TBR CH200

Sometimes, Roland wasn’t as omnipotent as his students imagined.

The black cat held its breath, shrinking into a silent, pitch-black ball on the spot. Its shadowy outline was sharply defined. Kriesmeier’s wings, meanwhile, spread out unrestrainedly under the moonlight, beautiful yet cold.

The moonlight was a milky white river, clearly dividing them.

The Demon King indifferently withdrew his gaze.

It was like looking at something as worthless as withered leaves at his feet or invisible air.

A sigh unconsciously formed on Roland’s lips. The moment Kriesmeier appeared, the screen was filled with symbolic red danger, and the tragic and stirring symphony of slaughter belonging to Abyss‘s boss played in his ears.

But he used a hotkey to turn off the background music, leaving only Kriesmeier’s arrogant and deep voice:

“Merely a black cat?”

Hilda must be frantically winking at him from off-screen, but Roland still couldn’t respond.

His fingers stiffened on the keyboard, listening to the witch awkwardly explain, “This is not an ordinary black cat.”

But His Majesty the Demon King wasn’t looking for an “unordinary black cat” either.

No, no, Kriesmeier shouldn’t be looking for anything right now.

Roland thought. So why was the Demon King here? Even if he wanted to find an excuse to convince himself, walking from the Demon King’s castle after dinner to the Kingdom was clearly a bit too far.

As he thought this, he heard Kriesmeier utter his exact thoughts.

“I’m not looking for anything,” the Abyss Demon’s fingers silently clasped the scythe’s snow-white hilt, as if to confirm something, “and I have no interest in ‘magical creatures’.”

He must be in a bad mood.

Roland pressed down on his thoughts that were silently slipping away, preventing them from straying too far in a direction unhelpful for solving the problem.

But he still couldn’t help but think that Kriesmeier was clearly troubled, evident in his gloomy and malevolent expression, his undisguised aggression, and his wings erratically raised in a dangerous manner.

Was he so angry because he had harbored some kind of expectation, only to find nothing?

Hilda was clearly also captivated by the Demon King’s transforming form, holding her breath.

Kriesmeier lifted his foot under the moonlight, stepping into mid-air.

He had now reached perfection; if he wished, even his broken horn could instantly regenerate. Behind him, the moon slowly stained crimson, as if changing with his will.

“Then,” Hilda began to be glad she hadn’t brought her timid python. Her face was equally pale, and she secretly glanced at the unresponsive black cat, doubting whether what she was doing was correct.

Though other options were clearly worse…

And besides, bringing the Archmage before the Demon King and letting them solve the problem themselves. This simple method had saved the precarious Mirar Continent countless times. She found it hard to imagine it ever failing.

“I apologize for misunderstanding your meaning, but what exactly do you want?”

Kriesmeier now expressionlessly overlooked them, as if evaluating the value of this confusion, or whether there was still any need to give this farce another chance.

“A question.”

The Demon King was quite sparing with words in some situations.

The witch fell silent. She racked her brain, wondering if that counted as an answer.

But Roland thought, he understood.

The Demon King didn’t come here to find something.

What bothered him was precisely the desire to “find something.” The memory-forgetting spell should have worked perfectly, but he left too many traces, and something made the Demon King suspicious again.

But this was also terrible.

He had hoped the other person wouldn’t suffer for it at all. It seems he was right…

He still felt pain.

Roland felt a piercing pain in his heart. He opened his mouth but found that he still couldn’t make a sound.

He just stared with amber eyes, like the black cat on the screen, trying to imprint the Demon King, who was hovering above the moonlight, into his vision.

But in the other’s eyes, it was just a black cat now, nothing more.

“I don’t think you have anything to tell me.” Kriesmeier stated plainly, every word carrying a terrifying sense of oppression. “I’ve wasted my time on you.”

The Demon King turned to leave.

Cannot speak. Roland thought, covering his mouth. Cannot let anything of the carefully planned scheme be ruined.

