—Covering an entire nation with a single banner.
A tyrant once called this a “triumph of the will.”
Then, when all nations of the world are covered with that flag...
Would that be God’s will?
...Akira Ono, Memorial
Neo Universe
“Are you serious, Mister Ono? You’re really going to get rid of this place?”
“Get rid of it? More like induce a rebirth.”
“So you’re getting rid of it. Don’t play semantics.”
“It’s not semantics. It’s just the next step.”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony.
The year was 1999. The entire world was buzzing about the Great King.
“What about the people who enjoy it? Who enjoy this space?”
“Naturally, they can come on over to the next one.”
“...Think about it, Mister Ono. Sure, you made the game, but...”
“I think it’s natural to move on, taking the experience and knowledge we’ve earned with us.”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony.
There was no Great King, after all. The year was 2000. Neo Universe. The world had turned a new page.
“You’re not thinking about the ones you leave behind in the dirt, though.”
“In the dirt... Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. A new millennium. Chaos everywhere. The world was changing, after all.
“I liked it here. To be honest, it pisses me off to see you’re ready to move on so easily.”
“I’ll make sure you’ll like the next one, too.”
“I feel like you haven’t really been listening to me...”
...XX has joined...
“Cool your jets, guys. Don’t spend a day like this fighting, LOL! It’s the year 2000! Come on! Let’s drink!”
“I’m not in the mood. I’m signing off for the day.”
...XXX has left...
“That sucks... I thought it’d be received better than that.”
“It’s just ‘cus that little one loved this place. LOL like a mother’s cooking.”
“The game’s going to be so much better. I’m sure of it.”
“You really are optimistic. Give me some of your courage so I can go find a job, LOL.”
“Then go find one instead of drinking, LOL.”
“Never! How could I work during this momentous 2000th year of our calendar!?”
Type type type type. A new millennium had begun. The year was 2000. Let us take the glorious first step.
“...People come and go, don’t they?”
“Hah? LOL, you drunk?”
“Whatever. Just watch. I’ll make the next game the most popular one yet.”
“Hell yeah. I’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth, captain. LOL like I got anything else to do, LOL.”
“Get a job.”
Type type type type. The monotonous clacking echoed.
“You know the worst part? The Great King never came, LOL. I was kind of hoping he’d blow up the world, LOL. Nostradamus? What a dick, LOL.”
“You do get into that kind of voodoo...”
“And you don’t, do you, Akira?”
“Great King, my ass. I’ll show the world a real Demon Lord in the next game.”
Type type type type. The world disappeared.
Chapter Four: The Demon Lord on the Move
The Clown and the Bandit
“...and, voila! My arm is back on my body... good as new!”
In the city-states to the east of the nations north of Holylight, a clown was performing a breathtaking trick. The clown was Carmiya, who had miraculously escaped the grasp of the Empire’s witch. Carmiya, always an opportunist, had developed a new trick after his encounter at Artemis, and toured the performance to put food on his table. A new kind of trick... the unbelievable feat of detaching his arms and putting them back on at will. Of course, this was only made possible by Yu’s little trick of her own. But now, Carmiya was able to detach his arms by himself. With nothing to lose, he had turned this into a performance act, which drew thunderous applause wherever he went. Soon, he was constantly being booked by nobles from around the continent. Even now, his audience watched with bated breath, then exclaimed in delight at Carmiya’s every move.
(This isn’t good...)
Despite the success of his performance, Carmiya looked gloomy. There was a man in the audience who never so much as grinned, maintaining the expression of a Michael Myers mask. Frustratingly, the man was one of the most powerful figures in the city-states. He sat in an extravagant chair as if to distance himself from the crowd around him. In front of him was a table piled high with expensive fruits and wine. Anyone would have pegged him as an aristocrat. He even carried an elegance reminiscent of that status. His ice-cold expression slightly shifted, as he uttered:
“Boring.”
Immediately, the applauding crowd lost all color from their faces, and the area fell silent. At the same time, some extremely well-built men stood up. The man’s comment was practically a death sentence for Carmiya.
(Crap... I really don’t like where this is going...!)
Unaffected by the cowering Carmiya and the crowd, an old woman started mumbling.
“How bizarre... An arm cut off and put back again... Maybe if I was younger, I’d understand...”
Hearing the old woman, the man crooked his neck. She had remained silent throughout the show, so he had assumed that she was uninterested.
“It’s a cheap party trick, Catherine.”
“B-But, Dear Leader! After his arms were detached so...”
Watching the old woman stammer, the man laughed. He wore a gentle smile he showed exclusively in her presence.
“Catherine. You have remained as pure as a maiden, after all these years.”
“P-Please... Dear Leader...”
“I hope you’ll always grace me with your beauty.”
Perhaps she thought that she was being mocked. The old woman tucked in her chin, embarrassed. The crowd remained silent in witnessing the peculiar atmosphere about these two.
(This is my only shot... right now!)
