Frieren: Reincarnated As a Demon

Chapter 23: Thank You, You Bad Guy

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Faced with the dilemma of being unable to pull his feet out of the compacted soil, Ash felt frustrated, but Bazalt, on the other hand, saw it as a tremendous humiliation:

"——I will kill you... I will definitely kill you, human!!"

"Ah~ Wait a second." Dusting himself off, Ash glanced at the position of the sword and smiled, shaking his head. "You might have misunderstood something."

"What?"

"Actually, I'm a demon."

"...What?"

With no one else around, Ash revealed the truth with a smile, which left Bazalt stunned. He even suspected that Ash might be deceiving him.

Before Bazalt could respond, Ash raised his hand and pointed to the sky. "Take a look."

"Huh?"

Instinctively, Bazalt glanced upwards, spotting a silver object falling rapidly from the sky. The speed was terrifying, as if it had been flung high by the earlier repulsive force and was now plunging back down, pulled by gravity.

But faced with this rapidly falling blade, Bazalt found himself powerless to dodge. His heart raced as instinctive fear gripped him, his pupils shrinking at the sight.

Before he could lower his head, the blade, with dazzling sparks, pierced through his head armor, stabbing directly into his forehead.

Blood poured from the helmet, and his enormous body trembled momentarily before collapsing with a thunderous crash.

Seeing this, Ash smiled in satisfaction. "I thought if it didn't work, I'd have to drag this fight out a bit, but the result turned out better than expected."

Had the blade pierced just a little less deeply, the two of them might have been locked in a stalemate. This success made Ash resolute—he would definitely buy a giant sword in the future.

As Bazalt fell, his consciousness faded quickly, and unfortunately, even in his final moments, he still couldn't figure out whether Ash was a human or a demon.

Ash, however, didn't spare him another glance. After making up his mind about acquiring a giant sword, he shifted his magic power and charged at the remaining demons, finishing them off swiftly.

Even though they belonged to the same race, Ash felt no hesitation in killing them. Just like humans would kill each other, demons killing their own kind was equally common. This kind of conflict carried no psychological burden. And in this case, he was even more comfortable doing it, as he had some level of familiarity with the elves.

After all, not every demon was loyal to the Demon King. Most who appeared to be were simply acting out of fear. Demons, at their core, were loyal only to themselves.

Many of the great demons were powerful enough that they didn't concern themselves with the Demon King or even the survival of their race. The very structure of demon society meant they had a weak sense of racial loyalty.

...

By the time the sounds of battle in the village had completely died down, the demon clan's night attack was finally over. But flames and smoke still rose from the village, casting a heavy shadow over the area.

Since demons left no remains after death, the ground was now littered primarily with the corpses of fallen elves, their bodies strewn across the blood-soaked earth.

The expressions of the surviving villagers were grim, but surprisingly, no one broke into tears. Some were even calmer than Ash had expected.

"...I can't help but feel they're as cold as the demons. Are they just a peaceful version of demons?"

Ash, feeling a bit melancholic about the death of someone familiar, walked past the corpses. He glanced at Frieren, who was staring at her fallen companion's body with a blank expression, and couldn't help but sigh.

Frieren looked up, clearly displeased. "...Are you ready to be punched for saying something like that right now?"

"Don't get me wrong. I was just voicing a thought. I didn't expect you to hear me since I said it so quietly. Normally, I wouldn't say such things out loud."

"It's even worse to say it behind someone's back."

"Well, are you planning to hit me, the person who just helped you? If you can do that, then I truly admire you. Do whatever you want."

"Pathetic."

"...I just helped you, didn't I?"

"Thank you, pathetic one, but I'm not in the mood for a chat right now." Frieren lowered her tired eyes as she glanced at the bodies of her fallen companions.

Her arm was still bleeding, but it was temporarily bandaged with gauze. Millie, who had performed some emergency first aid, approached and sighed.

"This village can't survive any longer. It's time to move on... What are you planning to do?"

"Is that what you're thinking about right now? You're even colder than I am." Ash gave her a bewildered look. Millie just shrugged. "I can't help it. Everyone here is so distant. The only one I'm even remotely familiar with is Frieren."

"…I see."

It felt as though these elves were, indeed, a peaceful version of demons. This time, however, Ash kept that thought to himself, sighing at their apparent indifference.

He collected himself and, thinking of Serie, who also showed little concern for her own people, he stopped dwelling on it. Glancing at the corpses scattered around them, he suggested, "Anyway... before we move on, we should at least take care of these bodies, don't you think?"

"That's all we can do for now."

Frieren sighed softly, saying nothing more to him. Quietly, she and the other elves began to tend to the fallen.

Before they could finish, however, an unfamiliar figure stepped into the ravaged village—a late arrival.

Coincidentally, it was someone Ash barely knew—Flamme, his senior sister.