Ch.61Mid-term Exam – 4

In this world, demons are inherently long-lived beings, and they grow stronger in proportion to the time they spend reveling in blood and violence.

This means that demons who have lived for a long time have the power to back it up. The weak ones become sacrifices to their own kind before they can live long.

But that’s not all. The longer demons live, the sturdier their bodies become. Their ability to slice rocks with their nails and tear through steel with their teeth is due to their physical strength, which increases in proportion to the years they’ve lived.

These physical characteristics, combined with the demon culture that worships strength and pursues blood and violence, gave birth to the mockery of armor.

The belief suddenly began to spread that a truly strong demon should be able to withstand attacks with their physical abilities alone rather than relying on armor.

The high-ranking demons with power and skill fell completely for this seemingly perfect argument, and naturally, a culture emerged where those who wore armor were ridiculed as cowards.

The change in clothing was also based on this mockery. Since demons consider blood and violence as everyday occurrences, they believed that extreme exposure in everyday attire would better showcase their strength.

Once perceptions began to change, society transformed in an instant. In just a few hundred years, exposing one’s body became considered a privilege of the strong throughout the demon realm.

More exposure for strong demons, less for weak ones. So it was only natural that the Demon King, the pinnacle of all demons, would be dressed in almost nothing.

The only exceptions were succubi, who had always worn something resembling scraps of cloth, and vampires, who had traditionally preferred nobility over violence.

“That’s the reason the Demon King dresses like that?”

“…Unfortunately, that is so.”

I lowered my gaze.

The taut dress barely covered half of my violently large breasts, which were so big they seemed aggressive, while the side slit rose past my hip bone nearly to my ribs.

The only other clothing I wore was black stockings reaching mid-thigh and an opera glove on my right hand. Judging by my smooth sides, I wasn’t wearing underwear either.

In terms of exposure alone, it was less than Rosaria’s “saint’s outfit,” but that was created for a special purpose, so it’s beside the point.

“Then why are you embarrassed? You’re a demon too. Isn’t that outfit normal for you?”

I pretended not to know and probed carefully.

I know why she’s embarrassed. It’s because the one inside isn’t the Demon King but someone who possessed her body. Until now, I thought it was highly probable, but seeing her attitude, I was one hundred percent certain.

‘This will also tell me how the Demon King thinks of me.’

Whether she simply considers me a character who suddenly appeared, like Rosaria does, or as a fellow possessor in the same situation as herself.

“That is…”

After hesitating for a while, the Demon King seemed to finally think of an excuse and carefully opened her mouth.

“…You are a human male, are you not? Your values are completely different from demons. I know that by human standards, my attire is no different from that of a cheap street prostitute.”

‘She thinks I’m just a character.’

That made sense. Who would imagine there could be another possessor besides themselves? I also thought I was the only one brought here before I met Priscilla.

I didn’t know other possessors were in the same situation.

“…Will you believe me now? If not, look, I am holding nothing. I am wearing such clothes, exposing every part of my body to you without reservation. Even now, can you still not believe me?”

The Demon King spread her arms slightly. Unlike our first meeting, she was now completely defenseless. Her expression desperately pleaded with me to trust her.

Of course, she wouldn’t want to kill me. From our first meeting, she had said she would never kill me. That feeling probably hadn’t changed at all.

I smiled slightly as I lowered my guard.

“You say it’s because I’m human, but that sounds like a lie.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s because you’re not the Demon King but a possessor. Since you’re a human possessing the Demon King’s body, it’s natural you can’t adapt to demon culture, right?”

“……!!!!!!”

Her pink pupils widened. Her expression showed she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. The Demon King asked in a trembling voice, stumbling over her words.

“H-how… h-how… how…?”

“How? I’m just like you—oof?!”

Before I could finish, the Demon King suddenly rushed at me and body-slammed me. I reflexively braced my legs to stand firm. I almost fell back ungracefully.

The Demon King who embraced me trembled with her entire body.

“Truly… are you truly a human like me? Not a mere replica that only repeats given actions like the others, but a human who can think and act on their own?”

“Yes. I only saw the prologue of this novel before being dragged here. Talk about bad luck. I should never have read that romance fantasy novel.”

Romance fantasy novel. Prologue. Dragged here. With each word that would be incomprehensible to any character in this novel’s world, the Demon King let out silent screams.

After trembling for a while, the Demon King buried her face in my shoulder.

“Just a moment… truly just a moment will suffice. Can you let me stay like this for a moment? My legs have gone weak at the thought of finally meeting a real human, not a fake…”

It was just as she said. The Demon King’s body seemed so precarious that she would collapse at any moment if not for her arms wrapped around my neck. I put my hands around her waist to support her.

I wondered why her speech pattern remained unchanged even after revealing she was a possessor, but that was something I could ask later. I didn’t know how many times she might have regressed.

The Demon King murmured, almost crying.

“It has been so long… such a long time… how long has it been since I met someone I could open my heart to like this…”

As her embrace around my neck tightened, my chest began to feel constricted. It was due to her chest armor, which was comparable to or even larger than Rosaria’s, far surpassing Priscilla’s.

Barely enduring the immense pressure on my chest, I spoke when the sounds of sniffling and swallowing tears subsided.

“How many cycles has this been for you?”

“I have regressed eighty-nine times, so this is the ninetieth cycle…”

The Demon King started to answer reflexively but stopped, realizing something was odd, and looked up.

