MSR-V3-2

Yukikaze’s face was like fading snow, the portrait of a beautiful young girl. To the Demon Lord, she seemed more beautiful than an actress on TV. If he found out what was between Yukikaze’s legs, even he would surely be astonished.

(Dang. My head’s still all foggy...)

Still lacking sleep, the Demon Lord turned to the window of the carriage with a sleepy gaze. Outside, he could see the same old dried-up land and bone-dry air. He had often looked at numbers to wake up before, but he had unfortunately left his wristwatch at the village for fear of damaging it during his dungeon crawl.

“Mikan, was it? What’s the current year and month...?”

“...Huh?”

“Just answer me.”

“What’s with you...? It’s July 10th, of the year 2000 on the Holy

Calendar. So what!?”

“...The year 2000. Ha!”

The Demon Lord chuckled in nostalgia. Mikan surely had no idea what was funny or nostalgic about it. Her already annoyed expression grew more stern.

(Strange that the two worlds share the same calendar, time, and even language...)

Even the odd mixture of hiragana, katakana, kanji, and Latin alphabet in this world seemed to be a carbon copy of modern-day Japan. For the Demon Lord, it was awfully convenient. On the other hand, a completely different impression came to his mind.

(I guess it’s... sloppy workmanship.)

Whether or not he was correct in this assessment, this was the most fitting descriptor he could come up with at the moment. In every aspect, it was like someone had copied and pasted over the language and scripts of modern-day Japan into this world.

“You said it was ‘war season’ now, didn’t you?”

“...”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you!?”

Ruffling her red locks, Mikan barked back at the Demon Lord. Her red eyes and slender body gave her a wild air, like a Doberman, when she snarled. Her bronze skin, along with her athletic outfit that revealed much of her shoulders and legs, added a healthy sensuality to her appearance.

“I’m tired of answering your questions, so here are the answers to your next few! The Northern Nations are in war season from April to September, and at ceasefire from October to March! Got it!?”

“Sorry, you were going too fast, and I didn’t understand a thing you said.

Come again?”

“Gah... You’re killing me...! The Northern Nations are......”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear it over Yukikaze’s snoring. One more time.”

“She’s as quiet as a mouse!”

Opposite Mikan’s roaring red locks, the Demon Lord laughed, his shoulders bouncing. He enjoyed teasing women like Mikan. For her, though, he was nothing more than a nuisance, of course.

“Are you really a human in the first place? From the way you took down

Carnival... It’s super hard to believe.”

“How insulting. I am most definitely human.”

“Humans, just so you know, don’t... Woah!”

Riled up, Mikan went to stand up, when the carriage rocked from driving over something in the road. Mikan was knocked off her balance, and her red lingerie revealed itself to the Demon Lord. For a few moments, silence befell the carriage’s interior.

“...didn’t you?”

“Hm?”

“You saw my underwear just now... didn’t you?”

“The only thing that I see, and have seen, is the blue sky above,” the Demon Lord said, full of confidence. Hearing this, Mikan began to shake.

“What’s that supposed to mean!? Don’t go into that ‘tragic hero smolder’ crap!”

“Well, I suppose the sunset also appears in the sky.”

“Y-You stared long enough to tell the color!?”

“I’m just talking about the sky... What are you going on about?”

The Demon Lord shrugged. He was an expert at counterattacks. He had maintained an unaffected expression while saving that particular color of red in his memory bank. Truly an unforgettable evil.

“Why am I always surrounded by people like this!?” Mikan shouted, clasping her head in her hands, waking Yukikaze. She looked like a snow fairy waking from her midsummer slumber.

“...Mister Fox, your lap... it’s so harrrr?”

“Keep this in your mouth, so you don’t go saying weird things.”

The Demon Lord had learned his lesson. Before Yukikaze could say anymore, he threw an Ice Cream Bar he had created into her mouth. While it was a useless item that only healed 7 Stamina in the arena, this was surely a priceless delicacy.

“...Fo fard, Miffer Fof.”

“You learn a few tricks with age.”

The Demon Lord proudly laughed, tossing a Candy to Mikan. While this only healed 5 Stamina, since it could be found in packs of ten, it came in pretty handy in a pinch. Par for the course, it came with an excessive variety of flavors, like strawberry and cola. Not that he did it on purpose, but the flavor of the pack he threw at her was tangerine, or ‘mikan’ in Japanese.

“...Like I’m going to trust something you’ve pulled out of your pocket.”

“It is very sweet. Popular with the ladies.”

“Trying to bribe me with sweets? I’ll have you know I’m not that cheap.”

Mikan rummaged through her bag and produced a magical item: a strange doll holding a red flag and a white flag. Seeing the doll, with pity, the Demon

Lord asked, “You... still play with dolls?”

“You...! It’s called ‘Mr. Just Use Me’! How do you not know what this is?”

“How could anyone come up with such a ridiculous name...?”

“Huh? Simple and straightforward, why not?”

Mikan presented the candy in her hand to the doll. Soon, the doll solemnly raised the white flag and uttered:

“It’s cool.”

The Demon Lord nearly fell out of his seat.

“What is that ridiculous thing!”

“Hmph, you’re the embodiment of ridiculous. This is an important item that tells me if there’s anything harmful in a food or drink.”

In fact, it was a very famous magical item. It had the same effect as an Angel’s Spoon. Adventurers without a cleric in their party dreamed about this item.

“You found that in a dungeon too?”

“No. I went up to the City States and bought it. It was well worth the good money I paid, but... this! Is so! Sweet!” Mikan blurted out after unwrapping the candy and throwing it into her mouth.

The most common sweet food in this world was raw sugar. While they also had the likes of fruit and honey, there was nothing comparable to hard candy, of course. Mikan couldn’t help but smile at this sweet taste she had never before encountered.

“It tastes like tangerines... It’s my flavor...”

“...‘My flavor’? You’re a pervert, Mikan.”

“Shut up!”

While the two bickered, the Demon Lord began thinking about another matter: the City States. Since there was no comparable example on modernday Earth, he was having a hard time imagining their nature.

“Can you tell me a few things about the City States?”

“I’m never telling you anything again!”

“...I’ll tell you, Mister Fox. I want to licky licky again once I do.”

While Mikan turned up her nose, Yukikaze came back with another borderline comment. The Demon Lord continued asking questions without acknowledging it. He must have figured that he was running out of time to remain ignorant. He had to learn as many things about this world as possible, moving forward.

While Yukikaze explained the simplified nature of the City States, the Demon Lord was having a hard time processing it. Apparently, each city was its own nation, collectively forming a union. Each city was a sovereign state and had their own set of laws, but considered themselves a large nation combined. While it was most likely established as a method of defense against the wars raging in the Northern Nations, this was a system completely different from the concept of city states on Earth.

(I suppose it’s like each prefecture in a region of Japan being a sovereign state, but forming a collective nation. I guess issues that can’t be dealt with on a state level could be handled when they get together.)

At this point, the Demon Lord was imagining the islands of Japan. He kept that in the back corner of his brain as a point of reference, but only as reference. As a general rule, this man trusted the things he saw with his own eyes, heard with own ears, and smelled with his own nose. Furthermore, those became the center of his decision making. While this could depict a calm and calculated person, his true nature was something a little different.

He was someone that always put himself in the center of his world. He judged everything for himself, and valued his judgment above anyone else’s. Under certain circumstances, he would easily succumb to the lure of selfrighteousness, but for better or worse, he was the Demon Lord. As a ruling dictator, his nature, that is to say his inclination to always maintain his own will under his own judgment, was one of the prerequisites that could not be taught. Throughout history, whenever a person of this nature had taken power, they had produced both great progress and great destruction.

“Maybe I should go to the City States one of these days.”

“...Take me with you when you do, Mister Fox.”

“Not me though! Never!”

The cacophonous carriage carried on until the Demon Lord and his party left the area surrounding Yahooo, passed the fortress on the nation’s border, and entered the Northern Nations. Passing the border during this time of year would not have been an easy feat if it wasn’t for the Madame’s letter, which the Demon Lord presented at the checkpoint. An embodiment of the power of the connections he had earned.

## A Threesome Journey

——The suburbs of Suneo, in the Northern Nations.

The carriage went smoothly down the highway and was approaching a city. While the Northern Nations had been long at war, these parts were evidently peaceful. Looking around at the expansive vineyards on either side of the road, Mikan cheered up.

“It’s been a while since we were last in Suneo! So excited for the wine!”

“Is that... what this country is called...?”

“...It’s a small but wealthy place.”

The Demon Lord groaned at its bizarrely pop-culture name, but the two girls seemed to be treating it as an ordinary name for a country. A small creek flowed by the vineyards, painting a stark contrast against the wasteland of eastern Holylight.

(Vineyards, huh...?)

While the Demon Lord wasn’t picky when it came to drinking, he had never seen a vineyard in real life. He found himself enjoying the view somewhat.

“The food is great here, too... Now that I mention it, I’m getting hungry.”

“...You’re just thirsty, Mikan. In heat, all year.”

“You’re the one who’s always in heat!”

As he listened to their conversation, the Demon Lord’s interest in the food in this nation was piqued. He hadn’t really had a chance to sit and enjoy a proper meal since coming to this world.

“Food, huh? What do you recommend around here?”

“When you’re in Suneo, you have to have oysters!”

“Oysters...? Are they safe?”

The Demon Lord was secretly surprised. He had been avoiding the dish, from his preconception that it should not be eaten raw.

“Don’t you get it? That’s why we have Mr. Just Use Me.”

“That ridiculous doll...”

The Demon Lord nearly clasped his head, recalling the scene from a moment ago. He couldn’t very well have that doll assess each and every food or drink they would come across.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind letting you use it too... For five bronze coins a pop.”

“Thanks for your generosity, but I don’t need it.”

This man (and every player in the game) had a skill called Taste Test. This was a must-have tool for any player, since items in the arena could be poisoned. However, because it cost 20 Stamina to use, it wasn’t something that players could activate left and right. Still, since poisoned items would damage the user the same amount a non-poisoned item of the same variety would have healed them, not knowing whether or not something was poisoned was a big risk to take. If an item would normally heal the player’s HP by 100, they would take 100 damage from the poisoned version of the same item. Many players had died from poison by skimping on Stamina.

(Heh, a lot of things are coming back to me...)

The Demon Lord alone smiled, reminiscing on the world he had created. What a mean little game, that was. Healing items are used when players have low HP to begin with. Imagine their despair when their last hope for survival spelled their very doom. For many of them, it meant instant death... Their screens blacked out, and notified them of their demise.

—Game Over—

The item you used was poisoned by [insert player name]. Here’s a message from your marvelous killer:

“LOL, poisoned to death!? So freaking lame, LMAO. Go back to kindergarten, noob. LMFAO.”

“WASTED.”

“Say goodbye to the cruel world.”

“The poison content in this thing is over 9000!”

“Surprise, motherfucker.”

“Now you got Ligma.”

“That’s finger-lickin’ good!”

“The old you can’t come to the phone right now... Why? ’Cus you dead!” “F”

Recalling the various messages left behind by the players, the Demon Lord’s shoulders quivered. Some taunted their victims while others tried to make them laugh. In some cases, the repeated poisoning had festered a grudge between sets of players. The arena had become a melting pot in that way.

