Biting Down on the Gun Barrel
I clenched my teeth so hard it felt like they might shatter. I'd steeled myself for death, thrusting my sword forward, but Rascal didn't charge any closer. It had barreled toward me before slamming on the brakes with its own paws—that much was clear. Having braced for the worst only for the situation to flip so suddenly was enough to unravel anyone's tension completely.
"What the hell...?"
I stared at it in dumbfounded bewilderment, and that's when I realized Rascal's gaze wasn't on me anymore. Hostility, revenge for its kin—none of that mattered. It was acting like it had spotted something far more urgent than any of that.
Should I feel insulted at being suddenly ignored, or relieved? I just gawked blankly at Rascal's movements. As it relaxed its stance with heavy pants, it suddenly lurched as if seizing my lapse in guard, howling skyward.
Awoooooooo!
The cry was far louder than any meant to rally its pack—it hit so hard I instinctively crouched low and clapped my hands over my ears. My eardrums felt like they might burst; my whole body tingled from the sheer force.
"Ugh...!"
What was this? More kin nearby? Or some other magic beast not under its command? Tension gripped me again, and I swallowed hard.
But Rascal's howl meant something else entirely. With a guttural growl, it slammed its paws into the ground and bolted. I'd let my guard down. My head snapped back from the impact as it rammed me, eyes widening, face twisting in pain.
"Gah! This is insane...!"
As I was flung to its side, I slammed the sword gripped tight in my right hand into Rascal's flank. The beast twisted, but I wasn't letting go. I'd half-caught it already, and if it escaped to rally more kin and grow stronger through cannibalism, I might not stand a chance next time. No matter how much mana I gathered, I could only win a one-on-one against the Demon King. Against an army like this, I had no way to fight them all at once—so I had to thin their numbers while I could, even like this.
Besides, a mana stone from a beast this big would surely give me a shot at powering up. That lingering greed made my trembling hands grab fistfuls of its fur. The stab wound in my side, hastily stanched, throbbed with the shakes. Groaning, I wondered where this thing was racing to—fear bubbled up from not knowing.
But pulling the sword to stab its back wasn't an option. The moment I let go, I'd tumble off with its shaking and roll across the ground. Even if I killed it, if it flung me off and targeted me again as prey, I'd be in no shape to fight after hitting the dirt hard.
So if it headed somewhere dangerous, I'd wait for a curve where its speed slowed, then release and flee. Clutching the blade plunged into Rascal, I held on tight.
Rascal's speed through the forest was breathtaking. Then—whoosh!—it burst from the trees, and the Demon Realm's sun blazed fiercely overhead, sky brilliant and clear. The vivid landscape felt almost like the fertile earth humans ravaged before destroying it entirely. I couldn't help but stare.
Not that I'd let go, of course.
It felt like we'd raced all day nonstop. The mad beast just charged straight ahead. My mind grew more tangled with every mile. We kept plunging deeper, missing any chance to dismount, so clinging on felt like the only option—my insides burned with frustration.
I'm not ready yet.
If Lobelia's some freakish otherworldly thing, I might just die. Anxiety swallowed me whole.
*
I hope this works. My heart's pounding.
I'd been stuck in this mansion, unable to leave or relax, camping by the door to summon Rascal, ride it out, and search for Kudbeka. For the first time—the first time—I was taking action myself. Excitement bubbled up faintly.
But so did anxiety. What if something happened to Kudbeka? If he was suffering like me, I wished Rascal would rip the culprit apart instead. Honestly, humans terrified me. Even as a former human myself, I was a demon now, and these people loathed my kind.
I had no expectations left from them. Treat me kindly? Like a human? All delusions. That so-called hero had tormented me relentlessly. Back then, I'd been too scared to endure it, but now, calmer, I could've spat in his face and cursed him out.
He'd raped me again under the guise of "reward," then pulled that fake remorse, handing over clothes and blankets like I'd be grateful. What a psycho. Because of him, even sleeping in bed terrified me—and now, even on the floor, nightmares plagued me. Every morning, I dragged my sweat-soaked body through this so-called Demon King's Castle, a grueling ordeal.
But I had to. In case Kudbeka returned.
He was later than me, and if he still hadn't shown, something must've happened. So first, head to Bellante. There'd be clues, and maybe in Luplettas too—our last parting was there.
