Prologue

Looking up, Diablo made out the twinkling of the stars between the foliage overhead. Surrounded by the chirping of insects, Diablo looked down at the ground from the peak of the high tree. There was nothing in sight, as if a bottomless pit had spread out beneath him.

The elves were graced with night vision, and didn’t use fire to illuminate darkness. On top of that, the people of this world went to sleep when the sun set, and awakened at the rise of dawn. Diablo had gotten used to living by that rhythm, and was already feeling sleepy.

Looks like this world’s making me lead a healthier lifestyle...

In his original world, online games made up the entirety of Diablo’s life. Cross Reverie had player vs. player gameplay, so many among its player base spent nights competing and trying to get stronger (though this wasn’t relevant for Diablo as his lack of interpersonal skills meant he never participated in things that required cooperation). Back then, Diablo would fall asleep just before the crack of dawn and wake up in the afternoon.

The sound of footsteps rustling against the leaves snapped Diablo out of his thoughts. He was met with an orc-faced elf.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

Diablo had become king of the elves, the new ruler of the Kingdom of Greenwood. He’d always presented himself as a Demon Lord, but to actually lord over the elves was a...peculiar thing, to say the least.

The tree Diablo was standing on right now was the residence of the royal family, and the pig-faced elf who spoke was Drango. While his appearance may have been distinctly orc-like, Drango was quite adept with economics and politics, and a decent warrior as well. He did have some peculiar tendencies, but that was neither here nor there.

“A fine job today, Your Majesty.”

“Hmph...” Diablo nodded with a haughty expression.

Diablo was bad when it came to talking to people, and if he attempted to respond as his true self, he’d find himself choking on his words. What if he angered the other side? What if he disappointed someone, or was made a laughingstock of? The anxiety paralyzed him.

Instead, he acted out the image of the character he played in-game. The Demon Lord Diablo was in fact a timid, socially-inept man incapable of communicating.

“The meeting lasted longer than expected, until such a late hour. Forgive me, My Lord.” Drango lowered his head apologetically. “Small as we may be, we are still a country, and we must ensure the people all agree with your ascension.”

How exactly do I reply to that?

How was a Demon Lord supposed to respond to appreciation? He should be proud and overwhelming; a presence that struck fear in the hearts of others.

But Diablo realized the elves were terribly confused by this menacing situation, so he wished to appear cooperative. The most he could do was fight the enemy, so he parted his lips with the intention of presenting that aspect of himself.

“I will annihilate them all.”

“N-No!” Drango said in a flustered panic. “The people are all pleased with your coronation, and accept you with awe and trust! I apologize if my words have offended you, Your Highness!”

“...Hmm?” Diablo didn’t expect Drango to act this frightened. He thought Drango would seem encouraged or think he was dependable.

“Your Majesty, was what those Fallen said this afternoon really true?” Drango changed the subject.

“Hmph... I doubt it. Merely their strength was no lie.”

“So the Demon Overlord Modinaram...truly has awakened.”

Diablo knew Modinaram’s name from Cross Reverie where it appeared as the “Demon Lord of Madness,” a boss in a time-limited event during Golden Week. In the game, it utilized both a spear and magic to deal damage, and its stats were abnormally high. However, it would commit all sorts of odd, illogical actions during battle, like buffing its opponents or debuffing itself. As such, even low-level players had a lucky chance of beating it. Conversely, higher-leveled players had a chance of losing.

In response, the players complained to no end. Posts like, “This is too RNG dependent,” “Keep your gacha out of the boss battles,” and, “The admins are the mad ones here,” filled up the message boards. But the boss did drop a very rare item, so for all their complaints, the majority of players participated in the event, Diablo included of course.

I doubt he’s the same as the one in the game though.

Modinaram never called itself a Demon Overlord in Cross Reverie, and didn’t absorb the other Demon Lords either. This one was completely different, so it would probably be best to consider him an unknown boss monster and not even try to rely on knowledge from the game.

“Was Modinaram after the Demon Lord of the Heart, Kardia, that was sealed in these lands?”

“Yes, though I’m sad to say they managed to steal it away... There is no end to the shame.”

“Hmph... I need only defeat it. That weakling can consume as many of its fellow underlings as it wishes, it will not change what it is. I am the true Demon Lord, and I will roast it to ash!”

