The Demon Lord Marbas.
Formerly ranked fifth, now King of Pannonia, granted the title of Sebastokrator by the Habsburg Empire, recognized as the sole member of the Imperial Family aside from the Emperor, leading the Neutral Faction among the Demon Lords — an elderly gentleman.
This Demon Lord, who seemed to have no one capable of opposing him, was — remarkably — currently sighing to his heart's content.
The cause was the ceaseless noise erupting around him. Three female Demon Lords were having a vicious conversation right beside Marbas.
"Ugh, listen here, you empty-skulled hags. I've got first dibs on the reservation, so keep your drooling to yourselves. Be good and just piss off while I'm asking nicely."
"My, my. It's not order that matters but the sequence. Well, I suppose when you've only been hanging around with brainless corpses, you wouldn't know the difference between the two."
"The only thing either of you two does is eat and add belly fat. Hehe. Wouldn't it be only natural that the person who works the hardest gets the greatest reward~?"
In order, Barbatos, Paimon, and Gamigin stated their positions.
All three Demon Lords were grinning from ear to ear. But if you looked closely — or perhaps you didn't even need to look that closely — every one of them had only their eyes smiling while the corners of their mouths trembled violently.
As the female Demon Lords' lips quivered, it was as if the vibrations spread outward, and even the air in the palace courtyard trembled uneasily.
Here was a truly historic achievement. The Plains Faction, the Mountain Faction, the Neutral Faction — these factions had been locked in feuds and rivalries for millennia. But at this very moment, the factions had tacitly agreed upon a monumental accord: do not approach within a twenty-meter radius of those female Demon Lords.
And so, with the exception of a Demon Lord of Marbas's caliber, every other Demon Lord was keeping well clear. Faction distinctions meant nothing here. The Demon Lords had transcended their ideological and philosophical differences to reach a common consensus — namely, "I absolutely, genuinely do not want to get dragged into this…"
"Ahhhh? Brainless corpse? That would be you, not me — the one who planted a flower bed on her own skull. What have you ever done for Dantalion besides give him a stomach ulcer? Now that he's got power, you wag your tail so nicely — oh, how very noble of you."
Barbatos snorted contemptuously and looked up at Paimon at precisely thirty-two degrees. It was the very gesture Dantalion had once warned him about: "It has the destructive power to make a buried Saint kick open her coffin and hurl a torrent of curses, so never use it on anyone."
"Oh my, you're right — she's not a fox, she's a Succubus! A prostitute spreading her legs for a man in power — that's just being true to her professional ethics. I misspoke. Sorry, prostitute. I forgot you're a prostitute and then insulted you for acting like one. I do hope you can generously forgive me for my mistake of calling you a prostitute, prostitute."
A vein bulged on Paimon's forehead. Marbas could swear he heard a pop. It must have been a blood vessel bursting. At the same time, Marbas felt his own stomach rupturing. It burned.
"Oh my, and to think that a woman who summoned a horde of courtesans to the palace the day before yesterday for an orgy has the nerve to call someone a prostitute. I hear it was quite the ball. Throwing your body around like that day after day — I wonder if any holes are even left intact. You're tiny as a child, yet every hole's been stretched loose, hasn't it?"
Paimon shook her head in exaggerated fashion.
"Sigh, I feel so sorry for Dantalion. He already has to sleep with a flat-chested little thing that's concaved like the Strait of Gibraltar, and now it's gotten to the point where he can't even tell if he's inserted anything or just violating the air. And all because you dated briefly back in the day — going on about how you were his 'first' and whatnot… Ugh, there's nothing more repulsive than a woman who clings so pathetically."
Yet another sound of a blood vessel rupturing came from somewhere.
Barbatos and Paimon were now practically nose to nose, muttering at each other.
"Which one of us is the filthy rag, you slack slag?"
"If I'm a rag freshly rinsed in water, then you're the one that's been used to scrub the floor, wipe the table, mop the bathroom, then tossed in a corner and left to ferment for three months."
"Oh my. In other words, you're requesting that I cut off your head and let it ferment for three months?"
"So the young lady can't rebut my words, and now you want to settle this with a fight? How simplistic of you — almost as if you're worried someone might call you barbaric and crude. Are you perhaps lacking a few wrinkles in your brain? If you'd like, the young lady can carve some in for you personally."
Marbas's stomach ached worse and worse.
The palace courtyard had become so saturated with mana that it was nearly the Demon Realm itself. Even when forty Demon Lords had assembled to subjugate the Great Demon Lord Bael, breathing had been easier than this. It was the truth.
*'If even I'm this ill, what in the world must he be going through?'*
Marbas looked to the side.
There stood a half-human, half-demon Succubus, back straight and tall.
This was Dantalion's personal secretary, the one who administered state affairs in his absence — Lapis Lazuli. She stared straight ahead with her usual expressionless gaze, as if entirely oblivious to the war raging beside her.
"So, Lazuli. Who gets to go first~?"
While Barbatos and Paimon were locked in their battle of nerves, Gamigin sidled up to Lapis. It was a rather submissive posture for a Demon Lord addressing a mere Demonkin. Given that Lapis — a human hybrid — was treated as an untouchable in Demon Realm society, this was nothing short of extraordinary.
The reason for this attitude was simple.
"Let me see. If we carry over from the situation six months ago and calculate accordingly: Lady Barbatos, four times. Lady Paimon, twice. Lord Gamigin, three times. For the sake of fairness, it is Lady Paimon's turn next. That is the natural order."
She was the one who managed Dantalion's bed — this half-breed Succubus.
