How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 8 Read online

  “It all just aligned with my interests.”

  “I was almost forced to marry Drango, but you saved me from that too.”

  “You’d be surprised how articulate he can be. He might have granted you a happy home, you know?”

  He may look like an orc, but his abilities and personality weren’t too bad. It was no wonder the queen nominated him to be the next king.

  “Mmm...” Shera tilted her head. “He may be a really nice elf, but...something feels off about him.”

  “Your intuition is as sharp as ever.”

  Drango was a bona fide small breast lover, while Shera was the unusual case of a busty elf after all.

  Diablo felt his gaze wander toward Shera. Her dress didn’t have that much fabric to it, and exposed her skin a fair bit. Her natural swellings seemed propped to spill out of it.

  Am I allowed to touch them now?

  He’d only ever touched them on accident, never voluntarily for no reason other than simply wanting to touch them.

  I can touch a girl’s boobs just because I want to now?!

  “Am I really allowed to do that...?”

  “What’s wrong, Diablo?”

  “Ah, nothing.”

  It’s okay, right?! Diablo shook his head. We’re a married couple now! A married couple! Even though I can’t talk to women... I never even had a girlfriend!

  It felt like a pill bug was not only forced, but also suddenly able to fly under the sun.

  Is Shera really happy marrying a pill bug like me?

  Diablo’s pacifism was settling in at full force. Shera was the sole survivor of the elven royal bloodline, and had to marry someone or the forest would lose its blessings. This was a political marriage, and she chose Diablo because he was wrong. That was the only reason.

  Shera called him her companion before, but he didn’t recall her ever having looked at him romantically. She’d just said it herself, “Thank you so much for always saving me.” Gratitude and romance were different, something even a socially inept dunce like Diablo could understand.

  Defending someone from an enemy, healing their wounds, rescuing them from poverty... Those acts brought upon gratitude. But someone being grateful didn’t mean they’d fallen in love with you. If that were the case, doctors and police officers would all be hosting harems.

  Gratitude was one thing while love was another.

  Any guy who thinks a chick would fall in love with them just because they saved her are fundamentally overconfident.

  Diablo stopped his hand from extending toward Shera.

  “Diablo...love you...” Shera whispered as she closed her eyes.

  Diablo’s breath stuck in his throat. Those words echoed in his mind time and time again, their meaning becoming gradually clearer in his stupefied mind.

  “Shera, you...” He couldn’t hold back the tremor in his voice.

  “Aaah... Mmm...” With her eyes shut, she sighed quietly as she slumbered.

  “Huh? H-Hey?”

  “Nnn... Mmmm... I love...fruit too...”

  Diablo heaved out the breath that was stuck in his throat, sighing. “You’re talking in your sleep?!”

  I should have known!

  Shera’s chest moved up and down in accordance with her breath, as large and round as ever. But Diablo couldn’t do anything. If he was ever the kind to just act on his desires, he would have surely led a different life.

  Should I just go to sleep too...?

  That didn’t seem possible. If he’d spend the night lying next to Shera, unable to lay a finger on her like this, he’d probably be too agonized and end up staying awake the whole night.

  “...No... Guess I’ll sleep in the guest house.”

  He’d planned to leave Greenwood tomorrow, so he needed to recover his lost MP. Leaving behind Shera, who was fast asleep, Diablo walked out of the royal bedchambers.

  †

  He descended the large tree that made up the royal residence, using a branch he’d borrowed that was illuminated by magic. Its light soon illuminated someone’s figure.

  Who’s there?

  His gaze fell on a girl with black cat ears. Her limbs were short and her chest was small and level, but her form was toned and supple.

  “Huh?! Diablo, why are you...?!” Her dark eyes widened in surprise.

  “Rem. I could ask you the same question... What are you doing here?”

  “Err... I, uhm... When I thought of you and Shera spending the night together, it...it left me rather distraught.”

