“You failed?”
“I did, poo!”
The demon summoner Zomamurgormi was receiving a report on his plan’s failure.
The scheme to bring about a coup d’état by possessing the Latiluti ratfolk general and his knights had been prevented.
“Absurd! The trouble on the roads and surrounding village left the capital undefended! You fanned that fool prince’s ambitions and had him release the barrier, yes?”
Zomamurgormi was pounding the table in fury.
“How could that plan fail?!”
“The hero’s follower appeared, poo!”
“What? We already baited him? No, perhaps he just happened by. I was hoping to get the stupid prince on the throne and start a war with their neighbors, plunging the region into chaos, but so be it. If the hero’s eyes and ears are on the ratfolk country, arguably that’s all according to plan. Advance the other distractions and keep his hands full.”
Muttering, he tried to convince himself.
At this point, he still had some wherewithal, but a few days later, he heard of another plan’s failure and rather lost his shit.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Another failure?”
“Yep, poo!”
“It’s not funny!”
The lesser demon showed no remorse, so he struck it with his staff, recalling the plan in Chipucha, the frogfolk country.
“You were supposed to taint their precious lake, yes? Shatter the key-shaped crystal for the purification device, prevent them from transporting the new one. The first part was a success, I thought? If you failed to stop the transport—you fell for a fake?”
“Nope, poo.”
“No? You failed to steal it, then?”
“The hero’s follower stole it back, poo.”
The demon did a little jig, clearly not fussed about getting hit.
“I told you to shatter it so it wouldn’t matter even if they stole it back, you imbecile!”
“I’m told they did shatter it, poo.”
“Excuses! It takes a hundred years to make a key-shaped crystal! If you broke it properly, they’d never find a replacement!”
“I wouldn’t know, poo!”
Zomamurgormi hit the demon with his stick for a while, but it was incapable of feeling pain and merely laughed.
“Anger and hatred feel so good, poo!”
“Damn it, I’ll just have to resort to numbers. So many the hero can’t keep up, no matter how many followers he has!”
With that desperate cry, he ordered the demons to put every plan he had in action.
But every one of those plans was foiled by Nanashi’s followers, or the light dragon adventurers—the Pendragon Party.
“…Impossible. Does he have all-seeing eyes?!”
Every one of Zomamurgormi’s plans had been foiled, and he felt utterly defeated.
“I’ll have to move up my other plans and curse the Great Sorceress through the underground veins.”
His voice growled like the rumbling earth.
“We’ve yet to lay a finger on Blybrogha—if we hint at demons there, the hero will catch wind of it. No, that’s exactly what we’ve done every time. Spread rumors of demon encounters, but send no demons there—that should tie him up until my real plan succeeds!”
He was pinning all his hopes on that.
“He operates out of the area—he should be willing to spread rumors, at least!”
“She-she-she, you called?”
“Sir?!”
A man with a hood over his eyes emerged from the shadows.
Only the tip of his nose was visible—but that was enough to prove this man was weaselfolk, like Zomamurgormi himself.
“Are your plans going well?”
“Tch.”
Clearly, the visitor knew full well they weren’t, and that irked Zomamurgormi.
“I’m moving things up. Get me the materials I need for the curse ritual. And I need you spreading rumors of demon activity in Blybrogha.”
“She-she-she, so many demands.”
“It’s all for His Majesty, the emperor’s brother. We are comrades and must work together.”
“She-she-she, I can hardly refuse if you bring up His Highness, the emperor’s brother.”
The hooded man made a point of rephrasing the honorific, which earned him a glare.
“And preparations for a western invasion are progressing back home as well. Creating an uproar to pin down the Shiga hero will support our homeland as well.”
“An invasion? Makiwa? The smaller eastern nations? Shiga won’t stand idly by either way.”
“We plan to cause a disturbance within Shiga as well.”
“One big enough they can’t afford to send their armies?”
“I can’t share particulars. The tactician said something about using a relic of the past and recycling the deposed prince.”
“The emperor’s still valuing that bald enigma?” Zomamurgormi scoffed—but then the dots connected. “Wait, by relic you mean—not the Holy Husk—?”
“Demon summoner,” the hooded man interrupted rather forcefully. “The walls have long been lined with shadows. Ensure your lips remain sealed. And for that plan to succeed, the Shiga hero must remain absent.”
“Even if it means my plans fail?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Keeping the hero in the southwest and discovering the truth of Arcatia’s Purple Moon Core are both vital. And I’ll spare no expense to help.”
“Then handle those rumors of demon activity in Blybrogha.”
“She-she-she, let us hurry to complete the curse ritual.”
With that, the hooded man vanished into the darkness.
“‘Shadow Walk’…a useful artifact.”
Zomamurgormi moved to the tank with the lump of flesh floating within.
“If the plan is to succeed, I must revive this, too. …… Summon Lesser Demon Kakyu Mazoku Shoukan.”
A magic circle appeared beneath his feet, and multiple lesser demons appeared outside of it.
“Sacrifice yourself to restore your lord.”
“Gotcha, poo.”
“Going back to him, poo!”
“Our flesh to the master, poo!”
Ordered to give up their lives, the lesser demons did not resist—they willingly agreed to be consumed by the lump of flesh in the tank.
“It should be restored within a trimoon.”
Zomamurgormi summoned till his magic ran out, all to revive the greater demon.
Once out of magic, he flopped onto a chair, his body like lead, chugging the magic potion he’d left on the table.
“But will that alone slow the hero down?” he muttered.
“Lord…vive…poo.”
The tank flesh mumbled, the fluid bubbling.
The greater demon most likely meant “Revive the demon lord.”
“You wish to see the Dark Lord of Necromancy revived, demon?”
“Poo.”
The flesh lump’s lips signaled agreement.
“Foolish. The demon lord system was invented by those decrepit foolish gods.”
“Great, poo.”
“Great? The demon lords?” Zomamurgormi did not even attempt to conceal his contempt.
“Hero, poo.”
“Send them against the hero?”
“Poo.”
Heroes and demon lords were opposing forces, doomed to face each other.
That was a famous line from a heroic fable he’d once read.
“Very well. I have a handy priest in the fortress city. Lend me your minion. I’ll control his mind and ensure the demon lord is revived.”
“Poo,” the demon murmured, and an intermediate demon appeared in the darkness.
One skilled at Psychic Magic—the same one that had controlled Zanzasansa.
“Work time, poo?”
“Yes. Go to the fortress city and charm a priest named Mokro. Have him revive the demon lord—while claiming he is purifying the soul of the demon lord residing within the Temple of the Evil God.”
“Sounds like fun, poo!” The demon danced and began to fade out.
“Wait! This task must be done at the same time we curse the Great Sorceress! If you go now, you’ll just be eliminated!”
“I knew that, poo!” the demon insisted, vanishing into darkness.
Muttering to himself, Zomamurgormi headed to his chambers.
“With all these pieces in place, I must slip past hero and sorceress alike and obtain the Purple Moon Core.”
At some point, his goals had shifted from “determine if the core exists” to “obtain it at all costs.”
“Then the flying fortress will be mine, and His Majesty, the emperor’s brother, will be restored to his rightful position.”
A hoarse laugh echoed in his wake.
The intermediate demon came back from the darkness, sharing a smirk with the greater bark demon.
Like the weasel’s ambitions had been planted by these demons.