INTRODUCTION
The western sun had sunk below the edge of the horizon, its light even now overrun by the faint purple of early evening.
Out in the prairieland a distance away from what was once a well-kept road, a diminutive shadow moved through the waist-high grass.
“Geez… I’d be there in a snap if I could fly.”
The hazy shape griping to itself within the grass was a woman.
“Fly, and they’d find me. Walk, and they’d find me. Life can be a pain like that sometimes, huh?”
She proceeded warily, feeling out the way ahead while keeping her profile as low as possible.
Soon, she spied a wide wall made of roughly cut wooden planks, extending seemingly forever in either direction.
“My, someone’s been working fast. It’s only been just a little over a year, no?”
The woman arrived at a piece of that wall and spied crosses, made of five distinct parts fitted together, nailed to it haphazardly.
That was the emblem of the Federated Order of the Five Continents, modeled after a bird’s-eye view of the world in which she lived: a large, central continent paired with a set of four satellite islands, each extending in a cardinal direction.
At one point, the Federated Order boasted the combined power of the entire human race, led by the Hero Emilia as she attempted to resist the Devil King and his force of marauding demons.
Now, though, the Order had been reinvented as an organization aiding the Central Continent’s provisionary government, as it struggled to rebuild in the wake of the demon hordes that had laid waste to the land.
The wall that spread before her, festooned with the crosses that served as the Order’s symbol, was built to prevent entry to a certain location.
Even now, as the darkness gathered and descended upon the sky, the arcane presence of that “location” spread its black miasma to every corner of the island, despite remaining out of sight behind the wall.
Devil’s Castle.
It was the domain and primary stronghold of Satan, the Devil King, ruler of the demonic forces that had once stormed across Ente Isla. The stories held that only three people had ever set eyes upon the castle and lived to tell the tale: Emeralda Etuva, Albert Ende, and Olba Meiyer—the three companions the Hero had taken on her quest.
After Emilia and Satan met their apparent demise battling each other, the Federated Order engaged in a large-scale mop-up operation to eradicate the remaining demonic armies from the Central Continent.
With both Satan and his lone surviving general, Alciel, defeated, the forces that once plunged mankind into untold misery were suddenly nothing more than a ragtag, rudderless rabble. It took a little over a year for the Order to eradicate the majority of them.
But there were still enough survivors in the Central Continent that small raids and other incidents were common occurrences.
The Federated Order of the Five Continents had decided that their final mission was the complete dismantling of Devil’s Castle.
The Castle had been constructed on the site of Isla Centurum, once the land’s largest trade hub. It had been a gleaming city that served as the central core of human civilization.
It appeared in a single night atop the shattered, conquered metropolis, and yet it projected a vast, majestic presence, far grander than the holy sanctuary of Sankt Ignoreido on the Western Continent or the ancient castle of Sohtengai that silently watched over the capital of the Eastern Continent.
Its inner construction was as vast as it was convoluted. Tongues wagged continent-wide about what could be found inside—the mountains of bones in the dungeons below, of the poor Centurumni offered as demonic sacrifice; the tainted souls that wandered the grounds nightly; the surviving demons that continued to inhabit its dark corridors…
Having such a frightening, eerie castle remain standing in the middle of the world was both a thought too ominous to consider and a serious blow to morale during the continent’s recovery efforts. A sizable platoon of knights had broken into the castle relatively early on, keen to proceed with the demolition job as soon as possible.
But thanks to the continual rash of bizarre disasters and disfiguring plagues that befell these forces—not to mention the dogged resistance from the besieged demons that remained inside—the project faced interminable delays. The power vacuum that prevailed in the Central Continent post–Devil King also led to debate among Ente Isla’s four islands over who should take the lead in reconstruction. Ultimately, the Order built the aforementioned wall around the castle to prevent entry, stationing knights around the perimeter and delaying demolition indefinitely until a political solution could be reached.
“Guess it’s a blessing in disguise, though. If they just up and tore it down, I would’ve been screwed right about now.”
The woman stood before the wall.
Double-checking to ensure no sentries were nearby, she leaped up. Without a moment’s hesitation, she cleared the three-story wall in a single bound.
Her body glowed faintly as it arced through the air, providing much-needed light to the murky darkness.
Beyond the wall, she was greeted with an unbroken landscape of half-razed grasslands and half-scorched forests, making the hardscrabble path she took this far seem like a dutifully maintained high road. It was a world frozen in death, one without a single nocturnal bird or insect stirring.
She ran as quickly as she could through this surreal landscape, toward the center of the world.
Before long, a large, dark shadow grew visible in the air beyond.
A vast spire towered higher than any other castle in the world, as if daring to reach the heavens themselves, a spear at the forefront of the lair of demonic darkness that overshadowed the night ahead. But the woman seemed almost bored as she looked upward.
“Boy, talk about ‘seen it all before.’ Not a single bit of originality to it.”
