The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

He successfully prevented her from committing a self-destructive act.

However... in order to suppress and dismantle the "Holy Light Judgment" that was on the verge of exploding in an instant, he had to use power far beyond the scope of "gentle restraint".

Although this force was precisely targeted at the energy itself, the two were completely opposite in nature. In the process of forcibly annihilating it, it inevitably caused secondary damage to Philippa's already riddled body, probably only slightly less severe than the consequences of her using that self-sacrifice technique herself.

This was not his original intention, but it was the only choice he had out of necessity.

If she had been allowed to deliver that blow, she would have undoubtedly died. Forcibly interrupting the attack saved her life, but it also worsened her injuries to an extremely dangerous degree.

Gray looked at Philippa, who was curled up on the ground, coughing up blood and barely conscious. He felt no joy of victory, only a heavy heart.

He slowly crouched down, and a wisp of pure dark magic cautiously extended out, not to harm her, but to temporarily protect her heart and keep her alive for the last breath.

"What a...reckless idiot..." A barely audible sigh dissipated in the silent hall. The subsequent treatment and explanations would likely be even more troublesome.

Philippa collapsed onto the cold ground, coughing violently and vomiting up blood mixed with fragments of internal organs. Waves of excruciating pain washed over her, but even worse than the pain was a deep-seated helplessness and despair.

Her final, self-sacrificing strike, the "Holy Light Judgment" that embodied all her power, will, and even the very essence of her life, was forcibly extinguished at the last moment by the opponent in such a tyrannical and absolute manner.

Don't they even have the right to fight to the death...?

She struggled to lift her eyelids, her vision blurred as she looked at the figure still shrouded in black robes.

The flames of anger in his amber eyes had been extinguished, leaving only a deathly silence of ashes and a resigned indifference.

“…Heh.” She twitched the corners of her mouth, letting out a soft, almost self-mocking laugh, her voice hoarse and weak, “You’ve won…Demon King.”

She closed her eyes, as if she had unloaded all her burdens, or as if she had completely given up the struggle.

"Just kill me."

She spoke those three words with unusual calmness, without fear or pleading, only a sense of relief after a failed mission and the inability to reverse the situation, and a resolute unwillingness to be humiliated.

Gray looked at her resigned posture, a headache churning within him, utterly helpless. He remained crouched, not approaching, but sighed in his altered, deep voice:

“If I really wanted to kill you, Philippa Ravenhill, you wouldn’t be alive now.”

“From the moment you stepped into this hall and stood before me, critically wounded and on the verge of death, I had countless opportunities to easily take your life. I didn’t even need to lift a finger; I could have simply let your injuries worsen, and you would have been a cold corpse long ago.”

He paused, his gaze seemingly piercing through the black robe, landing on Philippa's face, which was filled with disbelief.

"The moment we meet, I could have decapitated you before you even drew your sword. When you unleash those seemingly flashy sword techniques and magic, every time I parry or dodge, I have at least ten ways to severely injure or even kill you. But I didn't."

His tone carried a barely perceptible hint of frustration.

"I'll spar with you, parry all your attacks, and even in your flawed offensive, repeatedly evade counterattacks that could have been fatal. Until the very end—"

Gray's voice deepened slightly, "It wasn't until you were foolish enough to burn your life force and unleash that suicidal move that I had to intervene and stop you. In order to suppress your out-of-control power in an instant, I could no longer control my strength as precisely as before, which caused a clash of forces and inflicted even more severe damage on your body."

"If I harbored murderous intent, why would I need to go through all this trouble?"

However, Philippa simply opened her eyes slowly, staring blankly at the dome, her voice trembling slightly, and asked the question that concerned her most:

"...What about my companions? Tarik...Sophia...Grandpa Phoenix...what have you done to them?!"

“They’re fine,” Gray replied crisply. “I separated you only to avoid unnecessary interference and to create space for a private conversation with you. My men are… ‘entertaining’ them, but I’ve given orders not to kill them.”

This answer eased Philippa's tension slightly, but her doubts remained deep. She paused for a moment, then finally asked the question that had long troubled her, her voice weak but filled with clear skepticism:

"...Why? During the Holy Light Pilgrimage... I know that the one who saved us and defeated the Demon Order... was you. But I don't understand... why did you do that? You are the Demon King! And we... are the hero team destined to defeat you!"

Her tone was full of confusion; this matter was like a thorn stuck in her heart.

A demon king saving the hero destined to defeat him? This completely defies all common sense and teachings she knows.

Gray wasn't surprised that Philippa knew the rescuers' identities. He calmly replied, "That operation was enough to prove that we didn't harbor the kind of irreconcilable malice towards you, at least then and even now, that you imagine."

Philippa fell into a deeper silence. She lay on the cold ground, her mind churning.

Yes, if the other side truly considered them as enemies to be killed, they could have simply stood by and watched during the Holy Light Pilgrimage, or even taken advantage of their misfortune, leaving them with no chance of survival.

But... the "Demon King" saves the "Hero"? What's the reason behind this? Aren't the Hero and the Demon King destined to be natural enemies, with only one side able to survive?

This deeply ingrained belief was shaken even more violently. She carefully recalled every detail of her encounter with this "Demon King": from the initial abduction, to the standoff, to the battle, and now… He had countless opportunities to kill her, yet he never laid a fatal hand on her, even injuring her only in the end to prevent her self-destruction. Combined with the inexplicable rescue during the Holy Light Pilgrimage…

The ice in her heart began to melt more noticeably. Although she remained wary and confused, the despair of certain death and the urgency that "the other party is an absolute evil attempting to destroy all of humanity and must be eliminated immediately" were finally replaced by intense doubt.

She breathed heavily, her gaze refocusing on Gray's black robe with a complex mix of emotions. Her voice was still weak, but carried a hint of seeking answers:

"...Even if...you don't intend to kill us right now, and even...you've helped us before...then why did you go to such lengths to lure us to this unfamiliar place? What...are you trying to do?"

Seeing that she was finally willing to set aside some of her prejudices and inquire about his purpose, Gray breathed a slight sigh of relief. He knew that the most difficult first step had finally been taken.

"I brought you here not to kill, nor to mock," his voice held an unprecedented solemnity, "but to tell you something... buried beneath the dust of history and sacred lies—"

"the truth."