A Promise on the Journey Home
916 Words
"Thank you." "We." "We join."
The once-wild fairies declared their allegiance, and under the guidance of the fairy leaders of the Demon Lord's domain, they began to familiarize themselves with the land and their new roles.
Though they were required to work, the conditions here were far better. No wages were given, but in exchange, they received safety, comfortable accommodations, reasonable work hours, rest periods, and even delicious meals.
It was as if they had stepped from hell into paradise.
According to these wild fairies, the tiger-striped giant bees originally resided further south in the forest. Yet, for some unknown reason, they had chosen to migrate north—toward the Demon Lord’s castle.
"Did something happen over there?"
Ira murmured to himself.
"Perhaps nothing at all," the Black Flame Headless Knight replied. Her voice, melodic despite emerging from the void where her head should be, continued, "Giant bees naturally migrate. Perhaps the flowers in their original home have dwindled."
That seemed plausible.
Ira, who lacked expertise in giant bee behavior, nodded in agreement.
"Ira," the knight spoke again as they rode back toward the Demon Lord’s domain, "this battle—zero casualties among the Headless Knights."
At this, Shirina and Satania, riding beside them, turned their heads.
"The same for the insect soldiers," the Insectoid leader added, his glossy, black eyes observing Ira with respect.
"Their exoskeletons provided natural protection against the bees' stingers, and the knights’ armor made them nearly untouchable. No casualties were expected."
Ira spoke nonchalantly. This battle had been entirely under his command. Neither the Insectoid leader nor the Black Flame Headless Knight objected; in fact, they were more than willing to follow his orders.
Still, battles usually came with losses. The bees’ sharp wings could have severed an Insectoid’s body in an instant, and though the knights' armor was sturdy, the souls flickering atop their shoulders were fragile.
Under normal circumstances, some level of sacrifice would have been expected. But in this battle—a campaign of total annihilation—not a single life was lost, nor a single injury sustained.
Advancing methodically, striking decisively.
Each step forward cut into the enemy with surgical precision, allowing no chance for retreat.
This was the command of the Demon Lord’s Chief Administrator.
A soft hum interrupted the silence.
Satania glanced toward the fairies, expecting to find the source of the song among them. But instead, to her astonishment, the humming came from Ira himself.
She blinked.
This man—the same one who spoke with such seriousness, sighed in quiet frustration, nodded in reluctant agreement, and killed with cold efficiency—was now lightly bobbing his head, cheerfully humming a tune.
The other commanders were just as shocked.
"Ira," Shirina finally asked, "you seem to be in a good mood?"
Ira paused his humming, then, with a smile, replied, "Yes. This was the most exhilarating battle I’ve ever fought."
The weight that had burdened him was now lifted.
"You all entrusted me with command. Your individual strength was undeniable. I didn't have to explain my strategies to hesitant allies, nor did I need to report back to the Empire before and after every engagement."
Ira continued, his tone light yet sincere. "I could fight freely. I didn't have to deliberately share credit to avoid resentment. I didn't have to stop my own men from pillaging and dishonoring the Empire’s name. And I didn’t have to worry about achieving too much—about becoming ‘unrewardable.’"
The listening commanders were stunned.
Until now, they had only seen Ira as a master strategist on the battlefield, never considering the constraints he once faced.
And here he was—genuinely happy, simply because he had fought a battle unchained.
It made them wonder—was Ira more charming than they had realized, or had the Empire truly been that suffocating?
They had come to know Ira as a man of strict principles, one who upheld rules they struggled to understand.
Yet now, they were beginning to grasp why.
Ira exhaled, reaching his conclusion. "I’ve realized something. This land—the Demon Lord’s domain—is where I belong. And so, I’ve decided... I will no longer hold back. Is that acceptable?"
A heavy silence followed.
Even the fairies quieted, sensing the significance of this moment.
This single statement—spoken here, now—might very well be recorded in history.
And they were all witnesses.
"Ira," Shirina spoke first. "You’ve made up your mind?"
"I have," Ira affirmed. "From now on, I won’t ask for permission. I won’t seek approval. I will take the helm of this ship called the Demon Lord’s domain, and I will drive it toward a future beyond your imagination."
Then, as if half-serious, half in jest, he added, "And if one day, you feel that I—or this land—has lost control... don’t say I didn’t warn you."
The commanders hesitated.
For the first time, they instinctively sought the Demon Lord’s response.
Satania smiled.
"Go ahead, Ira," she declared. "I will never regret this decision."
As she gazed at him—this man, who had slain her father—his silhouette overlapped with another.
Not the man who had taken her past, but the man who might shape her future.
Her tail swayed, tapping against the knight’s horse with rhythmic excitement.
She laughed softly, then whispered a promise:
"The Demon Lord’s domain has lost much already. If there’s anything left to lose... it’s only the chains that bound us."
- Writer
