Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Chapter 125 – The End Of War, Part 1

"Go, Van." Amoria whispered in his ear, her voice barely cutting through the roar of the cheering crowd.

Van hesitated. "You sure?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I'll handle things here—calm the crowd, coordinate with the demonic advisor, and figure out what lies beneath the portal. It might take time to decipher, but with their help, we'll manage."

"Meanwhile… get ready." Her voice softened. "And then… you should go to the Dragon King's place."

A pause.

"Will you be alright?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face.

"It won't take a minute." Van let out, his tone steady—but his mind wasn't.

"Right..." Amoria looked down, a somber smile crossing her lips, as if she wanted to believe him.

The moment lingered.

"…Will you?" Van asked just as he was about to take off.

She smiled at him before swiftly pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Of course!" she said, her voice full of forced cheer—but he saw it. The way she bit her inner lip. The way her fingers twitched before letting go.

Van lingered. 'What can I even say to her?'

'Who knows how long she's been captive? How long she's been waiting for a moment like this…' But she was standing here now, determined.

'Still… I can tell.'

Time slowed. His heightened perception sharpened every detail—the subtle tremor in her breath, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

'I can tell that you bite your lip.'

'That you're hurting.'

His fingers twitched. He almost reached for her—almost cupped her cheek, almost tried to help her fight that war within.

But he stopped.

'Right.'

'Magus's influence is lifted, sure. But… she's not the woman I love anymore.'

'So then… why do I feel like touching you?'

'To comfort you? To tell you it's okay? That I can share the burden, even just a little?... To help fight that war within you?'

He swallowed, the weight of his own words pressing against his chest.

'...Yeah… I've fought quite a bit, haven't I? Wherever I'm needed. And seeing as even you up above have something against me, Goddess… there's still so much more to be done. So much more fighting, things to resolve.'

He took in the roaring crowd, their cheers echoing in his ears.

Their reason for cheering?

The body of the bishop—the one he had split himself.

'Violence, huh?'

The crowd cheered louder.

'Force.' He recalled Ami and the Feline Tribe's hostile takeover. Then Alicia—how she waged war against the humans.

'Manipulation…' His thoughts drifted to the bishop, how he had remained in power for so long—as long as he had slaves around him.

'Mind control.' Magus.

The way Amoria's heart, which had once beaten for him, had started beating for Magus instead.

'Will it ever be over?'

'Will I ever have the chance to fully concentrate on Alicia? On what it means to love? Does it even exist? To just… be with her, without the weight of war clinging to my back?'

He pondered, recalling Varlog's advice—how he would have to act the part once they started living in the Demonic Realm together.

What awaited him there was just another war—one of a different nature.

A war to keep her eyes on him at all times.

A battle of exhaustion, endless in its cycle.

Because war never truly ends.

Win one battle, and another waits just around the corner.

And now, with the Goddess herself standing against him, that truth had multiplied a million-fold.

"Van?" Amoria's voice pulled him from his thoughts, her eyes

"Seal this room. Make sure no one hears anything from the outside… Please. Is it possible, considering you manipulate wind?" Van asked.

["Of course. Already done."] She nodded, her expression unreadable.

["…And… I accept your apology. From earlier."]

She turned away, her tone quiet.

Van exhaled softly. 'Almost like a second Lalyn…'

"Thanks," He let out causally and turned to Michael.

"Michael."

The young man flinched, slowly looking up.

"Ah… Van…" His breath hitched as his eyes widened.

"I'm... sorry. I... I was just a slave when I blamed you, and—"

"Stop." Van's voice was gentle as his eyes drifted to the wooden ceiling.

"…?" Michael hesitated, watching him.

"Yes, you were a slave. I could tell." Van lowered his gaze again. "But no one forced you to put the blame on me. I know that for a fact."

"…Ah… Huh...? I... I don't… But… I was enslaved..! I didn't mean any harm, or—" Michael stammered, his words crumbling as his gaze darted anxiously.

"When I dragged you out of the guild, you started begging me to stop. Saying you were sorry." Van's tone was flat.

Michael stiffened.

"No branded slave can do that. Go back on orders. This was all you."

Van sighed, then leaned in, locking eyes with him.

Michael's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"Just tell me. I'm used to people treating me like shit. Part of this ability I have." Van exclaimed.

"…Tell you…?" Michael asked, his expression twisted into a grimace.

"Tell me. Why did you cooperate with Bernard?"

Michael's fingers dug into his pants. His throat tightened.