A person cannot choose how they are born. Not even the King of Humans.
The notion of royal lineage is absurd—when I opened my eyes, I was simply the King of Humans.

Being the King of Humans might sound grand, but a king without a nation is nothing more than a madman who believes himself to be royalty. And what is a King of Humans who has lost all his power? Just a slightly more competent but equally delusional madman.

So, I decided to live ordinarily, to occupy myself with mundane tasks and lead a normal life.
The problem was, the world wouldn’t leave me alone. I got caught up among extraordinary people, and as a creature of adaptation, I adjusted. But that didn’t change who I was at my core.

And now, out of nowhere, a saintess has come to warn me. She says she’ll deliver divine punishment with her fists if necessary. This is absurd. Why should I die just because of that?

My frustration boiled over, and I shouted, full of indignation:
"What do you think I’ve done? I’m just a regular guy who got swept up in weird circumstances!"

"Do you deny meddling with the Abyssal Demon’s designation?"

"Abyssal Demon’s designation? What even is that? Is it something you eat? And who says I messed with it? Have you crawled into my head to check? If anything, I should be the one demanding answers from the gods! I was dragged into the Abyss against my will—where was my say in any of this?"

"Lies! You conspired with the magician Rancart to—!"

Peruel, on the verge of shouting again, abruptly clamped her mouth shut and mumbled to herself.
"...No, conversing with a savage is foolish! I will not be swayed!"

"Swayed? Is that what you call the plea of an innocent lamb? When did the gods become so heartless?"

"Do not defile the name of the divine! Your actions have already spoken for themselves!"

"I told you, it wasn’t me! There’s clearly some misunderstanding here. Let’s take a moment to talk it out."

"There is no need for discussion!"

"And why not? Isn’t the ability to communicate one of humanity’s most sacred gifts? Even scripture says so. Surely such a noble gift should be used."

"It is also the devil’s most insidious tool! I have no need for conversation with you!"

With that, Peruel kicked off the ground. Though it seemed like a light step, her body soared gracefully into the air. In an instant, she reached the alley’s entrance. Pointing her finger at me, she declared:

"I will withdraw for today. But do not forget! Eyes are always watching you!"

"Watching? That sounds creepy. Are you some kind of pervert? If you’re going to keep watching, let’s be honest with each other and have a proper chat. There are plenty of empty houses around here—why don’t we pick one and—"

Peruel plugged her ears with her hands and sprinted away without looking back. No matter how desperately I called out, my voice couldn’t pierce the sacred veil covering her ears.

Tch. What a shame. I was hoping for a bit more insight.

My mind-reading abilities work only on humans, and since Peruel is human, I could read her thoughts. But I couldn’t steal glimpses of the future she might have seen. Just as not all humans perceive universal truths, I can’t peer into prophecies.

And with the Iron Saintess, whose divinations are uniquely potent, it’s even harder. I needed to draw out information gradually through conversation… but her training was impeccable.

It’s moments like these that make me realize how unfair the world is. I, powerless as I am, have to scrape and claw my way to survive, yet people like her are born with destiny on their side. And then, they target someone like me, who hasn’t done anything wrong, as if I were some natural disaster to be eradicated.

Still, her decision to warn me directly means one thing can be said with certainty:
The Golden Mirror is a Demon.

 

As I mulled over these thoughts, I casually resumed my walk through the city. She’d threatened to kill me if I sowed chaos, but what difference did that make? It’s not like I even know what constitutes chaos—or where the mines are buried.

It was then that I noticed movement in the shadows. A figure darted between the silhouettes of buildings, its crimson eyes glowing ominously as it scanned the area. The air grew heavy with a menacing aura as the figure approached me. It was Tirkanjaka, her lips pressed tightly together as she glared at something unseen.

"Well, Tir," I greeted her casually, "What brings you all the way out here? Didn’t you say you hated sunlight and would stay indoors?"

"I felt… something unsettling…"

Tir’s voice was low and chilling.
"A repulsive sensation drew me here. It was as if something screamed for me to trample it, to kill it, to claim its blood. Tell me—did you see anything here?"

