I stepped away from the sacks of meat that could loosely be described as “elves, whipped into shape”, turned to the door and opened it, only to come face-to-face with Davna.

Making sure to use my body to block her view, I swiftly stepped through the door and shut it behind me.

“Master, what were those sounds?” she asked, trying to peek around me at a closed door.

“Nothing,” I lied. “More importantly. I see you lot have been waiting for me.”

Indeed, there stood not just Davna, but also the other three Demon Generals I had taken with me to Ethalia.

“Yea,” Charlotte said, “on that topic… I am afraid there is a probl’m, M’lord.”

“Elaborate.”

“The drak’nid and the elf who were abs’nt… We have not been able t’ find them, M’lord.” She fidgeted with her hands and turned her gaze to the floor, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet.

An unusual behaviour. Rather than an evil, blood-drinking Vampire Princess or the manners-touting pure-hearted young lady, she currently seemed more like…

Yes, indeed, like the little girl she looked like.

As she said, the drakonid and the elf were not present. Neither were the pair I had charged with finding the absentees.

“Can’t find!” Navillus said, shaking her head left and right. The direct result was of course a dirty wall.

“Charlotte,” I said after wiping the sludge off my face. “There is no need for you to accept blame for the failings of one who is not your subordinate. In the first place, I have never once told any of you to take responsibility for your subordinates, let alone strangers.” Lightly, I placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair for a few moments.

“But ev’n so…”

“No. With Davna and Lilith, you take on enough responsibility as is. You should… No. I order you to take a break every once in a while.”

Davna tilted her head, a little befuddled.

“That’s right,” Tempest said, nodding with her usual tired smile. “It’s okay to be a little less responsible sometimes.”

Her choice of words was… questionable, but I decided to let it slide.

“W-Well,” Charlotte said, bringing her eyes up to look at me, “if ye say so, M’lord, Tempest…”

I chuckled. “What, Charlotte? Has your hearing gone bad? There is no ‘if’. Orders are orders.”

My laughter appeared to be infectious. “My ears doth be fine, but thank thee for thy conc’rn,” Charlotte said, smirking wryly.

And then she continued in a whisper even I could barely hear, “ ‘T has b’come quite clear why Her D’vinity nev’r end’vours t’ sep’rate her head from thy hand, M’lord.”

I decided to ignore her whisper, shook my head and retracted my hand, folding it behind my back. “Now then,” I said, “we shall return to the drakonids to have them reveal Lady Salamander’s location.”

I looked over what had, at one point, been a group of healthy drakonids, but was now a collection of barely-alive sacks of meat in an elvish hospital ward. Tending to them were several young girls with bark-like skins and slow expressions—Dryads.

I ignored the affectionate smiles they gave me once they saw the mark on my cheek, cleared my throat, and spoke. “I have come to collect the reward for my victory.”

“You’ve come to hear Lady Salamander’s location, yes?” a drakonid said in response to my statement. She appeared to be missing her left arm from the elbow down.

“Indeed,” I said, a little surprised she was so calm in such a state. Her calmness was explained the moment I spotted a Dryad administer a drug to a different drakonid—likely a narcotic of some kind.

“If I recall, I saw her heading in the direction of that big tree…” she said, vaguely gesturing outside with her remaining arm.

A small pause.

“Do you… Do you mean the world tree? Yggdrasil?”

“I think that’s what the elves called it.”

“That will do. Sleep.”

Although they contained no magic, my words almost seemed to act like a sleeping spell, not just on the drakonid I was speaking with, but on every drakonid in the room.

We took a short break for lunch, and then set off.

“The w’rld tree, is it… How n’stalgic,” Charlotte said, en route to our destination.

It seemed the topic for the small talk this time had been decided.

“Nostalgic?” Tempest asked, tilting her head to the side. “Charlotte, have you been here before?”

“Once, when I was but a child.”

“Oh? How long ago is that?”

“By now, it must be… about a thous’nd years ago?”

A thought about ‘sense of scale’ shot through my head, but I pushed it aside.

“So the eternal princess of death has been to the tree of life before,” I said, quietly snickering to myself.

“Though thou clearly b’lieves it t’ be ironic, M’lord,” Charlotte answered, “ ‘tis not like there is much diff’rence b’tween life and undeath.” She gestured to her face. “I may not p’ssess thy warmth, but I have a soul and mind like any oth’r.”

“So you say, yet healing magic harms you.”

“ ‘Tis a side effect, M’lord.”

“Of what?” Tempest asked, tilting her head once more.

“My roy’l bloodline, o’ course,” said Charlotte, puffing out her nonexistent chest. She seemed strangely proud for something she had no control over.

“Are you sure you are not referring to ‘vampirism’?” I asked, chuckling.

The only answer I received, in turn, was laughter.

My thoughts were interrupted by a pair of tugs to my cape. I turned to see that both Davna and Navillus had reached for it at about the same time, each with a confused expression on their face.

