I looked up at the cigarette smoke.
"The lives of happy people are all generally alike, but unhappy people are each unhappy in their own way… A certain wise man once said that."
"What does that mean?"
I shook my head.
"No, it just popped into my head. A passage I read years ago that I hadn't thought about once since then. Human memory is a curious thing."
When was it? Back in my first year of university, during a liberal arts elective? It was only a few years ago, yet for some reason it feels like it was an eternity ago……
It was definitely a line Tolstoy wrote at the beginning of Anna Karenina. Back then I'd read it without the slightest impression—it was nothing more than black text on white paper—so why was it coming back to me now?
Probably because everyone around me is broken in some way or another.
Lapis, a half-breed of demonfolk and human; Laura, sold by her own family into slavery; Jeremy, forced into the life of an assassin since childhood……and Parsi, whose father died and who was forcibly made village chief. Every single one of those I could call my retainers ended up in wretched circumstances.
Parsi didn't become village chief because he wanted to. Jeremy certainly didn't choose it, and Laura didn't willingly become a temple slave either. And Lapis—where in the world would she have chosen to be born a half-breed? They were all made unhappy despite having done nothing wrong.
Isn't that unreasonable?
"……"
I spent that night at Parsi's house. Since I could go days without sleep without any issues, I sat by the window, puffing on my cigarette, and thought.
'Being unhappy because you did something wrong. That's fine.'
You can repent for what you did wrong, reflect, and take steps to ensure it never happens again. And perhaps you'll find happiness. But what if you're unhappy despite having done nothing wrong?
There's nothing to repent for, nothing to ask forgiveness for. The one at fault isn't you—it's the world itself.
In other words, they have every right to take revenge on the world.
Unjustly forced into misery, it is now our turn to impose injustice upon the world. We are beings fundamentally composed of malice, and it is none other than the world itself that has granted us that malice.
I am the Demon Lord. A king is one who acts on behalf of his subjects' wishes. As the Demon Lord, I shall act on behalf of my retainers' revenge.
Indiscriminate revenge.
'Barbatos, that is my way of kings.'
Compared to your kingly path of granting the wishes of all demonkin, mine must seem infinitely dirtier. Still, we have no other way. Would you understand, proud girl?
The night passed quietly.
"Yo, brother. Sleep well last night?"
The next morning, I rejoined Fabian. At the village entrance, not just Fabian but twenty adventurers were noisily making a ruckus. They were all adventuring parties from the city, gearing up to storm the Dantalion Demon Lord's Castle.
"Fortunately, I found a place to stay. Did you sleep well, Fabian?"
"Damn it, I paid a fortune for lodging and still ended up sleeping in the stable. These village folk—take one look at an adventurer and they start baring their teeth, I swear."
Fabian scratched his bald head.
"Still, they've got some conscience—got me fresh straw bundles for a blanket. It was decent enough. A whole lot better than using clouds as a blanket, wouldn't you say?"
"Of course… But there's quite a crowd gathered. Is some kind of appointment set?"
I looked around. Fabian spoke, sounding surprised.
"You've never joined an adventuring expedition of this scale?"
"No. I mostly ran with five-man and ten-man parties."
"Ah, I see. Then this'll be a first for you."
Fabian flashed a sly grin.
"You'll find out soon enough. What happens when over a hundred adventurers gather in one place—see it for yourself."
A short while later, without anyone giving orders, dozens of adventurers began to move. One party took the lead, and the rest slowly followed behind. I walked along, chatting with Jeremy in Ancient Imperial language.
But this sight wasn't limited to the village we'd stayed in. The closer we got to the Demon Lord's Castle, the more groups of adventurers—dozens strong, just like us—started appearing on both sides. As the groups merged, the number of adventurers ballooned from twenty to fifty, then a hundred in the blink of an eye.
"Ho."
Before long, we arrived at the dungeon entrance, where adventurers were lined up in long rows. A rough headcount put the number at around a hundred and fifty, give or take? As I marveled at the spectacle, Fabian spoke up beside me.
"When this many adventuring parties gather at once, they tend to converge at a certain time and enter together," he said. "It's not like anyone formally arranged it—it's more of an unwritten rule."
"Why is that?"
"Your odds of survival are higher than going in alone."
Fabian shrugged.
"Nobody knows what kind of Monsters are living in the Demon Lord's Castle or what traps are set. You're hoping some other adventuring party triggers the traps in your stead. Honestly? We're talking sacrificial lambs here."
Indeed. Simple, but effective.
I wasn't expecting coordinated, elite-army-level movements or anything. Just having other people serve as bait was advantage enough. In games, only small-scale parties focused on the protagonists ever appeared, so I'd had no idea this was how it worked.
"But wouldn't it be a disadvantage to go in first? Wouldn't everyone prefer to enter later?"
"Heh heh. True enough, but if you go in late, you're falling behind in the competition."
Enter early and you bear greater risk. In return, the rewards are there. So that was the idea.
"The Demon Lord's Castle is flooded with mana. The Monsters that feed on that mana—their hides are tough and durable, perfect for selling to merchants. Their bones can be sold to the magic guilds. It's all money, my friend."
