“What’s going on?”
At her somewhat annoyed question, I glanced once toward Granviphra.
“They didn’t explain anything to you?”
—I didn’t know what was going on myself.
I lightly explained the situation to them, not forgetting to mention that the cave had collapsed just a little while ago.
But her expression was unusual.
“Granviphra? That thing?”
She seemed to know about him.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Of course. The King of Vipers. The master of the oldest forest. The banished beast.”
—I wasn’t banished. The gods ordered me to guard that forest.
Granviphra spoke more firmly than before, sharpening his tone.
“You look rather pathetic. I heard Thanatos dealt with you, but to think the eternal guardian of the forest ended up like this.”
—I could say the same about you. According to what I heard, you were once a commander of the Demon King’s army. Now you’re just a captive.
“Ah, then be grateful. If I was’nt, I’d have burned you to ashes already.”
It had been a while since I’d seen something like this.
She had been locked up here all this time, so seeing her clash with someone like this was a first since that great war.
Of course, it had also been a while since anyone dared stand up to her like that.
I had explained to Eril that Ropena was being held here, but she still flinched a little every time Ropena spoke.
Part of it was from the previous battle, but mostly it was the instinctive fear and awe from one phoenix toward another who wielded a stronger flame.
“Alright, alright, let’s both calm down. There’s no need to be rude to each other.”
“When was I ever?”
—I was merely stating the facts.
This kind of invisible spark of tension… it had been a while.
Ever since I started living with Lowell and Aegina after that great war, any arguments we had were mostly about who’d make breakfast (and even that was because both wanted to do it), or awkward lovers’ quarrels that were hard to watch.
It had been a while since I’d seen such clear hostility.
“Anyway, what are those monsters?”
Such a wide-scale consciousness-sharing is an extremely rare and powerful ability.
Some insect-type monsters like Battle Ants or Wasps, or specific types like Red Eyes, sometimes display hive-mind behavior, but having it occur simultaneously among such a variety of monsters—I’d never heard of that.
If such a thing is possible, it could only be orchestrated by a being of much higher order.
And considering their tactical coordination—drawing attention and collapsing a cave—it was clear.
—There are many who do not wish for my resurrection. Especially the older and more powerful ones.
“Among them, is there one with that kind of power?”
—Yes. It doesn’t have a name of its own, but it’s often referred to as Satal or Asta Frte.
“What does that mean?”
I glanced at Ropena, just in case, but she looked like she didn’t know either.
—In an ancient common language once used in the forest, it means one who is hidden everywhere, or one who is always drifting.
It was originally one of the administrators who served under my command.
“Sounds like you didn’t manage your subordinates very well.”
At that single sentence, another spark almost flew, but Granviphra pretended not to hear it.
“Miss Ropena. There’s no need to say it like that.”
“What? What did I say?”
I was well aware of the discord between the gods and demons, and their followers, and had even benefited from it during the last great war.
But now, in this situation, it was just awkward.
“…Anyway, it’s not like you can go back right now, so stay here until you hatch. After that, I’ll send you back.”
It wasn’t what I originally intended, but this was probably the safest option.
Here, there wouldn’t be any real threats.
—That’s not possible.
His firm statement left no room for doubt or hesitation.
“If it’s because you’re uncomfortable here—!”
—No. That’s not it. I mean it literally—it’s impossible.
Seeing my confused look, he continued.
—I belong to the Forest of Evil. I can only be reborn and grow within the Forest. The longer I stay here, the more delayed my hatching becomes.
“…Nothing ever seems easy these days.”
“Then just take him back where he came from. It’s not like this is our problem.”
—Such warmth in your words. I feel like I might burn to death.
“Then go ahead and burn. If you were a guardian weak enough to lose to a firebird, you wouldn’t have been able to stop that earlier attack anyway. Don’t be a bother—just wait quietly for your next chance.”
But still, it felt like she was being more hostile than necessary.
Was it just my imagination?
—I don’t mean to blame her, but it was because of our battle that my location was discovered. And if I do wait for another chance, the ones who’ll be in trouble won’t be me.
His ominous words caught my attention.
“What do you mean?”
—I don’t manage just the forest. I also maintain its balance. During the last great war, the forest’s lifeforms suffered great damage at the hands of the Demon King’s army. Thanks to that, things remained relatively peaceful for a few years—but now things are different. They’ve mostly recovered and are now gathering strength under powerful administrators. Small-scale territorial disputes have already gone beyond their limits.
“So? Monsters going to war or whatever—what’s that got to do with us?”
—My administrators are ancient survivors. After my death, they chose to serve the Demon King, even knowing Nyx would destroy them in the end—just to survive. They understand that fighting each other is foolish. So then, what will they choose instead?
“Territorial expansion, of course.”
It’s a simple and common story.
Divert internal conflict outward and expand territory.
If you’ve got the power, it’s the easiest and most efficient method.
“Are you saying they’ll attack nearby cities?”
—They won’t attack cities right away, but as they expand, that will inevitably happen.
There aren’t many cities directly bordering the Forest of Evil, but it’s vast and irregular.
Because of that, several nations use its edges as their borders.
We don’t know exactly how they’ll expand, but since the last war, many smaller countries lack the national strength to fend off large-scale monster invasions.
If that happens, not only will civilians suffer, but there’s a high chance those nations will request aid from others—or even fall under the influence of a major power—adding instability to the global political scene.
“…Should I bring Lowell here?”
Seeing how this was escalating unnecessarily, maybe it was time to seriously consider it.