  “Hmm.” Diablo nodded sagely, but didn’t really understand why she was bothered.

  Maybe she knew how inexperienced he was, and was worried he might not do it well? Maybe she was worried about Shera? Or perhaps the idea of the Fallen attacking again left her anxious?

  “...I take it you’ve finished already?” Rem asked, her expression darkening.

  “Of—”

  He was about to say “of course,” but stopped himself. She’d likely talk to Shera tomorrow, and he’d be exposed for lying if he did. And lying just to keep up airs would make him look...put simply: really, totally lame.

  Diablo shrugged. “She fell asleep halfway through.”

  Rem sighed. “Yes, that sounds like something she would do. But I thought you would sleep beside her.”

  He couldn’t tell her the anxiety alone would keep him awake if he stayed there.

  “A bed of leaves does not agree with me.”

  “...I see. I imagine some would find it uncomfortable.”

  “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, as soon as we are able. You should get some rest.”

  “...Are we going back to Faltra?”

  Rem seemed to have returned to her usual, intelligent self. Diablo wondered why she’d acted so strangely a moment ago.

  As the two of them began walking toward the guest house, Diablo illuminated their surroundings with the branch he borrowed from the royal bed chambers.

  “Yes. For the time being, we’ll return,” Diablo told her of his plans.

  “...After that, will we be heading somewhere else? Sylvie asked us to help defend Faltra, if you recall.”

  The Citadel City of Faltra was a stronghold located on the frontlines of the races’ line of defense. The guildmaster of its Adventurer’s Guild, Sylvie, had asked Diablo and his friends to help in its defense against the Demon Lord’s army.

  “That is precisely why I must set out.”

  The way he was now, Diablo doubted his chances of beating the Demon Overlord. The Modinaram Diablo knew from Cross Reverie had extremely high stats, so if it grew stronger from absorbing other Demon Lords, there was no telling how powerful they were now. If nothing else, they’d be stronger than the event.

  Fighting a fused boss you’ve fought before is pretty standard in games though.

  “...If you say this is necessary, Diablo, it means it probably is,” Rem said with a small voice. “I intend to do everything within my power as well.”

  “Speaking of your powers...” Diablo suddenly felt inclined to ask something. “There was something I’ve been meaning to ask... Why did you choose to become a summoner, Rem? Pantherians are a race that excels at strength and agility. You would be more suited to be warriors.”

  “...Yes.”

  “Conversely, Pantherians also have low MP. This isn’t the most favorable class for you.”

  Summons would continually deplete their summoner’s MP for as long as they were materialized, and maintaining multiple ones meant the drain was that much more rapid.

  “...I thought it would be the safest path to take as an adventurer,” Rem said after a moment of silence. “I couldn’t allow myself to die, no matter what.”

  “Mm.”

  The Demon Lord Krebskulm had been sealed inside Rem’s body, passed down from mother to daughter like some hereditary curse.

  “...But, thanks to you, I was able to extract the Demon Lord’s soul from my body. And while I certainly have no intention of dying, maybe it would be a good idea to study a class I’m better suited for.”

  “Do you wish to become a warrior?”

  “...I still wish to become a more accomplished summoner. But the way things are going, I fear I won’t be of use to everyone.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “...My eyes couldn’t even keep up with the Fallen that attacked us today.”

  “Their level was quite high...”

  “...The truth is...” Rem hugged her shaking shoulders. “I noticed this a while ago. I’m... I’m weak.”

  Diablo couldn’t find the words to reply to Rem’s somber whisper. She was a level 50 summoner, and while the equipment she received in the Treasure Vault made her considerably stronger, it still wasn’t enough.

  Pausing for thought, Diablo then said, “To beat that Fallen, you would have to be at least level 100. That would mean breaking the limit of the races.”

  “...The limit, huh.”

