Canon Omake: Meeting Past Self

Thunder rolled, and rain poured down. Sheets of water blanketed the unnamed valley, and in a thick, lush forest, thunder boomed, shaking the ancient trees to their roots. One particularly loud thunderclap split the air, and, in an instant, smoke curled upward from a towering, century-old tree, its trunk splintered in two. Flames sparked at its core, flickering defiantly against the rain's deluge before vanishing into steam. With a tremendous crack, the tree groaned and toppled, crashing to the ground in a chaotic spray of mud and broken branches.

In this forest, such a violent occurrence was trivial—a mere footnote in the thunderstorm-filled histories of the centuries-old trees. Yet, after the storm passed and sunlight crept back into the forest, an eerie quiet fell over the area. Something was amiss. Lying beneath the fallen trunk was a small, horned figure pinned down, limbs sprawled in the mud. Wisps of purple hair framed a young face, childlike yet slightly unsettling in its stillness. The creature's two rounded horns, glistening with droplets, poked up from her head, twisted and sturdy.

The unfortunate young demon had taken the brunt of the tree's weight against her torso. While the heavy wood hadn't crushed her completely, her lower body was trapped, and every movement only brought searing pain. She grit her teeth, her breaths coming in quick, shallow pants as she wrestled with the discomfort and frustration of her situation.

At first, the creature screamed...

But it stopped screaming after a while. 　　

The little demons have a far greater endurance than human children. Although their bodies are in great pain, they can endure the pain when crying cannot attract help.

Her voice was low but tinged with dry humor as she whispered to herself, "Of course... there are no humans around. If only there were, I could cry and pretend to be helpless. They'd rush over—stumbling through the trees, so eager to save even a demon child if she looked innocent enough."

She smirked, remembering the countless times she had escaped harm by playing the innocent. But this forest, she knew, was far from human settlements. Any sound she made here would be far more likely to attract the keen ears of predatory beasts than a compassionate passerby.

In a low voice, almost as if reminding herself, she muttered, "Out here, it's better to stay silent. A wild beast wouldn't see a trapped demon as anything but an easy meal."

The young demon had already discovered that humans, when faced with beings resembling their young, exhibited remarkable tolerance. Unlike their immediate lethal response to adult demons, humans would try to coax her toward kindness.

Of course, she eventually managed to escape.

But with mindless, unfeeling wild beasts in the forest, who only knew hunger, a young demon like her was nothing more than a delicacy. She was tender and unable to resist due to her limited mana.

No amount of crying would stir compassion in these heartless beasts.

Snap—

A branch snapped in the underbrush, its crack splitting the heavy silence of the storm. The young demon's ear flicked toward the sound, her pupils dilating in instinctive fear.

She regretted not holding back her cries sooner.

She cursed herself, feeling the weight of the fallen tree pinning her lower half even more acutely. Its charred bark, dark and brittle from the lightning strike, pressed hard against her small frame, sending pulses of pain through her body with every shallow breath she took. She clawed desperately at the ground, fingers digging into the wet earth, but the trunk didn't budge. It was heavier than anything she had ever encountered, and in her current state, with her strength still too weak to break free, she was trapped.

Demons were known for their strength, but that strength was relative to age. A demon under a century old, like her, was comparable to a human child in terms of physical capacity. Even her natural affinity for magic was unstable at best, and her mana reserves were dangerously low. She couldn't fight this. The heavy trunk, scorched and now immovable, was more than she could ever hope to overcome alone.

'If only I had waited'... she thought, swallowing back the instinct to scream. There were no humans here, she realized bitterly. The forest was too remote, too forgotten by their kind. She couldn't risk attracting the wrong attention.

But then the sound came again—closer this time.

Her ears shot up, her entire body stiffening as she desperately held her breath. The quiet hum of the forest shifted into a predatory stillness. Whatever was coming was closing in, and she couldn't move, couldn't escape.

She tried to still her breathing, her small chest rising and falling erratically as her eyes darted around, scanning the dense thicket. But it was hopeless. The approaching creature had already scented her, drawn to the faintest whisper of her presence. The rustle of leaves stilled, and for a moment, everything seemed to hold its breath. Then the creature moved forward with slow, deliberate steps.

It was over.

The young demon's heart raced, each thud of her pulse loud in her ears. She felt its presence before it came into view, the air shifting around it like the darkness of a storm cloud. She didn't have to look up to feel the weight of its approach. But still, her eyes lifted—one last desperate hope.

Black boots. Tall. Human, yes, they were definitely human.

'Lucky'...

The young demon squinted, confident that with her acting skills, she could deceive the human into saving her.

As for what she'd do after?

In this remote forest, with the human all alone, she certainly wouldn't waste the chance to enjoy the meal offered to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, gathering her strength. Now, she had to play the part, use all the tricks she had learned to deceive a human into helping her. She was small, weak, and pitiful in her current state—perfect for a sympathetic human to come to her aid.

"It hurts… please, save me…"

The young demon's voice trembled, her words barely a whisper. With all her remaining strength, she stretched out her trembling hand and clutched the boot in front of her, fingers curling around the smooth leather as if it were her last hope. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting fat, glistening tears slip down her cheeks, painting her face in a perfect mask of helplessness. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, punctuated by small, pitiful gasps as she tried to make herself look as fragile as possible. If this was a human, perhaps they would pity her, perhaps they would even help her.

The figure above her stayed silent, merely watching, and that silence stirred something unnerving in her. Bracing herself, she lifted her gaze, but when her eyes met the figure's face, her hope withered. Large horns curled up from the stranger's head, casting a shadow over their sharp features.

It was over.

It wasn't a human.

