Basically, this meant that if you used Fire elemental magic against a Water-elemental monster, then the power of that spell should be drastically reduced. That is what he wanted to confirm.
Diablo pointed his staff at one of the Water Spirits.
“Burst to pieces. ‘Explosion!’”
The resulting explosion caused by his magic hit the Water Spirit.
His conclusion—it was too weak to be used to gauge the effects of elemental affinities.
The Explosion that Diablo unleashed not only hit the Water Spirit he was aiming for, but engulfed the other Summons in the area as well.
On top of that, the after-effects of the explosion had gouged out the stone tiles from the ground, breaking them into pieces and sending them flying.
Not only did they strike walls of the buildings facing the street, but they even struck Galluk and the other robed members of his group.
Luckily, no one was dead... But the Summons had been completely wiped out.
—Well that was a failure. I guess I should’ve tried using a weaker spell on them.
Galluk sank to the ground, unable to stand up any longer.
“De... Destroyed... They were all destroyed...in one shot?”
His robed companions were in a miserable state. Some were crying, some letting out strange voices, some were venting their anger at Galluk, and some were just plain dazed.
Despite the fact that they were the lowest level Summons you could get, it seemed they had thought them to be powerful enough to take pride in them.
—You could pass that level just by playing the game for a week, though...
He understood that everything here couldn’t even be called an experiment.
They shouldn’t come looking for a fight with him again after a thrashing like that.
—Let’s just think of that as a good thing, that’s one less annoyance to have to deal with.
As Diablo went to leave, unexpectedly, Galluk called out to him.
“Wh-Who... Just who are you!? This can’t be... Something like this...can’t be...”
—Who am I?
He had been summoned, but was not a Summon. Nor was he a denizen of this world.
He was planning on becoming an Adventurer, but right now was different.
Diablo loomed over them.
Covered in wounds and stupefied, fear ran through the group of robed underlings from the Mage’s Association.
He faced them with a devilish smile.
“I am ‘Diablo,’ a Demon Lord who has come from another world.”
†
Chapter 2: Trying to be an Adventurer
The next morning—
Diablo opened his eyes, light streaming through the window.
An unfamiliar ceiling and unfamiliar walls.
Everything was made from old wood that had been polished to a shine.
He must have kicked the blanket off himself at some point, since it wasn’t covering him.
Sleeping on a bed that was nothing but straw with some sheets on it felt better than he had thought it would, but it was still rough. Thanks to his highly durable body, it didn’t trouble him that much.
The smell of straw lingered in the air, but what concerned him was the slight scent of compost that came with it.
The sheets were made out of some kind of material that was completely different from wool or linen. It was rough and scratchy.
This was another world, one that closely resembled the MMORPG Cross Reverie.
He hadn’t awoken to find it had all been a dream, and that another day back in the real world was about to start.
—I really have come to another world.
His head still fuzzy as he thought this, he squinted his eyes at the morning light.
Though it was coming from a hole small enough that you couldn’t even stick your head out of, it was enough to brighten the room that had been pitch black since the lantern and candles had gone out.
He wasn’t even sure when he had drifted off to sleep.
He was certain that his standoff with the guys from the Mage’s Association had not been a dream.
His memories as he returned were fuzzy at best. He remembered that he made it back to his room and collapsed on the bed...
It was almost strange how tired he had been.
—It’s probably because of everything that happened yesterday...
He hadn’t felt hungry or tired yesterday, but that was probably because of the excitement of having come to another world. As of right now, he felt that he would slip right back to sleep if he laid down.
And he had felt the most tired after using his magic last night.
It wasn’t because he had taken damage. He was mentally exhausted.
It must have been because of all the MP I used—thought Diablo.
There were no numbers to confirm it like in the game, but it felt like he had built up some fatigue from using his magic.
—I wonder what would happen if I ran out.
All that would happen in game was he would be unable to use magic; and based on how tired he felt using it here, he felt like he wouldn’t .
Running out would be dangerous.
From now on, he would have to be more careful about managing his MP than he had back in Cross Reverie.
Diablo had enough MP to fire off close to one hundred “Explosions.” Well, he did in the game, at least.
—How much MP do I have right now?
If he was feeling tired after only a few shots, then getting close to a hundred was looking impossible.
Either way, he would have to look into this.
Avoiding high-level spells that used a lot of MP seemed like the best course of action. Using spells above level 100 would not only crank up the damage, but the MP cost as well.
—If last night was any indication, I don’t think there will be too many times where I’ll need to use that kind of magic.
—I wonder why Adventurers in this world are all lower levels than in the game?
Diablo had been wondering about it since his encounter with Galluk.
It would probably be best to look into this as well.
—I still don’t have enough information yet.
