Let the Game Begin

Laborers poured out of carriage after carriage under the pre-dawn sky. They started their commute from the neighboring towns at midnight, getting some sleep on the road. The shortage of housing in the village of Rabbi was one of the most pressing problems.

“Here already...?” one of the laborers yawned.

“Time to make some mon—What the hell is that?!”

“Whatever it is, it’s too early in the morning for you to—Whaaaaat?!”

As they climbed out of their carriages, they each shouted in shock upon seeing the Casino. What’s more, there was even a patch of forest that wasn’t there before.

“What am I looking at?!”

“It—It’s glimmering gold...”

“There wasn’t a forest here before, was there...? What the hell happened?!”

The laborers who were staying in the village laughed. They, too, had stared in disbelief when these things were first constructed.

“Oh, that’s right. You guys weren’t here.”

“What a waste. You missed out on a miracle. How many chances do you get in your life to witness one of those...?”

They apparently couldn’t help but gloat after witnessing something that resembled a scene from mythology.

“The Demon Lord’s returned to the village...”

“Demon... Lord? W-Wait a minute! That’s a nickname or something, right?!”

“No, I’ve heard that he slaughtered some crazy monster up north.”

“Was there a fountain there before?!”

“Shut your traps and get over here!” a foreman shouted.

Their day began with a whirlwind of rumors.

The newly summoned Kondo was there, too, giving the adventurers their orders with a sulky look on his face. He was tasked with keeping an eye on the perimeter of the village, and had been given the more competent fighters to work for him.

“Here’s our route for the day. Keep an eye out, especially for anyone trying to leave with water or salt...” Kondo lazily muttered, his eyes on a piece of paper in his hand. This was still a major improvement on his part from his first few days of being completely jumpy and speaking in a barely audible volume. (Ugh, I want to go back to my room, already... The fresh air is killing me...) Ever since his summoning, Kondo had had an eventful time, to say the least. It was painful enough that he had to interact with other people, let alone do several introductions, which were downright torturous. Worse of all, Tahara had commanded him to lead the village’s security team. Tahara had meant this as a form of shock therapy for Kondo’s social anxiety, but Kondo wasn’t taking it too well. (Security, my ass... I grasped the entirety of this place in ten seconds. And patrolling the perimeter on foot? What, are we in the Stone Age? Tahara needs to learn a thing or two about efficiency...) Continuing to silently curse his current predicament, Kondo turned on his portable cassette player, clearly wanting to get this over with.

In contrast to Kondo’s mood, an upbeat melody and a cheerful voice rang out from the cassette player. “Morning exercise for the Empire, Volume One. Take those hands and stretch to the sky...”

The laborers had initially been awestruck at the music coming from this small box, but they grew accustomed to it quickly, just as they had of the new layout of the village, simply understanding the device to be some sort of magical item. (Ugh... I’d be a bit more motivated if this was one of my fave voice actresses...) Kondo stretched his arms, looking like he wholeheartedly couldn’t be bothered. This was the typical morning stretch routine, a fairly popular practice among Japanese workplaces. Tahara had insisted upon implementing this, perhaps in an attempt to curb Kondo’s indulgent lifestyle. The adventurers followed Kondo’s lead. Surprisingly, this morning routine had been well received by them. For those who could lose their careers with a single injury, a thorough warm-up of their muscles in the morning must have been worth the ten minute investment a day. In fact, even the craftsmen had joined the group. As the exercise came to a close, the members of the Village Defense Force got to work according to their orders.

“So, you’re their leader... How’d a pretty boy like you get the job?” A female warrior approached Kondo, licking her lips and wearing a very revealing outfit. Adventurers had to stand out, above all else, by any means necessary, whether it be in appearance, moniker, demeanor, or theatrics. She was proudly using her figure to her advantage.

However, Kondo’s reaction wasn’t as energized as she had hoped. “I-I’m sorry... I don’t want anything to do with real women.”

“You bet they’re real. You wanna hang out later?”

“I-I’m married body and soul to Ikazucchini-chan from Battleship Collection. What if she thinks I’m cheating on her?”

“Married to zucchini?! You doing Trance in broad daylight?”

“Reality is all a lie... Why won’t they leave me alone...?” Kondo spat out, and the woman left, giving up on having anything to do with him. Kondo pretended to gag before producing his portable video game console.

You’re always working so hard, Yuya! But don’t be afraid to lean on me, okay?

