As we proceeded through the forest, a slight breathlessness began to weigh on me. My bones creaked, and a faint, searing pain lanced through my frame.
Truthfully, it was hardly worth noting, but there was no reason to suffer needlessly. I cast Protection Magic on both myself and Grom. Immediately, the pain vanished without a trace. Problem solved.
Diera noticed the shift and turned back to look at me.
"The Holy Aura is quite potent. Is thy condition well?"
"It’s fine," I replied with a nod.
The Forest of the World Tree was saturated with Holy Aura. The deeper we ventured, the more intense it became. The concentration was high enough that an ordinary undead would likely have been paralyzed where they stood.
"That is well. It would be past a joke if thou were suddenly purified, after all."
Diera let out a sigh of relief. If she was truly so concerned, I was tempted to ask why she had chosen this forest as the banquet venue in the first place. Knowing her, however, she probably hadn’t given it a second thought. It was a reaction that was quintessentially Diera.
After we had walked for a while longer, Diera turned her gaze toward me again. She scrutinized me from head to toe, her eyes lingering as if searching for something. I checked myself, wondering if something was amiss, but my body was the same as it always was. I couldn't find a single thing out of place.
As I stood there puzzled, Diera spoke with deep feeling.
"I was under the impression that the undead state hindered one’s daily life, but watching you two, I find myself forced to reconsider."
"We are exceptions. Normally, even sunlight is a deadly poison."
Undead are fundamentally fragile beings. While we possess several advantageous traits compared to the living, those benefits come at the cost of numerous vulnerabilities. Holy Magic is the most prominent among them.
Throughout history, many famous undead have walked the world, yet every one of them met a fate of total destruction. Even in Heroic Tales, they are almost invariably subjugated and slain. That is the common perception of our kind.
When I first became the Demon King, people likely viewed me as a temporary threat that would soon be resolved. They judged the situation to be a local problem contained within the Kingdom’s borders and saw no need for immediate action. They must have dismissed my claim of being the Demon King as nothing more than the delusions of a madman.
That was precisely how I had managed to seize the Kingdom so swiftly. Although I had anticipated that reaction, I could only be grateful to the other nations for failing to interfere with my initial movements.
"Dost thou not wish to return to thy human form? There is no requirement for a Demon King to be undead, surely."
"I haven’t given it much thought. Regardless, I cannot return to being human. No spell in existence could make it possible."
I stated this as an absolute fact. Perhaps sensing the weight behind my words, Diera returned a meaningful look.
"The Curse of the Valley of the Dead?"
"Precisely."
I hold the Authority of the Valley of the Dead. I am supplied with near-limitless power from that land, and in return, I restore corpses to its soil. It is, in a sense, a symbiotic relationship.
However, this bond is not without its drawbacks. I am tethered to the Valley of the Dead. If that land were ever purified, my own life would be in jeopardy. Furthermore, no matter what magic is employed, I can never shed my undead form. The Authority that saturates me prevents any such transformation.
No matter how much effort I might exert, I can never cease to be undead. The only way I will ever stop being an undead is when I meet my second death. Of course, I have no intention of letting that happen. Therefore, I shall remain the Immortal Demon King for all eternity.
Diera’s expression turned solemn as she leaned in to peer at Grom’s face. She addressed him with a quiet question.
"And what of thee? Dost thou not wish to become human?"
"This body is a precious gift bestowed upon me by my Lord Demon King. I am already entirely content," Grom replied instantly.
There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice, only a sense of iron-clad resolve. In a way, his conviction might be even firmer than my own. Personally, I believe Grom should do as he pleases, but it seems he has grown fond of his undead body in his own way. More accurately, the fact that we share the same nature is likely what matters most to him. If I were ever to become human, I suspect Grom would joyfully attempt to do the same.
As we continued our conversation, a cluster of wooden buildings appeared ahead. We had reached the Elven Village. We had arrived much sooner than I’d realized.
Diera immediately broke into a trot, heading toward the village.
"It seems we have arrived!"
The Elven Village was bustling with a comfortable level of activity, more so than I remembered from my last visit. The residents seemed to be living peacefully. I felt no hostility directed toward us; when our eyes met, the Elves offered slight bows. Their reactions were somewhat curt, but that was their normal temperament. It wasn't that we were disliked; rather, we were being welcomed in their own way.
If they truly intended to reject us, simply setting foot in the village would not have been such an easy task. No matter the circumstances, the Elves are a race that refuses to discard their pride. They are a people who will not compromise their convictions, even at the cost of their lives. That quality makes them quite likeable in my eyes.
Though our relationship was officially one of subordination, we had maintained a relatively healthy distance. Since moving the forest to this region, our efforts to treat them with respect and remain mindful of their feelings had clearly paid off.
"I am passing through! Make way!" Diera shouted at the top of her lungs as she marched forward.
No one was actually blocking her path, but it was a spirited command nonetheless. Grom and I followed in her wake, offering apologies to the bewildered Elves we passed. It was an incredibly bothersome display.
Eventually, we reached the home of Logan, the village chief. He was already waiting for us outside.
"The gathering isn't until this evening, yet you’ve arrived quite early. Were you really that excited?"
"Dwight simply could not wait, so we departed ahead of schedule," Diera claimed with a heavy sigh.
Logan furrowed his brow and looked at her skeptically. "...Is that so?"
"Umu," Diera nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
In reality, it was a blatant lie, but she delivered it with absolute confidence. I didn't bother to correct her, as it seemed like too much trouble, and I subtly signaled Grom to keep him from objecting.
Logan continued, looking as though he had caught on to the truth of the situation.
"The others will be here soon. Until then, make yourselves at home. You're free to wander the forest."
"May I go see the World Tree?"
"...As long as Dwight goes with you, I don't mind."
Upon hearing that, Diera immediately spun around on her heel. She looked at me and beckoned frantically.
"Excellent! I am in thy debt! Dwight! We shall go at once! Follow me!"
Without waiting for a response, Diera sprinted toward the back of the village. She vanished from sight in an instant, leaving the Elves scrambling to get out of her way. I wondered if she was truly that fascinated by the World Tree. Perhaps the fact that it was a sight she could never behold during her own reign as Demon King had piqued her curiosity.
Having watched the entire spectacle unfold, I turned my gaze toward Logan.
"...You’re foisting her off on me, aren't you?"
"It can’t be helped. Someone needs to babysit her. Besides, it’s not as if you aren't interested in the World Tree yourself," Logan retorted firmly.
He had a point. The chance to see the World Tree was an incredibly rare opportunity. I was indeed interested.
I turned to Grom. "What will you do?"
"I have preparations for the meal to assist with, so I’m afraid I cannot join you," Grom replied.
"I understand."
With a nod, I began to move, following after Diera. I had actually hoped to rest for a while, but it was not to be. I suppose I would be indulging Diera’s whims once again.