“A fragment is but that: a fragment. A lacking existence. When all are gathered, I shall achieve it. I shall become the complete and undefeatable Primeval Demon Lord!”
“Nonsense. What’s the point of becoming complete and invincible if all you can think of is killing the races?”
“Nay. The meaning to it all is clear.”
“Oh?”
“It is the exertion of power in and of itself that has endless value.”
“...This Demon Lord has no idea what you just said. It sounds like you’re going on a rampage just because you can. You’re nothing more than an animal.”
“As a result...this world will continue to exist.”
“What’s the point of existing if there are no biscuits?!”
“Join me, and we shall become a complete existence.” Modinaram raised both hands.
“I refuse!” Klem stuck out her tongue. “If I join you, this Demon Lord won’t be this Demon Lord anymore.”
“There is no value in an incomplete individual!”
“This Demon Lord is already complete, perfect and invincible!”
“Krebskulm... Unawakened as you are, you will never best me.”
Modinaram activated its magic. A shining sphere appeared in its hands, which were held toward the sky. The area was awash with blinding light, as if the ball were a small sun. Modinaram swung down its arms. It was Falling Skies, a spell the Demon Lord of the Heart, Kardia, once used. It was like the sun was descending on them from the heavens.
Klem clenched her teeth. “Disappear!”
Klem brandished her fist, unleashing a second Infinity Detonation at the ball of light bearing down on her. The two powerful spells clashed, the air burning, the ground trembling.
“You are feeble, Krebskulm.” Modinaram’s goat-like eyes narrowed.
“Wh-What?!”
“Know the might of my magic!”
“Ngh?!”
Modinaram weaved more magic as the two spells clashed. For Demon Lords, magic constantly welled up from within them; they could never run out of magical energy. But there was a limit to how much they could emit at any given moment. Modinaram’s capacity was especially beyond measuring—several times that of Krebskulm’s.
Klem was being pushed back easily, the light from the enemy’s spell consuming her.
“Aaaaaah?!” she screamed as searing pain burned through her limbs.
An explosion. Emile took cover behind the rubble, but a few unfortunate regional knights were caught in the blast and blown away. The shock waves alone were that powerful. The wind blew away the smoke, revealing Klem, lying down on the charred earth.
“Aaah... Guh... Uuu...”
Cracks ran across her body. Her normally fair, soft, and supple skin looked like a fractured egg. Modinaram stood beside her.
“This is all the Demon Lord of the Soul, Krebskulm, the one sung as the strongest, can achieve when unawakened.”
“He ordered...this Demon Lord... He entrusted this to me!”
“Hmm...?”
“I can’t...lose!”
Punching into the ground, she leapt up and unleashed a kick that grazed against the ground; she aimed at her enemy’s legs. Her kick connected, but it was tough. She didn’t even break its posture.
“You realize you cannot defeat me in magic, so you turn to physical combat...? Then know, dear Krebskulm, the power of the Demon Lord of the Hand, Hattjabul.”
As it spoke, it delivered a kick to Klem’s flank, who was squatting close to the ground.
“Gyah?!”
The speed of the kick seemed like it would blow her back, but Klem surprisingly stayed in one place, as if she’d been sown into the ground. Modinaram delivered another strike, this time using its hand with its straight fingers sinking into Klem’s stomach. Modinaram’s spear-like digits were dug beside Klem’s navel.
“Aaaaaah?!”
“All too brittle.”
“Gaah... Uuu... Ugh...”
Klem grabbed Modinaram’s arm with both hands, trying to pull out its fingers—but they didn’t budge.
“The awakened Krebskulm is protected by the armor of Wings of Light. I crave it...the ability of your body.”
“Uu... Guh... Fool... This Demon Lord will not submit!”
“Your will matters not.”
Modinaram fired magic from its fingers, still stabbed into Klem’s stomach. Entrails burst out of Klem’s back with a popping sound.
“Gah!” Klem collapsed to the ground powerlessly, red spreading out beneath her, a fist-sized hole in her stomach.