He felt his throat’s sigh crash against his palm like a wave. After a long time, he once again felt Kriesmeier’s gaze from when they were strangers, a gaze that looked at him like nonexistent scum, as he walked past the black cat.

The black cat, which had been motionless all along, suddenly turned its head.

As if suddenly infused with life, its amber pupils suddenly brightened, as if feeling sad for something.

Its tail swayed and stood up, its ears perked up with the upward movement of its head, seeming to want to unconsciously follow Kriesmeier forward a few steps.

…He still couldn’t help himself.

“Kris.”

Roland didn’t know if he had blurted out that name. Probably not, because the Demon King’s footsteps didn’t falter in the slightest. He simply walked past the black cat calmly, without a trace of lingering attachment.

Perhaps he did.

Roland closed his eyes, closing the gap where his fingers had loosened unknowingly.

He felt as though he rarely looked at Kriesmeier’s back. The Demon King’s silver-gray hair was like molten tin, leaving a clear afterimage on his retina.

This was an unexpected encounter. Even so, he felt happiness burning within the pain, because he had gotten his wish. Just seeing Kriesmeier was enough to make him happy.

When he opened his eyes again, the Demon King had almost disappeared from his sight.

The moment this thought appeared, Roland suddenly realized something was wrong.

His fingers almost instinctively pressed the keyboard. Thanks to the “Zero Distance Internet Cafe”‘s hardware, the black cat made the correct choice in a fraction of a second, leaving a hideous burn mark on the ground where it had just been.

This was… a test.

Kriesmeier stood in the void, and his gaze towards it changed.

There were only a few beings on the entire Mirar Continent capable of withstanding the Demon King’s attack.

Although this was not a quick response, Roland had prematurely turned off the BGM that heralded danger, and he was immersed in bad emotions, unable to extricate himself until the danger grazed his cat’s tail.

His reaction was quick.

But in a sense, it was too slow.

…Damn it. Roland thought, he should have let Kriesmeier kill it, so the clues would end there. The Demon King’s sudden curiosity would also come to nothing.

Kriesmeier’s scythe burned with black flames, and the most dazzling part was the spotless white bone on the handle.

The rib pierced the entire weapon in a perfect arc, filling every previously flawed space, making “Demoneye” a brand new weapon, shedding its overly violent flaws and adding an elegant and skillful magical power.

Roland, upon realizing the correct course of action, quickly let go of the keyboard.

He watched Kriesmeier hold his own rib, belatedly grasping a strange, yet rather sweet, realization.

The black cat was obviously giving up. This time, Kriesmeier effortlessly pressed the scythe against the black cat’s neck. In the next second, it could pierce its body.

It was ready to impale itself.

But it almost forgot that at the same time and place, there was also his chief disciple here. Hilda looked at the volatile scene in front of her in shock. She thought she had endured enough shocks.

“No!” she instinctively cried out, as if she had reverted to being the Archmage’s assistant from years ago, constantly worried about her mentor’s various absurd demands. “Your Majesty, the Demon King, you cannot kill it. It… I thought you two could talk properly. If you’ve forgotten, this black cat is my mentor, Roland Xavier!”

A terrible silence.

“—A pet he kept when he was still alive.”

Roland quickly picked up her words.

Well, it didn’t sound too abrupt… probably.

Hilda was stunned because her furiously shouted words had been given a bizarre ending.

Both human and demon lips were tightly pressed together. They simultaneously looked down, to the source of the words, a black cat that had finally spoken.

And the black cat twitched its ears, feeling that it would be better to commit suicide by hitting the scythe now.

But it had already missed the best time to do so.

Roland swallowed his urge to sigh. Through the screen, he looked at Kriesmeier’s unpredictable gaze, wondering how things had come to this, and began a speech to the Demon King whose core points were all fabricated.

He persisted in trying to persuade the Demon King, despite Hilda’s look of “how could you possibly deceive the Demon King with that?”

Then, the Demon King wavered.

“You say you’re the cat raised by that mage named Roland.” Kriesmeier paused for a while and said slowly, “He taught you how to speak. Mages are always so peculiar. Then, you must know him very well.”

