The Demon Princess Was Defeated and Captured? Sorry, That’s the Role I’m Playing Chapter 216

Chapter 216

But don’t forget, she was still a Hero—the strongest from Aurus.

“Let’s go.” Xiarette temporarily suppressed the radiance of the Holy Sword, exhaled a light breath, and her steps grew more resolute. “Let’s carry out what Sheffy entrusted to us. No more wasting ti.”

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45. The Rebels

Snow blanketed the mountains. Beneath the pitch-black sky, wind and snow enshrouded the narrow pass between the valleys. The wind howled fiercely, blowing across the ground full of torches, their flas flickering on the verge of extinction.

Clutching a cigarette that had barely been lit, a man with weathered features and brown hair, dressed in a thick winter coat of fur, sat atop a precarious boulder on a steep cliff, watching the massive army procession winding through the gorge.

His eyes took in the grand sight, overlooking the military might.

Yet in his heart, there rose not even a trace of heroic passion or ambition.

The man brought the cigarette to his lips. Imdiately after, a sigh mixed with the frosty breath of the Northern Region rged into the curling smoke drifting against the falling snowflakes, carrying away his heavy, muddled thoughts.

With the cigarette tucked between his fingers, the demon man slowly lifted his head. Only then could one see the battle scar etched on his face by the harsh winds and snow of the north—a badge of honor earned in war.

His gaze drifted sideways.

At the edge of the cliff stood another man, younger in comparison, one hand resting on his hip as he looked down upon the troops. He wore noble robes layered with light armor, and his shoulder bore a solid gold dal engraved with the number “3,” signifying his command over the Demon King’s Army Third Division.

This man was nad Murof Yarin, a noble dispatched from the demon capital Campeno a year ago to temporarily replace the long-absent First Princess Ailellek as acting commander of the Third Division.

And the brown-haired man with the cigarette was Brianor, the division’s chief strategist. He had served in the Third Division for over fifty years, stationed on the borderlands for as long.

Brianor had never seen such a large-scale military movent in all his decades of guarding this snow-covered land.

He spat out the cigarette remnants and touched the scar on his face. His thick, powerful arms rested on thighs sturdier than stone columns. Turning his head, he frowned at the noble figure in lavish robes standing at the cliff’s edge, seemingly savoring the sight of the advancing forces.

“Murof.” The man’s gravelly voice carried through the snowstorm, laced with the chill of the wind. “Maybe I don’t have much say anymore, but I’ll still give you this one piece of advice—if you keep marching forward...”

Brianor narrowed his eyes, squinting through the flurry of snow at the far end of the army’s march.

Beyond the gorge, past the oppressive sky, was the wide-open border of the Northern Region—where it t the territory of the higher races.

“If you go any farther... there’ll be no turning back.”

“Hm? Senior Brianor, did you say sothing? The wind’s too strong—I didn’t catch that.”

“I said—damn it!”

A flash of dark light flew straight at him. Brianor dodged on instinct alone, twisting his head just in ti. A neat chunk of his dry, brown hair was cleanly sliced off.

Hearing a creaking sound, Brianor half-turned to look at the boulder he had just been sitting on.

The stone had been sliced perfectly in two. A fine layer of snow had already settled on the clean cut.

Had Brianor hesitated even a mont, what would’ve been split cleanly wouldn’t have just been the rock.

At that mont, Murof finally turned around.

His short black hair partially veiled a dark-colored gaze behind a faint smile. As he turned around, his movents were courteous and composed, as if he were standing in a noble's ballroom rather than in this harsh, frigid land of extre cold.

“Senior Brianor, since I still call you ‘senior,’ shouldn’t you know how to restrain yourself a little?”

“Tch...” Even though Brianor was boiling with rage, he had no choice but to swallow back the curse that had reached his throat. “Damn it... Hey! I won’t say anything else, but kid—when we reach the Northern Region, the promise you made, will you keep it?!”

“Of course. Once the Third Division rges with the higher races, Senior Brianor can ask the soldiers if any of them want to return to the holand with you. If there are, you can take them all back. Naturally, that’s after they’ve seen the Origin of the World~.”

“I don’t know what the hell this ‘Origin of the World’ is—it’s all bullshit. I just want to know—can I believe a single word of what you’re saying?”

“Ha, believe it or not, does it really matter? Do you even have the luxury of a choice, Senior?”

“......”

Indeed...

Brianor didn’t have a choice.