“Hmph! Don’t come crying to me later,” Mikan said, bringing the Demon Lord out of his memories. He decided to say something non-controversial. “Well, I’ll just cook it, then.”

“You really don’t have a clue, do you? Oysters are best when they’re raw!”

“...Mikan likes it raw. Raw dog.”

“Where’d the dog come from!?”

As the Demon Lord brushed off their bickering, the carriage finally came to a halt. Outside the window, he could see a nice and cozy inn. They had arrived in a town.

“Now let’s eat! Let’s eat ’til we drop!”

“Lunch with Mister Fox. The oysters will keep his... spirits up.”

“You two better behave at the inn!”

“...I can’t wait to taste Mister Fox’s prairie oysters.”

“I can’t stand it anymore! Why oh why do I have this pervert for a partner!?”

The trio climbed out of the carriage onto the street. Yukikaze and Mikan had always attracted attention due to their contrast in color, and now they had the Demon Lord thrown into the mix. Everyone walking down the street stopped and stared, whispering their theories on who that party could possibly be.

“...This is La France. We stay here often.”

“La France in Suneo, huh...? I think I’m getting a headache.”

Mikan threw open the door and marched right inside. Perhaps from hunger, she stomped in like a raging bull. Seeing Mikan and Yukikaze, the owner called out, cheerfully.

“Hey, if it isn’t Mikan! Didn’t expect to see you during war season...

Spending the night?”

“Sorry, chief. Just for a break and meal this time. Our usual, please.” “Coming right up.”

Mikan greeted and joked around with the adventurer-looking patrons of the inn and seemed to be having a good time.

“Hey now, Mikan. What are you doing here this time of the year? Let me guess. One too many games and now you’re penniless.”

“You make me sound like a bum. Don’t forget about the two silver coins you owe me.”

“Crap, you still remembered...!”

“Hey, Mikan. Come drink over here.”

“If you’re buying, I’ll think about it.”

“No way, that’ll blow my entire reward!”

Seeing their familiarity, the Demon Lord shrugged his shoulders. He guessed that a woman like Mikan was very popular among the brutes of the world. She talked like one of the guys, tossed back jokes, and even had a healthy sensuality about her.

When Yukikaze entered after her, the adventurers all began to whistle.

“Hey, Yukikaze! I’ve been dying to see you!”

“I’ll buy! Why don’t you come sit with us?”

“Y-Yukikaze-chan... I love you...”

She seemed to be extremely popular in her own right, but her reaction was very cold, in contrast to Mikan’s. It seemed that her cool attitude and expression gave her her popularity.

“Hm. An inn-slash-restaurant, by the look of it...”

Seeing the Demon Lord enter after the pair, the crowded room instantly fell silent. They stared at his bizarre outfit, and jet black hair that was extremely rare on this continent. Many were overwhelmed just by his intimidating gaze as he inspected the place.

(Stonework walls and pillar. Looks like they got a real kitchen, too.)

The Demon Lord was simply accessing the foreign construction, but the crowd was enveloped with so much tension that you could probably hear a pin drop in the room.

“...What’s with the scary face, Mister Fox? Come sit.”

“I wasn’t making a face.”

He accepted Yukikaze’s offer and sat at a table. The owner had been frozen by fear upon seeing the Demon Lord, but he seemed to regain some courage seeing how Yukikaze spoke to him. He approached the table timidly.

“Y-Yukikaze... You’re traveling with this gentleman this time?”

“...Yes. Mister Fox is my partner. On the streets and in the sheets.”

“I’m not your partner. Anywhere.”

“...Bring a bucket of hot water to the room when we’re done.”

“Y-You got it... A-And you, sir...?”

“Bucket, huh...? How much is it?”

“T-Three bronze coins for cold water, and five for hot...”

“Hm. I’ll take a hot one.”

That was most likely used to clean up in the room. On this continent, baths were luxuries reserved for nobles and wealthy merchants. Most people cleaned with just a cloth and a little bit of water.

“While we’re here, I wouldn’t have minded a hot towel service.”

“...I can give you a hot service.”

“Not what I meant...”

The Demon Lord explained the Japanese culture of restaurants providing hot, steamed towels before meals for the patrons to wipe their hands with. It didn’t seem to register to Yukikaze why a restaurant would provide such a thing complimentarily.

“I think there’s a market for it. You get dusty going anywhere in this world.”

Because most of the roads aren’t paved, the Demon Lord assumed. While it wouldn’t have been the case if the roads were paved, carriages and people going down dirt roads would, naturally, raise some dust.

“...I don’t think that’s feasible, Mister Fox. The inn would lose money on it.”

“Let me ask you something. Those buckets of water. Do they sell well?”

“...Decently. The guild won’t give you jobs if you’re not presentable.” “Interesting...”

Hearing this, the Demon Lord sensed some mechanism behind the scenes. He guessed that the inns and the guild had a deal. If adventurers couldn’t get jobs without a certain level of cleanliness about them, they were forced to buy water. Even if the guild was promised only 10% of each sale in return, they would have jumped on the deal. It didn’t hurt the guild to have its roughand-tough members clean and presentable, either. In any world, it seemed that commoners were taken advantage of everywhere they went, a little bit at a time.

(Back in Japan, for example, everything was taxed...)

Sales tax, registration and license fees, local taxes, income tax, alcohol and tobacco tax... there were countless examples. Even the government-run lotteries were nicknamed “the poor-man’s tax.”

(But once laws are set, and it becomes a rule of society, it becomes acceptable...)

Not that he did this often, but the Demon Lord began to contemplate governmental tax systems. He personally would have abolished sales tax altogether to encourage spending, since less spending directly led to a worse economy.

“...Are you all right, Mister Fox? Do you want a hot service after all?”

“Not the one you’re thinking of.”

As the Demon Lord sat exasperated by Yukikaze, Mikan came back to the table, carrying a large tray. There were numerous oysters lined up on the tray, and the owner brought over some ale.

“Now let’s dig in! We’re splitting the check, by the way!”

“...Oysters. Not the prairie kind, though.”

Mikan held Mr. Just Use Me up to one of the oysters as she chugged a glass of ale. The Demon Lord could only shrug at her gallant drinking.

“This is the stuff! Ahh, I feel alive!”

“What a dad you are.”

“How dare you! I’m a young maiden of seventeen!”

Before the Demon Lord could comment back, Mikan poured vinegar onto one of the oysters and slurped it down.

“Mmmm! It heals all the stress I get from you two!”

After using Mr. Just Use Me herself, Yukikaze squeezed a lemon onto an oyster and sucked it down. Seeing her do this, the adventurers in the room erupted in cheer.

“I want Yukikaze-chan to suck on me...!”

“M’Lady may blush if she heard you.”

“Now now, gentlemen. Let’s keep it in our pants.”

Rolling his eyes at the crowd’s reaction, the Demon Lord used his Taste Test command for the first time in a while. The oyster in his hand glowed white, indicating that it was safe to consume. If it wasn’t, it would have glowed red. Suspicious of the glow, Mikan barked at him:

“W-What did you... just do?”

“The same thing that doll did. I checked for any poison.”

“You’re not a cleric. You’re the avatar of evil, if anything.”

“...Mikan, you’re the avatar of...Hrm.”

“Why don’t you have a drink, Yukikaze!?”

Mikan poured ale down Yukikaze’s throat to physically shut her up.

“...You drank from this glass after taking it raw... Are you trying to knock me up?”

“Will you never stop!?”

(They never stop...)

Ignoring the pair, the Demon Lord took an oyster. He could feel a longing in his throat satisfied at the first taste of seafood in a long time.

“Hm. Not bad.”

“...You like it raw too, Mister Fox? Erotic violence?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying anymore...”

The next plates the owner brought were boiled clams and green pea soup. “...I always eat these to rejuvenate from a long trip.”

“Hm. It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these,” the Demon Lord said, recalling Fishing, one of the skills in the game. It was something he had prepared for players who weren’t good at combat, but it had proven surprisingly popular, to the point where there were special arenas created only to host fishing tournaments.

(Seafood created by the Empire should taste really...Hm?)

He turned in the direction of the murmuring crowd to see twenty or so well-built men entering the store. The smell of their sweat and musk filled the restaurant.

“Yukikaze. Who are they?”

“...Miners who dig up Spell Stones. They’re sweaty.”

“Ah, no wonder they have the muscles.”

“...They smell bad.”

Yukikaze slyly buried her face into the Demon Lord’s suit, saying “I need to refresh my nose with your scent, Mister Fox.” The Demon Lord, on the other hand, was more interested in the miners’ loud conversation.

“That coward king... He doesn’t give a damn about us!”

“What do you mean, Mister Goda?”

“That coward... told us to protect the mining mountains ourselves!”

“Ourselves...? We’re facing down a foreign army!”

“He doesn’t want to stick his nose into conflict... All he cares about is counting money, and especially doesn’t care about men like us who get our hands dirty.”

“If they’re not here to protect us when we need them, what are we paying our taxes for...?”

The Demon Lord listened, interested, as he sipped on his ale. It seemed like the foreign military had begun to invade even the mines.

“All that coward talks about is condolences and discourse, he doesn’t get the picture!”

“M-Mister Goda... Keep your voice down a little.”

“How do you expect me to do that, Honekawa! We’re going to starve at this rate!”

Hearing the two distinctive names, the Demon Lord nearly spat out his ale. He didn’t know if he should have been amused or scared.

“Y-You two... I’m going up to the room. Let me know when we’re leaving.”

As if to avoid the whole situation, the Demon Lord left his seat in a hurry.

His journey up north seemed to be filled with turmoil already.

**Yukikaze**

Race: Human — Age: 16

'*'***Weapon:** **Snowy Valentine**

A staff that boosts the effects of Ice magic. Embedded with a Snow Crystal, called ‘the ice that never melts.’ While dwarves are known to only seldom craft items for humans, a particularly skilled dwarf crafted this weapon for Yukikaze after taking a liking to her. A top-tier weapon without question.

**Item:** **Santa in Black — Black Wind**

Crafted by a talented dwarf from an outfit called Santa in Black. Worn by a medium-rank devil. It boosts the wearer’s overall Magic Defense. Another top-tier piece of equipment.

Level: 13 — HP: ? — Stamina: ? — Attack: ? — Defense: ? — Dexterity: ? — Magic: 23 (+15) — Magic Defense: 15 (+15)

A B-rank adventurer with four stars. One of the best Spellcasters in the world, whose talents bloomed early. She wields class-4 spells, and is on her way to mastering class-5. If she were born a girl, she might have been a candidate to become a Holy Maiden. She likes the Demon Lord.

## Side Story: An Outcast from the West, Part 2

With outcasts in tow, the parade from the Tzardom of Light continued down the highway. Despite their incident in the New Kingdom of Xenobia, they had some pep in their step. After leaving Xenobia, they went around the land of Myrk, which was controlled by fearless nomads, and passed through another small nation before regaining their strength in the Republic of Edogawa. Their conduct was unbecoming of followers of the Light, as they had caused a ruckus everywhere they went, from high-end bars to brothels, and ceremoniously whipped their prisoners to demonstrate the ruthlessness of the Tzardom.

“We are almost at Euritheis, Bishop.”

