Chapter 28 No Words that won’t Sound like Lies

As Rein raised his sword once more, the faint sound of cracking echoed through the room.

The Demon Lord’s helm split down one side with a jagged line, and a broken piece clattered to the floor. Beneath it—half of a face. Not the monstrous visage Rein expected. No snarling beast, no malformed horror.

Just a woman’s face.

Blue skin, marked faintly with lines of arcane corruption. Eyes—red and black, glowing faintly, yet unmistakably human in their sadness. She met Rein’s gaze, and for a heartbeat, he froze.

Just a heartbeat.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice low, carrying a sorrowful weight that filled the throne room more heavily than any war cry.

“What’s the matter, young Hero? Did my demon face frighten you?”

She slowly raised her arm. With a single flex, the armor along her forearm groaned, splintered—and then shattered entirely, falling to the floor in twisted, metal shards.

She raised her bare hand, brushing her fingers gently along her cheek, almost absentmindedly.

“You know. I wasn’t always like this. Not long ago, I was human. Just like you. Just a woman trying to do what was right. But the moment I was cast into these lands—these poisoned, forgotten lands—the pollution of magi stone began to change me. Corrupt me.”

Rein’s breath hitched. But then the rage surged back, burying the flicker of hesitation.

“Lies! I don’t want to hear your cursed story! I came here to avenge Aura—the Hero before me! The one you killed! That's all I want! Face me, just you and me!”

He took a step forward, sword burning with mana in his grip.

“It is time to pay for all the evil you have done, monster!”

The Demon Lord stilled. Her gaze lingered on the man before her, watching the fury twist his voice into something hollow. His face hidden beneath his helmet.

“Aura…” she echoed, almost to herself. Then, looking directly at him asked, “And who might you be to her?”

She tilted her head, a soft bitterness in her voice.

“She never had many who would’ve dared come this far. To avenge her, of all things.”

Rein’s grip on his sword trembled, not from fear—but from the flood of emotions crashing inside him.

“Don’t you dare speak her name like you knew her! You don’t get to say that name, vile monster! She was everything to me! She taught me how to never give up! She smiled when I failed and stood beside me when I tried again. I trained every single day just to catch up to her—just to be worthy of her notice!”

He raised his blade higher, magic pulsing violently from the edge.

 “And then you took her. You took her, and everything that mattered. I spent years preparing for this day. Dreaming of the moment I would stand here. Of the moment I would cut you down for what you did.”

The words trembled now. So did his arms. 

“She believed in justice. In protecting the weak. In fighting for the people. And you… you mock everything she stood for!”

Demon Lord had faced armies, endured betrayal, survived poison and exile. But nothing had struck her like hearing those words in his voice. That voice.

Even through the years, the anger, the helmet covering his face—she knew it.

Her fingers, still resting against her blue skin, trembled.

“Rein…” she whispered.

Rein’s blade was still raised, glowing with the weight of everything he believed he had lost.

“Rein…” She repeated. Her voice was so soft, it was almost lost in the cavernous throne room. But it reached him. Like a memory whispering through time.

His grip faltered for a breath. Just a breath.

The Demon Lord took a step forward, pieces of her armor falling away as if the land itself no longer wished to hold the lie together.

“I didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve grown so much. Taller… stronger… colder.” 

Her smile was faint, bitter, and aching.

“But your voice… I remember now, how could I forget. The way you used to sneak extra practice when you thought I wasn’t watching. The way you’d challenge me again and again, even with bruises still fresh.”

She reached up, removed the rest of her helm, letting it fall to the ground with a hollow clang. Her dark blue hair spilled down, framing a face that was no longer human.

“I waited, you know. That night before I left for the Demon Plains. I thought maybe you’d come to say goodbye. Maybe…” She paused, her voice cracking, “maybe even say what we were both too scared to.”

Rein’s arms trembled. His sword lowered an inch. She stepped closer, tears shining in those red-black eyes.

“I didn’t die, Rein. I was abandoned. Betrayed. Left to rot in the same cursed land they send all the ‘unwanted.’ And the worst part wasn’t the exile… It was never getting to say goodbye to you. I never stopped thinking about you, Rein. Even after they turned on me. Even after this place changed me. The only thing that stayed the same…”

 She pressed her palm gently to her ample chest. 

“Was how I felt about you.”

“Rein! Don’t listen to her! This is exactly what demons do. They lie. They twist truth and memory to break your resolve. It’s nothing but a performance—she wants to get into your head, make you hesitate. Trick you.”

Her eyes flicked to Liora, narrowing—not with rage, but with quiet, exhausted disappointment.

“All this time. You knew, Liora?” she said quietly.

Liora ignored her, speaking only to Rein.

“She’s not your mentor. She’s not her. Whatever this thing is—it isn’t Aura. You saw her face—twisted, corrupted. That’s not a human! It's a demon!”

Rein turned toward Liora, the veins in his neck tight, his shoulders shaking.

“Shut up! I know what she is! A liar. A demon. A monster in a woman’s skin!”

His eyes burned behind his helmet with immense mana, fixed on Aura, voice splintering with raw pain.

“I don’t believe a single word from your mouth! You think you can speak about her?”

He pointed his blade straight at her ample chest, breath heavy.

“She’s dead. Aura is dead. And you’re just the thing that killed her!”

Demon Lord stood still, her hand slowly falling away from her chest. No armor, no blade drawn. Just her, breathing under the weight of it all. The faint shimmer of hope in her eyes began to fade. She lowered her gaze, her voice soft, like a memory slipping through cracked glass. She looked… tired.

“…I see. There’s nothing more I can say to convince you. No proof strong enough. No words that won’t sound like lies.”