Chapter 6
671words
The air reeked of dust and decaying vegetation. Despite its name, Green Leaf Village had no forests—only scrubland and sparse crops.
"What a dump," one teammate spat. "Starting trouble in a place like this—they must have a death wish."
Ignoring him, I unfolded Kanon's map while discreetly releasing a shadow-raven construct—nearly invisible—to monitor Fujiwara's movements in Black Stone Town. We couldn't risk unexpected observers for our "performance."
After completing preparations, I turned to the group with my first command, delivered in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Tsukishima."
"Yes." She responded instantly, expression cold but eyes betraying nervous anticipation.
"Your task," I pointed toward the distant village outline, "is to surround the entire settlement with your Wall of Lament. Maximum power. I want those insects completely contained—not even a fly escapes."
Wall of Lament was Tsukishima's specialty—a large-scale barrier spell. Though defensive in nature, its complete containment made it resemble a transparent execution chamber to others.
At my order, everyone except Tsukishima smiled cruelly. This matched expectations perfectly—cut off all escape routes, then enjoy the hunt.
"Understood." Tsukishima began her incantation without hesitation.
Soon, a massive semi-transparent silver barrier rose from the ground, enveloping Green Leaf Village entirely. Complex runes flowed across its surface, radiating despair.
"Perfect—Plan A's first phase complete."
"Move out," I pocketed the map. "Time to harvest our points."
We marched imposingly toward the village entrance.
Chaos had already erupted inside. Villagers stared in terror at the massive barrier overhead, screams and desperate cries filling the air.
Some brave souls armed with pitchforks and hunting bows charged at us, but their resistance was laughable against Demon Lord candidates.
My teammates rushed forward eagerly, unleashing destructive spells. Buildings ignited, and the ground cratered from explosions.
A textbook "suppression" had begun.
Or so it appeared.
Before giving orders, I'd already instructed Tsukishima through Soul Resonance: "Maintain position under the guise of 'sustaining the spell.' Modify the Wall of Lament for one-way soundproofing—amplify internal screams tenfold for external listeners."
Fujiwara's detection magic would hear only a horrific massacre. Meanwhile, my teammates saw villagers "terrified out of their minds," fleeing in all directions before being "easily" struck down.
They'd never know I'd secretly placed low-level illusion and protection spells on every villager. Those seemingly fatal attacks had their power reduced by ninety percent—causing at most superficial wounds.
Amid the chaos, I slipped away toward the sturdiest stone house in the village center—the chief's residence.
Inside sat an elderly elf with silver-streaked hair and remarkably wise eyes—Chief Qianye of Green Leaf Village.
He calmly sipped barley tea, as if the "massacre" outside were happening in another world.
"Impressive illusion work, young Demon Lord," he set down his cup and finally looked at me. "This 'tragedy' you've orchestrated would fool even Black Stone's lord."
My heart froze. He saw through it?
"How did you—"
"This old man may not fight anymore, but after several centuries, I retain some discernment." He gestured outside. "Your companions appear murderous, yet none carries the bloody aura of true killing. What exactly are you planning?"
After a moment's silence, I met his gaze directly and spoke deliberately:
"I propose a deal. I help you all 'survive,' and you become my first foothold."
Elder Qianye studied me deeply, his eyes flashing with surprise and then profound relief.
He stood and bowed deeply.
"Green Leaf Village offers you our loyalty."
Just then, Tanaka—my intelligence operative—materialized behind me, kneeling.
"Lord Hayato, reports from Black Stone Town indicate Fujiwara's forces have begun advancing toward their target after 'confirming' our situation here."
I nodded. Everything according to plan.
"Relay my orders," I said, watching my classmates outside still reveling in their "massacre," cold amusement in my eyes. "Have the villagers continue their 'performance.' After my colleagues have satisfied their bloodlust, Elder Qianye, you'll lead all 'survivors' to offer a pledge of 'submission.'"
Time for the final act in this drama called "Suppression."
While a revolution named "Liberation" was just beginning.
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