The deafening sonic pressure from Noir's outburst caused the magical auras of the three demons to visibly flicker. Asmodeus was stunned into silence, kneeling on one knee from the sheer gravitational force, his devotion reaching a new, fearful intensity. Clara, momentarily shock-frozen, stared up at the source of the incredible light and shadow.
Before Noir could regain control of his spiraling mana, the sound of confident, mocking footsteps echoed down the stairs.
The group of older students who had been extorting Clara—led by a sneering demon with slicked-back hair named Yocchan—came into view, drawn by the commotion and the promise of more free goods.
Yocchan stopped, looking at the cracked floor and the horrified faces. He spotted Clara amidst the scattered pile of food and gifts.
"Well, well, look at the little fire hazard," Yocchan said, completely missing the significance of Noir's eruption, dismissing it as a random explosion. He strode toward Clara, kicking the abandoned tiara out of the way. "Don't tell me you're having a cry over the nuisance fee, Clara. We need those rare sulfur treats now. Unless you want us to tell everyone you were crying?"
He didn't look at Noir, addressing Clara with an utterly condescending sneer. "Come on, Pocket. Conjure up the drinks. We're waiting."
Yocchan's demand was the last, crucial piece of the puzzle for Clara. Staring at Noir's terrifying, incandescent rage—anger directed on her behalf—she finally understood. Noir's power wasn't a commodity; it was protection. Her value wasn't her pockets; it was her presence.
The shame, the panic, and the deep-seated belief that she was only valuable for her utility evaporated entirely, replaced by a fierce, protective spark for her new friend.
Clara stood up, her mismatched uniform somehow settling perfectly as she channeled a sudden, focused intensity. Her eyes, usually wide and playful, narrowed with purpose.
"You want drinks?" Clara asked, her voice steady for the first time.
Yocchan smirked. "Yeah, idiot. And make it snappy."
Clara gave a sharp, decisive nod. She thrust her hands into her pockets, but instead of pulling out a soda, she unleashed the full, playful, and utterly chaotic potential of her Pocket Magic.
A massive, clunky, perfectly rendered, heavy-duty Vending Machine—the kind seen in the faculty lounge, fully stocked with chilled human beverages—materialized with a terrifying WHOOSH and a mighty CRUNCH, landing squarely on top of Yocchan.
The lead bully let out a muffled scream as the solid metal machine crushed him into the floor, leaving only his feet sticking out beneath the weight.
"There!" Clara declared, pointing at the prone vending machine with utter satisfaction. Her full, boundless joy had returned, this time rooted in a powerful new conviction. "If you want anything, insert some coins! My pockets are only for friends!"
Yocchan's two cohorts stared in horror at their vending-machine-entombed leader, then back at the giggling, terrifyingly powerful girl. They backed away slowly, their thirst entirely forgotten.
Noir's surging mana instantly retracted, the chaos and light collapsing back into his core. He was left panting slightly, the adrenaline of the release leaving him exhausted but utterly focused. Clara's action was perfectly timed; it dispersed the threat and allowed him to regain control.
He looked at the crushed Yocchan, the fleeing cohorts, and the furiously protective Asmodeus. He knew this incident couldn't just end with a vending machine; the threat to Clara had to be eliminated permanently. He couldn't risk another spiritual panic attack.
Noir turned his head slightly toward Asmodeus, lowering his voice so it was barely a breath—the chilling, cold command of the calculating Lord.
"Asmodeus," Noir murmured, meeting his retainer's intensely loyal gaze. "You heard the command. I am not leaving Clara. Ensure they understand the cost of harassing her again. Permanently."
Asmodeus, his entire being vibrating with renewed dedication, instantly understood. This was not a request; this was a mandate to secure the safety and happiness of his Lord's companion.
"Understood, Noir-sama," Asmodeus hissed, his emerald eyes burning with fierce resolution. "The comfort of the Young Master's chosen companion is paramount. Consider the matter resolved."
Asmodeus didn't hesitate. He gave a sharp bow and turned, striding toward the fleeing cohorts with purposeful, cold aggression. He didn't need fire magic; the sheer aura of an enraged, highly powerful noble demon was enough.
Over the next few minutes, the students remaining in the hall heard several distinct sounds: a series of short, sharp, terrifying screams, followed by an oddly precise sound of something being thrown repeatedly against a stone wall.
When Asmodeus returned, his uniform was slightly dishevelled, and there were several dark, wet bloodstains on the pristine white collar of his uniform jacket—proof of the thoroughness of his intervention.
He stopped beside Noir, his face completely devoid of apology or guilt. "Noir-sama, the integrity of Clara's future playtime is secured. They will not bother her again."
Noir stared at the stains, realizing that Asmodeus had taken his vague command and executed it with brutal, final efficiency. He had secured Clara's freedom from harassment, probably forever, but at a cost.
Inner Dialogue (Noir):He went too far. But... they won't bother her again. The sheer brutality of the Demon World is sometimes the most effective defense. I didn't have to get my hands dirty, but I am entirely responsible for the violence.
The tension should have been absolute, focused on the crushed bully and the bloodied retainer. But Clara was already moving on. She was happy, free, and utterly delighted with her new friend.
She conjured a bright green, gelatinous ball from her sleeve, giggling.
"Catch!" she cried, and without warning, she flung the large, sticky slime ball directly at Asmodeus's head.
The perfectly composed, high-ranking demon was hit squarely in the face with a splattering THWACK, covering his pristine pink hair and his newly bloodied jacket in fluorescent green slime.
Asmodeus froze, stunned, his face dripping goo. His devotion warred with his noble pride.
Clara turned to Noir, her eyes sparkling. "Your turn, Noir! Throw something at Alice! Let's play! We're friends now!"
Noir looked at the two demons: the highly disciplined retainer dripping slime and blood, and the joyful girl bouncing with renewed energy. The contrast was absurd.
A slow, genuine smile finally spread across Noir's face. The terrifying power was gone, replaced by the sincere relief of a terrified boy who had won a profound victory.
He reached into his sleeve, remembering Clara's pocket trick. He focused his will and—to his utter surprise—managed to conjure a small, bright red rubber band. It wasn't magic, but a focused exertion of his will.
He flicked it at Asmodeus, hitting the retainer squarely on the nose.
"Tag, you're it, Alice," Noir said, abandoning the "Lord" persona entirely for a moment.
Asmodeus, despite the slime and the indignity, felt his chest swell with pride. His master was happy! His master had spoken to him casually! His brutal efficiency had been rewarded with a playful command.
"Indeed, Noir-sama!" Asmodeus declared, wiping the slime from his eyes with a bloody sleeve. He returned to the spirit of the game with full, terrifying commitment. He conjured three small, precision-guided pink fireballs and launched them harmlessly into the air, signaling his enthusiastic entry into the game.
The three began to cheerfully play tag amidst the discarded treasures and the crushed vending machine.
As Asmodeus ran, dodging a cushion Clara threw at him, he looked at Noir's laughing face—a face so recently contorted in world-shaking anger.
Inner Dialogue (Asmodeus):Noir-sama is the true embodiment of the Demon World. He is both the ultimate source of cruelty, commanding the absolute destruction of his rivals with a look... and the ultimate source of benevolence, showering loyalty and protection upon those he deems worthy.
Asmodeus didn't see a contradictory fraud; he saw a master whose power was so vast, it encompassed both the darkest severity (the blood stains) and the most profound, playful kindness (the rubber band).
He rules through fear and love in equal measure! Asmodeus thought reverently, delighted to serve a being of such terrifying moral complexity. Truly, the greatest demon of the age!