"Impossible!"
The fortress commander screamed.
The main gate had been layered with every manner of magical fortification. Among them was the pinnacle — an 8th Circle Conceptual Magic passed down for two hundred years. *Withstand any single attack regardless of type.* No matter how devastating the assault upon the gate, as long as it constituted an attack, it would endure exactly once.
Seven layers of such high-end Conceptual Magic had been wrapped around the gate. Put plainly, even if you bombarded it with Meteor spells, you would need to bombard it seven times — since each Meteor counted as a single attack. Yet what the fortress commander saw reflected before him was the gate, shattered into pathetic pieces, and a single Demon Lord hauling an axe on his shoulder.
"Well, looks like someone's been tampering with all sorts of things here. My apologies."
Beleth strode through the dust-choked gate.
The guards who had been stationed behind the gate were turned into fragments of flesh the moment it was destroyed. A soldier with an iron splinter and a wood shard lodged right in his temple. A soldier whose upper and lower halves had been separated, spilling pale innards across the ground. Among them was even a man, unfortunately stubborn enough in his vitality to groan in agony.
"Heh heh…"
Beleth swung his axe in rhythm with his footsteps, reveling in the music.
Flesh and moans — these two ingredients composing a slaughterhouse of the mortal world. This was the scenery that Demon Lord Beleth loved most. Only then did Beleth feel alive.
You see, a Demon Lord's sense of self was inherently unstable. It was because they vividly felt the emotions of other Demonkin. Where did my territory end? Where did another's begin? That boundary line was blurred for Demon Lords. Each maintained their sense of self in a different way.
The method Beleth had chosen was massacre. Nothing standing upon the earth but himself. As you cut through a battlefield, there is always that moment. The moment of victory. A moment only the strong can savor. In that absolute instant where he alone stood upon the world on both feet, Beleth could finally say — yes, this is 'me,' there is nothing beyond me.
The groans wrung from half-dead bodies sounded to Beleth like nothing more than a sweet concerto. And so, at the gate where he should have broken through as swiftly as possible, Beleth deliberately walked at a leisurely pace — to drag this time out just a little longer.
"What foul trick have you pulled?!"
"Hmm."
A dissonant note intruded upon the music-like moment. Beleth clicked his tongue. It was the owner of the sword who had earlier come out onto the plain and challenged him to a one-on-one duel. She appeared to be of noble birth, hurling insults at the Demon Lord with crisp, precise diction.
"Oh come now, miss. You don't know a thing about ambiance, do you? Can you not see that I'm enjoying my music right now?"
The sword owner furrowed her brows.
"…Music? What nonsense. There is nothing here but brutal death."
"Oh, well said. There is nothing here but death, indeed. That's what I shall title today's music. Hm. It's poetic. Very poetic. Hm."
Beleth nodded in admiration. The sword's owner felt the other party was mocking her and flew into a rage. She no longer felt this battle warranted any measure of courtesy, and drew her sword without hesitation.
'He's big. That means he's slow.'
The sword's owner lunged at the Demon Lord as she bent low. A larger build meant a longer reach. Even in a one-on-one duel, reach was decisive. This moment—while the other party had yet to properly settle into a stance—was the best and final opportunity.
There was no way the other party would simply allow her to close the distance inside his reach.
'I just need to dodge the first strike.'
An attack meant to keep her at bay would certainly come flying. If she got tangled up in a probing exchange, it was over. The other party would maintain his reach advantage and gradually tighten the noose around her. Like a pack of lions leisurely herding a wounded animal. Eventually she'd be driven in and torn apart.
'Huh?'
But Beleth simply allowed her to close in. Not only that, he didn't even raise his axe. He merely wore a faint smile, as though watching an entertaining spectacle.
'A trap?'
Suspicion flared in an instant. No, the sword's owner quickly judged. She had already reached a level where she could read the next move, and the one after that, from her opponent's posture. The hulking giant truly was standing in a completely undefended stance.
He probably had some scheme up his sleeve. She did not underestimate the Demon Lord before her eyes. However, a few things were certain. That she could thrust her sword in right now. And that the other party had made no preparation whatsoever against her blade.
There was not the slightest need to hesitate.
"Hi-yaaaah!"
With a battle cry, she drove her longsword in at an angle. Beleth still wore that relaxed smile.
"Your Lordship. Forgive the presumption, but there is something I wish to ask."
Zepar, ranked sixteenth among the Demon Lords, spoke. Barbatos responded with a casual "Hm?"
"What is it? Go ahead."
"Why did you entrust the vanguard to Beleth rather than myself?"
Currently, the main force of the Crescent Alliance Army's Sixth Legion had successfully joined up with the Second Legion and was on the march. Hundreds of banners fluttered as they swept across the plains. Barbatos had not mounted a warhorse or a black wolf, but rather sat astride a white bear. The pure white bear and Barbatos, whose hair was equally white, cut quite the figure together.
Barbatos laughed.
"What is it? Sulking like a prissy little thing? How manly of you."
"Hm hm."
Zepar couldn't answer and merely coughed awkwardly. He had once sworn never to lie in front of Barbatos. Admitting he was sulking would be far too embarrassing, but saying he wasn't would break that very oath.
Barbatos, who knew Zepar's feelings all too well, found this half-white-haired old general utterly adorable. After all, she had lived three or four times longer than Zepar. In her eyes, Zepar was still a young Demon Lord. A boy, you might say. Watching him fumble about trying to hide his embarrassment only made him seem all the more endearing.
