He couldn't comprehend what the man before him was saying.
No—he understood the words perfectly well. It was just that his fury was so overwhelming that his cognitive processing couldn't keep up.
If he let his guard down even slightly, he'd lose control and rampage on pure emotion.
That was why he held back. He asked again, just to confirm it wasn't some misunderstanding or mishearing. But the answer that came back nearly blew away every last shred of Diablo's rationality.
*—That impudent slime who calls itself Great Demon Lord—* In that instant, Diablo began selecting execution methods for Goldma.
*Kufufufu. It's been a long time since anything stirred my emotions like this. To make me angry—this man's got some nerve…* The only reason he didn't strike immediately was his promise to
Managing to suppress his emotions—achieving the heroic feat of enduring it a second time—Diablo rose to his feet.
That was the moment the floor beneath him vanished.
Pushing past his tolerance for fury had scattered his concentration, if only by the faintest margin.
Goldma grinned.
The entire floor in front of his chair was gone.
The table, the reception chairs, and Diablo himself were all sucked down into the void below.
It wasn't some high-level magical trap like a teleportation array—just a simple mechanism for dropping into a subterranean cavity. A pitfall, in other words.
"Ahahahahaha! Not just this room—that underground cavern has been converted into an 'Anti-Magic Zone.' Sealed by sigils of Absolute Magical Defense, it's a space where no magic whatsoever can be used. No matter how powerful a demon may be, once trapped inside, they're no different from an ordinary powerless human! This is the power of human intellect!!"
Beaming with delight, Goldma laughed aloud.
It was, in effect, his declaration of victory.
Meanwhile, Diablo plummeted to the bottom of the pit, landing lightly on his feet without a shred of panic.
The unpleasant laughter echoing from above actually served to restore his composure.
His emotions had already settled back to normal—so much so that a smile had crept onto his face.
*Kufufufu. As a reward for making me so angry, I went ahead and fell into your little trap. Now then—* He could have reacted the moment the floor gave way, but he'd deliberately allowed himself to be swallowed. After all, if he hadn't, he might have killed Goldma on the spot in a fit of rage.
What spread out before him was a space as wide as a school gymnasium.
Roughly ten meters to the ceiling above.
Not an impossible distance to fly, but what caught his attention was something else entirely—he scanned his surroundings and noticed the unfamiliar forms standing in rows.
Magitech Automatons.
Ungainly in design, but clearly built for practical combat.
Three-meter-tall giants clad in thick
Thirteen of them.
An overwhelming show of force.
"Oh my, how splendid. Lord Rimuru would be delighted to see this."
As Diablo murmured, an unpleasant voice reached his ears.
"Kukuku—can you hear me, Lord Diablo? You should have adjusted to the dark by now and noticed the golems standing before you. That's right—those golems shall be the ones to witness your end. In this Anti-Magic Zone devoid of Magicules, they carry built-in mana storage furnaces—the ultimate executioners. Don't worry; if you don't resist, it'll be over before you even feel pain or fear. I'll give you a moment to pray. Be grateful for my mercy."
The owner of that voice was, needless to say, Goldma.
Perhaps buoyed by the confidence that he stood in absolute advantage from a safe position, his tone carried the unmistakable color of an arrogant man's smugness.
"Oh? You intend to kill *me*? What a amusing joke."
"It's no joke, I assure you. I'm dead serious. Of course, after you leave here, you'll simply go missing, and I'll report as much to that slime of yours. I'll have alibis arranged at every turn, so there's nothing for you to worry about. Rest easy and leave the rest to fate."
"I see. And how, pray tell, do you plan to do it?"
When Diablo pressed the question again, Goldma snorted in irritation.
Then, as though explaining to a particularly dense student, he spoke with undisguised impatience.
"One order to the golem before you, and killing you will be child's play. The Reconciliation Faction's filthy lot died screaming and begging for mercy—all because their precious magic was useless. You'll be no different."
"Hmm. The Reconciliation Faction, you say? How very interesting."
Diablo's 'Demon Eyes' had already caught the bloodstains splattered across the floor.
It was abundantly clear that more than one or two people had been executed in this very spot.
This atrocity, committed within a sacred place of learning, was a crime deserving of ten thousand deaths.
"Well, I was just getting into our little chat, but I'm afraid it's time we said our goodbyes. Anything you'd like to get off your chest?"
"Kufufufu—the end? My questions are far from exhausted. Very well—I'll humor you for a while, both to cool my head and for a bit of amusement."
"How insolent… Kill him—"
"**Magitech Execution Deity!**"
At Goldma's command, green light ignited in the golem's eyes.
—Immediately after, the underground cavern was filled with the thunderous din of violent combat.
