36: The Eve of the Investiture Ceremony
For the past few days, small units had been operating under my ‘advice.’
The warriors of this world were strong. Stronger than I’d initially imagined. But the ordinary villagers were no different from those in my world.
Just as powerless.
They died far more easily than warriors, their deaths adding to the ‘achievements.’ There was no immediate, large-scale impact. Eliminating one or two villages wouldn’t change the overall situation.
So, I decided to wield the weapon derived from the fact that humans were social creatures like the Grim Reaper’s scythe.
Whispering countless lies and a single truth into their ears, injecting the poison of fear into their hearts.
A plague in one village.
A curse in another.
A demon army invasion here.
A purge by the human nations there.
A sudden surge in the wolf population.
Disputes over common land and water rights.
A lovers’ quarrel escalating into a village-wide feud, both sides destroying each other.
—And other rumors I’d come up with on the spot, incorporating suggestions from others, spreading them far and wide.
The leadership of the human nations responded in the usual manner.
They announced a demon army invasion.
They urged the people to remain calm, not to panic, not to take any rash actions.
They were fools.
The complete annihilation of one or two villages was a fact. And a demon army invasion, even as a rumor, was terrifying.
The rumor that people were being killed simply for working in their fields—and the realization that it was, regardless of the reason, close to the truth—terrified the populace. People abandoned their fields in droves. They flocked to the towns—and naturally, food production plummeted.
A large population was the foundation of human prosperity. But it was also a noose around their necks. A society built on the assumption of abundance was incredibly fragile when things went wrong.
The humans weren’t completely incompetent.
They deployed their standing army as guards and organized hunting parties. While these efforts were ineffective since we’d already withdrawn our forces, their ineffectiveness also proved the absence of the Demon King’s army.
It was the correct response, in the short term. But not all soldiers were elite. Guards were targeted and killed, soldiers got lost during hunts and were killed, and in areas without military presence, villagers continued to be slaughtered.
Slowly, surely, like a gradually administered poison.
The human nations apparently had some sort of intelligence network. Even if it wasn’t perfect, they were gathering information.
—There was a new enemy.
And His Majesty bestowed a name upon me. He gave form to the amorphous fear.
“Lord of Disease”
That was the name of the terror I’d unleashed.
Known as the Lord of all disease and poison
A terrifying mage who reaped lives with forbidden magic.
It was a mere illusion.
The Lord of Disease did exist. I was the Lord of Disease. But I wasn’t a powerful mage.
And yet, the humans relentlessly pursued and tried to kill the Lord of Disease. They probably wanted to believe…
…that if they killed me, everything would return to normal.
The truth was different. The lid to hell had already been opened.
I was frequently targeted for assassination, and there were several close calls. But thanks to Liz—whom I still called Lizlit back then—and her colleagues, who sometimes helped without revealing themselves, I survived.
Every time an assassin sent after me disappeared, every time a hastily planned invasion failed, the name of the Lord of Disease spread. There were traitors among the demons, too, but they revealed themselves, drawn out by the tempting target I presented.
And based on these accomplishments, I was appointed a supreme commander of the Demon King’s army.
“It’s finally happening.”
“Yes.”
The ‘finally happening’ Lizlit, who now frequently saw me in her capacity as my guard and attendant, referred to was my investiture ceremony.
I had made it this far.
I was no longer ‘Nameless.’ I had a name, one proposed by Lizlit and adopted by His Majesty.
The name, “Lord of Disease.”
And to that, the title of supreme commander would be added.
“But isn’t ‘Lord of Disease’ a bit… much?”
“It suits you.” Lizlit smiled faintly.
I smiled back.
“Thank you.”
Lizlit opened the closet and retrieved something.
“Here you go.”
“This…?” She handed me folded green cloth, a staff, and a mask.
“Your attire.”
Lizlit helped me put it on.
A pale green robe.
A dark green hooded robe.
A shoulder cloth edged with gold thread and embroidered with runes on a black background.
Three amulets on a cord around my neck: a small vial, a fang, and a metal plate.
In my hand, a gnarled wooden staff with an octahedral blue gem bound to it by iron chains.
After donning everything except the black mask with the orange markings, I stood before the mirror.
—I look like an evil sorceress.
I twirled around, the hems of the layered robes swirling around me. I tilted my head.
“…Does it… suit me?”
“Yes. It suits you very well. Except for the robes, these were all custom-made for you by our finest artisans. They are all top-quality magic items.”
Magic items. The words sent a thrill through me.
“Wow. What kind of magical effects do they have?”
“This vial has a defensive enchantment that absorbs a certain amount of damage. When the sand inside turns red, it’s reached its limit. This fang protects against physical attacks. This metal plate protects against magic. The staff also constantly generates a defensive barrier due to the mana imbued within it. The shoulder cloth is mostly decorative, but it also provides a weak defensive effect.”
“…Um, any effects besides defense…?”
The items seemed to promise a variety of effects, and indeed they did, but they were all focused on defense.
“None. These are for your protection. Our nation doesn’t expect you to perform feats of valor on the battlefield.”
“…Right.”
My battlefield wasn’t the front lines; it was the rear. My job was to give orders.
Essentially, my job was to stay alive.
“And the mask?”
“Ah, yes. How do I put this on?” The mask didn’t have any straps or strings.
“Just place it on your face.”
“…On my face?”
I did as instructed, and my vision went dark as the mask covered my face… then, it seemed to fuse with my skin, and my vision returned.
“Can you breathe? Can you see?”
“Yes, both are fine.”
I could breathe normally, and my vision was unimpaired.
“You can adjust your vision as well, but let’s get to that later. The function you’ll be using immediately is… voice alteration.”
“Voice alteration?” A mask was for concealing one’s face…
…I should probably abandon that preconceived notion.
“Place your hand on the mask and imagine the voice you want. It should change accordingly.”
“Imagine…”
The only magic she’d taught me was [Cleansing]. She’d held my hand, guiding me, the close proximity making my heart skip a beat, but I was told that was how adults taught children. Apparently, it was the demon equivalent of handwashing.
I recalled the way I’d manipulated mana then, the importance of visualization.
…What kind of voice would be appropriate?
I touched the mask. Then, I spoke, my voice deep and resonant.
“—I am the Lord of Disease.”
A deep, booming voice, as if emanating from the depths of hell. It didn’t sound like my own. …And yet, it felt strangely familiar.
“…Perfect, Lord of Disease.” Lizlit bowed. It seemed I’d done it correctly.
“You can remove it now.”
“Okay.” I removed the mask, feeling a sense of relief.
“You said the artisans made everything except the robes. Who made the robes?”
“I wove them myself, using magic.”
She made them herself?!
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“They are excellent as both clothing and armor, but in this nation, this is a common item, a common technique…”
“No, being able to make something like this is amazing. Thank you, Lizlit.”
“…You’re welcome.”
“Thank you. —I’ll be going now.”
“Take care. I’ll be watching from the shadows.”
Incidentally, the investiture ceremony was tomorrow. Today was for costume fitting and rehearsal.
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