A Date with the Demon King
Having met a long and excruciatingly agonizing end, Berik's corpse was a truly gruesome sight.
Decomposed, liquefying flesh clung to bones riddled with hollow pits, surrounded by melted viscera and an overwhelming, nauseating stench.
"...At the very least, you can still tell it was Berik."
Weller had taken charge of handling the remains, opting to encase the entire body in solid ice for preservation.
"Sniff...! Hic...!"
Whatever Weller truly felt beneath the surface, she handled the corpse with detached clinical coldness. Vivian, however, couldn't manage anywhere near that level of composure. Her head hung low, tears streaming down her scrunched, miserable face as her small hands clutched desperately at the hem of her skirt. The sight was so heartbreakingly pitiful that I found my hand moving on its own, gently resting upon her head.
"Uwaaah, Brother...!"
Like a newborn infant grasping for a lifeline, she threw herself into my arms, burying her face into my chest and sobbing uncontrollably for a long time.
Truthfully, I wanted to tell her not to let every single passing tear her apart. If her path lay alongside the Hero, she would inevitably witness countless horrors that would make the miserable demise of a traitor to humanity look like nothing. But I couldn't bring myself to say those words aloud. I merely stood there in silence, stroking her hair.
"Kang Han-gil."
Amid the heavy, stifling gloom shared by everyone present, Tsarkhella looked straight at me.
"...What?"
The second our eyes met, every instinct I had flared with an ominous warning. Ever since my physical metamorphosis, my intuition had bordered on the precognitive. My gut feeling was never wrong anymore—even if right now, I desperately prayed it was.
"You plan to leave the tribe now, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Without marrying me, no less."
"...Is this really the time or place to bring that up?"
"Why should I care about the mood? All that happened is that a traitor to mankind kicked the bucket. Scum like that doesn't count as family anyway."
I sighed at her frigid, unyielding practicality.
"...I thought you'd given up."
She hadn't brought it up over the past few days, so I assumed the matter had naturally fizzled out. Seeing the resolute fire burning in her eyes, however, proved it had been the exact opposite.
"You know better than anyone that I wouldn't. I'm not foolish enough to believe I could ever meet another man like you. And the odds of me falling for someone else are even slimmer. A destined partner who satisfies my heart and guarantees exceptional offspring doesn't come twice. I will never let you go."
"Haaah... So what's your grand plan? You going to use brute force?"
"No, I gave up on that idea long ago. Taking you by force was an uphill battle even before you received Lord Kubel's divinity."
"...Then what?"
"I'm coming with you."
I buried my face in both hands, letting out a desperate groan. It might have just been my imagination, but my voice sounded dangerously close to cracking.
"Please... I am begging you, don't..."
"My mind is already made up! I am going to the Stanasila Duchy! Once there, I will receive your parents' blessing for our union! A formal meeting of the in-laws, as civilized folk call it!"
"Are you completely out of your mind, woman?! Do you honestly think that'll work?!"
"Why wouldn't it? You never know until you try!"
A flood of rebuttals surged into my head, but my mouth simply hung open, flapping like a stranded carp without producing a single coherent sound.
"...Weller. Help me out here."
"Don't look at me. I've washed my hands of this... Deal with it yourself."
"Don't just give up on me!"
"Why are you yelling at me, you idiot?! I'm not saying another word about this whole mess! Besides, the only reason I opposed your marriage was because I thought you were Stanasila Alzen! But now I don't see you as Alzen anymore, and your face has changed completely, so I couldn't care less! Sort it out yourself, Kang Han-gil!"
"Wait... When you put it like that..."
Come to think of it, part of the reason I had fought Tsarkhella off so vehemently was the sheer disgust of incest. Even if my mind and soul were Kang Han-gil, the meat suit had still belonged to Stanasila Alzen. But the situation had fundamentally changed. Thanks to Kubel's divine grace, my physical vessel had morphed to reflect my true soul. To be brutally honest, leaning on the incest excuse didn't hold much water anymore.
"Tsk...! Men really are all the same..." Weller clicked her tongue, glaring at me with undisguised scorn.
What could I even say to that? My attitude toward incest might have shifted, but my desire to reject Tsarkhella remained entirely unchanged. It felt unfair, but arguing back right now would only pour oil on the fire.
"Fufufu...! You've finally come to your senses, Kang Han-gil! You no longer have any justification to push me away!"
"...Good grief."
Letting out a heavy sigh, I shook my head in surrender.
"Fine, do whatever you want... But swear to me right now that if things spiral out of hand, you'll put everything on the line to help me contain the fallout."
"Worry not! I'm not the kind of woman who runs from responsibility!"
"...Though frankly, I doubt we'll even have the luxury to worry about polite family introductions."
"Hm? What do you mean by that?"
"How do you think Stanasila Pitra is going to react when she finds out she lost two of her children?"
A single, fat bead of cold sweat rolled down Tsarkhella's cheek. To think that even someone as fearless as her would break out in a nervous sweat—just what kind of monster was Duchess Pitra? Dreading it wouldn't change reality, though. There was no dodging it; I would simply have to face the storm head-on.
After packing in haste, we departed from the barbarian settlement. The carriage maintained a steady, relentless pace, devouring the miles toward the Duke's Castle. At this rate, we would arrive in roughly a day.
"Lord Han-gil. Regardless of the circumstances, you are drinking far too much. Please exercise some restraint."
My hand froze midway to my mouth, the bottle hovering in the air at Muriel's reprimand.
"Ah, well... the thing is, I can barely catch a buzz these days. Once we're back at the castle, I'll definitely need to hunt down something stronger."
I offered a breezy shrug to mask my inner turmoil, but Muriel merely let out a soft sigh, her gaze deep and knowing as she gently took the bottle from my fingers.