†
“Demon Looord!” Edelgard rushed forward, her horseback spear in hand, with a speed that put Ryoka to shame.
“Oh.” Modinaram cut the tip of the approaching spear between two of its fingers. That alone rendered Edelgard immobile as if she’d stabbed it into a brick wall. She tried pulling and pushing it with all her might, but to no avail.
“Uuu... Won’t move... Hah?!”
“A Fallen opposing the Demon Overlord? Impudence.”
“Edelgard swore, fealty? Fealty! To Krebskulm!”
“Very well then.” Modinaram brandished its other hand upward. A pitch black sword appeared in its light. It was similar to the Sword of Light Galford used earlier, but it was different not just in color, but in size. It was a deep black broadsword.
“The Godslayer Sword?!” Edelgard said through shivering lips, looking up at the blade swung aloft.
“If self-sacrifice is your wish...” The sword swung down on Edelgard.
But the moment before—a sword crashed against Modinaram’s flank.
“I will defend! All women!”
In Emile’s hands was a Sword of Light he’d borrowed from Galford. He slashed again. He didn’t think it’d do anything, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He could at least buy Edelgard time to escape.
“Lightning Shot Magnum!” Laminitus provided him with covering fire.
The bullets all hit their mark, but for Modinaram it was all as if a light breeze had brushed against him. He swung his pitch black longsword horizontally.
“Death to the races!”
The broadsword, Godslayer, transformed into several projectiles, each one of them powerful and deadly accurate. Emile took one to his right shoulder, his golden armor having been penetrated easily, and a burning pain ran through his body.
“Gaaah...?!” He fell to his knees. A large amount of blood sprayed from the joints of his armor. He couldn’t feel his right shoulder; he didn’t even know if his arm was still attached.
“Not yet!” Emile gripped the sword that had dropped from his right hand with his left. As he tried rising up, his right leg was cut completely through.
“Kah?!”
Everything below his knee was gone. All he could do was crawl on the ground. Even if he could numb the pain with sheer resolve, there was no way he could stand with his leg gone.
It was cold. He was vividly aware of his body temperature dropping rapidly; he was losing too much blood.
“Guuh... Healing...Turon!”
Picking up his body with his left hand, Emile shouted behind him. But upon turning around, he was met with the sight of a healer lying against the rubble, struck by one of the Demon Overlord’s projectiles.
What about Edelgard?!
She stood with her hand spread out, shielding Klem from the projectiles. Even after being hit by a few attacks, she was still on her feet. She was as strong as one might expect of a high-ranking Fallen.
“Haa, haa...” But her breaths proclaimed she had no strength left to fight.
Klem, who lay behind Edelgard, wasn’t completely demolished, but was nonetheless in a state where it was hard to tell if she was even conscious. Did Demon Lords turn into particles of light when they were defeated, like the Fallen? Or did they leave behind corpses, like the races? Emile didn’t know. There was also the chance Klem was already long dead.
We’re wiped out...
The thought scrat
ched at his heart. The fighting spirit that had kept him standing up every time, even when he was knocked down, was dying with his teammates.
“Did I...fail to protect...again?” Emile’s body shivered.
Just like that, he fell face first onto the ground...
Im! Possible! I won’t forgive myself for this!
“Ooooooh!”
Stabbing his sword into the ground, he rose up with the strength of his one arm. Blood spurted from his wounds, but the pain was all gone. His eyesight was clouded over.
“Demon Overloooooord!”
Someone stood before it.
“I will never...fall!” Emile shouted.
His left hand pulled the sword from the ground. He slashed at his opponent even as it fell forward. But the swing was far too weak...
Someone’s hands reached out to Emile.
Why am I...so weak?!
Those big hands hugged his shoulders. Large, strong, bold hands.
An ally?!
A presence Emile was all too familiar with...
“Is that goat-headed gorilla Modinaram?” the figure asked with a tone that was far too calm for this battlefield.
Hearing this voice, Emile’s whited-out eyes cleared, revealing the face of the one standing before him.
