There was a swell of pride in the way Buphue spoke. As though he were the one who had built the city from the ground up.
He was the type who projected his identity onto his organization. A mere employee taking that kind of pride—not even a high-ranking one—was somewhat ridiculous, but I let it slide. The cityscape was far more interesting to me than his psychological makeup just now.
Whitewashed villas stood in neat rows. They lined both sides of the alleyways, and because the alleys were so narrow, laundry lines drooped like spiderwebs between one building and the one across from it. Clothing and blankets hung from them as though they had been blowing through the air for a good while before happenstance snagged them there. Occasionally, as you walked through those maze-like alleys, a wide-open plaza would appear. Most of them had elderly demonkin sitting on benches, chatting idly.
"Hey! The service here is garbage!"
A shout rang out from one corner of the plaza. There stood a small, shabby bar—one of those neighborhood joints that doubled as an open café. An old Cat Tribe man was on his knees before a man inside.
"Our deepest apologies. Our establishment is severely lacking—"
"You damned cat. Of course a backwater bar like this is going to be worthless. I came all the way out here because I wanted to get a whiff of some authentic local flavor, you understand? Eh? But what do I get? The service is garbage, the alcohol is lukewarm, the tables are filthy—I'm in a terrible mood now."
*The service being garbage, the alcohol being lukewarm, and the tables being filthy probably are the authentic local flavor,* I thought with a silent retort. The old man was surely thinking the same thing. Fierce hostility and hatred were radiating from the barkeep in real time.
Beside me, Buphue lowered his voice to a whisper.
"...I'm afraid I've guided you the wrong way. I'm sorry you had to witness such an unpleasant scene. It would be best not to engage with that man."
"No need to apologize. You were the one who suggested we come here. What, is that fellow someone in power?"
"More than someone in power—he... Please take a close look at his head."
That was when I realized it. The Cat Tribe old man's emotions were coming through loud and clear, but I couldn't feel a thing from that troublemaker. I looked more carefully at his head, just as Buphue suggested, and there it was—a small horn jutting from the back of his skull.
*Ah. So that's how it is.*
I figured out what was going on. I can't read human emotions. But it turned out there was another race, beyond humans, whose emotions I couldn't read either.
"That man is the seventy-second-ranked Demon Lord, His Excellency Andromalius."
Wow. First Demon Lord I've ever seen besides myself.
But then—
"I didn't say apologize with just words—I said show me your sincerity! Your sincerity! No wonder they say Cat Tribe, yowling like a cat in heat in the middle of the night—that's all you know how to do, eh?"
Andromalius kicked the old Cat Tribe elder in the ribs.
…He really didn't look any different from some neighborhood thug. Even I, who called myself a Demon Lord, felt too embarrassed by my lack of dignity or authority—but I was still better than this Andromalius or Andromeda fellow. I wasn't the only one who felt that way; Buppa shook his head in disapproval as well.
"Even a rundown neighborhood tavern has one or two organizations backing it. Normally, if you harass a tavern owner like that, the organization retaliates on a systemic level."
"Is no one stopping him because he's a Demon Lord?"
"That is correct."
Buppa clicked his tongue and continued.
"Lord Andromalius resides here in Niflheim. He's almost always causing trouble."
"He lives here? What about his Demon Lord's Castle?"
"He leaves it to his subordinates while he himself plays around at a resort. According to rumor, Lord Andromalius's Demon Lord's Castle is like a massive mine. Goblins constantly mine magic stones, and with the money they earn, he indulges in luxury and pleasure here in Niflheim."
Good lord. He was the textbook definition of a scoundrel. So a Demon Lord like that existed too.
"He especially enjoys casinos. Apparently, he burned through ten thousand gold at a casino just a few days ago. Of course, the Goblins had to swing pickaxes all through the night just to earn that ten thousand gold."
"What a piece of trash."
"That is an apt description."
In the game *Dungeon Attack*, Andromalius appears during the tutorial. He serves the role of dying easily to the Hero's sword strikes. His only subordinates were a few weak Goblins, so much so that even a level-one Hero could take him down—and now I knew why. All this time I'd thought I was the worst Demon Lord, but it turned out I was practically a gentleman by comparison.
Leaving him alive would just hand experience points to the Hero for no reason—so why not just kill him right here? Andromalius's event was supposed to trigger the protagonist's awakening as a proper Hero, though.
'Status Window.'
