The audience hall, cleared of corpses.
I set a crystal roughly the size of an armful upon its stand.
Within it, that person's remains are sealed.
I had worked it with protective magic.
With cautious fingers, I trace the crystal's surface.
"So you really won’t come back, will you..."
The whisper escapes of its own accord.
I chide myself inwardly for it.
Only the remains before me—these, even with my power, I cannot transform into an undead.
Is that person's soul rejecting it? Or is it my own emotional state?
Either way, I must store them securely.
If they were to vanish in some accident, there would be no recourse.
That was the reason for sealing them within the crystal.
I intend to release them when the day comes to revive her.
Until then, I must ensure they are not lost.
As I silently gaze at the crystal, I hear a door open behind me.
Ducking to enter is the minotaur undead.
The flames in its eye sockets burn as always.
With crisp, efficient movements, the minotaur advances across the carpet.
"Demon Lord! I have prepared your meal. Come, come, please do come to the dining hall! I took great pains in making it!"
"…Forgive me, but I cannot eat or drink. You can tell from my appearance."
I respond from my seat upon the throne.
The minotaur performed an exaggerated display of surprise.
He staggered, slumping his shoulders.
"By the gods…! That is an unpardonable oversight…! This Grom, a fool for a lifetime!"
The minotaur—Grom—clenched his fists in vexation.
After a moment, he clapped his hands as if struck by a brilliant idea and continued.
"Then, how about the selection of your attire? If you command it, I shall race through the Royal Capital to bring you only the finest. Incidentally, a color befitting the Demon Lord would be—"
The loquacious Grom proceeded to steer the conversation onward by himself.
Listening to this, I pressed my fingers to my temple.
I felt a headache coming on.
In life, I would have massaged the tension away.
Before my subordinate, who was enthusiastically listing clothing candidates, I lamented inwardly.
(How on earth did it come to this?)
Three days had passed since my encounter with Grom.
He had become my loyal retainer.
His insolent demeanor had vanished like a lie, and now his words and actions were uniformly servile.
His personality had also completely mellowed out.
According to Grom, he had been deeply impressed by my purpose and way of being.
He had declared he would dedicate himself to working as one of the Demon Lord's executive officers.
Ever since then, it's been like this.
By the way, "Grom" is the name I gave him.
It was taken from a saint in history, and he seems to be quite fond of it himself.
Even the severe damage he sustained was restored in an instant once given mana and miasma.
Now he moves about energetically.
As a being of strength comparable to a Demon King, his vitality and regenerative powers are extraordinary.
What I've learned over these three days is that Grom is dexterous and also remarkably well-informed.
His dexterity is one thing, but for a newborn to be so knowledgeable is strange.
Upon investigation, several facts came to light.
Grom is an aggregate of grudges and miasma.
My art blended those elements, establishing a new individual with his own consciousness.
As a result, Grom inheriting fragments of the original deceased's experiences and memories.
That's why he possesses common sense and can even perform magic.
He's a truly convenient existence.
The meal he made for me—he must be using someone's culinary skills.
Grom is more capable than I imagined.
Though his sense of moderation can sometimes be lacking, he is very obedient and a trustworthy subordinate.
He will never betray me.
Truly an undead worthy of being called a loyal retainer.
"Grom."
"Yes! What would you have me do?"
Grom replied with evident delight.
His posture was perfectly straight, which contrasted sharply with his appearance.
I rose from the throne and declared:
"Wait until I issue an order. I'm going to procure some supplies."
"Oh, what are you saying! If it's menial work, please leave it to me. You need not trouble your own hands, My Liege."
Grom planted himself before me, more agile than he seemed during combat.
The flames in his eye sockets seemed to burn with a newfound sense of mission.
What drove him so?
He was truly transformed from our first meeting.
In the end, I decided to concede this time.
I commissioned Grom to handle the supply procurement within the Royal Capital.
A major factor was the hassle of trying to convince him otherwise.
"Leave it to me. Though unworthy, I, Grom, shall fulfill the Demon Lord's command... Ah! There's dust here! This will not do. I must clean it."
Grom spotted a corner of the room and took up a broom and cloth with his eight arms.
He then set to work with vigor, tidying the room until it was spotless.
Satisfied, he offered an elegant bow and departed.
His entire demeanor was reminiscent of a fussy old chamberlain.
Watching the entire scene unfold from my throne, I felt a sigh wanting to escape.