“Th-Thanks... Ikazucchini-chan. But I’m the man, so I have to step up.”

I’m so proud of you! But you have to tell me when you get worn out!

“Of course...! Hee hee hee...”

Watching Kondo engage in buttery sweet conversation with a video game, Tahara couldn’t help but facepalm. His shock therapy might have shot Kondo in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Kondo, why don’t you put the Gaming Boy away and give the ol’ flesh and blood a chance?”

“Gaming Boy...? What decade are you living in? Besides, I have a lot of girls who I am married to on a trial basis.”

“I don’t want to know what kind of ‘marriages’ you’ve got, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a world where the Empire doesn’t exist. Just give one look at this reality. At real people.”

“Th-Then why don’t you give women who aren’t your sister a chance?”

“The hell did you say?! How am I supposed to look away from the greatest angel of all that is Manami?! Hello?! Anybody home?!”

“Th-The only real angel around here is Shigrey from BC...!”

“Huh...?! You wanna say that again?!”

The Demon Lord let out a long sigh, overhearing this on his way home with Aku after relocating the Secret Lair to the Forest of Restoration. The forest seemed less conspicuous than its previous location.

Aku seemed hesitant about how to process the squabble between Tahara and Kondo. “Y-Your employees are...um, very unique, aren’t they, Master Demon Lord...?”

“They have great abilities, believe it or not. As for their character...” The Demon Lord trailed off.

He returned to his office in the Resort, and couldn’t help but wonder what in the world had motivated him to design his characters with such extreme personalities. This sense of regret was long overdue.

(Ugh. I was trying to make them memorable at the time, but now they’re too memorable...!) The Demon Lord collapsed into his desk chair, looking and feeling exhausted. Meanwhile, Aku hopped onto the Demon Lord’s knee as if she was home.

“Oh, I have noticed that more people are calling you the Fallen Angel,” Aku cheerfully noted.

The shadow on the Demon Lord’s face, however, did not lift. “Fallen Angel, huh...?” He still couldn’t guess whether that rumor would serve to their benefit or detriment. As someone who was never interested in religion, he had barely any knowledge of Western mythology. At the end of the day, he knew nothing about this Lucifer. (Goes to show the reverence the people of this country hold for angels, I suppose. Even a fallen one.) The backbone of Holylight was its worship of angels. At times, that faith was regarded higher than secular laws or social contracts. He had expected people to fear and detest the Fallen Angel, but the people had been receiving him with surprising warmth. (I’d even say they’re expecting something from me...) Perhaps their reactions were rooted in the fact that their exaltation and devotion had never earned them a single coin in their pocket nor made their lives any better. The exclusively aristocratic rule had begun to generate support and anticipation for even someone like the Demon Lord.

“A good designer gives the player everything they ask for. A great designer gives them what they want before they think of asking.”

Another quote from Director Aoki sprung to his mind. As annoying as they were, they had all been tested by experience. The Demon Lord had fought on the front lines as a game designer for years, so he was far from oblivious to popular demand and the voice of the collective.

“I believe the Still Angel has summoned you to make this country better, Master Demon Lord.”

“...Didn’t peg that thing for a good Samaritan.”

On the other hand, the Still Angel had longed for chaos to rule and annihilate this world. If he had successfully summoned the real Hakuto Kunai, his wish would have been granted. (If anything’s a false god, it’s that Still Angel...) The Demon Lord decided that it was only fair for him to carry some cynicism with him when the one who summoned him was full of it. (At this point, I’ll use everything I’ve got...) His best course of action was to use whatever he could to recover his features as quickly as possible.

“We have a good source of cash and labor now... Next is the dungeon.”

“You’re going north again...?”

“I think so. There’s no such thing as too much SP, and I’ll be needing more powerful magical items.”

“Then, take me with you—”

“No.” The Demon Lord shot her down. As lenient as he was with Aku about most things, he had no intention of taking her sightseeing to a dangerous dungeon. “You’ll be safe here. With Tahara, Yu, and now Kondo, no monster or devil could come near you if they tried.”

“I’ll still miss you...”

“Erm...” The Demon Lord couldn’t help but wonder what he meant to her, and what she meant to him. (We’re as different in age as a father and daughter, but I’m not her father. Still...) For some reason, he saw Aku as someone he had to protect. Something inside of him toiled with a terribly powerful urge, almost like destiny, to protect her. This sense of purpose had grown more powerful by the day. “I understand...” The Demon Lord quietly said. “I can’t take you anywhere dangerous... Precisely because of how much you mean to me,” he carefully explained. He expected Aku to understand once he gave his reason.

