The Demon King's Strongest Card (1)
Thud.
A hand, so pale it looked almost deathly white, slapped down on the desk with force.
Pressed beneath it was none other than a sheet of white paper.
After a brief pause, the hand that had stopped withdrew slowly, leaving only the paper behind.
The man, who had been watching the retreating hand, lowered his gaze to the paper on the desk. His eyes, initially indifferent, froze when they caught sight of the word written on it — "Letter of Resignation."
Then, they widened to the size of saucers.
Across from him, a man with white hair and red eyes, who had been calmly observing the entire process without a flicker of emotion, stared directly into his bewildered eyes and spoke in a voice as stiff as his expression.
"I'm quitting."
If the Empire had "heroes," the Demon King's army had "corps commanders."
Just as the Empire relied on its talented generals, the Demon King would naturally rely on his corps commanders.
In that sense, the corps commanders were the Demon King's sword and shield — a symbol of strength.
Officially, there were twelve corps commanders, from the 1st to the 12th Corps.
However, there was another corps, one whose existence was an open secret despite being labeled "secret" — the 0th Corps.
Even the entirety of the Demon King's castle knew about it, not to mention their enemies, the Imperial Army.
The 0th Corps, whose commander had even slain the "Last Hero," was essentially the Demon King's strongest card.
A card so reassuring just to possess — and now it was suddenly saying it wanted to quit.
"No way! Absolutely not!!"
"I can't just let a talent like you slip away!"
With that resolve, Demon King Kaver clung desperately to the hem of his subordinate's trousers.
Usually, this subordinate hardly spoke and rarely moved, so when he had come all the way here himself, Kaver had thought it odd — even felt a little glad.
But then, this? This was what he had come to say?
It couldn't be true. Surely, like always, it was just something he said on a whim. It had to be.
Still clutching at the trousers, Kaver looked up.
Their red eyes met, and silence stretched between them.
He figured his subordinate could read the plea in his eyes:
"I'm going this far — surely you're not seriously quitting?"
And maybe it was working — those eyes, which had been firm until now, trembled ever so slightly.
It was almost imperceptible, but Kaver, who was focused entirely on him, caught it immediately.
He's wavering. Then there was no time to stop now.
Kaver abruptly let go of the trousers and sprang to his feet. This time, he grabbed the man's shoulders.
"Why? What's wrong? Are the other subordinates mistreating you? Discriminating because you're human?
Who is it?! I'll rip them apart right now—!"
Though his words were fierce, deep down he was certain that wasn't the case.
Despite being human, this subordinate's martial prowess was so overwhelming that not even the proud demons could muster any rivalry toward him.
No one dared to even think about messing with him.
And yet, there was a reason Kaver pushed like this.
Deon Hart.
Known in the Demon King's castle as "Demon Arut," he held a status second only to the Demon King himself — a human.
Though he was the only human in the Demon King's castle, he was undeniably different from others of his kind.
He abhorred the shedding of blood, unlike the demons who saw violence as second nature.
Thus, Kaver reasoned, pushing him like this would surely provoke a response.
—And sure enough.
Just as Deon was about to leave the office, Kaver felt his wrist caught firmly.
He turned around to see red eyes, reminiscent of fresh blood, silently watching him.
Kaver forced a smile onto his face.
'...Finally, he's willing to talk.'
Deon could easily have shaken him off if he wanted to.
But instead, he held on — which meant Kaver's gamble had worked.
Taking a deep sigh, Kaver sat down heavily in his chair.
"I'll ask again. Why?"
"...Are you going to kill me?"
The answer that came back wasn't an answer — it was a question.
Kill him? What a terrifying thing to say.
Startled, Kaver looked up and locked eyes with Deon, whose blood-red gaze stared back unblinking. A nervous laugh escaped his lips.
'I didn't mean to make it sound that bad, but if I push any further, he might actually go for my throat.'
Even for the Demon King, who could only truly be challenged by Heroes, Deon was a threat.
