Pandemonium (5)
"Well, it's a common enough story," Edward said, wrapping up his tale on a cheerful note, perhaps sensing the mood beginning to dip. "If you ask around among the awakened Demon Lords on the gallery, you'll hear plenty just like it. Honestly, compared to them, I got off pretty easy, don't you think?"
"Well, Uncle Edward, your world doesn't have a Hero, so you really do have it good," Leon chimed in, catching on to Edward's desire to lighten the mood and steering the banter somewhere lively. "Look at poor Ferma over here—the guy's practically going bald over one single Hero—"
"I am not balding, you bastard."
Thanks to Ferma hurling a bar snack across the table and Leon relentlessly poking at his nerves, it didn't take long for the tension to break, dissolving into boisterous, friendly chaos.
"—So you're saying your handle, Retry, is literally what you do?"
"Yeah. I'm stuck endlessly retrying against a Hero."
"What attempt are you on now? Three thousand?"
"Right before I showed up to this assembly, it was attempt number 3,274. I've finally managed to survive a full year this time."
Of all the conversations around the table, the most fascinating by far belonged to Retry—Ferma. On the gallery, he spent all day spamming posts about being hunted by a Hero and crying out for someone to save him. Seeing him in person, carrying himself with such stoic gravitas, had been surprising enough, but what truly floored me was hearing the nature of his authority.
Regression. Specifically, near-infinite regression with zero conditions and zero risk.
It was a ridiculously broken cheat ability, the kind reserved for the protagonist of an epic saga. Unfortunately, his opponent was the problem.
"At this rate, wouldn't it be faster for that Hero to just ascend to godhood?"
"Tell me about it. I swear, I don't understand why a monster like that had to spawn in my dimension of all places."
According to Ferma, this Hero possessed swordsmanship on par with—or perhaps exceeding—Leon and Moses, while his magic resistance and physical durability bordered on that of a Second-Rank Angel from the Heavenly Realm. Leon even chipped in with his own appraisal: if that Hero ever launched an assault on Pandemonium, roughly ninety percent of the Demon Lords here would be wiped out.
"If the guy at least used the Hero Gallery and gained temporal absoluteness, he would've noticed my regressions. Then we could settle things once and for all, or he'd hop off to another dimension. But no, of course he doesn't use the damn forum..."
To make matters worse, despite his sheer strength, the Hero possessed absolutely no resistance to temporal manipulation, meaning he remained blissfully unaware of each reset. No matter how many times Ferma regressed, he was condemned to struggle tooth and nail just to survive against a relentless hunter who came for his head every single time.
"Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier to just roll over and die. But then I think about those gallery bastards laughing at my corpse, and the sheer rage keeps me going."
"...Hang in there, man."
"Hey! Three more tankards of mead over here!"
We drank and ate, reveling in the afterparty of the Pandemonium assembly. But right in the middle of it—
"...?"
The moment I brought the newly refilled cup Leon had handed me to my lips, I noticed the tavern had fallen unnervingly quiet. Just seconds ago, the raucous banter of Demon Lords, the clattering of tableware, and the shattering of glassware had echoed loud enough to split eardrums. Now, an eerie stillness blanketed the room.
"What the—"
A chill ran down my spine. When I turned my head, my eyes widened at the sight.
Leon, who had just been loudly laughing and guzzling alcohol directly across from me, was frozen solid with his cup tipped against his mouth. And he wasn't the only one. Beside me, Old Man Moses remained fixed mid-smile, his warm expression locked in place. Edward and Ferma sat petrified, cups suspended in their hands. A service droid carrying plates stood frozen in an awkward stride, and a plate hurled across the room hung motionless in midair as though pinned to empty space.
Time itself had ground to a halt.
"What is this...?"
I pushed back my chair and scrambled to my feet, surveying the room. Every living creature, every particle of matter within my sight—without exception—had stopped moving. The frozen chamber was not merely quiet; it radiated a suffocating, terrifying silence. It was the kind of void that threatened to unravel your sanity if you didn't hear the sound of your own voice.
"Is anybody there?!"
Calling out inside a time stop was utterly absurd, but despite knowing full well how foolish it was, I couldn't help shouting at the top of my lungs. The sheer unreality of the situation was suffocating; if I didn't yell, I feared I wouldn't be able to tell whether I was awake or trapped in a nightmare.
"There's no need to shout so loudly. My apologies for startling you."
To my utter shock, someone actually answered.
I snapped my senses toward the voice, detecting a presence near the tavern entrance. The crisp cadence of dress shoes tapping against the tiled floor drew nearer, and soon, a man stepped into view. Draped in a formal overcoat over an immaculate, pure white dress shirt, he carried an air of profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
"I am the Chairman of Pandemonium, Solomon. It is a pleasure to meet you, fledgling Demon Lord Shin Soohyun."
It was Solomon—the ruler of Pandemonium and the Chief Manager of the Demon Lord Gallery.
"...Er, hello. What brings you here—"
Was it the fact that time had stopped, or the sheer stature of the entity standing before me? I couldn't say for certain, but one thing was undeniably clear: the pressure weighing down on me was suffocating.
"No need to be tense. I merely came seeking a favor."
"Ah... right..."
He told me not to tense up, but how could anyone stay calm in a situation like this? This was the Chief Manager, Solomon—the man who ruled over thousands upon thousands of Demon Lords with something verging on an iron fist. Just knowing who stood before me sent cold sweat trickling down my back.