Soon, she was at the eastern gate of Devil’s Castle, facing an entryway large enough for a frost giant to step through without hitting his head. She glanced at the enormous gate’s carvings, depicting large, eaglelike birds in a frozen state of blind rage, before briskly striding into the castle.
From the vast, abandoned corridor, pathways branched out like an ant’s nest, linking to every nook and cranny of the castle. Without a moment’s hesitation, she chose a single path and plunged forward.
The purple stone embedded into the ring on her left hand shone.
Once, the Hero Emilia and her companions followed the guidance of her holy sword to reach their ultimate destination, the topmost floor where their nemesis dwelled: the Devil King’s throne room.
She wound through a long succession of corridors and terraces, so twisted that a typical explorer would lose all sense of up and down, left and right, along the way.
Soon, a full moon hung high in the air, illuminating Devil’s Castle and the woman running through it.
There was no telling how much time had passed by the time she reached the masterless throne room.
It was decorated surprisingly sparsely, the scars from the Hero’s battle still fresh against the walls and floor. She headed straight for the throne that used to strike fear into the hearts of thousands.
Behind it, a curtain hung silently.
“Ah…”
Behind that was a room.
It was just what she expected.
There was an enormous chest, likely meant for wardrobe purposes, its grotesque carvings worthy for the eye of the Devil King of another era. A tall bookshelf, one far too high for a person of normal height to fully access, stood against a wall. A single quill from some great, overgrown bird stuck out above a towering pa
rtner’s desk that stood higher than the woman herself.
“There’s nothing…here…”
There was not a single volume on the shelves. The chest, its lid wide open, eagerly collected dust, and no ink was available for the Devil King’s favored quill pen.
But this was not the work of raiders or souvenir seekers. There was never anything here in the first place.
“…I wonder where you went wrong.”
She whispered it somberly to herself, then walked across the empty room, opening a large courtyard window to let the moonlight inside.
A terrace lay beyond the paneless window frame, facing southward.
“Found you!”
The terrace housed something resembling a home garden, albeit much larger. Several potted trees were lined in careful rows, dignified in the moonlight.
Branches from two of them had grown entangled over time, creating a single, odd-looking growth.
“Wish they could’ve been a little more careful, though. This stands out far too much.”
The woman smiled wistfully and brought her left hand up, facing the strange, tangled tree.
The purple gem on her ring glowed as it absorbed the moonlight. Then, the tree began emitting a dim light.
Soon, a glowing ball emerged between her hand and the tree. The ring’s light fizzled, and the tree, so vividly alive and basked in light a moment ago, crumbled apart like a pile of ash.
“You raised her well. Very good.”
She smiled at the floating ball of light, paying the ruined tree no further mind. Suddenly, her sharp gaze turned toward the eastern sky.
“!!”
In the moonlit air, five twinkling points of light floated above, arranged in a neat row.
“Noticed already, huh? That was fast. You must be getting desperate. I should’ve guessed.”
Embracing the ball of light, she quickly returned to the room.
“Oh, well. If worse comes to worst, I’ve got a general idea of where he is. It’s his job to raise it. It’s time he kept his side of the bargain.”
The ball pulsated warmly, as if responding to her words.
“So the chase begins anew, does it? Hopefully you’ve been polishing your skills a little over the past few centuries, Gabriel.”
There was a twinge of excitement in her voice as she disappeared into the Devil’s Castle darkness.
The second moon that governed the skies of Ente Isla had only just appeared in the eastern sky, behind the five twinkles looming over the terrace.
By the time the five meteors reached the castle, the moons—one blue, one red—were lined up together.
And by then, the faint light that enveloped the woman as she crept through the castle was a distant memory.
THE DEVIL AND THE HERO UNEXPECTEDLY BECOME PARENTS
Well-polished gears groaned to life in a room that smelled of machine oil and metal.
The power was enough to spring the connected drive-train system to full initial power, its state-of-the-art gear control allowing for flexible drive operation.
Its performance was aided by the buffed, sparkling framework that formed the body. It was lightweight, but remarkably sturdy.
It was also outfitted with a full line of safety features. The front safety flashers were automatically activated by optical sensors, and an audio warning device allowed the operator to immediately inform others of the vehicle’s position. The reflector plates facing all sides were also standard equipment, providing vital support for unexpected enemy ambushes.
Yet despite all of this hands-on functionality, the vehicle lost nothing in terms of transport capacity and driver comfort.
The seat was upholstered in leather. In addition to the large-capacity container on the front, several optional freight-storage units were bolted on to the sides, ready for use.
“Whaddaya think? That’s everything on your list, right there.”
A man in a greasy workman’s jumpsuit pointed at the vehicle, his voice full of confidence.
“…Lemme try it out before I say anything.”
Another man, younger, shook his head, his face stern. The machine oil mechanic fired back.
“Yeah, I thought you’d say that. It’s fully machined and ready to go—I did all the fine-tuning myself. It’ll put up with whatever you put it through for at least the next hundred years, yeah?”
He crossed his arms, as if challenging his partner to defy him.
“I’ll be holding you to that.” The young man grinned as he climbed onto the pilot’s seat. “Whoa… Dang.”