Can I really beat it though?

Diablo spoke confidently, trying to keep with his Demon Lord role play. But his senses as a gamer warned him clearly.

The way I am right now, it would be difficult.

Fighting a level’s mooks often gave one a glimpse into how strong its boss would be, and Diablo didn’t think he would win for certain.

But Drango’s expression, who didn’t know what was going through Diablo’s mind, slackened in relief. “It’s so encouraging to have you as our king, Your Majesty.”

“Hmph... I’ll take care of everything.”

“It seems God has acknowledged your coronation as well. The withering trees are regaining their vigor and producing larger fruit already.”

Drango pointed as if to demonstrate, but Diablo couldn’t see anything in the dark. Even if there were light out, Diablo wouldn’t be able to discern those sorts of changes in the forest’s flora.

“God, you say...”

“I’m sure you have His blessing. Some had their doubts at first since we’ve never crowned someone who isn’t an elf, but it seems there was no cause for concern.”

“It’s odd.”

“What are you referring to, My Liege?”

“You say this forest keeps giving you its blessings for as long as the country has a king, correct?”

“Yes, that is because of our oath with God.”

“At first I thought it was merely that a country goes into decline without a ruler, but you say the trees are actually reviving and bearing fruit.”

“Yes, without a doubt.”

“And in this world, priests are capable of performing ‘healing miracles of God,’ which can even restore lost limbs.”

“That would be a miracle of particularly high degree, I believe.”

“Very recently...I was in the capital, where I fought against the church. The current High Priest’s faith is true and honest. She was willing to offer her life up to God.”

“I would expect no less from a person of such standing.”

“But even as assassins turned their blades on her, when a deadly curse tormented her, or when she sat imprisoned, God did not reach out to save her.”

“What?! Such things happened to the High Priest...?”

“Does God truly exist in this world?”

“...God does exist,” Drango said after a pause. “But the mortal races cannot comprehend his intentions and ways... At least, that is what I believe.”

“Hmph.”

Drango’s words reminded Diablo of what Lumachina would say. And while he was far from convinced, all he could do was accept those words for now.

The two exchanged words for a while longer...

†

Eventually, Drango said, “It’s time for the first night... Princess Shera...pardon. Queen Shera is awaiting you.”

“F-First night...?”

“The people are looking forward to seeing an heir.”

The elven kingdom flourished so long as it had a king, so the people naturally wanted to see an heir as well. With two princes dead and their king recently having passed away, Shera was the last remaining bearer of the royal bloodline.

“Oh, the royal bedchambers are just beyond that branch.” Drango pointed toward the forest. “They’re on the third tree from this one. The mother queen has already moved out of the room, so you can make yourself at home there.”

“R-Right.”

“I’ll take my leave then, My Liege. Do be gentle. I’m sure you’ve already consummated your relationship by now, so you must be used to it however.”

Drango definitely had the wrong idea about Diablo and Shera’s relationship, though there were a few times he’d touched her body on accident...

Put simply, Diablo had no experience whatsoever when it came to this. A grand total of zero experience points when it came to...bedtime etiquette.

Rem and Rafflesia were already fast asleep in the guest house. Rose, who’d lost her right arm in battle, was resting on a maintenance dock in the Demon Lord’s Labyrinth.

Diablo turned his gaze to the forest’s branches and saw a faint light flickering in the night’s gloom. The elves had no need for illumination, which meant those lights were meant for him, to guide his way to her...

The first night? Seriously?!

“No, no, no... It’s way too early for me to be having kids... I’m not emotionally prepared for this...”

Forgetting his Demon Lord persona, Diablo turned his back.

But I’m a king, and Shera’s my queen, so this isn’t actually all that early... If nothing else, the elves want this, and Shera realizes what this means...

Diablo swallowed nervously and began walking toward the luminescent light.

“...Well, it is Shera we’re talking about here. She’s probably fast asleep by now... Yeah, I can see it already...”

The branch was magically illuminated, and the room was covered by vines extending in a half-globe, shielding it from peering eyes. Inside, the bed was made of grass and leaves stacked together. Shera sat on it, clad in a wedding gown, wearing a nervous expression.

She’s still awake...