“Hm. Our pilgrimage nears its end.”

“I am speechless.”

“The Light will be pleased.”

While all they had done was torture their prisoners, taste local wine and delicacies, and sleep with prostitutes along the way, they had somehow convinced themselves that their mission had a higher purpose.

“Bishop... Are we safe in this country?”

“You really don’t know anything about the politics around here, do you?”

“I’m ashamed to say it, Bishop... I apologize.”

“No need.”

The bishop nodded with glee, betraying his disdainful choice of words. In his eyes, military leaders were a lowly species reliant on violence. This commander seemed somewhat redeemable, given his sense of shame of his own ignorance.

“Monarchy fell quickly here. Then, a colosseum fighter rose up and eventually took control of the national army.”

“Incredible...!”

In the war-torn north, there were always nations springing to life, ceasing

to exist, being swallowed up, or getting flipped upside down in coups. At times, a man would wake as a king one day only to end up nailed to a cross before sundown. This country, Euritheis, seemed to have suffered that sort of turbulent fate as well.

“His name is Jack. Now he has started some business and does very well for himself.”

“I-I see...”

“Something the matter?”

“N-No, Bishop... It’s just...”

In contrast to his attitude in Xenobia, the bishop’s tone was not critical. In fact, he seemed to find it amusing. This Jack, in fact, seemed like just the kind of man the bishop would have normally insulted as some lowly ape.

“Fret not. Unlike the girl of Xenobia, Jack understands how the world works.”

“I-I see...”

The commander could only nod uncertainly at the bishop, but he soon understood what he meant. As the parade approached the capital, many citizens poured out onto the streets to welcome them. This was a huge difference from the nations they had passed through. The welcoming ceremony climaxed when they entered the castle in the capital. Soldiers in lavish armor lined up in formation, as a band dressed in flashy costumes cheerfully played their instruments. As the commander watched in shock, one stunning woman after another came up to the parade to greet each man.

“B-Bishop...? What’s...?”

“As I’ve told you, Jack understands the way of the world. He recognized the reign of our Tzardom.”

While the commander seemed nervous at this degree of welcome he had never experienced before, he couldn’t help but grin at the wave of gorgeous women trotting towards them.

“Sir High Knight, won’t you visit me at my inn, tonight? I would love to have you over!”

“Let me touch your sword, Sir...!”

“W-Wait a minute... I’m no knight...”

Many of the women went as far as to hand him a piece of paper with their address on it. Even as the commander struggled to react, his expression became more elated with every interaction.

“T-This is troublesome... The women here think I’m a High Knight...”

Catching the bishop’s glance, the commander hurriedly cleared his throat and straightened his back, but he received no scolding.

“No harm in it. Our journey is nearing an end. Once we return to our homeland, we will each be another step closer to the almighty Light. Nothing to fear.”

“I-Is that true, Bishop...!?”

The bishop’s words implied an upcoming promotion. The bishop must have assessed this commander to be a pawn he could easily handle.

“What’s up, Bishop? I’ve been itching for you to get here...”

Eventually, a fearsome man appeared with numerous advisors in tow.

Seeing the bishop dismount his horse, everyone else hurriedly followed.

“It has been too long, Jack.”

“...You said it. You’re looking a lot more criminal than you did last time.

You’d fit right in with my chief officers, here.”

“In your dreams, Jack.”

The two shared a familiar laugh and patted each other on the shoulders as they entered the castle gate. One could catch a glimpse in this interaction of how close Jack’s ties to the Tzardom of Light were.

As the band carried on the fanfare, a man standing atop the castle gate muttered to himself:

“Heh... That’s the party of the Light...? What is the world coming to?”

Wearing worn-out armor, he seemed to be an ordinary man in his 30s, save for his exceptionally sharp glare. Perhaps from lack of funds, he had a piece of leaf in his mouth instead of a cigar, moving it up and down.

“They’re from the Tzardom we’ve heard so much about, Eyze. They look like they’re loaded!”

“Heh, I bet they are. The Light’s a rather business-savvy god, it seems.”

Eyze chuckled with sarcasm. He was one of the guards who guarded the gates of Euritheis, tasked with picking out any dangerous figures among those who passed through. The young man next to him was a new hire.

“Oh, but what about the crowd behind them? They look pretty beat up...”

“Slaves about to get sold. That’s what happens when you lose a war.”

“Wait, doesn’t the Tzardom worship the Great Light...? T-They sell people!?”

“They’ll sell anything for a coin. The Great Light’s the light reflecting off

of those gold and silver coins.”

“N-No...!”

Eyze had a good laugh at the expense of the newbie’s naive reaction.

Soon, he was sure, his green compadre would become as jaded as he was. “Judging by how cheery the boss is, there’s going to be a good deal.”

“W-What’s the deal...?”

“The thing. The one that gets you high above the clouds.”

“You mean...”

“I guess they’d call it a pain reliever.”

The new guard’s face turned green, as he apparently had heard enough. In the castle, the lavish party continued in welcoming the Tzardom’s troupe, but Jack and the bishop had excused themselves at a certain point and began their secret meeting in a glitzy room.

“You’ve prepared the goods?”

“No duh. I’m not about to disappoint one of my best customers.”

“We’re taking the sea route this time.”

“Smart move. Less chance and risk of getting caught.”

There was a large chance of bandits striking at night when traveling along the main road. Often, entire militias would turn bandit. Depending on the goods, they could have very well been attacked by some mercenaries, too. On the other hand, the sea route was relatively safe, and allowed for transporting much more of the goods at once.

“Hellion territory, huh...? That’s devotion if I’ve ever seen it.”

“With the Light’s guidance, it is our duty to face any tribulations that may come our way.”

As Jack spat out some sarcasm, the bishop took it as if it were breeze in the wind.

“...I hear one of your prisoners is a demi-human.”

“News travels fast.”

With a chuckle, the bishop recited the pre-meal prayer. While it was almost inaudible, Jack curiously watched the bishop’s mouth. After his prayer, the bishop solemnly took a bite of the ground veal. It was an extravagant take on the dish, with bread crumbs and egg yolk mixed in, seasoned with sugar and spice.

Eating a piece of fruit from his plate, Jack muttered lowly, “What if I told you that I wanted it...?”

After chewing the bite of meat in his mouth thoroughly, the bishop grimaced.

“You do like your elaborate meals, don’t you? This is one I’ve never seen before,” he remarked, ignoring the question. On their plates were many thin slices of apple peel, which were (peculiarly) all buttered, fried, and sugared.

“Hm. The sweetness of butter and apple melt together in your mouth.”

“Hmph! No rush. Answer me when you’re ready.” While Jack raised a brow at the bishop’s attitude, he didn’t show any sign of anger. He was expecting a giant payload for this deal, after all. The bishop’s thoughts seemed to be in a similar place, as he appeared to be nothing but pleasant, unlike how he acted in Xenobia. The Tzardom troupe would purchase a large quantity of dangerous drugs here before heading to Hellion territory by ship. They would sell the flock of prisoners in Hellion territory before heading home. This was one sinister parade in the shadows of the Great Light’s glorious title.

“You performed one interesting prayer just now.”

“...How do you mean?”

The bishop poured the alcohol from his glass down his throat in a dignified manner. It was an amaretto, made from apricot and an assortment of other fruits and herbs. The strong alcohol blushed the bishop’s cheeks a little.

“If I heard you right, you were praying to the Goddess, not the Light.”

“...Now, Jack. Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Unfortunately, I’m sober.”

While Jack had been drinking the same strong spirit, he wasn’t intoxicated in the slightest. This man could handle his drink as well as his notoriety suggested.

“I’m not one of your inquisitors. Who’s going to give a shit?”

“Hmph...”

“To tell you the truth, I much prefer the fickle Goddess of Destiny over some grandiose Light.”

“Tactless to say so in front of a bishop...”

“Why not pray to a gorgeous babe, if anybody?”

Moira, the Goddess of Destiny. She was a character of mythos, often depicted alongside the Great Light and Lucifer, the Fallen Angel. The goddess had plenty of uproarious legends, like turning a poor man into a tycoon overnight, changing a man’s moment of death, and even forcing the Great Light itself to follow a destiny she set forth.

“Did you know, Bishop...? The Goddess is a lot more popular with the folks on the street.”

“The Goddess of... Moira, is said to be closer to man, because of her fickle nature.”

Nearly using the goddess’ full title, the bishop hurriedly corrected his syntax. In his country, any discussion of the goddess was practically outlawed.

“Ha ha! How inconvenient for you. All this power doesn’t get you far, does it?”

Jack laughed in the bishop’s face, as he looked like he just bit into a lemon. There was a reason for the goddess becoming taboo — according to mythology, the Goddess of Destiny suddenly disappeared one day. On the fateful day when Lucifer fell from Heaven... the Great Light suffered a historical loss against the sudden uprising. It was said that this was the day that turned the course of the Great War. That was also the story of how the Ruler of Night was born. While the truth of it was up for debate, there had always been those that secretly believed that the Goddess of Destiny had rebelled against the Light along with Lucifer.

“Nowadays, people pray to the Goddess of Destiny for health and longevity, success in battle, and even for good luck in gambling. She’s staying pretty busy.”

Jack laughed, amused. The Tzardom’s gag law held no ground in other nations. It seemed that the goddess and her various tales were much more approachable than the Great Light, which was nowhere to be found. Even the bishop had long lost his faith in the Great Light. He, too, was once a devoted young man, but as he grew older, he learned the nooks and crannies of life. After getting his hands as dirty as he needed to get ahead, he had earned the title of bishop. Each time he crossed a perilous bridge along the way, he had prayed to the Goddess of Destiny, and he had been rewarded for it. Who could have blamed him for substituting his faith in the Light for faith in Destiny? While their backgrounds were different, his experience was similar to how Luna came to believe in the Wise Angel. People devoted themselves to entities that granted their wishes.

“Jack, I didn’t peg you for the religious type.”

“Didn’t say I was. People like you and I are too worldly. That light could

be blinding.”

Jack lit his cigar and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. His life, too, had consisted of one perilous path after another. Surely, there were times when he prayed to the Goddess of Destiny without telling another soul. Picking up on this fact, the bishop uttered a sentence he never would have in his home country.

“The Goddess of Destiny favors the strong-willed.”

“I agree. The weak will never be more than prey.”

As these two were sharing a drink... The captured prisoners were crammed together in a stable with no doors. With garbage and debris around them, it was like they were huddled on the streets of the slums.

“Eat it.”

“Thank the Light for your merciful treatment.”

There were some breadcrumbs in the box presented to them, but it was far from a meal. More like bird feed, if anything. Still, the starved prisoners swarmed to the box, shoveling crumbs into their mouths. Watching them, the Tzardom’s soldiers burst out laughing.

“Look at that! And they think they’re human!”

“These must be a type of bird or swine.”

“Don’t spill it! You better lap up every single one of those crumbs on the ground!”

“Hey, where’d the demi-human go...?”

The soldiers looked around them. The demi-human seemed too weak to eat, laying on her back and looking up at the moon. She had torn-up clothes, revealing fresh whip wounds all over her body, and she was dirty from head to toe, but her portrait was still undeniably beautiful. In the moonlight, she even had a sense of mystique. One of the soldiers gulped.

