One Night Carnival

After leaving the docks, the Demon Lord and Ren activated Stealth Stance to return to the main street unseen, weaving through the lines of shops. The Demon Lord looked rather excited, ready to browse for a souvenir to bring to Aku.

Ren, you can go walk around the city for a bit. I have something to take care of. After bringing back a bizarre picture book as a souvenir last time, he intended to get something more substantial. Moreover, he felt that a piece from one of the pop-up shops on the street would put less pressure on Aku. She hasn’t worn the silver circlet I got her even one time... he thought. But that thing’s not practical. The Demon Lord began to ponder what sort of jewelry would suit Aku’s life in the village. A gift for a woman was one thing, but picking out a gift for a child was proving to be quite the conundrum for him.

He Communicated to Ren, We’ll meet up somewhere later... Hm? He noticed that Ren had taken off her tie and bound their hands together with a heart-shaped knot. What are you doing, Ren?

It’s dangerous to leave you alone, Master.

You don’t think...I’m going to set something else on fire, do you?

You may get lost, Master.

Am I a child to you...?!

I’d just feel better like this.

The Demon Lord frowned, but he couldn’t deny the uncontrollable sense of security he felt just by having her close to him—Ren was created to protect him, after all. That much was an irreversible part of their code, encrypted within them on a molecular level. He, too, was bound by his own designs, by the rules of his creation. That’s why, for example, he was still taken aback by Yu getting closer to him than expected.

Fine... Let’s go.

Yes, Master.

Still invisible, the pair kept strolling from shop to shop but they didn’t find anything noteworthy: only lot after lot of cheaply made rip-offs. Bingo’s store had much more stylish options. Despite Bingo’s eccentric personality, his shop was a hidden gem of great style and quality.

Finding a kids souvenir is harder than I thought...

For the girl you spoke of before? Something like a basket of fruit may be better appreciated.

Indeed...! That might be more her style. As a perpetual bachelor, the Demon Lord lacked even the most basic knowledge about children. Perhaps a food that doesn’t exist in this world.

Splendid idea, Master.

Hm. I’ll pick something out later.

The Demon Lord carried on with a pep in his step, mentally scrolling through the foods from the game.

They carried on down the main street until they reached a large stone construction before them. Oh? That’s the colosseum we’ve heard so much about... Something he hadn’t expected was a gigantic awning above the colosseum—a giant dome of fabric held up by Wind Spell Stones that allowed matches to be held rain or shine.

I believe there’s an entry fee, Master.

We are no thieves. We’ll pay up and enter through the front.

They were no thieves, but they had provoked the Company, destroyed the Five Stars, and burned down a ship full of valuable cargo, so they were at the very least criminals. If Jack could have overheard their conversation, he might have had an aneurysm out of frustration.

As the pair dispelled their Stealth Stance, the men in the box office looked astounded; the man who was the cause of such chaos in the city had walked right up to them. With Jack in attendance for the ceremony, this was going to spell trouble.

“K-King... What are you doing here?!”

“I came to look for inspiration. How much to get in?” the Demon Lord asked nonchalantly.

“L-Like hell you are! You’re after the boss’s head!”

“Or are you here to beg for mercy... Huh?” One of the box office clerks stopped here and rubbed his eyes a few times. The man rumored to have cast a devastating spell in the slums was now bound by the hand to the girl next to him, with a heart-shaped bow no less. The clerk burst into laughter. “Hey, King! What’s that supposed to mean, huh?!”

“You’re here to give us a good laugh?!”

“Must be some great spell, huh, King?!”

The three clerks continued to laugh, one of them even tearing up as he slapped his knee.

Damn it, I forgot to take this off...!

“King! Why don’t you teach me the magic of getting hitched with a cutie like this?!”

“King’s got a sensitive side, huh?”

“Gah ha ha! Stop it, I can’t take it... It’s too funny...”

The three of them found the situation so funny that they still would have burst out into laughter even if they had understood the repercussions of doing so.

Meanwhile, the Demon Lord felt something about to snap. “Oh? If you want to see me perform magic so badly...” The Demon Lord untied his hand and retrieved Pitfall, one of the Trap items, from the void.

After quickly tossing the trap by the feet of the clerks, the Demon Lord ruthlessly smashed the red button in his hand, causing a dark hole to open in a radius around it, sending the trio falling straight down.

“Aghhh!”

“Owww!”

“Where’d this hole come from...? W-Wait a minute! I’m afraid of the dark!”

While the trap only inflicted 5 damage, its true usefulness was in keeping the target occupied until they managed to crawl out. Setting this against an active pursuer was a difficult feat to accomplish, but it proved quite effective against three men defenselessly guffawing.

The Demon Lord created a series of Anvil Trap items and began throwing them down the pitfall at full strength. This was yet another cartoonishly pointless item that only dealt 1 damage each, but it was quite an effective weapon at pissing opponents off.

“What are those?!” the men shouted as the comical sound effect of anvil crashes echoed through the entrance, followed by a stereotypical laugh track. Despite its lack of tangible damage, the anvils dealt significant damage to their dignity.

“Gah, that hurts! Who the hell is laughing like that?!”

“K-King! Just because you have a hilariously sensitive side and we laughed at it— Grah!”