(…No, but still. Grom's competence remains unchanged.)
Having such powerful undead under my command was a pleasant miscalculation.
I'm willing to turn a blind eye to his particular eccentricities.
His willingness to work for me should be affirmed.
Grom is fine.
More pressing matters require my attention.
This morning, I broadcast my existence to every territory within the kingdom.
I also communicated that those who swear fealty will not be attacked.
I don't want to slaughter those who surrender indiscriminately either.
If they follow me, they are welcome.
This is undoubtedly the first step toward peace.
I'm also curious about the reaction of neighboring countries.
The Royal Capital was seized by the undead.
It's safe to assume that information has spread by now.
How will each nation respond to the emergence of a new Demon Lord?
It's inevitable that they will eventually form an extermination squad.
They won't just leave me be.
Perhaps they are already gathering holy magic users.
(I must also prepare an environment befitting my self-proclaimed status as Demon Lord.)
I wanted to improve this land and prepare more subordinates.
I desired an ally with a personality like Grom.
It was essential for taking coordinated action.
I intended to eventually organize a proper military force to present as the nation of the undead.
To become a lasting blight upon the world, such preparation was necessary.
(Were there any who might wish to serve me, somewhere?)
During my mortal life, there had been organizations, though few, that revered the Demon King.
If my existence became known, contact from such factions might follow.
However, those groups could dangerously spiral out of control in ways I did not desire.
Ultimately, they had to be people I could trust.
Gathering subordinates would be a task for later.
As I was lost in these thoughts, footsteps sounded from outside the room.
They were unusually hurried.
Regular undead did not run about in this manner.
I knew at once whose steps they were.
"My Liege, I bring a report!"
"Is there new movement?"
I asked Grom as he burst through the door.
Grom flared the flame in his eye sockets wide and nodded.
"Yes. It appears an army has been dispatched from the nearest territory. Most annoyingly, they are advancing toward the Royal Capital."
The goal is to recapture the Royal Capital. Your reaction is just as expected."
The kingdom's heart has been destroyed and the king is dead.
The nobles wouldn't just leave that be.
It is, quite literally, a matter concerning the kingdom's survival.
That they would come at me with everything to bring me down was expected.
However, the speed of mobilizing an army within three days is concerning.
Did a capable military officer organize it swiftly?
Or is this a rabble driven by emotion and delusions of glory?
"So, what will you do? I could annihilate them with ease."
"I will go myself. The world must be made aware of the Demon Lord's return. Grom, I leave the defense of this place to you."
The relief army will be annihilated as a demonstration.
I want them to serve as nourishment to show the world the threat I pose.
If, following the fall of the Royal Capital, I inflict further devastation, people will come to understand my danger.
As of now, there has been no reply from the various territories regarding my demand for submission.
It would be helpful if, considering this event, they would make their intentions known.
"Yes! It is my honor! I shall defend the Demon Lord's castle with my entire being!"
Grom placed a hand on his chest and knelt on one knee to the floor.
A reassuring response.
With his strength, he should be able to handle most forces that might attempt a surprise assault.
He possesses strength rivaling that of the previous Demon Lord.
"Even against an army, you should be able to handle them without issue."
"Then, I'll be off."
"Wait just a moment, Demon Lord, please!"
Just as he was about to leave for the reconquest force's location, Grom stopped him.
He looked unusually serious.
Could he have forgotten to report something?
"What is it?"
"Change your attire! This is a grand moment. Show those despicable humans what the Demon Lord truly is!"
Grom declared proudly, the flames on either side of him blazing brightly.
◆
I used teleportation magic to move to the reconquest force.
In life, I could only teleport within line of sight.
I had sometimes forced it as a trump card to withdraw from a battle line, but it took a considerable toll.
That changed drastically after becoming an undead.
It became nearly inexhaustible to use, and the range of teleportation increased significantly.
Learning the power of the undead made me realize the limits of humanity all the more.
The moment the spell activated, my field of vision switched.
I was thrown out into the sky.
Far below, the earth stretched out.
I began to fall immediately, so I created a force field in midair to land.
The wind whips at the clothes.
I wore a deep green hooded robe.
It was adorned with jewel decorations at the edges, which held magical effects.
For me, it was within the margin of error, but the luxurious appearance was not unpleasant.
What Grom, eager to impress, first prepared was a bright crimson robe.
It was embroidered with gold and studded with gems.