Her plea for mercy froze on her lips, terror replacing the pitiful façade she had worn moments before. The figure looming over her wasn't human nor beast—it was something far worse.

A demon. A demon like her.

She knew immediately that tears and wails were useless here; the one before her would see through it all. She was dealing with a being who could understand her mind, a being who had likely encountered these tactics countless times before and wasn't moved in the slightest.

Among demons, there was no concept of mercy, no compassion for kin. Demons regarded each other as tools, or threats, or rivals. Compassion was weakness. And if she had crossed into this demon's territory, she knew what was coming next. She'd be killed outright, with no fanfare, her existence erased as easily as a stray insect crushed underfoot.

But then, something caught her eye—a face that was so oddly, hauntingly familiar. The shape of the eyes, the sharp, precise angles of the jaw… if not for the dark, jagged scar that marred the left side of the stranger's face, they would have been identical. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected the future.

"Are you… my mom?" The young demon's voice was barely more than a whisper, her head tilting, her confusion overwhelming her fear for a moment.

The older demon scoffed, her lips curling into a sneer of amused disdain. "Where did this foolish child come from, calling me 'mom'?" Aura kicked her past self lightly.

Not for any reason—she just felt like doing it.

For a high-ranking demon dealing with a lower-ranking intruder, a light kick was merciful. Ordinarily, the demon might kick the intruder's head off.

The younger demon lay stunned, her wide eyes losing the spark of admiration and recognition that had flared briefly. She averted her gaze, her heart pounding as she realized her mistake. Among demons, respect was earned through strength and cold indifference, not inquiring after relationships or ancestry. Demons did not believe in the ties of blood or kin; they believed in the harshness of survival.

She clenched her fists, swallowing down her shame and anger. The similarity in their faces no longer mattered. All that mattered now was survival—and if she could gain this older demon's help, perhaps she could survive.

It wasn't unheard of for demons to look alike.

After all, demons' appearances were modeled after humans.

"Please, help me." The young demon lowered her head, begging. At this point, she had no choice but to hope for the mercy of the demon in front of her.

"Ohoho, please~please~help~me, when did the demon start to cry so much? "

The young demon's tearful plea had no effect on Aura. Once, this technique of crying was Aura's secret survival tactic—since demons don't normally cry, even when pleading, they only recite empty words. But Aura, even as a child, had mastered the art of mimicking human tears. This skill had saved her countless times from powerful human mages, making it her proudest ability aside from obedience magic.

However, over time, Aura's constant practice of begging through tears had hardened her heart. Even her own past tears seemed to her now as little more than exaggerated acting. Demons were cold-blooded and merciless with each other; lesser demons were just tools to stronger ones. And Aura was the coldest of them all, showing no mercy even to her younger self. To her, that past self was merely a vessel carrying the obedience spell.

"…Are you going to kill me?" The young demon asked, trembling when her crying and pleading proved useless.

"If you don't behave, I will," Aura replied, her voice cutting through the air with an edge as sharp as a blade. She crouched down, the motion slow, almost calculated. The young demon flinched, watching helplessly as Aura reached for the thick tree branch pinning her to the ground. With a single motion, Aura lifted it and tossed it aside with effortless strength.

The younger demon tried to scramble back, but in the next instant, Aura's cold, iron grip closed around her collar. Before she could process what was happening, she found herself tucked firmly under the older demon's armpit, like an unruly package.

Caught by the bad demon… The young demon whimpered. She felt as though this older demon could see right through her every thought. The attempts to call her "Mom" had failed, her tearful pleading had proven useless—no matter how exaggerated her tears, this demon wasn't moved. 

Even other demons would sometimes pause, if only out of curiosity, when she put on her tearful performance, often giving her a moment's advantage to slip away. But not this one. This demon saw through everything, dismissing her pleas as though they were nothing more than irritating noise.

The young demon clenched her fists, glaring at Aura's profile as they walked. 'I hope you get caught by humans, she thought angrily. I hope they ignore your pleas and make you tremble, helpless, as they tell you you're going to die…'

—

Aura's lips twitched, a faint smile hidden in the shadows as they walked. She didn't need her younger self to say anything; she knew exactly what thoughts were racing through that small, frustrated mind. She could see the anger, the resentment, the raw determination mixed with fear—all things she'd once felt so vividly herself. This was precisely why she had come at this moment.

Aura had chosen this time, this exact place, because she knew herself. She knew that if she had come at any other point, her younger self would have been too quick, too wary, and would have vanished before Aura could so much as take a step toward her.

Back then, she had been clever in the way only the weak could be—constantly alert, quick to judge the strength of others, and, when needed, quick to flee. It was a skill honed from endless nights hiding from the dangers, a talent to survive by any means necessary. That skill was something the present Aura had almost forgotten after centuries of wielding immense power.

But here, in this precise moment, she knew her younger self wouldn't be able to escape. Here, in this vulnerable, desperate instant, she could finally catch herself. And now that she had her, there was no letting go.

With the young demon slung under her arm, Aura moved steadily through the forest. Her pace was unhurried but firm, each step echoing with a quiet resolve. The dense woods soon gave way to rugged mountains, and then to open, sweeping valleys. She crossed rivers and climbed steep paths, never slowing, never faltering.

The young demon stopped struggling after a while, resigned but tense, her silence a defiant acceptance. She could feel the strange sense of purpose radiating from Aura as they journeyed onward, a focus that unsettled her, that made her question what this strange, ruthless demon intended to do.

After hours of traveling, Aura finally paused and arrived safety of Aura's village. There, she planned to raise her younger self's abilities. She would nurture her past self into one of the top demons, a true pillar of the demon race and a fierce enemy of humanity. This was something the current Aura hadn't achieved, but she placed her ideal self's aspirations in her past self's hands.