Chapter 16

  A campfire burned in a cave, green moss clinging to damp walls, reflecting the hot orange flames. A traveler in a brown cloak was boiling water.

  Casca Saint-Maximin.

  Year 2 of living in Diablo.

  The island had wild rabbits… their taste bitter enough to make most spit them out. Not Casca, a seasoned soldier who ate to survive.

  For two years, they’d been her staple, alternated with fish caught in nets outside.

  After eating, Casca lifted the boiled-water cup and drank—a bitter brew of forest herbs, boiled to extract nutrients.

  She stepped out of the cave, revealing a sprawling white sand beach stretching beyond sight, framed by emerald seas and giant rocky islands with circling birds.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, mock-curtsying in bare feet, greeting the figure checking on her—the only one tasked with watching someone like Maximin: Crown Prince Fury.

  “Impressive you’ve kept this up for two years.”

  “I’m more impressed you convinced the King to let me stay this long, General.”

  Casca strolled over, punching Fury’s armored shell, chatting like friends.

  “Planning to stay for good, huh?”

  “Diablo’s the most bountiful place I’ve seen, despite the pesky beasts.”

  Casca dragged her feet through the sand, arms wide, embracing the breeze.

  “Worth it for a place like this!”

  “Talking like it’s your home.”

  “Fury… you’re my only friend here.”

  Casca gazed at the horizon. Fury stepped beside her.

  “I don’t know how to repay you… for saving me in the throne room that day.”

  She sat on the sand.

  Then, suddenly…

  Grab!

  She hugged Fury’s leg like a koala.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Your shell’s hard as steel.”

  “Then don’t rub your face on it.”

  “Probably not good for a pillow.”

  “It’s not for pillowing.”

  “What’s going on here?!”

  !

  A third voice—someone who’d followed Fury unnoticed, moving with writhing tentacles. One of the prince’s four elite guards.

  “Freya!”

  “What’s this, Your Majesty?! Why’re you so chummy with her?!”

  Casca and Fury sprang apart, but too late for the onlooker who saw everything.

  “What’s with that attitude?! Isn’t she the enemy?!”

  “She’s not the enemy, Zeedee. You’ve got it wrong.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got it wro—”

  Before Casca could finish or raise a hand, she was blasted across the beach like a Hail Mary football, crashing into the sea with one strike from Freya.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Freya! What are you doing?!”

  “No more talking!!!”

  She pointed at the prince—a privilege only Freya could afford without losing her head.

  “I saw everything! I knew something was off! Always coming to see this filthy human! Lately, you’ve ignored me! You’re under her dark spell! It’s clear she’s plotting against you!”

  “What nonsense, Freya! I’m not under any spell!”

  “Then explain that!”

  Prince Fury froze… enough for Freya, voice trembling.

  She shook her jellyfish head, dozens of tentacles digging into the ground with rage.

  “No… No way… I can’t accept this… I won’t—”

  Freya’s body flew back into the forest before Fury’s eyes, struck by a massive force from the sea.

  A normal human would’ve died from Freya’s blow, but not Casca, who emerged with mere scratches.

  A golden aura enveloped her, the same holy magic she’d used against Fury. Her eyes glowed gold, adjusting her clothes, neck cracking loudly.

  “Fury, stay put. I’ll handle this.”

  “Casca, you can’t kill her!”

  “Not killing her. But look… will she listen in this state?”

  “Casc—”

  Before he could finish, Casca vanished in a flash of speed.

  In the forest behind the beach, coconut trees snapped from Freya’s impact, her body landing mid-forest…

  Freya rose, her ten tentacles thrashing aggressively. Then Casca’s golden form charged, striking again, sending both hurtling, destroying everything in their path.

  Explosions echoed 300 meters—mana blasts, thunderclaps, flying coconut trees—felt by other Diablos as the ground quaked.

  “Tch…”

  “Damn it…”

  The aftermath landed before the King’s throne in Diablo’s kingdom.

  Freya and Casca, battered and dirt-smeared, looked like kids separated by a teacher after a fight. Fury held them by the scruff, one in each hand, like puppies.

  “What’s this about?”

  “…”

  Casca and Fury exchanged glances after the King’s question. Freya, dangling, turned to her beloved.

  “Speak! Tell the King what’s going on between you and her!”

  With no way out, the truth came.

