"Why wouldn't I be nice?" I whined.  "I'm nice!"

The General and the Dragonkin both ignored me.  Instead, Galene seemed to have taken on the personality of a referee all of a sudden.

"Introduce yourselves, fighters," she instructed.

"Darron," the Dragonkin grunted, offering a hand for me to shake.

"Matsuo," I answered in kind, trying not to assume he was asking me for a paw just because I was a Hellhound.

Not that I actually had paws.  But if I did, that would give a whole new meaning to "puppy play", didn't it?  Although...  I wasn't seriously about to start making indecent implications about a handshake, was I?!

I was.  I definitely was.  Could I not for one second?

"You, uh..."  Darron shifted awkwardly.  "You okay?"

"Yes!" I responded too quickly.

Still, he came closer, reaching a hand to my forehead.  "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes?"

"You don't seem to have a fever," he assessed.  "Could it be that you're—"

My heart skipped a beat.  My stomach sank and then did a barrel roll.  I'd been identified.  I'd been seen.  He was going to say a masochist and I was going to die on the spot.  Instant KO.  Maybe I could ask Death for another do-over?

"—an idiot?"

I fell to the ground with a thud anyway.  "How did you guess?"

He laughed and extended a hand to help me up.  It was hard to be intimidated when he was so damn gentle

"Hey."  Galene put a hand on her hips.  She had quickly reverted to her original personality.  "Are ya gonna fight or what?"

Darron coughed and I looked at the sword in my hands.  Neither of us seemed sure of how to approach sparring.

"Give us a countdown?" I managed to squeak.

Her eyes narrowed.  She took a step with each step of the countdown — five, four, three, two — and on one, she shoved me forward into the immense Dragonkin!  I screamed, as anyone would, and Darron held up his staff to repel me.

When I found my footing again and got a good look at him, I realized he was gripping the staff too tightly, as if someone of his size and stature was somehow nervous too.  Could I be reading the situation right?  Would a well-placed strike or a determined enough stance help psych him out and bring me victory?  Sure enough, I was able to take the offensive—  but wouldn't anything further just be bullying the poor guy?  Even if he'd called me an idiot, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

I felt my morale beginning to drop.  My glaring lack of bloodthirstiness would surely be my downfall in this kingdom of demons.  Maybe it could be learned, or at least imitated?  I had always been fond of the villains in stories.  Well, more like stories about the heroes losing to the villains, if you know what I mean.  And I was supposed to be one of the heroes in that situation, damn it!

Our match continued with neither of us seeming to have a proper advantage over the other.  Between my single skill point in the sword proficiency and his everything, it was a perfect recipe for putting a spectator to sleep.

"What an interesting match," a voice pierced through my thoughts, daring to disagree, and I nearly dropped my sword in surprise.

It was Lord Azdarch!  He watched with a twinkle in his eyes from just a few feet away, as if seeing his subordinates fight was the most exciting thing a demon could do with his day.  His presence should have been inspiring, yet I wasn't doing any better knowing those golden eyes were on me.

Suddenly, text appeared in my field of view.  Skill Triggered: Absolute Obedience.  Power output increasing.

Wait, was that was how it worked?!  I had been so preoccupied with reading and eating that I hadn't looked up my own damn skill.  My body was beginning to move on its own.  I could feel electricity shooting through my muscles, urging them to flex with a fervor they couldn't achieve consciously.

With an unusual spring in my step, I launched myself at Darron.  The force of my blow sent him reeling a few steps backwards, though he did manage to raise his staff to parry me.  We repeated the process, the two of us equally-matched under Lord Azdarch's watchful gaze.

I could do this all day, I realized, and I surely would be doing it all day if one of us didn't break out of this stalemate.

Power output increasing.

"Haaaaah!"  With Absolute Obedience-fueled intensity, I put everything I had into an overhead strike.  Darron parried again, effortlessly, as if under the influence of a similar skill.  My boots left deep indents in the ground as I struggled to keep from yielding another inch.

