by Fuse
“And what does this piece of evidence prove?” Diablo asked.
Edward laughed back, clearly considering it a foolish question. “Don’t you see? Lady Glenda over there brought this to us. You infiltrated Lubelius and killed Sir Reyhiem, did you not? Perhaps you thought mere threats would cow him into doing your bidding, but his faith outclassed your terror! So you feared him telling the world about your crimes, and it led you to do this!”
He looked down at Diablo, all but daring him to respond. Diablo’s smile remained intact.
“How impressive. A mere human being able to overcome his fear of me? That’s a rather funny joke.”
“Don’t dodge the question! You’ve seen the evidence against you; you cannot merely talk your way out of it—”
“Enough. Silence.”
Diablo’s quiet voice cut off the new king as he was trying to show his full dignity to the press. For a single moment, his smile disappeared. Replacing it was a hideous, barren, unfathomable terror.
“This charade is over. I cannot enjoy a battle of wits if you neglect to bring any with you to the contest.”
The words were enough to freeze Edward where he stood.
“I had thought about explaining the truth in detail to prove my innocence, but I see that would be a waste of time. Humans are wired, after all, to believe only what they want to believe. But there is an easier way to prove my case…”
“Wh-what are you saying…?”
The change in Diablo’s attitude intimidated Edward. Only now did he realize that this approach of his might not have been the most intelligent idea.
“You would like me to prove my innocence,” Diablo continued, “wouldn’t you? If anybody here is able to overcome their fear of me, I will gladly admit defeat. But let me caution you: I have never been defeated before. If you seek to defy me, then be prepared to face the consequences.”
His voice was just as calm as always. But within those golden eyes of his, a pair of crimson pupils burned with rage. If this were only for himself, Diablo could’ve still held himself in check, but Edward had decided to cruelly slander Rimuru as well. And at that moment, Edward’s luck ran out.
“K-kill him!” the fear-stricken Edward shouted. “Engage this demon menace at once!”
The demon hunters mixed in with the soldiers guarding the king were waiting for this order. They all simultaneously leaped out and attacked Diablo.
“Overcome our fear of you? Too easy! You might think yourself invincible as an Arch Demon, but we stumble across demons like you in our homeland all the time!”
“No demon can survive for long if you pulverize their physical form! That applies just as much to an Arch Demon!”
“We’ve done our homework on how to handle demons like you. Don’t count us humans out!”
The hunters worked in tandem as they shouted at him, going into a lethal formation. They had a laser focus on Diablo, despite what their bold insults would imply. Diablo, after all, had a name, and a named Arch Demon was a level above the norm threat-wise.
“What? No response, then?”
“All bark and no bite, eh?”
Swinging Special compound-alloy chains imbued with the holy element, they pinned Diablo down, binding his arms and legs. Their very first move had succeeded, and it made them let up on their caution just a bit.
The Eastern Empire, for better or for worse, had more experience with marauding demons than the Western Nations. This was supposedly because of a demon stronghold in the East that held sway over a gigantic amount of power, but either way, it also meant that demon hunters really were well-trained fighters in the art of anti-demon tactics. An Arch Demon was strictly the stuff of legend in the West, but eastward, they had conducted extensive research on demons, dividing them into categories and coming up with strategies for each type.
The leader of the demon hunters had pegged Diablo as a medieval-age demon, but considering his named status, it seemed sounder to treat him as an “ancient” one instead. A member of the demon nobility, gifted with massive power, intelligence, and perhaps even a vast army of kin. The threat could not be underestimated.
But the leader still believed in their chances at victory. He had experienced several Arch Demon fights himself, and he never doubted the decision-making skills he learned from those battles.
“Are you ready, then?”
That was why Diablo’s question seemed so befuddling to him.
“Wh-what?”
“I mean, if you have made your preparations, I would appreciate a starting signal.”
The leader failed to understand what the serene demon meant. “…Huh?” He hid his concern, trying to sound as defiant as possible. “Are you saying you won’t get in our way, no matter what we do?”
“Why would I? With all the effort you are clearly putting in, I don’t want to interfere, you see. This will just make the fear that much more vivid.”
“Heh…heh-heh… Don’t toy with us, demon. Your arrogance will be your end!”
Diablo’s joking around sent a slight chill across the demon hunters’ minds. Demons like him often looked down on people, overestimating their own skills. With that knowledge in mind, Diablo wasn’t venturing far from the typical demon script. This time, though, he was delivering these lines while already chained to the ground. Even a seasoned demon hunter would be put off by this much confidence.
Still, these were professionals. They didn’t delay a single beat, executing on the training routines they repeated day after day.
“…You shall regret your arrogance in hell! Vanquish him now! Thunderbolt!!”
As King Edward, journalists from nations worldwide, and Saare and the rest of the Lubelian royal guard looked on, Diablo was roasted by blinding flashes of electricity.
“How about that! What does natural, non-magicule-infused lightning taste like to you?!”
“A demon like you is protected by layers of barriers, we know. But too bad for you! With our Imperial technology, we can break right through your defenses!”
“Demons must be granted physical form to impose their will upon this world. With your body destroyed, there is nothing you can do!”