The workman flashed a grin of his own as the young man voiced his approval.
Toward the side, someone muttered to herself sullenly:
“…How longer must we perpetuate this charade?”
The young man paid the commentary no mind as he brought both hands to the steering wheel and stomped down on one of the two pedals.
As he did, he let out a whoop of pleasure.
“Whooaaahh! Wow! It’s so light! I can’t believe how light it is with this gearshift!”
The young man, pumping the gearshift to and fro as he navigated out of the maintenance garage, gleefully shouted to no one in particular.
“This is awesome!”
“Thank ya much, Maou! And I’ll cut you a deal, too. How does 29,800 yen sound?”
“Sweet, Mr. Hirose! She’s got the money for you. You got it ready, Suzuno?”
The young man called Maou tilted his head toward the woman sitting on a folding chair near the wall of the garage, her puffed-cheek insolence ill-befitting her traditional Japanese kimono.
The oil-stained man raised his eyebrows as he turned toward her.
The girl Maou called Suzuno took a crepe-fabric purse out from the goldfish print tote bag in her hand, a look of utter chagrin on her face.
“Mr. Shopkeeper, was there any manner of meaning behind your conversation just now?”
Hirose, owner of the Hirose Cycle Shop in a shopping arcade on Bosatsu Street—just five minutes’ walk from the Keio Sasazuka station in Tokyo’s Shibuya ward—removed the towel wrapped around his head and laughed heartily as he wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Hey, it’s just part of the package, ya know? Part of the package. You really gonna pay the tab this time, though? Ya seeing Maou right now or something?”
The girl’s facial muscles visibly tensed at the question.
“I would like you to refrain from such jests. Circumstances beyond my control are forcing me to pay this bill. Sadao, would you stop cavorting like a child? Return here at once so we can complete whatever antitheft paperwork we need.”
“All right, all right.”
Sadao Maou returned to the garage, grinning from ear to ear, riding his mint-condition, gleaming, high-end urban bicycle.
It was a Stonebridge citybike with six gears, perfectly attuned to Maou’s needs. Reflector panels had been installed in all directions over its aluminum frame, and the front light was programmed to flash automatically in the dark.
“Twenty-nine thousand, eight hundred yen for the bicycle, three hundred yen for the antitheft registration… Ah, you don’t have to worry about the last hundred. Thirty thousand works for me.”
“I appreciate the gesture.”
Suzuno unfurled three neatly folded ten-thousand-yen bills and presented them to Hirose.
“Thank you much! Say, while you’re here, are you in the market for a bike at all, ma’am?”
Suzuno shook her head at the suggestion.
“I will pass for now, thank you. I have yet to undergo the relevant drilling.”
“The rele-what?”
She continued in a wholly deadpan manner to the confused Hirose.
“I understand that although no licensing procedure is required, one must undergo a process of education that involves the use of a support device known as ‘training wheels.’”
Maou pictured the compact, kimono-wearing Suzuno pumping away at a child-sized bike with trainin
g wheels attached. Perhaps some pony decals and handlebar streamers would be involved. He had to resist busting out in laughter. “That could be pretty cute, actually, huh?”
Suzuno glared a bit at Maou. “Honestly… Mr. Shopkeeper, I would have the receipt, please.”
“Oh? Uh, sure. I’m gonna have to handwrite one, if that works for ya. Hang on while I find my receipt pad.”
“If you could make it out to ‘Sankt Ignoreido Co., Ltd.,’ I would appreciate it.”
Maou was the only one of them who expressed clear surprise.
“Whoa, is that…?”
But Hirose paid it no special mind as he filled out the receipt and ripped it off of the pad.
“And there you go. Thanks again! Take good care of that thing for me, Maou. It’s a gift, I guess, yeah?”
“Um, yeah…”
Waving at Hirose as they put the bicycle shop behind them, Maou and Suzuno walked side by side as they headed toward the apartment building they each called home.
Maou almost skipped as he giddily walked along, shiny new ride in hand. In Suzuno’s was a summer parasol, protecting her face against the pounding summer heat.
“Hey, like, what’re you even gonna do with that receipt, anyway?”
“If I retain a full account of my monetary resources here, I may be able to receive the equivalent amount back in the future, once I am finished with slaying you.”
“Oh, you’re gonna report to the Church that the Devil King you were sent to kill bummed a bike off you instead?”
Suzuno glared from underneath her parasol.
“I would be happy to spread the word far and wide across the Church that the Devil King is a vile, conniving demon, one not even beneath begging a Church official for a bicycle.”
“Hey, you know how politicians and stuff like to pretend they’re all ‘of the people’ and like that, right? I don’t see what’s so wrong about me doing that. Gotta prove that I got my finger on the pulse of the common man, you know? Plus, for me, it’s not even some fake act I’m putting on.”
As the Devil King of the People bragged about his environmentally conscious (if dirt-poor and, indeed, conniving) lifestyle, he turned around to peer into a shop he almost walked right by.
The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 3 Page 1