The two of us, I realized, were surrounded by shimmering auras — our mutual skill's area of effect.  It was warm and golden, like Lord Azdarch's eyes.  Neither of us seemed totally sure how to tap into the power boost we were receiving, though; our bodies grew restless with the pent-up energies.  It was almost as though we were operating on a different plane of existence where all of our senses were sharper and more focused.

"Can you feel that?" I asked him between blows.

"Yes," he rumbled.  "It's... distracting."

"Save the chitchat for teatime!" Galene growled.

"There's teatime?" Darron asked, deftly sidestepping my next attack in order to watch the mouse curiously.

I was a tangle of flailing limbs, full of too much momentum and power to stop myself.  Darron, making some sort of grand gesture to show his enthusiasm for teatime, happened to throw his staff-arm out at that exact moment.  The weapon connected with my stomach.  I fell to the ground, nearly retching despite its empty contents.  If only I hadn't forfeited my sandwich to Metis the night before.

"Good... one..." I choked out.

The aura around me fizzled out.  Galene began a ten-count as my consciousness faded.  I was almost expecting a "game over" screen, but instead, I simply received PVP (loss) +500 EXP.  Level up!

Although I couldn't see what was happening to my body, I could feel another surge of strength.  I was also able to see my stat sheet in my mind's eye: a rather even spread of fives and sixes out of ten, with an extra peak in Charisma for some reason.

I couldn't change the original spread of numbers, of course, but I did have an additional point to add to one of my primary statistics.  My mental cursor hovered between Strength and Intelligence as I debated.  All of the Strength in the world couldn't make up for being an idiot...

In the end, I increased my Durability to 6, which boosted my HP by about ten points.  I felt a sense of pride, ignoring that what little experience I received was probably awarded as a pitiful participation prize.  How much stronger would my Dragonkin compatriot have gotten from his victory?

While stuck in this space, my internal system was kind enough to allow me to read through some more help files.  I was able to get acquainted with the true nature of Absolute Obedience: as long as I was under Lord Azdarch's gaze, or even when I acted under his direct command, I would receive a 50% boost to all of my stats.  If I refused, or acted against that specific command, I would suffer a 50% penalty to my stats instead.

So, in other words, I was physically punished for disobedience, and rewarded for obeying.  Can an unconscious body start to feel flushed?  I found myself wishing I could thank Death more directly for this small blessing.

"Wow!  You suffered quite the blow."

"Death?" I mumbled, expecting the spirit to have received my positive intentions.

"Not yet," a rather cute voice giggled.  "Just another loser Lackey stuck in the infirmary with you."

Abruptly awakened, I sat up and held a hand to my stomach, which ached faintly.  I had been laying down on an uncomfortable cot with white sheets in a large tent outside.  Sounds from the training grounds carried through the air.

"The General was so upset that neither of you drew blood."

I looked over at the cot next to mine.  A demon woman smiled as she lay on her side, nearly spilling out of her shirt.  I looked above her neckline as quickly as I could and, from the style of her horns, realized she was familiar.  This was the Desire Demon — the last of the batch of recruits I belonged to.

"Y- Yeah," I said.

"Filia thinks you seemed pretty comfortable with that sword of yours."  She sat up, using her blanket as a shawl.  "Maybe a little overzealous, though?"

I frowned.  Was she talking in third person?  "Maybe."

"It's not wrong to want to impress our lord," Filia said.  It was an unexpectedly down-to-earth comment.  "Not everyone knows how to use the boost that Absolute Obedience provides right away.  They think they can take it for granted, but they never earn it."

"How do you—"  I swallowed.  "How do you earn it?"

"It's not something that Filia can really teach.  You have to find the answer in there."  She reached across the aisle and poked my chest with a clawed finger.

"In my... nipple?"

She hurriedly poked me once more, a little to the right.  "I-In your heart, of course."

"Oh."

Was she also blushing?  No way.  I had to be imagining things.

"Um, so..." She tried to twist a few strands of hair with her finger, but made too wide a circle and had to disentangle herself with her opposite hand.  "What brings you to our Lord's service?"

"A man's gotta have some secrets," I said.

It sounded a lot cooler than the truth, after all.

"You don't get to unlock Filia's tragic back story either, then," she huffed.

"A fair trade."

She didn't seem satisfied.