“Afraid of the dark, you said? For I am merciful, let there be light.” The Demon Lord created another batch of prank items, Firecrackers, and lit their fuses with the solemnity of an Olympic relay runner passing the torch, tossing them one after another into the pitfall.

“Aagh! What the— Hot hot hot hot!”

“Hot, it’s so hot!”

“King, you— Hot hot hot hot!”

“Ha ha ha ha! What, you rats don’t want to nibble on those crackers?! If you manage to make it back up here, I’ll Mufasa you back down!”

Even though he was wasting precious SP, the Demon Lord was having the time of his life. As he clapped his hands in delight, he realized that Ren was watching him and swiftly put on his stoic mask. “Erm... That’s enough of this detour.” The Demon Lord stuck a cigarette between his lips and Ren smoothly lit it, with a happy glow in her eyes. She simply seemed happy that her master was happy.

“You do show your youthful spirit sometimes, Master.”

Perhaps embarrassed by Ren’s endlessly soft and embracing gaze, the Demon Lord kicked down the steel door to the colosseum in an attempt to show his Demon-Lord-of-the-Empire-ness. He was too little too late, of course, but he was going to play his part until the bitter end.

“How cheap and tacky... Is this Jack’s little playground?”

Regardless of his true feelings, the Demon Lord appeared as domineering as he possibly could be to the spectators, drawing all eyes to him. Many of them had already heard the rumors of King and immediately recognized the brazen intruder as such. At the same time, their anticipation was building: could he bring about an unscripted surprise? The arena constantly craved blood-pumping, hair-raising action.

As if to quench their thirst, the Demon Lord gave the arena a once-over and boldly announced, “Let’s see the best this Jack of All Trades has to offer...” The Demon Lord walked straight down to the front row and commandeered a seat. Ren took her place next to him, leaning into him. “Don’t mind us,” the Demon Lord called, “Carry on.”

From that undeniably royal behavior, the secret hope for a surprise event quickly reached a boiling point among the audience.

Jack himself was visibly shaken by the intrusion. He recognized instantly that the impudent man in black was the rumored King but had no idea how he could possibly be there.

Meanwhile, the master of ceremonies turned to Jack for direction as to how to proceed. Jack’s temper was nearing an explosion, but he gestured with an aggressive wave of the hand for the emcee to carry on with the show.

What the hell is Diamonds doing...?! He might as well have glass eyes in that dumb skull of his! There was King, sitting in the front row of his colosseum after he’d ordered Diamonds to lock the slums up airtight. While Jack cursed his failure, Diamonds was merely a victim in this case. No one could have expected that this target could turn invisible and even teleport. And what about those Five Stars bastards...? Even they screwed up?! The mercenary company he paid top money for, completely wasted. While Jack’s rage intensified, he managed to keep a cool head. I can’t lose it in front of all these spectators... I gotta play it cool. Rumors that some City States mercenary was single-handedly making a laughingstock out of the Jack of All Trades could be a major detrimental blow to the Company. After repressing various factions through force, Jack expected the pushback would be devastating if his grip of fear and violence over the people were to break. Worst case scenario, it could lead to a revolution and the collapse of his rule.

At Jack’s command, the master of ceremonies called to the crowd as if no intrusion had been made. Following his announcement, smiling women in revealing clothing began handing out match cards to the spectators.

Spectators began speculating results and contemplating bets as they read their match cards, the commotion in the colosseum only growing louder.

“Look at this, Ren. The night show has three acts.”

“It’s intriguing to not know any of the contestants.”

The emcee called once more, and the metal bars to the east and west of the arena rose up, through which each contestant entered.

“Now, now,” the master of ceremonies continued, “a slight delay aside, all guests are welcome at the Jack of All Trades. Let’s! Make! Some! Moneyyy!”

The first ones to enter the arena were not hardened warriors—it was an emaciated man and a neurotic-looking woman. Neither of them looked like they knew what they were doing, the weapons in their hands too big for them.

“They’re shaking,” Ren remarked.

The fight began without fanfare, and it devolved into a cheap spectacle. Two untrained randoms from the city swinging their weapons around teary-eyed was more like grown-ups playing sword fight.

They lost their breath after a few swings, and they cried out in pain at any slight draw of blood. The spectators couldn’t get enough of the skit, clapping and laughing their heads off.

“It is peaceful in a way...”

“I agree, Master.”

A clash of two people who didn’t know how to fight and had no intention of killing each other. At times, masked men would whip the pair back into the center of the ring. This was merely the dumb play that served to relax the audience before the real fighting began.

“Wine and snacks, wine and snacks here!” Salespeople came weaving through the stadium, but the Demon Lord simply waved them by.

Producing the Item Folder from his pocket, he withdrew an elegant table he had picked out when he left the village and set it up before them. He followed up with a bottle of sparkling wine and two glasses, all of which he had taken from the casino. The Demon Lord had done this without a second thought, but his neighboring spectators couldn’t believe their eyes after seeing these items materialize from what looked to just be paper. They forgot to breathe at times, their wide eyes turned to the Demon Lord instead of the match.

“Wh-What kind of spell is that...?”

“It has to be some sort of magical item.”

“I’ve heard there are some bags that can hold more things the more magic its wearer has.”

“But he put a table in there?!”

He began to garner more attention, as his performance was far rarer than a cheap fight in the colosseum. Not that the Demon Lord paid any mind to the other spectators, but he continued to produce salami and sausages from the void, each of them popular items in the game that healed 20 HP.

