I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [457]

The spell that lured all into dreams enveloped the entire village of Skoll. Any sentient being with memory and the ability to dream would fall under its influence, sinking into slumber.

This was an exceptionally advanced magic—so powerful that even the thousand-year-old Grand Mage Frieren was not exempt. The most she could do was retain her original memories within the dream, recognizing that she was dreaming, yet unable to escape from it.

However, within the spell's affected area, three figures strode toward Skoll as if completely unaffected.

They were clearly not human. Each of them bore long, monstrous horns atop their heads.

They were demons—creatures that shared human-like appearances, spoke human-like languages, and even mimicked human behaviors.

The war between humans and demons had lasted over a thousand years.

Eighty years ago, the hero Himmel defeated the Demon King, forcing the remnants of the demon race into hiding and granting humanity a brief era of peace.

But after Himmel's death, the demons resurfaced.

One such example was Aura the Guillotine, one of the Seven Sages of Destruction. Not long ago, she launched an assault on humanity—only to be slain by Frieren.

"Are Frieren and Aesc still asleep?"

The question came from the demon with a slender build, a single horn protruding from his forehead. He wore a high-collared coat that covered half of his face, his long twin swords hanging at his waist. His hands remained tucked into his sleeves.

"Yes. I've been 'watching' them. It seems they lack the ability to escape the dream. They're still lying in bed."

The response came from the only female among the three. Her left hand rested constantly on the hilt of her sword, and an eyepatch covered her face.

"Who cares about that?! Can I kill everyone in the village already?"

The final demon was a towering figure, his blood-red hair as if dyed in gore. A feral grin stretched across his face, his horns uneven—one broken off.

"I heard that elf, Aesc, may be a mage, but she fights as well as any warrior. I can't wait to taste her blood."

"Let's get one thing straight."

The one-horned demon shot the other two a sidelong glance, his tone cold.

"If things go south, I'll run immediately."

"A coward like you being called a 'General' by humans? That's not even funny."

The broken-horned demon sneered, glaring at him.

"Fine then! If things go bad, you can tuck your tail and run. But I'm not leaving until I've had my fill of slaughter!"

"That pathetic human title means nothing to me. I just don't want to die."

The one-horned demon's voice remained indifferent.

"The Demon King's orders, the future of our race—none of that matters to me. As long as I can survive, I'll do whatever it takes."

Demons did not possess human emotions.

They were inherently selfish creatures.

Demons feared death. Demons revered strength. The only reason the Seven Sages of Destruction followed the Demon King and "All-Knowing" Shulahad was because those two were stronger than any of them—capable of killing them.

The female demon never spoke a word. The argument between her two companions stirred not the slightest ripple in her mind.

But soon, her calm was broken.

For the first time, a hint of disturbance crossed her face.

"Wait… Someone just woke up."

The tension in her voice immediately silenced the other two.

Both turned their attention to her.

The female demon possessed a unique form of magic—one that allowed her to turn any non-living object into her "eyes."

Before Frieren and her group arrived in the village, she had planted her eyes all throughout Skoll, using them to observe her targets.

Her plan was simple—use the Dream Festival to eliminate Frieren and the others while they were asleep.

Both human and demon mages relied heavily on magical perception.

To avoid being detected by Aesc and the others, these demons had deliberately kept their distance—far beyond the range of magical perception.

But this meant they couldn't immediately reach Frieren's group to kill them.

Unable to sense mana from afar, they could only rely on the female demon's eyes to monitor Aesc and the others.

"Who woke up?"

The one-horned demon's voice carried urgency.

Without delay, the female demon relayed what she saw.

"It's Aesc. Aesc has awakened!"

With that single sentence, the air around them grew ice-cold.

The one-horned demon, ever wary of death, already had one foot out the door, preparing to flee at a moment's notice.

From everything they knew, Aesc was far more dangerous than Frieren.

Frieren, at least, was someone they had a chance of defeating.