Nodding firmly at my plan, I resolved to head out, a smile tugging my lips—when a howl pierced from outside. Awoooo!
"...Ah!"
Rascal! Time to dress and go—then knocking at the door.
Eh? Knocking? Rascal's a beast; it waits outside. Someone with it? No way... no way?
Heart bursting with hope, I rushed over and flung the door open. "Kudbeka?!"
Not Kudbeka. A familiar man, drenched head to toe in blood, unrecognizable.
"...Lobelia."
His voice froze my mind. Why—why was he here? Where's Kudbeka? Why'd Rascal bring this guy here? To kill him? I can't—I don't have that power.
Dread crashed over me. Memories of torment flooded back, body turning to stone. Why was the hero here? To drag me back?
Lips trembling, "P-please... spare..." Words failed. Terror made me stagger back, collapsing soon after.
"Hic, h-heep, I-I'm sorry, s-s-so sorry...! P-please, spare me. Please, I-I did everything wrong...!"
His bloodied state looked like he'd bathed in magic beast gore—a demon slayer straight out of nightmares. Tremors wouldn't stop. I stammered desperately, squeezing out words through whimpers, eyes wide in horror.
As I stared at the hero in fear, he stepped forward—splash—sticky blood trailing. With that one step, escape forgotten, I gaped blankly, then shuddered violently.
Terror peaked; urine leaked out. Shame burned with the fear. Face flushing, tears streaming, I sobbed hysterically.
"I'm sorry! Spare me! I-I must've gone mad! I opened my eyes and was here...! I'm sorry...! Please spare me...! I don't wanna die, don't wanna starve, didn't wanna go back...! P-please spare me! Anything, anything, I'll do it... Heh, heh, I'll lick it. N-no screaming, promise. R-right? I don't wanna die... D-don't sell me to people... Hic, sob sob."
Ignoring the filth soaking my lower half, I crawled forward, begging. Pathetic, idiotic words spilled out. But I trembled at the revenge he'd wreak.
My hands shook endlessly. He'd come here bloodied, enduring agony—pure rage. He'd already planned my punishment.
I knew medieval tortures, even in my ignorant world—brutal devices. A simple blade might be mercy. Unknown horrors terrified me more. Ignoring the squelching, I crawled to his feet. Kiss his shoes, maybe he'll spare me?
His hand rose. "Hic, I-I'm sorry...!"
Body jolting, his hand paused. He straightened, face crumpling—not in anger, but emotion. I'm the one who wants to cry. Trembling, tears flowing, I forced my drooping head up to meet his gaze, dragging my eyes back when they fled. Smear of snot and tears be damned, I forced a grin to appease him.
"Heh, heh-heh. I-I'll give you this mansion too..."
Pathetic, even to me. Offer anything, even the house—ridiculous. But I was dead serious. Or bite my tongue now? Movies lied; survival odds sucked, not worth the pain.
As wild thoughts raced, his mouth opened slowly. I fixated. Please spare me, forgive me—cowardly pleas slithered up.
But his words weren't judgment. A question.
"Who are you?"
"...Huh?"
Mind blanked. While I'd moped lonely and bored here, he'd investigated, probing sharply now.
He knew this was the Demon King's Castle—maybe testing. Answer honestly as a slave? Trembling lips moved, tears unchecked.
"I-I'm... L-Lobelia Yuris..."
I named myself.
"The Demon King?"
Terrorizing follow-up. Beyond slave honesty—this asked if I was his enemy. He knew the answer; he was just deciding my fate.
Honesty for quick death? No handover for torture? A second stretched eternally. Cold sweat trickled down my back, chills racking my feverish body like ice. Life flashing? Made sense—I had mana now. Not powerless.
Enough to open doors, slice meat—but not kill a hero. Fine. No spells on him anyway. Voice steadied with resolve. I grinned.
"...Y-yes. I'm the Demon King."
I mimed a gun with my fingers, pressing to my temple. Atheist here. No God. No heaven, hell, reincarnation. Death meant void—my conviction. I'd vowed once to flip this, live better next life. Failed. No next life needed. No confidence anyway. Look at me now.
God shouldn't exist. Then I'd rest easy. Genuine smile now—not forced.
"W-wait just...!"
Bang—!