It was made to glow brilliantly with the residual magic of the wearer.
In any case, it was flashy, and in short, tasteless.
It probably had no practicality whatsoever.
A noble must have spared no expense in tailoring it.
Grom, it seemed, wanted to make me resplendent above all else.
I was even advised to wear a crown, but I insisted on declining that.
After negotiations, we reached a compromise, resulting in the current robe.
He seemed a bit disappointed, but there was nothing to be done.
The previous demon lord did not particularly favor a splendid appearance either.
I walk through the air while creating a force field.
Before long, I spot an army marching on the ground.
They were carrying flags.
Staring intently, I could tell they were from the territory mentioned in the reports.
It was the reconquest army heading for the fallen Royal Capital.
I observe the procession of troops from above.
A rough count puts them at no less than twenty thousand.
A respectable force indeed.
Moreover, they have deployed a holy magic barrier.
An anti-undead measure, surely.
It seems they are serious about reclaiming the Royal Capital.
(I'm surprised they could muster such an army in less than three days.)
If they advance to the Royal Capital like this, the resulting damage could become impossible to ignore.
While Grom could likely handle them without much trouble, I am not kind enough to stand by and watch.
I think I'll break their fighting spirit right here.
If I do, they'll think twice about launching reckless attacks in the future.
Ultimately, it reduces casualties on both sides.
A most desirable outcome.
You're welcome to view me as an enemy, but I'd rather you didn't rush headlong to your deaths.
"This requires a demonstration. A spectacular slaughter is in order..."
I extend both hands toward the reclamation army on the ground.
I hold my palms open and aloft.
In that moment, I recall my battle with Grom.
There were various ways to use miasma as well.
Since this is a rare opportunity, perhaps I'll try mimicking that.
I constructed the spell by mixing miasma and magical power.
Adjusting as I shaped it into the world.
What emerged was a black sphere.
It hovered before both my palms, lacking any substantial solidity.
It seemed almost gaseous.
Yet it didn't distort or scatter in the wind.
It simply hung there, utterly unchanged.
(Success... or failure?)
As I harbored my doubts, the sphere suddenly began to plummet.
It plunged toward the reclamation army below.
Leaving it to free fall, it accelerated.
The soldiers looked up and cried out.
Some pointed.
They had noticed the sphere descending from above.
Arrows and magic were immediately loosed at it.
The sphere altered its trajectory not at all, continuing to fall while absorbing whatever it touched.
The soldiers' attacks proved utterly meaningless.
It was like punching a mass of water.
The sphere soon made contact with the barrier.
Pushing through with no resistance, it impacted a corner of the army.
The next instant, an explosion erupts there.
Soldiers caught in the direct blast are reduced to gore and scatter.
Those positioned a little farther away also sustain severe or minor injuries from the shockwave.
The detonated spheres melt into a fog of miasma, billowing out and spreading turbidly across the surroundings.
As they twist into thousands upon thousands of black hands, they lash out at the retaking force.
"S-Stop... plea... se..."
"I don't want to die yet! No, not in a place like this...!"
"Ah—! Wait, help me! Someone, please!"
Those seized by the black hands struggle and writhe as they die.
The moment they expire, they transform into undead and turn upon the living.
Those devoured and killed join the ranks as new undead themselves.
It's a repeat of the scene in the Royal Capital.
By now, it's a sight all too familiar.
The fusion of miasma and magic has proven successful.
Depending on the combination of spells and the ratio of their mixture, various applications seem possible.
Since the drain is negligible, I'll want to increase the proficiency from here on.
Some who spot me overhead fire arrows or magic my way.
Annoying, so I ward them off with wind magic.
Still, at my current altitude, nothing short of a direct hit would be fatal even if I did nothing.
In return, I launch additional black spheres, further expanding the carnage among the undead.
The soldiers attempting to counterattack became too preoccupied dealing with the undead to mount any real resistance.
Their chain of command had completely collapsed.
With no effective measures left, the soldiers were being devoured wholesale.
In the end they scattered, and the few survivors fled for their lives.
"Well done."
I commanded the undead on the surface to cease their pursuit of the retreating soldiers.
They still had a role to play—spreading the word of my power.
It had been ten years since the previous Demon Lord's death. The world needed to know that a new threat had emerged for humanity.
Having annihilated the reconquest army, I watched the backs of the fleeing survivors disappear into the distance.