But Aesc… Even if all three of them fought together, it would still be perilous.

Unlike his cowardly companion, the broken-horned demon only grinned, eager for battle.

Before either of them could speak, the female demon's expression shifted once more.

"Wait—Aesc just vanished from her room!"

In that instant, all three demons' faces changed.

Because at that very moment—

Their magical perception detected an overwhelming magical presence.

A terrifying, suffocating force.

"How unexpected. You three seem entirely unaffected by the grand spell covering Skoll."

A soft click echoed as pristine white heels touched the ground.

Long, flowing sleeves and a billowing cloak—pure as an angel's wings.

The moment Aesc appeared—

The moment her gray-blue eyes opened—

The air itself turned heavy, as though the world had become solid stone.

The three demons could barely move. Even breathing felt like a struggle.

Their tension was palpable, yet Aesc remained utterly composed.

Cold. But effortless.

The so-called Dream Festival of Skoll was, in truth, an extraordinarily high-level spell.

The fact that even the thousand-year-old Frieren had succumbed to it was proof of its terrifying power.

During the Dream Festival, all sentient beings who approached Skoll would be forced into slumber.

Even demons—creatures devoid of human emotions—were no exception.

As far as Aesc knew, the only demon ever recorded to have resisted this spell was Grausam of "Miracle," one of the Seven Sages of Destruction and the most powerful mental magic user among demons.

But Grausam had died many years ago—slain by the hero Himmel's blade.

That was why Aesc found it so strange that these three demons remained unaffected.

As for Frieren's master, the Grand Mage Serie—Aesc had never heard of her ever encountering this spell.

Either Serie had never been interested in it and had simply never come—

Or she had come, resisted it effortlessly, and no one ever knew.

Aesc had never even considered the possibility that Serie might be affected by the magic here.

But now, sensing something unusual, she cast a glance at the three demons before her.

They were no ordinary foot soldiers.

"Alonger of the Blood Axe, Rigar of the Crescent Moon, Uckande the Void Severer."

Aesc's gaze sharpened, her voice carrying weight.

"Three Demon Generals appearing together? Quite the grand occasion."

The war between humans and demons had dragged on for centuries, during which humans had made a constant effort to understand their enemy.

They categorized highly dangerous demons—those with extraordinary combat prowess and battle-hardened experience—as Generals.

Unlike humans, demons treated magic as an instinct rather than mere knowledge, using it as naturally as breathing. Many demon spells still remained beyond human comprehension, unable to be analyzed or replicated.

But this didn't mean all demons were mages.

There were also warriors—demons who had refined their combat techniques to near perfection. Their long lifespans gave them an overwhelming advantage, allowing them to push their martial skills beyond human limits. Some demons were even far stronger than Aiz, the one hailed as the strongest human warrior.

The village of warriors where Stark was born—

The elven village where Frieren was born—

Both had been destroyed by Demon Generals.

Aesc recalled the deeds of the three before her.

Alonger of the Blood Axe—arguably the most battle-hungry and bloodthirsty among demons. His brutality was so notorious that humans had attempted to hunt him down nine times in the past, yet every attempt failed. Each time, he slaughtered his pursuers before escaping unscathed.

Rigar of the Crescent Moon—once stormed into the capital of a small kingdom alone, cutting down every soldier in her path and slaughtering the entire royal family.

Uckande the Void Severer—hundreds of years ago, he fought the strongest human warrior of his era one-on-one and killed him.

Had Frieren been in Aesc's place, she would have had no choice but to run.

Mages, despite their vast arsenal of spells, were unexpectedly fragile in close combat. Letting a warrior get too close meant certain death.

This applied to both Frieren and Serie.

But the one standing here was Aesc.

Which meant—

The only ones who should be thinking about running were the three demons facing her.

"Not planning to flee?"

Aesc drew a knight's sword from her staff, her voice cold.

"Or do you actually believe that ganging up on me gives you a chance?"