“H-Hey... Why shouldn’t we have a little fun, huh?”

“Wh... With that thing!?”

“They’ll all be dead when we get there, anyway. So...”

With that, each of their eyes began to gleam. One of the soldiers grabbed the demi-human by the shoulders, and forcibly brought her to her feet.

“L-Little something for the road... Let’s have some fun.”

Breathing heavily, the soldier tried to drag the demi-human into a dark corner.

“...Let me go.”

“Shut up! I’m going to give you a taste of a real human!”

“What hopeless scum you are... Arfgh.”

The soldier slugged her as hard as he could, and she fell to the ground. Seeing that, the other soldiers couldn’t seem to contain themselves as they all jumped on the demi-human. At the same time, the other men began advancing on the good-looking women. It must have seemed unfair for them to be stuck on watch while the rest of their troupe was partying in the castle.

“L-Let go of me!”

“Nooo!”

“H-Hey... Is that what your Light commands you to do!?”

“Shut the hell up, you stinking heretics!”

“Now now, people of the Tzardom, calm yourselves...”

After the area erupted into a cacophony of shouts and screams, everyone came to a halt, hearing this voice seemingly come out of nowhere. The voice belonged to Eyze, who had been atop the castle gate earlier.

“Who the hell are you!?”

“You’re telling us what to do!?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dare... But don’t you think it’s a little tactless for a troupe of the glorious Tzardom to mess around with that filth in our lavish capital?”

Even those about to take off their clothes came to a halt. They must have realized that causing a dishonorable commotion now could cost them dearly in the near future, especially if the bishop were to catch wind of it.

“That being said, I understand your frustration. The rest of your comrades are enjoying amazing food and wine with babes at their sides.”

“T-That’s right...”

“He’s right! It’s not fair at all...”

The men and women of the Tzardom troupe chimed in.

“Right, I get it. So, we at the Jack of All Trades would like to host your welcome party.”

“What?”

“For real!?”

Perhaps he thought that merely calming the storm now could lead to the same situation in a few days. Eyze skillfully manipulated them in order to keep the noise down.

“Now, please enjoy yourselves at an establishment of your choice. Of

course, everything is on us.”

“W-Wow...!”

“B-But, what about the watch...?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be taking care of that, too.”

“R-Really...? Jack’s business didn’t get its reputation for nothing! They know how to entertain.”

Hearing Eyze’s invitation, they all got up, muttering all sorts of excuses.

“Now, that was an embarrassing display I’ve made.” “We would have gone too far to give any compassion to them.” “If you could not bother the bishop with any of this...”

“Of course. You must have been overzealous with your enthusiasm to complete your mission.” Spouting pleasantries, Eyze cheerfully sent all of them off. The new hire behind him approached Eyze as they watched the Tzardom troupe leave.

“A-Are you sure it was all right... to do that?”

“Yeah. Boss would rather pay up than have them cause a scene out here, too. He should be smiling ear-to-ear right now from that deal.”

“O-Okay...”

“Hey! You guys get back to the stable!”

Scared by Eyze, the prisoners returned to the stable with a begrudging look in their eyes. From their point of view, the Tzardom, Euritheis, Eyze, and everything around them was the same.

“W-We helped them out... I feel kind of ripped off.”

“That’s just how the cookie crumbles. I wasn’t trying to help them, anyway. I’d rather be one of them than be forced to keep watch listening to raping and screaming.”

As if they had forgotten about those two guards, the Tzar’s soldiers cheerfully patted each other on their backs and went out into the city.

“In any case...”

“What’s wrong, Eyze?”

“They’re all going to die.”

Jolted by the sudden notion, the new recruit turned back to Eyze. Eyze had been working as a gate guard because of his rare ability to tell benevolent and malicious people apart, and he was especially sensitive to looming death. Thanks to this ability, he avoided as many dangerous people as possible and managed to survive this long.

“W-What do you mean ‘die’...?”

“I dunno, that’s just what I see. Besides, no one’s going to miss them.”

With that, Eyze yawned and looked up to the moon, bored. Outside the stable, the demi-human girl was on her back, covered in dust.

“You head back in too. If you can’t stand, I’ll give you a hand?”

“...Don’t bother.”

“All right.”

Eyze said nothing more. At the same time, he tried his best to not look at her, in order to avoid seeing where the poor little girl would end up.

## Those Who Swarm

——An underground facility in an unknown location.

“That dragon... Don’t think you can get away with this...”

Utopia had been unable to conceal his frustration since the incident. His followers had expended three Satanic Crosses (each created through an excruciatingly long process) with nothing to show for it. Carnival, a powerful medium-rank devil had vanished, and even the high-ranking devil Allit, the Duke of Darkness, had been defeated. A devil’s nightmare. According to Utopia’s estimation, they should have at least greatly damaged the barriers protecting the Holy Castle, even if they didn’t have the firepower to take it down completely. All calculations were torn to shreds, however, by the unthinkable appearance of a Demon Lord and a Dragonborn. This scenario would not have even held ground as a joke before. Of course, Utopia did not believe in the resurrection of the Demon Lord, but considered it to be like a fairy tale. If such an existence had been resurrected, Utopia was sure that it would have appeared in Hellion territory to rule over it and all of its inhabitants. By this time, such an existence would have swept through the entire continent in a storm of bloodshed.

For Utopia, there was a figure that he couldn’t ignore, who piqued his interest much more than some con artist who called himself the Demon Lord.

The other one.

Once, he would have brushed it off as a rumor, but this was the Dragon’s second appearance. Utopia could kill the Dragon a thousand times, but his thirst for vengeance would still not be quenched. The Dragon, while claiming neutrality, practically sat at the top of the demi-human pyramid, which included the Anima. Time and time again, the Dragon had interfered with the war between Hellions and the Anima. In the end, the Dragon had sided with the Anima for the simple reason of “having his home torn apart,” before obliterating tens of thousands of Hellions with his unparalleled power. To top it off, he gave a portion of his blood and power to a Dragonborn to rule over the Anima. His task, according to the Dragon, was to “keep the unruly Anima under control, and keep them from engaging in stupid conflicts with the Hellions.” The Hellions would have argued that appointing someone with his own power to rule one side of the conflict was far from neutral of the dragon.

This was why Utopia could not ignore the new Dragonborn. From the Hellions’ point of view, he was surely another enemy sent down by the Dragon.

“Lord Utopia... Where did this horde come from...?”

Warlkin addressed Utopia, who was lost in thought. Numerous people, men and women of varying age, had been gathered in this location. Every one of them were skin and bone, and seemed to lack any willpower to protest.

They seemed too drained to even take a step, their eyes devoid of any spirit.

Warlkin felt something ominous about those eyes.

“No need for concern. I am giving them salvation.”

“...Salvation...?”

Warlkin turned to Utopia inquisitively. He seemed rather strange to Warlkin recently. Before, he had always acted with the confidence and guidance of the great leader that he was. Lately, he had been on edge, raising his voice even over trivial matters.

“Just as happiness comes in many forms, so too does salvation.”

Warlkin couldn’t help but internally sigh at the riddling reply. Utopia had no intention of giving a straight answer. Many Satanists had died in the last battle, and many of them didn’t get along with Warlkin. While most of them were hot-blooded, he was the odd man out, always the type to construct logical steps to achieve a plan. While everyone around him clamored for death and destruction, he alone had calculated a meticulous plan and ambushed the Holy Maidens before using Tartarus. In fact, he had them cornered. While his scheme ended in a failure, it was only due to the unexpected Zero. There was nothing wrong with his plan itself, and yet all Warlkin had to show for it was a reputation as a coward. The Satanists had a custom, like many isolated groups throughout history, that shamed survival without victory. They found beauty in a warrior’s death.

(Stupid... What good would I be dead...?)

Since Warlkin had the ideals to better his country at his core, he didn’t subscribe to this belief. Once his life would end, so would his patriotism.

(Where is this nation headed to...?)

Warlkin pondered, looking up at the throne.

——Dona Dona’s manor

Azur opened the door and twisted his handsome face ever so slightly. Inside, a hulk of a man was straddling a little girl, pummeling her body as hard as he could. Every part of the girl’s face and body was bruised and bloated from internal bleeding. At a glance, she only looked like a bag stuffed with meat.

“Milligan, you’ve captured another girl from the slums?”

“Don’t glare at me like that. I’m just goofing around.”

The girl had been long dead, but the man didn’t seem to pay mind to that fact as he continued bludgeoning her body.

“It will hurt our lord’s reputation. I’ve told you before.”

“Don’t be such a square. Your precious Lord Dona gets more toys than anyone.”

The man’s name was Milligan. He was one of Dona’s long-time mercenaries. While Azur ranked above him, he didn’t have to answer to Azur. Dona liked Milligan’s wildness, and let him do as he pleased. Perhaps he liked to have a rabid dog around for protection.

“Orders from our lord. You are to head to the village of Rabbi and research...”

“Hey! I finally get a chance to play with some Bunnies, huh!? Hell yeah!”

“Milligan. I said, ‘research.’”

“Tsk... A-All right. Cool it with the eyes, man.”

After Milligan exited the room, Azur rang a bell for the man-servants of the manor. He couldn’t have any of the female servants witness such a scene.

“Bury her, please. With reverence.”

“Yes, sir.”

The servants seemed to be accustomed to this chore. They quickly wrapped the girl’s corpse in a black cloth before carrying it out of the manor. Their expressions lacked any real emotion, as they must have concealed it all to earn their living. In actuality, working in this manor brought in good money. They all started out giddy of their good pay, but eventually their enthusiasm would dampen, and over time, they all became expressionless.

Azur would have described it as a faceless manor filled with gold.

(Not that I have a face to speak of...)

Azur twisted his lips with a sense of self-deprecation as he contemplated the village of Rabbi, where a man who called himself the Demon Lord lived. For some reason, the man had traveled north beyond the border. Azur’s master, Dona, was quick to react. While contacting the Demon Lord was forbidden by the Holy Maidens, Dona came up with the childish excuse that, as long as the Demon Lord was absent, he was free to search the village.

Although, no one could stop him from acting upon childish instinct and logic. The only thing keeping him from crossing the line entirely was White. A sense of foreboding flashed over Azur.

(There might even be a secret order to steal the music box from the village if it’s there...)

Azur could tell that it was excruciatingly humiliating for Dona to have that music box slip out of his clutches. Each day and night since the auction, Dona had been cursing Buttersauce. One might have wondered why Dona didn’t bet, say, 100 gold medallions if he wanted the item so badly. But this is where the prideful nature of nobles came into play. The elegance of winning by a small margin through a one-time psychological battle was the only form of noble victory. If Dona had written something like ‘100 gold medallions’ on that sheet, the room would have rolled their eyes at him. He would only be left with some nasty comments by those in the room, not respect.

“Milligan... There’s no way he’s not going to make a mess out of this.”

While Azur acknowledged this, he had no way of stopping him. Milligan was one of Dona’s own projects, and owed no loyalty to anyone else. All Azur could do was pray for the mess to be a small one. Of course, life wouldn’t prove to be that easy... In the village of Rabbi, there was a man trusted by the Demon Lord and a terror-inflicting witch, after all.

## Rookie

——Near the borders of the Republic of Edogawa.