◆◆◆ After giving his orders to the golems, Goldma sank deep into his chair.
Then, slowly, he savored the elation welling up inside him.
*I did it!* *I, Goldma, have slain the demon known as the "Demon God King" Diablo!* *With him driven into this trap, his end is absolutely certain.* *Thirteen Magitech Execution Deities, each one capable of surpassing a Greater Demon General on its own. And in a battle where magic—the demons' greatest weapon—has been sealed… Defeat is simply impossible.* *His life force must surely be at its end.* Goldma reveled in his excitement.
The Greatest Among the Greater Demon Generals—the devil feared as the Calamity Devil.
Throughout its long history, the Empire had been threatened by Greater Demon Generals on several occasions.
Because of that legacy, for the Empire's citizens, the term "Greater Demon General" had become synonymous with terror.
But even such a towering fiend was gradually being deciphered through humanity's tireless research.
What proved invaluable in that effort was the "Anti-Magic Zone."
Magicules required for summoning were substituted with Magic Stones, and the chamber was completely sealed and warded.
The risk of the summoner being killed was factored in from the start, and experiments involving the summoning of dangerous demons continued in secret.
Through this process, several Greater Demon Generals were successfully captured.
When their abilities were measured, it was discovered that their Threat Ratings were not uniform.
Those with weaker individuality had lower Threat Ratings, while those with fully established selves possessed overwhelming power.
The legendary super-demons were likely special individuals who had lived for an extraordinarily long time—that was the conclusion the research team reached.
If that hypothesis held true, then even Greater Demon Generals need not be feared.
Simply summon them via partial summoning, verify whether they possess a strong sense of self, and if they seem dangerous, send them back. Simple as that.
Having obtained these experimental results, they became adept at controlling demons.
Once sufficient data had been gathered, the captured Greater Demon Generals served no further purpose.
Goldma determined that further experiments were unnecessary and carried out the disposal of the Greater Demon General prisoners.
The instruments that proved their worth in that task were—the Magitech Execution Deities.
The ultimate golems, capable of hunting even demons.
The pride of Goldma's military arsenal.
With thirteen of these reliable Magitech Execution Deities at his disposal, Diablo's death was a foregone conclusion—and Goldma had no reason to doubt it.
And yet, Goldma's thoughts continued.
*They made such a fuss about him being the foremost of the Great Demon Lord's Twelve Guardian Kings, but in the end, it was nothing. He was just a demon—rumors had outrun reality.* *But the significance of this is enormous.* *Diablo—the demon said to be the right hand of that slime. To have slain him means a devastating blow to the Great Demon Lord's forces.* *If that's the case, then…* *With this accomplishment under my belt, becoming the "Leader" of the "Humanity Liberation Alliance" is no longer a dream. That's exactly how things will unfold.* *I shall guide everyone and lead them into a new world!* *Well, he walked right into my trap with remarkable ease.* *His eyes were filled with the arrogance of the strong.* *Perhaps that's precisely why someone of my intellect could handle things as effortlessly as twisting an infant's wrist.* *When dealing with the Reconciliation Faction—the group that sought to acknowledge the Great Demon Lord—I had tested this same pitfall.* *Everything went even better than expected then too. I remember being somewhat disappointed.* *Same story this time.* *The demon feared by everyone in the world—Diablo.* *Yet his true power was nothing more than a demon who fell short even of a Greater Demon General.* *That's just how the world works, Goldma laughed to himself.* *Rumors build up while the substance fails to follow—how often does that happen?* *He possessed high intelligence and, as a demon who had obtained a Physical Body in the real world, a Threat Rating of 7,000 was certainly a threat.* *But now, even that was finished.* *Goldma let his thoughts drift to the future, dreaming of glory and splendor, intoxicated by his own brilliance.* "How laughable. I hear the Twelve Guardian Kings were so powerful that even the Imperial Knights who protected His Majesty couldn't compare… But looking at it now, those rumors are suspect indeed. Even *I* was never chosen as an Imperial Knight, after all…"
"You think so? The Twelve Guardian Kings aren't that weak, you know."
"Bahahaha. What nonsense. I just disposed of their leader, Diablo, didn't I? With these very hands."
"Oh my, how impressive. Then tell me—what exactly am I, the one you're speaking with right now?"
"What did you say—?"
Drowning in a sense of euphoria, it was only then that Goldma finally noticed the wrongness.
He'd given strict orders that no one was to enter this room. There shouldn't have been anyone else present besides himself.
"Who are you—!?"
Whirling around at the voice from behind, Goldma stood frozen.
There—standing with eyes like burning crimson—was a beautiful demon.