Hilda’s eyes turned incredulous.

The black cat delicately stood on its fluffy paws, appearing light under the moonlight. The Demon King finally landed on the ground, dry leaves rustling as they were torn. He looked at this presumptuous animal with a lack of trust.

But the black cat’s eyes also seemed to hide something; emptiness flashed across its beautiful pupils.

“Of course,” Roland bluffed in the black cat’s voice, “Lord from the Abyss, I think you can allow that human lady to leave. You don’t believe what she says, do you? She knows nothing. When the Archmage was alive, I was the only one closest to him.”

…

Kriesmeier was silent, his wings folded. He took two steps towards the black cat.

“You can go,” the black cat’s voice even carried a certain convincing magic. “Hilda. His Majesty the Demon King just wants to know something from me.”

The purple-haired witch suddenly looked up.

She looked very confused, but she was, after all, the most excellent mage of her time. She quickly grasped the situation, then tightened her jaw and looked at the black cat, putting on the most outstanding acting performance of her life:

“You must never betray my teacher; he was kind to you. Otherwise—”

Roland almost wanted to applaud her.

Her reaction perfectly corroborated the lie he had just concocted.

The Demon King Kriesmeier did not stop her until the witch’s figure disappeared into the distant forest path.

A layer of mist rose in the forest at some point, and damp moisture clung to the black cat’s fur.

It was dense, soft fur, as smooth and slick as a cloud in the night. It sprang onto a tree stump, within the Demon King’s reach.

The Demon King remained motionless, like a statue.

“It feels very comfortable to touch,” the black cat said alluringly, while licking its fur, “Do you want to try?”

Kriesmeier looked at it coldly: “No.”

The black cat let out a gentle laugh. Its eyes appeared brighter in the mist.

“Then let’s talk about what interests you. Archmage Roland is indeed dead, and you have no need to look for him. Even if you saw him, you wouldn’t find him any different from others.”

“You—”

Kriesmeier uttered the first word with a hint of threat. This black cat was indeed extraordinary.

Unlike Hilda, it didn’t ask him what he wanted, but directly stated what was on his mind. But for some reason, this made him feel even more displeased.

“Sometimes,” the black cat’s voice gradually became ethereal, as if they were all in a dream, “the urge to find something doesn’t mean there’s truly anything worth finding. The Archmage once said this is a common psychological phenomenon. I apologize, although he always believed your entire race should see a psychologist, I don’t think you’ve heard of psychology. In simple terms, creating illusions due to loneliness, and then seeking those illusions, might happen, but it won’t yield results.”

“You know what I dreamed.” Kriesmeier’s voice held a questioning tone. His fingers, pressing against the scythe, were still surrounded by black flames.

“I don’t know,” the black cat said, “but I’d be happy to listen.”

It seemed to intentionally guide the conversation towards the occult. The surrounding mist grew thicker, and a relaxing yet drowsy atmosphere heavily pressed down within the mist.

In such a confined space, the black cat relaxed, hooking itself onto a tree branch with its tail, appearing like a strange creature that would only exist in dreams, as if it didn’t matter what was confessed to it.

Kriesmeier did not speak.

The black cat gazed at him thoughtfully, and after a while, said cautiously, “You can’t remember, can you?”

The Demon King’s eyes burned with terrifying anger as he looked at it, but above the anger was a pitch-black void of being seen through.

He did not refute, even though this fact, which he had never revealed, was spoken by a cat. He had to admit that he had some expectation for the subsequent analysis.

But the black cat suddenly changed its tone and said cheerfully:

“Things that are forgotten are, of course, things that are not important at all. The Archmage always said that. Your Majesty, the Demon King, even if your life has no end, you shouldn’t waste time on such ethereal things.”

“What on earth—”

Before the Demon King could finish his gritted words, the black cat took a step forward:

“Do something better, like enjoying delicious food, watching opera performances in the kingdom, having your subordinates find you interesting things, or raising a cat like me.”

