2. Summoned to the Royal Castle
Liz and I arrived at the royal castle.
The strategically vital heart of this nation—the capital of the Listrea Demon Kingdom.
Built during wartime, the castle wasn’t particularly opulent. Rather, constructed as a last bastion, it exuded an air of stark functionality.
While one might be tempted to describe it as physically and magically impregnable… if it ever came to a siege here, the demons would undoubtedly lose.
Liz exchanged brief greetings with the guards as we slowly crossed the long drawbridge spanning the water-filled moat. She offered further salutations to the guards at the castle gate.
I remained silent, as instructed. My mask hid any trace of expression.
Liz had ordered me to maintain a straight back and move with a measured grace to project an aura of authority. The long robe, reaching my ankles, made walking slightly awkward, but tripping over the hem here was not an option.
I was a supreme commander of the Demon King’s army, after all.
Liz led the way with an air of familiarity, and I followed at a leisurely pace.
We were eventually ushered into a waiting room. Used also as a reception room, the carpets underfoot and paintings adorning the walls contributed to a moderately stately atmosphere.
Most importantly, the sofas were comfortable. Especially with my maid by my side.
“You can relax for a bit,” Liz said.
“Thanks.” I let my shoulders slump.
“Haaah~!” I exhaled dramatically.
“…You’re relaxing a little too much,” Liz commented.
“I’ll behave properly in the audience chamber…”
I flopped my head onto Liz’s shoulder. She sat next to me with impeccable posture. I closed my eyes. The mask would hide it.
“I said you’re relaxing too much.”
“You’d sense any approaching presence, wouldn’t you, Liz…?”
She was the assassin I trusted most.
“Even assassins directly under His Majesty… if they’re on my level, there’s a chance I wouldn’t notice.”
“Wouldn’t assassins of that caliber already know my true identity?”
After all, I had the luxurious experience of being guarded by His Majesty’s personal guard division’s elite assassins, including Liz.
Depending on your perspective, it was surveillance. And depending on His Majesty’s decision, it could have been a prelude to assassination.
However, that connection led to the maid currently supporting my head being assigned as my bodyguard. Nostalgic memories.
“It’s a matter of degree. Not everyone knows that the Virus King, Lord of Disease, is such a slacker in private.”
“Saying that out loud seems more problematic. Well, I’m the type who likes to separate work and private life, too.”
My job, after all, was supreme commander of the Demon King’s army.
Specifically, I headed a rather unique department specializing in disrupting the enemy’s domestic infrastructure.
My subordinates consisted of assassination squads and disinformation/agitation units.
It didn’t sound good, and the actual work was even less savory. I had no desire to bring that into my personal life.
“I don’t know anyone who mixes business with pleasure and abuses their authority as much as you, Master…”
“Must be all those good bosses you’ve had.”
If every boss were a good boss, surely workers everywhere would be happy. It was unfortunate that such was not the case.
“…Not really,” Liz muttered. I felt her long ears twitch slightly.
“Master. Compose yourself.”
“Yes.” I straightened up, lifting my head from her shoulder.
I adjusted my slightly askew hood and activated the voice-altering enchantment on my mask.
A moment later, a knock echoed through the room, and a maid entered. A dark elf like Liz, but an ordinary maid, not an assassin.
Her uniform was slightly different from Liz’s. It was a one-piece dress, and the apron wasn’t as… chest-emphasizing.
“Lord of Disease. Lizlit Finis. Preparations for the audience are complete. Please follow me…”
“Lord of Disease.”
Liz stood up and called my ‘name,’ politely prompting me. I nodded magnanimously.
As I rose, I tapped the carpet with the ferrule of my staff. The maid flinched, her shoulders trembling, and she quickly lowered her head.
I waved a hand clad in a black leather glove.
“Thank you…”
My voice was deep and resonant, completely unlike my own, its gender ambiguous, seeming to emanate from the depths of the earth.
While the mask looked like it was imbued with dangerous magic, it was honestly a collection of convenient functions. Rare, in its own way.
First, it had a perception-distorting enchantment. Apparently, it made it difficult to see my neck and hair, or at least made them appear unremarkable.
Then, there were the excellent visual enhancements. Although the mask lacked eyeholes, I could see perfectly well.
More than perfectly well, actually. The visuals were incredibly sharp. It also had zoom and night vision functions, among other things. Enough to make me wonder, “Was I hired as a sniper?”