Ren gingerly poured his glass of wine, and he held it to his face as if to savor the carbonation and aroma; a gesture so irrefutably kingly. It seemed the eyes of the entire audience were glued to the Demon Lord and his mysterious powers. Perhaps they had picked up that he had strength to back up the all-threatening pressure that he exuded.

“Child’s play isn’t much for entertainment...” he uttered with grandiosity.

“The next contestants are more experienced.”

“Many of them have the look of a fighter.”

The dumb play concluded and made way for fierce clashes of swords and axes, with even some Fire and Wind magic spells.

The Demon Lord watched the matches with interest, but Ren seemed to lose hers after a few fights and began paying more attention to the spectators, in part because the two of them had been garnering more attention than the action in the arena.

“We have many eyes on us, Master. Offering them fare and libations may garner their favor.”

“Not a bad idea.”

The Demon Lord pulled Food after Food from the void, with Ren transforming them into Cheesecakes and Strawberry Tarts. It was a grand spell for those around him, and the Demon Lord must have felt generous after raking in loads of SP from taking down Spades and his men.

“Courtesy of my master. Please pair them with your wine.” Ren’s otherworldly offerings were immediately well-received by the women for their cute presentation and sweet scent. Some of them timidly took their first bites.

“It’s so delicious!”

“Incredibly sweet!”

“What’s happening...? My mouth feels happy...”

Everyone from high-class ladies to glamorous women of the night exclaimed in innocent excitement, which led to their dates trying a bite as well and breaking into silly grins.

The Cheesecake was just the right amount of sweet and even healed 25 Stamina. The Strawberry Tart healed 50.

The men joined in with the ladies and began exclaiming praise for the taste and revitalizing sensation of the desserts. One of them, an elderly gentleman, even regained stamina below the belt.

“It’s alive... My monster is finally alive!”

“Darling... It’s incredible!”

“Hey, it’s hard! Old man Medopad’s hard!”

“For real?!”

Whatever was going on down in the arena mattered little to the people in the audience; excitement was now storming around the Demon Lord, spectators fighting over the cake being handed out by Ren, who seemed to be happy that her master’s items were bringing smiles to people’s faces. Even the Demon Lord watched this scene with contentment. He certainly didn’t mind people praising items of his creation left and right.

Meanwhile, in the royal booth, Jack was outraged by the blatant sabotage of his business.

“King... You bastard...!” Jack slammed his fist on the table, making the minister jump in the corner of the booth.

The minister, however, only dabbed his sweaty, pale face, not daring to say a word.

“What magic is he using...?” Jack grumbled, and understandably so. He had just witnessed someone pull out various things from a piece of paper before producing a glowing ball of light and changing the ball into food, all as if he was some street magician. At this point, Jack had confirmed his suspicion that King was able to wield bizarre magic spells.

Sipping on his glass of wine, the Demon Lord was back in spectator mode.

The emcee joined in, desperate to redirect the attention of the audience to the fighting. “Are you tired of sitting on the edge of your seat?! Are you out of breath to bate?! Then I have just the contestants for you!”

The spectators answered the emcee with thunderous excitement. Apparently, the next fight was a fan favorite.

“Let us enjoy the luxury,” the emcee continued, “of watching from safety and comfort as despicable scum battle it out!”

The spectators were now jumping to their feet in excitement as the fighters made their entrances.

“We’re bringing out the best right off the bat! A man kicked from his party for looking intimidating but ultimately being useless... Nightk Ing!”

“Winter is coming!”

“The most deadbeat-iest of deadbeats! The legendary bum who’s been kicked out of forty-three parties for spending their funds on gambling and hookers... Vegas Dad!”

“Tee hee!”

“The master of unrealistic wet dreams! A piece of crap who is routinely ejected from parties for incessant sexual harassment and stalking... Fanfik Vi Tumblr!”

“Fanfik demands it... All females will fall for me without reason!”

As the crowd went wild for the fighters, the Demon Lord muttered, “Are these all gonna be party rejects...?”

“This is a strange world, Master.”

”One couldn’t hope for much better in a party dropout! A man completely useless except for his ability to find one bronze coin a day... Lee Roy Jinkens!”

“Wow!”

“Another party firee! A man who wouldn’t simp for his stuck-up love interest and tried to be reincarnated in the countryside for a slow life with female slaves and women that are definitely over eighteen but look nine... O.P. Chadster!”

“I just wanted a quiet life...”

The Demon Lord was at a loss for words at these introductions, and even Ren had a furrowed brow. They were starting to lose track of what kind of event this was to begin with. It was starting to look more like a contest of douchebaggery than a colosseum fight.

“There’s more of them...?” the Demon Lord muttered as the anticlimactic fight began, the dropouts insulting and fruitlessly striking each other.

Ren poured the Demon Lord another glass of wine as he read ahead to the next event. “The veterans are coming out soon.” Despite the acts thus far, seasoned fighters, star adventurers, and famed bounty hunters engaged in high-level combat that tested their brains and guts.

“Now these ones are not dropouts...” the Demon Lord remarked. “Up next...” He squinted at the upcoming contestant’s name on the match card, while Ren waited quietly for him to explain. “Ren,” he said, “the next match will end in fire.”

