How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 7

by Yukiya Murasaki

  “Wh-Who do you mean...? Actually, I wanted to marry...”

  “Oh? You already have someone in mind?”

  Shera reached out her hand, grabbing the hem of Diablo’s cloak. Realizing what Shera meant, the queen spoke softly.

  “Greenwood is an Elven kingdom, darling. We need a king everyone would be satisfied with.”

  “But...”

  “We’ve been entrusted with guarding something very important ever since the time of myth. In exchange, we’ve been given the blessings of the forest. I’m sure I’ve told you many times what God told the Elves back then. But you always were a forgetful little thing, though I’m not sure who you take after in that regard... No matter what, the royal bloodline must never be allowed to die out. The husbands of those of royal blood become the new king. The king prays to God, then... Well, there are some other details, but that’s the most important part.”

  It was pretty obvious who Shera had gotten her forgetfulness from...

  Why did God ever entrust something “very important” to this family? It felt like a rather critical error in judgment.

  “I did remember that, but the rule doesn’t say anything about the king having to be an Elf!”

  “Why, the Elven king must be an Elf. It wouldn’t be an Elven kingdom otherwise, now would it?”

  The queen spoke so matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing to doubt, but there truly was nothing wrong about what she said. As sad as it was to admit, Shera was the one being high-handed here.

  “But, I...”

  Her voice was getting smaller by the moment. Stuck between reason and emotion, Diablo’s feeling were just as mixed on the matter.

  —This is getting complicated... There are too many things in this world even great magic can’t solve.

  Diablo sighed softly.

  †

  Just as the sky began turning orange—

  Diablo and Shera were sitting on a tree root.

  “Aaaaaaw, what should I do...” Shera looked to be at her wit’s end. “I can’t believe it has to be an Elf...”

  “Just what was this ‘perfect’ plan you ‘thought through’ when you made the promise to the Dark Elves?”

  “Well...” Shera’s shoulders dropped and her long ears sagged lower than usual. “The Kingdom of Greenwood definitely needs a new king, and that would be whomever I marry, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “So I figured...I’d pick you.”

  There were too many holes to point out in that idea!

  “No one would agree with a Demon being a king of the Elves. Even the queen was against it, wasn’t she?”

  “Uuu...”

  “To begin with, Demons are the most loathed of the races.”

  It was just something in the game’s setting, but, in this other world, Diablo could feel real, clear-cut discrimination.

  “Right...”

  “If you picked a Human, it may have been different.”

  “No, that’d be even worse... Humans are a majority, but they rule over the races and aren’t satisfied with just their own country. They want the other races’ territories too. Everyone hates them because they’re so greedy.”

  “What about the other races? What image do the Elves have of them?”

  “Hmm... I have lots of friends from other races so I don’t personally think this way, but it’s said Demons are too hateful, Humans are greedy, Dwarves are drunk gluttons, and Grasswalkers are lazy bums.”

  “And the Pantherians?”

  “Err...”

  Shera looked left and right, as if to confirm no one was listening in on them, and brought her lips to Diablo’s ear, whispering with her face flushed red.

  “...They say they’re pervs.”

  “O-Oh...”

  Other races probably thought Elves were arrogant. Diablo specifically thought back to Prince Keera. The Elves were said to be the closest race to the gods, and were given a special treasure to defend along with the blessed forest. While that may have been a fact, being too prideful could attract spite.

  Diablo shrugged. “If you know this much, why did you assume the Elves would accept someone from another race as a king?”

  “Uuu... I thought this was a good idea...”

  “A-Also, you could have at least consulted me first...”

  “But I always want to be with you!”

  “Huh...”

  Being told this directly left Diablo surprised. He could tell she depended on him as a companion, but he didn’t think she looked at him as someone of the opposite gender...much less considering him as someone worth marrying.

  Shera looked at him with such an earnest gaze that Diablo was impressed she could make such a face, and at the same time felt a blush creep over his cheeks.

  “You don’t want to be with me, Diablo?”

  “...I...”