Just in case, I checked the other party's stats.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[Name] [Stamina] [Attack] [Defense]
- Andromalius 5 3 3
Puhah!
You're crazy weak!
Good grief. A Level 1 lowest-grade Golem has stats of 7/5/5 (Stamina/Attack/Defense). To put it plainly, Andromalius had stats that were far inferior to even the lowest-grade Golem. No matter that he was a Demon Lord — it was beyond impossible to understand why the residents of Niflheim were just passively letting such a pathetic creature be.
"Why are you people leaving a worthless larva like that alone?"
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Lord Andromalius is, at the very least, a Demon Lord."
"If you're saying he deserves to be put on a pedestal just because he's a Demon Lord, then all I can say is that's foolish. Whether you're a king or not, everyone has to prove their own worth. That pig is nothing more than a waste of the title Demon Lord."
Bufue's eyes went wide in shock.
"…You are correct. However, we demons are inherently unable to resist the Demon Lord."
"Inherently?"
"You didn't know? The moment a demon attempts to act with hostility toward the Demon Lord, excruciating pain wells up. It's so painful you can't even move a single finger."
What did she just say?
It was shocking. Didn't this mean the Demon Lord was, at the very least, untouchable by anyone in the Demon Realm? There was no way humans would invade all the way to the Demon Realm, and even if they did, it was highly unlikely they could conquer Niflheim.
In short, in the Demon Realm, the Demon Lord was literally a king. Did Dungeon Attack have that kind of setting? This was completely new information, even to a game addict like me.
'Uh…no. Actually, there's something I vaguely remember.'
In Dungeon Attack, somewhere around the mid-to-late game, there's an event where a Demon Lord's subordinate joins the protagonist's party.
The subordinate ends up falling in love with the Hero while fighting alongside humans — a totally cheesy story. And naturally, the subordinate is a gorgeous woman.
There's a scene where the subordinate cries and clings to the Hero, saying, 'I have a body that can't resist the Demon Lord.' So the Hero uses a particularly powerful Slave Brand spell to make the subordinate obey only his commands. After that, the subordinate is constantly throwing herself at the Hero and sexually appealing to him, but…anyway.
"So that's why she couldn't resist."
I had just assumed the subordinate had some kind of curse branded onto her. A curse that prevented hostility toward the Demon Lord — something like that wasn't out of the question. She was a supporting heroine, not the main heroine, so I hadn't paid much attention and just moved on, but it turned out there was an important setting hiding in plain sight.
'So that's why the Goblin tribe wasn't able to resist properly a while ago!'
When I was subjugating the Goblin tribes around the Warhammer Village, the Goblins had fallen almost without a fight. I'd assumed it was because my Golem squadron was powerful, but in reality, it was because they simply couldn't resist me properly as a Demon Lord.
This was enormous information.
My mind raced. The strategies available to me multiplied in an instant. Take the Goblin tribes, for example. I could threaten them into attacking a specific village. The more they defied my orders, the more they'd suffer in agony, and fear of that pain alone would eventually force them into submission.
Huh, I was really getting my money's worth from this spa trip.
"In terms of pure combat power, even the cat tribe member who runs the tavern could overwhelm Your Excellency Andromalius. Yet she's reduced to kneeling and begging for mercy. That is the kind of cruelty a Demon Lord is capable of."
Bupha was feeling hatred.
So was I. The more intense the hostility I sensed from the elderly cat tribe member, the more my own hatred toward Andromalius grew. Normally, I would have kept my emotions at a measured distance, but knowing that the other party was the most insignificant of the insignificant, I didn't bother restraining myself.
"I have a question. Are demons completely incapable of resisting the Demon Lord?"
"As a general rule, yes. The only ones who can stand against a Demon Lord are other Demon Lords. Ah, of course, lowly humans can technically rebel against Your Excellency as well."
Bupha gave a faint laugh. It was close to a scoff.
"……."
I fell into brief contemplation.
The Demon Lord Andromalius was a trash mob that appeared in the <Dungeon Attack> tutorial. He leads a Goblin squad to brazenly raid the protagonist's village, slaughtering the protagonist's parents, younger sister, and all the villagers. The misfortune was that the protagonist's village happened to be located near Andromalius's dungeon.
