Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

“—No, the ears are too short, and the build is quite solid.”
“I see… a half-elf, then. In that case, their true identity must be…”

King Aulanthia’s calm observation was met with Emil nodding in understanding.
Meanwhile, the man pointing a murderous blade at Euphemia—the one who could only be called a half-dark elf—spat with visible irritation.

“We are warriors of the Demihuman Liberation Front!!”

A man among the assailants, boasting an especially massive frame and adorned with the impressive horns of a bull beastfolk, stepped forward to declare himself.

The others echoed him.

“Freedom for our oppressed brethren! Justice upon the culprits of still-persistent slavery! Punish Aulanthia, the powerful lord of the Livitium Imperial Kingdom! This is divine retribution!!”
“““““Exactly!”””””
“Death to the false shrine maiden Clara and her puppets! Their lies to abolish slavery! Their failure to change the status quo!”
“Teach the new Shrine Maiden a lesson! This is a warning!!”
“““““Right! Right!!!”””””

King Aulanthia listened to their proclamations with an unbothered expression, but when they seemed to finish their outburst, he let out a weary sigh.

“…Really. Resorting to force just because your arguments don’t get through? How childish. And what do you even mean by freedom and equality? Humans themselves aren’t equal… Honestly, it’s only because of people like you that Clara has given up on her ambition and admitted the futility of her efforts and the need for free labor. Why can’t you see that?”

“What did you just say!! You—”
The bull-man’s face flushed red as he lunged forward, but before he could strike, the knights moved to intercept him, creating a tense standoff. He was quickly restrained by his fellow beastmen.

“Now, now, comrade Isaac. I told you before, nobles are small-minded lowlives. That’s why actions speak louder than words.”
“Grr… comrade Jin.”

With a sticky, menacing smile, the half-dark elf—Jin—pressed the tip of his knife against Euphemia’s neck.

“Now then, King Aulanthia. If you value the life of your youngest daughter, you surely understand what must be done, do you not?”

Should the knights prioritize protecting their master? Or protect the princess? Or consider the fatherly emotions of King Aulanthia? The knights waited, troubled, for his next words—yet,

“Before that, I have one question: since when have you been posing as the coachman? Today? Before that? Or were you pretending from the very start, biding your time in wait?”

Asked with genuine curiosity, Jin’s expression flickered for an instant, revealing a hint of surprise.

“Why ask such a thing? Ah—so you meant to stall for time? If that’s the case, it’s useless.”
“No, really, I’m just curious. It’s useful information for future security. Oh, and regarding your earlier question—You ask me whether I value Euphemia’s life, yes? In that case, I won’t be doing anything.”

King Aulanthia shrugged lightly.
Euphemia noticed the way his eyes regarded her, like one looks at a discarded plaything, and a fear distinct from the impending threat ran down her spine.

“I’m sure she understands her fate for being born into royalty. There is no point in sacrificing excellent stewards or knights for the life of a single daughter. Ten lives against one—any ruler worth his salt needn’t be asked which to prioritize.”

The matter-of-fact tone left no doubt; this was his true and bare feelings… And there was no room for negotiation.

“And you call yourself a Father?!” the bull-man shouted.

“And you—threatening a child you have taken hostage—you think you’re any better?” King Aulanthia sneered in return.

“Enough of this nonsense. I, King of Aulanthia, call upon you, my friend Emil… Emil Regulus Bourne. In the name you bear—the title of Satan bestowed upon the hero of the Demon Realm Dormeet—let it be known to the marrow of these scoundrels whom they have dared bare their fangs against.”

“ “ “ “ “ “ “ “ “ “S-SATAN?!?!?!?” ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ”

Enemy and ally alike—even Euphemia, who was being held hostage—froze as if bound by chains at those words.
In the same instant, an overwhelming torrent of mana burst forth from within Emil’s body that even the beastfolks—who had little affinity for sensing magic—could clearly perceive it. Their fur stood on end as if shocked by lightning.

The knights and the terrorists alike staggered backward, driven by primal fear.
Only one man, the half-dark elf Jin, managed to remain in place. His face was comparatively calm, though cold sweat poured down his cheeks.

“Satan—the Demon King? Quite the ridiculous ace you have hidden up your sleeve. As expected of the famed King Aulanthia. Guess you’re not going down easily.”
“Of course. One must always keep a trump card.”
“I see. That is only natural. But, King Aulanthia—you weren’t the only one hiding a trump card. Do you really think this location was chosen by chance? That the horses just happened to suffer heart failure here?”

At those words, King Aulanthia and Emil glanced at the collapsed, foam-flecked horses.

“Poison… Cerberus’ saliva!”
“Correct, Your Majesty. And I also had the assault squad prepare something to be brought to the place where they were hiding.”

“You mean those barrels, comrade? What was inside them? They were awfully heavy…”

Jin looked at the bull-man with open contempt.
Meanwhile, King Aulanthia and Emil stared aghast at the grass thickets where the Demihuman Liberation Front had taken position.

“Truly, you are a dull ox to the core. Well, no matter—you did the minimum I required.”
“W-What did you say, Jin, you cur!?”
“Oh yes, one last thing: I never liked you. And truth be told, I’ve never had the slightest interest in raising the status of demihumans to begin with.”
“Wha—!!”

Overcome with rage, Isaac shook off his comrades’ attempts to restrain him and lunged for Jin.

Before he could, Jin shoved Euphemia away with a push to her back. Isaac faltered, caught in a split-second of hesitation about what to do—and in that instant—

“O’ Ifreet!!”

Jin’s entire body swelled as if set ablaze, transforming at once into a towering giant nearly five mertes tall.
As his hand swept aside members of the Demihuman Liberation Front, it reached for the thicket behind them.

“Shoot! Those barrels must be gunp—”

Almost at the same time as Emile’s desperate cry, the grass began to burst into flames, and the next moment, a tremendous explosion shook the earth.

Jill didn’t get any screen time! She was supposed to appear in the second half!

I’ll try to post the continuation as soon as possible.

By the way, there are currently three holders of the title Satan (read: Demon King): the king of Dormeet, his adjutant, and Regulus. Dormeet has a pure demon population of about fifteen thousand, so it’s closer to a town than a kingdom.

As for Regulus—after that incident 30 years ago, he trained desperately, spent about ten years in Dormeet, and then came back. Whatever happens in the future, as long as Jill is alive, he won’t become king of Dormeet. If he were to inherit the throne when he’s older, maybe he’d call himself Great Demon King Bourne and fight heroes or something.