The territory of the Demon Realm, deep within the gateway between the Netherworld and the Human World, houses the Demon Lord's Fortress. It is a place of constant bloodshed, where battles for supremacy never cease. At its peak, everyone within its borders was overwhelmed by its power. The leader of all demons, Tai Walpurgis, was the strongest. He earned the title by shaking the skies and the earth with a single punch, transforming terrains into desolate wastelands.

Demons shivered at his presence. Even humans and monsters had no choice but to negotiate a peace pact. Tai Walpurgis was indeed the Greatest under the Heavens. 

He was the Demon Lord.

However, despite his strength, Tai Walpurgis was now afflicted with a vitality-draining illness after the last war against monsters and humans. Demonic doctors tried various medicines and herbs, but nothing worked. Even the Lazarus Pit could only delay the illness.

As days passed, his condition worsened. His tanned complexion grew pale, and his strength waned. The two proud curved horns were broken in half, and his hair turned whitish.

“It seems hopeless,” Basteilla, a single-horned demon, and the realm's most skilled healer, shook his head.

“Are you saying the Demon Lord is now just a name?” Vanstrilla, the three-horned strategist and the closest to the Demon Lord, snapped. His voice resonated with demonic energy, shaking the chamber. Rage and regret filled his tone.

Basteilla's body shook in terror from the pressure. He was terrified, but some things were impossible, even for the Demon Lord.

“I apologize… I’ll do anything to repay my incompetence with my life.” Basteilla bowed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Damn it!” Vanstrilla clenched his fist so tightly that blood beaded from his palm. His face twisted in despair. Tai Walpurgis couldn’t die like this. If his death became known, chaos would ensue in both the human and monster realms. The peace pact between the three realms would be broken.

A future filled with death, sorrow, and despair lay ahead.

Tai Walpurgis, whom they thought had died, lay in the air, listening to them.

[It wasn’t the Divine Healer’s fault…]

At least not technically. Tai lay on the bed, emaciated like a corpse. Surprisingly, he was also ‘clearly’ floating in the air. Even more surprising, the two individuals concerned about him couldn’t see or hear him.

Were Tai Walpurgis two entities? No, it was more like he was in a state of astral projection. The reason for this state was unknown, but he hypothesized it was because he was already the strongest. It was just a guess.

What he knew was that he woke up like this a few days ago after his last Lazarus Pit bath, which yielded no result. Flicking a speck of imaginary dust off his fingertip, boredom weighed over him. Tai used his hands as a pillow and floated in mid-air.

Since astral projecting, he couldn’t do anything. If he could do something other than float around, he wouldn’t be so bored. It would have been okay if he could leave the Demon Lord’s Chamber, but for some reason, he couldn’t—not even to return to his physical body. 

It was more irritating that he couldn’t sleep either; everything—eating, fighting, or even taking a stroll—was impossible. Why was he having such a miserable experience in his final days? At the age of a thousand and seventy-five, he had lived an incredibly long life for a demon. About a thousand years ago, Tai was only a Demon Lord’s candidate among others training in the Netherworld cave. It felt like just yesterday.

[Argh! This is so annoying.]

Fumbling about, Tai abruptly landed on his feet. At first, stepping on the floor was impossible, but after some practice in preventing his feet from penetrating the floor, it became natural. He had mastered moving with his soul as though flying due to the lack of anything else to do. He walked toward his physical body. Unlike his previous elegant and handsomely crafted jade-like form, now it was nothing but a withered husk of his former glory.

—just a name, huh? Seeing the decrepit state of his body, he understood why the Demonic Elders looked so serious. Without the Demon Lord’s consciousness and prowess, that sacred title was nothing but a weightless name anyone could claim. If he was going to die, he’d better die quickly. Right?

Ugh! 

Tai rubbed his forehead in frustration. He walked toward the window. He wanted to relieve his frustration by looking down at the whole of the sacred demon realm. Just as he reached for the window—or rather slipped through—a resonance exploded within the spirit world.

Huh?

It was the sound of something crashing from the skies into the ceiling. Others didn’t seem to hear or sense it, as they maintained their serious expressions. Did he perhaps hear it wrong? He turned back toward the windows. Again, the sound grew louder and the pressure increased as well. Tai frowned, his spiritual heart racing as he turned his attention to the ceiling. Damn it, he cursed, determined to figure out what in hell was going on.

Then, something surreal happened. Even Tai Walpurgis, with his thousand years as the Demon Lord, hadn’t witnessed something as bizarre as this.

