Demon Lord, Retry! Volume 1 Read online

  Going for the top with all I’ve got...

  Maybe I can do that, like, twice in my life.

  Why twice?

  So I have another chance to clock the bastard in the face.

  ...Akira Ono, Memorial

  x/x/2001 Sunny

  ...XX has joined.

  ...Akira Ono has joined.

  “Another day, another pile of bodies. What do you think, Akira? Like 200?”

  “Yeah. A pretty good start.”

  Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. Only two held the key to this chatroom. They had lost one already, making them a duo.

  “Like I’m the one to talk, but this game’s legit problematic.”

  “There are serious complaints that accuse the game of creating serial killers.”

  “For real!? Wow, this country’s gotten PC. Tightened up its asshole... Went a little too far at the Kegal Gym...”

  “Drop the disgusting metaphors.”

  Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. XXX was gone. Because XXX...

  “But what’s the point in smoking so many of them every day? I’m having fun, so no complaints here, but do you want to farm serial killers?”

  “Of course not. Haven’t you heard? Kill one, and you’re a murderer. Kill a million and you’re a hero.”

  “Huh? So you want to be a hero?”

  Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. A digital space. Population, 2. No one else would enter here again.

  “Hero? No thanks. What I want is for every player in Japan to fear me... To call me ‘Demon Lord’.”

  In a video game, of course. Detached from reality.

  “Uh huh. I believe in you, Akira. Yep. I think you’ll make your... dream?... come true.

  “You... You’re making fun of me.”

  “Oh no, not at all. I’ll just remind you of your hilarious Demon Lord dream a few years down the road.”

  “What the... You douche.”

  Type type type type. The chatroom symphony.

  Thud thud thud thud. The massacre symphony.

  Chapter One: Enter the Demon Lord

  Midnight of Beginning

  —Dive into the Game—

  The year is 2XXX on the Empire calendar.

  The nation known as the Empire, which now held most of the world under its control, commenced a heinous game. In order to solidify its oppression of the nations it had conquered, and to stomp out any chance of revolutions, the Empire grandiosely hosted a cruel show. The show, which could only be described as pure madness, was a fight to the death comprised of randomly selected players from each nation under the Empire’s control, with only one survivor. The Empire broadcasted this game around the world, hosting an official death pool. Who would survive until the end? Who would be killed last? Who would be killed first? The cruel, yet vibrantly real, show had transcended film and other forms of fiction. It captured the hearts of the citizens of the Empire (God’s People).

  The game, broadcast throughout the world, depicted countless dramas and tragedies. The viewers witnessed humanity at its bare-bones: participants killing strangers just to survive. The game was given many names: The Human Race, The Game of Life, Fable of the Onion... The exorbitant amount of wagers poured into the game by the world’s bored 1% eventually turned into vital income for the Empire. The citizens of the world awaited the selection process in fear, and God’s People were entertained in a stupor of madness. The Infinity Game. The lone survivor of each game was awarded with immeasurable wealth... And the privilege to join the ranks of God’s People. All other contestants, however, were awarded with death. Without exception.

  †　†　†

  Japan, 2016 CE...

  “I remember this event...”

  Now, a man was participating in the same terrifying Game. Only without a trace of cowardice or fear on his face. His name was Akira Ono... A perfectly average, working Joe. Akira knew this place like the back of his hand: he was the very man who ran the game. There was nothing to fear when he knew every inch of the arena. Moreover, it was all within a computer screen. None of it would affect reality.

  “This hobby lasted longer than I thought,” he said to himself in a faint whisper. This video game had started in 2001, around the dawn of the internet renaissance. The current year was 2016. The passage of fifteen years had qualified this game as an antique. And today, the curtains were about to close on it. Typing away at the keyboard or flourishing his mouse from time to time, Akira flipped through various screens. He didn’t seem to have a particular purpose for doing this except to try and commit everything in sight to memory.

  (...It’s almost midnight.)

  Normally, that was when the Game would commence. But Akira was the only one in the arena right now. At midnight, the servers would expire, obliterating the arena. He had chosen a solitary farewell, rather than a festive one.

  (Fifteen years was way too long...)

  A game that outlasted some children’s K-12 education was outlandish. In fact, the kids who were in middle school at the game’s launch were now proud members of the workforce. Some were now married. Some were now parents. Some have moved overseas. Each of them had lost free time as they gained responsibilities... In a sense, they had lived healthy lives.

  Akira was no exception, either. He used to lose himself in modifying the game as he pleased, and would stay up through the night to run it. Through the years, Akira moved up the ladder, until the majority of his life was taken up by his work.

  “Where to go next...?”

  He logged in as the character that could be considered the final boss of the game, and strolled through various maps until his time was nearly up. A residential area, a remote temple, a deep and dark pond, and more... Each and every location held a special meaning for him.

  23:58:20

  “Thanks for everything, Kunai.”