"Heh heh. You really are sulking, huh? Hey, say something. Is our little Zepar sulking?"
"…Your Excellency. Even a man of my station has his dignity."
Zepar muttered, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Even that tone of voice struck Barbatos as adorable. She let out a soft chuckle.
"Well, it's true I deliberately set you and Beleth in competition. Every organization needs a number two. If there's only one, the whole thing loses its spark. By pitting you two against each other, I'm sending a message to the rest of the Plains Faction too—look, if you don't bust your ass, even the number two spot isn't guaranteed."
"Yes. I understand."
Zepar bowed his head respectfully.
"I take infinite pride in being of use to the Legion Commander."
"Ugh."
Barbatos made a face of exaggerated disgust.
"What is that, a maid's mentality? You were born a man—no, a Demon Lord, of all things—can't you show a little backbone? Forget being 'happy to be of use' or whatever. I'm talking about wanting to conquer the world."
"Your Excellency is the one who carries the hopes of all Demonkin upon her shoulders. In a manner of speaking, you are the very embodiment of the Demonkin's aspirations. To serve you is to work for the Demonkin, and to work for the Demonkin is, I believe, the sacred duty of one who bears the title of Demon Lord."
"Uuugh. You're so earnest. Way too earnest."
Barbatos shook her head back and forth.
She was glad he was loyal to her, of course. But how should she put it—she wanted to see something a little more befitting of a Demon Lord. In that regard, Dantalion was special. Even as he submitted to her, Dantalion stubbornly walked his own path.
'This time will be no different.'
He claimed he was going to rest at the Demon Lord's Castle, so why was he roaming around the Demon Realm out of the blue? He was clearly plotting something sinister behind the scenes. An incredibly diligent and meticulous schemer who never rested for a single moment.
Barbatos actually preferred Dantalion. She couldn't trust him as completely as Beleth or Zepar. But while Beleth and Zepar remained her subordinates, Dantalion had transcended the master-servant relationship to become a friend. Friends with their own goals, who used each other and willingly allowed themselves to be used.
Barbatos had no such friend besides Dantalion.
She once had one... but not anymore. Even if two people had different goals, they could remain friends as long as those goals could coexist. But in this world, there were goals that simply could not coexist. Friends without that thin pretense could become naked enemies in an instant.
Would the same thing happen with Dantalion? Given enough time, would Dantalion betray her too, just like the one from before? If that happened, could she truly endure it? It had taken fifteen hundred years to part ways with her and find a friend like Dantalion. How many centuries would it take next time...?
"If that happens, I'll beat the crap out of him and make him my servant."
"Yes? I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't quite follow."
"No, it's nothing. I was just thinking a whip is the best medicine for those who don't listen."
Zepar's face was a picture of bewilderment. Barbatos ignored his confusion.
"Mmm. Try to understand my position here — I have to pit you and Beleth against each other. Zepar, you racked up a ridiculous amount of merit breaking through the Black Mountains last time. And at Austerlitz, you successfully blocked the enemy's wave offensive."
"All thanks to Your Excellency, the Legion Commander."
"Yeah, yeah. The continents were created because of me, the sky is blue because of me — it's all my doing. Anyway, you stood out way too much during this Crescent Alliance Army expedition. You're the number one contributor. And even the number two, Dantalion, is officially under your unit's command."
Barbatos crossed her arms into an X shape.
"Any more merit and it'll be a problem. Your voice in the Plains Faction will become too powerful. Then I'd have to crush you in some unjust way, and I'd rather not do that. It's much better to just hand some credit over to Beleth."
"Understood."
Zepar nodded meekly.
What mattered to him above all was Barbatos's favor. His worry had been that she gave Beleth the vanguard role because she favored Beleth more than him.
Zepar's face visibly relaxed. Now that his concern had been laid to rest, he didn't care whether Beleth took the vanguard or did whatever else. Honestly, as long as Barbatos was around, the internal political order of the Plains Faction meant nothing to Zepar.
"Well, and Beleth is more suited for the vanguard than you anyway."
"Yes?"
"In terms of commanding troops, you're far superior, Zepar. How should I put it..."
Barbatos grinned.
"That guy, despite how he looks, is actually quite underhanded."
"......"
The sword's owner froze. She couldn't take a single step forward.
The long sword she had thrust forward stopped just an inch from Beleth's face. One step. If she had advanced just one more step, that long sword, swinging with Aura, would have destroyed the Demon Lord's head. The sword's owner could not take that single step.
"Guh—ghk."
Blood gushed from her mouth.
The dark-crimson blood didn't just pour from her mouth.
Her instep, calf, thigh, waist, chest, and shoulder—six greatswords had pierced six different parts of her body. The greatswords had erupted from beneath the ground, or more precisely, from the shadows. The very instant the sword's owner had tried to deliver her killing blow against Beleth, the six greatswords surged up as though they had been waiting, tearing her body to shreds.
Death Knights.
Remembering that they normally dwelled within shadows, the sword's owner endured the agony with superhuman patience. But she could only endure. The greatswords had cunningly ravaged her body, rendering her completely unable to move.
"You... cowardly... a warrior's pride... to you, it means..."
"Ah. That's right. It means nothing. Didn't I already say that?"
Beleth leisurely righted the blade of his axe. He raised the weapon overhead and grinned.
"These days, bastards like me are all the rage."
And he brought the axe down, splitting firewood.