It really felt like sothing was deeply wrong.

This newly appointed division commander, transferred from the capital, had once been diligent and steady, grounded and dependable. But in just the past few months, sothing had changed. He had beco like an entirely different person—his moods erratic, his actions arbitrary, his punishnts and rewards given without rhy or reason.

And if that were all, it would have been tolerable...

What Brianor never expected was that this man had actually invoked his authority as commander of the division to override the Demon King’s orders, directly issuing a command for the division to march toward the Northern Region border.

Unilaterally mobilizing a garrison stationed at the border—this was outright rebellion!

Brianor had tried every ans possible to convey this to the soldiers—hinting at desertion or even turning their weapons on this treasonous traitor who had defied royal authority.

Yet the soldiers who had served at his side for decades seed bewitched. Their minds were consud by a single thought: obeying orders. They didn’t even consider it rebellion—they believed they were achieving military glory.

Glory, his ass!

Brianor didn’t know what Murof had told them. But clearly, his own voice had inexplicably lost all weight within the army.

It shouldn’t have turned out like this, and yet here it was.

Of course, he could leave on his own.

But he still hoped—if he could save just one more brother, he would. Once they reached the border of the Northern Region, he could try to negotiate with the higher races himself. At the very least, he wanted those who still had a shred of conscience to return to their holand—he couldn’t let them follow this traitor to be buried in the endless icy plains.

Because...

“Murof, you must’ve heard the news from Campeno by now, haven’t you? The First Princess and Second Princess have personally taken command to suppress the rebel army. They’ve already led the Second Division into battle—there’s still ti to pull back. Once Her Highness truly becos enraged... there will be no chance for redemption. You want to get yourself killed, that’s your problem—but are you really going to drag all these brothers to die with you?!”

“Hahahahaha! When did 【Brianor of the Ice Plains】 beco so timid and afraid of things!” Murof burst into laughter. “I say, Senior... you don’t understand. You don’t understand anything at all. The Princesses coming personally to suppress us—isn’t that perfect? If they didn’t co, that would be what really troubled !”

“What did you say...?”

“Because, Senior, just think about it. If I conveniently crushed the Second Division along the way, then when we reach the Northern Region and et the higher races, wouldn’t negotiations be much smoother?” He laughed wildly. “Bringing the heads of two princesses as gifts—what could possibly be a more perfect token of surrender? This is simply heaven assisting , heaven giving this opportunity!”

“Kid... you’re completely insane...”

“Ha!”

Manic laughter echoed across the mountain peaks.

The heavy, snow-crushing footsteps of the marching army drowned out all that madness.

Murof’s laughter sounded like he was celebrating his victory in advance.

And it also sounded like a bottomless mockery of everything Brianor had just said.

The laughter gradually faded. In Murof’s chaotic, night-dark eyes, the pitch-black firmant was reflected. The Brianor before him—who had once been able to match him evenly in strength—now seed to possess no worth that deserved to be acknowledged.

“Ha... you say I’m insane?” Murof murmured. “Senior Brianor, is it possible that it’s just that you can’t see it? But I can see it... a brand-new world. True power. As long as one possesses this strength... there’s no need to submit to anyone! Ahh... thank you, thank you for letting witness the vastness of the world. It turns out that everything I had seen in my life before today was so unbearably small...!”

Here it went again.

Murof let out a heavy sigh, shook his head, and said nothing, silently lighting another cigarette, as if that might let him hear less of this mad rambling.

“Do you know? The power bestowed upon by ‘that great being’... is enough to overturn all of this!” he continued excitedly. “Senior, you surely wouldn’t understand! After all, I am the one chosen by ‘that great being.’ It’s a world only I can see! You’re all far too weak... so weak that you’re not even worthy of being ants.”

Murof placed his white-gloved hand against his chest and perford a noble salute toward the starlit, moonlit sky.

—And at the end of that white glove, on the back of his hand, so kind of glow shimred faintly with an eerie golden light.

Brianor had heard the phrase “that great being” from his mouth more than once already.

Indeed, Murof’s recent surge in strength and his drastic change in temperant were very likely connected to the “that great being” he kept ntioning.

Brianor had tried many tis to ask who exactly this person was, but Murof would always dodge the topic like a madman.

As if he had been warned—

that he must not speak of it.