What… the hell?

He was aghast at the massive force pulling his soul-like form from the ceiling. Tai clenched his fist. Who was he? He was the Demon Lord, the supreme leader of the Demon Realm. He wasn’t just going to let himself be taken by some unknown force. He mustered all of his demonic energy—at least, he tried to.

As though slapping him with a reality check of who was boss around here, the space warped around him, and thousands of eerie, writhing black tentacles and soulless hands enveloped his body from all directions. He tried to resist somehow. He refused to be humiliated like this. However, all his struggles were meaningless as it was impossible to muster his full strength in his astral form.

Fuck, he involuntarily cursed, feeling like pulling all his demonic hair out.

Desperately, Tai looked at his physical body and clung to a string of luck. Perhaps, just maybe... He reached out his hand.

Again, no matter how strong one is, some things are just meant to be unreachable. The unknown force suffocated his soul and, before he knew it, Tai Walpurgis, the Demon Lord, was sucked into a warped space and vanished into nothingness.

— — — — —

Chilling. It’s so cold. The damp, musty air of the underground cave fills the ten-year-old girl’s lungs. In this enclosed space, the only light comes from glowing gems scattered across the walls and two torches illuminating the firmly shut grave door. This cellar, almost perfectly sealed off from the outside world, reeks of the blood spilled by sacrifices, often called offerings.

“小さな水流が弱い時、細く浅い小川が合流して大きな流れを作ります。それから川になり、....” 

A scream of agony pierced the air, cut short by an ancient chant. Blood splattered. A lifeless body fell to the ground. 

“… やがて海に至ります。このようにして、弱い泉が多くの存在から一つの圧倒的な存在へと生命をもたらすことができるのです。”

That should make thirteen… or fourteen. The little girl had lost track of the number of diced bodies, so she couldn’t be sure. Effortlessly slashing yet another victim with the same chant, the two-horned Elder Demon slowly prostrated himself on the ground. He kowtowed in front of a blood pentagram-inscribed circle with utmost reverence, his movements deliberate and ritualistic.

Lunatic. Or rather, fanatic. Delilah knew what this bastard was trying to do. Resurrecting the Demon Lord who had been dead for over a century—what else could one call it but madness?

She wanted to move, even if only out of fear and terror of this crazed behavior. But the thick iron chains binding her were too perfect, her nimble hands held fast. Letting out a deep breath, she shivered from the cold walls. Her struggles were meaningless. For four years, it had been the same, trapped in this roasting place. They had done all sorts of bizarre and painful things to her body—forcing her to eat demons, drink their blood, and integrate their flesh into her—without giving her a single chance to protest or escape.

As she half-heartedly and irritably watched their grotesque ritual, a chill wind stirred in the cave that should have been airtight. The wind flickered the torches by the entrance before eventually extinguishing them.

Wind? 

Was it some kind of signal? Delilah's curiosity was piqued.

The demon, who had been silently conducting the ritual, suddenly stopped. He picked up the battered sashimi knife and approached her.

—It seems her premonition seems accurate. The demon’s eyes were glowing with a seductive expression.

She nervously swallowed dry spit—

Gulp! 

—this… doesn’t feel good.

His grotesque, meaty palm grazed her delicate forehead, while the battered knife pressed menacingly against her neck. Cold sweat began to bead on her cheek. 

A blinding light flashed, blurring her vision. Blood gushed from her gut, staining her white oversized gown. The world spun, her senses reeling. Then, darkness enveloped her.

Only as she felt her fuzzy eyes flutter open, and saw blood rushing down from the glowing stone altar where she lay, did she realize—

—she was dying.

Her heartbeat slowed to a sluggish rhythm, each thud echoing her fading vitality. Her lungs fought desperately for air as if clinging to the last vestiges of life. 

— — — — —

“What on earth is…?”

“Could it be that the ritual failed?”

“No way! It couldn’t be!”

The grotesque demons, adorned in diverse cultural attire, completed the ritual and unshackled her. The test subject, drenched in her  blood, remained unconscious. 

The acting leader, two-horned demon Boam, and the First Elder, a one-horned demon, exchanged bewildered glances, clearly taken aback by this unexpected outcome.

“The spirit ‘definitely’ descended. We severed her consciousness at the right moment. You saw it too, First Elder,” Boam insisted.

“Well… it did seem that way.”

“The ritual succeeded, at least up to the point of summoning the spirit.”

While the two conferred, another voice joined their conversation.

