"Whoa, look at the size of this crowd."
I peered past the wings of the stage. A sea of people waited restlessly for the show to begin.
"The Symphony Hall's reserved seats sold out in the blink of an eye, I hear," Sylpha said.
Ren of the Poison Moth added, "They added ten thousand standing-room tickets at the last minute, and those were snatched up instantly too. Man, getting to hear a performance like this from so close is a real perk of the job."
"Well, no matter the circumstances, I won't let a single note of Master Lloyd’s singing escape me," Sylpha declared.
While the two of them were eagerly anticipating the music, my other maid, Connie, wore a troubled expression.
"Is something wrong, Connie?"
"…Well, it’s not really me, it’s Beal." Connie placed a hand on her chest and closed her eyes as if listening to an internal dialogue. "He hasn't come out at all since earlier, but he’s acting strange today. My heart hasn't stopped racing since we got here. It feels like Beal is… radiating bloodlust?"
"Now that you mention it, he did seem to despise the Holy King."
When I’d tried to ask him about it before, he’d just gotten sulky and retreated. I wondered if he was planning to launch a sudden attack on the audience. It would be a disaster if he went on a rampage here.
...Actually, I really did want to see a fight between the Holy King and the Demon King Beal. I meant to stop him, of course. But depending on how I stopped him, I might still get to see some of it. Hmm, this was getting interesting. I felt a surge of excitement.
"I wonder what he's grinning about..." Ren of the Poison Moth whispered.
"Master Lloyd, it’s almost time," Sylpha announced.
"Right. Time to go."
Our turn had arrived. Regardless of my curiosity, I had to make the performance a success first.
The moment we stepped onto the stage, a roar of cheers washed over us. It was a massive crowd. I realized a bit late that I might end up standing out... Well, everyone was here for Saria and Isha anyway. I doubted anyone would pay much attention to me.
"Lloyd, don't space out," Saria-neesan chided.
"Right, sorry."
"Here we go. Three, two, one—"
The sound bloomed.
Saria’s playing, Isha’s singing, and my magically copied voice flowed through the hall. From the very first note, people in the audience were reduced to tears; many were sobbing.
"Whoa, giving their best performance right here and now... and the quality is improving with every passing second! It’s like Master Lloyd’s voice is being pulled higher by the two of them! ...Man, even I’m starting to cry," Grimo sniffled.
"Hngh... there are no words, only tears... This performance is otherworldly, divine... I can't stop, I can't stop crying!" Jiriel wailed.
My familiars were clearly moved. Ren of the Poison Moth wiped away stray tears, and Sylpha was so overwhelmed she’d actually passed out while still standing.
However, the Holy King’s party remained motionless.
Their hoods hid their eyes, but they seemed entirely indifferent. Saria and Isha noticed this as well. Irritated, they dialed up the intensity even further, as if challenging them. What a fierce, beautiful melody. Even keeping up the copy was getting difficult.
Good grief, now I was having to work hard too. If I focus too much on my Control Magic, I lose track of what’s happening around me.
Even then, the guards remained expressionless. One even seemed to be stifling a bored yawn.
I couldn't see their faces, but that utter lack of presence was familiar... Where had I seen that before?
As I pondered this, I felt a powerful surge of mana from the wings. It was Connie—or rather, Beal inside her.
A malevolent visage formed from the black mana swirling around Connie, beginning to envelop the surroundings.
This was the special Barrier used by the Four Heavenly Kings of the Demon Army. It created a pocket of space on the reverse side of reality, an enclosed area that no one could perceive unless the caster permitted it.
Was Beal really going to fight the Holy King here?
I almost moved to stop him, but my desire to see them clash won out. My hands froze. Argh, I hated my own curiosity.
"Why are you smiling like that, Master Lloyd?!"
"The Barrier is closing!"
With a sharp crack, the Barrier deployed.
Well, I’d technically intended to stop him. At least mentally.
Within the isolated space, only Beal, the Holy King’s group, and I—having forced my way in during the Barrier's formation—remained.
"Hmph. Why did you come inside, Lloyd? I went through the trouble of excising this space so we wouldn't be disturbed," the black-clad Connie—Beal—growled.
"Well, I was curious."
"Are you concerned for me? ...Hmph. Don't underestimate me. You know my power well enough." Beal looked a bit sheepish, evidently thinking I was worried about him.
"Actually, I think Master Lloyd is just interested in the fight..." Grimo muttered.
"And more specifically, he's interested in the Holy King..." Jiriel added.
The familiars were whispering, but something else caught my attention.
"Oh my. Aren't you the boy from earlier? What a coincidence."
The voice came from the Guard standing beside the Holy King. As he pulled back his hood, I saw the face of the Youth I’d met in the restroom.
Beal looked up at him and let out a dark chuckle.
"...I see. So you're the Current Holy King."
It finally clicked. He was the Holy King; the person sitting down was just a body double.
"Is the one under that white hood a Magic Puppet?" I asked.
"Something like that. I don't have many friends, you see." With a snap of his fingers, the figure inside the white robes vanished, and the fabric fell limply to the floor. "The Seventh Prince of Saloom, Lloyd di Saloom. I knew it was you. This really is a drag. My heart just isn't in this at all."
Even now, the Holy King smiled as he spoke to me. Beal, ignored, was visibly seething.
"Heh... I don't know which generation you are, but that airheaded personality hasn't changed a bit!"