The carriage carrying the Demon Lord was approaching its destination: the most bustling city in the Republic of Edogawa. It was located in the southwestern region of the Northern Nations, neighboring Animania across a mountain range.

“Is that really what this country is called...?”

“Sounds kind of historical, doesn’t it? Why do you complain so much?”

The name “Edogawa” reminded the Demon Lord of a certain childdetective, but he doubted that Mikan would understand.

“What’s the town called? It’s not ‘Conantown’ or ‘Case Closed City’ or something, is it?”

“...The town of Rookie. That’s where the Bastille Dungeon is.”

“Rookie, huh? So it’s a town full of noobs.”

“...Very perceptive, Mister Fox.”

Since Yukikaze gave a round of applause for him, the Demon Lord struck a pose staring out of the carriage.

“You idiot,” Mikan mumbled as she tossed a piece of candy into her mouth.

As much as she complained, it seemed that she enjoyed the sweetness of the candy.

“Wh-What, is this!? It’s spicy!? My throat feels breezy!”

“Hm, it seems you got the menthot flavor. Menthol, I mean.”

“...Now you’re easy and breezy, Mikan.”

“Hey, you want me to just go? I think I’ll just go!”

After calming Mikan down enough so she wouldn’t leave the party, the Demon Lord asked a few questions about the town of Rookie. According to the two adventurers, the name of Rookie was born out of the Bastille Dungeon. It originally had a different name, before it was renamed due to all of the rookie adventurers gathering at the dungeon.

“Bastille, hm? That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“...Deep down in the dungeon, there is a prison-like structure.”

“Oh. So it used to be a facility to keep something contained?”

“...I don’t know. A prison of love?”

“There’s something wrong with your verbal cortex.”

Then the Demon Lord continued his questions. He wasn’t usually such a detail-oriented type, but he made sure to find out as much as he could about any information he deemed necessary. He was the type of person to never clean his room, but cleaned it meticulously during spring cleaning.

How were so many things still found in the dungeon? Why didn’t the dungeon run out of items? Where were the monsters in the dungeon coming from? Why haven’t those monsters been hunted to extinction? Did monsters procreate? In a sense, all of the Demon Lord’s questions were rudimentary, yet neither Yukikaze nor Mikan could answer them, as they hadn’t even considered these questions before. For people born in this world, these things were only natural and nothing seemed strange about them. Just like no one in modern times would question a power line along the streets. On the other hand, if someone from this world were to see such a thing, they would have a million questions to ask about the power lines, the poles that held them, and so much more.

“...Do you prefer to be a warden?”

“What are you talking about?”

“...Or a prisoner of the dungeon, Mister Fox?”

“Neither. I don’t enjoy confinement, one way or the other.”

“...So cool, Mister Fox.”

Yukikaze stared at the Demon Lord with rosy cheeks. Of course, the Demon Lord didn’t say anything special, but his appearance, coupled with his attitude, somehow gave reverence to everything he said. Giving them a sideeye, Mikan sipped on her water with a frown on her face. The menthol flavor didn’t seem to have left her mouth yet.

“Don’t enjoy confinement, my butt. You’re already confining me.”

“...Mikan likes to be tied up. Candle wax too.”

“Hm... I’m not one to judge anyone’s kinks, but be careful out there.”

“I can’t stand these people anymore!” ——The town of Rookie.

“This town’s pretty developed,” the Demon Lord said cheerfully.

The opposite reaction from the one he had upon seeing Aku’s village or the village of Rabbi for the first time. He didn’t dislike bustling towns, but he didn’t mind the solemn air found in places like temples, either. In short, he wanted it all.

As expected, people walking the streets of the town looked to be adventurers. Some carried swords, others looked like stereotypical mages, and some were transporting large luggage on the backs of camel-like animals.

(A lot more civilians than I imagined. Making money off the adventurers,

I guess.)

In a town full of adventurers, specialized businesses emerged to serve them. In addition to food and drink, they needed tool shops and inns, as well as demanded bars and brothels.

(I’ve heard that, throughout history, towns naturally formed around military bases.)

The Demon Lord wasn’t wrong. A military base signified thousands of potential customers. A business opportunity not to be missed.

“Adventurers, merchants... and a decent number of wealthy-looking people.”

“All this country’s got is the dungeon. No one’s stupid enough to invade it when Animania’s next door.”

“Hm... A clever moat of sorts.”

“Something like that. A lot of wealthy people evacuate here during war season. Just so you know, I’m not talking to you. I’m just talking to myself.”

Seeing Mikan talk while looking the other way, the Demon Lord couldn’t help but chuckle. For all of her complaining, she had a kind nature.

“I do thank you. I like people who can compensate for my shortcomings or do things that I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to like me. Again, just talking to myself.”

“Unfortunate. I wanted to invite you to my salt and tangerine bath as a token of my gratitude.”

“What could that be!? ... Talking to myself, of course...”

Mikan couldn’t help but now turn to look back at the Demon Lord. She loved the fruit that was her namesake. Yukikaze then uttered an icy comment:

“...Mikan likes playing with herself.”

“Shut up, Yukikaze!”

“...By ‘playing with herself,’ I mean...hrm!”

Mikan covered Yukikaze’s mouth to force it shut. Her bronze skin contrasted against Yukikaze’s alabaster skin, making the already bizarre scene into a spectacle. As he listened in to them with one ear, the Demon Lord carefully surveyed the passing people and his surroundings. While part of this was so he could come back with Quick Travel, he just wanted to cherish the things he saw with his own eyes.

He made sure to fully swallow everything he was told, too, before processing it through his own internal filter and storing it into his memory bank. While this might have seemed like an ordinary process, the Demon Lord did it for every single piece of information he received. For others, that was surely extraordinary. That’s how Akira Ono was able to create his own world over the course of fifteen years — extraordinary willpower and solitude. Creating a world, finishing it, and vanishing it all on his own. He was sort of a god, dictator, and Demon Lord in that way.

“Room’s not bad for the low rate...”

Poking around the room, the Demon Lord ran his hand along the wall. It looked like the walls were made out of some sort of dirt, but they felt very hard to the touch, so they must have been cemented with Earth magic. Depending on the power level of the spell’s caster, it could temper dirt as hard as concrete. Since many of the rookies that gathered at this town would drink and brawl, even a cheap inn had to be of sound structure. Down to every door and chair, things were extremely well made.

“...Why here, Mister Fox? If you don’t have money, I can be the breadwinner.”

“I’m not ready to be a housewife. It’s all part of the experience... It’s something I can only do now.”

In fact, the Demon Lord was not short on funds at all. He had sold the Holy Coin of Ramd (that Yu acquired) for a whopping 120 gold medallions.

While he left 110 of them with Tahara, he was still holding onto ten of them. In this world, that was a small fortune. When he had Aku, Luna, or Tron in tow, he couldn’t casually stay at a cheap inn out of safety concerns. When he had his advisors with him, he would have to rent a good room to keep up appearances. Things like this he could only do on a solo mission.

“...I’ll support you from now on, Mister Fox. Three square meals and a nap. I will serve you day and night.”

“You’re a freeloader creating machine, aren’t you?”

“...You can sleep in all day, Mister Fox. I’ll take it all in at night.”

“More like a waste-of-space creating machine...”

Frowning, the Demon Lord tied his hair up. Ever since his encounter with White, he often used some sort of hair tie to bunch up his hair while winding down. The pre-Demon Lord Akira Ono never had long hair, so this took some time to adjust to.

“...Don’t you ever want a haircut, Mister Fox?”

“It was a feature I really liked.”

“...A feature?”

“Never mind.”

“...But I like your hair up, too. You’re handsome, Mister Fox.”

Standing on her tippy toes, Yukikaze touched his hair with both hands. In her eyes, the Demon Lord’s black hair had a very exotic allure. In fact, no one in this world had pitch-black hair. Everything about the Demon Lord — his outfit, onyx eyes, and jet-black hair — exuded a foreign aura... to say nothing of his overwhelming power. In this world rich with non-human species, humans were not exactly at the top of the food chain. In many senses of the word, humans fell prey to other species, save for a few exceptional cases. In this world, strength was justice, suavity, and power. It was only natural that the Demon Lord was particularly popular among adventurers, who prioritized strength above all else.

“Let’s rest for the night and head to the Bastille Dungeon tomorrow.”

“...I would happily be imprisoned with you, Mister Fox.”

“I should have asked you this sooner... How old are you, exactly?”

“...Just turned sixteen. Mikan’s a year older than me.” “What a baby,” the Demon Lord mumbled.

From his perspective, at the high-school-graduating age of eighteen, he could see only a glimpse of maturity. He wouldn’t consider anyone under twenty to be a fully-fledged adult.

“Well, kid. Play hard, eat a ton, and work on yourself while you’re still young.”

Grabbing Yukikaze by her collar, he carried her out of the room like he would a cat. With a quick wave, he then relentlessly slammed the door in her face. In spite of this beautiful girl(?)’s advances, the Demon Lord didn’t even go for a nibble of the bait. On the other hand...

“...Mister Fox does really care about me.”

Yukikaze’s misunderstandings were compounding. In her mind, their feelings for each other were mutual. Time and time again the Demon Lord had suggested that through actions like this. At this point, she had begun imagining their wedding. If the Demon Lord were to find out, he would be astounded. Just as his willpower was strong, so was Yukikaze’s. Who knew where this tug-of-war was headed?

——The next morning

Mikan woke up on time, got ready, and left the room. She was emphatic about punctuality, and made sure to be ten minutes early to everything. She was a rare specimen among the majority of tardy adventurers. Her discipline aided in her raising the difficult-to-wield longsword to the Master Level, as well as climb the ladder to become a B-rank adventurer.

“That Demon Lord better be up by now...”

Already irritated, Mikan headed towards the Demon Lord’s room. While her stoic self and the mischievous Demon Lord were never destined to get along, he saw her as an easy target for mockery.

(If he’s still snoring in there, I’ll kick the pillow out from under his head...)

As she reached the door and held up her fist to knock, she could hear two voices from within. The frown on her forehead slightly lessened.

(At the very least, he *seems* punctual.)

However, there was something strange about the conversation she could overhear.

“Hm. I didn’t expect so much to come out. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“...So much white stuff... Mister Fox... It’s too much...”

“Nonsense. I’m far from satisfied.”

*Whap! Whap!* A forceful sound — that seemed to pound on Mikan’s insides — could be heard. She rushed to open the door.

“What are you two doing!?”

The Demon Lord was beating the dust out of the mattress by the window.

An awkward silence filled the room.

“Just dusting the mattress... What did you think we were doing?”

“...Mister Fox is a Demon Lord in the bedroom.”

“You and your phrases!”

And so, the bizarre trio embarked on their way to the dungeon. The Demon Lord was about to pop his dungeon-crawling cherry...

**Mikan**

Race: Human — Age: 17

'*'***Weapon**  **Ogreblade**

A longsword previously held by an ogre variant. Mikan has attached numerous Spell Stones to increase its weight. Its destructive powers are topnotch, and no one could doubt Mikan’s swordswomanship for being able to wield such a weapon.

**Item**  **Scarlet Panther**

A high-class armor made from the hide of a red panther. Very flexible and non-impeding, it absorbs a lot of damage from blunt and cutting attacks.