Not only lovers of relatively low rank like Laura or Jeremy, but even the female Demon Lords had their sleeping arrangements determined by Lapis Lazuli's scheduling. After Gamigin and Paimon had staged a jealous lovers' quarrel and fought bitterly the last time, a thoroughly fed-up Dantalion declared, "I'm handing all management over to Lapis!"
The result:
"See! The young lady gets to go first!"
"Hey, hey, hey. Madam Prime Minister. Let's not be so rigid about this, hmm? In the Empire, I outrank everyone by position. That Paimon over there is two ranks below me. Even cold water has its hierarchy — naturally, I should go first."
"Ha ha, deciding matters of a Demon Lord's intimate life by Imperial ranking? That's logic a passing slime would die laughing at. I'm fine with it. Not being first is a shame, but second is acceptable, I suppose."
The three illustrious female Demon Lords who commanded the world were occasionally subjected to a tragedy — no, a comedy — where their fates hinged on a single word from a half-breed Succubus.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have been a problem. Dantalion was randy as a dog in heat year-round, and the female Demon Lords could play the part of his lovers without any great blow to their pride.
The problem was that Dantalion had now been absent from the palace for over six months.
In a situation where time had been "reset" like this, a female Demon Lord's pride was staked on who monopolized Dantalion's time first — that is, who dominated him most decisively.
If you fell behind the others… say, if Barbatos spent her time with Dantalion one day later than Paimon, she would become "the woman who comes after Paimon." The female Demon Lords would absolutely not tolerate such a fate.
Dating other lovers was fine. They couldn't have cared less. Paimon was seeing Sitri, and Barbatos had countless lovers of her own. After all, they were all free-love advocates.
—But becoming someone who ranked below another female Demon Lord was out of the question!
"Madam Prime Minister. Here's what we'll do. I'll limit myself to just two sessions this month. Hmm? Just two. In exchange, push me up the schedule. Surely there's room for that much flexibility in this cutthroat world."
"Don't be absurd!"
"Puhuhu. One session is more than enough for me. What's our little corpse-woman blathering about now?"
"Then damn it, tell me to wait until all three of their turns are done! I'd rather die than see that, you worthless pieces of—"
"Excellent. The young lady will personally fill your eye sockets with dirt!"
"Ahhh!?"
"Haah!?"
Marbas coughed.
He examined his palm. Blood. The excessive stress had mixed blood into his cough. Marbas prayed earnestly from the depths of his soul. *Dantalion, please come quickly. If you make me wait any longer, an irreversible apocalypse may unfold…*
Just then, Sitri, who had been watching the battle of nerves from a short distance away, tilted her head.
A bombshell dropped from Sitri's lips.
"Hm? Then why don't the three of you just sleep with him together?"
"……"
"That way, everyone's tied for first. Hehe. I think Dantalion would prefer a quick, hassle-free solution over stressing about stuff like this anyway."
Silence.
Barbatos, Paimon, and Gamigin pointed fingers at each other as if they had rehearsed it.
"That I—"
"With these low-class—"
"—sleep together?"
Sitri beamed. A brilliant, sunflower-blooming smile.
"It's the perfect solution! Even I think it's genius. Oh, and I could join in too — that'd be even better. Tee-hee."
"I must say, there is logic to that."
Lapis rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
"In that case, the schedule would be far easier to manage as well. What do Your Excellencies think? If you agree, I could personally convey your wishes to Lord Dantalion…"
"Absolutely not!"
The three female Demon Lords shouted in unison, vehemently.
Lapis sighed.
"Then I have no choice. In that case, Lady Sitri shall be first priority."
"Huh? Why Sitri? Wasn't I first?"
"I humbly apologize, but Lady Paimon is technically not first either."
Lapis bowed deeply.
"I meant first among the three of you currently present. When calculated across the entire schedule, Lady Sitri takes precedence."
"……"
While everyone stood dumbfounded, a teleportation magic circle materialized at the palace's main gate at just the right moment. Black mana spread like mist in all directions, and from within it, Dantalion emerged.
Sitri rushed to meet him as though she had been waiting, throwing herself into his arms. Like a pet dog greeting its long-absent owner.
"Welcome home, Dantalion—!"
"S-Sitri. Ha ha. You're heavy."
Dantalion was startled but caught her against his chest all the same. Still holding Sitri, he surveyed the Demon Lords assembled in the palace courtyard.
"Come now. You've all gathered like this just for little old me? I'm positively mortified."
"Are you not returning in triumph?"
Marbas said.
The truth was somewhat different. Barbatos, Paimon, and Gamigin had rallied their respective factions under the pretense of welcoming Dantalion. But Marbas knew from experience that there are truths one must keep silent about.
"All we who waited idly in the capital can offer as a reward is this much. Don't be modest, Court Count."
"I am truly grateful."
And so Dantalion shook hands individually with the roughly thirty Demon Lords who had come to welcome him. Even a Demon Lord who harbored ill feelings toward Dantalion found it difficult to maintain a hostile expression when the other party bowed so deeply in greeting.
Incidentally, even while Dantalion was making his rounds of handshakes, Sitri clung to his waist like a leech.
"Oh, Dantalion. Drop the pointless ceremony and just go inside already."
"……I sincerely apologize on Sitri's behalf, comrades. Please, from the bottom of my heart, accept my apologies."
"Come on!"
Dantalion sighed and walked into the palace. With the welcoming ceremony ending abruptly and swiftly, most of the Demon Lords — who generally despised hollow formality — happily dispersed. Among them, the first to leave the courtyard was, naturally, Marbas.
"……"
"……"
"……"
Only the three female Demon Lords were left behind in the confusion.
The three exchanged glances and sighed in unison. Then each turned and trudged off in a different direction.
It was, in truth, the loneliest sight imaginable.