  Diablo didn’t tell her he intended to raise his own skills as a warrior. He told Rose, but intended to keep it a secret from the others. Going away to train because the next opponent seemed difficult didn’t exactly fit a Demon Lord’s image. If anything, wasn’t waiting in the castle confidently while the hero toiled away to level up more fitting?

  “Do not fret.” Diablo reached his hand out to Rem’s head. “Strive onward. Chase after your ideal, no matter how far it may be, and don’t turn back from the road ahead of you. If you do this, you won’t have any regrets.”

  “...You’re right. I may have lost my sense of purpose now that Krebskulm’s soul has been extracted, and panicked when I saw how strong the Fallen can be.”

  “Just get some rest for now. Think of what to do next tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

>   Just as she said that, the guest house’s front door came into view.

  †

  As Greenwood didn’t have many visitors, its guest house wasn’t very large. After the entrance hall was a living room, with a table large enough for ten people.

  Bidding Rem goodnight, the two parted ways. There were two inner rooms: Rem and Rafflesia slept in the left room, and Diablo slept in the right. Closing the door behind him, Diablo stood in blinding darkness. He’d left the glowing branch in the living room, and while there were windows, the branches blocked out the moonlight.

  Diablo fumbled for the bed, when...

  Squish~

  Just as he was about to slip under the covers, his hand settled on something soft.

  “What...?”

  He brushed his hand over it.

  “Mmm...” A feminine moan filled his ears.

  “Who is this?!” Diablo’s eyes widened.

  His eyes gradually grew accustomed to the dark, and he realized someone was occupying the bed already. From what he was feeling, they were lying on their back. The bed’s occupant stirred, rising from their sleep.

  “Huh...? Lord Diablo... Your Majesty?”

  “That voice... Is that you, Rafflesia?”

  “Ah, yes.” Diablo couldn’t discern her expression, but did see her head nod.

  The one occupying the bed was the chief of the dark elves, Rafflesia. He may have been acting as a Demon Lord, but he still couldn’t get used to being called “Your Majesty” by the elves.

  “Why are you sleeping in this room?”

  “I heard you wouldn’t be usin’ it anymore...”

  That did make sense, now that she mentioned it. The king of the land would usually sleep in the royal residence.

  “...A bed of leaves does not agree with me.”

  “Is that so... I beg your pardon for occupyin’ the room then.”

  “Pay it no mind. You may stay as you are.”

  Diablo turned his back, preparing to leave the bed. Owing to her dark elven night vision, Rafflesia saw him do so and reached a hand out to stop him, resting it over Diablo’s own. Perhaps because she’d slept until just now, but it was cold and pleasant to the touch.

  “Wait, Your Majesty...”

  “What is it?”

  “You saved my life today. If my way of showin’ gratitude for that would be to keep you from your bed, the anxiety wouldn’t allow me to sleep.”

  Rafflesia had been manipulated by the Demon Lord Kardia, and almost killed in the end. If it weren’t for Diablo’s timely use of an Elixir, she wouldn’t be among the living right now.

  An Elixir was a healing salve that frequently appeared in fantasy stories, based on an alchemical legend. In Cross Reverie, it was a priceless potion that completely restored a player’s HP, MP, and SP, as well as curing them of all status ailments. Even Diablo didn’t have a limitless stock of them.

  In the meantime, he’d thought he’d find a comfortable root to rest his head on and spend the night there, but...

  Diablo nodded. “If you say so, I’ll sleep here.”

  “Yes,” Rafflesia said, approaching the edge of the bed.

  So we’ll be sleeping together...?

  Diablo couldn’t claim to not be interested in it. Rafflesia’s breasts were shockingly large since the dark elves had the largest bust size among the races, going beyond huge and all the way to giga boobs status.

  A normal guy would usually be pretty excited here, right...?

  If it were just sleeping next to her there wouldn’t be any problems. Diablo had a habit of assuming that a woman approaching him didn’t have anything to do with him, no matter how attractive she may be. Just the idea of spending the first night with his bride was enough to render him a nervous wreck.

