The sun shone on the desert landscape. Dozens of orcs lay on the ground, exhausted by hunger, thirst, and the scorching heat. Only three figures walked the streets of the small village: the only woman in the group was named Scylla, the bodyguard of the Orc King; the second, hidden by a black cloak to protect himself from the heat, was the only son of the ruler and Prince of the Orcs, Gherd; the last figure, the one at the head of the group, was none other than the King himself, Gherdmiude.

  All three gazed sorrowfully at the desolate land. The children, instead of playing in the streets, spent their scant energy fighting and competing for the little food available. The adults were certainly no better off: some were mourning the death of their children; others, however, were mourned because they had recently died themselves.

  It's a tragedy; however you look at it.

  Gherdmiude sighed and continued forward. They had brought the little food they found to that small place. It wasn't much, but it might prevent someone's death for a few days. It was the best he could do; he hated feeling so helpless in the face of his beloved people's desperation.

  "My King, please reconsider it!"

  The woman declared, once the group left the village.

  "Scylla is right, Father!"

  Gherd continued, appealing to the sovereign.

  "Going to the trolls is too risky! If we were to lose you during such a famine, we orcs would be left with nothing but utter despair!"

  The King listened to the pleas, but did not accept them and continued to advance, leaving the two a few steps behind.

  They're right, but I can't help it. It's the only solution I've come up with in the last ten years. The situation is only getting worse every day.

  Though their population had been more than halved, more than two hundred and fifty thousand individuals remained. Unlike the orc children, the adults could go without food for a long time, but it was a painful process—both physically and mentally. It almost seemed like a twist of fate; what parent would consider it fortunate to survive long enough to watch their child starve?

  "Those born the day before yesterday died today, those born yesterday will die tomorrow, those born tomorrow may not live long enough to say they've lived a single day. If this isn't despair, then what do you call it?"

  "My King..."

  "Father..."

  With no way to argue, the two remained silent and lowered their heads.

  “We no longer have any choice but what I proposed to you last night.”

  He declared in a devastated tone, now almost completely hopeless. Gherdmiude had tried various solutions, but all had failed miserably. He had considered allying himself with other forest races, such as the lizardmen or the Oni, who were closest to them, but they would never have accepted.

  The former hated the orcs because they occasionally raided their frontier villages in search of food. By Gherdmiude's orders, killing was forbidden except in self-defense. He hated that method, but it was the only one that actually worked consistently. If there were casualties among their ranks, it was almost better; fewer mouths to feed when they returned with the food. It was horrible to think about, but in their situation, they had no choice.

  The Oni didn't hate them directly, but he doubted they would form an alliance or have the material resources to do so. Their leader would never agree to help them without paying a heavy price that the orcs couldn't afford to repay. Gherdmiude had only one option left, and he didn't like it one bit.

  "I'll go to the Troll King to propose an alliance..."

  As soon as they saw him walk away, the two behind him immediately raised their heads and followed him.

  "But...it is said that their new King is extremely powerful and tyrannical! Some even say he aims to conquer the forest in its entirety!"

  Scylla respectfully objected.

  "I know...but there's no other choice. The trolls are the strongest race in the entire Dark Jade, and they're the only ones who could help us given our numbers. They have the food and resources to feed us, and perhaps I can even secure a good position for us. You stay here and await my return."

  “M-My King! I cannot let you go alone! It would be a disgrace as a bodyguard!”

  “I'll go alone, Scylla. That's an order.”

  He declared coldly, earning a bow of respect from the woman, who did not dare contradict her sovereign.

  I'm sorry to disrespect your loyalty, my dear Scylla. Gherd needs someone to stand by him if I don't return.

  Unfortunately, there was no certainty of his return and Gherdmiude knew that better than anyone.

  “I hope I'm making the right choice."

  "Unfortunately, in the end, it was the worst possible choice."

  The King stopped suddenly and turned toward the voice he'd heard. He saw a girl standing a few meters away. She had dark pink skin, one red eye and the other brown, crimson hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was dressed in rather casual clothes. Two large dragon wings rested on her back, and a tail wagged behind her.

  Why does this girl is familiar to me?

  For some reason he couldn't explain, that girl wasn't a new face. He felt he knew her, but he wasn't sure how.

  "You...you are...?"

  "Do you recognize me? Then it means there's still a little bit of you left in here."

  She replied, surveying the scene. Her tone was a mixture of playfulness and sadness, as if she were hiding her true mood about the situation.