“How many administrators are there? Can you talk to them?”
—There are three in total. Two of them died fighting alongside me in the last war. Communication is possible, but they won’t listen unless some power is shown first.
Three.
Fewer than I expected, which was good, but the fact that just three of them could control this massive forest meant they were immensely powerful.
“If you hatch, can you resolve the situation right away?”
—Of course. Though my physical form will be relatively weak, I’ll regain my ability to create avatars and use my powers without limitation. Subduing or eliminating the administrators will be easy.
Well, if they’re going this far to stop his hatching, I had no reason to doubt that.
“…”
Without meaning to, I glanced at Ropena.
Maybe it was habit—ever since the old days, I always looked to Lowell before making a decision.
Or maybe I felt like she’d have something to say about my choice.
But really, there was no need to act immediately.
It wasn’t like the other side was planning to attack the cities right this second.
Just subtly leaking that Granviphra was still alive would keep them busy searching for a few days.
In the meantime, we could bring Baglos here.
Or even bring Lowell, Aegina, or Lord Medluf.
Of course, we’d have to prepare a convincing mix of truth and lies to explain the situation, but still—
It was doable.
Or, there was another way — to negotiate with the three administrators and have them agree to imprison
Granviphra in this other dimension.
Even setting aside the moral implications, this was a choice that would grow increasingly dangerous and unstable over time.
“Very well. Then, for the next two days, I shall devote all my strength to protecting you.”
— Thank you.
“However, I think a mere promise not to harm us is a bit insufficient. I require additional compensation.”
— What kind of compensation…?
“Help me form a master-servant contract with those administrators.”
— You mean… you want to become their master?
As I mentioned before, it’s nearly impossible to engrave a seal of submission into the soul of beings with a certain level of intelligence and rationality, like I did with the Black Wyvern.
Their resistance, whether conscious or not, is overwhelmingly strong.
Even if one were to forcibly engrave the seal, it would likely break down due to that resistance.
But even more impossible is the master-servant contract.
It requires a complex and dangerous ritual, a powerful soul to serve as the notary, and a medium to uphold the contract as its symbol.
And most importantly, the other party’s consent is essential.
Even if all those conditions were met, would beings of such immense power ever willingly become someone’s servant?
However, if Granviphra were to command them to agree, and if he himself were to act as the notary for the contrac
Then perhaps, it wouldn’t be entirely impossible.
— Fine. I wanted to punish the traitors myself, but I suppose this is a fitting sentence for them in its own way.
“Then let’s get some rest for now.”
It was unfortunate the hatching would be delayed, but at night, the forest was far more favorable on their side.
“We’re sleeping with those things?”
— Seems like we have to.
Of course, no one here, myself included, would be sleeping peacefully.
***
Ancient trees, hundreds of years old, were uprooted and stacked in layers.
Atop the fallen trunks lay a massive black shadow, lounging like a lazy king.
The forest was silent, and the monsters hiding between the trees — lucky enough to have escaped tragedy — flattened themselves against the ground, holding their breath.
When the clouds covering the moon parted slightly, the moonlight fell and cast away the shadow, revealing the form of the lazy king.
Its entire body was covered in what looked like tough scales, with sharp spikes jutting out here and there.
It was hard to compare the creature to any known animal, but if one had to, its overall shape vaguely resembled a massive brown frog.
It lay sprawled like a human reclining on the trees, scanning the surroundings with a displeased gaze.
Wherever its eyes landed, monsters trembled in fear and pressed even closer to the earth.
— That stupid Satal. If he figured it out, he should’ve reported it right away!
A long tongue suddenly shot out, sweeping across the ground.
The monsters crouched in that direction were sucked into its mouth and disappeared into its belly.
His name was Elde Toquas — or Lesuwi Kato.
Known as the Gluttonous One or the Tree-Feller, he was one of the three administrators Granviphra had mentioned.
— With only a few days left before the hatching… and you let it slip by! What are you all doing?! You know what’ll happen when Granviphra returns!
At his rage, the monsters scattered in all directions.
Despite having ordered the monsters to keep him fed by staying nearby, Elde Toquas was too agitated to remember that himself.
— Instead of yelling, why don’t you go look for it, Toquas?
The creature that emerged from the shadows was so small compared to Elde Toquas that calling it tiny would be an understatement.
Yet its presence and attitude completely overwhelmed him.
— And what about you, Wabutu Hirde? The place where Granviphra appeared is the exact opposite of your domain.
Known as “The One Who Rides the Wind,” he resembled a leopard with red blotches.
Unlike a normal leopard, however, he had a sharp spike at the tip of his tail and red gem-like minerals embedded in his back.
—Just thought we should have a more realistic discussion.
— Realistic discussion?
Wabutu Hirde casually approached Elde Toquas and climbed onto his half-reclined belly, looking him straight in the eye.
— Thanks to that unexpected phoenix, we had a sliver of hope.
—But let’s be honest this was never realistically possible to begin with.
—Finding and destroying Granviphra’s egg in this vast forest before it hatched? This was our first and only real opportunity. Now that it’s passed, Granviphra’s resurrection is basically inevitable.
— So what? Are you here to tell me to give up and wait quietly? Don’t forget, we cooperated with the Demon King’s army. You think Granviphra will forgive us?
— Of course not.
— But unlike that pitiful Satal, you and I still have one other option.
— What…?
— Satal’s in no shape to move, but you and I are not like him.
At that moment, Elde Toquas rose to his full, massive height.
— You… You’re suggesting we run from this forest?