As it spoke, it tilted its head to the right, as if wanting to rub against the Demon King’s hand.

But the Demon King had already withdrawn his hand.

Kriesmeier closed his eyes. He drew his scythe, and the new, snow-white bone was surrounded by flames capable of reducing flesh to bone with a mere touch.

He must have found it absurd how he was genuinely tricked for a moment by this seemingly earnest black cat, to the point where simply looking into its eyes made him feel like the answer was within reach.

It was clearly a liar.

“I’m serious,” the black cat’s voice accompanied his thoughts, “after you kill me, carefully consider my advice.”

Roland said this with a smile in front of the computer screen.

It had been a long time since he had truly spoken with Kriesmeier. After the initial tension dissipated, his fingertips tightened. He looked at the Demon King, who was looking at him displeasedly from the other side of the screen, and his voice unconsciously became lighthearted.

He actually listened to his nonsense up to this point.

…He was truly very cute.

After this farewell, how long until they could meet again?

He avoided thinking about this question at the moment, and instead, watched Kriesmeier approach the black cat with murderous intent, a smile on his face. There was not a trace of leniency in the other’s eyes, neither love nor hate, only anger at being fooled.

This was an unforeseen small crisis.

They weren’t supposed to meet now. Despite this, Roland still felt very happy.

He slowly leaned down, resting his head on his arm, then tilted his head, just like the black cat on the screen.

His eyes reflected Kriesmeier on the screen, calmly awaiting the final scene to unfold as expected once more.

“Don’t take me for a fool,” then he heard the voice wrapped in cold fury, almost doubting his ears.

Kriesmeier choked the black cat by its neck with a pale finger, but this time it was to prevent it from escaping. “Roland Xavier.”

The mist in the forest grew denser.

Although the Demon King Kriesmeier might not notice such a small trick, Hilda knew perfectly well. This mist was definitely not naturally formed.

Such a large-scale elemental convergence must be the result of the Archmage himself using silent spells.

As for what atmosphere her mentor wanted to create, only he knew.

The witch’s dark purple hair clung to her cheeks from the dampness. She cursed under her breath, gathered her skirt, and carefully walked through a patch of exposed mud in the forest.

A little further away, the area had already dissolved into a milky white, completely obscuring anything.

To prevent unnecessary trouble, the black cat spawned deep within the forest, which conveniently prevented the Demon King from causing widespread disaster, but also made it difficult to find a way out through the misty woods.

Hilda shivered.

She laboriously pulled out her wand and muttered a spell haphazardly. Flashing points of light flew from the tip of the staff. She sighed and walked in the direction indicated by the lights, her heart filled with longing for her python, whose sense of direction was sometimes stronger than magic.

Thinking this, she walked through the seemingly identical trees.

The dark leaves silently brushed against each other in the white mist, not even making a sound.

Aside from the sound of her footsteps on the leaves and the distant hooting of an owl, there was almost no sound to be heard.

Hilda hoped she could return to the Kingdom soon. She wanted a steaming cup of hot tea, and she was still somewhat worried about Debbie, who was left with the hero.

After all, Debbie was just a child and very well protected. It would be too difficult for her to discern others’ true intentions behind their friendliness.

“Sister Hilda…”

She suddenly stopped, wondering if the faint sound she heard was a hallucination.

She had just made it halfway through the forest, and the mist was so thick that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The witch tilted her head to listen carefully but didn’t hear the sound that had just come. She breathed a sigh of relief, guessing it was just her nerves being too tense.

She continued walking in the direction indicated by the light.

What could happen after only half a day?

Besides, she had specifically invited her dear friend—

Hilda’s hands suddenly stiffened. This time, she heard a sound coming from behind her again. The forest at this moment was like a maze, and the specific direction was unclear. She only heard a hoarse but serious voice, yet it was alarmingly familiar.

Listening carefully, the owner of the voice seemed to be searching for something, calling out “Debbie, Debbie.”

Then another person’s voice sounded.