“Such foresight before the match even begins...” Ren stared at her master, wide-eyed.

Written on the match card was “Endjoy vs Zippo.”

When Endjoy entered the arena, he spotted the Demon Lord in the front row. “Wh-What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I’m merely a spectator.”

“Heh! Then drool as you watch me win glory and fortune!” Endjoy boasted and turned to his opponent.

The Demon Lord had no real basis for his prediction, but the match did turn out as he said. Endjoy was in the lead at first but fell behind later in the match as he began to run out of Stamina. In the end, Zippo’s Fire spell lit Endjoy’s rear end on fire, his screams echoing through the arena.

“Ow! Hot, hot, hot! Water! I need water!”

Watching Endjoy roll around the arena, the spectators burst into laughter, slapping their knees. This was the perfect break from the intense combat between serious fighters.

“He’s always on fire, all right...” the Demon Lord remarked, a slice of ham in his mouth.

“Just as you predicted, Master.”

“Indeed.” The Demon Lord continued to watch Endjoy stop, drop, and roll and roll and roll, but the fire showed no sign of going out until one of the guards splashed a bucket of water on him and extracted him from the arena on a sort of gurney.

As Endjoy was being carried out, the Demon Lord quietly approached him. His rear end was reddened by the fire, smoke still sizzling from it.

“That was quite some flatulence to keep the fire going,” the Demon Lord said.

“I didn’t...! Damn it, laugh if you want to; go on, laugh!”

“Gah ha ha ha ha! Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Don’t actually do it!”

“What do you expect?”

The Demon Lord turned his back on Endjoy’s outrage and returned to his seat, checking the next event on the match card: a deathmatch between B-rank adventurers.

“Apparently the next match will continue until one of them dies, Master.

“Hm.”

The emcee announced, “To the east... Battleaxe Master Gorda!”

A mountainous man entered from the eastern gate, who seemed quite the fighter by the Demon Lord’s estimate, but less so than Mikan.

“To the west... Alverd, the Sword Flash!”

The audience reacted to the emcee with explosive cheers for both contestants, many of them eager to see their bets pay off.

“So that swordsman’s his opponent,” said the Demon Lord.

“Judging by his stance, he’s survived many battles.”

The two fighters clashed in the center of the arena, the sound of clashing metal echoing through the colosseum. As they began to warm up, their weapons flew faster.

The intense fight demanded every second of the audience’s attention, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats. While Gorda’s attacks packed more strength, Alverd was faster than him.

“What’s your guess, Ren?”

“Neither of them have shown all of their cards yet.”

True to Ren’s assessment, Gorda moved to finish the match. With repeated attacks at full swing, Alverd was blown to the edge of the arena.

“Tear him apart! Storm Impact!” The Spell Stone embedded in Gorda’s axe glowed green, conjuring a class-3 Storm spell (elevated from Wind), assaulting Alverd with a massive impact... Or so it appeared.

When the dust settled, Alverd was standing exactly where he had been as if nothing had happened.

“Thought you were just a meathead,” Alverd remarked, “didn’t expect you to have an ace up your sleeve like that.”

Gorda was lost for words at Alverd’s breezy attitude.

To be precise, a white force field had appeared around Alverd just before the spell hit and neutralized it. This was thanks to a magical item Alverd wore, which had helped him get this far.

“Let’s wrap this up, shall we? Sword Flash!”

Alverd swung his sword at incredible speed, sending Gorda’s head flying high into the air, a geyser of blood gushing from his neck.

The spectators were stunned for a moment but soon burst out into praise for Alverd’s finishing blow.

“Hell yeah! You never let us down, Alverd!”

“Thanks for the cash, Alverd!”

The Demon Lord, however, continued to quietly observe Alverd in a way that would have instilled fear in mortal men. Unfortunately for Alverd, he was too far away to notice.

“It seems he has something that protects him from magic...” The Demon Lord said.

Hearing this, Ren swiftly began gathering intel from the spectators around them. Most stories of Alverd they had to offer pertained to either his matches in the colosseum or tall-tale legends such as him defeating a devil. Some, however, knew a bit more about the contestant.

“Master, he apparently found it in a dungeon. It’s a magical item that protects him from magic of a certain caliber.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure where, but I will further investigate—”

“No need to find out where.” The Demon Lord’s eyes told of his true intentions: take it. “We’ll offer a price for it at first. He seems like the reasonable type. I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding... I’m sure of it.”

“Yes, Master. Your safety supersedes all else.”

The final bosses now had their eyes set on Alverd, but ignorance was bliss for him while it lasted.

After the deathmatch, the emcee announced a surprise event. They seemed to mix in these surprises to keep the experience fresh for the audience. The Demon Lord had scoffed at the Company when he walked in, but they were managing the colosseum quite well.

“To the west... Olivia the Muse!”

At the emcee’s call, a beautiful woman entered with a harp, drawing curiosity from the crowd as to how she was going to use the instrument as a weapon.

“To the east... A warrior from beyond the seas! Akechi Jubei Mitsuhide!”

“Huh?” the Demon Lord blurted stupidly, completely stunned by that name.

Ren watched closely as a beautiful girl entered from the eastern gate with her long black hair in a ponytail, wearing feudal-era wrist and shin guards, draped in a haori.

Akechi...? the Demon Lord wondered. Like the famous samurai? And they’re a girl?!

