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

Philippa lay there, motionless, her chest rising and falling slightly with her disordered breathing. Her amber eyes stared blankly at the ancient reliefs on the dome, as if trying to confirm through those cold stone carvings whether she was still in reality.

In his mind, the memories of his past interactions with "Grey Brandt" were like shattered pieces of a mirror, beginning to piece together again from a completely new and unsettling perspective.

The border boy who feasted with her at the banquet and complained about the hypocrisy of the nobility;

The storyteller with gentle eyes, patiently describing the forest and the distance to her;

That friend who holds a special place in her heart, someone she can rarely get along with easily;

Even... that wedding invitation she'd received not long ago from "Grey Brandt" and "Aiota" (whom she didn't even know)...

The backdrop to all these scenes was now shrouded in a bottomless, dark hue belonging to the "Demon King." A profound sense of absurdity and disorientation nearly overwhelmed her sanity. Friend and mortal enemy—two absolutely opposing identities—had overlapped within the same person!

She recalled the mysterious rescue during the Holy Light Pilgrimage, the repeated leniency shown by her opponent in the battle just now, and the severe injuries he inflicted to prevent her self-destruction... All of his actions seemed to have a different interpretation, a trajectory completely different from her past understanding, full of contradictions and unknowns.

In that instant, she seemed to "understand" everything.

Philippa did not refute this further.

The private stories Gray recounts are like keys that precisely unlock the floodgates of memory, but at the same time, they unleash a devastating torrent.

The weight of the truth was no longer a cold boulder, but transformed into countless poisoned daggers, tearing her past understanding to shreds from the inside out.

The first encounter at the banquet? It wasn't a coincidence, but a deliberate attempt to get closer!

Those pleasant conversations? Not because they were congenial, but because they were carefully scripted!

That carefully treasured "friendship," so different from the hypocrisy of royalty? It wasn't warmth, but poison wrapped in honey! It was the perfect mask he wore to observe and manipulate her, this "hero"!

Even... that invitation... was it also the final move in this long deception, to completely lull her into a false sense of security?

"Grey Brandt"...this name, this identity, along with all the memories associated with it, have become the most vicious joke at this moment. What she thought was sincerity was all acting; what she felt was ease was all a trap; the trust she gave became the sharpest blade piercing her own heart.

This is not a simple revelation of her identity; it is a complete, cruel, and protracted deception and betrayal directed at her personally!

“Heh…heh heh…” A low, broken laugh escaped Philippa’s throat, carrying a chilling despair and self-mockery.

She looked up, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the blood and grime that trickled down her cheeks. Her amber eyes were fixed on Gray, burning not with pure anger, but with the pain, humiliation, and almost insane questioning that came from crushed trust.

“Liar…!” Her voice was hoarse and trembling violently. “It was all… a lie! From the very beginning… it was a scam! When you watched me… like a clown… confiding in you… trusting you… were you secretly… laughing at my stupidity?! 'Grey Brandt'… this person… is just a phantom you made up to fool me… to destroy me!!

An emotional volcano erupted, crushing the last line of defense of reason. The despair and humiliation of betrayal forcibly ignited her long-depleted life potential! Chaotic, violent, and utterly reckless power of light burst forth from her broken body like a final burst of light before death!

"Ughh ...

Gray stared at the scene before him, his heart clenching as if gripped by an invisible hand. He had anticipated her anger and hostility, but he hadn't expected the truth to bring about such a devastating collapse based on "betrayal." 'She believes... this is a personal hoax...' This realization suffocated Gray.

He must stop her from continuing her self-destruction.

With a swift movement, he precisely cut into the chaotic interplay of light and shadow.

Instead of resorting to force, he adopted an almost tolerant approach, gently but irresistibly grasping her wrist as she held the sword. Shadow magic flowed gently like a trickle, soothing the raging power in her meridians, causing her sword to fall to the ground with a clang once more.

With his other hand, he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder, supporting her swaying body. A soothing magic slowly flowed in, not to subdue her, but to calm her burning pain.

Philippa froze instantly, the force she had been exerting dissipating like the receding tide.

She leaned weakly against Gray, her body trembling violently from extreme emotional turmoil and exhaustion. Uncontrollable sobs welled up from deep within her chest, filled with despair and helplessness after being utterly betrayed.

She was not unconscious, but her consciousness was swallowed up by immense grief and nothingness. She was only instinctively relying on this "enemy" who had just revealed the cruelest truth, as if he were the only thing in this collapsing world that could keep her from shattering completely.

Grey silently supported her, letting her tears soak his black robe.

The violent trembling and suppressed sobs in her arms gradually turned into intermittent sobs and exhausting silence.

Philippa still leaned weakly against Gray, as if all her soul had been ripped away, leaving only an empty, scarred shell.

Gray sensed that the tidal wave of her emotions had temporarily subsided, leaving only a desolate beach. He continued to support her, not letting go, his deep, clear voice, like a lighthouse trying to pierce the fog, slowly rising:

"Fool……"

The word, carrying a long-lost familiarity and helplessness belonging to "Grey," gently tapped on Philippa's almost numb heartstrings.

“Think about it carefully,” his voice was calm, guiding her thoughts. “When we first met at the banquet, I was indeed the Demon King of this generation, I don’t deny that. But… back then, you weren’t the ‘Hero’ yet, were you?”