Demon Lord, Retry! Volume 3

by Kurone Kanzaki

  “Let’s rest for the night and head to the Bastille Dungeon tomorrow.”

  “...I would happily be imprisoned with you, Mister Fox.”

  “I should have asked you this sooner... How old are you, exactly?”

  “...Just turned sixteen. Mikan’s a year older than me.”

  “What a baby,” the Demon Lord mumbled.

  From his perspective, at the high-school-graduating age of eighteen, he could see only a glimpse of maturity. He wouldn’t consider anyone under twenty to be a fully-fledged adult.

  “Well, kid. Play hard, eat a ton, and work on yourself while you’re still young.”

  Grabbing Yukikaze by her collar, he carried her out of the room like he would a cat. With a quick wave, he then relentlessly slammed the door in her face. In spite of this beautiful girl(?)’s advances, the Demon Lord didn’t even go for a nibble of the bait. On the other hand...

  “...Mister Fox does really care about me.”

  Yukikaze’s misunderstandings were compounding. In her mind, their feelings for each other were mutual. Time and time again the Demon Lord had suggested that through actions like this. At this point, she had begun imagining their wedding. If the Demon Lord were to find out, he would be astounded. Just as his willpower was strong, so was Yukikaze’s. Who knew where this tug-of-war was headed?

  ——The next morning

  Mikan woke up on time, got ready, and left the room. She was emphatic about punctuality, and made sure to be ten minutes early to everything. She was a rare specimen among the majority of tardy adventurers. Her discipline aided in her raising the difficult-to-wield longsword to the Master Level, as well as climb the ladder to become a B-rank adventurer.

  “That Demon Lord better be up by now...”

  Already irritated, Mikan headed towards the Demon Lord’s room. While her stoic self and the mischievous Demon Lord were never destined to get along, he saw her as an easy target for mockery.

  (If he’s still snoring in there, I’ll kick the pillow out from under his head...)

  As she reached the door and held up her fist to knock, she could hear two voices from within. The frown on her forehead slightly lessened.

  (At the very least, he seems punctual.)

  However, there was something strange about the conversation she could overhear.

  “Hm. I didn’t expect so much to come out. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “...So much white stuff... Mister Fox... It’s too much...”

  “Nonsense. I’m far from satisfied.”

  Whap! Whap! A forceful sound — that seemed to pound on Mikan’s insides — could be heard. She rushed to open the door.

  “What are you two doing!?”

  The Demon Lord was beating the dust out of the mattress by the window. An awkward silence filled the room.

  “Just dusting the mattress... What did you think we were doing?”

  “...Mister Fox is a Demon Lord in the bedroom.”

  “You and your phrases!”

  And so, the bizarre trio embarked on their way to the dungeon. The Demon Lord was about to pop his dungeon-crawling cherry...

  * * *

  Mikan

  Race: Human — Age: 17

  * * *

  Weapon Ogreblade

  A longsword previously held by an ogre variant. Mikan has attached numerous Spell Stones to increase its weight. Its destructive powers are top-notch, and no one could doubt Mikan’s swordswomanship for being able to wield such a weapon.

  Item Scarlet Panther

  A high-class armor made from the hide of a red panther. Very flexible and non-impeding, it absorbs a lot of damage from blunt and cutting attacks.

  * * *

  Level: 12 — HP: ? — Stamina: ? — Attack: 15 (+15) — Defense: 10 (+10) — Dexterity: 20 — Magic: 3 — Magic Defense: 5 (+5)

  * * *

  A four-star, B-rank adventurer. In a world where most adventurers are Rookies, she sticks out against the crowd. She has learned various longsword skills through her large amount of combat experience. One couldn’t ask for much more from a frontline warrior. Her favorite food? Tangerines (or mikan, in Japanese). Her least favorite person? The Demon Lord.

  The Line

  ——Fort Arthur, on the border of the Republic of Edogawa.

  In addition to being the home of the Bastille Dungeon, the first destination of most adventurers, the Republic of Edogawa had another important characteristic: the fact that they were the neighbor of Animania, home to various demi-human species. Animania was formed not only by Animas, but also from a melting pot of elves, dwarfs, giants, and many other species.

  While Edogawa’s fort on the border was manned by numerous soldiers, there wasn’t really a defense to speak of on the Animania’s side of the border, only an expansive forest. They didn’t consider any invasion by humans to be much of a threat. In fact, their physical and magical capacities, as well as their weapons and armor, were on another level from those of their human neighbors.

  It was another day of complaining for the soldiers guarding the border.

  “Dammit. I can’t wait to go back to Doyle.”

  “You said it. We could drop dead any day out here.”

  While the town of Doyle behind them had all the entertainment facilities they could want, they were at a frontline base. Brothels and bars could only be found in their daydreams. Those kinds of things were taboo at this active stronghold.

  Now a pair of Star Players had paid them a visit: Mynk, the S-rank adventurer, and Olgan, the Hellion.

  “I thought we were going to relax at Suneo...”

  “Sorry. We need to deal with this, first.”

  “You know I broke all sorts of bones, right?”

