The Mercy of the Demon King
“It seems I was mistaken,” Elysia Arten said.
Rain was falling. It soaked the kingdom’s banners, drenched the Northern Archduke’s torn war flag, and saturated the black banners behind me. Yet, strangely, her words remained dry. They fell before me, raw and bare.
I looked at her for a moment, then smiled. Not a wide grin, just a slight curl of my lips. That was more than enough. At the sight of it, Elysia’s eyes wavered ever so slightly.
“Your Highness,” I said. “I believe you are under some sort of misconception.”
Her fingertips froze. Leonhart Brankenheim’s breathing grew ragged, no doubt because the expression on Belion’s face behind me was turning increasingly sinister.
“This is not a confessional.”
Only then did I feel the weight of every gaze locking onto me. My wet black cloak. Strands of hair plastered to my forehead by the rain. My dark armor, which looked as though it reeked of blood despite not bearing a single stain. I was still young. Ironically, that youth probably made me look all the more ominous.
“I did not come here to have Your Highness correct your past remarks.” I took another step forward. A decrepit tyrant would be a familiar sight to them. A war-weary king would be, too.
“And I certainly did not come here as a wounded man seeking belated consolation.” But a smiling, youthful Demon King was a calamity far different from what the humans had envisioned. The Black Armor Guards shifted in perfect, silent unison with my stride.
Elysia stood her ground, refusing to back down. She was desperately trying not to crumble. That pride would only make my words cut deeper, allowing me to tighten the noose around her even more.
“I am the Demon King.” A low rumble vibrated in my throat, like a beast growling. Fear lingers longest when it is unfamiliar.
“And you, Your Highness, are currently standing before the army of the Demon Realm.” Rain streamed down my armor. The black banners whipped in the damp wind.
“You do not seem to have fully grasped that reality yet.”
“Your Majesty,” Elysia managed to say. Her tone was polite, but her breath had grown shallow.
“I am here as an envoy of the Arten Kingdom—”
“Indeed,” I interrupted her, my voice soft. “That is precisely why you are still breathing.”
Elysia’s lips parted, then froze.
“However,” I continued, my smile never wavering. “Is that truly the only reason you are alive? Surely there is more to it.” I had to keep smiling. A calculating, smiling Demon King would leave a far more lasting impression than an angry one. “Do you know the real reason you are still alive, Princess?”
There was no answer. Leonhart opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off without even looking his way.
“Silence, Archduke.”
At my command, one of the Black Armor Guards slammed the butt of his spear into the mud. A heavy, dull *thud* instantly choked the words back down Leonhart’s throat.
“Very well.” I turned my gaze back to Elysia. “Since you cannot answer, allow me to enlighten you.”
Rain trailed down her cheeks. It did not look like tears. Not yet.
“It is not because of your kingdom’s banner,” I said. “Nor is it because of diplomatic protocol.” I paused. “And it is certainly not because of your royal blood.”
Elysia’s eyes widened.
“The daughter of a king,” I said slowly. “A person who is not, herself, a ruler.”
Her fingers stiffened.
“A person who has neither the authority to cleanse her kingdom’s sins nor the right to shed blood on its behalf.” I tilted my head slightly. “Why would executing a mere princess—someone who is not even a monarch—weigh on my conscience?” I spoke as if I were genuinely curious why she was acting so self-important.
“Yet, you have been speaking as if you are the very voice of your kingdom.”
Silence descended, leaving only the sound of the falling rain.
“Princess Elysia.” I uttered the title with utmost courtesy. It was far more cruel for its politeness.
Water dripped from the tips of my rain-soaked gauntlets. My hands were empty, devoid of any weapon. Yet, Elysia’s gaze remained transfixed on them. She likely realized it: I did not need a sword to command.
Even if I did not draw blood myself, the black-armored soldiers lining this border would move at my slightest whim. A Demon King’s hands were at their most dangerous when they were empty.
“Do not mistake my use of honorifics for mere etiquette.”
Elysia looked up at me. For the first time, a sharp, guarded wariness flared in her eyes.
“This is not consideration,” I said. “This is a warning from the new Demon King.”
Rabiel Mor let out a soft, sharp intake of breath. Even that tiny sound reached my ears. Good. Everyone was listening.
“Your Highness is currently standing on thin ice,” I murmured. “An ice sheet called ‘Princess’.”
I pointed toward the sodden border, walking two fingers across the air like a tiny person. “Behind you lies your kingdom; before you lies the Demon Realm.” Then, my fingers slowly pointed downward, directly at Elysia. “If that ice melts or cracks, you will be the first to drown.”
Looking as though he might faint at any second, Leonhart shrieked in a desperate, final struggle.
“This is the Demon King, Your Highness!” he cried, his voice trembling violently. “Look at him! He respects neither human etiquette nor the sanctity of envoys—”
“Archduke,” I said, finally turning my gaze to him. “I am indeed the Demon King you were so eager to behold.”
Every ounce of color drained from Leonhart’s face. I kept my smile firmly in place. “How do I look up close?”
He couldn't answer. He had probably thought I was just some lunatic. I was glad he finally got to see the reality.
“Princess,” I said, redirecting my attention to Elysia. “Do not misunderstand why the human realm has not yet burned to ashes.”
She held her breath.
“It is not because your kingdom is strong.” The black-armored soldiers stood motionless in the rain. “Nor is it because your walls are high.” Belion’s hand rested on his hilt. “And it is certainly not because the church bells are still ringing.” The playfulness was entirely gone from Rabiel Mor’s eyes.
“It is simply because I have not yet given the order to burn it down.”
The moment those words left my mouth, a low, collective rumble rippled through the demon soldiers behind me. It was hard to tell if it was laughter or a growl.