First, he would ask Rem and Shera for more information about what was going on.
Now that he thought about it, even though he was sharing a room with two girls and one bed—something that would have never happened to him in real life—he had slept like a baby.
He was so tired last night that he had ended up hogging the bed to himself, which made him feel kind of bad. Where had the two girls slept last night?
—Oh, that’s right... If I die, then the enslavement magic is supposed to wear off.
Had he been a bit careless? No, it seemed like the two of them needed Diablo around for one reason or another. That especially went for Rem, who had a reason to trust him, at least. And Shera didn’t seem like the kind of person who would straight-up murder him in his sleep.
“Guess I’ll look for those two first...”
Diablo let out a short sigh, then went to prop himself up with his arms.
*Squish*
*Squishidy squish*
He felt something soft.
Diablo recoiled in surprise. Even pillows back in the real world didn’t feel like this.
It almost felt like it was alive, and it was warm, too.
—It couldn’t be...
An impossible thought crossed his mind.
“...OK, me, just calm down. It’s not like this is an anime or a manga or anything. It’s too soon to be jumping to conclusions like that just because I happen to be sharing a room with two girls, who I don’t happen to see right now.”
—Let’s try checking it out.
He turned his gaze to look.
For the *squish*—it was from Rem, the Pantherian girl, who was only wearing a thin black outfit.
As for the *squishidy squish*—that was Shera, her voluptuous body covered only wi
th a loose fitting robe.
Though it was only on the outside of their clothes, Diablo’s right hand was on Rem’s chest, while his left was touching Shera’s.
He stopped breathing.
—Keep it together! Demon Lords don’t lose their cool!
He was suddenly sweating bullets.
As his mind was racing, he tried to figure out what to do next.
He would act proud and confident, just as a Demon Lord would!
—All right! Let’s get out of here quietly...
Truly a pitiful display on his part, but what was he supposed to do? Even though he called himself a Demon Lord, it was really just Demon Lord “roleplay.” He was not equipped to handle waking up sandwiched between two beautiful girls, hands on their chests, like it was a CG for some visual novel.
Diablo may have been a level 150 Sorcerer, but he had zero experience in skills for dealing with other people. And that went double for girls.
If he was going to make a great escape, he had to first take his hands off them.
—But he couldn’t do it.
It was as if he was being sucked in.
—What is this, some kind of adhesive?
—Is my heart refusing to let me take my hand away!?
He could feel the heat of the girls he was touching, how soft they were. The sweet scent they gave off was more than captivating enough to crush his will into pieces.
His fingers moved on their own.
He was starting to rub them, against his better judgment.
Rem was definitely about as moderate as she looked, with a bulge that was just barely sticking out. Maybe something on the verge of a bulge. Possibly the beginnings of a bulge? That was the feeling he was getting from it.
As for Shera... It was amazing. His fingers were actually sinking into it.
Despite the fact they were sinking, it also had an elasticity that pushed back against him.
Diablo was getting dizzy from its springiness, not to mention the volume that he could not fully grasp with his hand.
—Does this world not have underwear? Or do you take it off when you go to sleep?
He was getting an incredible amount of detail from where he was feeling, and there was no limit to the softness.
Only one piece of cloth.
This feeling... It must be because there was only one layer of clothing.
—Holy crap. I want to keep doing this forever.
Shera, who had been asleep, let out a yawn.
“Mm...fwah...”
Her body squirmed. Shera opened her eyes.
“Mmm... Huh? Diablo...?”
He went to take his hand off at lightspeed.
However, he wasn’t able to do it. Even in a situation like this!? Was this some kind of trap caused by magic!?
Shera tilted her head as she rubbed her eyes.
“Mm...mhm? For some reason, I feel a little...restless...”
She turned to look.
Diablo’s hand was gripping the right side of her chest.
Eyes wide, Shera turned to look at him.
While still grabbing her chest, Diablo opened his mouth.
“.........Ah.”
Not only had he been groping a girl’s chest while she was asleep, she had actually woken up. The Demon Lord had no idea what to say in response to this.
Shera was confused for a second, but had seemingly come to terms with her situation.
Her face became bright red right before his very eyes.
Right after that:
“I-I don’t think doing this is very good!”
Embarrassed, she glared at Diablo with upturned eyes.
“Ye...ah...”
If it wasn’t for his Demon Lord act, he wouldn’t be able to make conversation as his normal self. Which was what was happening now.
“Th-This kind of stuff is, um, you know... Something you do after getting to know each other better, and, erm... A-As long as you haven’t picked me as your master, then this is bad! OK!?”
“Y...eah...?”
He had heard that as “this is something you can do if you choose me as your Summoner.”
