Chapter 15:


The Demon Saint is Missing, so I Ran to Another World Vol. 13

***Castle Darkmoor***

The Lord would always begin his day with a breakfast in his bed, though lately he was together with his younger sister—he would never let her far from him, not even when going to the lavatory. Along with his food, delivered by the palace’s maids, was the newspaper for the day, for he never wanted to miss on the interesting events around Cherflammen. And that moment was no different.

The new demon lord sat on his bed, careful not to wake his sister sleeping at his side. He never touched his food; instead, he immediately grabbed the newspaper. For the past few days, he’d been receiving unofficial reports of a new administration and system being implemented in the Conclave, as well as rumors of a failed negotiation between one of the head scholars and the leading vassal of the Biorno clan. And then, just a couple of days ago, some Usarved merchants from the Saint’s Tower arrived with stories about a ‘great battle’ within the city where they came from.

The Lord Haya was puzzled. The newspapers’ headlines in Darkmoor never mentioned such events, focusing more on his takeover and other topics he found superficial. So, he gathered the editors of the newspapers in his city, and ordered them to the Saint’s Tower in haste, to pick up ‘real news’. It was an impossible task, for he had only given them a two-day allowance, whereas the travel to the Biorno city took five days of non-stop horse ride.

Nevertheless, his efforts eventually bore fruit. From ‘useless’ topics, his newspapers changed their headlines.

“The Great Battle of the Saint’s Tower, huh?” the Lord Haya read the headline aloud as he skimmed through the lengthy article detailing the incident, that is, according to the Usarved merchants that came from that city. According to the report, the fighting began when the goblin legionnaires tried to dismantle the Biorno defenses surrounding the school. Then, as the battle raged, a sandstorm, followed by a thunderstorm, whirlwinds and hailstorm complicated the situation and added to the casualties for both sides.

In the end, the Biorno forces prevailed, and ejected the allied force of goblins and orcs from the Conclave.

The Lord Haya couldn’t help himself but be amused. Aside from the fact that the Biornos, goblins and orcs were spending their strengths to kill each other (making his planned attack on them easier), the weird account of the fighting was funny. For one, the region of the Saint’s Tower may be a breeding ground for severe sandstorms, but never of hailstorms. The whirlwinds and thunderstorms in that area were hard to believe as well, for the climate there was always hot and dry. Only the demon saint’s magic was the reason for keeping the temperature in that area bearable, particularly in and around the city limits.

Those Usarved refugees must’ve lost their minds trying to escape the battle, he mused.

Realizing that he was wasting his time reading a ‘garbage’ article, the Lord Haya searched the broadsheet for another interesting piece of news.

“The Tambara Clan’s First Victory…” the demon lord then read the article describing the ambush of the pursuing Biorno force by a motley army of goblins, orcs and Tambara warriors, which happened a few leagues away from the lycanthropes’ main city, Fangborough. The Lord Haya’s interest was definitely piqued, for he saw in the article a familiar name: the Lord Kuro of Arles, who—according to the newspaper—was the legendary human hero of Chersea and Cherwind. The report concluded that the ‘Commoner General’ led the outgunned and outnumbered allied army to victory, and even captured an entire regiment of incubi soldiers, complete with their rations and equipment.

The Lord Haya’s eyes then fell on the sleeping form of his sister. As far as he remembered, the Lord Kuro of Arles was the human Noir brought here in Cherflammen. That human was his enemy; his rival in love…the one who took his sister’s heart.


He watched Noir as she slowly gained consciousness, gently caressing her cheeks. Burning her beautiful form in his memories. Savoring the rich sensation of her bosom. And when she fully opened her eyes…

“How is your sleep, my dearest Noir?”

“Never been worse,” was her curt reply, averting her eyes from him.

But the Lord Haya ignored her gesture and handed her the newspaper instead, to which, Noir answered her brother with an inquisitive and confused stare. He only chuckled and said, “Read that article. It might interest you.”

Noir then did as she was told. As the exploits of the Lord Greg—her teacher—unfolded before her very eyes, a small sliver of hope appeared in her chest. The Lord Greg was fighting, and he was winning! Noir’s happiness couldn’t be contained by the despair of her situation, and she couldn’t stop her lips from forming a smile.

