Extra Episode — Ascendance of an Outcast

Core 564 was a Baphomet-type Dungeon Core that formerly belonged to the Demon King faction. He had been banished by his king, and in a twist of fate ended up the lackey of the traitor faction he had previously been at war with. On top of that, he was forced into being the Slave Core of a pitiful rabbit-type Dungeon Core named Mikan (Core 629), which meant he could be summoned away to do his bidding at the drop of a hat.

“Aha! At first I wasn’t sure how this worked out, but you sure are a hard worker, Core 564! Becoming a Dual Core was definitely the right idea!”

“Ngh, ngh, grrr! What humiliation...!”

For someone with Demon Realm values, it was unbearable to serve someone smaller and weaker than yourself. He attempted to disobey Father’s instructions and rebel against Mikan countless times. But each time, he was subjugated. Mikan being registered as his Master Core meant that his body would freeze if he tried attacking him, and if he disobeyed one of Mikan’s orders, searing pain would shoot through his body as if he was being hit by lightning.

“If only you would hurry up and move over here.”

“You fool! My stores of DP are barren due to you! My land in the Demon Realm has been confiscated, and at this point my daily DP income is a mere 500 DP! And, at the peak of foolishness, you are even saying that I can only spend 100 DP of that to save the rest for moving!”

It took significant time and resources to move a Dungeon Core. In general, one would have to slowly expand one’s Dungeon Territory while moving the actual Core along with it. Having multiple dungeons all over the place like Keima just didn’t happen unless Father’s whims led in that direction. Core 564 would appreciate some of that whimsy being directed toward moving Dungeon Cores, but he still had some lingering regrets toward the Demon Realm and the Demon King faction, so it was easy to imagine him just muttering complaints if someone brought it up to him.

“Huh? You’re not happy with a hundred DP a day? But that’s enough to eat a whole bellyful of strawberries!”

Well, it was important to understand that Mikan lived in abject DP poverty before Keima got to work on him. A hundred DP a day was, to him, quite a lavish lifestyle. Naturally, Mikan still being stuck in that mindset made Core 564 furious.

“Do not push a child’s (600 lot) values on an adult (500 lot)! Gah, enough of this! I shall work no further! Why must I till fields?! You can summon the water spears yourself! Buy the food you eat with your own DP!”

“I need to make fields of the carrots Keima gave me to get more of them! They’re top-tier carrots, and they sell surprisingly well. Almost as much as the idol goods.”

Incidentally, it was common practice in the Demon Realm to have Skeletons perform manual labor in farms, but Core 564 didn’t know that since he had ignored all that to live a life of leisure. His city had been famous as an entertainment district.

“Well, if you really insist, I don’t mind giving you a break! I’m a Beddhist now in Keima’s honor, and resting is real important in it.”

“Ah! C-Can I trust those words?! There is much I would like to do!”

“Wow, you sure jumped on that fast. Have I been working you that hard...?”

And so Core 564 got a break from work, and was sent to his dungeon territory in the Demon Realm.

“Bwahaha! There should still be enough time for me to make it!”

There was something Core 564 wished to do. In simple terms, he wanted to participate in the Hell Tournament, the biggest event in the Demon Realm. All Dungeon Cores of the Demon King faction—or in other words, all noble demons—were entered into the tournament automatically, but Core 564 had already been banished. He wouldn’t be allowed to participate. However, there was one backdoor inside.

The Fighter’s Tournament, which was held once every few years, was the key to everything. Its victor was awarded the prestigious right to participate in the Hell Tournament! Naturally, Core 564 would need to win in the Fighter’s Tournament for this to work, but it was ultimately like a weaker version of the Hell Tournament. He had enough experience in the latter that just a little exercise would be enough for an easy win.

But unfortunately, to enter the Fighter’s Tournament, one first had to win pools in the local region. One would only be given the right to enter the Hell Tournament after winning in local pools and then once again winning in the Demonic Capital’s Fighter’s Tournament, but... the entry period for those pools had already ended. By now the victors of the various regions would be in the process of gathering at the Demonic Capital.

“However! I can, in truth, still participate in the Hell Tournament! There are no flaws in my plan!”

The winners of the pools brought medals as proof of their victory to the Demon Capital. Said medal had no personal information engraved on it whatsoever. The medal itself was all that mattered, which meant that if you could steal the medal from the winner, you would be allowed to join the fray in their place! On top of that, this was officially sanctioned within the Fighter’s Tournament rules. It was founded on the principle that if one could not protect their medal, then whoever stole it was a better fit for the tournament anyway.