If Deon seriously tried to kill him, even Kaver would suffer significant injury. It would be a huge hassle.
So, softening his tone, Kaver spoke gently.
"Of course not. I'd never kill you. I'm just curious, that's all. Why?"
"...It's because."
After a moment's hesitation, Deon finally spoke.
And then—
Splat.
'...Splat?'
"Blood! There's blood!!"
"Ah."
Blood poured out. Naturally, right onto the desk piled with paperwork.
Kaver instinctively reached out to catch the blood with his hands, unable to think of anything else.
His mind spun chaotically.
Poison?
No — he had already activated a poison detection spell when he first saw the blood, but there was no reaction.
Then there was only one answer left:
Side effects.
Officially, Deon Hart killed the Hero.
The Hero, of all people. Naturally, he had to endure massive injuries, and as a result, his body, which wasn't in great condition to begin with, ended up completely wrecked. There were times, like now, when he would cough up blood.
'Well, that's not entirely true, but since the aftereffects are real and the outcome's the same, close enough.'
He had coughed up blood a few times before, but now the frequency was clearly increasing.
Grit. The thought of losing such a valuable asset made the Demon King clench his teeth in frustration.
Just then, Deon, seemingly realizing the situation too late, stepped back from the desk, clutching his mouth. His voice, clearly straining to hold back the blood, squeezed out with difficulty.
"I'm sorry... the documents...."
"That's not the issue right now! The court physician! Someone call the Zero Corps Commander's physician!! What the hell is he doing when his patient is this sick?!"
The Demon King's roar shook the entire castle, and chaos erupted.
Far in the distance, the personal physician, Ben, came sprinting toward them.
Meanwhile, as I watched my blood staining the Demon King's carpet an ugly red, my thoughts were very simple.
'Shit, I'm screwed.'
All I wanted was to hand in my resignation and quit. But of all times, my blood decided to spill then, ruining both the documents and the carpet, and even dragging the physician into this mess... Anyone could see this was the perfect setup to get my ass handed to me.
If only getting hit was the worst that could happen, I'd consider myself lucky.
I'm dealing with demons here. If it were humans, they might just get mad and let it go. But demons? They're the types to say, "Atone with your life!" and swing a sword without hesitation.
So I stood there, stiff and pale, desperately cooperating with Ben's examination.
"Sir Demon, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three."
I obediently answered, struggling to stay alive, and my mind drifted back to earlier.
My name is Deon Hart. Due to a bit of a misunderstanding, I'm known around the Demon King's Castle as "Demon Arut."
No—actually, not just a bit of a misunderstanding. The real reason I'm trying to quit is because of that misunderstanding.
In short, the Demon King and everyone else here somehow got it into their heads that I'm insanely powerful.
Ha. What a joke. The castle's chef is probably stronger than I am. At least the chef is an actual demon.
But that's not the main issue.
The excessive overestimation of me had instilled sheer terror into my heart, warning me that if I didn't get out soon, it would end badly.
You think being praised too highly sounds good? It's not, not when it's this extreme.
Over-the-top praise eventually turns into fear of the backlash. And here, I'm in the Demon King's Castle, no less. Even the Demon King himself treats me according to that delusion. If the truth ever comes out?
That day would be the day I die. And it wouldn't be a clean death either.
'I need to run away.'
But if I just vanished without a word, no doubt the Demon King would shout, "I can't lose a talent like you!!" and mobilize the army to chase me down. If I got caught, it might not end at mere capture—at worst, they might just kill me.
There are even humans who think, "If I can't have it, I'll destroy it." Demons wouldn't be any better.
I've never heard that enemies come to resemble each other, but somehow, in treasuring talents, the Demon King's no different from the Empire's emperor.
And even if I told the truth, who would believe me? Even if they did believe me, they might snap and go, "You lied to me all this time?!" and chop my head off.
So I had planned to face this head-on, submit my resignation, and then quietly disappear if needed, reading the situation.