“Master, I can’t understand it if you just talk about complicated things!” Davna said, her tail drooping low to the ground.

“Master, lonely!” Navillus said, a vague expression on her face that suggested a pout.

After a moment’s thought, I decided.

“Very well, then. I shall tell you a story about the world tree—a story about the origin of life.”

Even a child would have had trouble missing the expectations glittering in their eyes.

“To understand this, we must first split life into two—that which possesses magic and that which does not. That based on magic is, in other words, monsters like us, and the rest is everything else. And yet, there is still something which separates us monsters from creatures like spirits—in a sense, lesser gods. Any guesses?”

“Uh… Does it have something to do with the world tree?” Davna asked, craning her head up to look at its crown despite the fair distance between it and us. Truly a massive thing, it was.

“Can see?” Navillus said, putting her hands in front of her eyes.

“Well, you are both on the right track.” A smirk made its way onto my face. “To put it simply, it is—a physical body. Spirits are masses of pure magic, and thus do not possess one. Even a ghost is different from a spirit, since a ghost still has some remnant of life force from when they were alive. —Though the artificial ghosts back at the castle are a different matter, and a mystery in and of themselves. In any case, that physical body is what shackles… Er, binds our soul to the world.”

Despite my simplification, they still tilted their heads.

“It is… That physical body is what keeps our soul here.”

Finally, they nodded in comprehension.

“Then, the world tree… Legends say that, though it is forgotten who, one of the goddesses created the world a long, long time ago. In that world, she planted a seed of life—which, soon enough, grew large enough to tower into the sky and thus became Yggdrasil. From Yggdrasil rose other plants, animals and, soon enough, humans. The goddesses saw these humans, and, interested in them, the four elemental goddesses each bestowed their blessings upon a group, thus creating the elves, drakonids, dwarves and mermaids we know today. Meanwhile, Lady Entropy’s love for life was too all-encompassing to bless only one race, thus she bestowed her divine power upon the whole world and gave birth to magic and those blessed by it—monsters. Well, so the story goes, anyway. How much of it is fact is…”

‘I am sure Charlotte could tell you more about the legends and Tempest about the facts’—with that kind of line, I laughed it off.

Charlotte smiled and closed her eyes. “I would be happy t’ tell you a st’ry any time ye like. Just seek me out.”

Tempest, too, nodded in assent. “Just ask me whenever.”

“I certainly hope ‘any time you like’ does not include ‘right now’,” I said, pointing forwards. “We are here.”

Not twenty metres in front of us stood Sylph and Salamander, glaring daggers and hurling insults at each other at the tree’s base.

“Cowtitted whore.”

“Plank!”

“Hot-headed alcoholic.”

“Lazy good-for-nothing!”

I felt a strong desire to hold my head in both hands at the insults which had somehow gotten worse since I had last seen the goddesses, not 24 hours ago. With a resigned expression, I borrowed [Strength Enhancement] and clapped my hands in an attempt to get the idiots’ attention.

Given they nearly fell over, I would say I was mildly successful.

“Lady Sylph, Lady Salamander,” I said, tutting, “fighting again?”

“I,” Sylph began, and she tilted her head. “Couldn’t help it?” For a moment, she paused. “After all, she,” she said, gesturing towards Salamander, “was going t’wards,” she turned around to face the bark, “my world tree. And then,” she turned to face me again, “she started verbally abusing me?”

“Your plea, Lady Salamander?” I asked, trying to keep as straight an expression as I could without using [Pokerface]. I could feel my cheeks cramping into a smile regardless.

“Innocent, of course!” she said, puffing her cheeks in a fit of indignance. “I can’t even go on a relaxing stroll without bein’ shadowed by this… this… this… This stick insect!”

“Fire… Dangerous,” Sylph said, “to trees?”

“As if I’d lose control! I’m its goddess, you know?! If I couldn’t control it well, we’d have bigger issues than a little forest fire!”

“Can’t risk it.”

“That is enough, you two,” I said, once more clapping my hands.

Although I doubted they saw me as a superior of any sort—rightfully so, really—they still seemed to realise their behaviour was unbecoming for the divine. “Yes, Lord Astaroth…” they both said, meekly looking away.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway,” I said, “I am here to ask you a few questions, Lady Salamander.”

“Me? How’d you know I was here?” she asked, pointing to her face with slightly-widened eyes.

“I beat it out of your drakonids.” A dark chuckle left my mouth as I thought back to the ‘battle’. “I would have expected them to put up more of a fight, though…”

“You—!”

“I did not kill, do not worry,” I said, nonchalantly turning my gaze skyward. “I properly held back.”

“That’s not the problem here! I can tolerate you being here, ‘cause you’re Lady Entropy’s precious… y’know, but this is—!”

I stepped back and barely—truly just barely—managed to avoid her flaming fist.

“Do you honestly believe they would have told me any other way?” I asked—no, spat, looking back to her with narrowed eyes.

