"My, that was a near-death experience! I could almost see the gates of Hades before my very eyes. Had it not been for the Demon Lord's aid, I would never have drawn breath again."
Grom's voice, full of admiration, echoed through the audience chamber.
The phrase "drawn breath again" struck me as slightly odd, but I made no comment on it. If he was satisfied, then that was good enough.
Grom had been like this for the past two days. Since recovering from his near-fatal state, he had taken to recounting my recent exploits at every opportunity, like some wandering bard.
His manner of telling was utterly exaggerated, sounding more like the heroic tale of a different person altogether.
I had intended to leave him be, assuming he would calm down eventually, but if anything, his fervor seemed to be growing. Whenever I was not by his side, he was apparently traveling to various parts of the Royal Capital, recounting the battle between me and the Saint Makia.
The problem was, Grom had been teleported back to the capital at the very beginning, so he shouldn't have actually witnessed the fight. He had given a concise report to the leadership, but it wasn't detailed enough to share with third parties in such a manner.
It seemed he was filling in the vast majority of the details with his own imagination. My initial plan was to correct him once his fiction became too outrageous, but strangely enough, many parts aligned with the actual events. Because of this, I couldn't very well deny it, and I was currently maintaining a tacit approval.
Well, it wasn't causing any real harm. If anything, it was simply a bit embarrassing for me. If this served as entertainment for my subordinates, it was a small price to pay.
Furthermore, it could be expected to bolster their sense of security. A Demon Lord who had triumphed over a Saint was perfect for boosting morale.
(This was a worry I could only afford to have because Grom had not perished.)
I am truly glad I was able to help him.
Had circumstances been even slightly different, he might not be here.
Ignoring Grom's excessive praise, I am simply glad he is well.
It has been five days since the battle with the Holy Staff Nation's army.
The damage sustained by the Demonic Lord's Army was considerable.
It was, for all intents and purposes, our first defeat.
Though I had taken over command, the Demonic Lord's Army was forced to retreat before the Saint.
It wasn't just the undead who fell; there were casualties among the monsters and elven subordinates as well.
The funeral has already been held.
Those mourning lost comrades, those steeling their resolve for the next battle, those wishing to move from rear support to the front lines—everyone experienced a change in their own way.
Of course, I am no exception.
My misjudgment led to catastrophic losses.
Had I noticed the anomaly sooner, some might still be alive.
In the future, I intend to strengthen our communication networks.
We must be able to detect any situation immediately to minimize the Demonic Lord's Army's attrition.
What has happened cannot be undone.
All I can do is sift through the points of reflection and apply them to future engagements.
However, whether the current Royal Capital is truly drowning in grief—that is not necessarily the case.
Everyone was trying to move forward.
They all understood this was not the time to stand still.
The Demon Lord's army is looking to the future. I find solace in that.
"General, coming in."
The door was knocked, and Henry appeared from beyond it. The wounds he had sustained in battle against the Holy Staff Nation's army had already healed. If anything, bitter over his defeat, Henry had been remaking himself.
"What is it?"
"There's something I want you to see. Come on, get in here."
Henry gestured toward the hallway outside the room. The one who stepped inside at his beckoning was Dolda, clad head to toe in crimson plate armor.
"My head... give me... my head..."
"Haha, you've got a head, don't you?"
Henry lightly rapped the moaning, vacant-eyed Dolda on the skull. The impact caused the head to pop clean off and tumble across the floor. Chuckling wryly, Henry picked it up, placed it back atop the neck, and pressed it firmly into place.
"The fit's still too loose. Maybe I really should have a smith look at it."
"Henry... what exactly is going on here?"
From my throne, I nearly clutched my head in disbelief. A faint headache was beginning to pulse behind my eyes.
Henry answered in his same unshakable tone as ever.
"Ah, the famous Dolda, you know."
"That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking about Dolda's head."
I point a finger.
Dolda's neck was not that of a human.
It had become the head of an old wolf with grey fur.
Its eyes glowed blue.
It seemed that when it came to Dolda's neck, it commonly took on that color.
Henry placed a hand on the old wolf's head.
"This one? They kept clamoring about wanting a neck, wanting a neck, so I prepared this taxidermy head for them."
"Did you make it yourself?"
Taxidermy should take a considerable amount of time.
It would be difficult to prepare one after Dolda joined the Demon Lord's army.
Thinking this, I asked, and Henry shook his head.
"No, I borrowed it from a noble's mansion. I found a few other species too, so I can swap them out depending on my mood. See, you're happy, aren't you?"
"This... is... not... my... neck..."
"See, they're properly happy."
Henry smiled proudly.
Rather than being happy, Dolda looked displeased, but Henry seemed to be deliberately ignoring it.
However, there was no sign of Dolda causing a ruckus.
They stood quietly by Henry's side.
Come to think of it, I had even linked arms with him at the banquet.
