Consequences & Preparations

The Demon Lord is dead. In the past, I might have considered it a source for celebration, but now I don't even know if it should be called a victory.

On one hand, the world is safe. On the other...

Well, I don't have another hand, do I.

I spend the equivalent of an eternity in hospital. Again. When I finally get up and take a good look at myself, my mind escapes to the next battle.

If we lose, I'll die for good. The Cyrene are unlikely to reincarnate me again, now that I've gotten so close. But if we win, what then? If we make it to the greater gods, what happens? Am I sent back here? Do I get to walk this world as a burnt corpse with only half of my limbs intact?

If I can never see Sofia again, what is left for me? Vol and Elizabeth have helped me thus far, and I consider them my closest friends, but what will they do when all this is over?

Who knows.

Who knows.

---

"Vol, where are you on the inscriptions?"

"Nearly there, Seb. Elizabeth, hand me that store, please."

"This one?"

"Yes, thank you."

*Ca-chic*

"That's the last of it," Vol smiles, getting up off the floor and cracking his neck.

We've decided to make one final modification to the manacaster. Such things are easy with the new modules.

Vol places the final module on the table beside two others - one for each of us. These ones are special. They contain the finished celestial spell, which allowed us to enter the realm of the gods. If Civis or any of the Cyrene try to cast us out, one of us can simply cast the spell and bring us back to the celestial realm.

It feels more real now. The end is closing in on us.

"Ah, Sebastian, won't you be coming down for celebrations?"

The king stands in the doorway, looking at me with a mixture of pride, relief, and what I think is fear. Or possibly pity. Regardless, it makes no difference.

"No, we're busy."

"Eh, Seb," Vol says, hesitantly, "Maybe we *should* go."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well, there isn't much more we can do right now, is there? And... I think the company would be good for you."

I can hear the concern in his voice, but also the slight pressure, indicating that he isn't really asking. Vol really is so much like a parent. I get the sense that if I rejected him now, he'd tell me to go to my room, not that I really have one on the ship.

"Fine."

The relief is apparent on all their faces. They all care so much.

Still, if they didn't, I probably wouldn't be alive right now.

---

It wasn't as bad as I had thought. I've had plenty of these exact celebrations before - one for each Demon Lord I've defeated - and I never found them much fun. This one was okay, though. Vol is surprisingly funny at a party.

All the ships had been tethered closely to one another and linked with bridges, so anyone could travel between them.

There were plenty of drinks, of course, but neither Elizabeth nor I drank. We spent most of the party arm-wrestling with various soldiers and adventurers from the fleet.

The worst part was the speech. The speech was my uncle's, but it might as well have been mine. I don't think a single person looked away from us during that speech. They seemed to have a tough time believing that the three of us had defeated the Demon Lord singlehandedly.

That, however, lead to my favorite part of the night.

Some particularly irritated D, C, and B-rank adventurers challenged us to a duel.

It was all fair and square of course. Just a dozen muscly guys in full plate armor against a tipsy magician, a young woman and a kid with one arm.

Vol, being rather drunk, just stood still behind his barrier. Sometimes, he'd create a barrier directly in front of some of the men, causing them to run straight into it.

Elizabeth and I fought without weapons of our own free will, while the men used poles for training.

The fight took all of 3 minutes, since we couldn't kill them and they were rather stubborn. I mainly just avoided their attacks, occasionally tripping them up or elbowing them in the shoulder.

Once, though, I accidentally tried to use my missing arm to grab an incoming strike. The attack hit me straight in the throat.

---

I sigh and lie back in bed, rubbing the black mark on my neck. It still aches a bit from the hit.

It's almost morning now and the fleet is all but asleep. It's my time to rest, too.

In two days, we arrive in Tayde. Jonas and the mage have had plenty of times to get the robes we need. We have the manacaster and we have the spells. There's no reason to delay.

The end is coming.

But is it the Cyrene's end? Or mine?