I hadn't expected the Demon King to grab onto my pants leg.
"No! Absolutely not!!"
I had expected him to protest a little.
'But this wasn't in the plan!!'
Grabbing my pants leg? Doesn't the Demon King have any pride?!
Inside, I was screaming in horror, but outwardly, I couldn't move a muscle.
Because, honestly—I was scared.
'The Demon King... the Demon King is clinging to my leg, holy shit!!'
This was the Demon King—the greatest in history, who had defended the Demon King's Castle from countless heroes without suffering any serious damage. With just a flick of his finger, he could kill me instantly.
If I accidentally kicked him off while trying to move—
I didn't even have to test it to know exactly how that would end.
So until he let go on his own, I stayed frozen like a statue.
I had been so tense that I'm sure, if he'd held on any longer, I would've cramped up right there.
Anyway, for whatever reason, after our eyes met, the Demon King finally let go and shot up from the ground. Which was a relief...
Except this time, instead of my leg, he grabbed onto my shoulders!
Maybe it was his way of trying to keep me here — the Demon King placed both hands on my shoulders and started speaking in a rush, locking eyes with me.
But listen, Your Majesty.
"Why? What's wrong? What's bothering you?"
The real reason I handed in my resignation is because...
"Are the subordinates treating you badly? Are they discriminating against you because you're human?"
...you were treating me too well. To the point it became overwhelming.
You all think you're giving me treatment "befitting my abilities," but that's not true. Not at all. I don't have any abilities!
In fact, I'm a frail human whose physical capabilities are below average.
'I should've been suspicious back when they first tried to recruit me.'
I should've questioned why they would even want someone as useless as me.
I couldn't refuse because the atmosphere back then practically screamed "Say no and die here," but still...
...Huh? Come to think of it, there was never a choice to begin with, was there.
'...Life, huh.'
I swallowed down the sigh rising in my throat. Even now, I needed to find a way to escape.
Since the Demon King — the final boss himself — was treating me much better than expected, it wasn't completely impossible....
"Who's the bastard?! I'll rip them apart right now—"
NO! Absolutely not!!
I grabbed him in a panic as he strode toward the office doors.
Who is there to punish?! If he goes off and massacres his own men, who's going to get blamed in the end? Obviously, me, the cause of all this!
See? This is what I mean. Even when they're being good to me, it's too much. Damn it, why do I feel like crying?
Fortunately, the Demon King seemed to calm down and slumped back into his chair with a heavy sigh.
"I'll ask you one more time. What's your reason?"
Somehow, his voice was so low and still it sent a faint chill down my spine.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but I figured it was best to tread carefully. Instead of answering right away, I cautiously asked him,
"…Are you going to kill me?"
Ah, that's not what I meant to say. I was so nervous the words just came out bluntly.
As expected, the Demon King's eyes — those iconic heterochromatic eyes of his — glinted sharply as he stared at me.
What did that look mean?
Was it a "How did you know?" kind of glare? Or a "Should I kill him or let him live?" kind of stare?
Or maybe it was a "This is why smart subordinates are such a pain" kind of thing.
S-Should I apologize now? But even if I apologize, would he really let me go?
No matter how I spun it, I could only imagine a dark, depressing future ahead.
Unable to meet that intense gaze head-on, I just stood there fidgeting, my lips quivering slightly. The Demon King studied my face carefully, almost as if trying to peel back my very thoughts — but finally, he shook his head.
"I would never kill you. So, tell me: what's your reason? Let's just hear it first."
I hesitated for a moment — but only for a moment.
I had intended to settle this face-to-face from the start, so this was a necessary step. I couldn't run away now. I mustn't run.
So I opened my mouth to speak.
"…The thing is—"
Splurt.
That all-too-familiar, metallic taste of blood exploded from the back of my throat, rushing to fill my mouth and nose.
"BLOOD!! HE'S BLEEDING!!"
"Ah."