The pool winners could hire guards, or they could boldly face the challengers themselves. They were even allowed to hide and travel to the Demon Realm in secret. But no cowards like that lived in the Demon Realm. This was a country of warriors who loved big and bloody battles. What’s the point of the pools, then? Obviously, to establish who gets attacked and who gets to do the attacking.

With that established, Core 564 attacked a boldly-waiting pool winner at a nearby tavern, and easily succeeded in taking his medal to earn participation in the Fighter’s Tournament. But he couldn’t let his identity be revealed, so he called himself the Nameless Swordsman, an expert in Demon King style.

＊ ＊ ＊

And then he lost in the tournament.

“Ngggh...! To think that Wataru the Hero himself would be participating...”

Wataru the Hero had joined the Fighter’s Tournament as a guest from the Laverio Empire. That said, Core 564 didn’t lose to him. He lost to Asura—a three-meter-tall, six-armed Giant Arachnoid that fought with both bows and swords. She was the daughter of a Giant and an Arachnoid. With her array of weaponry it felt like fighting three people at once. She was strong enough that she could potentially reach the third fight of even the Hell Tournament, depending on the matchups.

Unfortunately, she lost in her next fight to Wataru, and ultimately the Fighter’s Tournament ended with Wataru’s victory.

“However, if I had not worn Asura down, it no doubt would have been a closer fight. That means my fight with Asura was the true grand finals! Ahahaha... haaah.”

As an aside, victors of battle were healed of their exhaustion and sent to their next fight in peak condition, on the Great Demon King’s honor. The healer who looked after Asura and Wataru could guarantee that they had indeed fought at the peak of their strength.

“...The silver lining in this disaster is that due to the perfection of my disguise, nobody knows that I lost in the Fighter’s Tournament before even getting an opportunity to reach the Hell Tournament.”

And so Core 564’s last road to the Hell Tournament came to a subdued close. His plans had been so filled with the Hell Tournament that he decided to just spend the remainder of his break sleeping or something.

“Sigh. Perhaps I should begin a journey...”

The Hell Tournament came to a close, but Core 564 was still just sleeping. Mikan was still busy with his own stuff, so he had sent word that Core 564 could extend his break a bit. Core 564 replied that if he was that busy, maybe he should help, but Mikan faltered and replied that it wasn’t that kind of business. It felt like Mikan’s dungeon just didn’t have a place for Core 564.

＊ ＊ ＊

A lot happened after that, with the end result being Keima calling Core 564 over. He could have just sent word given that they were both in the Demon Realm and well within walking distance, but instead he went through the efforts of faking a Dungeon Battle to get a portal between them.

“I see, you wish to borrow my power. And if I were to refuse?”

“Mikan, give him an order.”

“Core 564, you have to obey them!”

Intense pain shot through Core 564, making him agonize with pain like electricity was shooting through him.

“Nghaaaaah! I understand, I understand! So, what do you wish for me to do?” It turned out that he wanted Core 564 to help him fight Core 50, the star of the Demon Realm. “Hm...? Duel Core 50?! I see! The truth is, I am quite the fan of Core 50, and in fact I adopted this manner of speech out of admiration for him. I eve—”

“Let me just stop you right there. It sounds like you’re about to rant, and I really don’t care.”

Keima proceeded to explain to Core 50 the strategy he wanted him to help in.

“When I take you out of {Storage}, I want you to hit him with this wooden sword as quickly as you can.”

“Come again? I have my own Magic Blade, you know,” Core 564 began, but Keima opened up {Storage} without giving him any time to protest. “And, ah, wait, you can put sentient things in {Storage}? That is news to me...”

He was thrust into a pitch-black page, so dark that even closing one’s eyes seemed to be brighter somehow.

—...I can see nothing!— he yelled, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice. What in the world?

—Keima! Let me out of here!— he yelled again, but he still couldn’t hear anything. It was unlikely that he could be heard outside of {Storage} either. In which case, he was stuck there forever, until Keima decided to take him out. What a cruel thing to do.

...It was kinda scary, too. But Cores didn’t need to use the bathroom or anything, and without performing intense exercise he wouldn’t need oxygen either. He kept repeating to himself that he wouldn’t die here.

...If he had known this would happen, he would have taken Demon King style more seriously and mastered the art of not breathing, as well as the techniques to clean one’s heart of fear. Core 564 was awash with regret.