Aku lifted her chin. “How much...I mean to you?” Her meaningful gaze gave the Demon Lord a bad feeling about this, much too late to the draw. “Am I someone important to you, Master Demon Lord?”

“Y-You are...”

“You are to me, too, Master Demon Lord. You are the most important person in my life!”

“I-I see... Ha ha ha...” The Demon Lord couldn’t help but look around, wondering what catastrophic misunderstanding someone might have if they were to walk in now. He felt like that interaction alone could have landed him in the slammer if they were in modern-day Japan. “W-Well, that’s what I mean... I can’t take you to a dungeon, but I’ll build more places for you to play around the village.”

“I’ll be okay...without anything else.” Aku wrapped herself around the Demon Lord.

Holding Aku in her white dress felt like holding a small white kitten in his lap. The Demon Lord stroked her head, gently explaining, “The next time I return...I expect to have another advisor.”

“What kind of person are you calling next?”

“Hm...” The Demon Lord thought of a girl, who was by all means the most talented among the advisors. She had an icy look and tone, but had a kind heart and a loving twinkle in her eye. “Let’s see... She’s kind, like you.”

“Like me?!”

(And most likely... Magic won’t have any effect on her.) If her settings were going to work just as they had in the game, the Demon Lord expected her to become the perfect bodyguard. Just then, a Communication came in from Tahara.

We have a long-awaited visitor, Chief. The lord of the neighboring village to our east wants to see you.

Oh? Wonder what he could want?

Gah ha ha! He can’t just ignore us when you can see the building from a mile away, can he?

I see. Then let us give him a warm welcome.

The Demon Lord ended the Communication with a line that suggested more meaning behind his words than he had actually intended. In reality, he simply wondered if the village elder was there to complain about the sudden construction of a casino. (A lot of casinos and stuff get opposed by communities for things like worsening the crime rate...)

“Is something wrong, Master Demon Lord?”

“Looks like I’m dealing with an irate complaint.”

“You’re going to work, then? Then I’ll go help harvest carrots!”

“Take it easy out there, Aku.”

Subwa Aye, the lord of the village that neighbors Rabbi to the east, sat atop a camel with a disgruntled expression on his face. He had been so rudely interrupted by the foolish clamoring of his people, so he had finally agreed to visit Rabbi just to shut them up. (Peasants. Don’t they have anything better to do than to waste my time? No matter, another excuse to raise taxes.)

Subwa made up his mind, reviewing a list of fine art pieces that had been nearly worn to shreds. Nobles prioritized the acquisition of famous art pieces above all. Growing one’s art collection garnered fame, popularity, wealth, and ultimately, prosperity. No matter how poor their land, a single masterpiece boosted a noble’s clout. (I won’t go as far as to wish for a Lord Crimson. All I need is one decent piece...) Subwa scowled at the list, but was taken out of his thoughts. As the dust storm settled, a giant temple-like construction came into view. (A mirage...? No, there’s something lit up!) Subwa rushed his camel forward towards an unbelievable sight. While he had been delivered news about the neighboring village, he had been too consumed with art to even leave his manor. He had, with much reluctance, finally bothered to make the trip at his people’s insistence, and now he was faced with an otherworldly sight he would have never expected. He had only known the village of Rabbi as a dilapidated little settlement. In fact, it was common knowledge among nobles that a Holy Maiden was the lady of the land, but only in name.

“What is this...?! What’s happening?! Am I dreaming...?”

An unending horde of people went to-and-fro throughout the village. They were all busily working, a stark contrast from the rest of the nation. The roads were generously paved with expensive stone sheets, topped with more shops and stands than Subwa could count. What’s more, there were several buildings still under construction. The most mystifying feature, however, was the enormous fountain in the center of the village. The prospect of a spring erupting in the middle of the arid wasteland was an unthinkable one, but the fountain stood nonetheless, with a long line of people waiting to have their canteens filled by an attendant.

“How did that forest sprout here?! And what’s that giant temple behind it?!” Subwa shrieked, unable to bear any more of it. He seemed desperate to try and wake up when Tahara wandered over, as if to hammer in the reality of the situation.