"If you want to earn big, go in first. If you prioritize safety, go in late..." I murmured.
Fabian nodded.
"Bottom line, the groups with the most confidence in their abilities are always the ones to go in first. Pride is on the line too, you know. Which party entered ahead of the others, or which one fell behind—word like that spreads fast and ties directly to a party's reputation. Look over there."
Fabian pointed toward the dungeon entrance. Standing apart from the riff-raff were a handful of clearly distinguishable adventurers. One wore high-quality leather armor. Another had a chain mail cuirass over his chest. They were at least a D-rank party, minimum.
They were sizing each other up with hard stares, restless and coiled.
"Derdalus of the Gale, the Madwoman Mireel, the Viper Devourer Dithart... Every last one of them is a name worth knowing around here. Take out the ones who left to go fight in the war, and these are the best of the bunch. Hm, the bad blood between those ones has gotta be something else."
"The fact that nobody's drawn swords yet is what amazes me," Fabian said, perfectly at ease.
"Well. It won't be long now before things get settled."
Just as he said. An adventurer built like a mountain took a step forward. Behind him, a party of adventurers filed into the Demon Lord's Castle one after another. The adventurer who'd been locked in a battle of nerves whipped his head around and shouted.
"We're moving out too!"
"Get your heads right!"
Once the first one broke ranks, the rest surged forward in a crowd. The adventurers at the front — the scout role, typically filled by former rangers or foresters, in other words, hunters — rushed ahead first. Nobody had formally coordinated with them, but they compromised among themselves and moved together like a scouting detachment.
Fabian wrinkled his nose, clearly displeased.
"Hmph. That bastard Derdalus is all fired up. I told you he'd be the first to die."
"There's no guarantee he'll die."
"No, there isn't. But there's no guarantee he'll survive either, right?"
Fabian let out a hearty laugh. We, too, were swept along by the crowd into the Demon Lord's Castle.
Unlike the sunlight outside, the interior of the dungeon was bathed in the blue-green glow of mana-infused lumistones embedded in the walls. Adventurers who'd brought torches, worried the dungeon might be dark, felt a bit foolish. Fabian had also brought torches, and he murmured in surprise.
"Huh, there's more mana here than I expected. At least we won't have to turn back for lack of torches."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"There are upsides and downsides. The upside is, of course, not having to rely on these damn torches... Hey, you son of a bitch! Give me some space!"
Fabian was in the middle of explaining when he suddenly erupted at someone behind us. The group of adventurers who'd been crowding right on our heels shouted back. Fabian and the group traded curses for a while before casually widening the gap between them.
"Tch. When everyone's bunched up like that, there's no room to swing a sword and you all just die together, die together. These greenhorns are nothing but impatient... Now, where was I?"
"About what the downsides would be if the Demon Lord's Castle is rich in mana."
"Ah, right. The downsides. Simple, really."
Fabian gave a shrug.
"The more mana there is, the more Monsters live there. Goes without saying. From our perspective, though, you could look at it as a bounty of prey worth a fortune."
"In other words — the reverse could also be true, and we could end up as the prey."
"Exactly."
Fabian grinned.
Just then, a commotion erupted ahead. The clang of steel and shouts bounced off the cavern walls and echoed through the passage. Someone yelled, "Goblins!" It seemed the group that had entered first had encountered their first Monsters.
The disturbance died down quickly. The adventurers appeared to have dispatched the goblins with ease.
"Not much of a threat. Nobody's screaming about running away. Well, we're still at the entrance, so that's to be expected. Good vibes."
They walked for about ten minutes with that feeling.
As time passed, the adventurer groups grew smaller. It wasn't because Monsters had gotten to them. The dungeon simply kept forking. The passage split into three. The various adventuring parties chose left, right, or center according to their preferences and scattered.
"…Hmm."
Fabian stopped in front of the fork. Perhaps he had realized there was no point deliberating. He took the right path, which a relatively larger number of adventuring parties had chosen.
Shortly after, another fork appeared. This time there were two branches. When yet another fork turned up, the adventurers hesitated. They were worried about their numbers dwindling, but the passage had narrowed too much for over fifty people to crowd into.
"…."
The adventurers split up once more. They took the right path. Having set out later than most, Fabian's party gradually moved toward the front as the groups ahead of them vanished into other branches.
They walked for roughly ten more minutes.
This time the adventurers had come to a complete stop. The roughly hundred and fifty who had set out had dwindled to around twenty. They stood together in one spot, exchanging worried looks.
Fabian murmured.
"…This is getting a little unsettling."
Before them lay yet another fork — the passage even narrower than before.
If it split two ways here, the twenty would become ten. They would be reduced to the size of an ordinary small adventuring party. It was no wonder the adventurers, who had drawn confidence from their numbers, were reluctant to face that outcome.
While everyone hesitated, Fabian spoke to the adventurers.
"I say, everyone — how about we join forces here? I think it would be better to push on through a single passage, even if it means cramming in a bit."
The adventurers, likely just as anxious, agreed with Fabian. They entered the right-hand passage one by one, keeping some distance between each other, not knowing where they were headed.
Completely unaware that this was the "beta test" of my new Demon Lord's Castle.