Meanwhile, the match began. Olivia reached for her harp and began playing masterful tunes. Her harp was no ordinary instrument, but a magical item that afflicted her enemies, its power magnified by her own magic.

“Dance to my music...” she uttered. Her music would have even affected the likes of hellbeasts, but this time she was out of luck.

Akechi had plugged both of her ears. Eliminating one’s hearing in combat might have seemed suicidal, but considering that her opponent’s weapon obviously dealt with music, it was an understandable tactic.

“Master...”

“That’s Tanegoshima.” The Demon Lord called the matchlock Akechi was holding by its nickname in Japan at the time.

The matchlock was the first firearm introduced to Japan. Firearms, of course, led to exponential deaths on the battlefield, accelerating war worldwide.

Tanegoshima was also an obtainable weapon in the game, treated as a sort of gambit weapon that had a tedious reload time and abysmal range but dealt catastrophic damage when it hit.

“She’s aiming for her right hand.”

“Looks like it.”

Blam!

A piercing gunshot rang through the arena, blasting Olivia’s right hand away from the harp. The shot would have blown the hand of an ordinary fighter clean off.

The samurai drew her katana and swung at Olivia’s neck with incredible speed. The sound of a dull impact followed, and Olivia collapsed.

“I’ll leave you with your life...” the samurai said and sheathed her katana before turning to leave the arena.

The spectators sent her off with applause and whistles. The Demon Lord and Ren, too, watched her ponytail bounce with polite applause. The spectators around them were already discussing her magic with great enthusiasm.

“Was that a Wind spell?”

“Nah... That was Fire, as far as I could tell. I saw a spark.”

“You idiots. She sent a rock flying.”

“She was totally cute, though...”

The collective audience seemed ecstatic at the birth of another fighter, who was sure to only grow in popularity with beauty that matched her strength.

“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she, Master?”

“It seems there’s another person I need to make an appointment with.” The Demon Lord knocked his wine glass back, staring at the gate she left through. His mind was surely burning with a thousand questions from the mere fact that she dressed like a samurai. Was it a coincidental fashion, or did Japan exist in this world? If it did, what time period would this Japan be in?

Judging by the matchlock, is it the feudal era...? Wait, there’s no way my Japan exists in this world. Even if there was a Japan in this world, the Demon Lord told himself, it would be a different nation than the one he lived in in another world. While he wanted to avoid conflating the two, he couldn’t get past one thing.

“Akechi Mitsuhide, huh...?” Anyone in Japan, even those without any interest in history, knew that name: the man who executed the largest coup in Japan’s history, the Honnoji incident. The one he shot with an arrow...was also dubbed “Demon Lord.”

Is it a coincidence? Or is there something else going on? The Demon Lord pondered this with what he saw at the bottom of the Bastille Dungeon on his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Akechi was some sort of agent sent against him by the Great Light, the Angels, or whoever else wanted him defeated. Akechi Mitsuhide was none other than the historical Demon Lord killer, after all. If I’m thinking in terms of the real Akechi, it’s dangerous to make an enemy or friend out of her... As a man with the title of Demon Lord, this was a natural conclusion. Try to take her in and there may be a reenactment of the Honnoji incident, this time with the Demon Lord burning along with his castle. He would have much preferred to keep any fire near him contained to Endjoy’s rear end.

As the Demon Lord was deep in thought, a fanfare rang in the arena, announcing the final match of the night. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee cried, “Here comes the grand finale! Get out your handkerchiefs now! The man who fought his way through the colosseum tooth and nail for his family back in the slums... Faces his final challenge tonight!”

The contestant entered, greeted by the audience with a standing ovation. He was well-built but terribly beaten down, fresh scars all over his body and a rag wrapped around half of his face, apparently covering a severe burn that ran onto his neck.

“For his wife and daughters who faithfully await his return, our challenger has one enormous wall to climb! Win this match and his debt will be forgiven on the spot! If he can defeat! His! Opponent!”

Beastly breathing rumbled from behind the metal bars along the wall. The spectators let out gasps and yelps, seeing that a hellbeast lurked on the other side.

“Our challenger must face the Executioner of Blue Bricks, a bloodthirsty hellbeast, Murderbros itself! Will he prevail?!”

It was a giant bipedal bull covered in black fur from head to toe. It wore a black hood and carried a monstrous club. Most parties wouldn’t survive an encounter with it, making it entirely unbelievable that the downtrodden challenger even had a chance. The spectators foresaw tragedy in the arena, but that only seemed to feed their intoxication. Half cheers, half screams filled the colosseum with eerie excitement.

“Master, he’s...”

“The father of those sisters.”

While his injuries obscured the resemblance, he was, indeed, the man in their family portrait. His daughters might have sobbed at the mere sight of their father like this.

“Master...”

“Stay where you are, Ren.”

Ren lowered her gaze as the metal bars gradually rose. The man in the arena might have seen an hourglass rapidly running out of sand.

He quietly spoke, his voice swallowed by the uproar of the crowd, “I’m coming home, honey... Kids... I’m almost there...” The shrieks of the spectators even seemed to shake the colosseum itself. Forcing one foot in front of the other, the challenger shouted, as if to defy his looming destiny, “I’m coming home!”

