I Accidentally Admitted to Being the Demon King

I'd ended up blurting out that I was the Demon King. Sure, it was either that or an intruder, so I didn't have much choice—but if I'd known adventurers were going to barge in, I would've stalled for more time. I'd missed the perfect chance to slip away in the chaos, and it left a bitter taste.

"They seem to be adventurers from the Theocracy. I heard rumors that a nearby village hired them recently, and they've been prowling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the forest."

The Theocracy was one of the human nations. They followed the goddess's will, but unlike the Legal Kingdom or Holy Kingdom, which aimed to exterminate demons on a national scale, their dungeon delves were mostly driven by adventurers seeking to explore the unknown. Every now and then, one might rise to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rank of so-called 'hero,' but overall, their caliber wasn't that high.

Probably because the dungeon's grade had dropped since I last played the game. No need to worry—they'd back off once they heard there was already an owner. Right?

But Jugrak's reaction suggested my laid-back assumption was dead wrong.

"With our current forces, we can't handle the adventurers."

"Why not? Is the dungeon's master that weak?"

"No, it's not that. It's... embarrassing to say, but..."

......

"He's sacrificing monsters as tribute?"

"It's a kind of deal. There's likely someone on the human side who knows and is pulling the strings."

Monsters spawn naturally in dungeons. You could hunt for special ones or buy them from merchants, but even without that effort, basic defenses were possible. The current owner, a demon named Berar, exploited this by sending monsters to their deaths whenever adventurers showed up. In exchange, he pocketed gold for turning the dungeon into their hunting ground. Apparently, he blew it all on extravagant spending in the Demon Realm. He wasn't even here now.

"We've spent our whole lives at the entrance of the Great Labyrinth. We can't win against adventurers."

"What forces do we have?"

"Goblins like me and a few Stone Golems."

A dungeon without a master couldn't fend off adventurers. They'd even simplified the structure to prevent getting lost or ambushed. What a ridiculous situation. A dungeon reduced to an XP farm? Theoretically possible, but I'd never seen it in the game.

No wonder Jugrak looked so grim. If things stayed like this, the adventurers would slaughter his comrades, leaving the survivors cowering in fear once more.

"I know it's shameless after failing to protect you once, my Demon King, but please lead us one more time! We'll repay your grace with our lives!"

My footsteps halted mid-stride—I'd been casually scanning for an exit during our talk. He'd dropped to his knees at my feet.

Great. I'd planned to sneak away at the first opportunity, but now this. I was just empty armor with no substance; playing Demon King wouldn't last long before my ruse was exposed. Staying here to rule as master was suicide.

"Raise your head."

A goblin's lifespan was barely twenty years. There was no need to accept apologies from someone who barely knew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me.

But Jugrak kept his forehead glued to the ground. He had a reason. A desire.

"If it's adventurers, I'll handle them somehow."

"No, what we desire is for you to grant us your Mark of Bond, my Demon King...!"

There it was—the mark. One of the main reasons I'd quit this game. It was a growth system tied to relationships with your vassals, offering bonuses based on loyalty stages. Basically, affinity toward the dungeon master, divided into four levels: Mark of Bond, Mark of Trust, Mark of Devotion. I'd never figured out the fourth one, even after playing forever.

The marks were contracts. To grow your subordinates, you had to fulfill their core desires or wishes. They varied—material gifts, verbal oaths, even quests. But each stage ramped up to absurd difficulty. Like wiping out another Demon King's forces or scouring auctions for a month to snag a rare artifact. Some straight-up required heavy cash shop spending.

Skip them, and they'd whine about the Demon King abandoning them, loyalty would tank, or they'd defect. Same situation here, just with a different target.

The status window popped up, huh? I could've gotten a heads-up on the adventurers if I'd been the dungeon master already. According to it, Jugrak was already contracted with Berar—which made sense, since that guy hadn't done jack as a proper Dungeon Master. Loyalty like his could flip on a dime.

As my gaze flicked to the mark branded on the back of his hand, he hastily covered it with a rag.

"Hah...! N-no! He's nothing like you, my Demon King! I would never betray you."

I wasn't expecting much anyway. Even if I wanted him as a subordinate, I had nothing to offer right now. Promises like conquering the continent as the true Demon King? Restoring this half-ruined dungeon to its former glory? Fat chance—I was broke, couldn't even hand over treasure or gold.

Still, I needed to seal the deal. To fight, I'd need command authority over his minions. Even weak monsters would help against adventurers.

Racking my brain for something to give, I held out the item in my hand.

"Take it."

"Pardon? This is...! A-are you really giving this to me? Why...?"

It was the banner I'd grabbed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the warehouse. A bit big for a goblin, but it should work as a decent weapon if swung right. My only possession—if it wasn't good enough for a mark, I'd have no choice but to bolt.

With trembling hands, he took the banner. A strangely resolute glint crossed his face.

"First, the master... room."

"I'll guide you to the master room. I know the way, so hurry while the golems hold off the intruders."

"Got it."

I wanted to ask why, but dealing with the adventurers came first. To plan our strategy, I followed Jugrak toward the dungeon control room.

***

Philip was a silver badge adventurer. Affiliated with the Theocracy's guild, but hailing from the Legal Kingdom, he knew demon nature inside out—especially their ugly, filthy instincts to sacrifice underlings for personal gain.

He'd leveraged that knowledge to strike a deal with a demon he met in this dungeon: gold for periodic clearing rights.

A hefty sum for a commoner like him, but no loss. His rep as a senior mentor to rookies had skyrocketed in the guild. Call it an investment. Once he snagged a gold badge for church commissions, even basic escorts would pay triple.

"Hey, Philip. What're you doing? The newbies are waiting."

"Almost done burying it—hold on, it was around here..."

Today, like always, he buried gold at the designated spot near the entrance, entering last. As expected, monsters were getting hunted by adventurers. This was once the Demon King's lair, but no one would've dared enter back then. Now? Just a big cave.

Pushing through the darkness, he spotted his partner Peter holding a red gem.

"Wanna see?"

"What is it?"

"A golem core."

He'd severed a Stone Golem's limbs to extract it. It belonged to the dungeon master by rights, but Berar was absent. Destroy the core, and the golem crumbled. Desperate, it lurched to reclaim it—but its life was forfeit.

—Grraaahhh...!

"Leave the nails intact. Gonna sell 'em to the merchants."

"This big guy?"

"Cores shrink the body size. Nobles use 'em as guard dogs—steady demand."

"Haha, monsters as pets? The church would flip."

They both knew it wouldn't happen. Just like how their blatant demon trading went unpunished—the Theocracy was rotten to the core.

After clearing entrance monsters, they delved deeper—and noticed something off.

"Fewer monsters than usual today, huh?"

"Yeah."

"How many levels'd you guys gain?"

"About four for me."

"Three here."

The rookie party they'd brought. Gains were noticeably lower than normal. Had someone swept the place first?

Philip handed newbies to Peter and lit a torch from his bag.

"They're probably bunched up at the end."

Happened sometimes. Bunch of cowards this time? Or smart ones? Either way, none would leave alive.

"I'll check ahead."

"Careful, Philip."

"Careful in a dungeon like this? 30 minutes—no, follow slow in about 10. Don't want the level 10 newbies swarmed."

He'd thin the herd inside first. Philip pressed on, realizing the dungeon felt deeper and larger than expected.

Did something change? But last month's tribute was still in the pit...

Berar clearly hadn't visited. Yet it felt subtly different from his last trip. His veteran instincts picked up on it. Dragging his heavy steps onward, what awaited deeper in was—

"Adventurer...? No, a demon?"

Someone clad in pitch-black armor.