Weeb and the Trinary gasped, awestruck. The Demon Lord wondered if they were mocking the meager kitchen.
“It must use a Fire Spell Stone— No, e-lek-tree-city, did you call it?” Weeb asked.
“That’s propane— Enough of this! We’re going! Get out!” The Demon Lord shoved Weeb and his Trinary—who still longingly eyed the appliances—out of the apartment. He wouldn’t have survived them gushing over an old vacuum or rotary phone. Since these houses didn’t even have running water, the Demon Lord considered them unfit for polite company, if he was being honest.
“Don’t tell me every housing unit has all of those...?!” Weeb asked.
“What if they do? Hate to break it to you,” the Demon Lord said gruffly, lighting his cigarette and practically spitting out a trail of smoke. Whatever Weeb made of his reaction, the hero didn’t say. “Forget this Area! We’re moving on!” The Demon Lord strode away, followed by Weeb and his trinary.
Weeb watched the man before him with intensity. Fallen Angel wings, darker than the abyss, draped down his back. Those were supposed to be the sign of pure evil—an object of fear. Are there any truths to the legends? Weeb wondered, his core shaken by what he’d witnessed today, cracks running through the foundation of his belief system that had been built by religious study.
The same could be said for the Trinary, who kept uncharacteristically quiet, like they were trying desperately to contain something threatening to spill over from within them. Behind the holy men, the refugees obediently followed.
Keeping one eye on the refugees, Weeb replayed the Demon Lord’s words over and over: “I am the ruler of all! My world comes to life!” With each refrain, something cold dripped down his back. Those were the words of a god, and the Demon Lord had said them with true conviction. As if to prove his divinity, the Fallen Angel had performed a miracle using a Holy Coin, rumored to contain the power of the Wise Angel. How could an evil being use the potential power in a Holy Coin? Weeb considered.
Despite the doubt he now had about the legends regarding Lucifer, Weeb was staring down the one true takeaway—something so obvious no one seemed to consider it. He had been once described as a mythical rebel who had fought against the Great Light. In other words, he possessed enough power to square off against the Great Light. The phrasing that always followed that particular legend was that the Fallen Angel “ruled the night.” It must mean they fought over the continent, literally splitting it in two, Weeb concluded. If the battle hadn’t been close, the world would not have been divided between day and night. Why does no legend tell how the battle ended? Weeb had never asked himself before. The only thing he’d ever been told about the Fallen Angel, since his childhood, was that he had revolted against the Great Light and had been banished from Heaven. Yet, no document ever mentioned the end of the grand battle.
Without question, Weeb had accepted the vague description all the clergy had fed him all his life—that the Great Light had illuminated the continent. It’s even possible the Great Light lost that battle, Weeb thought. Considering the stranglehold of censorship in the Tzardom, they would have tried to erase any detail in history that didn’t fit their narrative. No one alive had ever seen the Great Light, but here the Fallen Angel was, walking a few feet before him. No, it’s still too early to decide that the Great Light is gone. Perhaps it only needs time to recover from a grave injury. Weeb’s mind spiraled, boring deeper and deeper into this conundrum—there was no way to verify the validity of myths that had been passed down for so long.
The Demon Lord certainly couldn’t give Weeb a firsthand account—he was just a con man playing the role of the Fallen Angel. To complicate matters, he wielded powers that gave his claim validity—no one doubted his status now. Even if the real Fallen Angel were to appear right now, they would be cast away as an imitation of the Demon Lord.
Akira Ono, when he set his mind to something, always saw it through. What’s more, he was extremely self-centered and driven by a unique set of values. He felt no need to conform to others’ expectations either. He alone was the center of his universe, and he never doubted his values even as he judged the actions of others by them. If he felt it was necessary, he could delete an entire world of his creation with the push of a button and trample through a world of someone else’s design. On the surface, it was really difficult for anyone to discern just how troubling the Demon Lord was at his core.
“That was just a relic of an old era, Hero. I will show you another miracle...” the Demon Lord said.
Weeb grimaced behind his glasses. How many millenia had it been since the Fallen Angel last roamed this world? That was a past so distant that it was nearly forgotten by humanity. As excavated Ancient Fragments show, there was highly advanced technology and magic in the olden times. Funnily enough, the select few members of academia and archaeology were right—and they’d been considered lunatics. Weeb glanced back at the white box he carried on his back. It was an Ancient Fragment called the Holy Garb Box. The day he’d been chosen by the box, he was destined to live out the rest of his life as the Paladin.
The Demon Lord smirked. “Let’s begin.” Clearly, he was more confident in this performance than his last. In rapid succession, the Demon Lord flicked Holy Coin after Holy Coin into the air.
Weeb, with his excellent vision, counted five coins in all.
“Spark the primal flame, forevermore! Area Modification: Abandoned Mines.” The Demon Lord spread his arms wide, gesturing as if he fancied himself a grand orator. As always, his Fallen Angel wings fluttered at the perfect time, adding a cascade of dark feathers to the effect.
While all watched on, entranced by the grandiose performance, the Holy Coins shone in a chain reaction that lit up the entire patch of land. Soon, the pure-white brilliance transformed the empty land into the Abandoned Mines—a cavern so expansive that the bottom could not be seen from the surface, with a network of minecart tracks lacing it. Various switches and buttons lined the walls of the cavern, illuminated by lanterns hanging at equal intervals.
“What are you— What is this place?!” Weeb bellowed like he wanted to reject reality.
“Mines that produce black stones, as you call them. I’ll give you the tour personally,” the Demon Lord said.
“Black stones?! Those have been long spent up...”
“Oh, I should pause all damaging events. Don’t want anyone twisting an ankle in a mole hole, getting trapped in a collapsed cave, poisoned by gas... Oh, and definitely no explosions,” the Demon Lord muttered as he moved his hand restlessly along the admin screen that no one else could see. Weeb couldn’t make heads or tails of the Demon Lord’s behavior. “Done. Let’s go in.” The Demon Lord marched into the cavern, paying no mind to Weeb’s confusion.