The instant the bars were completely raised, the hellbeast charged with a blood-curdling howl. Just as it rose its club for the kill, a red line fired from the Demon Lord to the hellbeast, splitting the air. The hellbeast exploded, every little fragment of it burning to black flames.

The mad frenzy of the colosseum was immediately extinguished, all eyes in the arena glued to the Demon Lord leisurely twirling his glass.

“That pathetic lug was the main course? This Jack is apparently an ignoramus.”

“King! What the hell are you doing?!” Jack jumped to his feet and shouted, his patience having finally run thin. He could no longer stay silent after suffering such public humiliation.

The Demon Lord, on the other hand, kept his legs crossed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what true entertainment is.”

“What...?”

“If it were me...I would have pitted that man and his family in the slums against each other.”

“You— What?!”

Of course, the Demon Lord would have only done so in one of his Games, but no one there was any the wiser. He stood from his chair and leapt into the arena with ease. He looked up at the royal booth to find the large, ogre-like man with the beet-red face. So that’s Jack, the Demon Lord thought. Causing me all of this trouble... Stop calling me King, you moron! The Demon Lord pointed at Jack, directing his pent-up frustration at the man and signaling for him to come down to the arena. He was ready to clock Jack in the face and get this over with.

“If you want to provide some quality entertainment, why don’t you come down here and do the job yourself?”

“You...” Jack gritted his teeth. He couldn’t answer the taunt, of course. If he, the don of the Company, were to lose to some mysterious grand spell, the entire rule of the Jack of All Trades would crumble to the ground.

So, Jack answered from his booth. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it, King. A true leader can’t be bothered to take on every wacko with a death wish.”

The audience gasped. The Demon Lord had already blown them away by taking out the hellbeast in a single strike, but Jack’s retort had been just as impressive, exuding class becoming of their don. Unfortunately for Jack, he had just challenged the worst man imaginable to a contest of blowing smoke.

No one could out-talk the Demon Lord in a situation like this. “I understand... Then allow me to make a proposal to poor little Jack shivering in his britches. Would you feel better fighting my secretary, rather than myself?” At his cue, Ren too leapt out of her seat, landing next to her master. As gracious and elegant as her appearance was, no one in the audience considered her a match for Jack in the arena. “So cowardly, Scaredy-Cat Jack. Don’t tell me you’re too afraid to fight this girl? If you are, you should live out your days in a tutu. In fact, I will personally gift you one, along with a set of dainty lingerie,” the Demon Lord rattled off in an excellent display of his ability to get under people’s skin. While Tahara, too, was a master of this skill, the Demon Lord was practically born to irritate his enemies.

“That motherfucker...!”

With more things recently added to his to-do list, the Demon Lord seemed eager to knock out as much as he could here and now.

“Enjoy your final days, King. You’re dead meat, and so is Gorgon.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I incinerated that troublesome cargo, ship and all. You’re lucky I’m not charging you a fee for that.”

“K-Kiiiing!” Jack roared and finally jumped down into the arena. He would not be satisfied by anything less than tearing King’s head off with his own hands.

The spectators collectively sprung to their feet, exploding in excitement. This was going to be a match no amount of money could buy a seat for.

“Ren, take him back to his family. Treat him with this.” The Demon Lord created a Bandage, the same first-aid item that once mended Harts’s severed leg, and tossed it to Ren.

“Yes, Master.”

She put a hand on the man’s shoulder, and they vanished. They had merely Quick Traveled to the family’s shack in the slums, but the disappearing act only further electrified the arena.

“Ready to die, King? Let’s end this here and now!”

“There was a man here earlier who said something similar. Had fire set on his rear end. I think you’re kindred spirits, you and him.”

“Shut your trap!” Jack closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and swung at the Demon Lord, throwing a punch heavy enough to put a dent in even the most powerful monster. The Demon Lord switched off his Assault Queller and dodged the punch with ease. Jack kept on swinging with both fists, each of them fast enough to knock the head off the shoulders of an ordinary fighter. The Demon Lord continued to dodge Jack’s strikes, doing so with the minimum amount of movement necessary.

“Good form. It seems your confidence wasn’t entirely groundless. A good model for hand-to-hand combat.”

“What do you know, you stupid mercenary?!” With a big inhale, Jack activated all of his skills at once, intending to finish the fight before the Demon Lord had the chance to cast any of his mysterious spells.

—Diamond Fist, Diamond Body, Zero to Sixty, Drum Up Courage, Numb the Pain

Jack’s Attack, Defense, and Dexterity skyrocketed as his body grew in size and his skin hardened. Additionally, he wouldn’t lose Stamina nor feel pain for a set amount of time, turning Jack into a killing machine. Jack’s blood seared in his veins, and he exhaled a scathing breath.

“It’s over, King!” He charged at the Demon Lord with such speed that Jack now perceived the world around him in slow motion; even noises from the crowd now warped. Leaving his senses behind him, Jack unleashed a devastating blow. With his first step, the multilayered, stone-paved floor beneath them shattered, his arm rocketing into the Demon Lord. A calamitous impact echoed through the air as the entire arena was covered by a fog of dust. Jack, along with everyone in the audience, imagined the Demon Lord blown to bits.

When the air cleared some, however...the Demon Lord was still standing, holding Jack’s fist in his palm with ease.

“What the...?”

“Not a bad punch, but really lacking in strength compared to the players. You thought you could play dictator when this is the best you’ve got?”