Tahara had a physique without a shred of excess and a bizarrely foreign appearance. To top it off, he was exuding an aura that showed he brazenly acknowledged his own strength. “Took you long enough,” he started. “I’ll give ya the tour since you’re here, but my boss has got a short fuse. Does not go easy on useless dunces...or boneheads that don’t know when to get off their asses.”

“Wha...?!” Subwa nearly fell from his camel in anger.

He would have been hard-pressed to find any other man who would greet a noble with such insults. “Oh yeah. My name’s Tahara. I’m in charge of the construction projects around here. Not that we’ll see each other for long, but no need to skip introductions, huh?”

Subwa chewed his lip, baffled by the unbelievable rudeness displayed against him. (Filthy...peasant! Who do you think I am?!) He raged, but somehow failed to find the words to set the man straight. In fact, he felt an increasingly visceral pressure constrict his lungs.

“I mean, I’ll get you in the door, but... Don’t get your hopes up, ’kay?”

Infuriated as he was, Subwa wisely decided to dismount his camel. Tahara had been so thoroughly talking down to him that he instinctively acted to protect his social status.

“Smart move. That earned you a brownie point or two.”

“M-My name is Subwa Aye... I-I humbly request an audience with the lord of the village...” Now he was completely dancing in Tahara’s palm. Subwa felt an eerie dichotomy of blinding humiliation and an almost irresistible urge to grovel before Tahara.

Villains, more often than not, exuded a strange sense of reliability to their allies. As if by second nature, Tahara had carried himself in that way, drawing an irreversible contrast between him and Subwa.

Meanwhile, Subwa was frantically recalling all of the rumors about the village that had been brought to him. (So this was what the peasants were going on about...!) Subwa was sure of that much after seeing more hustle and bustle than he had ever seen in his life. Moreover, he feared Tahara, who seemed to be the orchestrator of this operation, let alone whoever his boss was. Judging by Tahara’s appearance, they were undoubtedly foreigners. (As I recall, the man has the nerve to call himself the Demon Lord...) Subwa had scoffed at the rumor before, just like he did at the rumor about the resurrection of the King of Devils. Being a creature of myth, the rumor had faded away after a short time, so he considered the rumor of the Demon Lord nothing more than a joke.

But now... (What is this peculiar structure...? It’s unconventional yet spectacular...!) Any skepticism was swept from Subwa’s mind the instant he laid eyes on the Hot Springs Resort. He stepped through the front door after Tahara, but could barely walk straight. (H-Have I wandered into another world...?!) Subwa heard Tahara say something, but couldn’t retain the words, on the account of being surrounded by priceless treasures. “L-Lord Tahara, what is this place...?! There are masterpieces hung everywhere, and that vase, for example...!” Everything from the sliding doors and vases to the paintings hung on the wall were each a magnificent piece of art in their own right. The faint tune of a koto was drifting into his ears from somewhere, further accentuating the atmosphere, and therefore the beauty of those art pieces.

Tahara turned around, straight-faced. “Keep yapping, and the Secretary’s gonna crack your skull wide open with a marble ashtray. I’ve seen too many morons go out like that.”

The warning hit Subwa like a bucket of ice water. (Th-This can’t be happening...! What savage monster am I about to face?!) It was plain to see that Tahara had spoken in earnest. Terror shook Subwa from the pit of his stomach.

Eventually, Tahara came to a halt before a heavy door. “Here he is, Chief,” he said.

(P-Please... Let him be a reasonable man... Save me, glorious Angel...!) Subwa prayed, as if he were kneeling at the gallows. When he entered the room, he could see the back of the head of a man sitting in a chair across the room, his pitch-black hair instilling dread in Subwa. When the chair swiveled and revealed him... Subwa nearly screamed, (No, it can’t be! He’s the Demon Lord, no doubt about! Who else could he possibly be?! Why have you forsaken me, Angel...?!) The man’s glare, coupled with his crushingly intimidating presence, made Subwa buckle at the knee, overcome with the powerful regret that he had not pledged servitude to this man sooner. Now, he was painfully aware of what Tahara meant when he said “Took you long enough.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you... Oh? Are you feeling well?”

“Y-Yes...!”

“I must thank you for making the long journey on such a scorching day,” the Demon Lord said.

The politeness and the cool smile maintained by the Demon Lord caused Subwa to break into a flood of sweat all over his body. Subwa was now assured that the Demon Lord was playing a game to torment him.

“Simba Way, was it? You must have pride in your name.”