  Of course he wanted to be with her, but he couldn’t wholeheartedly choose her as his one and only spouse. The things he understood the least were his own emotions, and he never had the leisure to focus on them. The real him was incapable of even holding a conversation with someone else, so romantic feelings, which involved exposing that aspect of himself, were simply too...

  “Hey, you!”

  The two heard a man shout, as well as the distinct clambering sound of metallic armor. Diablo’s awareness surfaced from the depths of contemplation as he realized Elves didn’t wear metal armor; even the Dark Elf warriors wore leather armor. This meant there was someone who wasn’t an Elf here...

  The armored warrior ran in their direction, issuing banging sounds with every step he made. Diablo stood up from the tree root, brandishing his dagger, 《Garuda Edge》.

  “Stop right there! State your name!”

  “Oh! It truly is you, my bosom friend!”

  “...Bosom friend?”

  The man raised a hand in a friendly fashion. “Indeed! And hello to you too, Shera! I’m sure not seeing me for so long has left you lonely and heartbroken!”

  “Err...” Shera tilted her head. “Do I know you?”

  “Ahahahaha!” the armored man laughed merrily. “I see you two cannot recognize me because of my exceedingly glamorous new armor!”

  He then removed the helmet with a ‘Well then!’ revealing a young man with willful, bushy eyebrows and bright orange hair giving them a shining, toothy grin.

  “I am Emile Bichelberger!” he exclaimed, striking a ridiculous pose. “Ally to all women! And an ally to all allies of women!”

  “Ah... Yes, give me a moment...” Diablo pressed a finger to his forehead, visibly pensive. “Come to think of it...wasn’t there someone like you in Faltra...?”

  Shera averted her gaze. “And just when I managed to forget about him too...”

  “Hahah, you must have gone through such eventful times to have forgotten about someone like me!” Emile was, despite the rather terrible reception he’d gotten, endlessly optimistic. “Enough to make days feel like months, I’d bet! As I’d expect of my sworn friend!”

  “You haven’t changed at all.”

  Emile had a mentality of steel: unbending, unbreaking, and unyielding. But even a man such as he heaved a despondent sigh.

  “Haven’t changed, have I... That is certainly not the case! I’ll have you know, I’ve come face to face with my own limitations. When I was beaten down by the Fallen, Gregore, and beheld your great magic, I realized I couldn’t let things stay that way.”

  “And that’s what brought you to Greenwood?”

  “My master told me, ‘Go forth and broaden your horizons’! I’ve become apprentice to the Swordmaster Graham, who lives up in the northern mountains, you see.”

  “What!?” Diablo exclaimed. “Graham exists in this world!?”

  “Hmm? What do you mean...by that?”

  “Ahh, never mind...”

  Cross Reverie had level limits, and players had to clear a certain event to level up beyond them. Among these, the hardest quest to complete was
the one for going beyond level 99, which was considered the limit of the races. Each player would meet a teacher representative of their class, travel through the different nations for each race, and complete a particular quest that would unlock leveling up beyond the level limit. Once you passed level 99 it was an entirely different world.

  Graham, the Swordmaster, was the Warrior class’s teacher.

  “But I thought you had to be level 80 or above to even meet them?”

  “Really? Then I suppose that means I’m level 80 right now!”

  “That’s a pretty vague assessment...”

  “It’s completely fine! I’m the one who discerns the levels of Warrior-type Adventurers after all. If I say I’m level 80, then that means I’m definitely level 80!”

  In this world, levels were a criterion for what quests one could accept, and were generally decided by those of higher ranking. Emile’s way of talking may have drawn him up as a bumbling idiot, but he was, as a matter of fact, the strongest Warrior-type Adventurer in Faltra.

  Even still, a low-ranking Fallen had made short work of him. Faltra’s Adventurers were so low level it left Diablo honestly shocked. But maybe that had changed now?

  “Heheheh... Let us test you then.”

  “Huh?”

  Diablo brandished his dagger toward Emile’s chest, the center of Emile’s armor. However, he felt as if an invisible wall blocked his way, deflecting the dagger to the side. Just as the tip of the blade was about to touch Emile, it was pushed back as if it had struck against solid rock.