“H-how do you know that? Were you perhaps in the same situation as I?”

“No. Besides me, there are two others in the same situation as you. They also regained control after meeting me.”

Moreover, if this is her 90th time, that’s the second highest number after Priscilla. If she regressed every 5 years like the others, she’s lived as the Demon King for nearly 450 years, which explains why such speech patterns have become habitual.

“You say there were others in the same situation as I? Who might they be?”

“People you know. Priscilla Agnes and Rosaria Leone de Michaela.”

“…The magician by the hero’s side and the saint’s slave. I understand.”

The Demon King seemed to know Aria as the saint, not Rosaria. Well, their only connection was that they fought after Rosaria was stripped of her position and Aria was appointed as the saint.

“But why are you not like us? N-not that I mean you should be like us! I’m just curious…”

“I don’t know.”

I truly don’t know. Perhaps it’s because I possessed a child who was originally destined to die, or there could be other reasons I can’t even begin to guess.

It’s something I can’t know right now.

“These demons…”

The Demon King, still in my embrace, didn’t stop talking even after standing there for a long time. It seemed like all the resentment from not being able to have proper conversations burst out at once.

I quietly listened to her voice full of bitterness, and only after what felt like three or four hours did I carefully interrupt to ask a question.

“So why did you come here? Did you really just come to see me? What if you get caught?”

“I can guarantee I will never be caught. I am a being tens of times stronger than that black dragon. Deceiving the magic or senses of those underlings is nothing to me. Rest assured, the fact that I descended here will never be recorded in the surveillance magic tools. And… in truth, there is one more reason.”

“What is it?”

“Eventually, the time will come when you must deal with the Legion Commanders.”

“I suppose so.”

The Demon King is no longer an enemy, but the Legion Commanders below her need to be dealt with. Unless there happens to be another possessor among them.

“I have made arrangements before coming, so would you like to kill one of them in advance right now?”

The 4th Legion Commander of the Demon King’s Army and Vampire Lord, Rakul, gathered the power he had just received from the Demon King. His heart was beating several times more powerfully than usual.

The power given by the Demon King was truly tremendous. In this state, he felt so arrogant that he thought he could defeat all the other Legion Commanders combined.

He had been warned that if his vessel was insufficient, he would be devoured in reverse, but Rakul didn’t care. How could he, a Vampire Lord, be insufficient as a vessel?

It was absolutely impossible.

‘I shall repay this grace with infinite loyalty.’

Recalling the expressions of the other Legion Commanders who had watched him receive power, Rakul felt elated and strengthened his loyalty to the Demon King.

After dealing with the target, he planned to gift another throne to the Demon King. Even that would not amount to a thousandth of the grace he had received.

What material would be good for the next throne? The throne made solely of virgin bones had been flatly rejected, so he needed better materials.

‘Children and their parents would be suitable.’

Making parents kill their own children, then beheading them with their expressions of despair intact to decorate various parts—it would make an excellent throne with blood dripping from it.

Rakul called his subordinate and ordered him to capture about a hundred pregnant human women and their husbands, then transformed into a blood mist. The blood mist in the form of a vampire passed through the dimensional gate created by the Demon King.

It was a dimensional gate specially made to infiltrate without being caught by inferior human magic. Even as he crossed over, Rakul trembled with gratitude for the Demon King’s grace.

Emerging into a long corridor, Rakul checked his surroundings.

‘A fake made to imitate a dungeon.’

Rakul immediately recognized that this elaborately constructed dungeon was fake. He felt some displeasure, but the Demon King’s orders took precedence over his personal feelings.

He detected nearby warmth and life signs. His target this time was a man named Mira Crate. The man who had essentially won against Maker and Raptarukus, and withstood Astaroth’s pheromones.

The expressions of the three mentioned as examples of failure had been quite a sight to see. Each face was contorted with shame and dishonor.

‘Fools.’

Rakul was convinced that those failures were due to the others being fools. How incompetently must they have handled things to fail to kill a mere human, forcing the Demon King to give direct orders?

‘There he is.’

Detecting life signs not far away, Rakul charged forward in his blood mist form. In this state, Rakul could not be properly detected unless directly exposed to sunlight.

Especially in an artificial dungeon interior like this with no proper light source, it was virtually perfect invisibility.

Rakul boldly charged toward the front of the man, intending to enter his body. The moment he materialized inside the human body in blood mist form, the weak human body would burst—

“Gah?!”

“What nerve to come in like that? Do you think I’m blind?”

Somehow, a knife was precisely lodged in the core of his blood mist form. Rakul was shocked. Not only had he detected the blood mist, but he had also precisely stabbed the core?

It was a wound that would heal as soon as the knife was removed, less significant than being pierced by a twig, but the act itself was surprising enough.

“Vampire Lord, was it? I’ve never fought someone like you before… Well, I’ll figure it out. But first, let me satisfy my curiosity.”

Rakul realized that his blood was trying to flow back through the blade and exerted force to block the reverse flow. Mira let out a small exclamation of admiration.

“You’re resisting? I guess Lords are different after all?”

“You!”

Filled with rage, Rakul tried to release his power, but Mira’s action was faster. His black eyes sank deeply. A chillingly cold voice flowed from between his lips.

—I need your blood.

Simultaneously, the blood constituting Rakul began to boil.