“I-It’s Subwa...” Subwa’s meek suggestion never reached the ears of the Demon Lord.

Meanwhile, Tahara stood to the side, shoulders shaking and mouth agape. While he kept silent, Tahara seemed desperate to contain his laughter. The Demon Lord stood and approached the couch in the center of the room. Subwa nearly screamed, silently begging for the man to remain at the other end of the room. His desperate prayer to the Angel was left unanswered, however, as the Demon Lord sat on the couch and gave Subwa a look that seemed to pierce into his soul. Much to Subwa’s horror, the Demon Lord held a large marble ashtray in his hand. (Nooooo! H-How could this be?! He’s going to kill me!) A sign of courtesy from the Demon Lord had come across as horrifying as a death sentence.

Seeing how all the color had drained from Subwa’s face, Tahara interjected, “Can’t have a conversation if he’s too busy shaking in his pants, eh, Chief? Let’s take it easy.”

“Hm...” The Demon Lord produced a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Of course, he had no intention of scaring Subwa, but his presence was overwhelming, given how he sat there like the godfather who ruled the entire world with a massive crime syndicate. Subwa, on the other hand, was quivering like a newborn goat.

“You’d better take a seat, too,” Tahara said. “The Secretary’s a busy man.”

“Y-Yes!” Subwa took his seat on the couch, almost collapsing from fear. He already felt like he was on death row before the conversation had even begun.

While the Demon Lord thought this was some sort of complicated complaint, Tahara had another plot in mind entirely. “Hate to start ya off with bad news... But looks like your lordship ain’t for long. You noticed a thing or two about this village, didn’t ya?” This was a ferocious remark from the high ground, making it sound as if Subwa’s fate had already been decided upon.

“W-Well...” Subwa stammered.

“I don’t think I need to go over some differences between your village and ours. They say the grass is greener on the other side. Well, what do you think your people see when they look over at our side?”

Subwa could only grunt in response. In fact, he had already faced resistance from his people precisely because of how much greener the grass of Rabbi had grown.

“I wish I could tell you a little pushback from your subjects would be the end of it... But it does look like you’ve always pushed them back down by force. You wanna know something? Sooner or later, that built up resentment is going to blow. In this case, my money’s on them ditching their farms to find refuge somewhere else.”

Typically, nobles avoided causing strife between each other by extraditing any refugees that might turn up from neighboring territories. (But if they were to seek refuge here...) Subwa wandered, and a chill crawled down his spine.

Tahara grinned, as if he knew all along that Subwa would reach this conclusion. In a nonchalant tone, Tahara piled on, “Just to be clear... We’re not trying to make your folks skip town on ya. We just can’t bring ourselves to not help those in need. Our lady, the Holy Maiden, is just full of compassion.”

(As if... You knave!) Subwa was assured that Tahara and the Demon Lord were waiting precisely for his people to come running to them. If he were to protest or request extradition, he would be giving them the perfect kindling to burn his whole place down. (I didn’t expect them to go for such a slow kill.) Subwa didn’t know if they were going to blame his people seeking refuge on the heavy taxes or his general negligence, stemming from devoting his time and attention to his art collection. In any case, the defection of his people was sure to become a tale of embarrassment that echoed all the way to Central. Any of these possibilities was a fatal blow to someone like Subwa who ruled a small village way out in the country. (Think of something, think... Anything to get out of this!)

Despite his desperation, not a single solution came to Subwa’s mind. After witnessing prosperity of inconceivable proportions and facing down these powers backed by the Holy Maiden, Subwa saw no way to come out of this a winner. Nobles, by nature, gravitated towards and preferred to support the powerful. No respectable noble would give a fallen-from-grace country noble a second glance. In fact, they would only be incentivized to kick him while he was down.

Seeing that Subwa was living out his own personal apocalypse, Tahara plopped himself down next to the lord, and—as if he had just walked into the room—patted him on the shoulder. “And that’s my spiel...” he said with a friendly grin, the intimidating aura completely gone from him.

“Huh?” Subwa felt the crushing weight slip off of his shoulders.

“My B, my B! Just wanted you to have a nice, clear picture of our situation here. The tough-guy act’s over, now... Let’s talk about what lines our pockets, eh?”

“M-Money, you mean...?”

“From what we’ve gathered, you collect about five gold medallions a year in taxes. You’ve never changed that rate no matter how bad the harvest was, either. Remember when you let twelve of your folks starve to death?”