He could at least still feel his hands and legs, so he groped around for stuff... and found something woody. What was it? He felt it further and found that it was a wooden blade other than the one he had been given. It was probably a spare. Further investigation revealed several more, so he decided to just go ahead and hold one in his right hand. He was left-handed, by the way.

He stepped in something squishy. It was some kind of bread roll. He couldn’t recognize the smell, but that’s what it felt like. He took an experimental bite and tasted the flavor of sweet wheat. It was freshly baked.

There was a round orb as well. Core 564 stroked it and found it familiar. Apparently it was a Dummy Core. Two, actually. What was the point in storing Dummy Cores here instead of in the dungeon? Either way, Core 564 found a possible avenue of escape and pushed his hand against the orbs in hopes of going inside, only for his wooden sword to be sucked inside. It just disappeared out of his hands. What was the meaning of that? Either way, he didn’t sweat it since there were still other wooden swords. The one he had been given was just inside the Dummy Core now.

Core 564, enjoying himself, investigated further. He waved a hand around, only to feel a stabbing pain.

—Ngh! What’s stabbing me?! That hurts!—

It seemed he had touched some kind of sharp blade. One wrong move and he would have cut off his entire finger. And no matter how loud he wailed, he still couldn’t hear himself. Core 564 gave up his exploring, now knowing that there were dangerous things in this {Storage}.

Core 564 carefully sat down in a safe-seeming place. It felt kind of like he had returned to where he had initially been placed. {Storage} didn’t provide that wide of a space anyway. If he tried laying down to rest, he would hit all sorts of dangerous things.

His grasp of time started to weaken before long. There was no light, no sound, and no smells. He could feel and taste, however, so he stroked the Dummy Core and nommed on the bread roll to keep himself sane.

＊ ＊ ＊

With nothing else to do, Core 564 focused on visualizing the moment he struck Core 50 to prepare himself. If he came out like this, he would swing to the left. If he instead came out like so, he would stab forward. He felt his senses get honed amid the dark, cramped, silent space. Indeed. It felt as if something was building up deep within his nose.

—Wait, no! I’m not crying! I’m not!—

He had already lost all sense of time. It felt as if only an hour had passed since he entered this place, but at the same time it felt as if he had spent an entire year there. Neither option was better than the other. They were both terrible. If only an hour had passed, he would be stuck here for seventy times as long as he already had been. If a year had passed, it was likely he had been forgotten entirely, and he would spend the rest of eternity in this darkness.

Hopefully it was just the third day already.

And that was when some light shone in the space-time. He felt himself being pulled out—it was time. Core 564 stood up, his chest full of purpose.

It had been so long since he had last seen light that it hurt his eyes. It was all he could do to just thrust his sword as fast as possible. Clink.

He opened his eyes and saw that the sword in his left hand had hit Core 50’s left foot.

“Bwaahaaaah! Did you see that, Keima?! I did iiiiiiiit!” The roars of a Baphomet echoed throughout the dungeon.

And so, Core 564 accomplished the incredible feat of landing a blow on Core 50. He looked toward Keima smugly, seeking approval, but Keima looked just as shocked as anyone.

“Hold it! Why are you surprised too?! Don’t tell me you forgot I was in there!” Core 564 yelled. He forgave Keima since he praised him for his efforts later.

Moving on. Core 564 didn’t accomplish much after that, but even so, he was one of the three people out of the entire crowd of challengers that struck Core 50. Despite being an outcast, he received Core 50’s praise and was invited to his dinner table as a guest.

“Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve had steak udon! And this is Flame Hydra meat, my favorite! I feel my power swelling!”

Steak and udon were both beloved by all Demon Realm citizens. Not to mention, Core 50 was an excellent host that allowed his guests as many servings as they would like.

“I shall eat until my stomach bursts! Nom nom, nom nom... More! I ask for seco—”

His vision suddenly shifted. In the blink of an eye, a familiar orange rabbit was standing in front of him.

“Oh, there you are. Sheesh, your job for Keima finished yesterday, didn’t it? How long are you planning on slacking off? Well, anyway! I finally have some work for you!”

Core 564, in all his wisdom, instantly figured out what had happened.

“...MY STEAK UDOOOOON!”

His wails echoed throughout the rabbit paradise. It was a scream of the soul that would later be used as a warning signal for when the upcoming raid event had mini boss monsters in them.