20. A Demon’s Loyalty
“—Samarkand.”
“Yes…”
Before me, kneeling on one knee, was the goat-headed demon, Samarkand.
Even beneath his thick black fur, I could see the defined muscles of his upper body. His head and lower body were that of a goat, as was his tail.
A grotesque, inhuman form.
It had only been a week since he’d come to assassinate me, the Virus King, Lord of Disease. But now, bound by a blood contract, he was my loyal servant.
I tapped his shoulder with my staff, in a gesture reminiscent of a knighting ceremony. Even kneeling, he was so tall that I had to raise my arm slightly to reach him.
“I grant you the rank of third in the Virus King’s forces. You will be assigned to the bodyguard unit. Understood?”
There had been some… friction… before his official assignment was finalized. The objections boiled down to, “Are we really going to let a supreme commander assassination perpetrator go free, even if it was just an attempt?”
My counterarguments were as follows:
It was an attempt, and he’d ultimately refused to carry it out of his own volition.
He was now bound by a blood contract, completely subservient to me.
But in the end, I’d had to force the issue, using my success in neutralizing the Dragon Knights and the ‘reward’ associated with it as leverage. According to Liz, it was also partly to appease those who were watching my every move, wondering what kind of reward I would receive.
“I am deeply honored. I swear to overcome all obstacles and fulfill the duties of this rank and position. My everything belongs to you. Please accept my eternal loyalty.”
“…Samarkand. That’s a lot.”
“Master, it’s a ritual,” Liz interjected.
“Oh, sorry.” I cleared my throat and started again.
“—I accept your loyalty, Samarkand.”
The black goat bowed his head respectfully.
“Um, is that it?”
“Well, it’s mostly formality. Samarkand has already entered into a blood contract…”
Samarkand looked up, his gaze meeting mine.
“My master. My only fear is failing to earn your favor. Speak your desires. I will use all my abilities to fulfill your every wish.”
“Is this the part where you ask for my soul in exchange?”
The thought that that’s so demon-like was fleeting.
“If anything, the price was my soul. From the moment we formed the blood contract, my existence is solely to serve you.”
“Wait, Samarkand. That’s a lot. Too much. The ritual is over, you know?”
“I am aware, but…?” His goat eyes, those crescent moons, tilted slightly. He was being polite, but I understood what he was trying to convey.
He was expressing his confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
In Japan, I would probably never use, nor hear, such pronouncements. I’d said his declaration was ‘a lot,’ and he’d responded with, ‘I don’t understand.’
I don’t even understand myself.
“I should have asked this earlier, but why are you so… intense, Samarkand?”
“…Intense?” Oh dear, I’m starting to worry about his common sense.
“Indeed, to human sensibilities… my words may sound… exaggerated.”
“…Right.”
Exaggerated, or perhaps overly dramatic.
“But I have nothing else to offer. I only have my own abilities. —Therefore, I have decided to use my life and all my abilities for you.”
“Sorry, I lost you at ‘therefore.’ Could you explain that a little more clearly?”
Samarkand slumped, dejected.
“I am a fool for using words my master cannot understand. But please, allow me to elaborate.”
“…Yes, you’re forgiven. Go ahead.”
I had a few things to say about that statement, too, but I decided to focus on the main issue.
“My master, are you familiar with demons?”
“…Not really… only general knowledge.”
Demons.
Powerful beings.
Exceptionally skilled in magic, all of them formidable mages.
Long lifespans. Resilient bodies.
Generally humanoid, but with variations in appearance, like Samarkand’s goat-like features, some with bestial skulls, others with bat-like wings.
My knowledge was limited to these general, superficial observations.
“Did you know… demons don’t have children?”
“…Then how do you… multiply?”
Samarkand shook his head slightly.
“We don’t know. Perhaps we are like the undead, spontaneously generated from pools of magical energy infused with resentment and souls…”
A race that didn’t know its origins. They didn’t even know how they were born.
“We simply have memories from a certain point in time. We grow stronger with time, gain experience through battles. There’s no strict definition of a greater demon, but consider it a general term for those who have accumulated power. We have something resembling a lifespan… but we are a long-lived race, rivaled only by dragons.”
“That part, I’m definitely envious of.”
“The grass is always greener… We have no parents, no children. No past, no future.”
He… chuckled? His goat-like mouth opened slightly, a sigh escaping his lips.
“Our connections with each other are also tenuous. A sense of camaraderie with those who share the same sense of emptiness. That’s all we feel towards our own kind. We don’t even know if we are the same kind.”
I was the only human in this nation. I didn’t believe that race was everything.
But I understood the feeling of kinship, of shared identity. I knew what it felt like to care for a younger sibling.
—And they didn’t.
“That is why we seek purpose. We seek masters. We seek friends. We seek followers. We desire something, anything, to leave a mark on this world, to forge connections during our fleeting existence.”
His crescent-moon eyes pierced me.
“I… have found my master. One worthy of my service. One whose every word I can believe without a shadow of a doubt.”
“…I… might not be such a great master.”
I knew he was being sincere. The blood contract didn’t allow for falsehoods towards one’s master. Lies would be felt.
And truth… would be felt, too.
“I felt destiny’s hand. That is enough. I have already entrusted my life to you. Use it as you see fit.”
“That’s why I’m telling you to take care of yourself…”
The problem was, I knew he meant it.
“—I am.”
And yet, the black goat smiled contentedly.
“There is nothing more foolish than to disobey one’s own heart…”
“…Right.”
This warmth that filled my chest. This terrifyingly heavy, absolute loyalty. The offer of a demon’s lifespan, longer than a human’s, dedicated to me.
It’s frightening.
“I’ll do my best, Samarkand. To be worthy of your faith.”
I probably wasn’t the master he believed me to be. I was just a human.
Someone who’d lived an ordinary life, then decided to turn it all upside down and embrace ruthlessness.
But if he believed in me this much… I wanted to believe in the me he believed in.
I wasn’t called the Virus King, Lord of Disease for nothing.
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