Level: 12 — HP: ? — Stamina: ? — Attack: 15 (+15) — Defense: 10 (+10) — Dexterity: 20 — Magic: 3 — Magic Defense: 5 (+5)

A four-star, B-rank adventurer. In a world where most adventurers are Rookies, she sticks out against the crowd. She has learned various longsword skills through her large amount of combat experience. One couldn’t ask for much more from a frontline warrior. Her favorite food? Tangerines (or mikan, in Japanese). Her least favorite person? The Demon Lord.

## The Line

——Fort Arthur, on the border of the Republic of Edogawa.

In addition to being the home of the Bastille Dungeon, the first destination of most adventurers, the Republic of Edogawa had another important characteristic: the fact that they were the neighbor of Animania, home to various demi-human species. Animania was formed not only by Animas, but also from a melting pot of elves, dwarfs, giants, and many other species.

While Edogawa’s fort on the border was manned by numerous soldiers, there wasn’t really a defense to speak of on the Animania’s side of the border, only an expansive forest. They didn’t consider any invasion by humans to be much of a threat. In fact, their physical and magical capacities, as well as their weapons and armor, were on another level from those of their human neighbors.

It was another day of complaining for the soldiers guarding the border.

“Dammit. I can’t wait to go back to Doyle.”

“You said it. We could drop dead any day out here.”

While the town of Doyle behind them had all the entertainment facilities they could want, they were at a frontline base. Brothels and bars could only be found in their daydreams. Those kinds of things were taboo at this active stronghold.

Now a pair of Star Players had paid them a visit: Mynk, the S-rank adventurer, and Olgan, the Hellion.

“I thought we were going to relax at Suneo...”

“Sorry. We need to deal with this, first.”

“You know I broke all sorts of bones, right?”

“Hurry up and heal them, then.”

While Mynk complained, Olgan was having none of it. In the meantime, a group of demi-humans had appeared, parting the thick forest. If the Star Players weren’t there, the fortress would have erupted in panic. Olgan jumped off the side of the fortress and approached the group. Mynk silently followed. The group was comprised of a Minotaur with large horns protruding from their head, and a dwarf. While Mynk and Olgan couldn’t see them, they could sense more figures further into the woods. Stroking his beard, the dwarf stuck out his hand.

“Where’s the stuff, lass?”

“Here.”

She produced some things from her bag (Mr. Handy). The dwarf inspected them for a while by tapping them with his finger and holding them up to the light before giving a nod.

“These are it. Claws of a Molten Eater and fangs of a Catberus.”

The demi-human residents of Animania, for the most part, disliked humans and hated Hellions. While humans were endlessly enchanted by the craftsmanship of dwarves and elves, the same could not be said for the other way around. This was simply because of the gap in their products’ quality, in addition to the difference in currency. Naturally, trading proved to be difficult under these conditions. The only exception that held any sort of value for the residents of Animania were monster parts that could not be obtained in their own country. Of course, every part they wanted had to be harvested from extremely dangerous creatures which only a handful of humans in the entire world could hunt. These two Star Players were on that very short list. The dwarf turned his head toward the forest behind him; a cat folk, with cat ears and tail, and a giant emerged. The soldiers murmured at the sight of them, and Mynk whispered into Olgan’s ear.

“Hey, why are they always together?”

“Drinking buddies.”

“Then, can’t we just bring them alcohol?”

“Apparently our spirits are undrinkable to them.”

“Seriously, where do they get off...?”

“Dwarves have always been picky about food and drink.”

Mynk’s impression of the demi-humans, who looked down on humans as inferior, was not favorable. Olgan, on the other hand, seemed to value this trade, and kept a straight face.

“Hey, cat. The rest is your job.”

“Be sure to give mew some drinks later, old man! Fire Drink and Thunder

Water, too.”

“Shit, Thunder Water, too...? You got some thick skin, you know that?” “I’m a cat, after all. Of course I have thick fur.”

The cat and the dwarf argued for a minute. When they settled down, the girl with cat ears approached the humans. “The same topic, purr usual?”

“Yes.”

The cat whispered something into Olgan’s ear. Olgan nodded at times, and grunted or sighed heavily at other times.

“Its powers are growing...”

“Yep. I’m feline bad for you!” the cat said casually and retreated into the forest. The rest of the party followed without a word. The meeting concluded with a cut-and-dry silence, no greetings. Olgan fell deep in thought when Mynk gently tapped her shoulder.

“So, did you get the info you wanted?”

“...Yeah.”

“Let’s go. No sense standing around here.”

“Where to?”

“Let’s catch a break at Doyle. The black phoenix that slumbers in my right eye whispers the same to me.”

“Right. Black phoenix, huh? You just want to sleep in a warm bed.” Mynk and Olgan’s exchange continued as normal.

“Oh, speaking of... apparently the paladin boy’s in this country.”

“Hmph, that hypocrite. It’s never enough...”

“Come on, it’s cute. Thanks to people like him, my darkness has a chance to shine.”

Olgan rolled her eyes before floating up in the air. Mynk jumped her way up onto the fortress, and the pair started on their way to the town of Doyle.

## The Bastille Dungeon — Level 1

(It’s crowded... but the energy isn’t bad.)

The Demon Lord cracked a smile upon seeing the bustling plaza. Some were yelling into the crowd to sell food or drink, some had herbs laid out for sale, and some were even recruiting party members to go into the dungeon with. The Bastille Dungeon was at the center of the city, surrounded by the town. It was no exaggeration to say that the dungeon itself was the economic engine of the area and a business in its own right. Where people gathered, all sorts of business opportunities were born.

“The entry fee was one gold medallion, right?”

“That’s right. And the government takes 10% of the revenue you earn from selling the items and monster parts down there... Just talking to myself, by the way.”

“10% isn’t too unfair for a tax. Rather reasonable, in fact.”

“Are you kidding? We’re risking our lives every time we go in... Still talking to myself, though!”

As he overheard Mikan “talking to herself,” the Demon Lord realized that this dungeon was a money-printing machine for the country. Various items and monsters replenished themselves in the dungeon, so the government was reaping a killing in tax revenue by having adventurers do all of the legwork hunting and collecting them. They weren’t hiring these adventurers in any capacity, so it wasn’t the state’s problem if any of them were to get injured or died. The adventurers were practically a colony of ants raking in money for the government until death.

(Even the supply of adventurers is automatically replenished...)

The Demon Lord formed this kind of impression, but he didn’t say it out loud for fear of insulting many of the adventurers there. This time, he asked Yukikaze about something he was wondering.

“You said most of the Northern Nations have at least one of these dungeons or ruins, right?”

“...Mm-hm. Many places are much more dangerous than here.”

“I see. That’s how they can be at war all year long.”

“...What do you mean?”

“A source of income, I should say. Never mind.”

Since monster hides, horns, fangs, tails, and things of that nature were valuable, these dungeons were like an endless goldmine. As they approached the entrance of the dungeon, he could see numerous shops crowded together, vitalizing the area despite the early hour. A branch of the Adventurers’ Guild stood closest to the entrance, accompanied by the tax collector’s office right next to it. It seemed that dungeon-crawlers would come out of the dungeon and immediately sell the loot at the guild.

(This is a straight-up day-labor site.)

With no kind of social security to speak of, the crawlers earned only from their day labor, paying taxes on the spot. The Demon Lord could imagine that any money left over from their loot disappeared on booze, women, clothes, and the like. This might have been a fine lifestyle for the young and healthy, but when the adventurers grew older, injured, or ill, they would no longer have the ability to dungeon-crawl. Of course, neither the Adventurers’ Guild nor the government would lend a helping hand at that point.

“No surprise that a bunch of them retire, never getting past the Rookie stage. They’re just laborers with no prospects for the future.”

“...You’re right, Mister Fox, but adventurers can win big, too.”

“Like finding a rare item?”

“...Mm-hm. I know some people who’ve won big and bought a house or a farm.”

(Playing the lottery with your life until you’re ground down to the bone...

Not that I don’t appreciate that kind of lifestyle.)

At the end of the day, the Demon Lord didn’t dislike the ‘go big or go home’ mentality. That’s why he had poured so much detail into the casino, which was extraneous to the game, and repeatedly updated it. His excessive work and gambling spirit was epitomized in the most difficult game of chance in the casino. If a player had won at that game, that week’s Game would have ended then and there, providing the winner with a special ending and liberating all of the players. That being said, not a single person had managed to win at that game...

“A lot of them have large bags or boxes on them.”

They were shouting out prices like ‘six bronze medallions!’ Some were approached by adventurers and negotiating.

“Who are they, Mikan?”

“Don’t say my name... Those are porters. They carry your loot.”

“Hm. So you can make them carry the load.”

“The good ones can take apart monsters, too, so they can get pretty expensive. If you want one, you’re paying for them.”

“I don’t need one.”

The Demon Lord could throw as many items as he wanted into the Item Folder. It was as if he had a pocket that connected to another dimension. Technically, each player in the game could only hold up to ten items, excluding their equipment. They could carry five by default, and could add on up to another five (one at a time) by purchasing Back-up Back Packs at the shops. On the other hand, the advisors of the Sleepless Castle held ninetyfive of the Back-up Back Packs from the start of the game, allowing them to hold a total of one hundred items.

(Even the Back-up Back Packs act like their design...)

Just as it was for Bases, the Back-up Back Pack ignored the size and mass

of the item. One could easily throw a pick-up truck into one of those. When that kind of effect came to life, what else could one describe it as other than magic?

(Now, let’s farm SP off some monsters. I doubt I’ll come across a magical item here.)

It was a rookie dungeon, after all. The Demon Lord’s objective for this expedition was to become accustomed to the dungeon itself, as well as with the adventurers around him. He didn’t know the next time when he would get to dungeon-crawl with a party. Part of it was that he had to keep up appearances if one of his advisors or the kids happened to tag along.

“Oh, and you’re acting as a porter.”

“That’s my role?”

“...Because you’re not registered as an adventurer, Mister Fox.”

“Can’t be helped. Let’s go with that for the time being.”

“Oh, and you’re going to carry as much as we tell you to!” Mikan triumphantly declared in an attempt to retaliate for all of the stress he had caused her.

“Porter, huh...? You can leave it to me.”

“I’ll show you what it means to be an adventure...err!!?”

The Demon Lord pulled Mikan close by her waist before picking her up under his arm and walking on. Considering that Mikan was carrying a longsword, this would not have been an easy feat for someone with ordinary strength.

“L-Let me go! I-I didn’t tell you to carry *me*!” “...You’re dead, Mikan.”

——B1 Level of the Bastille Dungeon

(This is a dungeon, huh...? Wonder who made this thing...)

The party was greeted with a passage after descending the long flight of stairs from the dungeon’s entrance. It seemed like a mine shaft dug ages ago, like a stereotypical cave in fantasy pieces. Besides, the pathway was wide enough to fit twenty men shoulder-to-shoulder. Who could have made this place? That question kept coming back to the Demon Lord.

“Mikan, how long has this dungeon been around, anyway?”

“Grr!”

Mikan growled towards the Demon Lord. She seemed to be on edge after

he carried her under his arm a minute ago. Mikan prided herself in her physical strength, and she couldn’t even put up a fight against him. Part of it, surely, was humiliation.

