Time returned to the present—at the base of Yultim Volcano, in the cavernous depths, Charles faced off against the unexpected arrival: Laiah.
Laiah pointed at the necklace around Charles's neck and said coldly, "So that thing really was bait, huh? But if it's bait, don't tell me it's a fake."
Charles yanked the necklace off and replied, "This is a genuine magic stone. If we come to an understanding, I don't mind giving it to you as a parting gift."
That's right—the magic stone Charles wore around his neck was the one that had been lost by the Eye of the Midnight Sun in Saucy Village.
His meeting with Vangeance had been intentional—meant to ensure that someone else within Vangeance saw the stone hanging right in front of him.
Perhaps because he had lived his life constantly spouting lies, Laiah, the Apostle of Lies, possessed a unique sensitivity: he could tell whether others were lying.
What shocked him now was that Charles's words weren't a lie, nor even a deflection. That truth only made Laiah more suspicious.
He narrowed his eyes. "What, you trying to say you agree with our Eye of the Midnight Sun ideals and want to join up?"
His tone didn't carry any joy—only a coldness that hinted at contempt.
'As expected from disgusting humans. Even the most selfish, oppressive ideas can find sympathizers among them. They're a filthy, wicked race,' Laiah thought bitterly.
Yes—even as one of the Eye's top officers, Laiah hated their ideology. Because it merely reflected humanity's ugliest nature, the very nature that had destroyed everything dear to him.
Still, if Charles admitted it, the magic stone would come back easily enough. And Laiah would be glad to recommend him as a "sacrifice" for the reincarnation spell.
So he shrugged and said, "If that's the case, then hand over the stone. It's a hassle, but I wouldn't mind putting in a good word to make you a senior member."
Charles clutched the stone in his hand without any intent of giving it up. "No need to rush. Let me say this up front—I don't give a damn about the Eye's so-called ideals. I went to all this trouble not to surrender, but to talk."
Laiah feigned a troubled expression. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy. What a pain. And I'm your target? I don't recall doing anything worth all this attention."
Charles gave him a wry look. "Falsehood suits you, 'Apostle of Lies.' I've spelled it all out, yet you're still playing dumb. You came alone. That's because you already realized what this is really about, didn't you?"
Indeed, Charles had been training these past days, but that wasn't all—he'd also been setting this trap for Laiah. He had gone out of his way to show Patry that he was carrying the magic stone, and he had done nothing to hide his movements afterward. It was all to lure Laiah out.
Magic stones were the Eye of the Midnight Sun's primary goal. Patry would never give up on recovering one from Charles.
But having fought Charles, Patry knew that reclaiming the stone would be as difficult as taking it from a squad captain—if not harder. And even if he could beat Charles, catching him if he ran would be nearly impossible.
Add to that Charles's location deep within Yultim Volcano—a strong mana zone where Charles had homefield advantage—and any low-tier grunt from the Eye would be hopelessly outmatched.
That left only three people strong enough to retrieve the stone: Patry himself, or the remaining Apostles of the Eye.
But Patry, currently acting as Vangeance, was occupied with the aftermath of the Kiten battle. He couldn't move freely.
Vetto had been defeated at the Sea Temple. The other, Fana… well, best not mention her.
Sending Fana—whose magic Charles specifically countered—would've been suicide. So the only real option was Laiah.
And Laiah, for all his lazy demeanor, was observant—more so than even Patry. While Patry failed to see the setup, Laiah noticed Charles's strange behavior almost immediately.
Still, he only spread his hands with a sigh. "Who knows. But hurry up and get to the point. I'm tired enough to pass out."
Charles smirked. "Where to begin… ah, how about with your comrade's power?"
A light blade in the shape of a fishbone pierced the ground where Charles had been standing just moments ago. The laziness vanished from Laiah's face, replaced with cold fury.
"Are you here to remind me that Vetto—the comrade I valued most—was killed by you people? If so, congratulations. You've pissed me off."
Charles dodged the light sword, backing off while waving a hand. "I'm not so vile that I'd insult a warrior who fought to the bitter end. But haven't you realized? There's something wrong with the power in your bodies."
"…What do you mean?" Laiah's mind was sharp enough to calm down and ask.
Charles continued, "Your leader once told the story of a race stripped of everything. But interestingly, the kingdom's lore tells a very different tale."
Laiah's face twisted—not just in anger, but something bordering on madness.
Clover Kingdom folklore had many stories, but the most famous was the tale of the First Wizard King defeating a demon and saving humanity. It was that story that inspired both Asta and Yuno to dream of becoming Wizard King.
In the story, the demon had been summoned by a race greedy and evil—beings who sought to monopolize all magic. They were called the "demon tribe."
Laiah's rage was only natural. The elf tribe—beloved by mana, peaceful and kind—had everything stolen from them. Yet even five centuries later, they were cursed and scorned as the demon race.
As someone who had lived through that hellish massacre, how could Laiah not seethe with hatred?
Charles didn't provoke him further. "I don't believe in history passed down by the victors. I trust my own eyes.
I can sense something unique in royal magic power. And I've felt that same quality in you Apostles of the Eye.
So you must be that race from five hundred years ago—the ones whose magic was stolen by the royals."
Laiah felt like he had been pulled back to that dreadful day—five centuries ago, when fire and blood rained from the sky.
A giant magic circle blotted out the heavens, sealing away the elves' unmatched mana and spells.
Then came the countless blades of light, and the screams of dying comrades. So much blood. So much grief. So much hatred.
Sadness. Rage. Vengeance. Despair. All of it gnawed at his soul, worse than the light blades that had pierced his body.
On his forehead, a third eye opened—glowing with sinister power.
"You really brought it all back, huh… Thanks for the reminder. Humans—should all be wiped out!"
Charles sighed. As expected, it had come to this.
Only the rational Laiah could be reasoned with. But now, under the influence of the demonic third eye, Laiah had lost his clarity.
Still, unlike Patry, Vetto, or Fana, Laiah's darkness wasn't as deep.
"Fine, I'll help you vent that fury. But listen up, Laiah. If you go too far—if you lose yourself completely—I won't hold back."
Cracking his knuckles, Charles stepped forward to fight.
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