Her gray-blue eyes gleamed with ruthless clarity.

"Did your so-called 'God of War,' Livale, fail to warn you about me after I cut off his arm?"

No mercy.

A killing intent as cold as the depths of winter enveloped the three Demon Generals, piercing their skin like a million steel needles.

The sheer intensity of it made their decision for them.

In the same instant—

Rigar and Uckande turned and fled, their figures blurring as they vanished into the distance.

Only Alonger remained.

Gripping his massive double-edged battle-axe, he charged.

Rigar and Uckande ran because they knew they stood no chance.

Was Alonger truly too foolish to recognize the gap between their strength?

Of course not.

But the battlelust ignited by Aesc's killing intent had completely drowned out his fear of death.

Like a war chariot, Alonger thundered forward, each step cratering the ground beneath him.

His presence swelled with every stride, his bloodlust mounting.

Aesc narrowed her eyes.

Lowering her stance, she leveled her sword parallel to the ground.

Unlike Alonger's wild, ferocious aura, hers was sharp—refined.

A chilling stillness in contrast to Alonger's raging momentum.

In the next moment—

Both figures vanished.

Flashes of cold steel erupted—blades clashed, danced, cut, and reflected the moonlight.

The ground shattered beneath their feet.

Then—

A single instant passed.

Blood splattered across the night air.

The belated sound of flesh being cut finally echoed.

"Splurt!"

A shadow was sent hurtling backward—crashing through several massive trees.

Aesc lowered her sword, its tip angling toward the ground.

Her brows furrowed.

"The wound is too shallow…"

Her gaze shifted toward Alonger.

The demon staggered to his feet.

His clothes were in tatters, his body—like sculpted marble—etched with countless deep sword wounds, blood gushing freely.

Even his battle-axe had shattered in the clash, leaving him gripping only the broken handles.

Yet—

Aesc could see it.

Alonger's fighting spirit hadn't diminished in the slightest.

If anything, it was still rising.

"What incredible speed… I couldn't even see your sword move! Amazing!"

Under Aesc's watchful gaze—

The blood dripping from Alonger's wounds stirred.

It pulsed, slithering down his arms—

Coiling around the broken axe handles.

In an instant—

A massive blood-red battle-axe materialized in his hands.

It gleamed with a crystalline luster—yet reeked of raw bloodlust.

A putrid, metallic scent filled the air.

Alonger grinned, his expression growing ever more twisted.

"Come, Aesc! Let me enjoy this even more!"

"Make my blood boil!"

"Let's fight! A bloodbath—until one of us dies!"

With a roar—

Alonger stomped down, shattering the ground beneath him.

His gigantic axe—now imbued with a terrifying weight—came crashing down toward Aesc.

The force behind it sent a shockwave ripping through the air.

The impact alone obliterated the trees behind Aesc, splintering them into fragments.

Leaves and debris whirled through the sky.

And amidst the storm of shattered wood—

A flash of silver flickered.

A single, precise stroke.

Alonger felt it.

A sharp pain at his waist.

Another sword wound.

The Aesc his axe had struck—

Was a mere afterimage.

The real Aesc had already moved behind him.

"I see… You hardened your own blood the moment I cut you—forming an armor to protect yourself."

"That level of timing… It's something only someone who has survived countless battles could achieve."

The blood-formed battle-axe in Alonger's hand—

Was another result of his blood magic.

His technique had been completely seen through.

But Alonger didn't care.

He was too far gone.

Completely immersed in the ecstasy of battle.

Aesc's words fell on deaf ears.

More blood streamed from his wounds—

Pooling, fusing into his weapon.

The battle-axe grew.

Its size doubled.

Tripled.

Greater mass.

Greater power.

Greater reach.

A monstrous shadow engulfed Aesc.

The axe howled through the air—

Ripping through the wind—

Bending the very trees around it.

But faced with this enormous disparity in strength—

Aesc's expression remained calm.

Lifting her sword—

A thousand slashes filled the air.