“I’ve waited for you, my bosom friend...”
†
It looks completely different from the game, Diablo thought as he gazed at the enemy standing before him. The Demon Lord of Madness, Modinaram, that had appeared in Cross Reverie had a skinny body with a goat’s head. After defeating its first form, it transformed and its torso became like that of a black squid’s. But the Modinaram here had the torso of a muscular gorilla and seemed adept at melee combat.
“Use the potions I gave you earlier.” Diablo left Emile to Shera, while staying vigilant of the enemy.
“Y-Yeah!”
“Take care of the others, too.”
“Right, I’m on it!” Shera nodded deeply. She took a few tubes from her pouch—HP potions. They were SR rarity items, but they should be able to heal even those who were critically wounded.
Rem, on the other hand, was headed in Klem and Edelgard’s direction.
Did we make it in time?
Edelgard hadn’t been slain yet, so they should be fine. But what about Klem? What happened to Demon Lords when they died? In Cross Reverie, they just crumbled away slowly. In that case, the fact that Klem still maintained her shape meant she was still alive. He’d have to believe that for now.
Diablo turned his attention toward the enemy that was, in all likelihood, Modinaram.
“Hmph... You ran quite wild in my absence, didn’t you?”
“And who are you?” It tilted its black goat head.
In-game, Modinaram had a lanky torso and limbs...but absorbing the other Demon Lords had apparently changed his appearance. It was four meters tall right now, and had a gorilla’s muscular body with a black goat’s head. Diablo couldn’t spot any damage on it.
It fought not only Galford and Emile, but Klem, too, and took basically no damage...
It was unmistakably a formidable foe. But Diablo was acting out the part of a Demon Lord. His true self couldn’t hope to stand up to such a scary monster, and would probably run away from the fight, shutting himself away at home.
But now I’m a Demon Lord! A Demon Lord of overwhelming power! And that’s why...
“Modinaram, I will grant you a punishment worthy of your foolish disrespect! Know the judgment of the true Demon Lord!”
“The Demon Overlord, showing disrespect... True Demon Lord?”
“Heheheh... You claim the title of Demon Overlord yet do not know of me? Your ignorance knows no bounds!”
It was natural it wouldn’t know of Diablo, since he was only of the races claiming to be a Demon Lord...but this bravado was also part of his role play.
“What manner of being are you?” Modinaram inquired.
“Ahahaha! I am Diablo, a Demon Lord from another world!”
“Nay...” Modinaram shook his head. “You are no Demon Lord.”
“You are simply incapable of gauging my being! Learn the true extent of my power, on your very flesh!”
Diablo transformed his staff into a sword—the Tonnerre Empereur: Libre. It had an effect that multiplied attacks by seven, which applied to melee combat as well. However, it made Diablo’s MP consumption skyrocket.
Rem and Shera had already distanced themselves and the injured from Diablo and Modinaram. It appeared this was all the time he’d need to buy by talking. He took the initiative.
“White Nova!” He fired a grand spell he’d prepared ahead of time.
From how badly battered the terrain was, Modinaram didn’t have any magic reflection ability. It may have had a magic damage reduction ability, but just confirming that much was enough. After all, if he could just force Modinaram to counterattack with a powerful spell of its own, Diablo would be able to deflect it and take control of the situation.
The flashes of the White Nova spell disappeared. As always, it caused massive damage to the terrain, carving out the ground. Modinaram’s form was changing once more. Black, raven-like wings burst from its back, which were folded inward to block the spell.
But it wasn’t unharmed. Modinaram’s wings were tattered and torn. Cracks ran across its solid body.
Yes! I can damage it with magic!
Diablo’s lips curled up.
“Such magical power...” The black goat head’s eyes widened.
“Heh... Surprisingly soft, aren’t you, Modinaram?”
“Diablo... Oh, Diablo... How I crave it, that magical power!”
Modinaram’s eyes widened so much it seemed its eyeballs, which glared in crimson, might roll out of their sockets. Unleashing an animalistic roar, Modinaram rushed at Diablo.