  “Ah! That’s the Martial Art 《Rampart》!”

  “Hmph... I won’t lose as easily as last time!”

  The first time they met, Emile’s fighting style was full of openings, and Diablo had beaten him down with nothing but his staff. But now, normal attacks wouldn’t be able to phase him anymore. He truly had grown.

  “Impressive, given how short a time it’s been.”

  “It wasn’t for lack of trouble. At first, I challenged Lord Galford, Faltra’s governor, to battle!”

  “You did what!?”

  Galford was a hero of the old war, and strong enough to fight Diablo to a stalemate. Was he perhaps the strongest Warrior-type fighter among the races...? No, Alan of the 《Order of Palace Knights》 and the order’s captain may cast that into doubt... But either way, it didn’t make much of a difference now.

  Galford was that much of a daunting opponent. He could kill Gregore in a flash, and his nature was of a cold, calculated warrior. Diablo couldn’t imagine Emile walking away from a battle with him with Emile’s head still intact.

  “I can’t say your lies impress me.”

  “Trust in me, my bosom friend! I realize how vast his strength is. But even when he knocked me down, my comrades would heal me, and after many challenges I realized the trick to it all!”

  “Oh...”

  “Some among my friends pleaded with me to cease such a dangerous pursuit, but once I began challenging him on a daily basis, some even joined me for practice... Ah, camaraderie is truly the best!”

  Dumb as he may seem, Emile was quite popular.

  “And that’s how I matured!” Emile concluded, holding a finger upright.

  Shera was surprised. “That’s amazing! Did you beat him at all!?”

  “I did no such thing! The only one to match Lord Galford is none other than my bosom friend!”

  “Oh, then, did you at least land an attack on him once?”

  “Close! I managed to block a single one of his attacks!”

  “Wow.”

  “No, no, no, that’s plenty impressive, my fair Shera! Lord Galford’s swipes are so fast I couldn’t even see them at first!”

  Diablo considered his words.

  —Galford is prejudiced against Adventurers, so he must have accepted Emile’s challenges because the Demon Lord’s army is on the move.

  It stood as evidence to how anxious Galford probably was in his desire to increase the races’ strength.

  Emile smirked. “Once he saw how much I matured, Lord Galford introduced me to Swordmaster Graham and sent me to train with them... And now I’ve gone out on a journey to hone my skills!”

  “Are you sure he didn’t just pawn you off so you’d bother someone else?”

  “Ahahaha! That’s highly unlikely! Everyone is expecting great things out of me!”

  His mental fortitude was as indomitable as ever. Diablo wished Emile could share some of that baseless confidence.

  As they were talking, several Elven boys, holding small bows, ran up to them.

  “Emile, we’re ready... Ah, Princess Shera!”

  Having noticed her, the boys bowed in a hurry, though their expressions became frightened when they looked at Diablo.

  Shera raised a hand amicably. “Hello there, it’s been a while! Are you going somewhere with Emile?”

  “Yes! We’re off to show him the way as he hunts magical beasts!”

  “Magical beasts!? This late at night!?”

  “They don’t come out of their nests unless it’s nighttime,” one of the boys explained.

  “I see... Be sure to watch yourselves, OK?”

  “Thank you very much! And, uhm...welcome back, Princess Shera!”

  “Thanks!”

  Diablo could tell how much they adored Shera.

  “Well then!” Emile put his helmet back on. “We’re off for a spot of hunting! Fare thee well, Shera and my sworn friend!”

  “Good luck out there~” Shera saw them off with a wave of the hand.

  They could hear the boys saying, “Wow, Emile, you’re friends with the princess!”

  Hunting for magical beasts was part of the level limit quest, and they were small magical beasts too, so with his current skills, Emile should have no problems beating them.

  “...He may become a reliable vanguard one day.” Diablo gave a thin smile.