“…” The Lord Haya observed her all the time, and when he saw that beautiful expression on his sister’s face, jealousy and hate for his rival burned within him. Noir, though she had always been his, would never show that lovely smile whenever they were together.

“!!!” The Usarved princess’ moment of bliss was interrupted when the Lord Haya yanked the newspaper from Noir’s hands, and pushed her down, grabbing her by the neck.

“My dearest Noir, you’re being unfaithful!” he told her in a voice that mixed anger and sadness. Tears were welling up in his eyes, and his hold on her neck tightened, choking her. “All this time, I’m always with you. I always think of you. Yes, you do not show me that lovely smile of yours, instead choosing that despicable human over me! Me, your own brother!”

“G-Give it up, H-Haya!” she shot back, struggling to remove his grip on her and gasping to get her air. “Take everything…or b-break me, yet…you will never…take my h-heart!”

The Lord Haya’s sadness immediately dissipated when he heard that, and his hands let go of her neck, “So, you’re still up for a challenge, huh? Guards!”

At once, three members of his elf guards showed up in the room. Noir could only look in horror, as she knew well what their presence inside the Lord Haya’s private chamber meant.

“We’ll see for how long will you resist me, my dearest Noir,” the demon lord triumphantly grinned. “Howl! Moan! Beg to me, my sister! Call for your human toy! Let’s see how will he save you from my power! From my very hands!”


***The servants’ quarters of Castle Darkmoor…***

It was not only the Lord Haya who were aware of the developments in the cities of the Saint’s Tower and Fangborough. When the newspaper meant for the new demon lord came, the maid, Leiver, immediately read and learned of the Lord Greg’s location. She quickly passed it on to the butler, George Venelli, who decided now was their chance to execute their plan to escape.

“May the saint bless you, girls,” were the parting words of the butler for Angelli and Leiver as he handed to them his amulets.

Heh, I think we’ll need more than a blessing, George,” Angelli countered. “Dammit, we need a miracle for this to succeed!”

George, however, replied to her, “The heavens have already given us one. I’m afraid two’s already a handicap.”

“What miracle? The Commoner General’s arrival in Fangborough?” she was sarcastic. “Great! Now we can send a welcome party to him!”

“At least you won’t have to travel too far to ask for help,” the butler pointed out.

“But what can the Lord Greg do about our situation?” it was Leiver. “The newspapers say his forces are retreating! It means, they also need help!”

“Don’t worry about that, worry on how you’d reach him first!” George was getting annoyed. “As of now, the outbreak of the war made us lose the whereabouts of the Lady Shevaun, so asking her for help is out of the question. Our hopes now lay on our other ally, the Lord Greg Santos. If we can tell our situation to him, I’m sure he’ll do something to tell our chamberlain, and we’ll be saved.”

“Or better yet, he can mount a mission to rescue our princess!”

“Don’t raise your hopes, Angelli.” George rebuked her. “While we like it for the Lord Greg to save Her Highness as soon as possible, he is not an emotional person. I’m sure he’ll make a plan first, before diving into the fray. After all, I believe this is also the right path to take, for the Lord Haya is no easy enemy.”

A moment of deafening silence. The servants of the House Usarved could feel their salvation, yet it was still too far to reach. The frustration was just too strong! Nevertheless, after enough pondering, Angelli took a deep breath, fixed her maid’s uniform, and said, “Alright then! I guess, who dares wins! And even if we don’t win, at least, we tried something to save our beloved princess! Come on, Leiver! Her Highness is counting on us!”

“Yes!” the maid, Leiver, who was normally timid, was equally determined, having removed any doubts she had in her heart. Going against the Lord Haya required an iron resolve, but she steeled hers. The future of House Usarved, and in some aspects, of entire Cherflammen were in their hands.

Obviously, they cannot fail in this task.

George opened the door of their quarters, peering into the hallways, and determining the guards’ positions. Then, he turned to his maids, reminding them, “Once you stepped into the corridors, the mind-control spell of the Lord Haya can afflict you before you even know it; be careful not to lose your talismans! Saint’s speed be with you!”

