The Old Retainer’s Wish

As I continued handling dispatched summons, I spent my days checking on the growth of my companions—or rather, perhaps it was about time I properly called them my subordinates, if only to make the distinction clear.

At any rate, that was how my days went.

Bella was still overwhelmingly the strongest among my subordinates, and as the longest-serving member, she also looked out for everyone else.

Pisca had continued refining her abilities, and astonishingly, she had even developed the ability to grow to roughly the size of an ordinary human, albeit only for a very short time.

That said, since she was fragile to begin with, making her body larger only made her somewhat less vulnerable for now.

Anis had steadily improved all her abilities in a well-balanced manner, and she had even acquired the power to cross between worlds, though only to worlds she had previously visited.

Of course, since she received no payment for manifesting there, she couldn’t remain indefinitely in whatever world she traveled to, but even so, it dramatically broadened the scope of what she could do.

Lastly, Villa handled everyone’s schedules, managed the payments they received, and even served as our strategist, so it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call her the brains of our group.

Incidentally, the body she had obtained in the alchemy world resembled that of a female android with an expressionless face, so whenever she stood beside the others, she alone looked as though she’d stepped out of a completely different setting.

Villa herself had also gained extensive knowledge of that world’s alchemy, so apparently she was capable of maintaining her own body.

Then, one day, I felt my body being pulled by a powerful force.

Yes, I was being summoned.

There was nothing wrong with handling dispatched summons, but being summoned directly by someone still made my heart race in a way they couldn’t quite match.

There was just one thing that bothered me.

Judging by the strength of the call, the summoner had to be a practitioner of considerable skill.

And yet, for some reason, the emotions flowing through the summons felt painfully desperate, filled with the frantic urgency of someone begging for salvation.

What kind of situation could possibly force a practitioner this powerful to plead so desperately for help?

Back when I had only just become a devil, I undoubtedly would have answered such a summons while trembling with fear, but now my chest swelled with anticipation.

And so, I answered the call.

“Welcome, great devil who has come before us. …Now, speak your name, and let us forge a contract.”

The words were grandiose, but there was no strength behind the voice.

Slowly opening my eyes, I saw an extremely old man and, standing neatly beside him, a little girl who looked about five or six years old.

The old man was probably the one who had summoned me, but the girl didn’t seem ordinary either.

The mana leaking from her tiny body was far beyond that of an average sorcerer, and more importantly, both the old man and the girl had dark bluish skin.

Hmm. Were they perhaps some kind of demonic race…?

And probably the most important detail of all was that the face of the old man who had summoned me bore an unmistakably heavy shadow of death.

“I’m Lept. A king of devils who commands only a small number of subordinates. Now it’s your turn. Tell me your na—actually, before that, you can sit down. You don’t have to force yourself to maintain your dignity. I’m not going to look down on you, so please don’t push yourself.”

We were still in the middle of introductions, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying it.

Because no matter how I looked at him, he was moments away from reaching the end of his life.

It would be a serious problem if he died before I even heard the terms of the contract.

But for some reason, the old man looked pleased by my words.

“Oh… Just as the grimoire said. A disposition one could scarcely believe belonged to a devil… No, it is quite all right. I have very little time remaining regardless.”

That was what he told me.

At those words, however, the girl’s face twisted with terrible sorrow for just a brief instant.

Still, the old man had definitely said “grimoire.”

Which meant my name had already begun appearing in grimoires, and I had been summoned specifically by name.

“Before my life ends, please hear me out, Lept-dono. Hear of the current plight of we demonkind. And in exchange for my soul, I wish to entrust to you the princess left in my care by the previous Demon King—the one who is to become the new Demon King.”

At the old man’s words, I simply nodded in silence and urged him to continue, careful not to say anything careless.

According to the dying old man, Zahak, the Demon King of this world had been slain by the Hero three years earlier.

Two moons, one white and one black, hung in this world’s sky, and it was said that the White God and the Black God dwelled upon them respectively.

The White God had created humanity and the other human races at the western edge of the continent, while the Black God had created demonfolk and the other demonic races at its eastern edge.

Afterward, the White and Black Gods had fallen into a long slumber.

Incidentally, if they had fallen asleep, then they probably weren’t the same sort of god the angels spoke of, but rather divine beings indigenous to this particular world.

There were all sorts of ways for people to emerge within a world. Sometimes they were created by the god the angels spoke of, while in other cases even a Devil King might create people while acting as a god.

There were even worlds where people arose naturally.

The two races created by different gods spread across the continent, eventually met at its center, and began fighting one another.

Demonkind had won the first war.

Compared to the human races, demonkind consisted of a much wider variety of species, possessed greater physical strength and mana, and demonfolk in particular lived more than ten times as long.

As the victors, demonkind declared the eastern half of the continent the Demon Realm and ordered the human races not to enter, after which they began fighting among themselves instead.

After all, demonkind had never been especially numerous, so even half the continent was more than spacious enough for them, and battling powerful members of their own kind was more enjoyable than slaughtering weak humans.

However, a thousand years after demonkind’s victory, the armies of the human races invaded the Demon Realm.

At first, every member of demonkind laughed at the humans’ actions as sheer foolishness.

One demonic faction whose territory lay closest to the border between the human and demonic lands went to intercept the human armies—and suffered a crushing defeat.

Over those thousand years, the human races had multiplied, advanced their technology, improved their weapons and armor, and, never forgetting their previous defeat, refined both their tactics and their strategies.

