Crystal chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling above. I shifted uncomfortably on the throne they put me. Don’t get me wrong, the chair was comfy—I bounced on it a couple of times just to make sure. But I wasn’t used to all that attention.

In fact, I was an introvert working on a cubicle all day. I was virtually invisible. And now...

The creatures that all looked like Mog’s siblings stared at me in silence. They seemed to expect something from me.

Yesterday I learned that the members of this curious race were called Gretchlings. And that the so-called Demon Lords were never seen without them.

Come to think of it, there hadn't been a moment since I arrived when they weren't around.

Hm...

I stared back at them, trying to decode what they wanted from humble me.

Hmmm...

I gave up.

It must’ve been a coincidence.

The ornated doors across the hall swung open. Mog stepped inside, in the bouncy, limpy way the Gretchlings did, followed by a crew close behind. There was something between them, like a big, glowing chest they carried together like a casket.

They lowered the heavy thing with a loud thud.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at it.

Mog hopped back and forth in excitement.

“Gretchlings collected special tribute in anticipation of your arrival, Master!”

My left eyebrow arched.

“Tribute? Like money?”

Mog and the Gretchlings laughed heartly at that.

“Funny master, funny! Money Gretchlings take from scared peasants every day. Not special, just shiny.”

“Wait a second...”

I scanned my luxurious surroundings.

“A-are you saying that all this here was built with stolen money?”

Now the whole court hopped around, giggling like overjoyed imps.

I took that for a yes.

What were these guys thinking? Those farmers seemed poor as hell.

I pressed my temples as my head began to hurt.

“Then If that’s not money,” I said. “What is it?”

They stopped.

Mog raised his arms, a wide smile on his chubby face.

“Souls, Master, souls!”

My jaw dropped.

“WHAT?!”

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

The court was in disarray. Gretchlings murmured amongst themselves, as I paced back and forth in front of the throne, biting my nails. I stopped once I caught a glance at Mog.

The poor guy seemed to be genuinely confused, fearful even, as he rubbed his hands together anxiously, eyes darting across the crowd around him.

I took a deep breath.

I pitied him but still, there was a container filled with harvested souls besides him. I just couldn’t let it pass.

“Why did you do this?” I asked him.

His face lit up a little.

“For Master, Mog did it for Master.”

I sighed.

“No, I get it. But why would I even want this?” I shook my head in disbelief. “You know what, it doesn’t matter why.”

They seemed to listen to me, for some reason. So, I stood at the edge of the dais and raised my voice for all to hear.

“No more stealing from peasants! No more soul harvesting! And stop calling me Your Evilness—that’s creepy!”

They gasped, holding each other for support.

Mog limped forward.

“But Master—”

I made an X in the air with my arms.

“Don’t wanna hear it. I’ve meditated on this subject, and I came to terms with the fact that Yoshihiro is dead and probably buried at this point. Plus—”

I lowered my arms.

“I like this body!”

They gasped again. I think they were just doing it for effect now.

“There, I said it! I don’t have back pain anymore. And since you guys see me as your boss, there will be changes around here!”

“What kind of changes, Master?” Mog asked.

“We. Are. No. Longer.”

I filled my lungs.

“Evil!”

Gasps. Some of the Gretchlings fainted.

I climbed down the dais, striding towards the exit.

“Where is Master going?”

“I’m going out. I don’t know where, but I need to see people, fresh air. This is too much for my head.”

“Mog would advise Master against it...”

I stopped on my tracks.

“And why is that?”

Mog rubbed his hands together, lowering his head.

“People good for money and souls... but they scare too easily.”

“Nonsense! I have never been more handsome and overall presentable in my life. Just don’t follow me.”

He raised his hand, opening his mouth, likely to protest again, but stopped.

“Good,” I said, and stormed off the palace.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

This horse was weird. Mm-hmm. I took it from the courtyard as it was the only one in sight, but I was starting to worry now.

I glanced back again.

It was leaving burnt horseshoe prints behind it, smoke rising from them. The beast’s color was strange too. Pitch-black fur with fire-like lights rising from its legs, plus the unnerving red eyes.

But it was very gentle with me, despite the menacing looks. This was my first time riding a horse, and the beast seemed to know that, so it readily adapted to my clumsiness.

I nodded approvingly.

He didn’t have a name, though. Such a loyal beast deserved one.

I scratched my chin, thinking, when a name came to mind.

“I shall call you Dingus.”