I had. Just moments ago, the saintess had been here. If Peruel had lingered even a moment longer, I might have gotten the childish answer to a question like: Who would win, the Saintess or the Progenitor of Vampires?

But I wasn’t eager to spend weeks watching them battle it out. Glancing around, I feigned ignorance.

"Nothing here but me, and I’m definitely not the source of that feeling."

"Impossible! This sensation was vastly different—far more revolting than anything you or anyone else here could evoke! Are you sure you saw nothing?"

"Didn’t notice anything unusual. Maybe someone came by to bless me? Should we have you wash me with some darkness, just in case?"

"Wash you?!"

Tir hesitated, her thoughts betraying a hint of embarrassment.
‘Darkness is a part of me. To use it as a wash… He must not know, but it feels strangely intimate.’

"Never mind. Blessings are supposed to be good, right? Let’s just leave it as is."

"Hold still."

Darkness swirled around me, encasing me in a fleeting shroud. Tir’s shadows brushed past like a gentle breeze, but knowing what they represented made the experience feel oddly intimate. I ignored the sensation—it was just my imagination anyway.

Though the darkness might temporarily obscure "fate’s" gaze, it wouldn’t last long. There was no reason to delay.

"Hey, Tir. How about a quick stroll? I’ll carry a parasol to shield you from the sunlight."

"A stroll? With you?" Tir hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. After a brief moment, she let out a small cough and extended her hand.

"I don’t find the idea appealing, but for your sake, I’ll indulge you. Lead the way."

"Don’t worry. I’ll make it a walk to remember."

"You’re surprisingly confident. What could possibly make this so memorable?"

Taking her hand and holding the parasol, I smiled.

"Let’s visit the cornfields."

 

Cornfields. Despite being more akin to reeds than trees, the towering stalks greedily absorbed nutrients from the soil and hid their golden kernels deep within their sheaths. A greedy organism indeed—though not as greedy as the humans who harvested and consumed it.

As we approached the cornfield, a man raised his hand and shouted, "Stop right there! This field is under the protection of the Drum Trading Company, managed by the Oppressionist Overseer. You’re not allowed any closer!"

"Oh, come on, sir. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. I’m starving here—just one ear of corn, please? There’s so much here; surely one won’t hurt," I said, doing my best to look pitiful as I walked toward him.

But the man wasn’t swayed by my performance. He waved his hand dismissively.
"If you’re going to steal, do it like a proper scavenger and take small amounts from the outskirts! No one is allowed into the core of the field except—"

"Hoarding food? You filthy bourgeoisie! Take this! Knockout Chop!"

Before he could finish his sentence, I darted forward and struck his neck with the edge of my hand. He staggered back, coughing violently, his furious eyes locking onto mine.

"Urgh! Cough! You… cowardly—!"

Oh, he didn’t go down in one hit. How inconvenient.

"Time for Plan B: Knockout Punch! Just so you know, I keep punching until you pass out, so let’s make this quick, shall we?"

With that, I struck his head. The poor man, tasked with guarding the cornfield to prevent anyone from transforming into a homunculus, crumpled to the ground under the repeated blows.

‘Damn… this bastard… Just you wait. Once I catch my breath, I’ll summon every member of the Trading Company! You won’t escape unscathed!’

Go ahead and call them all. That’s exactly what I want.

Nonchalantly stepping over his unconscious body, I continued walking through the cornfield, holding the stalks aside as I led Tir forward.

"Come on, Tir. Let’s keep moving."

"Hmph. He’s still conscious, you know," she muttered.

"Leave him be. You shouldn’t dirty your hands with this kind of thing. I’ll handle it."

"Very well. I’ll leave it to you," Tir replied with a small laugh, following me through the field.

Each time the corn stalks brushed against her, I gently moved them aside, earning a faint smile from her. Tir seemed oddly pleased by the gesture, covering her mouth as she chuckled softly.

