259 I'm scared of the Demon King.

I decided to relay the teachings of the Divine Word Sect to the Demon King.

Technically, I should have reported this beforehand—but honestly, I forgot.

No choice.

I've been acting on my own for so long.

Still, this time the opponent is the greatest force among humanity. Not like before, where I could just fail and still manage to recover.

If negotiations go wrong, I won't be able to cover for it alone.

I suppose I could handle it—but I'd just eliminate any interfering party. That's how it is.

But if I do that, humanity will suffer greatly.

And if that happens, the Black Side will snap.

I don't want to get yelled at.

So, I'll leave the fallout from failure entirely to the Demon King.

It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

Just means more opposition from humanity.

Push forward. Push forward.

You can do it!

Yeah.

Either success or failure, I suffer no consequence.

Shiro.

Only the Demon King's stomach lining will diminish.

Thus, I came to the Demon King's chamber—but timing was poor.

Just before I entered, someone else had already arrived at the Demon King's room.

Upon entering without knocking, I found the Demon King lounging with feet on the desk, and two figures standing rigidly before him.

Bart is not here.

He's undoubtedly being made to run errands again.

"Ah, Shiro, perfect timing. Come in."

I enter the room at the Demon King's gesture.

Tch. I should've delayed if someone else was present.

No chance to retreat—called by the Demon King.

Reluctantly, I walk to the side of the Demon King.

"Listen to this together."

I don't understand the circumstances. Understood.

Then, let us hear the report.

The Demon King spoke with a smile.

Hm?

Seems displeased, somehow?

The expressions of the two figures were rigid, as if sensing the Demon King’s ill humor.

Two figures. One a sultry older sister.

The other one is a child.

The elder sister holds command of the Second Army Corps; the younger brother commands the Sixth Army Corps.

Outwardly flamboyant, but undeniably a high-ranking demon.

Yes. This time, our Sixth Army successfully cornered the Hero with the cooperation of the Second Army. However, at the final moment, we were repelled in counterattack, resulting in the loss of valuable combat power. I apologize.

What?

Had the Hero been cornered?

Her gaze flickered toward the Demon Lord without thought.

Saying "look" doesn't change the fact that the eyes remain closed.

The Demon King nodded, still frowning, as if aware of my gaze.

The Hero is preparing to erase its existence entirely from the system.

Therefore, I relayed instructions to refrain from reckless actions until that preparation concludes.

And yet, these individuals attempted to strike at the Hero.

"I offer my apology. Had my unit administered the lethal dose as scheduled, this outcome would not have occurred."

Hmph.

In other words, an agent—some spy or other—from the Lady's faction attempted to poison the Hero, but the dosage was insufficient.

Then, the Young Prince's unit attacked the Hero, weakened by the poison, but suffered a counterattack.

That is the situation.

Certainly, normally this would be a major failure. But, in fact, it was well done.

Not killing the Hero at all.

A fortunate escape from incompetence of the lowest order.

"Lord Demon King, Lady Sarnatia merely assisted. The Sixth Army led the operation. All responsibility rests with me."

Ah, impressive for such a young one!

But you're fundamentally mistaken.

"Hey, what exactly are you misunderstanding?"

The Demon King speaks the same thought I have.

A smile forms on his face.

A cruel, wicked smile.

"I clearly issued the order, didn't I? Do not touch the Hero."

Yes. Failure in the operation is irrelevant.

Loss of forces means nothing to the Demon King.

In fact, let them be lost—abundantly.

The issue is that I explicitly forbade touching the Hero, and yet you did.

That was the problem from the beginning.

"Why did you ignore the order and provoke the Hero?"

Smiling, yet eyes burn with fury.

The oppressive weight filling the room.

What of the two within it?

No need to ask.

Pale-faced and trembling faintly—internal state is clear enough.

“Hm? Silence won’t help. Or did you not hear? Missing the Demon Lord’s words—impressive nerve.”

Unnecessarily cruel, though it couldn’t have been deaf.

Shota fumbles to speak, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, unable to form words.

“…I apologize.”

The words finally forced out—plain, unadorned apology.

That was all he could manage.

“Hm? Apology for what? Failed operation? Acting on your own? Ignoring my orders?”

The demon’s relentless verbal assault on the already overwhelmed child.

The sister, in contrast, maintains a measure of composure.

“Your wrath is justified, Demon Lord. Yet we acted out of concern for the Hero’s strength. Though this attempt failed, we did press him to the brink. Next time, success is certain.”

Ah… I’ve done it.

A sharp, grating sound echoes.

Followed by the crunching, grinding noise of something hard being crushed.

Red liquid rains down onto the child’s face.

The child does not recognize what it is.

He tilts his head, bewildered, staring up at the source.

There, meeting his gaze, is his sister—her face equally bewildered, her arms gone.

A scream.

Both sister and child scream simultaneously.

The Demon Lord regarded it with detached indifference, chewing on the sister’s arm.

Whether through gluttony or some other force, the demon’s small mouth clearly could not contain such a thing.

"I told the Hero not to touch you, didn’t I?"

The Demon Lord spoke in clipped, deliberate phrases, as if lecturing.

The sister pressed her hand to the stump of her severed arm, listening.

She had to listen. To not listen meant death.

"Heroic strength? Irrelevant. What matters is that the Hero remains a Hero. You don’t need to understand that. Your job is to follow my words, fight, and die."

The younger one flinches.

"What? Did you really think you were special? I could dispose of you right here, right now—just trash, after all. Such arrogance."

The demon shakes his head, expression one of genuine disbelief.

Likely more than half sincere, in truth.

“Remember this well. You have no value. The only time value arises is when you’ve killed countless enemies and finally die, returning your essence to the world. If you dislike that, kill more enemies than your share. If not, die. If you cannot obey me, die immediately. Now. Die. Die. Die. Die.”

The older sister, pale as blood drains from her body, and the younger one both go ashen.

They understand the demon means it.

Well then. Time to throw them a lifeline.

“Bart. Overwork death.”

A quiet mutter.

They both hold positions of some standing. Their absence would shift burdens onto others.

The consequences will undoubtedly fall on Bart.

Pushing further will kill Bart.

“That would be troublesome. No choice. I’ll pardon you this time.”

They stared in disbelief at the demon lord’s sudden reversal, but when I turned my gaze toward them, they snapped back to their senses, bowed hastily, and hurried out.

I shrugged, watching their departure.

The demon lord did the same.

“Then, Shiro—what brings you here?”

Ah, right.

After that, I mentioned the matter of the Divine Word Church, and the demon lord collapsed onto the floor.