Dingus neighed, black smoke belching from its nostrils. I think he liked it.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

A charming small town stood before us. It felt like getting transported back to my history classes; burghers and their colorful chaperons, peasants tending to gardens. It was a bucolic, soothing sight to see.

I took a deep breath of that lovely morning air. But then shortly regretted doing so, as the air smelled like human poop.

I had to pinch my nose for us to go in.

“Borning,” I said with a nod as I passed by the townsfolk.

Nobody answered. They just stared rudely at me as if they’d seen a ghost, frozen in place.

That was understandable. Even back at Earth smalltown folks were skeptical of outsiders. And I literally just got there.

There was tall building ahead, with a sign outside saying Inn.

“Don’t bind if I do!”

I used to drink occasionally after work. And as far as I remembered, inns and taverns were social places in medieval times.

I dismounted in front of the establishment, muffled chatter and clattering of earthenware coming from within.

“I’ll back in a few hours.”

Dingus neighed. I didn’t see anywhere to tie him up, but I didn’t think anyone was going to steal him.

I opened the doors and went in.

“Good morning!” I said.

The room fell silent, aside from the jar falling on the floor with a crack.

I shrunk inside my robes.

“What’s... up?”

Nobody answered me again. A pair of figures in the corner stood up slowly.

One of them had a wide, pointy hat. The other was covered in plate armor.

The armored guy unsheathed a long sword.

The pointy hat stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Someone needs to warn the king,” he said.

“No. I couldn’t leave you to—”

“Idiot!” he said, cutting the other short. “Just make sure my sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

Big armor guy swallowed, then nodded in silence.

Pointy hat nodded too, determined looks on their faces.

“Oi,” I said, puzzled beyond reason at the whole drama. “What is this all about?”

They flinched at my voice for some reason, but ignored me, nonetheless.

“Go!”

“Teleportation!”

Big Fella disappeared before my eyes as Funny Hat waved his arms around.

“What the hell.”

He turned to me, sweat streaming down his face. He was trying to look confident, but it wasn’t working so well.

“Let’s do this, Demon Lord.”

The other patrons sprung to their feet in panic, tables turning and stools flying as they scrambled around the inn for cover.

“Huh?”

The female innkeeper let out a piercing shriek, shaking with fear, as the wizard stretched his hands towards me and cried:

“Fireball!”

“Huh?!”

The thing flew at me like the devil’s spit.

I heard the gaming folks talking about this fireball thing back at Earth. But the only game I ever played was the one where it’s acceptable to throw banana peels at your fellow racers. I thought it wasn’t very sportsmanlike, so I never played it again.

But anyways, I was about to be cremated prematurely by a literal ball of fire. I thought he was joking when he said that.

What do I do?!

[Choose level 1 skill. Skill points available to allocate: 10.]

I don’t even know how to use these things!

[The system will choose Akuma’s Level 1 skill.]

No, wait! What are my options?

[Nausea touch. Slippery touch. Summon small monster. Shield—]

Shield! I want shield! Why would I even pick slippery touch?!

The voice went silent. No additional instructions on how to use it.

But Funny Hat cried out the name of his stuff, so I thought I might as well do the same.

“Shield!”

A blue force shield appeared between me and the incoming fireball.

“It worked—”

My celebration was cut short as it exploded against the shield. The flaming tongues rounded the small thing protecting me and set the edges of my clothes ablaze.

I turned tail and ran, screaming for my life as I burned alive in my fancy robes.

“Dingus, let’s go!”

I threw myself on his back.

But as I looked around me, I realized that we were surrounded by the town’s militia.

Tears mounted under my eyes.

Dingus took the initiative. He yanked back with a loud, hellish neigh, shooting his forelegs skywards as I hugged him tight.

A line of fire slashed the air before us, then opened wide, revealing the palace beyond it.

“I just wanted a drink!”

Dingus leaped through the portal, which snapped shut and disappeared as we landed in safety back in the throne room.

"Good boy, Dingus! I didn't know you could do that."

He stomped the floor, proudly.

The Gretchlings rushed in to help.

“Water!”

“Freezing touch!”

“Snowball!”

I raised my arms.

“Oi! That’s too much!”

Mog approached. He said nothing.

“You want to say you warned me, don’t you?”

He drew circles at the ground with his foot, hands behind his back.

“Fine. Teach me about this whole skill thing. I want to learn. Otherwise, I feel like I’m going to just die again.”

Mog’s face lit up.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

Thanks for reading Chapter II: A good boy from Hell.

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