This was the very reason they were called demons. The reason humans had driven them to the barren north. The reason we, the demons, had been treated as savages and barbarians—and the reason I was called the King of Monsters. It was all laid bare right here.
Somewhere in the Northern Army’s ranks, a soldier dropped his spear. It squelched as it hit the mud. Listening to the sound, I thought to myself:
Hmm. Of course, actually burning down the entire human realm right now? Are you insane? Our supplies are soaked, the soldiers have been marching through mud for four days, and I'm basically a sleep-deprived piece of administrative trash shaped like a Demon King.
If I tried to rush their capital right now, future historians would have a field day writing about it: 'Lucion Vergrad, having left his brain at the border, attempts a sightseeing tour of the royal capital.' I refuse to do anything that will get me mocked after I'm dead.
But binding the Northern Army here? Wrapping Leonhart Brankenheim’s leash around the fingers of the kingdom’s central government? Trapping the princess’s mouth within the confines of a treaty? That wasn't a bluff. It was pure profit. That was why I had to keep smiling. I needed to look as relaxed as possible to tilt this board completely in my favor.
“Does this make you uncomfortable?” I asked gently. Elysia did not answer. No, she couldn't.
“You do feel uncomfortable. As expected of a princess.” Her eyes trembled. “Remember today.” I paused. My black warhorse exhaled, its white breath dispersing into the rain. “Remember that you could have died today.”
Her face went pale. “Archduke Brankenheim, too.” I looked at Leonhart. “And every northern soldier standing here.” The Northern Army’s ranks wavered. “All of you.”
The words were brief, which only made them linger longer.
“Yet, why are you still alive?” I looked back at Elysia. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
“Because I have decided not to kill you yet.” Rain poured down. “This is the mercy of the Demon King.”
At that moment, Leonhart Brankenheim’s knees buckled. He grabbed his spear to keep from falling, but his gloved hand slipped, and one knee slammed into the mud. The very terror he had wanted to show the princess had finally taken physical form right before his eyes.
Amidst the scent of rain, a brief, foul odor wafted through the air. No one spoke of it. Pathetic, demon-fearing bastard. Pissing himself over a few words. So that was the true measure of the Northern Archduke. Behind me, Belion scowled in disgust.
Leaving him to wallow, I focused solely on Elysia.
“Now, Princess,” I said. “Let us negotiate.”
She looked at me. Her face was filled with dread, but she wasn't completely broken yet. I quite liked that. I couldn't strike a deal with someone who was already broken. I needed someone right on the brink of breaking.
“What... do you want?” Elysia asked. Her voice was cracked, but she still maintained her royal poise. Good. That was enough.
“First.” I raised a single finger. “The establishment of the Ragmunt protection zone was not a military action officially authorized by the central government of the Arten Kingdom.”
Elysia’s eyes wavered. “I cannot confirm that here.”
“Do not confirm it then,” I said. “Simply state that you have verified it.”
“……I have verified it.”
“Second.” I raised a second finger. “Send two of Archduke Brankenheim’s blood relatives to Black King Castle.”
Elysia forced the words out. “Hostages?”
“I won't stop you if you wish to call them that,” I said, playing with her with a smirk. “But I prefer to call them guarantors.”
Leonhart gasped.
“Third. The original records of the exclusion-from-protection review must be submitted to a joint investigation.”
“Your Majesty, that is—”
“Fourth,” I cut her off. “All summary executions carried out under the pretext of the Serapion Principle of Mercy must cease immediately.”
The rain grew heavier.
“Fifth.” I lowered my hand. “Freeze a portion of the Archduke’s military command authority right here, right now.”
Leonhart exploded. “Your Highness! This is an attempt to neutralize the Northern Wall—”
“A wall?” I asked in a low voice. “If the ‘wall’ you speak of involves invading someone else’s village, stealing their medicine, oppressing them simply because they are demons, and making a demon child cry...” I turned my head toward him. “...then it is better off torn down immediately.”
Leonhart’s mouth snapped shut. Rabiel Mor muttered under her breath, “Whoa.”
Elysia glared at her. Rabiel raised her hands slightly. “Apologies. I couldn't help but admire that.”
“Rabiel.”
“Shutting up now.”
Yet, her eyes remained locked on me. A mage’s eyes. Eyes that could distinguish between what was burned and what was not. She was likely trying to measure whether I was bluffing or if I truly possessed the power to slaughter them all. Let her measure all she wanted. Only half of the terror I projected needed to be real. The other half, they would fill in themselves.
Elysia took a slow, deep breath. “As a princess, I cannot unilaterally freeze military command authority.”
“Of course not,” I nodded. “You are not the king, after all.” Her shoulders stiffened once more at my words.
“Which is why I am not demanding a king’s decision from you right now,” I said. “Consider this a ‘proposal’ to buy your kingdom enough time to avoid being burned to ashes before your king can arrive.”
Elysia’s eyes wavered. Deep bewilderment, and beneath it, a tiny spark of anger, flickered in her gaze.
“Your Majesty,” she asked quietly. “Do you truly intend to burn down the human realm?”
Hearing her question, I burst into laughter once more. This time, it was much clearer.
“Princess,” I said. “That question is your second mistake.”
Elysia did not respond.
“Do not ask about my intentions,” I said, looking down at her. “Ask about my terms.”
The black banners whipped in the stormy wind. Atop the sodden border, the army of the Demon Realm held its breath. Sigh. They just love making me work, don't they? I had to crush this royal envoy, slowly and deliberately. Once and for all.
“The reason the human realm has not yet burned...” Listen carefully. Elysia Arten looked straight at me, her face on the verge of breaking, yet refusing to yield. I drove the final nail into that stubborn pride.
“...is solely because I, the Demon King, Lucion Vergrad, am merciful.”