"Should I pick one for you?" I asked.

"I won’t eat it, but… I wouldn’t mind taking a closer look."

I plucked a cob from the stalk and peeled away its layers. The corn was tightly wrapped, as though jealously guarding its kernels. With a few forceful tugs, I stripped it bare, revealing the golden bounty inside.

The kernels were perfect—an ideal representation of what corn should be.

"A fine harvest," Tir commented.

"The kernels are bursting with life. Let’s see how it tastes."

Biting into the corn, I savored its sweetness. Freshly harvested corn can be eaten raw, and this was no exception. Compared to the chimera beans of the Military Nation, this was on another level. Chimera beans prioritized utility over flavor, but this… this was both abundant and delicious. If only it weren’t cursed by the Golden Mirror.

As I enjoyed the corn, Tir suddenly exclaimed, her face pale with concern.
"Stop! I told you not to eat it!"

"Relax. A little won’t hurt. It won’t even digest properly in my system, and besides, my body isn’t bound to the Heat Nation—it’s foreign to this land."

"Still…"

"Trust me. It’s fine."

In fact, eating it might even help me resonate slightly with the Golden Mirror.

Tir continued to watch me nervously as I chewed and swallowed the corn. My stomach, ever the indiscriminate absorber, welcomed it without hesitation.

"It’s delicious, but it won’t stay fresh for long," I said. "Corn loses its flavor quickly after harvesting."

"But it hasn’t been harvested yet."

"It might as well have been. The Golden Mirror is an alchemist. To produce corn at this scale, it would have drained the land of nutrients. Just as corn depletes the soil, the Golden Mirror must have siphoned the earth’s vitality to create this crop."

I gestured toward the ground, which was completely desiccated. The soil was so barren and lifeless that even chimera beans wouldn’t grow here. Magic accelerates natural processes, and alchemy transforms materials. The Golden Mirror likely compressed months of biological activity into mere moments to produce this field.

"This corn is practically discarded. Without water or nutrients, this land is as good as dead," I explained.

Hecto must know this. With the soil already depleted, there’s no reason to delay harvesting—yet the crop remains untouched. I know why. I read his thoughts. I even understand why he asked for an extra day.

Tir gazed around the cornfield, her voice contemplative.
"Truly a mystery. What is this Golden Mirror?"

"Tir, do you know about demons?"

Caught off guard by the question, Tir didn’t react immediately. After a moment of thought, she answered.
"I’ve heard of them. The Holy Order speaks of them as enemies to be eradicated."

"Have you ever seen one?"

"No. I’ve searched for them, but their true nature is elusive. The descriptions are vague, contradictory, and unreliable."

"Let me explain, then. A demon is a god that has grasped a great truth."

"Hmm," Tir hummed softly, intrigued. She didn’t interrupt, instead listening with genuine interest—a rarity among those I’ve explained this to.

"And a demon is also human."

Tir’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn’t dismiss my claim. She was truly the best kind of listener.

"Do you remember what I told you about unique magic? It’s an extension of one’s mental imagery."

"I recall."

"Well, there are two ways to extend that imagery: by expanding the object or expanding the concept."

I raised two fingers, illustrating my point.

"When mental imagery attaches to a specific object or tool—like Maximilian’s gears—you get object expansion. It’s powerful but limited to that object’s function. If the object is disrupted, the magic loses its effect."

I continued, "But when mental imagery applies to a broader concept—like a rule or phenomenon—it affects everything within a certain range. It’s less focused but universally impactful within its domain."

Tir nodded, following along intently. She wasn’t just a good listener; she absorbed information like a sponge.

"Now, demons transcend even that. Their imagery isn’t tied to any single thing but resonates with the fundamental truths of the universe itself."

As I pushed deeper into the cornfield, the space around us seemed to shift. I felt it. We were no longer just in a field of corn.

This was the Golden Palace—the dwelling of the Golden Mirror.

"What is the body, really?" I asked aloud.

And at that moment, as I brushed aside the last stalk, a blade flashed toward my throat.