Angelli and Leiver nodded, and bravely stepped out of their quarters to perform their most important duty to the Usarved princess ever since they got hired…


Then, moments later, a powerful explosion rocked the Castle Darkmoor’s palace, breaking some expensive vases, plates, cups and windows, as well as overturning some book shelves and cabinets. The elf guards, who were initially surprised and thought they were under attack, rushed to find the origin of the detonation. They eventually traced it to the servants’ quarters. As most of the maids were out doing their services to their master, no one was hurt…except for the butler, George Venelli. His mangled body was found buried in the ruins of the quarters, wearing a pristine smile on his face, a matchlock pistol in his hand, a fatal wound to his head, and a small painting of a young Princess Noir, and her mother, the Lady Herriane, held close to his heart.


***The Saint’s Tower***

When she teleported near the city of the Biorno clan, Seirna saw the widespread destruction and death caused by the earlier battle. She was frozen; for all the hard work she was doing to prevent the return of the Seductress, these demons just fight and kill as they please.


With the recent attack of the Seductress on Lady Madelaine’s mind, the Saint of the Flame decided to check on the otherworlder. However, as she surveyed the aftermath of the Battle for the Saint’s Tower, she couldn’t help but get mad on the demons for exacerbating the Human Saint’s condition with their petty wars. Of course, she didn’t go to confront the leaders of the Biorno clan, for if she did, the resulting battle would only add to their woes, which she sought to avoid. Instead, she went for Alexa’s tower, where she planned to admonish the Saint of Darkness for ‘doing nothing’.

However, the moment she entered the actual Saint’s Tower, Seirna was greeted by a messed-up, half-destroyed building, and inter-dimensional floors that were going haywire. Alexa’s ‘home’ was in ruins, and the demon saint was nowhere to be found.


The Saint of the Flame then brought out her rapier, for she got suspicious of what’s happening. Alexa Cassandra David, or her current identity as Natasha Bellingsen, seldomly permitted anyone to enter her place. If one was aiming to ‘gatecrash’, it’s either she’s out in the heavens, detained; or, that person was equally, or more, powerful as the Saint of Darkness.

And for her tower to be thrashed like this…

Seirna carefully moved across the ruins, which was not obvious from outside. The inter-dimensional walls and floors would create a hole occasionally, where one could be sucked up and end in nowhere. Good thing her magic could still work in this mess, and she would cast a flight spell whenever she needed to reach another platform or level.

When she finally got to the fifth and last floor, the Saint of the Flame saw the person she was searching for. Buried within the rubble, Alexa suffered broken bones and severe slash and stab wounds all over her body. The presence of her sword—twisted and bent beyond repair—nearby showed to Seirna that she put up a fierce fight. And she could also trace a faint hint of healing magic, in which the Saint of Darkness used a magic circle to cast. It may not be as potent as the Human Saint’s god-power, but it kept her alive long enough for help to arrive.

“Cass!” the Saint of the Flame tried waking her colleague. “Cass, what happened here? Who attacked you?”

Alexa weakly opened her eyes on the third shake, and she tried speaking, but no voice came out of her. So, Seirna tried reading her mind, but the Saint of Darkness lost consciousness before she saw the answers to her question.


The Saint of the Flame had to act fast. If Alexa—in the body of the demon, Natasha Bellingsen—died, their hope of ever defeating the Seductress would be lost. After casting a flight spell on her colleague’s body, Seirna uttered the teleport spell, and off they crossed into Chersea’s Holy Palatial Gardens.



The messengers we sent to Darkmoor arrived shortly after breakfast. I was hopeful of a good news coming from the Princess Noir; however, what greeted me was a group of bloodied and exhausted soldiers, and a pair of maids with them. As the clan elders gathered around them to help, stories flowed in.

“They rained bullets on us! We got three killed!”

“Those elves! They’re killing our people!”

“I don’t want to go back to Darkmoor! I’d rather die!”

I don’t like what I’m hearing.

“Lord Naru, dire news!” a lycanthrope sentry told the Tambara lord. “One of our patrols saw these people sent to Darkmoor running back to our city, with a small cavalry of elves after them.”