  †

  The moon floated up in the sky. Night had fallen, and Rem’s group was finally brought into the village. Rem walked with her shoulders dropped, visibly exhausted. Rose was as expressionless as ever, but her maid outfit was even more torn than earlier. Rafflesia stood composed as the Elves surrounded her, their bows drawn. Shera ran between them in a flustered manner, throwing her hands in front of Rafflesia, as if to protect her from the Elves.

  “What are you doing!?”

  “Sh-She’s dangerous, Princess Shera! She’s a Dark Elf!”

  “She’s an Elf, just like us! She’s a friend!”

  “A friend!?” The soldiers began muttering in confusion.

  “What’s this about one of Shera’s companions being a Dark Elf?” Having heard the commotion, the queen herself came out.

  “A good day to you.” Rafflesia bowed politely. “It has been long since we’ve last met.”

  “Y-You...!? You’re Rafflesia S. Orangewood... Why are you here!?”

  There was a shiver in the queen’s voice. Diablo assumed as much, but it still wasn’t a very positive reaction. Rafflesia also seemed prepared for this, and wasn’t phased in the slightest.

  “Haha... Haven’t you heard? Your daughter made an oath on her life—and I’ve come to see it delivered.”

  Of course she would be this composed; she had an ace up her sleeve she could brandish at any moment.

  “Shera, we must speak.” The queen’s expression clouded over.

  “Y-Yeah...”

  The queen then ordered the soldiers, “Lady Rafflesia is our guest. Treat her with due respect. Reckless behavior will not be forgiven.”

  True to her long-running status as queen, her words carried a menacing weight to them. The soldiers stood upright as the queen left with Shera.

  Diablo wanted to accompany them, but her attitude afforded him no opportunity to even say anything. He was concerned, but he had no intention of making a ruckus of things, so he restrained himself.

  The Elves also realized Diablo’s strength, and wouldn’t do anything to force Shera to obe
y them.

  Shortly after—

  Diablo and his group were lent a building to lodge in. It wasn’t on a tree, but an estate made out of normal bricks on the ground. It was apparently a guest house made for when non-Elf races came to visit, and was built in the style of the homes of the Kingdom of Lyferia. Since it was built in the forest though, it didn’t have any candlesticks that would be lit with fire. In their place, a chandelier made of shining gemstones dangled from the ceiling.

  The room was roughly the size of the common inn, and there were two bedrooms, one probably for a master and the other for their valet.

  Diablo was seated on the common room’s sofa.

  “Hmph... It’s smaller than I would expect of a country’s diplomatic guest house.”

  Though it was much larger than his room in his world.

  “...Guests must be a fairly rare occurrence in this country,” Rem said, having sat down on the sofa opposite of him and fallen to the side, lying on it horizontally. She sighed heavily.

  She was an experienced Adventurer, and a Pantherian at that, so she had much more stamina compared to the common person. It was rare seeing her this worn out.

  “You got really lost in that forest, didn’t you?”

  “Forgive Rose, Master.” Rose bowed her head deeply at Diablo’s remark. “Rose was not there to aid Master when Master needed Rose most... Rose is a pile of mechanical waste. Dispose of Rose however Master sees fit.”

  “I wasn’t voicing my displeasure, maid. I was merely asking what happened.”

  With Rem looking about ready to fall asleep on the sofa at any moment, and Rose apologizing earnestly, Rafflesia spoke up.

  “We intended to go after you, Sir Diablo, when giant rocks rained down from the sky.”

  “That was the work of my magic.”

  They probably meant the Heaven’s Fall spell he’d used to get rid of the Herbductor.

  “...So we hurried there, thinking that’s where you were bound to be,” Rem grumbled from the sofa, still lying down. “But then we found the forest was completely wrecked.”

  “Hmm.”

  Diablo replied with the composed tone of a Demon Lord receiving a report from his underlings...but inwardly, he realized and was tormented by how much he screwed up. After he saved Shera, he immediately moved from his spot to make sense of where he was and find Rem and the others. But if he thought it out more carefully, he’d have realized casting such a large spell would lead Rem to him if he just waited long enough!