“That’s—! That’s…”

“Let me see. If I recall, what he said was… No, no. Navillus, could you repeat the drakonid’s challenge? Try to capture his tone and voice.”

She nodded, a big smile on her face. “ ‘As if I’m answerin’ that question. But… We might tell ya if ya beat us. All-on-one.’ Navillus thinks it was that.”

Her imitation was fearsomely impressive, probably because she could reshape her vocal cords to sound however she wanted to.

“Wait wait wait, back up a little,” Salamander said, blinking. “They challenged you? Is that how it is! Ah, I see, I see. They really are idiots, aren’t they. Yeah, that’s fair.”

Her change in attitude was… a little jarring, but I did not disagree with the notion that one who challenged a ninth-grade monster to combat was foolish.

“Then, my questions, Lady Salamander?”

“Yup, yup, go for it!” she said, amicably throwing an arm around my shoulder. The same arm she had earlier swung at my face.

I gently, but very firmly, removed it.

“Well,” I said after clearing my throat, “what I want to know is essentially the factors that determine your drakonids’ destinations.”

“Huh? Why do ya wanna know that? I never took you to be interested in specifics like that, Lord Astaroth…”

“I am not, and I am not happy that I am asking that question, but it is a necessary thing.”

“Well, alright, since you asked. It’s based on mana imbalance.”

“Mana imbalance?”

“Yeah. Y’know how strong monsters tend to leak mana into the environment, which’ll turn into miasma if left alone?”

“I am not sure if you are aware, but my entire country is covered in miasma. I know how it works.” I half-closed my eyes in a combination of exasperation and slight boredom.

“Right. But the thing is, that miasma doesn’t go away on its own. Which is where my children come in. Drakonids have very strong fire-attribute mana, so they lower the miasma concentration in an area just by staying there for a while. Even passing through helps.”

“I see. It would be troubling if the whole world filled with miasma, after all…”

I imagined, for a moment, a world covered in miasma. Thriving monsters, ruled by a king of the toxic, dark mana…

I had a hunch I would lose something important as a person if I kept going, so I immediately decided to stop. Given, my end goal was essentially global conquest, “turning the world into a cesspit” was not part of my plans.

“Are there no… alternatives to drakonids?” I asked, canting my head to the side. “Surely there must be another way to reduce the amount of miasma.”

“Well, it’s not like there aren’t any… For example, it’d be easy enough to perform a purification ceremony using branches of the world tree…”

I glanced upwards at the crown of leaves for a moment before returning my gaze to the red-haired, beautiful imbecile in front of me. “Have you considered bringing these alternatives up?”

“To whom?”

An imbecile, alright.

“To Lady Sylph,” I said after a few seconds of silence, my eyes half-lidded.

She did not answer, but she apparently decided that a silver-leafed tree off in the distance was more interesting than my face.

“Not once?” I asked, more incredulous than anything.

Her lack of a response told me all I needed to know. I materialised my tail and took a step in Salamander’s direction.

“What’re you-”

I interrupted her by placing a finger on her lips and closing an eye, a sly smirk on my face. A series of actions that, to anyone who did not know me, might have looked almost flirtatious, yet I could already imagine Charlotte’s resigned expression at my unrestrained act of malice.

My tail swished left, right, left, right—

And then I jabbed it right into Salamander’s arm.

“Ow!”

By jumping backwards, I barely managed to avoid a flaming fist to the face for the second time, now. My tail dissolved into shadows once more.

“What was that for?!” Salamander shouted, indignant, as she clutched the place I had stabbed.

“The venom should do nothing more than cause some pain,” I said, “but if it does harm you in a substantial way, come see me and I will do something about it.” My sly expression earlier had all but vanished, replaced once more by half-lidded eyes and a displeased mouth. “As for my reason. I did that because you are truly, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, an idiot.”

“An idi—?!”

“Lady Sylph,” I said, turning my attention away from Salamander.

“Mm?”

“Would it be possible to have your elves perform such a ceremony?”

For a few seconds, she stared at me in what would have passed for silent contemplation, had she been anyone else. “Mwu… I wasn’t paying attention. ‘Sup?”

I held back a sigh and gave her a brief explanation.

“Gotcha.” Once more, she fell silent, though she seemed to actually be thinking this time. “Sure,” she said after a few moments, “why not.”

I turned back to Salamander. “That easy. That easy. Now there will be no need for your drakonids to pass through the forest. Why did you not just do this, again?”

Rather than answer, she huffed, crossed her arms and looked away.

“Well, whatever. Not like I care. Just teach her the ritual.”

“Yes, Lord Astaroth,” she said, finally accepting her defeat with a grandiose, over-the-top sigh. Then she turned to Sylph. “Make sure to do this at least once a month, y’hear?”

“So often? But I wanna sleep.”

I sighed, turned my back to the already-back-at-it pair of goddesses and shook my head as I walked away, my Demon Generals sticking closely to me.