince of the Kingdom. Raised in luxury, cultivated by famous teachers, groomed as the heir to the nation at the cost of countless amounts of the people’s money and blood, sweat, and tears.
And he just abandoned his country and everything else to hide in an Incubus’s domain, caring only for lust and pleasure.
Ashby finally managed to get all the little Incubi on the same page. Misha, struggling to swat away the Incubi’s hands, squeezed his way to Lance.
Seeing Lance frowning tightly, and fearing he had noticed something amiss, Misha cleared his throat and asked, “Lord Lance, what… are you thinking about?”
Lance: “…”
Misha looked around nervously. “There’s nothing strange here, right?”
Lance: “Feudal imperial systems do indeed have such accidents.”
Misha: “Eh?”
Lance: “Strange, irresponsible heirs.”
Misha: “…”
He… didn’t understand.
Lance turned back to look at Ashby, who was surrounded by the crowd of Incubi.
“Ashby,” Lance said. “I have a question.”
He raised his hand, pointing at the magnificent palace that outshone even the human royal palace.
Lance: “Built with magic?”
Constrained by the contract, Ashby couldn’t lie to Lance.
He shook his head and answered honestly, “Hundreds of years ago, we hired craftsmen from the capital to build it.”
Lance: “…”
Ashby: “It’s the result of generations of renovations.”
Lance: “…”
Ashby: “It is no less inferior to the human Royal Palace—”
“So,” Lance interrupted Ashby. “Ashby, where did your money come from?”
Ashby answered without hesitation, “Of course, it’s a little reward we ask for from humans after feeding on them.”
“…Feeding.” Lance automatically latched onto the keywords. “Reward.”
Ashby: “…”
Misha: “…”
Ashby covered his mouth.
It’s over.
He seemed to have said something he shouldn’t have.
Misha closed his eyes in pain.
I’m sorry, Ashby.
I probably can’t save you today.
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