Logan’s questioning was merciless.
In an instant, I reached for a clumsy evasion.
"What are you saying? I am merely the Demon King—"
"Don’t play dumb. Do you really intend to waste my time with such pointless games?"
Logan cut me off.
Fury at my dishonest reply seeped through his every word. For some reason, he was certain of my identity. This was despite the fact that my magic power had completely transformed, leaving no trace of the man I once was.
Clearing his throat, Logan regained his composure and continued.
"I am not so old that I would forget a friend. That remains true regardless of how much your appearance has changed."
"…Can you still call someone like me a friend?"
"I don't recall ever cutting our ties," Logan declared without a hint of hesitation.
He possessed the same kindness he had all those years ago. He was treating me exactly as he had when I was still human.
"I will say it again. Dwight, what happened to you?"
He threw the question at me once more.
I could no longer hide it. Lies would not work on him, and my identity had already been exposed. I had no choice but to tell him the truth.
"…………"
I clasped my hands together and looked down.
Had I still been alive, sweat would surely be pouring down my face, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was a feeling of profound nervousness; my heart was wavering violently. At that moment, I considered my undead state a stroke of luck. At the very least, I could maintain a mask of outward calm.
I took my time to steel my resolve before finally speaking.
"…Are you aware that the Hero and I were executed?"
"I am. I was so enraged that I actually plotted the King’s assassination. If it weren't for my duties as Chief, I would have gone through with it."
Logan spoke in a low, heavy voice.
I could feel the sheer intensity behind his words. It was no exaggeration; he was a man truly capable of carrying out such a deed, and he possessed the resolve to see it through even at the cost of his own life.
It was the first I had heard of it, but it seemed Logan had already become the Chief by the time of the Demon King Subjugation. It had been over a decade since we last met, and I had lost track of his path.
I was glad he hadn't attempted the assassination. I hadn't wanted to cause him trouble, and the thought of my old friend becoming a criminal and dying because of me was unbearable. For that alone, I felt I had to be grateful for how things had played out.
Logan observed my form with quiet intensity. His gaze held a sense of pure interest rather than the revulsion typical of those facing the undead.
"That transformed figure… You are an Undead King Lich. Did you resurrect through Time-delayed Necromancy?"
"No, that isn’t it. Actually—"
I began to confess everything that had transpired since my execution. I kept nothing back. I spoke honestly about my current objectives as well.
After listening to the end, Logan groaned, his face etched with a complicated expression.
"The Valley of the Dead… To think you absorbed every drop of miasma in that land."
"I cast aside my humanity and fell into darkness. I have slaughtered countless people. Do you despise me?"
I couldn't help but ask with a self-deprecating tone. It was a question that had been smoldering in the depths of my heart. I was a Demon King committed to mass murder. I expected to be cursed, to be looked upon with nothing but contempt.
I was not a man to be defended. I carried a weight of sin that could never be atoned for by death alone. Only my subordinates in the Demon King's Army could view me positively—and even they were either fanatically devoted or using me for their own ends.
That was how it should be. It was necessary for the rest of the world to hate me without exception, to shun me as a creature of pure evil.
However, Logan’s reaction was different. He simply shook his head.
"I don't despise you. It is the path you chose. It is not my place to interfere."
Contrary to my expectations, Logan remained detached. He hadn't changed at all. His voice still held that familiar blend of sternness and underlying warmth.
"Even if your methods and your form have changed, you are still you. Agonizing and searching for a way forward, you are dedicating your very existence to the world. That is simply the way of the Sage, Dwight Harvelt."
"Logan…"
I murmured his name, my voice little more than a groan. Unknowingly, my skeletal fingertips began to tremble. I felt the phantom urge to take a deep breath, a wish that my body of bone could never grant. I gritted my teeth and looked away.
"However," Logan added, "if you ever bring harm to the Elven Clan, that is a different matter. I will kill you, even if it means we both die."
"I see. You truly have become the leader of your people."
"It took no small amount of effort to reach this position, but compared to what you’ve faced, it’s a trivial matter."
Logan spoke nonchalantly. The man who had once grown weary of the Elven Village had returned home to take the seat of Chief. Now, he acted solely for the protection of his kin. There were likely complex reasons behind his return, but it wasn't something I needed to pry into.
As the conversation reached a natural end, Logan stood up. I followed suit.
"That is all I needed. I won't speak a word of your true identity to anyone. Rest easy."
"Logan."
As he turned toward the exit, I found myself calling out to him. He stopped and looked back.
"What is it?"
"…………"
I started to speak but hesitated. I was torn, the words catching in my throat at the final moment. I feared that if I spoke them, something inside me might finally crumble. I was forced to recognize just how unstable my sense of self truly was.
Still, after several attempts, I managed to force the question out.
"…Are you not going to try to stop me?"
"Let me ask you this instead: do you want me to stop you?"
Logan shot back instantly. The words caught me completely off guard. It was a possibility I hadn't even considered. I had no ulterior motive; I had been genuinely curious. Or perhaps, deep down, some part of me did desire it? Is that why the question had surfaced?
I couldn't read my own true intentions. Left without an answer, I stammered awkwardly.
"That… is…"
"I just told you. It isn’t my place to interfere. I agreed to our subservience knowing full well who you were. Do you understand what that implies?"
"…………"
I had no rebuttal. I simply fell silent. Logan let out a long sigh and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"I will do what I must. You do what you must as well."
"—I understand."
I nodded. The vague anxiety that had been plaguing me receded like a falling tide. It seemed my question had been a tactless one. Logan refused to either affirm or deny my actions; he remained a third party to the very end. It was a resolute stance, very much like him.
I didn't actually want to be saved by kind words. I had no reason to hesitate. I would continue to act as the Demon King of this era. Nothing had changed since the moment I made my vow at the bottom of the Valley of the Dead.
I would set aside the knot of emotion remaining in my chest for now. The fact that my existence was twisted was nothing new. Even if there were doubts I could never truly dispel, I was never permitted to stop.
"I will bring the Demon King's Army here. Inform the village so the elves don’t panic."
"Understood."
"…Logan."
I called his name once more before he left. He responded with a hint of weariness.
"What now?"
"Thank you."
"—Don't say that. You’re the Demon King, aren't you?"
My old friend gave a faint, wry smile—an expression he rarely showed. Having seen it, I activated my Teleportation Magic and returned to the Royal Capital.