“Y-Yes, I think so...” Sweat began to trickle down Subwa’s face. He couldn’t even imagine how Tahara had uncovered the statistic when Subwa had meticulously covered it up. (At this rate, he may even know of the other incident last year...!)

Hardly any noble was spotless, so Subwa gradually sank into doubt the more Tahara talked. With the exception of Yahooo, the land east to the Holy City was a barren and undesirable expanse, mostly occupied by nobles like Subwa, whose lands were barely sustainable. Indeed, they were nobles in name only. The fact that Subwa was receiving the equivalent of a very high salary in the modern world was a testament to how heavily he was taxing his people.

“So, I got a proposal for ya... Wanna offer your land to the Holy Maiden?”

“Offer... You wish to strip me of everything to my name?!”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll get you a pension of five gold medallions a year in exchange. You won’t be bothered with governing anymore. You can focus on your art collection.”

“Pension...” In this world, pensions were a form of honor payment, given to families of Holy Knights who had died in combat, or to soldiers who were honorably discharged and forced into retirement. Naturally, Subwa had no medals nor achievements to speak of that would have earned him a pension. However, that wouldn’t be true for long if he offered up his entire land to a Holy Maiden.

“Just to be clear, this ain’t a one-generational deal, either. The pension will carry on with your bloodline. You’ll get an official document signed by Holy Maiden Luna.”

“By Lady Luna...” Subwa slightly narrowed his brow, visibly less trusting of Luna’s signature than White’s.

Tahara, having expected this reaction, swiftly pulled the ace from his sleeve. “If that’s not enough, you’ll have the Madam’s signature right below hers.”

“The Madam’s?!” She was nothing short of a deity to a country noble like Subwa. Someone whom he could only dream of catching a glimpse of from a distance.

“The pieces over there were gifted to us by the Madam, actually. Pretty clear to see what kind of relationship we have with her, don’t you think?”

“Could it be...? A Count Cross painting?! An Ema vase?!” Subwa shrieked upon inspecting the carelessly set up art pieces. He had been too nervous to even notice them before this point.

As the Demon Lord listened to their conversation, he quietly exhaled a puff of smoke. He couldn’t help but feel like Tahara was employing some yakuza negotiation tactics: flashing a gun under the jacket and scaring the wits out of the target before finally handing them a carrot. Their objective of garnering a positive reputation had given way to full-blown intimidation. (I thought I was just going to field a nasty complaint... But this is an opportunity we can’t let slip through our fingers!)

As if he was reading the Demon Lord’s mind, Tahara piled on, first with a caring look... “Sure, I won’t stop ya if you decide to put up a fight, but if you do...” His eyes shone bright with violence. “We won’t hold back.” His gaze swallowed Subwa, robbing the man of his senses. “Even a little kid would know the better deal: A, you’re strolling down easy street. B, you’re tossed to the desert without—”

“A-A-A-A-A-A-A sounds like the better option, indeed! Yes, sir!” Subwa sprang. He felt like, if he had let Tahara finish his sentence, he would be forced into choosing option B.

In truth, that was exactly Tahara’s intention. “Oh yeah...? Then let’s wrap this up.” Tahara grinned and patted Subwa on the shoulder again. Their conversation wrapped up cleanly, concluding the real estate extortion under the guise of a generous offering to the Holy Maiden.

The Demon Lord sighed out a white cloud of relief. (I don’t need to lift a finger with these guys around... This ruling thing is a piece of cake.) The Demon Lord produced a piece of junk from his Item Folder after watching the whole exchange. He had initially intended to present this as a form of compensation if Subwa had been irate. “I can’t let you leave empty-handed after coming all this way.”

“Th-This is...!” Subwa gasped at the item the Demon Lord had nonchalantly handed off to him. This was what Akane had acquired in Belphegor’s castle. For all the Demon Lord knew, this bizarre wooden sculpture was nothing more than a piece of junk. “Could it be real...? No, it can’t be! It must be a replica... No, I can’t deny it, it’s real!”

“You have a good eye...” the Demon Lord said knowingly, concealing his shock at Subwa’s freak-out. The item depicted a little red bird, sculpted by Lord Crimson, who had crafted numerous masterpieces while serving as minister of his country. Owing to the fact that most of the Lord Crimson pieces in this world were stored in Belphegor’s treasury, the price of any one of his creations rose to an astronomical level. Collectors called them Mirage Relics. Subwa had dreamed many nights about owning one of these.