Apparently, all these enchantments were replicable by a veteran archer without any magical assistance, but for an ordinary person like me, they were incredibly handy.
The respiratory functions were also comprehensive.
Despite the lack of a mouth opening, breathing was normal, and it even purified the air. Fortunately, I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to test that function.
The way it comfortably adhered to my face was also a plus.
And most importantly, the glowing eyes were the best.
Completely useless, purely aesthetic. When worn, the eye-like markings on the left side glowed an eerie orange. The intensity and pattern of the glow supposedly changed according to the wearer’s will and emotions. I’d practiced making them flicker dramatically in front of a mirror until I’d achieved a level of mastery.
I wouldn’t deny that it was a rather embarrassing practice session, one I’d prefer no one witnessed.
But that, too, was part of being a supreme commander.
The job of a commander was to set direction, make decisions, and be a banner.
While supreme commanders typically served as banners on the front lines—my battlefield was here, at the very rear.
An easy job of simply issuing cruel orders from the safety of the royal capital. Orders so heinous that even demons described them as ‘blood-curdling.’
Thus, this, too, was a battlefield for me. If I were to trip and make a fool of myself, who knew what kind of rumors would spread?
I couldn’t allow that, not for the sake of my subordinates who believed in me.
Steeling myself, I followed Liz, who walked a few steps ahead.
The audience chamber wasn’t far. I walked slowly, deliberately, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
The massive doors of the audience chamber stood open.
Liz took her position beside the doors as I entered first. Stepping through, I trod upon a crimson carpet.
Apparently, I was the last to arrive, as the doors closed behind me with a heavy thud.
This was both the audience chamber and the throne room. A vast hall located at the very heart of the castle, spanning several floors.
At the far end hung a long banner, the nation’s emblem—a dragon with a serpent’s tongue—embroidered in gold on a black background. Beneath it stood the ornate throne.
Upon the throne sat His Majesty the Demon King, arrayed in full regalia: crown, scepter, and a white robe adorned with intricate embroidery. While the nation’s image color was black, white served to accentuate it.
The assembled attendees, representing various races, were mostly clad in black, making His Majesty’s white attire stand out like a beacon in the darkness.
I walked straight down the red carpet, which doubled as a guide, toward His Majesty.
Another red carpet lay perpendicular to the first, forming a cross. It marked the front row, before the throne.
Four figures already stood in line. Liz and I joined them at the end.
My fellow commanders were a distinguished group. With the exception of the dragon, who had prior commitments, all the supreme commanders were present.
There were six supreme commanders of the Demon King’s army.
Absent today was the “Dragon Mother,” Lital, who ruled over all dragons residing in this nation as the apex of the dragon race. Female. I had yet to see her, but she was said to be a beautiful silver dragon. Stationed in the Lital mountain range, which shared her name and served as the nation’s border, she oversaw the defense of the realm and rarely appeared at such gatherings. The simple fact that she was too large to fit comfortably within the castle was also a contributing factor.
Then there was “Broken Fang” Lathus, commander of the beastman army, a veteran beast warrior who commanded the absolute trust of the beastman race. Male. He had the head of a fierce, black-grey wolf and a hairy body. A werewolf, in short. Over two meters tall, he wore a black, gold-buttoned coat with the collar turned up. All but one of the front buttons were undone, the coat hanging open dramatically. Judging by his bulging pectoral muscles and the sheer amount of fur, it probably wouldn’t close anyway. A wild one. Despite his appearance, he carried a rapier and a dagger at his hips.
Next was the “Old One,” a traditional, high-ranking greater demon, the oldest member of the demon army, who had founded this nation alongside His Majesty the Demon King. True name undisclosed. Gender undisclosed. Even standing next to Lathus, he towered over him by two heads, a shadowy figure. Black, bat-like wings sprouted from his back. His long, slender body was covered in long hair. His head resembled a goat’s, but with four bony horns. His hands were long and thin, his feet hidden beneath thick fur. A truly bizarre appearance, nothing short of grotesque. He carried no weapons. However, while demons were skilled with weapons, they were all formidable mages. No fool in this world would underestimate an unarmed demon.
Then there was “Blood Knight” Bringit Finis, the dark elf commander of the dark knights. Female. The older sister of my adjutant, maid, and assassin, Lizlit Finis. Clad in red full plate armor without a helmet, a black cloak draped over her shoulders, and a longsword at her hip. Her long silver hair was tied back in a ponytail, giving her a valiant appearance. She resembled Liz, as sisters often do, but her gaze was so sharp that it made one question their relation. Well, Liz could be intimidating when she was serious, too, but in her case, it manifested as a blank expression.