“...Supreme Strategist?” Both the First Elder and acting leader turned to face the newcomer.

The three-horned demon, known as the Brain of the Demon Realm, had been scrutinizing the aura around the test subject. He continued with a serious expression. “For a moment, the test subject’s aura trembled. It fluctuated beyond a threshold that could be called a berserk of energy. Her body must have sensed and resonated with his presence.”

“Then why hasn’t she awakened?” the acting leader asked.

“Perhaps the ritual succeeded, but the spirit hasn’t yet fully taken over the body. No matter how well-prepared, it’s still a completely different body from when he was alive a thousand years ago,” the Supreme Strategist explained.

“But during previous rituals, we never had this reaction,” the First Elder noted.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. This forbidden demonic spell has been banned since the First Demon Lord. Even if the ritual succeeds, there’s no guarantee the outcome will always be the same.”

“I was short-sighted,” the First Elder admitted, bowing his head in acknowledgment.

Boam asked cautiously, “What should we do now?”

“First, rebind her as before and move her to the Southern Dungeon,” the Supreme Strategist directed.

“What? But…!” Boam hesitated, worried about the consequences if the Demon Lord had truly reincarnated into that girl and found herself imprisoned. Whoever ordered such confinement would be instantly executed.

Sensing his concern, the Supreme Strategist reassured him, “Fret not. It’s a preventive measure. Even if the spirit summoning succeeded, we can’t guarantee the final result. The Demon Lord might be furious when he awakens, but we can’t afford any unexpected variables right now.”

As always, it was a well-calculated move that even the Demon Lord would understand.

“Understood!” Boam acknowledged the suggestion and instructed the First Elder. “Relay these orders to the summoners.”

“By your command.” The First Elder bowed deeply and exited.

— — — — —

Delilah felt nauseous. She wanted to vomit; her stomach churned. Her blood felt cold, and her body didn’t feel like hers. This felt—

—just like back then. When she was possessed by a ghost with an overwhelming presence and sinister intentions. It caused havoc in her home. They brought renowned exorcists and crusaders, but it was hard to expel a ghost of such high rank. 

Eventually, they gave up and decided to cast her out of the village. Her parents were terrified, so it was easier to cast her out. She ended up kidnapped by demons.

But why did she suddenly feel that chill again? Delilah mused. Just as she was about to assess her inner mind, a sinister voice interrupted her thoughts. She gasped and snapped her eyes open.

[Who are you?]

Ignoring the question, the first thing she saw was the familiar gray stalactites and the two glowing gems scattered about, acting as the only light in this cave.

Dungeon? she briefly thought. Nothing else could explain this mysterious place. It was different from the previous one she had been in. It was also the niche where she had previously been held when she was once caught. As her nimble hands and feet tried to stretch against stiffness, she realized the iron shackles on her limbs.

Why is she here?

A lot of people died before her very eyes as offerings for a ritual, and so did she. Ritual? Right? Recalling the dreadful ritual and how her demise was eerily horrible, her blood began to boil—but how was she still alive?

Could it all perhaps be a dream?

“... Ha.”

Frosty breath escaped her lips as the chilling wind from somewhere between the walls brushed across her skin. She noted she was alive and well—it couldn't be a dream, even if she wanted to think so.

After all, it was far too vivid. So, she died, yet right now, she was still alive. How ridiculous is that? A dry, parched laugh escaped her rigid lips.

Of course, she previously thought dying would be better, but after experiencing death firsthand—such a lonely, desolate, dark, cold place with nothing but despair, terror, and sorrow—Delilah was relieved to be alive.

As she laughed at the unfathomable incident she just experienced, an unexpected voice interrupted again.

[Who would have expected such a little girl like yourself could comprehend death and remain sane? Very interesting. Hehehe.]

Silence pervaded the dungeon as a chill ran up her spine. Her hand nervously turned slowly in the direction of the voice.

In the right corner she laid, where no one should be, Delilah saw the shadow of a man in a suit chuckling, his shoulders shaking with elegance.

Who is he? She was eerily curious as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Late thirties? Extremely handsome, tanned, with two curved horns and a sinister smile that could send chills to anyone nearby. His suit had red-black embroidery symbolizing the superiority and authority of a Royal Demon. He also looked quite free-spirited and unburdened, unlike her.

Judging by his appearance, he was likely a normal royal demon, but she didn’t sense their typical sinister energy from him.

As she blankly stared at him, the demon noticed her gaze and stopped laughing, clearing his throat.