Seizing this opportunity, Carmiya made a move. Somehow, he produced a stunning bouquet of balloon flowers and presented it with reverence.
“Ah, balloon flowers...”
The man’s cutting gaze loosened, just a little.
“Purity. Elegance. Never-changing love and a never-shifting heart... It’s as if these flowers were created for you, Catherine.”
“D-Dear Leader... Please don’t tease this poor old hag...”
Seemingly pleased by Catherine’s reaction, the man snapped his fingers. An order for his people to accept the bouquet and reward the clown. This man usually used as few words as he could, so his subjects had to infer his intentions from subtle cues.
“An incredible honor, sir... May there be eternal happiness upon the Dear Leader and Lady Catherine.”
“Hmph...”
Carmiya took a deep bow, hand to his chest. Further pleased by Carmiya’s show of respect for Catherine, the man snapped his fingers again. A rare sight.
Carmiya nearly jumped as a woman the size of a boulder appeared, but maintained face like any good clown should.
“A parting gift from the Dear Leader. Accept it with gratitude,” the woman said.
“S-S-S-Such an exquisite...! My tears of honor are turning to roses...”
“Beat it already, Chattermouth...!”
“Agh!”
All it took was a simple command from such an intimidating figure to send Carmiya scrambling away. In additi
on to his gift, he was given a travel permit. Most any country in this world taxed travelers as they came and went, and even taxed their possessions. With this permit, though, Carmiya could bypass all of that.
(Lucky... I am so lucky lately!)
Considering he had had the otherworldly experience of having both of his arms severed, Carmiya’s life was getting better and better. This clown might have been the luckiest of them all.
(Now, where to go next...)
Recalling that night at Artemis, Carmiya renewed his resolve to never go anywhere near Holylight as long as he lived.
“I cannot run into that witch again...”
Carmiya made a correct assessment. However, whether or not the witch’s boss would stay in Holylight was another question entirely.
...Meanwhile, in the village of Rabbi...
A certain bandit was peeking over the fence.
“Looks like this place has gone through some changes...”
“What’s the matter, Boss?”
“Wasn’t this the village with those... Bunnies, or something?”
Wo Wungol and his remaining men. They had been through a lot from being flicked into oblivion by the Demon Lord and taking Luna’s magic to the face.
(This used to be a rundown village with nothing even worth robbing...)
As he was the leader of a gang of bandits, Wo Wungol knew about most villages and towns in Holylight, especially their financial worth. To his knowledge, the only thing this desolate village had to offer was carrots, courtesy of the Bunnies. With their population declining, he was expecting the village to be deserted in the next three years. Now, the village was strangely energized, the Bunnies toiling with vitality.
(Did someone drop some pocket change here...? Nah... This ain’t that cheap.)
Wo Wungol, with his intuition as a seasoned bandit, was sniffing out something in the air. He was particularly sensitive to the smells of treasure and danger. Without them, he wouldn’t have survived this long robbing people in Queen’s territory. Mount Fuji, who had him beat in both physical strength and leadership, was now the Holy Maiden’s lackey after being beaten to a pulp by her.
(Ol’ Fuji’s gotten soft... Makes my job a hell of a lot harder.)
Reminiscing about the giant whom he once stormed the continent with side-by-side, the bandit leader spat on the ground, annoyed. After Fuji had turned, Queen’s army pushed harder than ever, finally cornering Wo Wungol’s gang into the eastern corner of Holylight. East Holylight was nothing but a wasteland people couldn’t even be paid to live in. Naturally, juicy prey was hard to come by in such a landscape.
(I hadn’t touched the carrots here ‘cus I didn’t have a buyer, but...)
Carrots were an extremely precious commodity on this continent. As such, legitimate status, connections, and trust were required to sell any. Of course, these bandits had none of those.
“Boss. We gonna snag some carrots from here?”
“Or Bunny-nap some cottontails?”
“You morons. We mess with one Bunny, and the Holy Maidens will hound us to the ends of the earth.”
The leader shook his head, tired of his subordinates’ incompetence. They were already being watched. Mess with a village that belonged to a Holy Maiden, and they could very well have a real army on their tail.
Once, Wo Wungol had found himself surrounded by a battalion led by Marshall Harts, only to barely escape with his life. He had lost every single one of his men that day, and was forced to spend a large amount of time rebuilding his gang.
“One of you stay as a messenger. The rest, go back to the hideout.”
“Aye-aye!”
After sending his men back to their hideout, Wo Wungol decided to see for himself what the source of the village’s vitality was. The village looked the same as before: rugged land, abandoned houses, and dried up farms that the villagers must have desperately tried to revitalize at one point. At first glance, nothing seemed different.
The pair snuck into an empty house, and quietly waited for something to happen.
“B-Boss... How long are we gonna stay here?”
“Keep your mouth shut.”
Carefully, Wo Wungol observed the village. Their stakeout had lasted into the dead of night when his subordinate finally threw in the towel.
