She Who Became Immortal

"Let me hear your name."

"Astra Ignia. The strongest warrior of Ignia. Defeated by you."

As she crawls on the ground, Astra sways her tail. It's a movement of the tail that is completely different from that of dogs or cats, not linked to emotions.

"So, what's surrendering going to do for you? We don't take prisoners. If you choose to be a warrior of the Beastmen Alliance, then we have no choice but to kill you."

"I serve you. If you don't need me, kill me."

"Hmm?"

"Warriors lose. That's following. If I die, I recognize you."

"I see."

It seems she holds such values. They are devoid of desires like domination or power from the start. They are warriors, and because they are warriors, they fight. That's what it means to be of their race. Well, probably.

They have their own discipline and standards, and Astra is sincere about it.

That was the impression.

"Very well. It means you're on our side."

"Understood. We'll become your warriors."

―As-tra-aa-ig-nya-a-aa-aa-a-a-a-a!!

A deafening roar.

Looking in that direction, Gyalan, the enemy commander who should have been caught in the explosion of the granary, was standing up, covered in blood all over his body. Just as with Zamba Broad, his whole body was transforming, changing into a form closer to a beast than a human.

"A trump card, huh?"

When transforming, he forcibly heals his body by changing its structure. It's possible that even severe injuries like lacerations or burns might be repaired.

Facing an entire army of three hundred is difficult, but facing one transformed werewolf isn't that hard.

Gyalan charges in with a roar.

Junos is about to prepare his black sword but stops.

It's because Astra, who had stood up, maneuvered his axe spear and severed Gyalan's right leg. It was an attack that was unexpected for Gyalan and natural for Astra. Astra is already "on our side."

"You... you damn lizard...! Don't you have any pride?! It's your job to take the throne of Randal! You trash lizard bastard!"

While cursing on the ground, Gyalan, with his enhanced beast-like fingers, was shouting.

His true feelings were unmistakable to Junos. But Junos could also understand that he wasn't just cursing out of anger.

Beastmen who are closer to beasts through transformation.

That's Euphemia's theory. If the weight is increased, the force generated will also increase. It's like the difference between a light hammer and a heavy hammer. They enlarge their bodies, strengthen their power, and increase their speed.

Perhaps werewolves are not good at manipulating magic compared to demons.

So, they have a means to exert their full power. And with that "full power," there is no delicate control. If they are transforming because they are bad at control, then that's what happens.

---

"Astra. Sever his left leg."

With that, Junos said.

Astra didn't even express her intention by 'nodding,' she immediately swung down her axe spear and severed Gyalan's remaining leg. Although the cut surface of the right leg was rapidly closing due to the effects of the transformation, just to be sure, and to test Astra's usefulness—it was the right decision.

Again, Gyalan's screams echoed, and despite the painfulness, the cut surface of his left leg began to close rapidly. It only took about three breaths of time until the bleeding stopped. And it seems that Gyalan's internal mana is almost depleted, as his transformation dissipates, returning to his original werewolf form.

"Damn... damn... what are you...? This isn't... who are you guys?"

His leaked words were hardly cursing anymore.

There was probably no energy and mana left. The movements of his fingers, which had been scratching the ground, also stopped, and he just looked up at Junos with powerless eyes.

Junos exhales a sigh and looks around.

The battle itself is already over, and he can see his comrades retrieving the enemy's wounded. Among the surviving enemies, those who still harbor hostility towards them are either simply being left alone or being finished off.

Those relatively lightly wounded and with lost fighting spirit are sitting there, looking at Junos. Among them are lizardmen similar to Astra.

And—Euphemia Grimwood.

The corrupt goddess walks, her golden hair dancing in the wind.

The Bernard tribe transports the wounded. Members of the Polo tribe are talking to the surviving members of the Kobold Shamal tribe. A Toras tribe woman is giving first aid to the seriously wounded. The Orc tribe remains stationed on the hill. The comrades of the demon race act as their escorts.

After swinging the unsheathed black sword once and returning it to its scabbard, Junos looks at Euphemia Grimwood walking towards them.

Just run away.

And they are no longer of the Yunofeliza tribe.

Strong, rational, resolute, and calm.

That was the Yunofeliza tribe.

"What are you guys?"

Junos knew the words to describe his current self.

He has a name for his current self.

Strong, rational, resolute, and calm?

Such fragile things are not necessary.

"It seems that's taken care of on your end as well. It's the result of my beautiful strategy, your preparedness, and the achievements of those who actually fought. You can be proud at least twice as much as I am proud," Euphemia says with a smirk or perhaps a grin.

Malicious to the core—yet her smile is so dazzling that Junos can't help but smile too.

And he said it.

"My name is Yunos Grimwoods. Whether it's Lion King or Anti-Lion Alliance, who cares? We are—'Grimoire Grimwoods.' We are the Grimoire tribe!"

More directed towards himself than anyone else.

With a loud voice, yet not shouting.

He declared it proudly.

Under the clear sky, a wolf-man crawling on the ground, busy comrades moving around, many lifeless bodies never to move again, Katarina sparkling with excitement, and Euphemia Grimwood gaping next to her.

Ah— even with such a foolish face, you're still beautiful.

Thinking that, he truly felt refreshed.

"Grimoire? Lion King, or us, the Anti-Lion Alliance... you guys, such insignificant bunch, are going to swallow that...?"

Gyalan mutters incredulously.

Junos raises the corners of his mouth and laughs heartily.

"Why would that be necessary? I don't know what you're misunderstanding, but we are not those who grasp glory. We—are—'Grimoire Grimwoods.' Even if, hypothetically, we were to quietly spend our lives in this small village, we cannot overshadow our glory."

The time for drifting along is over.

There's no need for lame excuses or pretending to be undecided.

Let's confess— we had fun.

We had fun being swayed by Euphemia Grimwood.

So, let's go with the flow, create our own flow, and ride along with it.

It will surely be enjoyable.

A sparkling future awaits.

Grimoire, the said religious book in legends that grants joy and glory to its followers.

With that alone, nothing else is needed.

The symbol of glory, the golden-haired girl, their 'Grimoire', now wears a face of disbelief. Looking around, Junos sees that his comrades are now nodding happily, seemingly without realizing it. Of course, Junos is the same. Happy, enjoying the moment, not knowing what lies ahead, just laughing.

And then—look, the 'Grimoire Grimwoods' smiled.