  That day, the private bond between the prince and Casca was laid bare before the throne.

  No surprise, it shocked the demons senseless—especially the Demon Queen, who fainted.

  “I-I can explain, Your Majesty!”

  Casca Saint-Maximin knelt, begging for a chance, sweating profusely.

  Fury, shell too hard to sweat, was just as rattled inside.

  No one believed it was real. No one believed their feelings were genuine.

  Casca was locked in a dungeon for months. Fury was examined repeatedly to check for human mind-control magic.

  From Diablo’s perspective, if their deadliest weapon—Fury—turned against the kingdom, it could spell its end.

  Through Casca’s endurance and Fury’s sincerity, he confessed his feelings fully before the throne.

  He didn’t know when or how it happened, but talking with Casca felt like everything clicked. No one on the island had made him feel this way. He explained what she meant to him over time… proving his words were true.

  As the old saying goes: the righteous are protected.

  Their bond was real, so no matter how hard Diablo searched for flaws, they found none.

  Fury wasn’t enchanted.

  Casca had no intent to destroy the kingdom.

  (Sfx: Dungeon gate clank.)

  After a year proving her innocence beyond doubt…

  Casca Saint-Maximin was freed.

  Her first act? Running to Fury, embracing him with desperate longing, despite the King and glaring guards—especially Freya.

  Casca spent years convincing everyone she sought no gain from him.

  An ordinary woman couldn’t withstand such pressure. But Casca Saint-Maximin? That’s another story.

  Her strength—her “sufficient condition”—silenced dissent. She was the only human to rival Fury, proven in the Salavan fields.

  That strength swayed the King. If Casca joined Diablo… wouldn’t they have the world’s mightiest weapon?

  Hearts slowly opened, partly thanks to Casca’s psychology. Living among demons, she learned how to approach them…

  Through sheer dominance.

  Here, strength was everything.

  Anyone unhappy? Fight Casca. Settle it with fists, feet, knees, elbows. Can’t beat her? Stay quiet.

  And that day came…

  When Freya challenged Casca at her cave.

  “Hey! Come out, you thieving cat!”

  “What? What’s your deal?”

  “Give me back my prince!”

  “Then take him!”

  “I’ve hated your face since day one! You! You! I was jailed because of you!! Skank!”

  Reason #1: Freya caused Casca’s months in a filthy dungeon.

  The fight before the King, in the demons’ coliseum… all, including elite guards, witnessed…

  “…I… I’m still… standing…”

  The jellyfish demon collapsed face-down, defeated in a razor-thin loss. On the other side, Casca leaned on her holy sword like a crutch to stand.

  Both were wrecked, but Freya was worse—unable to rise.

  Casca was the victor.

  She raised her sword skyward, pointing at the watching demons.

  “Listen up, all you Diablos!!!”

  With her last strength, she bellowed across the coliseum.

  “Fury is mine, and I am his! Anyone who doubts, step up!”

  Silence fell. No one dared.

  Even Freya couldn’t win. Who could?

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  Fury appeared. By combat rules, the loser could die without fault, and no one could interfere until death or surrender.

  He approached Freya, lifting her into his arms.

  “Freya… what a shame…”

  He’d warned her not to fight Casca. She didn’t listen. This was the result.

  By rule, Freya lost her claim to the prince.

  Her trembling jellyfish tentacles pressed against Fury’s face.

  Her mushroom-like head turned to him, voice shaking.

  “Your Majesty…”

  Beside Fury, Casca stood, smirking, thumb dragging across her throat, laughing wickedly.

  “Hic!”

  Freya’s tears broke.

  “Nooo!!! No way!!! It’s not fair!!! Not fair!!! Uwaaah!!!”

  “Hey, what?!”

  Grab!

  All ten tentacles, even the broken ones, wrapped tightly around Fury, refusing to let go.

  “No, no!!! I won’t be abandoned!!! Your Majesty!!! I don’t accept this!!! Not fair!!! Uwaaah!!!”

  “What?! What’s that?!”

  Casca dropped her sword, rushing to pry the jellyfish off Fury.

  “You sore loser!!! What’re you doing?!”

  “I won’t let go!!! UWAHH!”

  “Have you no dignity?!”

  “Dignity doesn’t feed me!!!”

  “What?!”

  Reason #2: Refusing the verdict, a sore loser itching for a fight.