“There ain’t nothing in this village, Boss... I’m getting hungry, anyhow...”
His boss ignored him. Finding a treasure trove required patience, concentration, and extreme attention to detail. If it came down to it, the bandit leader was willing to stake out the village for days.
“Anyway, I still wonder who that dude in black was...”
“Can it. They’re on the move.”
“Huh?”
In the complete dark of night, the Bunnies were gathering at a particular spot in the village. Without exception, all of them held a bucket in their hand, which wasn’t something that was often carried around at night.
The Bunnies gathered at the well and cranked the pulley to fill one bucket after another with water. Although none of the Bunnies said a word, the bandits could almost feel their excitement in the air.
“Water, huh...?”
The bandit leader grunted, finally able to put a finger on the phenomenon that revitalized the village. They had either dug a new well or their well was no longer dry. Whatever the case, water was the source of the Bunnies’ newfound excitement.
“It’s not every day you find water in the ground in these parts. Dammit, Boss. We’re parched over here too.”
“Once they’re out of the way, we’ll go for a swig.”
Eventually, the Bunnies retreated into their homes, leaving no one around the well. The two bandits crept up to it without a sound, and silently turned the pulley.
“Woah-ho! It’s water, Boss! Water!”
“Hush! Keep it down.”
They tossed back the bucket to pour the water down their throats, and didn’t forget to fill up their leather canteens on their waist, either.
“Boss, this water’s ice cold! Like stupidly cold!”
“You’re stupidly loud!”
The Boss clocked his henchman on the head, who let out a stupid yelp. After quenching their thirst to their hearts’ content, the pair sighed out loud.
“I can’t remember when I last had water this cold.”
“Hm...”
“What’s wrong, Boss? You don’t look so cheery.”
“Huh... This well’s pretty beat up.”
A foreboding thought crossed the boss’s mind, but his minion only stared in confusion. As long as there was water coming out of it, who cared how nice or run-down the well was?
“Water comes out of it. Ain’t that enough, Boss?”
“They didn’t use this well for ages. It’s barely taken care of.”
“A-Alright...?”
The leader was preparing to explain that the well would soon collapse or otherwise become unusable, but seemed to consider it not worth his while. He only shook his head, and they left the village without a sound.
“Boss, that was lucky we stumbled across that.”
“Uh huh...”
At least they could get their hands on some water here for a while.
“Those Bunnies... It’s almost like they struck a gold mine...”
The boss added, and his minion turned back toward the village with envy in his eyes. For anyone in this country, water was literally a matter of life and death. Striking a water vein out in the eastern wasteland was much more valuable than a gold mine.
“Boss, we can come back here whenever we want to get more.”
“Ain’t too bad...”
They began to share a mischievous giggle until they burst out laughing. Just by drinking some water, their mood and sense of security had drastically increased. If they had approached the well under daylight, they would have realized the secret of the well. One could imagine the look of utter bewilderment on their faces.
“Heh. We’ll take a
dvantage of it until it dries up...”
The bandit leader grinned with content, but he hadn’t realized yet that this well, in particular, would produce an infinite supply of water.
Meeting with the Holy Maiden
In the Holy City, a large number of workers were pooled to work on restoring the city. While the worst-case scenario had been avoided, the damage to the city was significant. A good portion of the population was working out on the streets as lumber and stones were delivered to worksites. Numerous cauldrons lined the main street, and some artisans could be seen scarfing down their lunch.
“I saw it, all right! That was the silver Dragonborn everyone’s been talking about!”
“Nevermind that, I saw the Demon Lord! That dude was out of this world!”
“So who’s stronger between the two of them?”
“How the hell are we supposed to tell!?”
Naturally, the typical topics of conversation around the city were those two characters... although they were one and the same. This sort of conversation was taking place in every corner of the Holy City. Who could have blamed them? It would have been ridiculous for a Demon Lord and a Dragonborn not to start rumors. Some of the more rumor-savvy Northern Nations had already sent capable spies to Holylight in order to gather more information.
The man at the center of those rumors... was now sitting face-to-face with the final Holy Maiden in a meeting room in the depths of the Holy Castle. The oldest of the three Holy Maidens, White, had invited the man who called himself the Demon Lord for a visit, after thoroughly clearing the vicinity of the room and carefully taking measures to prevent eavesdropping.
The Holy Maiden and the Demon Lord were the only ones in the room. She now faced someone who had defeated 500 Satanists in an instant, as well as casually blow a medium-rank devil to smithereens. After learning the details of the attack the other day, White had realized the hard way that she wasn’t being careful enough. She was now confident that this Demon Lord was involved in the resurrection and disappearance of the King of Devils, too. What scared her the most, though, was the fact that the Demon Lord could walk right into the Holy Castle. Even the barriers laid out by the Wise Angel could not keep him out. White shuddered at this realization.
Demon Lord, Retry! Volume 2 Page 1