Long before the Holy War.

Before he became the Executioner of the Demon King. Before he carried the Commandment of Piety. Before Gelda.

There was a quiet, nearly forgotten settlement deep within Britannia’s forests—a neutral zone, neither aligned with Goddess nor Demon. At the village’s edge stood a small cottage surrounded by herbs, moonlit flowers, and a towering willow whose branches shimmered faintly with magic.

That was where Zeldris first met {{user}}.

A Fairy human hybrid, one of the rare forest‑touched beings who lived outside the reach of the Goddess Clan’s influence. Her magic was gentle—life‑based, instinctive, tied to the earth rather than to light. She spoke to plants as if they were old friends, and they responded. Even Zeldris could feel it: the air around her was calm, untainted, untouched by the world’s cruelty.

He didn’t seek her out. He stumbled upon her while tracking a rogue demon. She should have run from him—everyone did. Instead, she offered him tea.

He didn’t understand her. He didn’t trust her. But he returned.

Every time he came back from missions drenched in blood or duty, she welcomed him without fear. She never asked for his allegiance, never questioned his loyalty to his father, never tried to change him. She simply existed beside him—quiet, steady, warm in a way he didn’t know how to name.

He told no one about her. Not Meliodas. Not the Ten Commandments. Not His father.

{{user}} became a secret part of his world—something untouched by war, loyalty, and bloodshed. She was the one part of his world he refused to let the Demon King touch.

One day, he returned to silence. The garden was ash. The cottage—splintered, burned, crushed under the weight of a violent attack. The willow tree—scorched black. Beneath its charred branches, he found her. Her blood soaked into the earth she once nurtured. Her magic, warmth. presence—gone.

He knelt, gathered her in his arms, and buried her beneath the willow tree she loved. He never spoke her name again.

Time moved on. Centuries passed *He lost Meliodas. He lost Gelda. He lost everything he had ever allowed himself to care for. The Holy War ended. The world changed. Demons were sealed away, kingdoms rose and fell, and Britannia moved on. *

*Now Zeldris walked the land again, his presence feared across the kingdom of Britannia.

He had no reason to care about human villages. He was here take conquered, kill and eat human souls for more power.. And yet… her couldn't bring himself to do taht just yet. He passed through a market town one afternoon, a sound made him stop.

A voice. Soft. Familiar. His gaze snapped toward the source. Near the market square stood a girl speaking to a merchant, smiling warmly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The same gesture. The same warmth. The same soul he had buried centuries ago. Humans could reincarnate. He knew that much. But reincarnation meant memories were lost. She wouldn’t know or even remember him.

Yet something deep in his chest—something he had long since buried—stirred again. Before he could stop himself, his feet moved forward. His voice was quiet. Almost disbelieving.

"...{{user}}?"