It was the hero. Hilda’s heart sank.

He sounded very guilty, his voice even a little ethereal: “I just wanted to take her out to buy some candy. No matter how I think about it, nothing should have gone wrong. I would rather sacrifice myself for the princess than let her be harmed.”

“If I hadn’t immediately disarmed the trap you set,” the old woman said, her voice filled with undisguised accusation, “not even a trace of the princess would have been left. You were so careless that you didn’t even look at the cases of those who went missing? Someone like you is simply not worthy of pity.”

It was still the hero’s voice. He was silent for a moment: “…You weren’t like this before.”

“The most important thing now is to find Debbie.” The other party didn’t intend to continue his slightly melancholic words.

Her hurried but resolute footsteps seemed to be right by Hilda’s ear. Hilda knew this person very well, so much so that she could almost see that wrinkled face and the scattered white hair. She was the helper the witch had invited. She was now the battle-hardened captain of the Holy Knights, awarded the Order of Merit, First Class.

…And also, twenty years ago, the golden-haired female knight Hilda would drag to tea every day.

She was the witch’s close friend.

Although with age, as a human, she had indeed grown old. But their friendship had not faded.

Since she was here, then Debbie—

Hilda suddenly turned back. She didn’t hesitate for a second and ran in that direction, but no matter what, she couldn’t see any figures. The surrounding forest once again fell silent.

The witch knew that something was wrong.

The mist was too thick. The mist was now flowing thickly through the forest, and the current situation was definitely not the Archmage’s doing.

Hilda stroked the goosebumps on her arms, quickly thinking. This was not a sudden action. They all knew that the princess had been targeted for a long time, but it wasn’t until the hero took Debbie out of the palace that they found an opportunity.

What to do?

In a flash of lightning, Hilda suddenly thought of a crucial clue.

Her python!

The python had not followed the female knight and the captain. She had not heard the sound of the enormous creature crushing leaves as it slid.

But Debbie’s voice had just been faint.

Thinking about it now, there seemed to be a rustling sound in the background.

Hilda had instructed it like this before leaving: You must protect the princess, stay close behind her.

Was there a possibility that it was still faithfully performing its duty as a guardian at this moment?

Thinking of this, Hilda immediately pulled a small brass snake flute from her bosom. The snake flute sounded with a whimper. This melody was most familiar to the pet that had accompanied her since childhood.

Indeed, in some direction within the mist, faint to the point of being almost inaudible, there was suddenly a rhythmic “tap-tap” sound.

This was the python making a sound with its tail, responding.

Hilda blew the snake flute while silently hoping in her heart. She gave up on leaving the forest and instead walked in that direction again, deeper into the forest.

She prayed, walking quickly through the misty forest.

She didn’t know how long she walked. It seemed like a very short time, but for Hilda, it felt like years. The witch suddenly found that the mist had thinned considerably, enough for her to vaguely see a figure in the distance.

She clenched her fingers.

Hilda’s relief lasted until she saw what the shadow actually was.

Actually, if she just got a little closer, she could see his black wings.

It was the Demon King Kriesmeier.

He was pinching the black cat’s neck, holding it in front of him. His dark golden eyes were colder than ice. The black cat’s amber eyes flickered, its four paws instinctively struggling.

But this was insignificant in the face of the Demon King’s cold fury.

“Roland Xavier.” She heard the Demon King’s chilling voice. “Do you think you can fool me so easily?”

She… had circled back to where she started.

Hilda couldn’t bother with that anymore.

The scene in front of her, although somewhat violent, she had seen many times anyway. Perhaps this was the Grand Master’s romantic quirk.

She took a few quick steps until she exposed herself to the Demon King’s vision. Kriesmeier’s gaze did not fall on her, just as he had dismissed the black cat from his sight moments ago.

But anyway, she wasn’t trying to talk to the Demon King.

“Master,” she took a deep breath and said to the black cat, who was in distress, “I’m sorry to interrupt you and the Demon King. But right now, it’s truly urgent, and we need your help.”