“Anyways, this kind of stuff is a no-go! It’s bad, bad, bad! It’s bad, OK!?”
“...Y-Yeah.”
“...N-No doing that anymore, OK?”
Shera pulled herself away, and Diablo’s hand was finally free of the sweet sensation it had been feeling... Though it was a somewhat reluctant farewell.
He was thankful from the bottom of his heart that Shera had forgiven him.
He was still unable to get back into his Demon Lord character, and wasn’t able to get the right words out to say anything back.
On Diablo’s right side, Rem was rubbing her eyes.
“...Mm...mh? It’s so noisy... What’s going on?”
“Uhm...”
“...Hm? It feels like there is something heavy...on my chest...?”
He had forgotten.
His left hand had been “busy” with Shera, and he had finally gotten it away from her—
But his right hand was still on Rem’s chest.
Even a high-level spell couldn’t have made Diablo as petrified as he was now.
Rem turned to look at her chest.
Silence.
Looking at his hand, her gaze followed along his arm, and then to his face.
Once more, she looked back to the hand, then to his face.
Her expression said it all.
He would have to say something here.
He would handle this with dignity and majesty, just like a Demon Lord would! Yes, dignity and majesty!
Diablo opened his mouth.
“Rem, stick out your chest out with pride! Even if it is just a little bulge, it is still your most valuable asset.”
—What the hell am I saying?
Rem’s high-pitched scream rang out in the early morning.
†
Back at the bar on the first floor of the inn—
Built with wood that had a glossy, smoky finish to it, this was where they had dined with Celes just yesterday.
Of course it operated as a bar in the evening, but you could also come here in the morning or lunchtime to grab a bite to eat.
Celes had managed to drive everyone away last night, but right now it was jam-packed with people.
Diablo, Rem, and Shera had somehow managed to grab a table and were sitting down for breakfast.
There were seven tables that could seat four people here, and a counter as well, but they had already been taken.
There were even people standing around and talking with each other, so it was pretty noisy.
—Everyone here’s a Demi.
Diablo tilted his head as he thought.
There were six races to choose from when first starting Cross Reverie:
Elf, Pantherian, Dwarf, Grasswalker, Demon, and Human.
All other races besides humans were called “Demi.”
According to Cross Reverie’s setting, some humans (usually aristocrats) would discriminate against Demis. The various troubles caused by this was used for several quests in the game.
There were many more types of Demis than humans, but humans were said to have made up half the population. Since they came with really good starting stats, there were lots of players who would go with Human as their race.
—The staff, even the customers here are all Demi... I wonder if it’s a coincidence?
Shera brought her face closer to his and started whispering.
“...Rem’s being pretty scary today.”
Rem was sitting in complete silence, stabbing her potatoes over and over again with her wooden fork... It was as if she had some kind of grudge against them.
Seems like she was still mad about what happened this morning.
Diablo, as he should, opened his mouth to apologize.
“Rem, about this morning...”
“...I’m not upset.”
The tone of her voice said otherwi
se.
“But, you know...”
“I am not upset. I’m not upset, so pick something else to talk about. Please.”
Stab, stab, stab.
Rem’s relentless fork assault was slowly turning the poor potato into a mashed potato.
She did seem like the type to seethe silently in anger.
That’s just the way that particular cookie crumbled, so he did as he was told and changed the topic.
“It seems that this inn only has Demis. I don’t see any Humans anywhere, why is that?”
“...Humans do not stay in Demi inns.”
Maybe it was because she was in the middle of murdering her potato, or maybe it was because she always said everything in a calm and collected tone of voice, but he had a hard time understanding what she meant.
“Hm... So there are inns for Demis in this world?”
Even if the game said that someone was “discriminated against” or “hated by many,” there was never any actual discrimination found in the game.
It was true that there were certain NPCs in quests who would talk like racists; but it should go without saying that everyone who played Cross Reverie was human. With all the roleplays he had come across, he had never seen anyone try to even pretend to discriminate against Demis.
It seemed there was a bigger gap between Humans and Demis in this world.
—Seems like it’d be smart to be wary of Humans here.
Being hurt for no reason was the very definition of discrimination.
It was probably a different story if you were a Demi with special circumstances, like Rem.
—So the soul of the Demon Lord Krebskulm is sealed inside her...
Diablo stared at the Pantherian girl.
Noticing this, Rem quickly covered her chest with her hands.
—It wasn’t like I was looking there, OK!? Well, I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened this morning, nothing I could say would have any sway. Of course she’d be on guard.
Putting that aside, he just remembered something Galluk said that had been bothering him. He had used the word “level.”
“Hey, you two. Do you use ’Levels’ as the way to measure your power here?”
How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 1 Page 10