Even setting aside his terrifying reputation, the presence Solomon exuded was profoundly bizarre. From supreme powerhouses like Leon and Old Man Moses down to the beasts crawling out of Gates, every living being gave off a distinct presence, an aura. Even inanimate objects like service droids or roadside pebbles held a certain weight of existence. Yet from Solomon, I felt absolutely nothing. It was as if he did not belong to this world at all.
"This is a conversation that must not be overheard by anyone else, which is why I took the liberty of paying you a visit in this manner. Once again, forgive the intrusion."
"...It's fine."
"The reason I sought you out is simple: I would like to request your cooperation. Moving forward, your role promises to become rather critical."
"My role?"
I couldn't help but wonder. Compared to Solomon, wasn't I little more than a speck of dust? With no overwhelming strength, no brilliant intellect, and no vast network of connections, it was only natural to doubt whether someone like me could hold any value to him.
"Objective self-awareness is an admirable trait, but do not view yourself through such a pessimistic lens. I truly require your assistance, which is why I halted time just to speak with you."
Seeing Solomon speak with such utter gravity, I paused to ponder the situation. My meager psychic abilities and my status as a fledgling Demon Lord were nowhere near heavy enough to tip the scales of a request from someone like him.
Except for one thing. There was a single trait that belonged to me and me alone.
"...Does this have to do with my home dimension?"
An unprecedented trait: hailing from the Depth 100s. Across the entirety of the Demon Lord Gallery, I was the sole individual who held the distinction of originating from Dimensional Depth 100.
"I am glad you catch on so quickly. Indeed. This concerns your dimension."
A fleeting smile broke across Solomon's weary face before it settled back into its customary exhaustion.
"In the near future, I will likely need to use your home dimension as a relay dimension. Don't let the term intimidate you—in terms of your world's concepts, you can think of it as a telecommunications base station."
"A base station?"
"We require an interdimensional communication network independent of the Demon Lord Gallery. The issue is that outside of the gallery, virtually no method exists that can bypass latency and the interference of Causality."
"And the solution to that problem is my world?"
"Precisely."
I didn't know the exact reason he wanted an auxiliary system when an exceptional communication medium like the Demon Lord Gallery already existed, but I could make an educated guess. In my experience, there was usually only one reason to bypass an established network: an impending war, or an untrustworthy traitor lurking within your own ranks. Combine that with the amendments discussed at the assembly and Leon's remarks, and only one conclusion remained.
Most likely...
"Your deduction is correct," Solomon said, as if reading my thoughts. "In the near future, we will clash with the Heroes, and we must put our house in order in preparation. Is that explanation sufficient?"
"Yes."
To be blunt, I felt dizzy just trying to process it. I hadn't even fully settled into the title of Demon Lord yet, so hearing talk of impending wars with Heroes felt surreal. But since I had ascended to this position and joined the Demon Lord Gallery, I was determined to at least pretend I belonged. Granted, deep down, I harbored the selfish wish that this whole business with 'Heroes' would never touch my home dimension.
"Then may I assume you'll accept—"
"Forgive me, but there is one question I'd like to ask first."
Cutting off Solomon before he could smoothly hand off the request, I drew a steady breath. What I was about to say was a gamble.
"What do I stand to gain by granting this favor? Forgive me for being blunt, but asking for something without offering anything in return doesn't seem very fitting for a Demon Lord."
If reading countless posts on the gallery and listening to Odin's advice had taught me anything, it was this: never let other Demon Lords take you for a fool. Even if that person was Solomon, the Chief Manager and Chairman of Pandemonium himself, that rule remained unbroken.
"Haha—"
Solomon's eyes widened in genuine surprise, and he burst into laughter. Was that a chuckle of admiration, or the incredulous laugh of disbelief? I didn't have to wait long for the answer.
"My mistake. You are strictly the principal party here, and I am the petitioner—it was rude of me to speak as if it were otherwise. I had momentarily forgotten this is a contract. Forgive me once more."
"It's fine."
"So, you wish to know what you will receive? First, I intend to discreetly transfer partial managerial authority over the gallery to you. Furthermore, I will grant you access to the archives database of the Great Library of Pandemonium. From what I understand, it contains a fair amount of knowledge that would prove useful even in your world."
Solomon wasn't finished.
"Finally, I will grant you a single opportunity to summon me. And not merely summon me—I will grant you one wish."
"..."
It was a staggering offer. Partial moderation privileges and database access were valuable enough, but what truly struck me dumb was what he offered next.
Even as a greenhorn to the Demon Lord Gallery, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: this held astronomical value.
"Ah, of course, even if I am summoned to your dimension, the scope of the wish will be bound within the laws of Causality."
Granted, Causality was a constraint, but even with that caveat, it was an unfathomably generous reward—so generous that it bordered on suspicious. That was why I had to ask:
"Isn't that an excessive reward? Is turning my world into a relay dimension really worth that much?"
Hearing the skepticism in my voice, Solomon chuckled softly.
"It is natural to be suspicious. But I swear upon the Scales, this is no deceitful contract. To be entirely frank, it is only because of your appearance that a plan that once existed purely in theory has become feasible."
"Pardon?"
"Do not doubt it. Your dimension is worth every bit of that price. However... it does not come entirely without a cost."
Solomon placed deliberate emphasis on the word 'cost,' as though urging me to pay close attention.
"A cost?"
"You might call it a side effect of the contract for the relay dimension. In truth, it is a minor thing: the Causality Correction regarding the 'Hero' of your dimension will increase slightly."
"A Hero...?"
"But your dimension doesn't have a Hero, does it? So for you, it is essentially a penalty of zero consequence."
Finishing his explanation, Solomon gave a slight grin. It was a smile that looked utterly pure, completely refreshing.