  Akira spoke to his character on the screen. If anyone was watching, they might have been a little creeped out. On his screen, there was a man with hair long enough to touch his shoulders. Although way into his forties, the man was built and toned to the max. Sharp, to no end. A high-ranking officer of the Empire, and the man behind the infamous Game itself... According to his backstory, anyway. His name was Hakuto Kunai, The Demon Lord of the Empire — the man responsible for spilling the blood and reaping the tragedy of 4,143,792 participants of the Game. Even at the brink of doomsday, his eyes gleamed of cruelty above his same old icy smile. Akira felt a slight shiver looking at Kunai.

  “I never would have guessed... I’d be spending the last moments with you.”

  Akira said, as if to deflect Kunai’s piercing stare. Still, Kunai’s expression remained unchanged. Which was no surprise. He was merely an NPC, who would never come to life unless someone was pulling his strings. Despite that fact, Akira continued in a fluster, as if he was trying to escape something.

  “What? You’re sulking? Just so you know, it doesn’t matter one bit that you’re the final boss, or that you’re the Demon Lord. Real life always wins. If you’re not done playing, it’s all on you... I’m going to bed. I’ve got an early morning.”

  23:59:50

  “See you, Kunai. And, goodnight... XXXXXXXXX”

  00:00:00

  Hiroshi closed his eyes with a thousand thoughts whirling behind them. When he opened them again... he saw the Great Forest in front of him.

  A world forsaken by God, where angels despair.

  Don’t be surprised.

  And listen.

  Listen carefully, and you should hear it.

  The midnight bell’s toll always sings of new beginnings.

  The Great Forest

  (What the...?)

  Akira Ono
fell speechless gazing upon the expansive, overgrown forest in front of him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at such a sight. Sure, his hobby of fifteen years was coming to an end, and he had been drinking a little, but not enough to hallucinate being thrown into the Great Forest. More importantly, he had to go to work the next day.

  “The Great Forest is really... well, green.”

  Recently, he had been circling his office, home, and XX. The brilliant, verdant forest almost stung his eyes. He would have been grateful to be reminded of the majesty of nature in the midst of his day-to-day life, but he had tomorrow to worry about. If he were to sleep through the night in front of the PC monitor again, he would undoubtedly be sore and miserable the next day.

  “Such a vivid dream, though. It almost seems real...”

  Closing his eyes, he could feel the rays of sunshine and hear the dragonflies and cicadas flying around him. Looking in the distance, he could even spot a glimmering lake. Akira cracked a grin, remembering that he had somewhere heard the phrase “dreams are reflections of desires.” Perhaps his subconscious mind was craving a leisurely walk in the woods, away from all of the stress.

  As he took a step forward in the direction of the lake, a drop of cold sweat trickled down his back.

  “What are on my feet...?”

  A pair of expensive leather shoes without so much as a crease. Above them, black slacks ran up his legs, complimented by a black suit. He was even wearing a long, black coat that draped down to his ankles despite the oppressive heat of summer. If a bystander were to take a guess, they probably would have thought Akira was some kind of mafia don.

  (It can’t be...)

  For some time now, his heart had been pounding nervously. When he sprinted toward the lake, he crossed the forest in a flash. Fast as a bullet train. The incredible speed made Akira only more nervous. As soon as he looked down at the water to see himself... his fear was confirmed.

  “Why are you...!”

  Through the reflection in the lake, the familiar final boss was looking back at Akira. The Demon Lord of the Empire, who sentenced countless players to their despair. The very character Akira had created within the game. Akira saw a smile on the face in the reflection, as if he found it amusing.

  “What the hell...!? How am I... this old man!?”

  Akira himself wasn’t too much younger than the inferred age of the face he saw, but he was counting on at least another decade or two until he saw this much age in his reflection. Moreover, his other senses were not helping in convincing Akira that this was all a dream. Everything was too real. What crossed his mind was that he had been transported to another world, just like the popular anime nowadays.

  The only other theory he could muster up was that he was already dead from a heart attack or something, and he was in the afterlife. Even that theory, however, didn’t quite explain why he looked like the Demon Lord.

  “H-Hold on... Calm down. It ain’t over ’til it’s over.”

  Akira frantically smacked his cheeks and head to no avail. Every time he breathed, he could feel his very lungs expand, just as they did in real life... to his disappointment. Finally beginning to realize the predicament he was in, Akira screamed internally:

  (Nooo! I didn’t even get a chance to wipe my hard drive!)

  Not a very noble reaction, to say the least, but painfully sincere. If push came to shove, he could accept being sent to another world. But he had never expected to be sent dressed like a member of the yakuza. If he had been at least young and good-looking, or filthy rich, there would have been a silver lining. Akira’s face was shaded with a little too much of distinguished senectitude for his taste.

  (First I need more information... What’s around here...?)

  He tried walking around for a while, but it didn’t seem like he was waking up anytime soon. On the contrary, his body seemed to settle with every step. By this point, Akira almost felt natural in this body. From time to time, the breath of the forest shook him, as if to prove that the world around him was as real as his own.

  (What is this world...? What is this forest...? Give me a hint. Something.)

  He rummaged through his pockets, but nothing helpful emerged. There were only numerous knives (the Demon Lord’s weapon of choice) laced inside the long coat, along with the cigarettes he always used.