“There’s not much to fear when there are so many people.”

Since a large number of adventurers had poured into the dungeon, it seemed more like a crowded tourist destination than the beginning of an adventure. While they were still on the first level, the atmosphere was far from that of a life-risking endeavor.

“...Lots of people until we get past the third level. Much less after that.”

As Yukikaze answered, a large-snail like creature emerged from the dark corner of the pathway. It was knee-height, and approached the party as it twisted its boneless body.

“A Sand Snail. Wow, does that take me back.”

“...Reminds me of my Rookie days.”

(It’s just huge and gross...)

While Yukikaze and Mikan watched the creature with nostalgia, the thing was an unbelievably large snail for the Demon Lord. No amount of salt seemed enough to dissolve this one.

“Heh. Let’s hunt one for old time’s sake.”

Swinging her longsword, Mikan diced the snail’s soft body, then drew her dagger from her waist to swiftly remove the shell from its body.

“Mikan. That shell’s the loot?”

“That’s right. If you shatter this and mix it in dirt, it hardens it.”

“Hm. Building materials, then.”

“...It gets rock hard.”

Mikan tossed the shell to the Demon Lord as if it was a basketball. He caught it effortlessly, and inspected it with a serious expression for a while by stroking it, tapping it, and focusing on details.

“About how much do you get for one of these?”

“...Depends on the season. Usually, about five bronze coins for three of them.”

“It goes for more before big battles.”

“I see. In order to build fortresses and bases, I bet. Probably useful for rebuilding damaged areas, too.”

A similar phenomenon took place in the real world, where construction materials flew off shelves after natural disasters. Throughout history, while disasters and wars wrought casualties, they also stimulated all sorts of demands. Through constant war, the Northern Nations, strangely enough, were invigorating various markets.

“...Carry it... Snow Dolly.”

With the wave of Yukikaze’s wand, a large wagon emerged, made of snow and ice. This was a dolly that followed behind the castor, and could carry various goods. Since adjusting its temperature allowed one to freeze the goods on it, it came in handy when transporting meat without letting it spoil.

“...Stick it in, Mister Fox. The rock hard... erm.”

“Suck on that for a while.”

The Demon Lord threw a piece of candy into Yukikaze’s mouth as he tossed the shell onto the dolly. As an expert thrower, both motions were flawless. If he wanted to, he could throw anything with the precision of threading a needle.

“I’ve been wondering... What happens with the monster carcass?”

“Huh? It disappears after a while.”

“Even though this shell won’t?”

“I can’t explain it. It’s a different object once it’s been cut off, right?”

“It’s just so sloppy and vague...”

When the Demon Lord mumbled his complaint, a loud voice and the sound of a whistle could be heard from further into the dungeon. Yukikaze and Mikan’s expressions shifted at hearing the whistle. After listening for a combination of three peculiar sounds, the pair became excited.

“That signal... It’s a Monster Party! Now we’re talking!”

“...Let the party begin.”

“Party?”

The Demon Lord noticed the adventurers around them starting to run. Most of their faces were red with excitement, as aggressive shouts and even laughter could be heard from them. The adventurers began setting up torches and Spell Stones along the walls and ceiling to rapidly light up the dungeon.

“All right! Let’s go, guys!”

“Yeah!”

The adventurers roared back in response to Mikan’s call. The excited voices spread like a massive wave, and they could hear the stampede of a crowd behind them. Grabbing hold of the longsword from her back, Mikan sprinted into the dungeon without hesitation, like a wild panther.

“...Wait until I come, too, Mikan.”

“I’m not one to miss out on a party.”

Enjoying the energy of the crowd, with a flourish of his coat, the Demon Lord began to run.

## Monster Party and the Village of Rabbi

——A Monster Party spawn location in the Bastille Dungeon.

The crowd of adventurers were frantically culling Sand Snails. Somehow, countless Sand Snails and Giant Crows were rushing towards them. The adventurers hunted one monster after another, storing their loot into bags and boxes. All of the porters were busy running back and forth, too. While the beak of a Giant Crow had some value, the best prize for hunting a Giant Crow was its feathers. While they were often used for arrows, they were also used to decorate clothes and armor as well. About twelve feathers could be obtained from each crow, which sold for one bronze medallion as a set. Naturally, though, if any of the feathers were damaged, the price decreased.

Everyone around the Demon Lord was in a frenzy of dismantling snails and plucking crows. With more and more people rushing over from behind them, the whole dungeon was filled with cacophonous energy. No wonder people called this a party. Mikan had joined the fray, gleefully wielding her dagger. While these targets were pennies to a dollar compared to her usual loot, it seemed that Monster Parties had an irresistible excitement for an adventurer.

“...Back in the day, Monster Parties kept us afloat.” “Something like a bonus,” the Demon Lord mumbled.

For the adventurers, though, matters were surely more dire. Many of them didn’t know if they could afford shelter or food for the day. To top it off, their career could end in an instant if they were to get hurt. It was only natural for them to want to make and save as much money as possible while they still could. However, as he watched the crowd of people in a commotion, the Demon Lord was reminded of an entirely different time...

“This brings me back...”

“...Mister Fox?”

“Oh, just reminiscing.”

With nostalgia, the Demon Lord stared off into the distance. He was remembering various scenes from the game. The time when it was so populated that people could barely sign up, when someone won big at the casino and caused a whole commotion, all of the special event battles, and the once-in-a-blue-moon raid of the Sleepless Castles. All of these scenes had been burned into his memory in black and white. They didn’t hold their colors anymore.

“This is their party. I don’t want an outsider like me to crash it.”

As the Demon Lord turned his back, he could hear loud footsteps approaching from the end of the dungeon. As the footsteps grew nearer, a giant, rusted, metal-plated golem appeared.

“Crap! Here comes Tin Man!”

“Someone stop it with magic!”

“No one’s got a trap on them!?”

The Tin Man golem was slow. Still, it remained undaunted no matter how many rookies swung their weapons at it. In fact, swords broke and hammers bent. When the Tin Man forcefully swung its arm out, three adventurers went flying.

“...Mister Fox. That thing’s a little too much for rookies.”

“Hm...”

Yukikaze looked at the Demon Lord expectantly. Mikan began to run over to Tin Man with her longsword in hand, but a red beam fired passed her before she got the chance. It was the Demon Lord’s Sodom’s Fire. In an instant, Tin Man’s face blew up like it was a toy. Tin Man stood still for a few moments, as if it couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, before falling to the ground with a loud crashing noise. The adventurers who had gathered for the party all turned to the Demon Lord.

“Excuse the intrusion... Please, party on.”

“...Party on.”

As the Demon Lord turned to leave, Yukikaze followed after with a cute wave of her wand. The adventurers were taken aback for a while, but the commotion continued to grow again. The party wasn’t over, after all.

“W-Who was that!?”

“What did he throw...?”

“Snap out of it! This is our meal ticket right here!”

“Hold on a second! Who gets the Tin Man parts?”

“The guy who killed it ain’t here. Jump on it!”

“Forget the Sand Snails! Peel the metal off of the Tin Man!”

While the men snapped out of their surprise and swarmed the Tin Man, the female adventurers began chatting about another matter. Many were starstruck by the Demon Lord’s overwhelming strength and distinguished appearance.

“What a handsome man... Who is he!?”

“Is the chick next to him his girlfriend?”

“Dammit... It’s all about the looks, isn’t it?! A girl’s gotta be cute in this world!”

Amidst the clamor of the adventurers, Mikan shouted out, “don’t ditch me like you came here alone!”

She would have made it easier on herself if she had just left the dungeon then, but Mikan wasn’t the type to do that. She was the type to chase the hurricane. With Mikan following the pair out, the adventurers delighted in their first monster party in a while.

——The hot springs resort in the village of Rabbi.

“Madame, what is this oriental masterpiece...!?”

A lucky group of thirty noble wives were collectively breathtaken at everything about the resort, from its fantastical aura and wind chimes ringing to the breeze, to the polished floors that showed their reflections and the beautiful Bunnies in revealing outfits... There was nothing like this facility anywhere else in this country, maybe not even in this entire world.

“Please. This is a door called a Fusuma.”

“D-Door...? If this is touched every time someone enters the room...!”

“Its beauty shines brighter with use.”

The Madame returned a smile filled with confidence at the murmuring ladies. Thanks to Tahara’s detailed explanations, the Madame was now fluent in describing the resort’s facilities. She wasn’t just the sole provider of the figurative ticket for the facility, but also the pioneer of knowledge for the ladies. Her power and knowledge regarding the facility only boosted her charisma in it. With the chattering group in tow, the Madame continued toward the hot springs. There, she had further astonishment for them in store. Once they experienced that... they would never be able to truly leave the facility. They would never be free from it.

(That Madame’s some character.)

Tahara came out of Stealth Stance to reveal himself standing in a corner of the hallway. Each one of those thirty noble wives was the leader of their house, the ones who wore the pants in their marriage. To be revered as a leader among them was no easy feat. She was truly an empress.

(Pretty soon, we might have a big ol’ treasure hoard on our hands...)

Scratching his head, Tahara lit a cigarette. The truth was that a night’s stay at this resort was not all that expensive, since the Demon Lord declared that ‘a gold coin would do.’ While the equivalent of $1000 might seem expensive, it was an incredible bargain considering the amenities that came with it. The thing was, the price for the stay itself didn’t really matter. To improve the Demon Lord’s reputation, the listed price was best kept comparable to the high-end hotels in other cities. The real profit would come from the referrals taking place under the surface. A deal had already been struck with the Madame that she would split any goods and money that were sure to be sent her way. There was no need for an unreasonable price setting. Initially, the Madame had made it clear that she didn’t want a single bronze coin, as long as she could live at the resort, but the Demon Lord insisted that both parties had to win in order to hold up a bargain. Reluctantly, the Madame agreed to the Demon Lord’s insistence. As he blew out delicious smoke, Tahara recalled his meeting with the Secretary, the only man that stood above him.

*Listen, Tahara. Any local goods you obtain, sell them to a merchant named McBonald in the city of Yahooo, much lower than market price. Build a good relationship with him. It’s more urgent to build one trustworthy partnership than casting a wide net. Make him think that a relationship will make him good money.*

*So, the plan’s to have him buy our stuff for a good price with that money we helped him make?*

*Naturally. In business, trust is built from making your partners money before, and at times more than, yourself.*

*Makes sense. And what do we do with the money we make...?*

*Use it all to improve and expand the village of Rabbi. It’s obvious that the 110 gold medallions won’t cut it after a while. And don’t skimp on the Bunnies’ food, housing, clothes and pay. We will make it rain gold on this village.*

*...Is that part of ‘garnering a reputation,’ Mister Secretary?*

*That’s a part of it, at least...*

That’s where their conversation had ended before the Demon Lord headed north. While the Demon Lord’s last line suggested some implication, he didn’t really have any subtext in mind. He simply thought that their business wouldn’t last if the houses or clothes of their Bunnie employees were tattered. However, Tahara inferred another meaning from it.

(Making gold rain on this run-down village? That’s a presentation of our power and prowess to those around us. All the surrounding villages are going to be hella jealous. They’ll eventually end up questioning the competency of their own lords.)

