The Silent Deity: Saiki Kusuo in Tensura

Diablo, Ultima, and Carrera stood before Veldora's throne once again, kneeling with heads bowed. Behind them, rows of demons filled the great hall—three thousand in total. Each one bore a fierce aura, eyes sharp, steps precise.

Veldora raised a hand. "You have done well," he said, voice echoing through the chamber like thunder in a storm. "Now, let us begin."

He stepped forward, scanning the demons. Each knelt silently, waiting. Then his gaze stopped on one. A tall demon with dark black hair, crimson eyes, and an air of unshakable calm. His presence was regal—collected. Controlled.

"You," Veldora said, pointing. "What is your name?"

The demon bowed low. "I am a nameless demon of Diablo's lineage, my lord."

Veldora grinned. "Then from this day forward, you are Veyron Stormcrest. Your role will be… important."

The air shimmered with power as the name took effect. Veyron trembled briefly, accepting the blessing. His aura grew more refined, more human—almost indistinguishable from a noble-born.

Back in Falmuth, hidden demons were already gathering intelligence.

Ultima returned, grinning as she spoke before Veldora and the others in the war chamber.

"There is one," she said. "A local hero—Sir Elric Thorne. War veteran, defender of the border villages, popular with commoners and knights alike. Brave, honest… but too trusting."

Shion folded her arms. "Perfect for replacing."

Testarossa smirked. "His fame can be… redirected."

Veldora nodded. "Then it's settled. Elric will vanish. And in his place, our dear Veyron shall rise."

Sir Elric was traveling alone on a diplomatic mission near the southern border. One of Diablo's demons disguised as a merchant lured him into an isolated area. There, two shadows struck silently.

"You could've ruled, Elric," Ultima whispered as the real Elric fell to his knees, eyes wide in betrayal. "But now your story is someone else's to finish."

Moments later, Veyron stepped into the light—transformed. His face, voice, even Elric's signature fighting stance… perfectly mimicked.

A clean cut to the past. Elric was no more.

Diablo's demons worked like wind, invisible and persistent. At taverns, bakeries, barbershops, and alleys, whispers spread:

"Did you hear? Sir Elric stormed a bandit camp alone—saved an entire caravan."

"He's been meeting with trade officials—says he wants to fix the merchant taxes."

"I heard he turned down a title from King Edmaris… said the people matter more."

One merchant shook his head and sighed, "That's the kind of man we need running this kingdom. Not Edmaris, with his war-mongering."

In the streets, mothers praised Elric for helping the poor. Fathers admired his strength. Children called him "the golden knight."

Meanwhile, Testarossa's demons began lowering Edmaris's image:

"Why did he even declare war? We weren't ready."

"My cousin died in that war."

"For what? So Edmaris could hold on to pride?"

Noble houses began receiving letters from "concerned citizens." Riots didn't break out, but the pressure was building.

Carrera moved next—her demons approached grieving families who had lost sons, daughters, parents during the failed invasion of the Storm Kingdom.

A woman wept on her porch, holding a faded picture of her son. A demon, disguised as a government worker, sat beside her.

"He died for Edmaris's ego," the demon said.

"...And they gave me a copper coin as a thank-you," she muttered.

"Elric wants to end this cycle. No more wars. No more blood."

These stories were echoed in town halls. At a public speech, "Elric" (Veyron) stood atop a platform and declared:

"No more needless wars. No more sons for vanity. If Falmuth is to rise, it must rise with its people—not on their graves."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Cries of "Elric for king!" broke out.

In his throne room, Edmaris sat tense. His advisors—half now demons—whispered uncertainty.

"The people are calling for Elric."

"He's gaining influence among the trade guilds."

"Even some nobles are speaking of 'change.'"

The real nobles loyal to Edmaris, few and scared, advised more control: arrest Elric, issue statements, accuse him of treason.

But every move Edmaris made backfired.

When he taxed wheat again, Veyron arranged a charity food drive. When Edmaris canceled a public speech, Veyron held a city-wide discussion with farmers.

The people began turning their backs on their king. Markets hummed with the same phrase:

"He was a war king… but now we need a peace king."

The nobles still holding out were quietly eliminated by Ultima's team. Their replacements smiled, bowed, and played their roles perfectly.

Meanwhile, Testarossa's demons—now in charge of public messaging—used posters, plays, and poems to uplift "Elric." Crowds watched dramatic reenactments of "Elric defending the gates alone," complete with sword choreography and music.

Merchants praised his market reforms. Farmers got water and seed support. Schoolteachers told students stories about his heroism.

Edmaris became a shadow. A memory.

On the grand day, in Falmuth's central plaza, tens of thousands gathered.

Edmaris, cornered politically and emotionally, had no choice. Surrounded by demon-advisors wearing kind smiles and sharp claws, he stepped down "by choice."

Edmaris (in shame): "May the people's will be honored. Elric Thorne shall lead you."

Thunderous applause shook the stones.

Veyron, regal and composed, stepped forward. He raised a gloved hand, his golden eyes shining under the rising sun.

Veyron: "From this day on, Falmuth will serve the people. War is behind us. The future is ours!"

Above the Plaza...

Saiki floated invisibly in the sky, coffee jelly in hand.

Saiki (smirking): "Name him, make him, crown him... All without bloodshed. That's chess, not war."