The demon hunters seemed to treat their victory as a given. Any magicule-driven force could be easily blocked by a barrier built for the purpose. In response, the Eastern Empire had researched weapons that didn’t rely on magic to work. This lightning trick was one of them, the latest in anti-demon tech, and hearing that made Edward’s terror ease a bit.
“Wonderful!” he shouted, relieved. “Truly, you are the heroes of the East! I must raise my reward for that merchant!”
His face was twisted in glee as he looked at Diablo. The lightning was roasting the demon alive… Or was it? The flashes of light had fully enveloped his body by now, but that smile was still on Diablo’s lips.
Only Saare and Glenda picked up on this at first. It worried them. The demon hunters’ leader, however, was puzzling over something else.
…This shouldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening! Why isn’t there a single burn mark on his clothing?!
Then he saw it. That evil, evil smile.
“Y-you…!!”
“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. A rather meager effort. Too meager, in fact. You thought this would suffice against me? After all that hard work, I can’t help but call it a disappointment.”
Diablo casually brought an arm up. The moment he did, the chains binding him shattered.
“Whoa!”
“Nngh!!”
With unbelievable force, Diablo ripped the reinforced-alloy chains off his body.
“Y-you monster!!”
He laughed at the words of shock from the leader’s mouth. “Right, then,” Diablo said, as if nothing had just happened. “Now for the selection test.”
“W-wait! This is insanity! Why didn’t the lightning work on you?!”
Out of disbelief, or perhaps to divert his impending terror, the leader had to ask the question. Dia
blo was kind enough to provide a detailed reply.
“Why, you ask? It’s simple. I am equipped with a strong resistance to natural influences, electrical discharge included. Your attack just now was such a meager strike at me, it didn’t even merit building a defensive barrier to counter it. Is that satisfactory?”
The leader began to visibly shake. If anything, that was brave of him. The rest of the hunters, realizing the portent behind Diablo’s statement, had already fallen screaming to the ground.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!! Get away! Stop! Get away from me!!”
“Nnoooooooooo! H-help me!!”
These were first-class demon hunters, fearless, battle-trained warriors. And they weren’t alone. Except for the protected journalists, everybody witnessing this scene felt their spines freeze solid. Edward fainted right where he stood, foaming at the mouth, and so did his royal guard.
What just happened? The leader could see it well enough—this overwhelming terror, the sheer pressure this demon was sending their way. To put it as simply as possible, all Diablo did was unleash the full brunt of his aura—but that aura was daunting enough in itself to kill.
“Oh? So only three of you passed the test? Well, I suppose you do deserve praise for withstanding my Lord’s Ambition. You hereby have my permission to engage me.”
Hearing this, even as he felt the terror closing around his throat, the leader turned around. There, just as Diablo promised, were the two others left standing—Saare and Glenda, the young man and the wild beauty.
The sight of them seemingly unfazed helped the leader rally his exhausted mind. It’s all right. It’s still all right. The Battlesages didn’t let us down—truly the heroes of the West. My hunters may be done for, but with these two on hand, victory could yet be ours…
Encouraged, the leader turned back toward Diablo. “Heh… Heh-heh. Yes, you are every bit your demon lord’s servant. You’re just as good at bluffing as he no doubt is.”
“Bluffing, you say?”
“I do! You called that Lord’s Ambition just now, didn’t you? It takes a demon lord–class monster to wield that skill—and if Arch Demon is the highest level of the demon races, it is impossible for you to become a demon lord! That proves you are a liar!”
In the East, this fact was considered highly classified research. Demons, he knew, had an upper limit to the amount of magicules their bodies could store. This was a set number across all of them, even though they could differ in other forms of strength. Older demons would have more experience in battle, allowing them to form better strategies for conserving their magic and squeezing everything they could from it. This was also one reason not to fear demons as much as people often did, for if you knew your enemy’s magic limit, you could work with that, no matter how they tried to spin it. Knowledge is power, and having the right knowledge can keep an obvious bluff from clouding your mind.
“I see. That is both correct and incorrect. It is true that demons like myself are limited in our magicule count. However, it is possible to evolve to the next level, assuming the right conditions are met.”
“Huh?”
“I think the Red would be an example famous enough for you to be aware of?”
“The Red? What do you…?”
And then a certain demon flashed across the leader’s mind. One so famous, his entire existence was the exception that proved the rule.
“It would be simple enough to obtain the title of demon lord, you see. All it takes is for one of us to build our strength up to the maximum level, then live for at least two thousand years. One hardly needs to even work for it.”
Diablo made it sound easy, but in reality, it was fiendishly difficult. As a spiritual life-form, demons naturally enjoyed combat. Even if they were never summoned to the physical realm, battle was a constant part of life in the spiritual one. Losing a fight over there would dock magicules off your upper limit, which meant that some demons actually devolved over time. Reaching one’s maximum, then maintaining it for two millennia, basically meant evolving into an Arch Demon and building an unbeaten record that entire time—not even a single loss.