Heavy taxation without any benefits... A gloomy life to live. And on the other side, the grass is golden. Who could possibly stand for that?

(This is a non-violent invasion, with a nice and thick sugarcoat on top of it.)

Tahara recalled a certain sentence. Even with his brains, he was struggling to discern exactly what it meant.

*I plan to go in the opposite direction of the Empire.*

“All right... I mean, it’s not a rotten deal.”

The way of the Empire, naturally, was violent occupation. The invasion the Demon Lord was working on now, however, was of a different color. In fact, this was the sort of invasion that would make the occupants beg for their villages to be taken under their rule.

“Gra hah ha! Mister Secretary’s as fearsome as ever. I hope I never cross his path.”

Putting his cigarette out in a portable ashtray, Tahara stepped out of the resort. He had much work left to do, after all.

## Tahara’s Inspection

Ever since the group of noble wives were led to the hot springs by the Madame, they had been in a tizzy. They were convinced, upon seeing the spotless tiles, numerous tubs, the steam that filled the area, the vibrant baths and the showers that emitted hot water at the push of a button... that they were in a bonafide fairytale paradise.

“What is this soap!?”

“My hair... My dried up hair is all hydrated...!”

“Ooh... I just want to melt in this bubble bath...”

“Rock... bathing...? I’ve never done anything like this before...”

The group seemed endlessly amazed, confused, and elated. How could they have helped it? They were in a paradise where all of their dreams came true. The promised land that all women dreamed about. As the Madame explained the amenities to one wife at a time, the female Bunnies entered every now and again with glasses of water and juice, each chilled with plenty of ice. At the star-gazing bath, guests could request chilled wine and ale, too.

This paradise melted them from the inside and out.

(There’s no way out now, ladies...)

The Madame smiled as she soaked in her favorite herbal bath, Green Forest. Her smile wasn’t a malicious one, though. More like the grin of a child who had successfully pulled off a prank. Just the knowledge of this dreamlike facility was worth a fortune. To top it off, these women were the inaugural guests. They would pride themselves on that fact, and brag about their experience to everyone around them until their ears fell off. In noble society where novelty is treasured, the fact that they had experienced this first would profit these ladies down the road. Free advertisement.

“I’m never leaving this bath...!”

“And I’m not leaving this electric bath... Ooooh!”

“This deep bath is so relaxing.”

“Please... I want to try that bath, too.”

“No! This tub is mine!”

Watching the group squabble like schoolgirls, the Madame couldn’t help but burst out laughing. She had enough self-awareness to know that, if she hadn’t been in acquaintance with Luna, she likely would have ended up among these ladies.

(Splitting it down the middle...)

The Madame guessed that the referral fees for this facility would become much more expensive than they imagined. Why split it down the middle? The Madame recalled her asking Tahara that very question. At the same time, she remembered Tahara’s sleepy eyes and seemingly inattentive demeanor.

(Isami Tahara. He’s a scary man... And a good-looking one.)

The Madame felt a sense of terror about him. The Demon Lord’s righthand man would surely kill anyone his order dictated him to without mercy. Even if his target was a literal angel. And the blue light gleaming deep within his eyes that appeared every now and again... That was something that never tired a woman.

(Although, it still couldn’t hold a candle to the Demon Lord’s allure...)

For a woman like the Madame, who had seen many men in her time, both the Demon Lord and Tahara were exquisite specimens. Their allure, a combination of dripping masculinity and life-threatening danger, was practically magical. As the scent of the forest enveloped her, Tahara’s voice replayed in her head.

*Splitting it down the middle means we’re eating out of the same bucket. At the very least, we don’t have to worry as much about being stabbed in the back. I’m sure you’re familiar with these kinds of things.*

He was right. No one was stupid enough to kick their partner off of a seesaw when they wanted it to keep going. They’d end up losing out themselves.

*Besides, moving dead money around isn’t a bad deal. If people at the top do nothing but sit on their money, the economy comes to a halt and starts rotting, and the people down below end up suffering. That’s how it works, no matter what world you’re in.*

The Madame saw the Demon Lord as someone who was going to force the economic wheel to turn, turning the dead money into means and vitality for the commoners. In a way, the Madame wasn’t misunderstanding.

(That Demon Lord will eventually take this country and the entire continent by storm...)

The Madame had no objection to that. In fact, she fully supported his efforts. As far back as she could remember, the Madame had always cursed the body she was born with, and prayed to the Angel to change it. Her dire prayers were never once answered, until the Demon Lord, someone darker than the void, had vanquished her destiny. His deep voice replayed in her ears.

(*Welcome... to my world.*)

Every time it did, the Madame was electrified from her head to toe, from fear of the unknown. Still, his voice carried a mystical reverberation that convinced the Madame that she would be guided through to the end.

(That Demon Lord is my angel...)

According to legend, the Demon Lord was an extremely fearsome existence. Oddly enough, the moniker of the fallen angel Lucifer (who was said to rebel against the Great Light in the days of old) was ‘the Demon Lord.’ The Madame couldn’t help but imagine the fallen angel when she saw him undauntedly exclaim that he made everything he said a reality. She was confident that the Demon Lord she knew would have no problem defying the heavens. In fact, he would surely grab the heavens by its throat, pin it to the ground, and try to bend it into submission.

(An angel and Demon lord, all at once. I could search the whole world and not find anyone else like him...)

The Madame sank into her tub as she imagined such things. The fragrance of the forest quietly overtook her. She relished the sensation of lying in a tub of hot water in the middle of the woods.

——Construction site in the village of Rabbi.

“Good thing these constructions are going on.”

“We barely get by during war season...”

Still in Stealth Stance, Tahara was walking around the village. While most of the workers were full-time carpenters and construction workers, there were quite a few adventurers among them, too. Their physical strength and vitality was well-suited for manual labor, and their pay from the village was five bronze medallions. With the current market, it was a sweet deal for them to earn that much without risking their lives. Of course, the full-time carpenters specialized in this kind of work made at least double that. It was only natural that there was a pay gap between meatheads and professionals who had spent years honing their technique. Perhaps, in any world, the smart way to live was to hold down a day job and gain experience and technique in that field.

In that sense, adventuring was the polar opposite of a typical day job. Since no adventurer would dungeon-crawl alone, each day’s loot had to be divvied out, which made the job even more unstable. Dungeon-crawling with a twenty-man team, for example, would be much less dangerous than going with a smaller party, but the expected pay in that case would never put enough food on the table for everyone. As a result, most of them took on dungeons in teams of two to four, since that provided a reasonable balance of safety and share of loot. Many rookies had died charging into a dungeon alone, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear of a few adventurers getting cocky and going down with a team too small, only to never return.

“The public bath here is amazing!”

“You said it. I almost want to move here just for it...”

“They’re not going to make an inn, huh?”

As he listened in on people’s conversations, Tahara checked the progress of construction in detail. He had paid particular attention to the road that was to be the backbone of the village. He had it paved with good-quality stone and repeatedly coated with magic to make sure it would never crack. This was because he was sure that many carriages would be going back and forth on it.

(I better increase the number of shuttle carriages...)

As the adventurers pointed out, the village had no inns. Workers were shuttled in via carriages from the Holy City and Yahooo. They were living ads, too. To spread word of mouth, Tahara had to have the workers return to their cities each day. They would return to their cities and tell stories of the public bath, say that there were jobs available in the village of Rabbi, and talk about the mysterious large-scale construction taking place. Ordinarily, this would come across sketchy if it wasn’t for Luna being in charge of the village and the construction. With her authority alone, the project suddenly became a public development. Just like the reliable image of Uncle Sam, this provided the workers with peace of mind.

(Speaking of the Holy Maiden...)

Tahara arrived at the Bunnies’ residential area to find Luna standing atop a wooden box, looking self-important. They were in the process of moving the farms to this area, but a much better soil was being used. It wasn’t any ordinary soil, but a very nutritious soil that was called ‘Something Reddish Brown.’ They further mixed in plenty of the Empire’s fertilizer. Any crop would spring up in this soil.

(I’d love to grow all sorts of vegetables, to be honest...)

Tahara would have preferred to go wide in the market by selling things like cabbages, cucumbers, eggplants, potatoes, radishes, and onions alongside the carrots, but the carrots were by far the most popular crop on the market. Since only Bunnies could successfully grow them, they had a complete monopoly. As a result, Tahara was forced to reach the conclusion that growing carrots was the most profitable course of action.

“Make some elegant carrots worthy of my name!”

“...How’s a crop supposed to be elegant?”

“Ahh! Don’t pop out of nowhere like that! You stalker!”

“Why would I ever stalk you, little girl...?”

Lighting his cigarette, Tahara watched the Bunnies happily at work. He had been alternating the farming team and facility-worker team at the moment, but planned to eventually assign each Bunnie permanently according to aptitude and preference.

“We can probably make the farm even bigger... Impressive work,” Tahara mumbled as he blew out smoke.

The Bunnies were much too productive for their numbers. ‘Having a knack for farm work’ would have been an understatement.

(I bet the earth and the crops love the Bunnies as much they love them back...)

That was a conclusion only Tahara could reach, as someone who was unconditionally loved by all firearms. During the Game, pointing a gun at this man was a terrible idea. Guns would frequently jam, causing the attack to miss. Worst case, the gun would misfire and destroy itself. Considering that the mainstream weapon of the Game could not be used against him, Tahara was the most troublesome enemy out there. While he was somehow popular among female players, he would always be jeered at by the male players with comments like: ‘Sister-lover!’ ‘Look at that annoying face!’ or ‘Just die, already!’

“S-So... When’s he coming back?”

“Hm?”

“Y-You know! W-When is he...!?”

“Oh, Mister Secretary? Jeesh, you and Yu...”

Tahara shook his head, exasperated. His boss was a chick magnet, as always. Even in Tahara’s original world, the Demon Lord was one of, if not the, most famous person in the entire world. As the host and master of the Game, he frequently appeared on TV, occupying every single screen in the world by himself. Movie stars had nothing on him, while the viewers mostly felt hatred for him instead of adoration.

(I mean, I guess people knew our names and faces, too...)

By the same accord, the advisors of the Sleepless Castle were also celebrities. They had special programs aired on TV, so everyone knew their names. Each of them had an astronomical bounty on their head, enough for one to spend ten lives in the lap of luxury. All Tahara really had to do was watch people of this world not have a particular reaction upon seeing him to be confident that he really was in an alternate world.

(I remember the secretary had some fanatic fans...)

As it probably was the case with many TV-popular celebrities, there existed a fanatic fan club in support of Hakuto Kunai, called The Nine (since the name Kunai started with the Japanese Kanji that meant ‘9’). They would wear various hats, arm bands, and accessories decorated with variations of the number 9. Throughout history, no matter how despicable or criminal that person was, there had often been groups that treated those notorious figures like ordinary celebrities. Akira Ono had written that backstory to add a bit of dark humor, which of course, became a reality in the Empire’s world. “I guess you’re one of The Nine, little girl...”

“Nine?”

“Never mind that. I’ll just tell him you miss him.”

“W-W-Who’s missing who, exactly!? I couldn’t care less if he never came back!”

“Uh-huh.”

Tahara brushed her off as he walked further into the commoners’ area.