The defining trait of the human races, and humans in particular, was their tremendous reproductive capacity and short generational cycle.

Human populations expanded in the blink of an eye, and as their numbers grew, divisions of labor and specialization became more advanced, accelerating the development of all kinds of technology.

The invading human armies burned down demonkind’s settlements and steadily transformed the Demon Realm into human territory.

But when the Demon Realm, which had once encompassed half the continent, had been reduced to roughly one-third of it, a demonfolk appeared who united the previously divided demonic races and halted the human advance.

Yes, that demonfolk was the one who would later become known as the Demon King.

The Demon King had already been one of the most powerful individuals in the Demon Realm, but he realized that if things continued as they were, every last member of demonkind would eventually be exterminated by the human races.

And so, astonishingly, the Demon King disguised himself as a human and traveled throughout human territory, bringing their technology and ways of thinking back to the Demon Realm and turning them into weapons with which demonkind could resist them.

After the Demon King united demonkind, they not only stopped the human armies’ advance, but began driving them back.

The Demon Realm, which had been steadily shrinking, now began expanding little by little instead.

Faced with this reversal, the human races panicked and desperately turned to the god of the White Moon who had created them.

Most likely, after slaughtering demonkind and expanding their territory so relentlessly, they were terrified of suffering the same treatment in retaliation.

Awakened for only the briefest moment by the clamor of his children, the White God bestowed a Holy Sword and the power of the Hero upon one member of the human races.

Apparently, the first Hero possessed strength scarcely greater than that of an ordinary person.

It was a weak power, utterly incomparable to that of the great human heroes of the time.

Naturally, that Hero quickly died on the battlefield against demonkind.

But that was when the real problem began.

Whenever the Hero died, the Hero’s power transferred to another member of the human races.

Along with all the experiences accumulated by the previous Hero.

The rulers of the human races learned how the Hero’s power worked, and repeatedly trained each Hero before deliberately sending them into hopeless battles to die.

They couldn’t control who would inherit the Hero’s power next, but even an incompetent Hero could serve as nourishment for the next one if they were trained before dying.

And if, someday, the Hero’s power came to reside within someone who already possessed the natural qualities of a true champion, the result would be a monster of overwhelming power.

The being who slew the Demon King was precisely such a monster called the Hero, created at the end of hundreds, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of sacrifices.

That said, the Demon King was still the king who commanded all of demonkind.

At the cost of his own life, he inflicted wounds upon the Hero that could never be healed—wounds that would ensure the Hero could never wield a sword or run again.

Had the Demon King not robbed the Hero of the ability to fight, every member of demonkind would likely have been exterminated by the Hero by now.

After his long explanation, Zahak released a heavy breath.

“The late Demon King had two children. One is the proud Prince of Demonkind. He now calls himself the new Demon King and fights the human races on the front lines. But his war is nothing more than a reckless campaign to vent his own rage. Many among demonkind have already abandoned his cause, unable to continue following him…”

And the other child was the Princess of Demonkind—the little girl currently standing beside Zahak.

Zahak spoke with every breath coming harder than the last, but I couldn’t stop him.

By now, Zahak was keeping his soul tethered to his body through sheer force of will alone.

If I interrupted him, his soul might leave his body that very instant.

“I served the Demon King as his tutor from the time he was a child. And after I grew old and retired, the Demon King entrusted the princess to me… But I can no longer… Please. In exchange for my soul, I beg you, please… the princess, the hope of demonkind…”

Even so, there was one thing I absolutely had to confirm.

I needed to know whose will it truly was that the princess become Demon King.

“Since I’ve been summoned, if that’s the contract you’re asking for… But please tell me just one thing. Was it the previous Demon King, you, or the princess herself who decided that she should become Demon King?”

The soul of a demonic sorcerer who had lived for such a long time was suitable payment for both the difficulty of the request and the length of time it would require.

Refusing that payment would mean trampling upon his resolve.

So I intended to accept, but there was still that one issue.

“Oh, of course. Of course, all of us. The Demon King, myself, and the princess. …However, if the princess—if Mureen-sama—should someday cease to desire becoming Demon King, then I ask only that you protect her until she has grown, until she can live safely on her own.”

Zahak nodded again and again as tears poured from his eyes.

I see. That was enough. He wouldn’t last if I made him continue any longer.

There were mountains of things I still wanted to know, but… I had learned what I absolutely needed to know.

“Understood. We have a contract. Zahak, my summoner, in your place I will protect Mureen, guide her, and raise her.”

At my words, Zahak opened his mouth as though to say something… but before he could utter a word, he slowly collapsed.

And his soul, bound by our contract, came to me.

“Grandfather, you have served well…”

Touching Zahak’s fallen body, Mureen murmured those words.

Her words were brave, but her eyes trembled with sorrow and uncertainty.

The sight of her desperately holding back her tears was painful enough to pierce my heart.

“Princess Mureen of Demonkind, I am Lept. Zahak’s soul is here, within me, and remains by your side. Until you grow and can walk forward on your own without hesitation… But first, we should give Zahak’s body a proper burial. I’ll carry him.”

I placed a hand over my chest and extended my other hand toward Mureen.

Mureen’s tiny hand touched mine.

“Very well. You have served well, Devil Lept… Alongside Grandfather’s soul, you shall serve me.”

That was probably the limit of what she could endure.

Mureen clung to me, and her tears wet my hand.