The one who would cast Goldma into the abyss of terror.
—Diablo.
◆◆◆ "Gyaaaahhhh!!"
Goldma's shriek echoed through the chamber.
Eyes wide with disbelief at the impossible sight before him, Goldma stood in utter shock.
The Diablo standing there should have been completely ground to pulp by Goldma's prized Magitech Execution Deities. Yet he was unharmed—not a scratch on him, not even his clothing askew.
Wordless with astonishment, Goldma's eyes screamed: *Is that the real one?* To that silent question, Diablo offered a faint smile and a nod.
"Disappointed? I'm quite unharmed, I'm afraid."
Hearing those words, Goldma finally found his voice.
And, still overwhelmed by shock, he screamed at Diablo.
"Don't be absurd! How did you—against my Magitech Execution Deity—"
It was only after getting that far that Goldma's brain finally rebooted.
He finally understood who was standing before him.
"Gyeeeeehhh—!! You—you're Diablo—!?"
A fact his mind had tried so hard to deny—but apparently, that denial had failed.
Panic and terror surfaced on Goldma's face.
"Kufufufu. That golem was quite entertaining. I almost felt bad destroying it. *Almost.*"
"Im—impossible!? How could you have destroyed it!?"
"How, what do you mean?"
Diablo tilted his head slightly, gesturing with his hands as if he genuinely didn't understand the question.
"Don't play dumb! Since magic can't be used, you should have had no power at all… So how on earth did you—!?"
"Hmm." Diablo nodded.
Eager to explain with characteristic generosity—and perhaps to shed light on Goldma's bewilderment—he opened his mouth.
"That's rather obvious, isn't it? If magic can't be used, I simply fought physically. What's the problem with that?"
Diablo answered as if it were the most self-evident thing in the world.
Goldma, however, refused to accept it.
"Don't be ridiculous! Those are Magitech Execution Deities! Thirteen of them—each one capable of surpassing a Greater Demon General! You… you couldn't possibly win without magic!!"
It was practically a shriek.
His mind flatly refused to accept that such a thing was possible.
To this, Diablo continued to address Goldma with a gentle smile on his face.
Treating Goldma with a rare measure of patience—a courtesy born of respect for the man who had stirred his emotions.
Or perhaps it was simply that his rage had burned through so completely that he'd gone numb.
"Well, I'll admit it was somewhat of a struggle. Going bare-handed against weight-class golems is no small feat. But then—it struck me! What Lord Rimuru once said: 'Softness overcomes hardness.' I decided to take it as an opportunity, kept my cool, and let them have at me."
So Diablo explained.
Though in truth, what Diablo interpreted as "softness overcoming hardness" was something else entirely.
He caught the golem's incoming arm and snapped it with brute force.
The golem's punch—carrying the full weight of its colossal frame—was shattered easily by Diablo's fist.
That palm strike, which appeared almost lazy in its lack of effort, made contact with the golem, and the point of impact caved inward deeply before the entire body was sent flying.
It was utter rout.
Nothing more, nothing less than overpowering force crushing the enemy to dust.
He hadn't used magic, true—but not because he couldn't.
He could have if he'd wanted to. He simply didn't need to.
What's more, Diablo had been careful about *how* he destroyed them.
He'd been planning to present these golems as a gift to Rimuru and make him happy.
So he'd taken pains to disassemble them as gently as possible, preserving enough intact parts that several could be reassembled into working order. That was the level of restraint he'd exercised.
After all, to Diablo, Goldma's prized Magitech Execution Deities were worth about as much as toys.
◆◆◆ "I—impossible…"
Diablo's unfathomable strength shattered every notion of common sense that Goldma had held dear.
Trembling, he crawled to the edge and peered down into the pit below.
There, just as Diablo had described, lay the destroyed Magitech Execution Deities in twisted heaps.
Only then did composure begin to return to Goldma's mind.
Along with it came the fear.
Diablo had, at some point, settled into Goldma's own chair, sitting with elegant composure and smiling magnanimously.
Realizing that gaze was directed at him, Goldma went white as a sheet.
Only now did he finally grasp who—or what—he had provoked.
The Great Demon Lord Rimuru's Twelve Guardian Kings.
One of the most powerful demons in existence—the foremost among them, and the strongest of the Twelve Guardian Kings: Diablo.
He was never someone you could afford to cross—Goldma had finally realized that fact.
*(Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD—this is bad!!)* His clarity lasted only a heartbeat.
Goldma plunged back into a state of panic.
*(That's exactly why the Reconciliation Faction's lot and the Moderates kept insisting that a show of force was absolutely forbidden…)* The "Humanity Liberation Alliance" was an organization formed by those who grieved for the future of humankind.