"Lord Han-gil. No matter what comes to pass, I will remain on your side."
Her quiet reassurance made me squeeze my eyes shut and lean my head back against the carriage ceiling.
"...Is it really written that plainly on my face? Or have you secretly developed mind-reading magic?"
"No. Objectively speaking, most would find your expression unreadable. But I have watched over you closer than anyone else, so I simply know."
"If you know, couldn't you pretend not to notice for once?"
"I shall take it into consideration."
"Unbelievable..."
A wry chuckle escaped my lips at her shameless response, and the tension drained from my shoulders. Fine, I'd admit it. Right now, I was terrified.
Imagining Stanasila Pitra falling into utter despair, breaking down, and going berserk with murderous malice made my stomach twist into tighter knots with every passing hour.
"...Damn it all."
Naturally, it wasn't her martial might that frightened me. Well, that part was fairly terrifying in its own right, but what genuinely chilled me to the bone was the thought of how deeply I would be shaken when forced to confront her grief. I had to endure it, shoulder it, and see it through... yet I honestly didn't know if I had the strength.
For all the effort I had spent trying to keep my distance, affection had taken root without my realizing it. Pretending she was a stranger and turning a blind eye was no longer an option.
My fingers clenched into anxious fists before I reached out and pulled Tsarkhella, who had been sitting on my lap nibbling on dried rations, into a tight embrace.
"Hyah?! Wh-what is this?! You startled me!"
"Stop squirming and stay still."
"Eek...?!"
Wrapping my arms firmly around her waist, I pulled her flush against my chest and buried my nose into the crook of her neck. Her entire body stiffened like a board.
Tsarkhella carried a distinct, smoky scent—an aroma reminiscent of woodfire. It wasn't the smell of rolled tobacco, nor was it the fragrance of cooking, but rather a comforting, familiar scent that settled my frayed nerves.
"U-um... H-husband...? D-did you suddenly feel the urge to do it with me...? If that's the case, we should wait until we're alone..."
"Stop talking absolute nonsense... and just be quiet."
"Y-yes..."
Her face was flushed bright crimson, completely flustered. Smirking at her rare bashfulness, I inhaled deeply. Beyond her unique scent, her body radiated an intense, furnace-like heat that melted the exhaustion from my limbs, as if I had submerged myself in a hot spring.
The glares radiating from the other women inside the carriage felt sharp enough to pierce steel, but I stubbornly ignored them. Savoring Tsarkhella's warmth while listening to the rapid, rhythmic thumping of her heart, a heavy drowsiness began to wash over me. But just as I drifted toward sleep, the carriage came to a violent, screeching halt.
SKRRRRRKKK—!
"Whoa?!"
"Eek!"
The wheels groaned as they gouged deeply into the dry earth, sending the cabin lurching violently on its suspension. As shrill cries echoed through the shaking interior, my eyes snapped open, and I manifested my divine authority on reflex.
"Mmph?! Huh?! What is this..."
"A tail...?"
A colossal, bushy beast tail—vast enough to envelop the carriage's entire cabin—erupted into existence. Shimmering like a heat haze without physical substance, it nonetheless exerted undeniable protective force, cradling everyone securely in place.
"Everyone all right?"
"Uh... y-yes. We're fine."
"Th-that scared me half to death..."
After ensuring that Cecilia and Arpe were safely buried within the plush phantom fur, I turned toward the coachman's partition.
"Cacciola! What's going on out there?"
"...Master. We've got an emergency."
Cacciola's voice floated back, stiff and brittle with extreme tension.
"What is it? A monster attack?"
"A monster's one way to put it. A Demon King counts as a monster, after all."
"...Ah."
Only one figure fit that description.
Rubias. I had completely pushed it out of my mind, but that deranged psycho had actually shown up for her promised 'date.'
"...All hands, prepare for battle!"
Bellowing the command, I kicked the carriage door wide open and leaped out into the open air.
A bleak, desolate wasteland stretched under a pale sky, dust swirling across the barren dirt. Standing amidst that bleak scenery was a woman of intoxicating, otherworldly beauty, gazing in our direction with an ethereal aura that felt profoundly out of place.
Her long hair swayed gently in the arid breeze. Catching my eye from across the clearing, the Demon King of Space-Time offered a radiant smile and waved her hand merrily.
"...Right. You really have a death wish, don't you?"
My mood was already in the gutter, so this worked out just fine.
"Arpe. The Open Birdcage."
"Y-yes!"
While she had crossed paths with a demonic avatar before, Arpe had never stood before a Demon King's true body. Stripped of her usual imperious haughtiness, her hands trembled uncontrollably.
A grim chuckle escaped me as I realized just how much stronger I had become. In the past, the mere oppressive weight of a Demon King's presence would have had blood leaking from my eyes, nose, and mouth.
"...Hm?"
At that moment, Rubias unfurled her hidden wings with theatrical flair. Resting one hand over her chest in an exaggerated dramatic pose, she pointed her other hand directly at me.
VZZZZT—!
The space warping around her distorted like heated glass, and a procession of figures stepped through the rift.
"What the..."
A grotesque flutter of mismatched wings beat against the dry air. Shifting, repulsive hides covered in scales, feathers, foul secretions, and stony crags writhed obscenely. Tails of varying lengths lashed behind them, while malformed tongues flicked hungrily from jagged, bestial muzzles.
"...Are you serious?"
Demons. Not foot soldiers, but genuine High Demons. Every single one of them.
A staggering pack of ten.
And worst of all, not a single one was a face I recognized from the original storyline.
"You've got to be shitting me, you crazy bitch."
The curse slipped past my teeth before I could stop it.