I can understand why Grom would be troubled.
It’s true he has a worrisome streak by nature, but even setting that aside, there were elements I couldn’t ignore.
This time, we weren’t merely facing a powerful enemy.
The previous hero was, for me, the person I held most dear.
I didn’t know how I would react upon meeting her.
Grom was sensing that.
At the council of my commanders, I had declared I would fulfill my mission as the Demon Lord.
However, that was ultimately just words.
In reality, I might not act in accordance with my declaration.
There was a possibility I might even comply with her demands.
Worst-case scenarios, like being annihilated without even a fight, could also be considered.
I had steeled my resolve, but even so, I couldn’t say with absolute certainty that my heart wouldn’t change.
Grom was an old subordinate, even within the Demon Lord’s Army.
As the first commander, he knew my past and my purpose better than anyone.
And he had empathized with my struggles.
Rationally, he probably wanted to trust me.
But it was precisely because he knew me so well that he was worried.
As a result, he was tormented, caught between reason and emotion.
To cause such anguish in a subordinate—perhaps I was unfit to be a lord.
Even so, I was the Demon Lord, and Grom was my subordinate.
It was my role to ease the anxiety settling within him.
"I'd like to say 'don't worry,' but that seems rather difficult."
"…I am sorry."
Grom apologized in a voice like a groan.
He seemed to loathe himself for being unable to trust me completely.
Head bowed, his shoulders trembled.
The flame in his single eye had dwindled to almost nothing, as though it might go out at any moment.
(This is the critical moment.)
What needed to be said was already decided.
Without pretense, I would simply lay bare my true feelings.
Having steeled myself, I spoke to Grom.
"That's fine. Your circumspection is not a bad thing."
"—!"
Grom raised his head sharply.
When our gazes met, the flame in his single eye surged back to life.
It was only two short sentences, but it seemed my feelings had come across.
I placed a hand on his shoulder and continued.
"I will return without fail. We will each fulfill our roles."
"…Yes sir! Understood!"
Grom snapped off a crisp salute, bowed to me, and then teleported away.
Just moments ago, his movements had been free of hesitation, as if the uncertainty never existed.
That didn't mean his doubts were gone.
Yet, even bearing those doubts, he had steeled his resolve to see the mission through.
Grom also had work ahead of him.
He was to stop the phantom savior who was rampaging in various regions.
With his strength, he could certainly keep the damage to a minimum.
He'd been quite fired up, so no major problems should arise.
(I must answer the trust placed in me.)
Grom was an undead I had created.
He was made using the souls of the slaughtered people of the Royal Capital, so it wouldn't be strange to be resented if one traced it back to the root.
In fact, at first, my control over him—the one who summoned him—had been ineffective.
Because of that, we ended up trying to kill each other almost immediately after meeting.
But now, Grom was inspired by my purpose and followed of his own free will.
He had a meddlesome personality, but his loyalty was beyond question.
And it wasn't blind worship.
Sometimes he would raise questions, trying to gauge my public stance versus my true feelings.
He was a loyal retainer, almost too good for the likes of me.
He had supported me many times.
All I could give back to Grom, in return, was results.
After that person is revived, I have no idea what will happen.
Still, I had no choice but to move forward.
There was no way I could stop being the Demon King.
"That exchange just now, it was very Demon King-like. Well done."
Alongside the applause, a familiar voice rang out.
Walking towards me from the opposite direction of Grom were Luciana and Henry.