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The arrows made from magic would disappear after hitting their target; as a blood wound dripped from my shoulder, I quickly healed it with water magic.

At the same time, I dodged the next arrow that produced explosions in every place I passed. The man who did it seemed to be grinning with pleasure.

"Hoyah, hoyah, if not the demon mask, then who else is here?"

Honestly, this was the first time someone had called me a masked demon, and I stood up to look at the man.

He was a man in his early thirties who wore glasses and had dark white hair, and he wore a priest's robe that gave off a religious feel on some level. I can only say that he's like a Priest who is greatly admired; I can see all the soldiers saluting him.

For starters, let's start a conversation.

"Masked demon, I've never heard of such a demon?"

"Then, can you explain this?"