  “Unfortunately, even if I were able to reactivate your consciousness, you would once again succumb to the murderous hunger brought on by your forced evolution into a Doom Orc.”

  "I understand..."

  Gherdmiude looked around with a depressed and tired look, almost desperate. When the girl uttered the words "Doom Orc”, something had ignited within him. He remembered everything that had happened since he'd lost his sanity and control over his body. Furthermore, he could see a few steps away from him another Gherdmiude walking away from them. It was his past self; the one who had made the choice and the protagonist of that damned memory.

  "We're in my mind, right?"

  "Exactly!"

  Almodea replied, folding her arms behind her back and moving toward the dream Gherdmiude, who had stopped once the memory had ended. They were in a timeless place, after all.

  “This happened almost a year ago, right?”

  The King shifted his gaze to Scylla and her son, who were visible in the distance. They were slowly fading as the memory faded. He waved his hand as if to bid them a final farewell before answering Almodea.

  "Yeah. I regret that choice, you know?"

  He declared, clenching his fists. A repressed rage welled up in his heart, causing him to roar.

  “I know it brought death and desolation to everyone else, but what else could I do?! I couldn't bear to see more of my comrades—adults and children alike—die from hunger!”

  "Hey, calm down, buddy!! Calm down!"

  Almodea warned him with a small smile.

  “I'm not here to lecture you! I don't think I'm mature enough to tell you what you did wrong or what you could have done instead. I'm immature, but you're not my enemy; I have no reason to rub salt in the wound.”

  Gherdmiude watched the girl gesture with her finger and smiled. Those warm words were warming his heart. How long had it been since he heard them directed at him?

  "You are less impertinent than I thought, young Almodea."

  He looked around again, watching the horizon slowly become engulfed by ever-darkening shadows. The memory was losing its quality of scenery and beginning to regress to a miserable fragment of forgettable oblivion.

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  Before he could ask anything else, the scene changed and the two moved into what he recognized as the Gerud’s Slaughterhouse. His past self was chained to the wall, covered in wounds and cuts. He remembered that time well, when that damned demon had forcibly implanted the Ruthless Devourer skill into him. That memory dated back to a few days after the implant; Gerud was thrilled at the prospect of testing all the new properties of his enhanced body.

  "Let me go! Let me go, please! I beg you!"

  The Gherdmiude of the memory cried out, chained to the wall.

  "Don't resist! I'm doing you a favor, stupid pig!"

  The masked demon scolded him, raising a large, clean cleaver.

  “With my enhancements, you'll be as powerful as the Doom Troll! He 'll be happy to have a new pawn! Consider it a baptism, Gherdmiude!”

  Gerud continued, starting to tear the orc's arm apart mercilessly.

  This Him again... Almodea thought, snorting in boredom at the sight.

  "Do you happen to know who Gerud is referring to with He?"

  "No, I'm sorry."

  He replied, shaking his head.

  “Gerud never mentioned any names. And even if he had, I have no memory of the last ten months. May I ask how my son is? How is Scylla? My actions have caused so much suffering, haven't they?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Almodea's words were like a stab to the heart; his choice had been wrong in the end.

  “Buuuuut, your son is doing great and Scylla is the picture of health. I’m not kidding about that.”

  “Hahaha! It’s true. She’s always been a woman who wanted to be strong to protect me, after I saved her.”

  “She is very loyal to you. I’m a bit envious, you know?”

  As the two spoke, the landscape shifted again, returning to the desolate land it had been moments before. The only difference was Gherdmiude's appearance, which had now taken on the form of the Doom Orc, and no longer his original self. They were in one of the deepest regions of his mind, where the Ruthless Devourer skill had merged with his soul.

  "You're not here to judge me because you're here to devour me instead, right?"

  "You got it, huh?"

  The orc nodded, watching the shadows he had seen earlier grow ever closer.

  "It was pretty obvious, yes. You told me just now before you entered my mind. The Doom Orc’s memories are returning to me slowly."

  Gherdmiude sighed, looking up at the darkening sky. It wasn't his skill, but Almodea's. It was still a Devourer skill, so he couldn't demand or expect mercy from that girl—not that he could blame her.

  "That demon told me that if I evolved into a Doom Orc, I could become as powerful as the Troll King, conquer the forest and never let anyone starve again..."

  He sighed again and lowered his head towards Almodea.