That was exactly seven years before the game's scenario begins—roughly three years from now. The protagonist, having suddenly lost family and fellow villagers, is picked up by chance by the A-rank adventuring party called the "White Wings," where the protagonist grows in skill and gains companions as the party's youngest member. Then, seven years later, the protagonist storms into the Demon Lord Andromalius's dungeon. Naturally, Andromalius—who was nothing more than a trash mob—is cut down without ceremony.
"Bupha. Is there any faction that supports and protects the Demon Lord Andromalius?"
"No, there is none. Just as our Kunkuska Trading Company assists Your Excellency Dantalion, there was once a trading company that assisted Your Excellency Andromalius. But they've all since fallen away."
Hmm.
"Are there any Demon Lords who are fond of Andromalius or on friendly terms with him?"
"There are none, as you might expect. Even among the Demon Lords, Andromalius is held in poor regard. It's much the same as how Your Excellency Dantalion just called him garbage. However, Your Excellency…"
Bupha tilted her head.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, may I ask why you made that inquiry?"
"It's nothing much."
I let out a small snort of laughter.
"I just find it amusing to think that if he vanished right now, no one would mourn him."
"…Your Excellency."
Bupha's voice jumped up an octave in surprise.
"Surely you don't mean—?"
"Well, well, who do we have here! If it isn't the great Chief of the Kunkuska Trading Company himself, and his loyal little lackey!"
That was Andromalius's voice, directed our way. It seemed the two of us whispering about him from a distance had rubbed him the wrong way. Andromalius kicked the old Cat Tribe man's head aside with his right foot, hawked up phlegm and spat it on the ground, then strolled over toward us.
Bupha bowed her head.
"Greetings, Your Excellency Andromalius."
"So stiff, are we? Hm? You must have a hard time of it, running around day and night as a little bat-bastion's errand runner. Come to think of it, you're a bat-bastion yourself, aren't you! Well, I'll be. I forgot all about that. Sorry about that. I've gotten so used to calling vampires bat-bastions that it just slipped out without thinking. Will you forgive my little slip of the tongue? Hm?"
Wow—I could practically feel the emotions bubbling beside me like a pot about to boil over. Bupha had been simmering away like a pot of boiling water for the past hour straight.
"…Of course, Your Excellency. How could I ever presume to speak of your Excellency's shortcomings."
And yet her expression hadn't changed at all — a trader through and through, that much was clear. Lapis was the same; the Kunkuska staff really had mastered the art of keeping a straight face. Well, Lapis didn't really have a face to begin with, but still.
"There, there. That's just how the world works, isn't it? Hm? Just because you've got a little bit of power — rice-grain-sized, mind you — doesn't mean you go looking down on others. Bat-bastion. I've been watching you for a long time, and I have to say — your character is truly awful. Arrogant, that's what you are. You handle a bit of gold and suddenly you think you can laugh at a Demon Lord, is that it? Hm?"
"…I will take your words to heart."
Bupha's emotions had evolved from pot to cauldron.
"But who's this fellow next to you? Long and lanky, with a sour look on his face. And his head's completely empty too. Hm? Here I thought he was some great sage or other."
"This is His Excellency Dantalion. He has come here to attend the upcoming Walpurgis Night."
"What? Your Excellency?"
Vigilance crept into Andromalius's eyes. He turned his body completely towards me and cautiously offered a handshake.
"Cough, my apologies. I failed to recognize your status and was rude just now."
His tone had changed in an instant. Even without sensing the other's emotions, his thoughts were as plain as the palm of one's hand. Andromalius was a low-ranking Demon Lord. He was probably worried about accidentally offending a Demon Lord of much higher standing and ending up in trouble.
I smiled brightly and clasped his hand in return.
"Not at all. I've long heard of Your Excellency Andromalius's reputation and have wanted to visit. It's a pleasure to meet even by such chance."
"What reputation is there to speak of? If you'll pardon the question... what is your ranking, Lord Dantalion? My interest in the affairs of my colleagues has been lacking, so I'm afraid I didn't recall you."
Well, now. Here was a fellow who didn't even properly know the names of his mere seventy-one natural enemies. It was a wonder he'd survived this long. Though, perhaps he knew that himself, which was why he stayed cooped up in Niflheim instead of the Human Realm.
"Shamefully, my name sits at the 71st rank."
"What? Seventy-first?"
Andromalius's face twisted. Was it because he realized I was a Demon Lord only a single rank higher than him? His attitude shifted once more.
"Tch, you were just trash!"