Became the Villainess’s Guardian

The number of individuals knowledgeable about the Demonic Tribe was considerable.

Their characteristics, combat capabilities, and national systems – core government and military figures in each nation would invariably be well-versed in such fundamental information, readily available through historical records and past research archives. The Belfast Republic, which had produced the last hero, led the vanguard in this field.

However, if limited solely to ‘combat experience against the Demonic Tribe,’
none could rival Ulr, be it Belfast or Glassgow.

When apprehending the Londinium Demonic Tribe members, had the organization’s operatives or police engaged in a mass lynching?
Their mission had entailed infiltrating human society, so barring exceptions, they hadn’t been particularly formidable adversaries for the Demonic Tribe.

Even Freugne had only participated in the pale-suited Demonic Tribe raid, where her presence had been mandatory. At best, Syphe possessed Demonic Tribe subjugation experience comparable to Ulr’s.

‘Their vigilance seems… lax.’

Nonetheless, Ulr was well aware that single-handedly confronting multiple Demonic Tribe members would not be straightforward.
Even against inebriated foes, his imperative to capture them alive negated any inherent advantages.

For an ordinary human to prevail against five opponents was already arduous. Let alone adversaries possessing inherently superior physical capabilities.

Yet conversely, his solo presence despite keenly recognizing this reality stemmed not from reckless bravado, but from self-assurance.

Instead of immediately assaulting the Demonic Tribe, Ulr decided to eavesdrop on their conversation while awaiting an opportune attack window.

“Assaulting Antrim’s prominent figures… can we really pull it off?”

“Why, getting cold feet now?”

“The Dark Lord observes us. My heart brims with devotion, leaving no room for such cowardly sentiments!”

“Quite the loyalist based on your words.”

A fact known to the heavens, the earth, and even the sea anemones dwelling in the deepest oceanic depths:
The so-called Demonic Tribe nation was an entity solely upheld by the Dark Lord’s abilities alone.

For defiant Demonic Tribe members, unfathomable magics forcibly instilled unwavering fealty, while the more compliant were subjected to subtle indoctrination.
Hence, the Demonic Tribe nation was essentially a tattered golem singularly sculpted by the Dark Lord’s will.

“If we fail, our brethren shall once again be divided and turn against each other.”

“Yet the Dark Lord must endure. At least until humanity has been utterly subjugated.”

Ulr swiftly discerned the palpable unease permeating the Demonic Tribe’s discourse.

“True. Hubert, you mentioned having an audience with the Dark Lord before. How was it?”

“Ah, nothing special. Just received some encouraging words before being dispatched to these distant lands.”

“Nothing else? No monetary rewards or learning any spells, perhaps?”

“Nothing of the sort comes to mind.”

How meaningful could such a fragile unification be if the supreme leader’s demise would cause its instantaneous dissolution?

Hence, even if the Dark Lord perished, they needed to vanquish all surrounding threats to endure until a successor emerged.
If total human extinction proved unattainable, they would at least secure a habitable dominion solely for the Demonic Tribe. Observing humanity’s relentless technological and industrial advancements, they realized this window of opportunity would not remain open indefinitely.

During the previous war, humanity had tasted the terror of annihilation, while the Demonic Tribe’s expectations of effortlessly prevailing had been shattered.
Thus, they intended to subjugate humanity before the Dark Lord’s demise, or better yet, eradicate them entirely to preclude any future resistance.

Their motivations for instigating war were understandable – not an incomprehensible mindset.

But to voice such intentions before humans – that constituted their unforgivable transgression.

Having gathered all available intelligence until the last moment, Ulr sensed the time had arrived.
He donned the anti-Demonic Tribe psychic deflection helmet provided by Carno. Beneath its ludicrous tinfoil appearance, Carno’s institute had painstakingly imbued psychic deflection magics under Freugne’s guidance.

As their conversation drifted from the Antrim assault plans towards the following day’s warehouse completion, Ulr slightly ajar the door – its weathered hinges shrieking in protest.

-Creeeeaaaak

“What was that noise? Didn’t you hear something?”

“The door opened slightly. Probably just the wind. You’re far too paranoid.”

“Nothing has happened thus far. It’s about time we grew accustomed to this, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Demonic Tribe member who had risen scratched his head before resuming his seat.
Their complacency could hardly be faulted – Antrim had harbored their spies for decades without recent incident.

Coupled with their alcohol-addled judgments and subsequent carelessness, the circumstances were perfectly aligned for Ulr.
Muffling his footsteps, he slowly raised his club towards his oblivious former comrades engaged in idle banter.

“But I can’t shake this sense that someone is-”

“Indeed.”

“?!”

The Anti-Demonic Tribe Terminator Ulr, deployed.