“Elves?” the Lord Naru exclaimed.

Another clan elder asked, “Are you sure of what you saw?”

The Tambara sentry insisted on his story, and it was also supported by the people we sent.

“What are those long-ears doing here?”

There was a great consternation among the military officers and clan elders present, since another faction appeared in the conflict—the elves. Many of them were shocked and kept on asking questions about their presence. Honestly, I didn’t have an idea of the complications this new development would imply, my focus was on healing the injured.

I started with one of the maids. She was quiet, and I noticed that one of her arms was missing. Her torn uniform, and the dried blood on it showed that her limb was freshly-severed from her; such injury would kill a human on the spot—she’s fortunate to be an Usarved for that wound to heal that fast. In any case, the god-power of the human saint was enough to make the lost limb grow back again, and when I saw that the maid was already fine, I asked one of the soldiers we sent out on what happened to her…

“We saw those long-ears pursuing them, and when they caught up, they slashed her with their swords, as if playing on them!” an orc soldier told me. “We tried to help, but those accursed elves…they also got powerful crack horns that shoot fast and far!”

“Does their crack horns look like this?” I showed to him my M1911 pistol.

The orc, and also the maid, shook their heads. The soldier added, “It was longer than that, milord, and it was black in color. The elves held it like this…” He showed to me how the elves carried their guns, and much to my horror, it was the way like the M16, M14 or the AK-47 was held. Acting on my suspicions, I drew a rough sketch of the guns I had in my head, but the orc said ‘no’ to all of my samples.

A gun that is carried like an assault rifle, but not those I thought about. Can it possibly be a weapon from another world, aside from mine?

“Milord!” one of the maids suddenly ran to me, fell to her knees and begged, “Thank the saints, I finally found you Lord Greg! Please help us! We’re from Castle Darkmoor, and we just escaped from that place!”

Wait, this servant is awfully familiar to me! If I remember, she’s that one ‘aggressive’ maid who kept on playing jokes on me when I first took a bath in the Usarved palace. Err…what is her name again?

“I’m Angelli!” she cried out when she noticed that I couldn’t remember her name. “I’m one of Her Highness’ faithful servants! And with me is Leiver! She’s the one you healed, milord!

“It’s fine, Angelli, you guys are safe now,” I tried to calm her down, for she was hysterical. I also gave her a mug of water.

“Milord…” Angelli never let go of my clothes; the mixed expression of fear and sadness was on her face, and she was crying non-stop. However, after a few words of assurances, mugs of water and pats on the back, she’s much calmer now.

“It’s okay, we won’t let anyone harm you. Tell me what happened.”

“The Lord Haya…that accursed spoiled brat has returned to Darkmoor and…de-deposed Her Highness!” the maid revealed, which was heard by everyone, including the Tambara clan elders. I could hear the muffled gasps from others who understood what that meant.

“Those elves…they…they played with us!” Angelli continued to narrate; the bitterness in her voice was clear. “They made us run in circles! If we got tired of running, they would run their swords against our flesh, or scare us by shooting near our feet! And Leiver…she lost her arm that way!”

She cried out once again. My eyes glanced on the maid I healed earlier.

“If those goblins, orcs and Usarveds…if they only arrived a little late, we’d be dead! And the Princess…my dear saint, the Princess…she…” the maid couldn’t stop her emotions from flowing out, and we could only console her.

“Take a deep breath in,” I encouraged her as I asked a Tambara to massage Angelli’s back. Heh, good thing I did my first-aid training with the Red Cross when I was a teacher; I could really put those skills to good use here. “That’s right! Now slowly breathe out. You’ll be okay.”

When Angelli stopped her panicked cries, she told us, “Milord, please…help our princess.”

“What happened to Princess Noir?” I asked her again, as calm as possible. However, deep inside, I was dreading for the worst. Those kinds of pleas usually entailed a worst situation. My heart was beating fast, and I could feel cold sweat forming on my forehead.

“The Lord Haya captured her,” Angelli revealed. “And she was being used for pleasure by her brother and his elf guards against her will!”