Next was “Greater Wraith” Eldritch, commander-in-chief of the undead army. The gender of undead was largely subjective and based on appearance, but he was supposedly male. A greater wraith, as his title suggested, but apparently the last of his kind, hence the use of his species as a title. Being a wraith, his entire body was translucent. A semi-transparent purple hood shadowed his equally translucent skeletal face. Eerie blue-green will-o’-the-wisps flickered in his dark eye sockets. His bony, translucent hand grasped a gnarled staff, wrapped in so many different cloths that the staff itself was almost entirely concealed.
And finally, I, the “Virus King, Lord of Disease,” the sixth supreme commander in the four-hundred-year history of this nation. True name undisclosed. Species undisclosed. Gender undisclosed. A dark green hooded robe edged with gold. A lighter green robe beneath. A long, narrow cloth embroidered with runes in gold thread draped over my shoulders. Three amulets around my neck. An unsettling mask peeked out from beneath the hood, ominous orange lights flickering within like malevolent eyes. The gnarled staff in my hand held an elongated, octahedral blue gem bound by crisscrossing chains. Thick black gloves concealed my skin entirely.
Hence the ‘species unknown.’ Which was rare in this nation… practically nonexistent, in fact. Given the nation’s origins as a coalition of races united against the humans who ostracized them.
So, “What is the Virus King, Lord of Disease’s species?” was currently the hottest topic of gossip.
The most popular theory was demon. Undead was a solid second. With further subdivisions based on specific appearance and morphology, apparently.
Dark elf and beastman trailed slightly due to the design of my hood, though some argued that I might be an elf or beastman with cropped ears, hence the concealment.
Doppelganger. Summoned creature. Every race except dragons had its supporters.
Speaking of dragons, there was also the long-shot theory of a mutated humanoid dragon.
This theory was considered a long shot because no one could convincingly answer the question, “Why would they hide it?”
Well, that applied to most of the theories, but this one in particular. There was a theory that I was concealing my race to avoid the appearance of favoring a race with two representatives in the supreme commander positions, which traditionally had only one member from each race. That at least provided a rationale.
There was also the utterly baffling theory of a higher-order conceptual lifeform.
In that case, I was supposedly the embodiment of the “concept of slaughter,” a notion that made my head spin just hearing it.
And then there was the persistent human theory.
Since I rarely left the suburban mansion provided as my base of operations, I was the center of attention at these public events. Whispers reached my ears.
“Is that… the Virus King, Lord of Disease?”
“No one has ever seen what’s under the hood…”
“What race is he, anyway…?”
“There are rumors that he’s human…”
“Don’t be absurd. Could a human commit such atrocities…?”
Plenty of my subordinates have seen my face. A considerable number, in fact.
And I was one hundred percent, pure, unadulterated human.
—And leading these six supreme commanders was “His Majesty the Demon King.” True name undisclosed. Apparently a dark elf of an older generation. Age unknown, but given that he’d reigned since the nation’s founding some four hundred years ago, he was older than almost every being present.
The apex of all demonkind, and the strongest.
Age had etched deep wrinkles into his face, and his silver hair, characteristic of dark elves, had lost its luster and was now more accurately described as white. His skin, too, was pale, as if faded. Yet, an undeniable aura of intimidation emanated from him. Was this a diminished form of his power, or had he accumulated strength with age?
In either case, he possessed the authority befitting the leader of the monstrous supreme commanders of the Demon King’s army.
It felt like His Majesty and the other supreme commanders could wipe out humanity on their own. However, humanity had considerable strength in numbers, making such a feat impossible. In fact, in a full-scale confrontation, it was said that the demons would be the ones defeated.
They could put up a ‘good fight.’ They could ‘make their mark.’
But those were not words a leader should use in a war.
The two honor guards flanking His Majesty simultaneously struck the floor with the butts of their flag-bearing spears.
Silence fell over the chamber, as still as water. A silence that awaited His Majesty’s words.
“It appears everyone has gathered…”
His voice was raspy. But it resonated clearly, prompting everyone to straighten their posture.
“Then, let us begin…”
I felt his gaze turn towards me.
“Virus King, Lord of Disease. Step forward.”
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