[Ahem… I apologize. I didn’t expect such a foolish reaction from you even after comprehending death.]

… Isn’t it rude to say that to a beautiful lady you just met?

[You’re only ten though?]

Shut up! Half amused and pissed, she gazed up at him while he examined her with a curious smile.

[Hahaha! Such an amusing thing. Luckily, you can see me. I was worried it’d be boring if you couldn’t.]

… Boring? Is this guy her new jailer? Despite her growing confusion and suspicion, the demon spoke calmly.

[I have many questions… But first, who are you?]

… Should he be asking that? After four years of mysterious torture and hell, his question felt strange. Delilah wanted to tell him she had no name to give, but his respectful approach made her answer.

“... Delilah.”

Her name felt foreign, having been discarded by her family and village. She infrequently used it ever since. Wandering from one slum and alley to another, she was captured by demons because she had been possessed by a high-class spirit and survived. She had been known as the ‘Test Subject’ or ‘Vessel.’

Remembering all these things again and again, a spiteful and bitter smile appeared on her face. “No one’s asked about me in four years. What’s with the sudden interest from a demon? Are you perhaps falling for me?”

[Ha, falling for you? Such an amusing little girl. Not that. Didn’t you people summon me here?]

“...Summon?”

… Wait? Was that ritual ‘actually’ real? As her face changed, the demon tilted his head, puzzled.

[What’s that reaction? Do you know nothing?]

Silence pervaded the dungeon as Delilah gathered her thoughts that had drifted away.

[Good grief… Just a ‘vessel’, huh? Only an idiot would use a possessed body under a lost discarded Lazarus spell to summon me.]

The demon muttered about wanting to see the fool who chose this kind of ‘vessel.’

Still too carried away discerning her current situation to care about his predicament, Delilah thought, Demon Lord?

Unfortunately, yes. The legendary monstrosity from a thousand years ago? Why does he seem so unimposing? If he’s ‘really’ the Demon Lord, he wouldn’t be waving his tanned hand in front of her—

“What?”

[Oh, you’re still conscious? I thought your tender soul might have dissipated.]

… Who’s this ghost trying to possess?

[I’m not a ghost. I’m the Demon Lord, Tai Walpurgis.]

Yeah, right. He ‘definitely’ is, right. Delilah felt like pulling her unkempt raven hair out and hiding in a hole. Normally, she thought his current actions made her think even more that the ritual failed.

… It failed.

That’s all Delilah could think of. If it hadn’t, she wouldn’t be here like this. Right, the Demon Lord would kick out both her soul and the possessed spirit in her body.

“What are you?” Delilah asked.

[Hmm? A Demon Lord!]

“You don’t seem like the Demon Lord they wanted. What are you ‘really’?”

As her question mirrored her earlier one, a peculiar smile spread on his face while he stylishly dusted his suit.

[Well… I don’t know why you think I’m not, but many called me ‘Demon Lord’ in my time.]

“Really? But are you ‘actually’ the Demon Lord?” Delilah insisted, repeating the question.

[Yes. Though others might have been ‘Demon Lords’] He also implied why that wasn’t just a mere name but a suffocating title that could make millions tremble on their feet. Then his words trailed off. [Wait. How dare you address me so rudely, you brat?]

Just as he snapped angrily, footsteps and clicking chains were heard outside the dungeon.

Soon, the heavy iron door creaked open, and the dimly lit cell brightened with fire torches.

Three demons with peculiar horns and different levels of authority entered.

Who are they? Delilah was curious. The first was her usual jailer, followed by a two-horned elder who oversaw the ritual, and a more elegant-looking elder she hadn’t seen before. She knew he must be part of the higher-ups in the hierarchy.

In other words, their visit meant only one thing. They were here to confirm the condition of the ritual. Either it failed, or perhaps it succeeded.

Panicking inwardly and swallowing another round of spit, Delilah put on a nonchalant look as she watched them.

The two-horned elder who had sliced her gut previously bowed deeply, while the elegant-looking elder kowtowed with all his devotion.

“Congratulations on the Demon Lord’s descent. I am Gnornthail Maggdra, the Supreme Strategist of the Demon Realm.”

… huh? Wait? Delilah was dumbfounded. Do they think the ritual ‘actually’ succeeded?

Not that it failed? Could she be mistaken about their words?

No… Hold on. Her thoughts trailed off. So they think she is the Demon Lord?

Haha… Just what does she do now?

Asking for a friend?