  “Hurry up and heal them, then.”

  While Mynk complained, Olgan was having none of it. In the meantime, a group of demi-humans had appeared, parting the thick forest. If the Star Players weren’t there, the fortress would have erupted in panic. Olgan jumped off the side of the fortress and approached the group. Mynk silently followed. The group was comprised of a Minotaur with large horns protruding from their head, and a dwarf. While Mynk and Olgan couldn’t see them, they could sense more figures further into the woods. Stroking his beard, the dwarf stuck out his hand.

  “Where’s the stuff, lass?”

  “Here.”

  She produced some things from her bag (Mr. Handy). The dwarf inspected them for a while by tapping them with his finger and holding them up to the light before giving a nod.

  “These are it. Claws of a Molten Eater and fangs of a Catberus.”

  The demi-human residents of Animania, for the most part, disliked humans and hated Hellions. While humans were endlessly enchanted by the craftsmanship of dwarves and elves, the same could not be said for the other way around. This was simply because of the gap in their products’ quality, in addition to the difference in currency. Naturally, trading proved to be difficult under these conditions. The only exception that held any sort of value for the residents of Animania were monster parts that could not be obtained in their own country. Of course, every part they wanted had to be harvested from extremely dangerous creatures which only a handful of humans in the entire world could hunt. These two Star Players were on that very short list. The dwarf turned his head toward the forest behind him; a cat folk, with cat ears and tail, and a giant emerged. The soldiers murmured at the sight of them, and Mynk whispered into Olgan’s ear.

  “Hey, why are they always together?”

  “Drinking buddies.”

  “Then, can’t we just bring them alcohol?”

  “Apparently our spirits are undrinkable to them.”

  “Seriously, where do they get off...?”

  “Dwarves have always been picky about food and drink.”

  Mynk’s impression of the demi-humans, who looked down on humans as inferior, was not favorable. Olgan, on the other hand, seemed to value this trade, and kept a straight face.

 
; “Hey, cat. The rest is your job.”

  “Be sure to give mew some drinks later, old man! Fire Drink and Thunder Water, too.”

  “Shit, Thunder Water, too...? You got some thick skin, you know that?”

  “I’m a cat, after all. Of course I have thick fur.”

  The cat and the dwarf argued for a minute. When they settled down, the girl with cat ears approached the humans.

  “The same topic, purr usual?”

  “Yes.”

  The cat whispered something into Olgan’s ear. Olgan nodded at times, and grunted or sighed heavily at other times.

  “Its powers are growing...”

  “Yep. I’m feline bad for you!” the cat said casually and retreated into the forest. The rest of the party followed without a word. The meeting concluded with a cut-and-dry silence, no greetings. Olgan fell deep in thought when Mynk gently tapped her shoulder.

  “So, did you get the info you wanted?”

  “...Yeah.”

  “Let’s go. No sense standing around here.”

  “Where to?”

  “Let’s catch a break at Doyle. The black phoenix that slumbers in my right eye whispers the same to me.”

  “Right. Black phoenix, huh? You just want to sleep in a warm bed.”

  Mynk and Olgan’s exchange continued as normal.

  “Oh, speaking of... apparently the paladin boy’s in this country.”

  “Hmph, that hypocrite. It’s never enough...”

  “Come on, it’s cute. Thanks to people like him, my darkness has a chance to shine.”

  Olgan rolled her eyes before floating up in the air. Mynk jumped her way up onto the fortress, and the pair started on their way to the town of Doyle.

  The Bastille Dungeon — Level 1

  (It’s crowded... but the energy isn’t bad.)

  The Demon Lord cracked a smile upon seeing the bustling plaza. Some were yelling into the crowd to sell food or drink, some had herbs laid out for sale, and some were even recruiting party members to go into the dungeon with. The Bastille Dungeon was at the center of the city, surrounded by the town. It was no exaggeration to say that the dungeon itself was the economic engine of the area and a business in its own right. Where people gathered, all sorts of business opportunities were born.

  “The entry fee was one gold medallion, right?”

  “That’s right. And the government takes 10% of the revenue you earn from selling the items and monster parts down there... Just talking to myself, by the way.”

  “10% isn’t too unfair for a tax. Rather reasonable, in fact.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re risking our lives every time we go in... Still talking to myself, though!”

  As he overheard Mikan “talking to herself,” the Demon Lord realized that this dungeon was a money-printing machine for the country. Various items and monsters replenished themselves in the dungeon, so the government was reaping a killing in tax revenue by having adventurers do all of the legwork hunting and collecting them. They weren’t hiring these adventurers in any capacity, so it wasn’t the state’s problem if any of them were to get injured or died. The adventurers were practically a colony of ants raking in money for the government until death.

  (Even the supply of adventurers is automatically replenished...)

  The Demon Lord formed this kind of impression, but he didn’t say it out loud for fear of insulting many of the adventurers there. This time, he asked Yukikaze about something he was wondering.

  “You said most of the Northern Nations have at least one of these dungeons or ruins, right?”

  “...Mm-hm. Many places are much more dangerous than here.”

