I Am a Demon, Not a Monster

I'm a demon. Not a monster.

“Soft newbies! Starting now, we're doing an equipment inspection, nyang! Hand over everything you've got, nyang!”

The gray cat flashed her bright yellow eyes, greedily eyeing the gear of the poor newcomers. Had she finally shown her true colors?

“...Thief.”

“She's perfectly suited for it.”

“Stop talking nonsense and pull out your equipment already, nyang!”

Overwhelmed by the veteran's roar, the two newbies wiped cold sweat from their brows and began laying out everything they carried.

“I've taken everything out.”

“....”

It took roughly thirty seconds. Sion seemed speechless, perhaps impressed by movements sharper than an A-rank soldier.

This was the contractor's full inventory. Next came mine.

A small problem had arisen. No—correction. A very big problem had arisen.

For some reason, the damn equipment refused to emerge from my inventory.

Stop messing around and come out already. I'm seriously about to cry.

“...Nyaang. Have these all lost their minds together, nyang? Is this really everything? No armor, no potions, no bandages, no lantern, no spare rations.... There's literally nothing here, nyang. What kind of training did the guild even give them, nyang? These aren't adventurers—they're suicide hopefuls, nyang?”

Sion's eyes clouded with pity.

But compared to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the storm raging inside me, her pity was no different from that of an ordinary person.

What the hell? Are you mocking me right now?

In an instant my body temperature shot past forty degrees Celsius. The rage was so violent I half-expected steam to rise from my forehead.

What is this?

Every weapon I had farmed across decades in the danger zones was gone. And it wasn't only the weapons. Even consumables like regeneration shots and enhancement shots had been completely wiped out.

Was this equivalent exchange? They gave me a new life, so they took my children in return?

Ah. Yes. This was the taste of life, of existence. Bitter as hell, then salty.

Why salty? Because I was crying.

“Shit.”

-Thump.

I collapsed like a sandcastle that had lost its foundation and hurled cold fury at the sky.

Goddess! Would it kill you to make the equipment compatible? Can't a guy shoot guns in a fantasy world? Give me back my gear right now... Give it baaack.......

The administrator—no, the goddess—never answered. There is no game oversight committee in the fantasy world. It is nothing but a lawless zone.

“Ah.”

“Why is that one acting like that, nyang?”

“Raven? Are you all right?”

The chuuni kid and the nekomimi veteran seemed to be speaking, but my mind was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too chaotic for their words to register.

I was too complacent.

My traits and coordination had carried over, so I assumed the rest of my equipment would come with them. Instead they had evaporated my entire inventory.

I… This me! To suffer a balance patch!

Is the game server different, so the systems won't link?

Bullshit! If that were true, this damned body and my traits wouldn't have remained intact. What the hell is going on?

If you're going to take things, take this suffocating Plague Doctor Mask while you're at it!

What do I do now?

My grand plan of teaching the contractor marksmanship and then handling long-range firepower had been completely destroyed. The dungeon difficulty had suddenly spiked from easy mode to Korean difficulty.

Damn kimchi men. I curse your outstanding gaming prowess.

Whether I burned the Korean peninsula to ash inside my imagination or not, Sion was busy looking after the contractor.

“By the way, adventurer. Have you ever actually used that club, nyang?”

“No.”

“Is that so, nyang? Then swing it once, nyang. I want to see what level you're at, nyang.”

“Yes…!”

The contractor took an awkward stance and began swinging the club with a deadly serious expression. Her face alone belonged to a sword saint.

Swish. Swish.

Every time the club sliced uselessly through empty air, the contractor's shoulder creaked as if about to dislocate and her center of gravity lurched. Her footwork was a mess and her grip unstable. It would be more accurate to say the club was swinging her.

“Eek!”

“Whoa!”

“....”

Each time the contractor's club bounced up and down or performed a belly dance left and right, passing adventurers flinched and hurried away. If they were unlucky, the club could slip her pathetic grip and shatter their shins; their fear was perfectly reasonable.

“Huff… huff…”

After two or three more swings the contractor dropped to one knee, wiping sweat. Was she already exhausted? Her stamina truly matched that of a frail black mage.

“Haa… This is harder than I expected?”

“It hasn't even been twenty seconds. Anyone watching would think you'd been swinging for two hours straight, nyang.”

Exactly. Ah. Watching the contractor's jellyfish-like movements and elementary-school-level stamina made the future look even darker.

Escort this pathetic black-mage cosplayer safely through the dungeon? Without guns!? How the hell was that supposed to work?

“Hmm. In my opinion, rather than focusing on combat experience this expedition should prioritize adapting to the dungeon environment, nyang. What do you all think, nyang?”

Sion's serious expression looked surprisingly dependable. A Sherpa really was a Sherpa.

It had felt overwhelming, but now I felt reassured.

“...Yes.”

“Let's do that.”

The mentally and physically exhausted crow and the panting beginner adventurer who had set down her club could only nod weakly. Newbies had to listen to veterans if they wanted to raise their survival rate.

“Good, nyang. Then, fitting the subject, we're heading to the White Zone, nyang! Pack your things and follow me, nyang!”

Following Sion, whose tail swayed cheerfully, we moved toward the giant sinkhole beneath the hologram brain.