  "...It seems they were all lies; the only part that even mattered to me it was, at least. I was the pawn of a cruel and self-centered demon, but I had no other choice."

  Gherdmiude stared intently at the girl, peering into her eyes, the only mirror he could see into reality. He was still struggling, but he didn't know how much longer he could go on. His body on the outside had stopped moving, now covered in ink from head to toe.

  "I can't let you eat me, little demoness. I know how powerful you are, but I must survive for my comrades!"

  "Unfortunately, that's not possible. I'm sorry..."

  “I have devoured magical beasts, Gerud, even my own comrades.”

  He declared, feeling only resentment for his own actions.

  “But I did it for them, despite everything. That's why I can't lose to you. I must devour you and become the strongest, so that no one will ever suffer again.”

  "My father taught me that when you have power, all is permitted: that is the law that governs the world."

  Almodea's words betrayed her true emotions, and she didn't like what she'd said either—at least not in that context.

  "Your father is very wise."

  Gherdmiude could only nod, understanding what the girl was about to tell him.

  "It's the same among beasts: the weakest gets eaten. And now you're the weakest of the two, and that's why you'll die."

  His shoulders slumped. Gherdmiude could feel his body kneeling in reality, and his skin had stopped regenerating, exposing his bones. He was succumbing to Almodea, and he didn't resent it, nor did he hate her for what she was doing to him.

  However...

  “That’s precisely why I can’t lose. Don’t you understand my situation, little girl?”

  ...He couldn't die, not that way or at that time.

  "If I sinned, it's not a problem—I took on the suffering of others in their place—so that no one else would suffer. It was my choice, and I take responsibility for it."

  He declared decisively, looking at Almodea's stoic face.

  “I can't leave others alone with the burden of my guilt. I can't lose to you, I can't... abandon them!"

  "Hope and good intentions alone cannot bridge the gap in power between us."

  Almodea replied frankly, approaching him and taking his hand. Gherdmiude could feel the girl's touch. She was warm and supportive, completely different from what he expected from a demon. Despite the coldness in her words, he could sense the empathy behind them.

  "But don't worry, I'll take care of everyone! I can promise you that I won't just devour your body and your memories, but also your sins...all of them! Even your regrets!"

  "Will you devour my...sins? My regrets?"

  "Yes!"

  Almodea smiled at Gherdmiude and approached him, shaking his hand with surprising strength, despite the difference in size between their two limbs.

  "I will devour not just your sins, but everyone's! I will eat everything! Suffering! Despair! Hope! Everything until only joy remains...that's a promise!"

  "Will you also devour the sins...of my people? Will you eat everything until only joy remains? Why would a demon do this?"

  “Because I am strong enough to do what I want without consequences, or so I would like to think.”

  The girl continued, smiling slightly.

  “And let's be honest for five seconds; no one is truly blameless in this war. Everyone has done things they would never want done to them but, after all, that's what it means to be powerful. Those who are strong can be inconsistent, incoherent and devoid of any obligation. That's the law that underpins the world we live in now.”

  "You are right."

  Gherdmiude muttered under his breath. What Almodea had said was true, and he couldn't deny it, even though he didn't like seeing the world that way. It would have been hypocritical of him not to agree with the girl, given what his tribe had been through in the first place.

  To be punished and suffer just for having committed the sin of being born into this world...what a cruelty.

  Gherdmiude began to squeeze the demoness's hand tightly, without any aggressive intent behind it. He had accepted his fate, and finally let tears flow down his cheeks as everything around them began to grow darker.

  “You want to eat my guilt, my regrets and everything that doesn’t bring happiness?”

  He began to laugh as the darkness swallowed him up completely, leaving nothing behind. Gherdmiude's voice echoed for the last time in that dreamlike abyss, before it too was swallowed up by the darkness that represented the end of all things.

  "You really are immature, little girl."

  Only total darkness remained...

  ...

  ...

  ...

  ...

  ...

  -Or so it seemed.

  A light flickered in the darkness, a small red A made of flames spontaneously forming, slowly illuminating that dark abyss. Gherdmiude opened his eyes, astonished at the mere fact of being alive. He looked around, and nothing of the darkness remained; the desolate land from moments before had become a thriving city, illuminated by a gigantic flaming red A that had replaced the sun.

  What? Where am I? I'm not hungry anymore...