With only one corporeal form, Ulr could hardly drag five unconscious Demonic Tribe bodies through Antrim’s streets alone.

Hence, organization operatives had remained on standby nearby without participating in the actual confrontation.
The operatives, who had procured a nearby building as a temporary hideout adjacent to the warehouse, had discreetly witnessed the altercation, whispering in hushed tones:

“That man.”

“Ulr.”

“Yes, the one called Ulr, who came from Londinium.”

“Mind your words. He seems to hold a senior position within the organization.”

The organization lacked a defined hierarchical structure.
In reality, members seldom recognized one another, even during chance encounters.

If ranks were to be ascribed, a solitary figure occupied the pinnacle as the boss, with city- or nation-wide administrators directly receiving orders – the likes of Lord Nortorn, Commissioner Valder, or the magician Carno.

And Ulr, whom Freugne consistently assigned to the most perilous yet crucial missions, could deservedly be considered among the so-called ‘senior’ ranks.

The sole distinction was that, unlike those who directly commanded subordinates, he more frequently operated alone.

-Wham!

“Arrgghh! Aaarggghhh!!”

Exploiting the element of surprise, Ulr had downed two Demonic Tribe members before the remaining trio could retaliate, flailing wildly against their unseen assailant until one by one, they crumpled to the floor.

Assured of having subdued them all, Ulr revealed himself, prompting one of the Demonic Tribe members, sprawled limply upon the ground, to groggily open his eyes.
Unless the foreman had inexplicably orchestrated this as revenge for unpaid beer debts, or some unfathomable personal vendetta existed, only one feasible interpretation remained:

‘We’ve been discovered by the humans!’

It felt akin to a turn-based game where one’s turn never arrived.
Throwing punches into the void only invited invisible bludgeoning. Sustaining relentless one-sided beatdowns, the moment he believed he had deflected that unseen club, a blade would embed itself in the back of his neck.
Intermittent humanoid glimpses had prompted attempts at psychic assaults, but they slid off like grasping at slippery soap, infuriating in their futility.

Even after sustaining three brutal blows to the back of his skull, Hubert, the last Demonic Tribe member clinging to consciousness, inquired in a dejected tone:

“Uver, why are you here?!”

“We shall reunite shortly. But I harbor no personal animosity.”

“What does that even-”

-Whump!

“Aaarggghhh!!”

Leveraging his accumulated combat data to ascertain the precise force required for incapacitation rather than fatality, Ulr mercifully snapped Hubert’s neck with measured restraint.
While his splayed, lifeless limbs hardly portrayed vigorous health, his labored breaths confirmed he yet clung to life.

The operatives observing from afar understood implicitly:
They had been excluded not due to territorial disputes or any confidential secrets, but simply because their presence would have proven superfluous, if not obstructive.

Despite the purported noise concerns precluding firearm usage, muffled detonations echoed before Ulr emerged from the warehouse, his face spattered with the Demonic Tribe’s dusky blood.

Upon his confirming nod towards the warehouse, the operatives flinched reflexively before wordlessly dragging away the incapacitated Demonic Tribe members as if following a prearranged pact.

Recklessly provoking the Demonic Tribe lurking within Antrim could have severe repercussions.
This had been Freugne’s rationale when instructing Carno to merely monitor their activities for the time being.

However, these particular Demonic Tribe members seemed disinclined to communicate with one another, and Freugne had confirmed no untoward incidents would arise from her current course of action.
Thus, after a simple evening meal, Freugne entered an abandoned slum dwelling where Ulr awaited and inquired:

“You apprehended all five alive?”

“Indeed.”

Ulr guided the tinfoil-hatted Freugne into the basement.
Unsurprisingly, the cramped chamber housed the five restrained and squirming Demonic Tribe members.

“It couldn’t have been easy. Well done, Ulr.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Nodding, Ulr leaned against the wall, club in hand, prepared for any contingencies.

“Are you all awake?”

“Mmph?”

“I suppose I can’t get any answers like this. One moment……”

Freugne removed the gag from one of the Demonic Tribe members.
She had much to ask them: their comrades’ whereabouts, future plans, whether they intended to persist in targeting Edan, and so on. She needed to secure her and Edan’s safety in Antrim.

And once she had gleaned that information, tonight, when Edan returned to the hotel…
She intended to lay bare the situation and candidly reveal her true identity to him.

‘I hope Uncle doesn’t resent me.’

Admittedly, part of her wished to remain the innocuous Freugne in Edan’s eyes.
Yet she also disliked perpetuating any deceptions and, as a central figure in the recent assault, preferred to disclose the truth preemptively before potential ramifications ensued.

‘Perhaps this is for the best. This is the right approach.’

For love obtained through sincerity would be more valuable than love preserved through falsehoods.
And Freugne yearned for an even deeper bond with Edan than their current relationship.