The members' ideologies and beliefs were far from unified, but they shared one conviction: they would not accept a world where humanity lived under the dominion of monsters.
Among them, the Moderates were the largest faction and wielded considerable political clout.
Their stance was simple: *"Do not engage the Demon Lords directly. Instead, covertly send personnel into every field and expand our influence from the shadows."* Naturally, people holding different principles was only to be expected, but Goldma couldn't stomach it.
He believed that humanity's will should be unified under a single, unwavering purpose—to destroy the Demon Lords.
The Reconciliation Faction's talk of coexistence was contemptible; the Moderates' fear of direct confrontation made them, in Goldma's eyes, nothing more than a gathering of cowards.
So Goldma had secretly mocked and ridiculed the Reconciliation Faction and Moderates for their warnings about the Demon Lords' threat…
*(The fool was me all along…)* The moment Goldma recognized the truth, it was already too late.
The Threat Rating that had served as the foundation for his absolute confidence was, to the demon standing before him, nothing but a meaningless number.
The one standing before him was an absolute power that no number could measure.
To have picked a fight with such a dangerous being—that was a mistake that could never, ever be undone.
"P-please, spare me…"
Falling to his knees before Diablo, Goldma pleaded as if in prayer.
Diablo's smile didn't falter. He simply watched Goldma.
"I—I was foolish. Please, have mercy… Just spare my life—"
With tears and snot crumpling his face, Goldma implored Diablo.
And then— "Kufufufu—rest assured. I have no intention of taking your life."
Diablo answered with a gentle expression.
Inside, Goldma silently cheered.
*(It worked! He's not as cold-blooded as the rumors say!)* "Th-thank you so much—"
Struggling to keep his expression from crumbling with relief, Goldma thanked Diablo. But that was when he noticed something wrong with Diablo's demeanor.
"Ku—kufufufu. Yes, I'll spare your life. Lord Rimuru dislikes wantless harm, Souei is always nagging me about it, and above all, I have quite a few questions I'd like to ask you."
Diablo was grinning with undisguised, genuine delight.
"Oh, that's right—isn't this room also part of the Anti-Magic Zone? Why don't we test whether that's really true?"
At those words, a chill ran down Goldma's spine.
A terrible premonition gripped him.
This room was connected to the Anti-Magic Zone—inside these doors, magic should have been impossible.
But right now, a magic circle had materialized before Diablo's hand, and its dark radiance was proof that magic had been activated.
"I—impossible!? Magic in an Anti-Magic Zone!?"
Goldma's brain was on the verge of boiling over with a shock he'd lost count of.
An impossible reality was unfolding right before his eyes.
No—for this demon Diablo, this was simply normal.
*(I—I picked a fight with someone utterly beyond my comprehension…)* Even from the perspective of the Empire's foremost authority on magical research, Diablo was an aberration beyond all measure.
And as Goldma was consumed by regret, Diablo's spell completed itself.
The spell in question— "That—"
"It's a basic spell: 'Demon
Wriggling around Diablo's hand—countless multi-legged creatures resembling centipedes, swarming out from his right palm.
At the sight, Goldma felt his heartbeat spike violently.
His breathing grew ragged, and the pounding of his heart was so loud in his ears that he hallucinated his eardrums might burst.
*(What is he—what is Diablo going to do with those insects—)* "Wh-what are you going to do with those—"
"Oh, by the way—are you familiar with Treants?"
Diablo's question cut off Goldma's own.
Naturally, even Goldma knew of Treants.
A type of monster—intelligent beings in the form of trees.
But what did Treants have to do with anything? Just as that thought formed, Diablo continued speaking.
"How good that you know of them. These particular insects are called Demon Tree Worms. Their special ability is to transform their host into a plant. Of course, animals, magical beasts, demons—and naturally, humans. Any living creature will do, so please—rest easy."
Hearing this, Goldma felt as though he'd been hurled into the deepest chasm of despair.
He understood Diablo's intention.
"Im—impossible! You wouldn't—use those on *me*—!?"
The Demon Tree Worms—terrifying parasites of the Demon World.
Insects that fed on magical beasts and demons alike.
As a mere human, Goldma had no means of resistance whatsoever.
Goldma was gripped by a terror that came from the very depths of his soul.
A strange, acrid stench rose in the reception room.
Liquid and solid matter streamed from his crotch, steam rising from the mess, and Goldma choked on a sob.
"Please, spare me! N-no! Not that—anything but that, please!!"
He begged desperately, but Diablo's smile did not change.
"Now then—*that* shall be your new 'host.'"
With a cheerful expression, Diablo loosed the Demon Tree Worms toward Goldma.