The Demon Lord raised Jack high into the air with the same hand and threw him into the metal bars. An ear-splitting crash rang through the arena, silencing the spectators.

“Take the L. As long as you stay out of our business, we won’t start anything more with you.” Despite being in the middle of combat, the Demon Lord comfortably lit his cigarette and offered a truce. This was simply a misunderstanding to him, and he had no intention of turning this into a full-on, blood-soaked war between him and the Jack of All Trades.

On the other hand, Jack pushed the metal debris off of him and slowly rose to his feet. Unlike before, his eyes now shone with a cool, collected glare. “Pretty good, King. Didn’t think you’d make me go full force...”

“Oh? Were you playing for my amusement until now?”

Jack ignored him and lit the cigar in his mouth. He stripped off his tiger-striped gown and activated the Binding carved all over his body. He was a fistfighter and lacked magic, so he chose to tattoo magic into his skin, which would shorten his life when cast. This may have been a tactic that only gladiators used, desperate to make it through the day at any cost.

“Congratulations, King. I don’t fight like this against just anybody.”

“Is that so? Keep it short, will you?”

“I’ve lived through decades of hell, right here...” Runes glowed on Jack’s arms, activating the Fire Whip Binding and imbuing his fists with Fire magic, which inflicted continuous damage to his enemies after contact. “Jeered and stoned by those rotten nobles and spectators, my life and death became a bet made on a whim...” Another set of runes glowed on his legs, triggering High Wings, the same ability that Azur once used, which drastically improved the user’s Dexterity. “I’ve killed beasts and monsters, day in and day out, and made it by the skin of my teeth...” Runes glowed on Jack’s thick pectorals, triggering Breath of Undine, which paused Stamina expenditure and restored it over time. “You will never understand what I had to go through to make it this far...” A final set of runes lit up on his back, triggering Titanic Wall, providing him with a powerful Defense against all forms of physical and magical attacks.

In addition to all of the skills Jack already activated, he now carried all four elements of magic in his flesh. His already catastrophic strength had reached the level of a fighting deity. Violent torrents of wind roared from Jack and swept through the entire colosseum, keeping the spectators quiet. “I will win. I will always win! To make it to tomorrow!” Jack sprinted so quickly that it appeared as if he had teleported, throwing his fist straight at the Demon Lord’s face.

Deflecting the fist, the Demon Lord let slip a slight frown. Hot, hot, hot!

Once on the move, Jack was unstoppable. Without fear of exhaustion, he unleashed a storm-like flurry of fists.

The Demon Lord dodged and parried these fists, much to the amazement of the spectators, but he was not having a good time. Come on, this is... It’s hot! Hot! I can’t take it anymore! He maintained a cool composure on the surface, but he was beginning to regret mocking Endjoy.

Meanwhile, Jack only seemed to accelerate, culminating in a rapid inhale before unleashing his most powerful move. “Liger Knuckle!” A calamitous punch struck the Demon Lord square in his chest, blowing him away like a leaf in the wind, slamming him against the wall of the arena. The next instant, cracks shot out from the Demon Lord along the wall, causing that portion of the arena to collapse. This was to be the coup de grâce for Jack to assert his dominance as the undisputed champion of the colosseum. “That ought to show you who’s the boss, eh, King?”

Jack’s confident smirk twisted into an expression of agony.

Sodom’s Fire had pierced Jack’s left leg. The Demon Lord had leisurely thrown the dagger as he was being blown away by the impact. Black flames erupted from the dagger, engulfing Jack and afflicting him with Burn damage. Jack screamed, unable to bear the agony.

The Demon Lord rose to his feet, dusted off his suit, and lit a cigarette. He looked as if he had not taken any damage at all. In fact, he had taken the hit on purpose to put some distance between him and Jack’s uncomfortably hot Fire Whip Binding.

“So you’re throwing a tantrum over your past, got it... How narrow-minded of you to then make other people miserable. You’ll never be good enough to rule a country, let alone anything more than a leader of brain-dead apes,” the Demon Lord verbally dunked on the fallen Jack and turned to leave.

Then a voice called from behind him. A voice that belonged to Jack but wasn’t his.

“A woeful state for my dear servant...”

“Forgive me...Master...Rookfell...”

“Accept my strength... Laugh in the face of defeat, and devour it! Become prideful!”

Jack rose as if he was called by the eerie voice coming from his own mouth. As black mist enveloped him, changing him into something monstrous down to his very bones, Jack recalled a distant memory when this grand devil had appeared in the colosseum.

Rookfell, the grand devil with the lion’s head, had been summoned—or happened to stop by on a whim—and trampled over everyone in attendance. The royal family, the fighters, the spectators, they were all torn limb from limb, their innards spilling over the ground. The select few who managed to survive the one-sided massacre were given the blood of the grand devil, not out of mercy, of course, but entertainment.

There was nary a chance that any of the survivors could withstand the blood of a grand devil, so nearly all of them writhed in slow, agonizing death, as if they had been dosed with poison. The only survivor of the transfusion was Jack.

A gag order was issued to cover up this incident and the colosseum was shut down. This was when Jack had finally gained his freedom. Once he gained power in Euritheis, Jack was also the one to reopen the colosseum, and he did so with the sole intention of inflicting the same hellish suffering that he had endured onto others. To shower this land with endless devastation.