Maybe he's getting attached to me after all.
After some light small talk, Henry took Dolda and withdrew from the audience chamber.
It seemed the purpose was to show off Dolda's new neck.
As I saw the two of them off, Grom cleared his throat.
"A-Are those two... quite alright?"
"As long as there's no real harm, it's fine. Leave them be."
"Y-Yes, understood."
They aren't committing any crimes or anything.
Letting them be is probably best.
As long as they don't commit atrocities like slaughtering their own subordinates, it doesn't matter.
"Demon Lord, you have a visitor!"
With that cheerful voice, Luciana arrived this time.
Accompanying her was the elf chief, Logan.
Logan approached right up to the side of the throne.
"It's been a while. How are you? I heard you defeated the Saint."
"I'm fine. What about you?"
"No problems. I'm being provided with a comfortable life. I have you to thank for that. I appreciate it."
Logan slowly bowed his head.
I quickly stopped him with a hand.
"Lift your head. You're not in a position to receive thanks."
"I see. Then perhaps prostrating myself on the floor would be more appropriate? A fitting attitude for one who submits."
Logan drops to one knee on the floor.
A faint smirk played upon his lips.
It was a subtle shift, the kind one might not notice without considerable familiarity, but I could see it all the same.
I had to ask.
"...Was that a joke?"
"Of course it was."
Logan answered as he rose to his feet.
It surprised me, because he wasn't the type to joke. In his case, it was often difficult to tell if he was serious or not. Those words, coming from Logan, could very well have been meant.
"Um... what did he just say...?"
"I won't repeat myself! Tonight, the Demon Lord has agreed to dine with me! There is no place for you here!"
Luciana and Grom were bickering.
Despite the content of their argument, the atmosphere was tense. Luciana, somehow flustered, tried to retort with a vexed look.
"B-But the Demon Lord is kind, so maybe he'll prioritize me—"
"You fool, do you not understand the concept of 'turn'? The one who agreed first naturally has priority. Succubus, you have been defeated by me!"
"Noooooo!"
At Grom's triumphant declaration, Luciana screamed and collapsed.
What on earth was going on?
I couldn't quite tell.
By the way, the dinner invitation was meant to be an experiment regarding the sense of taste in the undead.
Both Grom and I are fundamentally unable to eat or drink.
Nor can we taste anything.
The goal, therefore, was to find some way to experience taste.
As of now, spicy food seemed the most promising lead.
Spiciness stimulates the sense of pain rather than taste per se.
Tonight, I had summoned Grom to put this to the test.
He had apparently interpreted that loosely and was bragging to Luciana about it.
"Your subordinates are as noisy as ever. Good to see them in high spirits, though."
"...Sorry about that."
I apologized to a thoroughly exasperated Logan.
Being called out like that all over again made me realize just how embarrassing some of it was.
That said, the two of them were by no means on bad terms.
When they had fought the Holy Staff Nation's forces, Luciana had taken charge of healing the reinforcements that had been teleported in.
Naturally, Grom had been among them.
She had worked with utter dedication, scooping their crumbling lives back from the brink.
As a result, every single person who had still been alive at that point survived without exception.
It was all thanks to her, truly.
"Anyway, I'm glad to see you in good spirits. If anything else comes up, just say the word. I'll help without hesitation."
"That's a relief. I'm counting on you."
Logan lightly slapped my shoulder before leaving the room.
He was probably going to handle his business in the Royal Capital after this.
As a clan leader, he was perpetually busy. His involvement with the Demon King's Army had only made it worse.
This time, he must have squeezed in a quick stop to greet me during his limited free time.
Hearing about the clash with the Holy Staff Army, he’d grown concerned.
He might seem aloof on the surface, but beneath that, he was a man who cared for his friends.
I layered my gratitude upon his kindness.
"Well then, I'm scheduling a meal with the Demon King too! I'm claiming you from morning to night tomorrow!"
"What!? Successive days is unfair! At least alternate with me!"
Luciana and Grom were still arguing.
It had a feeling it might escalate.
I could probably mediate and stop them, but I felt somewhat disinclined.
(The ability to bicker like this was a fortunate state of affairs.)
I had killed the Hero, destroyed the Empire, and led to the Holy Maiden's death.
The conflict with the Holy Staff Nation would undoubtedly continue.
A nation that had lost its Holy Maiden and suffered a blow to its pride would surely be contemplating retaliation.
When this war of bloodletting will end, I cannot say.
Reaching a deadlock still feels like a distant prospect.
For now, the cycle of killing between nations will surely repeat.
I wish to reduce the conflicts between humans and bring about peace.
Yet, as I harbor such thoughts while I orchestrate slaughter, I am undeniably steeped in contradiction.
However, I intend to accept that and press onward.
My evil will continue to reign over this world.
Even if humanity rejects it, I will crush all resistance.
That is the redemption permitted to me, and my most sinful mission.