I don’t know what happened next. It’s as if I blacked out for a good amount of time after I learned of Princess Noir’s fate. When my senses returned, I was still standing in the middle of the crowd that returned from their failed mission to Darkmoor. Everything felt like a dream, and there was a heavy, impulsive sensation all over my body. However, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder…

It was the Lord Gracchio.

“Lord Greg,” it was the first time I heard him refer to me that way in a long while. “Are you okay? You’re spacing out!”

I shook my head. Anger, hatred and the desire to kill appeared simultaneously in my chest, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I don’t know how I looked like while experiencing that, but the people around me quickly moved away.

Save for the demon head scholar.

“She’s…the Princess Noir is my student, Lord Gracchio!” there was pain shooting up from my chest as I uttered those words. “What did those bastards do to her?”

The Lord Gracchio never answered my question. He just looked at me with sympathy in his eyes.

“Why did she have to suffer?”

“Yes…you’re right,” he heaved a sigh. “In every damned conflict, our students always suffer. They are always required to sacrifice their lives, their youth, for their clan; fighting for someone’s right to the throne, or for some stupid dispute that went out of control. I had enough of listening to stories of how a scholar died, or was tortured after capture.”

I could only stare at the demon head scholar. His eyes had a poignant expression on it, a proof that he went through a lot as a teacher…just like me. People around me always say that the children I deal with were not my relatives, and so there should be a limit on how I should help them. But fuck it, how could I stand on the sidelines, when those students were being abused, traumatized and exploited? Far from being my relatives, they were people, too! Each of them had dreams and aspirations…and it’s my duty to make it possible for them!

And Noir…she changed herself in order to change this land! She doesn’t deserve her fate!

“She does,” the Lord Gracchio nodded. “And so our other students as well. Those who graduated, those whose studies are cut because of the conflict, and those who are about to enroll in the Conclave. That’s why I wanted to change Cherflammen. That’s why I believed our education needs reforms. This rotten society has to progress…”

I just listened to the demon head scholar. Yes, he was right. Princess Noir is one of the victims of this antiquated system. And for the demons to have a better future ahead, reforms were necessary. However, reforms were not easy. It was slow to take root, you’d find a lot of enemies, and there would surely be a conflict, for not everyone would agree to your visions.

I can’t falter here. I may have failed to protect my student, but I can still do something for her.

“Lord Greg, it’s okay,” I heard the Lord Gracchio speak. “Mourn for your student, but never forget what she went through. Use it to fuel your desires in changing this land. This is why I sided with you. When I saw your sincerity and dedication to our students, as well as your ideas to truly help them, I said to myself: I like the Conclave to be like that. The Lady Cassandra David is right in her praises about you! And, even if I lost my clan because of this decision, I stand for what I’ve done. At least, I know I’m fighting for what is right.”

I never said anything to that. My heart was heavy, and I wanted to lash out, to express my anger. Nevertheless, I had to keep myself from breaking down. I’m the leader of this group, and if I showed weakness, our already low morale could plummet further down rock bottom.


“!!!” someone took my hand, only to find out that it was Nari. I bet that as a Beastman/lycanthrope, she could feel the anger and hatred seeping from me. I don’t how she did that, but for some reason, my chest became lighter. Her presence was calming me…

“It’s okay, Sir,” Nari told me.

“You’ve been carrying a lot lately, Lord Greg,” the Lord Gracchio added. “Whatever your decision is, your allies will stand by your side.”

My eyes wandered. The orcs, goblins, Usarveds and Tambaras with us agreed to the demon head scholar’s words, even the clan elders. It was an encouraging sight, having their reassuring smiles beaming on you. Honestly, it was stressful for me these past few days, but knowing that my back was supported by many of those who believed in what I stood for…it felt like I could do something about this mess.

“I want to save Princess Noir right now,” I admitted.

“I understand. We’ll follow you; I’ll make the necessary preparations right away,” the demon head scholar turned to leave, but…

“However,” I steeled my resolve as I made my decision. “I can’t sacrifice your lives for a risky move. We’re hopelessly unprepared, uncoordinated, and outnumbered. The enemy has better weapons, and a fortress to defend. If I wish to rescue Her Highness, then we have to make haste to Goblinhom. I’ll save all I can save!”