The demon hunters’ leader wasn’t aware of that per se, but even he had a hunch that Diablo was heavily downplaying the stakes involved. But the offhand reference to the Red was what attracted his attention—Diablo was speaking of that absolute ruler, the famous demon, as if they were casual buddies.
It couldn’t be. Out of all the things, it couldn’t be that…
Demon society worked in a strictly hierarchical relationship, according to a theory first advanced by Lord Gadora, the great sorcerer from the Eastern Empire. This hierarchy was punishingly strict in nature, applied equally both to the Primal Demons and the higher-level members of each demon type. A lower-level one referring to a higher-level one without some term of respect was as unthinkable as the end of the world.
“But perhaps the White would be more famous in the East, where you grew up? I observed her using Lord’s Ambition over there just the other day…”
The remark cleared the haze from the leader’s mind. He recalled the events of several years ago, just before Blanc, the fearsome Original White, took form in this world. They called the event the Bloody Shore, and if it had turned out the wrong way, it would’ve marked the birth of a second Guy Crimson, disrupting the balance of demon lords and dooming the planet to chaos. The Empire used its clout to bury the events of that day, ensuring the public didn’t know about them.
The leader turned pale. Now he knew. The demon that casually called them Red and White had to be at least as powerful as the one that caused the Bloody Shore.
That, that, that just can’t be…possible…! There… There’s just no way for us to win! It’s ridiculous. How could any of this happen?!
The leader screamed internally…and then, all too easily, something snapped. Demon hunters were professionals, not thrill seekers. They didn’t risk their necks over a job unless the money was right. If it involved protecting their own family, that was one thing, but nobody wanted to die in a faraway foreign country like this. And now that the leader understood how desperately outclassed he was, he abandoned all resistance as futile.
“Please, save me!” He let go of all shame and honor, pleading with Diablo. “At least spare my life… Help me, please…!”
Diablo rewarded the display with a gentle smile. “Oh, what’s wrong? You passed the test for me. Why don’t we have some fun? Don’t you want to find out whether I’m bluffing or not? You should see it for yourself.”
The leader was desperate. There was no more doubting Diablo. He realized fully now that this was a supreme danger to himself and the rest of the world. Bluffing? Don’t be ridiculous.
“P-please, forgive me! I only came here for the money. I swear I will never defy you again! I’ll never do anything to interfere with you. If you order me to slit the king’s throat while he’s still unconscious, I’ll do it for you right now! Please! Anything for my life!”
The pleading was taking on a pathetic tone. It turned out to be worth it.
“Hmm. In that case, you may leave. Go into the barrier the journalists are in, and take all the other people strewn around here with you.”
The leader immediately obeyed. Without hesitation, he shook his fellow hunters awake, ordering them to fetch the fallen knights for him. The king, he personally hefted over his shoulder before fleeing into the barrier. None of the journalists chided him for it. They were too busy watching over this bizarre turn of events, holding their breath in anticipation.
The area in front of the tent was much cleaner now, as Saare flashed a defiant smile at Diablo.
“Hmm… Impressive. I find it hard to believe you’re merely a calamity-level Arch Demon.”
“Oh? You weren’t fleeing me?”
“Fleeing? Such an amusing remark. My name is Saare. I directly serve the Holy Emperor of Lubelius as part of his Imperial Guard, a member of both the Three Battlesages and the Ten Great Saints who stand
in opposition to this demon lord of yours. But who are you?”
“As I stated earlier, I am called Diablo. That is my name, as granted to me by the great and powerful lord Rimuru.”
“…And you still aren’t going to reveal yourself?”
Saare attempted to keep himself friendly and at ease, even as the humiliation was making him reach his boiling point inside. All Diablo’s talk about people failing to “overcome” his terror was a direct affront to him—but he kept his thoughts rational. He wasn’t the kind to let pointless anger cloud his self-control, but in his mind, Diablo was acting far too disdainful with him.
Those demon hunters from the East were a joke, bragging about how professional they were but forced to beg for their lives at the end of it. Saare had let them keep up their act, since Glenda had suggested using them as sacrificial pawns, but this performance was far below his expectations.
Internally, he sneered at the demon before him. I shouldn’t have expected more from private citizens. We are tasked with guarding the Holy Emperor and the god Luminus herself. We are far more prepared to battle than they would ever be!
Despite that, he kept himself on a higher alert than usual. Grigori wanted to fight as well, he recalled, but it looks like the prey chose me instead. In which case…time to make him regret his arrogance.
Diablo was an unknown name, not mentioned in any of the ancient texts he was familiar with. It meant this was no great demon, nothing to pose a threat to him. Red, White—all that pretention. What’s there to be so afraid of? If this was a still-unnamed Primal Demon, all bets are off, but…
He could tell his foe was no regular Arch Demon, but to Saare, this didn’t seem like much to be concerned about. It was the sort of confidence that only the truly ignorant could have. He just knew too little about demons.
In his eyes, if this one wasn’t going to reveal his true nature, he’d just have to rip the disguise off by force. Saare, after all, had enough power to fight a demon lord alone. Valentine may have escaped at the end of their battle, but he was a hair’s breadth away from slaying him. A mere Arch Demon wasn’t cause for alarm at all.