The closer we drew to the portal that looked like a black puddle, the more colorful screams scraped against my eardrums.

What was this? Had we come to the entrance of a horror maze instead of a dungeon? Or perhaps the gates of hell itself.

It was truly a place befitting a demon.

“Kyaaaak!”

“Ugh!”

“Dungeon! I'm coming!”

“Hurry up, you idiot. We're going to be late.”

“Hey newbies over there! Show some courage! Hahaha!”

“Senior! You can't see the bottom at all. Is it really safe to jump?”

“It's not safe~”

“You have to be ready to break a bone or two! Who tries to eat mana stones raw! Uhahaha!”

“Aish! You adventurers over there! Stop teasing the newbies and move!”

Some held hands with their party members and jumped together; others closed their eyes tight and threw themselves alone into the black shadow where no end could be seen.

Between the intermittent screams of novice adventurers, veteran explorers could be seen giggling at the sight.

Well, nothing is more fun than teasing newbies. Of course the story changes a little when you are the newbie.

“This is…”

“The dungeon entrance. The ‘Black Hole,’ nyang.”

Black Hole—what brutal naming.

“...Is it safe?”

“It's a portal that randomly sends you to an area inside the White Zone, so it's safe, nyang. Of course, spawning at the very edge of the White Zone can be a little dangerous. But with this body—a 5-tier Pathfinder—there's no need to worry, nyang!”

“Oh. That's reassuring.”

“Very reliable, like a warrior. Even though you're a rogue.”

“Even though I'm a rogue, here I am, nyang! Then I'll send a party invitation, so accept it, nyang.”

A party invitation? That worked in reality?

But why did the inventory not work while this did? Thinking about it again made my blood boil.

“Oh! Ooooh! Is this the Goddess's blessing? By the way, how do I accept it? Do I point with my finger?”

“Just think ‘accept’ inside your head, nyang.”

“Ah! It worked! That's amazing. What's the principle behind—”

“Well done, nyang! Registration confirmed, nyang!”

The contractor's eyes sparkled as she let out the highest level of admiration. She was behaving as if a system UI had appeared before her.

I could see nothing. Was this demon discrimination?

“Hey. I can't see anything. What's going on?”

“I didn't send the crow an invitation, so of course you can't, nyang.”

“Hmm? Why?”

Was she still holding a grudge from earlier? I felt like the baggage carrier who had been expelled from the party. Of course I hadn't even been invited. Compared to a baggage carrier, was I simply an ordinary person?

“Familiars are automatically registered as a set when the contractor joins the party, nyang!”

Aha! I wasn't a person (correct)?

“Now everyone, pay attention, nyang!”

“Yes.”

“Will do.”

Sion clapped using the back of her hand—probably because of the paw pads on her palm—and began explaining the precautions for dungeon exploration.

“First! You must absoooolutely never act alone, nyang! Only this body, the Sherpa, is allowed to act alone, nyang! Understood, nyang?”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

Acting alone in unmapped territory was no different from suicide. Of course I would stick right behind the Sherpa with my teeth clenched.

“Second! Even if you see a monster, do not attack first until it attacks you!”

“Why?”

“Non-aggressive entities are highly likely to be organically linked to ‘Living Traps’ or special entities, nyang! Touch the wrong one and the whole party could explode, nyang!”

So there were creatures that served as triggers for traps. High-quality information that raised survival odds.

“I see. I definitely won't step forward first.”

“Me neither.”

“Excellent, nyang! Then the last, third rule.”

Sion looked carefully at me, then spoke in a low, sunken voice.

“If you discover a monster that resembles a person and speaks like a person… a ‘freak,’ run away without looking back. It is not an existence that ordinary adventurers like us can face…. nyang.”

Her small fist was clenched hard to hide the trembling, yet it still shook. Before I knew it, what reflected in Sion's yellow eyes—now flooded with fear—was the crow-headed freak.

Yes. A ‘freak.’

So there was a reason she had a seizure the first time she was caught by me.

She must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have encountered that thing called a freak in the past. Coincidentally, I resembled it.

I had been Sion's trigger.

Something about this feels… sorry.

Having spent most of my life stained by trauma, I knew exactly how painful post-traumatic stress disorder could be. Every time she faced me she was probably reliving old nightmares.

“Nyanyang! That said, don't be too scared, nyang! Even if a real freak appears, this body will manage somehow, nyang!”

Sion struggled to appear bright in order to reassure the soft newbies. Behind the mask of a smile, her blurry eyes reflected the person I once had been.

Cringing at every small sound, living inside a nightmare instead of reality.

Fear, terror, anxiety, pain. Anger at one's own weakness.

Falling into the swamp of all those negative emotions and unable to move forward—that had been me.

But if there was one difference, unlike me—a corpse worm that had stagnated and simply waited for death—Sion was still struggling to escape the swamp of pain.

I can't just leave this alone.

As a senior veteran of trauma, I had no choice but to help. This was not mere meddling. It was closer to preventive action to avoid an accident than emotional support.

If the party leader feared her member's familiar, how could dungeon exploration possibly go smoothly? I didn't think it could.

For that reason.

Starting now, the house cleaning(?) would begin. It was time to carve out the cancer cell called fear using an even greater fear.