Chapter 77: Back to the Demon Realm (5)
Chapter 77: Back to the Demon Realm (5)
"In the first city, there was someone blabbing about Demon-nim to outsiders."
"!"
"Ah, no...! H-Hel-nim!!"
His adjutant, startled, but before they could say anything, Hel vanished. Literally, as if sinking into the ground.
My surprise lasted only a moment, and I soon nodded.
'Right, he was originally from the shadows.'
Not a metaphorical expression, but literally a shadow.
The Demon King's power didn't purely aggregate among themselves to produce demon-race. If it inhabited an ogre, an ogre-derived demon-race was born; if it inhabited an object, a demon-race of that object's form was born.
The 8th Legion Commander Hel was a demon-race born from the Demon King's power inhabiting a shadow.
Perhaps because of that, he supposedly had an appearance like a shadow risen with three-dimensional volume, his face not even visible—but to think he possessed such an ability as well.
...But why had he vanished?
"A guy who couldn't even fulfill his own mission has no right to eat Demon-nim's cookies. So, Demon-nim."
"Y-yes?"
"Could you give both to me~?"
"Dvelania-nim!"
Before I could respond, the adjutant, who had been kneeling where Hel had vanished, staring blankly at the floor, shouted in outrage. But the one startled by it was me.
An adjutant raising their voice at a Legion Commander. And not even their own direct superior, but another Legion Commander at that.
'Has that one gone mad, seriously!'
'Don't do this here, go outside and fight, you bastards....'
Don't shed blood in my room.
***
Perhaps finding the two demon-race growling in his territory rather uncomfortable, Deon pressed a cookie bag each into the hands of Dvelania and Hel's adjutant Nain, then sent them outside.
No, to be precise, it was closer to the two of them, having noticed 'Demon Arut's' displeased mood, voluntarily exercising restraint and withdrawing first.
Because if they'd continued further here, trouble would surely have erupted.
They knew well how fearsome his anger was. The two were not so foolish as to take him lightly just because he was usually a moderate person.
However, a quarrel temporarily halted because of one person couldn't possibly end just like that.
The moment they came out of the room and the door closed, Nain clutched the cookie bag tightly to her chest and glared fiercely at Dvelania. Interest flickered in Dvelania's eyes.
"Oh my, did you just glare at me?"
"Please stop tormenting our Hel-nim!"
"Me? Why~, I just said something correct though?"
"He's someone whose self-esteem has already hit rock bottom, do you have no conscience?! This is too much!"
The 8th Legion Commander Hel. A person who had mastered weapon techniques to the extent of handling all weapons like his own body.
His innate ability as one born from shadows seemed suitable for infiltration-related missions, so initially even the Demon King wanted to seat him as the 2nd Legion Commander, but there was one fatal flaw....
Namely, his self-esteem was absurdly low.
'There's no way they'd entrust me with such an important task,' 'There's no way someone like me could do something like this,' 'Is it really okay for someone like me to do this?'
And then, if he failed even slightly: 'As expected, trash like me should just go die,' 'Why do I even live?' 'As expected, I'm not even worth the air I brea....'
"Trash... I really am trash...."
Watching her superior suddenly pop out from the shadow at her feet and slump down, covering his face with both hands, Nain wore a complicated expression.
Blood droplets were dripping from the edge of his clothes—he must have finished handling his work and returned in that brief time.
She'd explained countless times how remarkable it was that he handled his work and returned this quickly....
"No! The fact that you came back after settling things even now is impressive enough! Everyone makes mistakes. What's important is how you handle the aftermath. In that sense, Hel-nim, you handled the cleanup splendidly! You did very well!"
"...Really?"
"Of course! If Hel-nim had truly committed a grave error, there's no way Demon-nim would have given you cookies like this! Look at this."
"Is that really mine...? Demon-nim gave it as my share...?"
"Yes!"
Though in truth, she'd fought a nerve-wracking battle with the 2nd Legion Commander and stubbornly secured it.
Feigning innocence, Nain shook the cookie bag as if to show off, drawing his gaze.
"So don't stay like this here, please get up quickly. Let's go to your room and rest while eating these cookies."
Seeing this scene, some might wonder why the 8th Legion Commander was blaming himself when it was merely news that talk about Demon-nim was circulating outside.
But this was only natural.
Up until the commotion caused by the demonic beasts, the 8th Legion Commander had existed almost invisibly—no one even knew what mission he'd undertaken, and no one had shown any interest. His current external mission was 'security of major cities in the Demon Realm.'
But there was a secret mission he'd been undertaking even before that.
A mission he'd taken on from the very moment Demon Arut joined the Demon King's army.
[To ensure that information regarding Demon Arut's appearance does not leak into the human world.]
Why wasn't information about the 0th Legion Commander widely known?
Why couldn't the Empire even get a grasp on the 0th Legion Commander's appearance?
Had all of this truly felt like coincidence?
Hel had moved steadily from the very moment he received the mission.
When a servant on leave from the Demon Castle was about to blab about 'Demon Arut's' appearance to an acquaintance, when Demon went out on a demonic beast hunt and was exposed with his bare face at a gambling den in the first city, even when he fought a hero at the boundary line with the human world.
He persistently tracked down and killed those traces, silencing them.
In stark contrast to his low self-esteem, it was a splendid skill without the slightest error.
Just look now—hadn't he moved instantly upon the 2nd Legion Commander's report, handled the target, and returned? Since they said the person blabbed, he would have dealt with those who heard the story as well, and considering the time it took to finish all of this, it was absurdly fast.
'If only something could be done about that damn self-esteem of his... haa.'