It’s fast...
The Demon Overlord moved so fast it was impossible to follow its motions. It then extended its spear-like fingers to pierce Diablo’s abdomen...or they would have, had Diablo not recently leveled up.
“You really are quick!” Diablo just barely evaded the charge.
It wasn’t a speed Diablo couldn’t keep up with as he was now. However, Modinaram’s hand had bent at an unnatural angle, still flying in Diablo’s direction.
“You shan’t escape!”
“What?!”
A slash brushed away Modinaram’s extended fingers. Sasara had stepped in between them, wielding a katana with the symbol of the crescent moon etched into its pommel.
It was the martial art, Crushing Claw. Four of Modinaram’s fingers fell to the ground.
“An injury, upon my flesh?!”
A true display of a swordmaster’s strength. Sasara stood at Diablo’s side.
“Be careful, Diablo... It feels like its fists have the effects of the martial art Sure Hit on them.”
There was no sign of it using a martial art, though. In which case, was it perpetually active?
“Hmm... Come to think of it, the Demon Lord of the Hand, Hattjabul, had the martial arts Sure Hit and Sure Kill perpetually activated.”
“Martial arts can remain activated?!”
“And it had Rampart, too... But seeing as both swords and magic work on Modinaram, I’m guessing that’s already been broken. His damage reduction is limited to a certain number of uses, after all.”
“To know this much, you...” Modinaram narrowed its eyes. “Nay... You are no Demon Lord. Who are you?”
“Hmph...”
Just your ordinary, socially-inept gamer!
“I am the true Demon Lord!”
Just then, Rose the magimatic maid stepped forward, her double-headed sword at the ready.
“Judging the strength of Master’s subordinates, it is evident that Master is superior to you.”
Rose was equal to a level 150 warrior, and Sasara, who was standing beside Diablo, was level 200.
“Ah, erm...I’m not his subordinate, but rather his teacher... A
h, n-no, never mind...” Sasara looked slightly displeased.
The Fallen Modinaram had led to this battlefield were all observing the current battle from the sidelines. Eulerex was there as well, but still took on the form of a giant owl. Ryoka was gone, someone Diablo was cautious of since she seemed both strong and aggressive. But had someone beat her already...? Whatever the case, no Fallen interfered in Diablo’s battle with Modinaram.
It felt odd. Diablo had always fought alone, but now he had companions by his side. His subordinates, companions, teacher... Diablo wasn’t sure how to define them, but whatever they were, he could depend on them.
I’m not used to this yet, but...it doesn’t feel too bad.
Now he could focus on weaving his spells. Diablo drank an MP potion, as those seven castings of White Nova earlier had consumed most of his magical energy.
†
“Klem, you have to come to!” Rem cried out.
Taking their distance from where Diablo and the others were fighting, they retreated back to the city’s gate. To be exact, it was the western gate, which was now reduced to a pile of rubble. Rem did feel pathetic for being too weak to fight alongside Diablo, but this wasn’t the time to occupy herself with such concerns.
Lying around them were grievously wounded allies, as well as some who’d already stopped moving. Rem and Shera were likely the only ones around who were unharmed.
We have to save as many of them as possible!
There were multiple cracks running across Klem’s body. Just picking her up gave Rem the impression she might crumble at any second. There was also the hole piercing through her stomach. The state she was in was so grave Rem had to question despairingly if she might already be dead.
“...Rem...” Klem’s small eyelids fluttered open sluggishly.
“Klem! You’re alive!”
“No... This Demon Lord was...beaten. I cannot be...restored.”
“No! No, that can’t be! See, I have an HP potion Diablo gave me!”
Rem tiled the tube, pouring the liquid through Klem’s small lips. Her mouth slackened, and cracks ran across her lips.
“There’s no use...the potions of the races...do not work on a Demon Lord. The very sight, or sound...of a miracle of God...is despicable...”
“But...”
“A Demon Lord is a solitary existence... We can only be healed...by our own magical energy...”
How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 9 Page 7