  He did want to touch them a little but...it was just a thought. Or at least, so he believed...

  “Your Majesty, what happened with Queen Shera?”

  “H-How did you know?”

  If anything, the problem was that nothing happened.

  “If just a bed of leaves didn’t suit you, I assume you’d come here with Her Majesty.”

  “...Shera fell asleep first.”

  “Oh, my... Fallin’ asleep before the man does on her first night...”

  “Hmph...” He didn’t mean to make it sound like Shera was at fault here, but he also refrained from saying it happened because he was indecisive. A Demon Lord who didn’t know how to handle a woman simply wouldn’t fly.

  As he was about to suggest they go to sleep, a pair of cold hands pressed against his chest.

  “Mm?”

  “Your Majesty... If this is not too disrespectful... Would you allow me to quell your lust?”

  Lust?! Diablo felt his brain white out.

  Unable to gather his thoughts, the Demon Lord role play he’d accustomed himself to spoke in his stead.

  “Do as you wish.”

  †

  “Heheh... Excuse me then.”

  Rafflesia’s hands, which had been pressed against his chest so far, slid downward, touching him over his outfit. Diablo shrank back in surprise. He may have talked a big game, but his inner turmoil was driving him mad.

  “Hmph... What do you think you’re doing?” He spoke condescendingly, but these meager words were the most he could muster.

  “Any woman would find herself drawn to an attractive man,” Rafflesia answered as her fingers caressed him.

  “Stop lying,” Diablo denied her words immediately.

  Would it have been more Demon Lord-ly to agree to being called an attractive man? But while he may have been called frightening, scary, and abominable, he’d never once been called attractive before.

  Rafflesia’s hands slipped under his clothes, and Diablo found himself letting out a girlish shriek against his will.

  “Oh my...?” Her fingers touched his flaccid skin. “Perhaps you don’t find me attractive? Are dark elves not to your likin’?”

  “Uu... That’s...not it...”

  “Are you nervous then?”

  “C-Cease your blabbering. I am a Demon Lord. I’d never become nervous over this.”

  He was in a dark room, on top of a bed, with a woman handling him with experienced hands. In all honesty, he was shivering. It took all he had to stop that shivering from extending to his voice as he spoke.

  “Answer my question.”

  “My, what a bother... I did not lie when I said I find you attractive, Your Majesty... And this is a thanks, of sorts, for savin’ my life.”

  “With just this? Inconceivable.”

  “Does that not convince you? I didn’t think you were one to pursue the reasonin’ behind why someone would offer you kindness... I thought you would help yourself to the meal presented before you.”

  “Uuu...”

  He was likely demanding an explanation due to his inexperience. A normie would probably stop minding the little things in this situation and just enjoy the act.

  That’s impossible for me though...

  Her being attracted or grateful to him all struck him as lies, and without a convincing reason, he wouldn’t be able to calm down.

  Rafflesia used her fingertips to stimulate him, her gentle caress soothing his stiff body in just the right ways.

  “Heheheh... I see you’re beginnin’ to enjoy it a little?”

  “Ah, no, hmm...”

  “My feelin’s for you really are personal... But, yes. You were made king of Greenwood, Your Majesty. As the chief of the dark elves, I wish to form cordial relations with you.”

  “Ah, I see...”

  While Diablo couldn’t deny having two leaders of a group solidify their friendship like this struck him as a bit off, it was nonetheless a relatively convincing reason.

  The moment the tension began leaving him, a tingle ran through his spine, as if electricity jolted his lower half.

  “Ugh...”

  “Oh my, oh my... So suddenly... Amazin’.”

  “R-Really now?”

  “I can see you’re not very experienced.”

  She saw through me?!

  It felt as if she’d tightly gripped his heart.

  “Stop talking nonsense!” He raised his voice roughly. “Nng?!”

  Rafflesia sealed his lips with her own, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

  “Mwa...”

  “Nng?!”

  —She kissed him.