A cigarette was soon finished. Brianor tossed the butt into the snow and, as if having given up, sat back down on the broken stone.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’ve been through,” he said hoarsely, “but you don’t seriously think that just because you’ve gained a bit of power, you’re now a match for the two Princesses, do you? They’re royalty. Do you really have no idea how powerful royal bloodlines truly are?”

“Ahh... Senior, do you still rember how the First Princess Ailellek was defeated by ?”

“It was just a sealing spell.” Brianor, whose temper had been running hot lately, gave a bitter laugh. All he could do was vent with words. “It’s not like I didn’t see it—when the Princess ca to subdue you, you didn’t dare face her head-on and used so strange magic to trap her instead. Hmph, nothing more than so shady trick soone lent you, and once it runs out, that’s it, right? You think I don’t know what you're really capable of?”

“Oh...? Are you trying to provoke , Senior...?”

“If you think so, then sure, I am.”

Brianor didn’t care. After serving as the division’s chief strategist for so many years, he certainly had so ability to think things through.

If Murof really wanted to kill him, he would’ve done it long ago. The fact that he was still alive ant that Murof still had so use for him. So even if he ran his mouth a bit, he wasn’t going to be killed just yet.

Didn’t the First Princess once say sothing rather famous?

—As long as you’ve got a mouth and you can speak, there’s no reason to keep silent.

But the next second...

“Hmm?!”

To Brianor’s shock, in just the blink of an eye, Murof had vanished from right in front of him.

Just the instant he sensed sothing was wrong.

He didn’t even have ti to turn and look—

Murof’s voice was already sounding behind him.

“That’s what I’m saying, Senior... you’re just too short-sighted.”

“What...?”

Brianor broke out in a cold sweat, forcing himself to stay calm as he slowly turned around, trying to widen the distance.

This guy—was he really that fast?

Even with the highest-tier Teleportation, there should at least be so visible motion to prepare the spell.

But this—he had silently appeared behind him without a sound.

Even for a seasoned general with extensive combat experience, cold sweat now poured from his back.

Yet Murof didn’t seem to have any intention of attacking him.

This noble from the capital Campeno simply brushed the dust off the Third Division Commander’s badge on his shoulder, keeping a calm smile as he spread his hands and shrugged, speaking with a casual, unconcerned tone.

“What was it Senior just said again? Oh, right... you said I didn’t dare face Her Highness the First Princess head-on? Hahaha, you’ve misunderstood , Senior. If it weren’t for the need to hurry with the army’s march, what reason would I have to not just trap Her Highness using the most ti-efficient thod? Hmm... let think. If we did fight head-on, it might delay us a bit, but with my current power... I should be able to defeat Her Highness within an hour? Her immortality is just a bit troubleso, that’s all. Well~ so even an hour would be too long—what if it ssed up the bigger plan? Don’t worry, don’t worry! Once we finish things on this end, I’ll go back and kill her. Then you won’t have anything to say, right~?”

“Arrogance... always ends in ruin.”

“Then let’s find out.”

The strange glow beneath the white glove gradually faded.

—But from the far end of the narrow path where the army was advancing, a towering blaze suddenly erupted, accompanied by the sound of war drums!

The marching soldiers below instantly and instinctively fell silent, standing by for orders.

Murof gave Brianor a pat on the shoulder, stepped right over the discarded cigarette butt on the ground, and laughed recklessly.

“The Second Division is fast, huh? They’ve already made it ahead of us? Good—very good. That must an Her Highness, the 【Princess of Calamity】, is here too, right?”

46. Mobilization

“Ahem...! Anyway, that’s the plan. The key here is, um... is to maintain marching speed and strike with surprise. We have to reach the front of the canyon before the enemy gets there—cut them off! And then... and then... Tch—Belith, say sothing, will you? I’m not good at this kind of thing...!”

Ti rewinds to a little earlier.

Sheffy stood atop a hastily constructed snowy platform, whispering a plea for help to Belith beside her.

Hearing this adorable, half-pleading tone in Sheffy’s voice, Belith temporarily tucked away the awe in her expression, clasped her hands in front of her, and whispered back in kind.

“No, Royal Sister. I don’t think there’s any need to say anything else.”

“Huh? Don’t say anything? Are you serious? This is a military mobilization speech! Look at you—how are you even acting like a proper Fifth Division Commander?”

“Do you even have the right to lecture , Royal Sister...? Ugh... honestly, I don’t think there’s any point in saying more. Haven’t you noticed? These soldiers don’t care what you’re saying.”

“So they all look down on , huh?”