Published: February 1, 2026
“Ah, the mana reservoir (spot) is getting closer.”
After finishing the paperwork to complete the request at the guild, Lizel happened to look at the blackboard placed next to the quest board. In the morning he’d already seen that the yellow chalk marks indicating abnormal monster outbreaks were gradually shifting off the edge of the board, but now there was something more: red chalk cross‑hatching was starting to peek in from one corner.
The jungle spot never left the forest, so the country itself wasn’t in danger. Even so, if it kept drawing nearer, there would definitely be some impact. Especially for adventurers who headed into the jungle every day, their activity range would probably shrink quite a bit.
“If there’s going to be any effect on you, say so.”
“Ah, mana poisoning? You gonna be okay, Leader?”
“Thank you. We’ve got the sea breeze here too, so I think I’ll probably be fine.”
In Demon Ore Nation (Kavana), the spot had been upwind, so mana flowed straight into the country. Here, thanks to the wind direction, the influence would likely be minor. He wasn’t overflowing with mana to a terrifying degree—just a bit on the high side—so any symptoms would be mild. Lizel nodded, deciding there was no need to be especially on guard.
And if it came down to it, he still had that bandana that could completely shut out mana. Not exactly suited for everyday use in town, though, so he had no intention of wearing it casually.
“H–hey!”
The three of them had been looking at the blackboard, talking about whether or not to deliberately plunge into the spot, when a sudden voice made them turn around. A familiar male adventurer stood there, arms crossed, planted like a gate guardian.
He was the one who had jeered and picked a fight when the leader of theater troupe “phantasm” had come with a request the other day. When the leader had instantly taken the bait, the cheer that had gone up from the entire guild had made Lizel think, The people of Astarnia really are quick to get fired up, aren’t they. Remembering that, he smiled.
Eleven licked his lips and started forward, ready to deal with what he assumed was going to be some pointless complaint, but Lizel held out a hand to stop him. This probably wasn’t about glaring contests.
“What’s the matter?”
“...Got something I wanna ask you bastards.”
Arms still folded, the man’s gaze drifted all over the place.
He looked like he found the words excruciatingly hard to say. But Lizel and the others had no obligation to indulge him, nor any particular interest, so when they moved to calmly leave since he clearly wasn’t going to talk, the man panicked and blurted it out.
“You guys took that theater troupe’s request, so you know, right?! About that demon lord role!”
Seeing the flushed face and the words he spat out in a rush, Lizel nodded with a merciful smile. So that’s it.
Gill averted his eyes with quiet pity. Eleven, meanwhile, sprayed air with all his might and then burst into roaring laughter.
The troupe leader hadn’t backed down even when accosted by adventurers, and when this guy had gone to “see what she was like” on a whim, he’d apparently been thoroughly ensnared by that overwhelming, rose‑like girl. Rumors about phantasm’s plays had reached their ears a few times since opening night, and the reviews were excellent—especially about the demon lord role, which was the talk of the town in several ways.
“I’ve watched the people coming out of the theater but there’s nobody who looks like her at all… I mean, it’s not like I’ve been waiting there or anything, okay!? I just got curious about that demon lord everyone keeps talking about, that’s all!?”
The man was desperately trying to explain himself in response to Lizel and the others’ unexpected reactions.
Lizel rubbed Eleven’s back as he coughed from laughing too hard, and thought it over for a moment. The mystery behind the demon lord’s identity was probably an important part of the troupe’s allure, but they hadn’t actually told him to keep quiet.