  “I see. That’s how they can be at war all year long.”

  “...What do you mean?”

  “A source of income, I should say. Never mind.”

  Since monster hides, horns, fangs, tails, and things of that nature were valuable, these dungeons were like an endless goldmine. As they approached the entrance of the dungeon, he could see numerous shops crowded together, vitalizing the area despite the early hour. A branch of the Adventurers’ Guild stood closest to the entrance, accompanied by the tax collector’s office right next to it. It seemed that dungeon-crawlers would come out of the dungeon and immediately sell the loot at the guild.

  (This is a straight-up day-labor site.)

  With no kind of social security to speak of, the crawlers earned only from their day labor, paying taxes on the spot. The Demon Lord could imagine that any money left over from their loot disappeared on booze, women, clothes, and the like. This might have been a fine lifestyle for the young and healthy, but when the adventurers grew older, injured, or ill, they would no longer have the ability to dungeon-crawl. Of course, neither the Adventurers’ Guild nor the government would lend a helping hand at that point.

  “No surprise that a bunch of them retire, never getting past the Rookie stage. They’re just laborers with no prospects for the future.”

  “...You’re right, Mister Fox, but adventurers can win big, too.”

  “Like finding a rare item?”

  “...Mm-hm. I know some people who’ve won big and bought a house or a farm.”

  (Playing the lottery with your life until you’re ground down to the bone... Not that I don’t appreciate that kind of lifestyle.)

  At the end of the day, the Demon Lord didn’t dislike the ‘go big or go home’ mentality. That’s why he had poured so much detail into the casino, which was extraneous to the game, and repeatedly updated it. His excessive work and gambling spirit was epitomized in the most difficult game of chance in the casino. If a player had won at that game, that week’s Game would have ended then and there, providing the winner with a special ending and liberating all of the players. That being said, not a single person had managed to win at that game...

  “A lot of them have large bags or boxes on them.”

  They were shouting out prices like ‘six bronze medallions!’ Some were approached by adventurers and negotiating.

  “Who are they, Mikan?”

  “Don’t say my name... Those are porters. They carry your loot.”

  “Hm. So you can make them carry the load.”

  “The good ones can take apart monsters, too, so they can get pretty expensive. If you want one, you’re paying for them.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  The Demon Lord could throw as many items as he wanted into the Item Folder. It was as if he had a pocket that connected to another dimension. Technically, each player in the game could only hold up to ten items, excluding their equipment. They could carry five by default, and could add on up to another five (one at a time) by purchasing Back-up Back Packs at the shops. On the other hand, the advisors of the Sleepless Castle held ninety-five of the Back-up Back Packs from the start of the game, allowing them to hold a total of one hundred items.

  (Even the Back-up Back Packs act like their design...)

  Just as it was for Bases, the Back-up Back Pack ignored the size and mass of the item. One could easily throw a pick-up truck into one of those. When that kind of effect came to life, what else could one describe it as other than magic?

  (Now, let’s farm SP off some monsters. I doubt I’ll come across a magical item here.)

  It was a rookie dungeon, after all. The Demon Lord’s objective for this expedition was to become accustomed to the dungeon itself, as well as with the adventurers around him. He didn’t know the next time when he would get to dungeon-crawl with a party. Part of it was that he had to keep up appearances if one of his advisors or the kids happened to tag along.

  “Oh, and you’re acting as a porter.”

  “That’s my role?”

  “...Because you’re not registered as an adventurer, Mister Fox.”

  “Can’t be helped. Let’s go with that for the time being.”

  “Oh, and you’re going to carry as much as we tell you to!” Mikan triumphantly declared in an attempt to retaliate for all of the stress he had
caused her.

  “Porter, huh...? You can leave it to me.”

  “I’ll show you what it means to be an adventure...err!!?”

  The Demon Lord pulled Mikan close by her waist before picking her up under his arm and walking on. Considering that Mikan was carrying a longsword, this would not have been an easy feat for someone with ordinary strength.

  “L-Let me go! I-I didn’t tell you to carry me!”

  “...You’re dead, Mikan.”

  ——B1 Level of the Bastille Dungeon

  (This is a dungeon, huh...? Wonder who made this thing...)

  The party was greeted with a passage after descending the long flight of stairs from the dungeon’s entrance. It seemed like a mine shaft dug ages ago, like a stereotypical cave in fantasy pieces. Besides, the pathway was wide enough to fit twenty men shoulder-to-shoulder. Who could have made this place? That question kept coming back to the Demon Lord.

  “Mikan, how long has this dungeon been around, anyway?”

  “Grr!”

  Mikan growled towards the Demon Lord. She seemed to be on edge after he carried her under his arm a minute ago. Mikan prided herself in her physical strength, and she couldn’t even put up a fight against him. Part of it, surely, was humiliation.

  “There’s not much to fear when there are so many people.”

  Since a large number of adventurers had poured into the dungeon, it seemed more like a crowded tourist destination than the beginning of an adventure. While they were still on the first level, the atmosphere was far from that of a life-risking endeavor.