The mana radiating from Beal was intense enough to make the air vibrate. He was out for blood. Yet, faced with that pressure, the Holy King simply rested a hand on his chin and tilted his head.
"Umm, who are you again? I'm sure I wouldn't forget a cute glasses-wearing girl like you... Oh, were we childhood friends? Or are you a fan?"
"Are you saying you only see the Vessel? You've got a talent for provocation...!" Beal roared, his fury peaking. "Fine! I'll tell you so you have something to talk about in the afterlife! I am Beal! The one known as the Demon King who once fought your ancestors!"
"The Demon King—" The Holy King's eyes widened for a moment. "Oh, you were the one? I thought for sure it was Lloyd-kun..."
"It's not!" I barked.
I nearly fell over. I couldn't believe he’d mistaken me for the Demon King.
"Well, it makes sense. Master Lloyd does give off far more ominous mana sometimes," Grimo noted.
"And since Beal was hiding inside Connie, Master Lloyd was the more obvious candidate," Jiriel agreed.
My familiars were making valid points, but mistaking a magic-loving kid like me for a Demon King was a bit much.
"I see... Ah, so that's it," the Holy King murmured.
His eyes narrowed, and a cold, detached aura—completely different from his previous demeanor—settled over him.
"I see, so you're the Demon King. I heard you'd exhausted your power and vanished during the war with the previous Holy King."
"That was a fluke! This time, I'll be the one who wins!"
To Beal's confident declaration, the Holy King replied calmly, "I'm glad. This saves me the trouble. My reason for coming here was to neutralize you, after all."
I’d wondered why the Holy King, who rarely left his seat of power, would travel all the way to Saloom. Given the timing, it was obvious he’d come to deal with the resurrected Demon King. The Church was an organization dedicated to exorcising evil; there was no way they’d ignore Beal's return.
Beal grinned wickedly, relishing the challenge.
"Then come! Don't think I'm the same as I was back then. I’ve spent ages accumulating power, waiting for the chance to take my revenge. I won't fail again. I'll grind you to dust!"
With a roar, Beal’s body surged with black light. Immediately, countless pillars of black energy rained from the sky. It was his Demon King's Light Prison Pillar—a concentrated mana strike.
"Whoa, he's firing off something that would take one of Master Lloyd's concentrated barriers to block!" Grimo shouted.
"Wait, Master Lloyd! He is the Holy King! We shouldn't let him be killed, right...?" Jiriel worried.
"Hahaha! Hahahaha!" Beal laughed.
Well, Beal isn't the type to listen to reason once he starts.
But it was strange. Despite the relentless bombardment, the Holy King looked perfectly fine through the light. In fact, was he even blocking? It looked like the attacks were simply avoiding him.
"Ah—"
In the center of the chaos, the Holy King spoke.
"I hate to break it to you while you're so excited, but as a pacifist, I only have one thing to say. —I won't fight."
In that instant, power flooded the area.
"Guh... agh...!?"
A shockwave rippled outward. A bizarre pressure brought Beal’s movements to a screeching halt just as he was about to strike.
"Nu... ggggh...! What is this power?! It’s several times stronger than the previous Holy King! But... we haven't been napping all these years! Hrrraaaaaah!"
Veins bulged on Beal’s forehead as he struggled to move, but he couldn't even twitch a finger.
"Wh-What’s going on? The Holy King just muttered something and Beal stopped dead!?" Grimo yelled.
"To freeze the Demon King in place... this is unnatural. What is happening?" Jiriel asked.
It was a strange power. Feeling the fluctuations coming from the Holy King made my skin crawl. It felt like a mental-type ability, but it definitely wasn't standard magic.
"Heh. To take my 'Voice' head-on and still have the will to fight... impressive."
His voice. Yes. It was as if his words were carrying mana directly.
...No, that wasn't it. He was turning the words themselves into a Spell Formula. It was protected by the Magic Language of the Celestial Realm, and the structure was so complex it would be difficult for even me to decipher it quickly.
"But no matter how many times you try, it's useless. I have no intention of fighting you—"
The moment he said that, a red line appeared on the Holy King’s cheek.
A split second later, the audience seats behind him were obliterated.
Smoke rose from Beal’s fingertip. He’d managed to fire a condensed Magic Flash.
"Heh... hehe... Even if you have no intention of fighting, I've had mine for a long time. I’ll make you fight, whether you like it or not!"
Beal hadn't broken.
Seeing him step forward with renewed fighting spirit, the Holy King let out a weary sigh.
"Good grief. Such annoying persistence. If you're the Demon King, shouldn't you act like it? You could retreat and plan an ambush, or take a hostage. There are better ways than just relying on brute force."
"Nonsense! A battle against a powerhouse like you is exactly what I want! I have no interest in anything but a direct trial of strength! I'm not letting this end until we’re finished! Lloyd, stay out of this!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
I didn't have any intention of interfering. I’d come in specifically to see them fight. Now that it was getting good, there was no reason to spoil it.
I wondered what would happen next. I sat down in one of the audience chairs to get a better view.
"Master Lloyd, I've got popcorn ready," Grimo said, offering a bowl.
"And I have some cola for you, Master Lloyd," Jiriel added.
"Thanks."
I relaxed into the seat, ready for the show.
Now then, both of you—give me an interesting fight. For the sake of my research.