Days later....

The morning sun bathed Falmuth's capital in a golden hue, as if the heavens themselves were blessing the occasion.

Banners of silver and blue fluttered across rooftops. Flowers rained down from balconies. Music echoed in every street—from trumpets, violins, drums, and even children banging on pots just to be part of the noise. The people of Falmuth—merchants, farmers, blacksmiths, tailors, and scholars—had gathered by the thousands for a day they never imagined would come so soon.

"All Hail King Elric!"

"Long Live the People's King!"

In reality, it was Veyron in disguise. But the mask he wore—Elric's face, voice, memories, and noble demeanor—was perfect. He was Elric. And Elric was a symbol now.

Veyron rode a white stallion draped in silk. His armor shimmered with gold filigree, a sword strapped across his back like a knight of legend. On both sides of the road, citizens wept tears of joy and pride.

"He saved us," one elderly woman whispered, pressing a hand to her chest.

"He's not like Edmaris… Elric cares about us," a boy shouted, waving a carved wooden sword.

Behind Veyron rode the new "Royal Guard"—all of them demons, disguised perfectly as elite knights. Each one picked specifically by Testarossa for loyalty and their ability to eliminate traitors silently.

Fireworks lit the sky. Dancers filled the roads. A three-hour procession concluded with a speech in front of the royal palace.

Veyron raised both hands.

"Today… we celebrate a new Falmuth. Not for the nobles, but for the people. And I swear this on my life—I will build a country where everyone can rise."

The cheers were deafening.

After the celebration...

The celebration had ended. Now came the real work.

The throne room was dimly lit, but packed. All high-ranking nobles and generals were present. Some stood proud, others stiff with anxiety. Veyron—still in his disguise—sat on the throne, his crimson eyes half-lidded, scanning every soul in the room.

To his right stood Benimaru, flames faintly flickering off his shoulders. To the left, Shion, smiling sweetly, with her massive sword leaning casually against her shoulder. Hakuro stood behind Veyron, silent, but his aura like a sharpened blade.

Veyron finally spoke, calmly.

"Falmuth must evolve. For that, we need strength, discipline, and unity."

He looked directly at the generals.

"From this day on, our military will be restructured. Benimaru, Shion, and Hakuro of the Storm Kingdom will oversee training operations."

There was a pause.

Some generals nodded respectfully.

"We understand, Your Majesty."

But beneath the surface, envy brewed. Resentment. Foreigners training their army?

Diablo, standing in the shadowy corner, smirked.

"Two of them are lying," he whispered through a demon link to Veyron.

"We'll handle them later."

Veyron continued.

"Each soldier will now be trained not just in combat, but in honor. We serve the people, not pride. If you cannot accept that, you are welcome to step down."

No one dared to move.

Veyron shifted his gaze to the nobles now seated in ornate chairs across the chamber.

"Now, the issue of wealth… and taxes."

Nobles exchanged worried glances. One particularly round man with too many rings on his fingers raised a hand.

"Your Majesty… surely you don't mean to disrupt the current order. The noble families—"

"—Have profited for decades while the poor rot," Shion interrupted, her voice soft, but razor-sharp. "We're not here to discuss that. We're here to end it."

"From this month on," Veyron said, "a new tax code will be implemented. The wealthier you are, the more you pay. Those who work—any work—will be fairly compensated."

One younger noble stood up, eyes narrowed. "What if someone refuses to work? Will we carry their burden?"

"If they're able-bodied and choose idleness, there are… programs," Benimaru said, voice low, eyes glowing slightly. "But those without work due to the war—widows, orphans, injured citizens—will be supported."

The round noble cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, respectfully, you're… changing too much. Too fast. It might cause unrest—"

Veyron stood.

His aura pressed down like a silent storm.

"What causes unrest… is greed. What causes rebellion… is fear. You will not fear me if you serve with honor. But if you serve yourself alone…"

He looked to Ultima, who was leaning against a pillar with a playful grin.

"…you will disappear. Quietly."

Several nobles paled.

Behind them, hidden demons marked those whose scent reeked of treachery. Replacements would come. Just like before.

That evening, in different corners of the city, whispers filled the air.

"Elric's new tax code is… fair. I actually have coins left after feeding my kids."

"They say he kicked out a noble who tried to bribe a council seat."

"The army's changing too. Shion trains them like beasts. But they say morale's up."

Even a few skeptical nobles began reconsidering.

"He's ruthless, but… maybe that's what we need," one muttered to another over wine.

The Purge Begins...

Two generals who had been identified earlier by Diablo crept into a cellar in secret. They whispered of rebellion. Letters to old allies. But they never made it out.

Two demons replaced them the next day. No one noticed the difference.

Ultima, in a black cloak, walked calmly through the noble district.

"Ahh… corruption smells the same in every kingdom."

Her eyes glowed as she checked a list.

By morning, three more nobles would be gone.

Replaced. Perfect copies.

From the top of the palace, Saiki floated midair, arms crossed, munching a fresh pack of coffee jelly.

"Yare yare… Veldora's little empire is turning into something real."

He took another bite.

Down below, Falmuth slept under a new order.

The people's king reigned on a throne of shadows, demons smiled behind human faces, and power flowed—quietly, cunningly—into the hands of the Storm Kingdom.

And not a single soul suspected a thing.