He straightened his back and dramatically bowed down on the ground, holding up the sculpture. His cheeks were wet with genuine tears as he was rendered almost speechless. “Wh-What an h-h-honor—”

“I was moved by your faith...” The Demon Lord answered with a smile. “I’m sure White, as well as Luna, will appreciate your pure show of devotion.”

Subwa felt relief wash over him, convincing himself that this had nothing to do with money or violence, but was a bona fide offering of burning devotion. There was no truth to this, of course, but most people would struggle to turn down such a good excuse. Subwa decided to fully embrace it.

“You can stick a fork in that,” Tahara said as he threw himself down on the couch after seeing Subwa off, a satisfied grin on his face. “Came in clutch with the souvenir, Chief. He’s way into that thing, huh? Kinda weird that he wouldn’t stop crying over it.”

“I just happened to come across it, so I’m glad he liked it.”

“Yeah, as if. Knowing you, you went and found the thing for exactly this purpose.”

(I thought it was a piece of junk!) The Demon Lord silently protested.

Tahara produced a map as he scratched his head. He marked off the new addition to their territory and began to contemplate. “What are your thoughts on the add-on, Boss?”

“The village to our east... Reserve a portion of it for a temporary shelter, and use the rest to expand our fields.”

“Thought so...” Tahara commented.

The Demon Lord had meant it as compensation for the trouble he had caused the Bunnies when he first began modifying the village. Expanding to the east also allowed them to expand their farms.

“I’ve been racking my brain about how to take in the Bunnies we got back from abroad,” Tahara said. “They left on their own accord, once. Thought it might leave a bad taste for both sides to have them waltz back now that the village is booming.”

“Hm...”

“But it’d be a different story if we’re hurting for field hands to tend to our newly expanded farmland. I bet it’d be easier for them to come back if we’re asking for a favor, y’know?”

“That’s a splendid idea.”

“Ah, gimme a break. I can barely keep up just tracing the tracks you’ve laid out.”

(That’s my line!) As badly as the Demon Lord wanted to disagree with him, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Tahara. People as cunning as him often felt emotionless or condescending, but Tahara never ignored human emotions, which gave an impression of kindness. (How cool is this...?) The Demon Lord simply thought. Characters he had designed ages ago were now advising him in real life. He couldn’t imagine a more satisfying manifestation of his creations than this.

“I’ll get a grand homecoming rolling, then. We’ll need Bunnies by the hundreds if we want that casino up and running.”

“What of the villagers we’ve acquired?”

“I’ll toss ’em a generous amount of coin to have ’em build the temporary shelter. Give ’em a taste of the golden Shangri-La we’ve got in store.” Tahara wanted to create a natural cause and effect of joining the Demon Lord’s ranks and enjoying their prosperity. In fact, he specialized in manipulating the flow of the public in this way.

“More rapid constructions to the east...”

“Well, now that we’ve got our first, all the offerings will start to snowball.” Tahara drew a large red circle on the map to the east of the village... The area encompassed about a third of Holylight’s landmass. Their plan of taking over the country was steadily becoming a reality.

“The problem’s over here... Apparently, he’s not backing down. Heard he’s scrambling to get his troops in order,” Tahara chuckled, pointing to the western side of Holylight. Western Holylight belonged to Dona’s noble faction, containing abundant mines that produced Water Spell Stones. “It all started with that trap with the music box, then that little rat they sent, the Military and the Central nobles making up... Now they’re finally baring their fangs at us directly.”

“Dona Dona, was it? Sounds like he should head off to market.”

“Bah ha ha! You’re killing me with those jokes, Chief!” Laughing heartily, Tahara circled the majority of Western Holylight, too.

The Demon Lord didn’t need to ask what he meant. (It’s going to start...) As serious as the matter was, the Demon Lord had no reason to object to this plan. The more he discovered about Holylight, the more he was sure that letting Tahara run the country would leave most people much better off. Besides, expanding their territory seemed like a must if he wanted to defeat his impending enemies.

—GAME OVER—

The eerie line of text flashed in the Demon Lord’s mind again. Every time it did, he could feel something deep within him boil. He couldn’t tell if the emotion he felt was anger, rebellion, or simple defiance, but he knew for certain that he wanted to clock straight in the face whoever had sent him that message.

(Now... Let this Game of yours commence.)