  He rose from the ground and looked at his hands: they were his, not the Doom Orc's one. He approached a stream that was flowing nearby and almost burst into tears again. His body had returned to its original appearance, as if purified by the influence of the Ruthless Devourer skill.

  "Oh? Ohhh...!"

  Gherdmiude gazed out over the town in the distance. He could see children of different species playing together, various individuals strolling the streets, and a few couples sitting at various tables, laughing together.

  “This is a utopia.”

  "Oh, thank you! This is my biggest dream! To have a happy life!"

  Gherdmiude looked toward the source of that voice. Almodea had appeared beside him, gazing out over the city with him. He couldn't even begin to describe how beautiful what he was seeing was. The tears still streaming down his cheeks would never end, but their meaning changed: now they were a sign of joy, not remorse.

  “Is this really your dream?”

  “Yes. It’s stupid given who I really am.”

  Gherdmiude didn't immediately grasp the meaning of those words, but decided to let the girl continue without interrupting her.

  “Everyone is happy here: my friends, my family...”

  Almodea shifted her gaze to a small white building with bells ringing on top. She flapped her wings and then sighed, staring intently at that particular building.

  "...And those I love."

  “All this is pure utopia! I cannot deny that it is what I have always dreamed for my people and for all those unfortunates like us.”

  Gherdmiude knelt down and looked down at the girl with his lucid gaze.

  "You're an angel, Almodea."

  He stated, letting more tears flow.

  "Oh, no! I am a demon! The Demoness of Fear!"

  Almodea corrected him, smiling.

  "Demoness of Fear?"

  For Gherdmiude, that definition didn't have much meaning.

  “The Absolute Fear! The one so strong it brings the end of all things!”

  The girl declared proudly, but her enthusiasm was short-lived. After a few seconds, Almodea's wings drooped and her gaze darkened.

  “That's what I'm supposed to be, at least. This need to remain between you and me, but since I've been running the town of Almy, I've no longer felt confident about being the fear that brings the end of the world like my father...”

  “You said you were the Absolute Fear, right? Yet you dream all this! How could you be capable of this? How have you changed your nature?”

  He asked, confused. If Almodea had succeeded, perhaps there was hope that the world would change and no longer be a place of despair and sadness. Gherdmiude knew his thoughts were pure and foolish utopia, but he still had the hope that he could believe it. Almodea had said it too, in her own way: with power, anything was possible.

  "Fear doesn't always mean something bad, you know?"

  "Yes, you are right about that..."

  Gherdmiude took one last look at his body: it was starting to fade. He felt a pang of sadness for the last time; he would never again be able to witness that fantastic place Almodea dreamed of. But he couldn't waste his time in glories; he wanted to say one last thing to that girl, and he had to do it now—he didn't have much more left.

  “Listen to me, immature and powerful demoness! So powerful that she could even devour my guilt...”

  He began, smiling and looking at the other with a genuine smile.

  “...Thank you! I thank you with all my heart! Now my despair has been eradicated.”

  Gherdmiude had to stop when he felt a strange sensation. He felt the life slipping from his fingers, as if it were fleeing. He moved his hand toward Almodea, hoping she would grasp it. It was the last gesture he could make, and he wanted it to be a sign of respect for the one who had relieved him of the burden that had weighed on his shoulders since he was born.

  Almodea grabbed his hand, which had now become almost completely transparent and devoid of matter. Gherdmiude was staring at her with tear-filled eyes and a lively smile, despite the situation being the exact opposite of a happy scenario.

  “Tell my son, Scylla that I’m proud of them! And all my people that I wish I could have done more for them. I leave the fate of us orcs in your hands, Almodea – Demoness of Fear.”

  With that, Gherdmiude closed his eyes and never opened them again. His body vanished into thin air, leaving no trace. The only thing left in that field near the smiling town was Almodea, whose face wore anything, not even the classic smile—not even a fake one.

  "Goodbye, Gherdmiude..."

  She muttered under her breath, breaking the pose she'd assumed as she took the hand in the Orc King's final moments. She stood up and turned one last time toward the smiling town in the distance. Since when had she wanted this? Not even Almodea herself knew; a lot had changed in the past few months. Had this been her father's plan when he'd put her in charge of the town of Almy? To make her understand what she wanted to do with her life besides read manga and watch anime all day?

  “...Thank you – Orc King – for making me understand what I want to be in life.”

  With that, Almodea also vanished into thin air. Her absence cast a shadow over that beautiful dream, bringing its end.