As Nain swallowed a sigh, Hel, having barely calmed down, hesitantly rose from his spot. As if to reassure him, Nain smiled and politely extended a hand, and just as Hel was about to take that hand—
"Isn't it more important not to make mistakes in the first place?"
"......!"
"Dvelania-nim!"
Hel collapsed again like a sandcastle. At the immediate reaction, Dvelania giggled.
This was why she couldn't stop tormenting the 8th Legion Commander. Because it was fun.
Leaving behind Nain, who was noisily protesting—saying things like why she kept nitpicking when it had nothing to do with Dvelania-nim, or why she was crushing the spirit of their... superior when demon-race could make mistakes, or that she'd report this to the Demon King—Dvelania turned away.
'After this, they won't even dream of interfering for a while.'
She was planning to persuade Demon-nim soon to go clothes shopping in the second city, and it would be troublesome if interference came then too.
Though Deon had no intention of going, Dvelania moved with light footsteps, already happily agonizing over what clothes to buy.
Bursting into a pleasant laugh at the impertinent shouts of the 8th Legion Commander's adjutant ringing out from behind her.
***
The Kingdom of Ireon was a mess.
"The Imperial Army has already trampled one city and is advancing toward this location! They say it will soon reach the next city—what in the world have you been doing while the situation has deteriorated to this point?! We must present some kind of countermeasure!!"
"A countermeasure that even you cannot produce—do you expect us to have some other option?!"
"Then are you saying we should all just die together like this?!"
Those who could do nothing but sit before their desks and raise their voices rampaged, crying about how precious their own lives were, while outside, innocent commoners were dying.
The assembly hall that should have been sacred had long since transformed into not a place for devising countermeasures, but an arena for fighting.
'What a shitshow.'
The King of Ireon, seated on the throne, pressed his brow firmly. Though he'd definitely taken medicine, his head was already throbbing as if a headache was coming.
That was why he'd said not to mess with the Emperor. Because in those two eyes he'd happened to meet, black flames had been flickering.
They weren't red flames. They weren't blazing based on the passion, anger, hatred, vengefulness, and the like that commonly served as kindling.
Flames that were hollow yet tenaciously blazed without losing the will to live. If one had to assign a color, they were closer to 'black' than 'red.'
Yes, black flames. He still didn't know for what purpose they were burning, but he could instinctively tell that there would be nothing good to gain from touching them.
'I had thought this country was rotten from before....'
And so it was collapsing like this.
The King's words didn't work. The royal authority had fallen to the ground, and the nobles were too busy filling their own pockets to look after the commoners.
Still, perhaps because they were people who dabbled in politics, they weren't completely stupid—but this time, it was a miscalculation.
The nobles hadn't demanded compensation from the Empire purely blinded by money. Underlying their actions was the expectation that even if the Empire couldn't immediately grant their demands, it would at least attempt 'negotiation.'
Think about it with common sense. However it happened, it was true that there had been a small battle near the border, and depending on the perspective, that was enough to feel like a threat to the Kingdom of Ireon.
Furthermore, war required enormous money and manpower. Barely two years had passed since the Eight-Year War ended, so in such circumstances, it was difficult to imagine the Empire easily pulling out the card called 'war.'
Even Deon Hart, who had been an excellent vanguard commander during the Eight-Year War, was in a state where he had to rest due to injuries—who would predict war?
Of course, that was only in terms of 'common sense.'
'Having timidly poked at it, a full-force fist had come back in return.'
Leaving the flustered nobles alone, the King covered his mouth.
Because he thought he knew what the Emperor had been hoping for, because he felt a sigh might inadvertently escape.
'...Had the Emperor desired war from the very beginning?'
The cautious conjecture soon became certainty.
The Emperor had been waiting for a 'justification' to wage war. The Kingdom of Ireon had diligently provided him the opportunity to draw his sword, and it would become that sword's first sacrificial lamb.
Had he known this fact sooner....
'......But it would have been the same anyway.'
Because then and now, he was a powerless king, and his voice would be buried under the nobles' remarks.
"How about... surrendering?"
In the assembly hall that had become a mess, one of the nobles cautiously spoke up. Watching the other nobles' eyes light up as if they'd been waiting, the King quietly closed his eyes.
He had expected this too.
Those with much to lose feared fighting. Loyal subjects had died or disappeared without a trace, and even those who had been clean had been stained by the muddy waters.
Only traitors remained here. He knew well that those who prioritized their own bellies would never act for the sake of the nation.
And yet, why did it leave such a bitter taste in his mouth?
"What does Your Majesty think?"
Facing the eyes looking at him as if they'd never fought, with one heart and one mind, the King of Ireon smiled powerlessly.
"Prepare for surrender."
***
Before I knew it, a month had passed since I'd come to the Demon Castle.
And I was able to recall one very important fact I'd been overlooking all this time.
"I'm bored...."
Namely, that there was damn well nothing to do in the Demon Castle! I should have brought some fun entertainment when I came.
Click. I tossed a just-completed cube onto one side of the bed and then flung myself next to it. I turned my head, buried half my face in the pillow, and looked down at the floor.
There, a completed large puzzle was situated.
Another item to decorate the room wall had increased. How many pieces had that been? Was it 6,000 pieces?
It's probably around that. It's a puzzle I'd once thrown in self-loathing, so I vaguely remember it. To think I'd end up completing it, seriously I....
'Ah, whatever.'
Thanks to a full month of deep rest, the dark circles under my eyes that I'd made in the human world had disappeared, but as a person, doing absolutely nothing was driving me insane.
"......Should I at least go outside?"