  Akira had finally decided the embarrassment was worth it, and to shout the word. Mashive, who used to be one of the players, had spoken of this word. A magic word that was critical information in case one was transported to another world. After a deep breath, Akira shouted this word towards the sky...!

  “S-Status!”

  ...Silence filled the forest, followed by the cry of a single crow. Akira waited a while after shouting this alone in the forest, but nothing happened.

  “Come on!”

  He was hoping for some sort of screen or numbers, but nothing. In fact, the leaves rustling in the wind seemed like they were laughing at him. Catching a second wind, Akira decided to shout a different magic word. He figured that because he was the Demon Lord, because he was Akira Ono, there was another word better suited for him.

  “Administrator.”

  (Bingo!)

  Akira couldn’t help but shake his fists in the air. A black panel and keyboard had appeared mid-air, showing a screen prompting a password.

  “Yes, yes! Who’s a good boy...? Enter... password... Huh?”

  Mumbling like a dog trainer, Akira cheerfully typed in the password. The instant it was accepted, however, numerous command screens popped up, all blacked out, preventing him from reading any of it. In front of it, the screen read ‘Not all conditions are fulfilled.’ His knees faltered, and Akira slumped against the large tree next to him.

  “Conditions my ass... What could you possibly want...?”

  Without a thought, he had taken out a cigarette and lit it. He proceeded to blow out the familiar smoke, but the comforting sensation further shoved the truth into Akira’s face. In what dream could he taste a cigarette so clearly? He smoked through a couple more, but he couldn’t wrap his head around this situation. In fact, he was even starting to get a headache.

  “What am I supposed to do...? Maybe I should have read more light novels while I had the chance...”

  Unable to collect his thoughts, Akira was getting agitated. The loud footsteps he had been hearing for a while had been putting him on edge to begin with. The footsteps were coming from the deep end of the forest.

  (Hold on... There has to be someone making those footsteps.)

  The rushed footsteps, as if they were fleeing from something, continued to approach Akira until the culprit finally emerged.

  (A kid...? A filthy one, at that.)

  He almost spoke to the child, before wondering if the child would understand Japanese. Perhaps from tripping and falling somewhere along the way, the child’s face and clothes were covered in dirt. So much so, that Akira couldn’t even make out if the child was a boy or a girl. The child had blond hair and red eyes. Akira doubted that they could converse in Japanese, but his best shot was to start asking this kid some questions.

  (Right. Kunai was always all showboat-y and sarcastic.)

  For the time being, as he didn’t know what was going on, Akira figured it would be best to act like Kunai. Recalling Kunai’s character from the depths of his memory, he tried speaking to the child.

  “Well, uh, let’s see. Can you understand me?”

  “Run!”

  “Huh?”

  Behind the child, there was a monster with wings formed of bare bones. In a dingy grey, the creature resembled a typical Gargoyle from fantasy worlds. The sinister silhouette dazed Akira, and he couldn’t help but laugh, again. Now, it was undeniable that he had found his way into an unreal world.

  (Wait... Maybe I’m just crazy.)

  There was no way that a creature like this could exist anywhere in Japan, or on Earth, for that matter. ‘You’re not real!’ Akira wanted to shout.

 
“How to put this... Is that not-so-adorable monster your pet? You should really train it better, you know.”

  “Run! Quick! It’s a devil!”

  Akira groaned internally.

  (Devil... A devil, huh?)

  He had no clue if he should laugh, run, or maybe beg for his life. What sick joke was he a part of?

  “...Puny human, offer your flesh to me.”

  “Yikes!”

  Akira jumped, dropping his cigarette. The sight of this monster with beet-red eyes coming at him like how a predator would approach prey was a horror-show, to say the least. Terrifying, actually. All Akira wanted to do was run away screaming.

  As he lunged to run for his life, the monster swung its large arm, slamming its talons into Akira’s face with powerful force. A dull pain throbbed in Akira’s forehead, and his eyesight flashed red and white.

  “Agh...!”

  In the midst of confusion and pain, he could feel flaming rage roar out of his gut.

  “...What do you think you’re doing?”

  A low growl came out of his mouth in a completely different tone than his usual voice. The moment he spotted the confused monster, his right hand reached inside his coat with blinding speed.

  ——Automatic Retaliation!

  (Woah, I can’t control my body...!)

  In disregard of Akira’s intentions, his body moved on its own. In a flawless motion, as fast as lightning, a knife was thrown!

  Retaliation Initiated!

  “Revenge” — Success! Increased Retaliation Damage!

  “One-Shot Kill” — Success! Critical Rate increased by 30%!

  Critical Hit!

  Lethal Damage — Greole, King of Devils was destroyed!

  —Skill Level over 5000!

  “Break Through” “Expert Chain Attacks” — Fail! The target is already defeated!

  —Combat Skills activated!

  “Overlord” — Fail! The target is already defeated!

  “Mind’s Eye” — Fail! The target is already defeated!

  —Survival Skills activated!

  “Meditate” — Success! Kunai regained some health.

  The ‘Combat Results’ flooded Akira’s brain, making him dizzy.