“I never lose... The entire world will soon be mine! Fame, women, gold, glory, everything! I’ll squeeze the useless scum of this city for every last drop they’ve got!”

Jack’s skeleton had enlarged, shifting him into a liger. Unlike a Firebrand, Jack was forced to serve the grand devil and undergo metamorphosis. If one were to label him anything, he might have been categorized as a hellbeast-hybrid. A liger’s split parentage between a lion and a tiger embodied Jack’s essence perfectly.

The transformation drew screams of terror from the crowd.

“Wh-What’s going on?!”

“Jack’s a devil?!”

“R-Run! We’re going to die if we stay here!”

“No way, I’m seeing this through! This fight’s a once-in-a-lifetime event!”

The Demon Lord’s brow twitched. He sensed the presence of a level 30... A maxed-out player.

“You’ve earned the right to stand before me,” he said.

“Fool... A human stands no chance against me, the embodiment of one of the seven deadly sins: Pride.”

“Deadly sin? I took care of one of those not too long ago.”

“As if!”

Jack swung his claws at astonishing speed, which the Demon Lord parried with Sodom’s Fire. The pair maneuvered through the arena at great speed, clashing at times. All the spectators could see were sparks flying in the air.

After dodging or blocking the liger’s claws a few times, the Demon Lord wondered aloud, “Strange... You’re much weaker than Olgan’s dad. How does that work?”

“Trying to talk your way out? Tough luck.”

As the de facto dictator of Euri, Jack was privy to information of all kinds. Naturally, some of it pertained to Olgan’s father, the grand devil that embodied Sloth.

“You can run, but you can’t hide, King!” Jack barked.

Meanwhile, the Demon Lord kept muttering to himself as he parried attacks. Despite being engaged in combat, he looked like a researcher working in his lab. “I assume devils have higher base stats and stat increases in exchange for slow level progression. Humans have an easier time leveling but have lower base stats and increase rates.”

The Demon Lord’s assessment was largely correct. He and his advisors all required astronomical EXP to level up, making it easier for him to understand this system: the strong required their own set of restrictions.

Jack thrashed his claws as if he was burning out his life force in this battle, knocking the Demon Lord away. An average man would have been torn to shreds by one attack.

“From the day I was born, everyone has taken from me. Now it’s my turn to take back what I’m owed from those scum. After I crush you, King, I’ll take out the king of this country too.”

“A world built on the misfortune of others won’t last long. Sooner or later, it will be overturned.” The Demon Lord didn’t add the last phrase that was on his mind: like the Empire. Even if he had, Jack would have had no clue as to what he was talking about.

“Kill you, kill Gorgon, and the world is mine,” Jack boasted. “Everyone will feel the hell I suffered!”

“You’ve barked enough... Don’t smear your shit onto other people, you little bitch.”

Jack turned quadruped, storing up catastrophic strength.

The audience seemed to pick up on the unprecedented power in the arena, as they ran for their lives in panic.

The Demon Lord prepared to counter the attack by activating several of his skills at once.

—Fighting Spirit, Intimidate, Fake Out, Equal to None

Explosive power exuded from the Demon Lord, clashing in the air with Jack’s energy.

“This whole world is mine!” Jack bellowed. “No one can stop me!”

“Don’t you dare claim a world when all you want is cheap revenge.”

Jack charged, like a beast unchained. This attack would sunder even a powerful devil.

The Demon Lord stared Jack down and declared, “There is no room for you in my world!”

They collided in the center of the arena with a flash, followed by the roaring sound of their impact that seemed to tear the very air around them.

“How...did I...lose...?”

Jack, of course, was the one to fall. His stature shrunk, reverting to his more human form. Having lost his balance, he collapsed onto the ground, sprawled out. He gazed up at the dome ceiling of the colosseum for the first time in a long time. The sight of it signified his defeat... He had lost his tomorrow.

“I’m not...done...”

If left alone, Jack would soon draw his last breath.

The Demon Lord, a cigarette still in his mouth, calmly looked down at Jack. “If you strove for power because you hated the world as it was or hated those who made your life miserable, you should have built a country filled with happiness. That would have been the best revenge.” The Demon Lord produced a Bottle of Water, twisted the cap off, and dumped the contents onto Jack’s face. “Everyone who degraded you, mocked you, despised you... They would have all sung high praises of you and your rule. True revenge is making people like them beg for a place in your world.” The Demon Lord turned and left without a second thought.

The Water had healed Jack just enough to keep him alive, which might have been worse than death at this point.

Ren appeared beside the Demon Lord, walking with him. “Are you not going to kill him, Master?”

“The people of this country can clean up their own mess.”

“This will bring an end to the dictatorship of the Jack of All Trades.”

“Every dictator is overthrown sooner or later. For him, it happened to be today,” the Demon Lord said in a meaningful way, despite the fact that he had put no such thought into his actions. He had lashed out of pure frustration, and Jack happened to be there.

Seeing him and Ren leave without another word, the audience began talking to each other.

“What just happened...?”

“King took out Jack!”

“Wh-What’s going to happen now?”

“King’s the new don of the capital...”

“This is crazy! We have to tell everybody!”

The power structure of the capital had been turned upside down in a single night. The Demon Lord’s impulsive actions had culminated in a usurpation.

Remaining SP — 640P