Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

Silence reigned. Several seconds went by, the pause feeling both long and short.

"...Pleasantries?" Piers repeated. He sounded utterly baffled, like he'd never heard the word before.

"It's only natural to test someone's mettle before forging a major Contract with them." Simon gestured around at the battle-scarred hallway. "How could I resist crossing swords with the scion of Helmund?"

"I, what, a Contract?" Piers rambled, his mind still in the process of rebooting. "With me?"

"Why do you think I journeyed all this way? To spend my days in Caelryn? This city is an affront to civilization. Today's merriment was the only enjoyment I've managed to eke out of this diseased, putrid landfill."

Simon sighed. "But alas, our time runs short. We should get down to business before the Hurricane lackwits interfere."

He hesitated. "Or...we can keep fighting, if you want?" A note of eagerness crept into his tone.

Piers reacted as if he'd heard the click of a gun being loaded. "No need for that," he rushed out. "You wish to form a Contract with me? To strike an accord? I am not opposed, depending on the terms."

The Demon chuckled. "Terms? Very well, I'll humor the notion. What terms would you find acceptable?"

It was a testament to how frightened Piers was that he didn't protest being looked at with obvious disdain. "I...you must understand, there are issues my father would vehemently oppose. If you are attempting to give the rebels a foothold in the Severed Isles, then–"

"The rebels were a means to an end." Simon glanced upwards at the next floor above, where Katarina, Bastian, and the Hurricane were battling for dear life against Piers' retinue. A flash of concern sparked within him.

He stifled it before it could show on his face. "They made for good pawns, useful weapons to clear a path for me, but weapons must be discarded when they start to rust. If you don't cull them after we've finished our negotiations, I'll do the honors myself."

Piers blinked. The nobleman straightened his posture, regaining some of his mental footing. He was still terrified, but a powerful warrior acting like a self-serving tyrant was familiar ground for him. "If not the rebels, then you must have been sent by the Demon Queen of Ashora? I'll warn you now, my father would be even more vexed to cede influence to her."

Ashora – the northern nation ruled by Demons. It was a fair assumption to make. Who else could Simon be, if not one of the Queen's handpicked elites? Riling up the Hurricane, publicly targeting royalty...those were the actions of a foreign saboteur seeking to undermine the Severed Isles from within.

Simon couldn't let that assumption stand, though. His facade of invincibility would lose its luster if Piers thought he was subordinate to someone.

"Ashora?" The transmigrator laughed, Fell mana gathering around his arm. "I'm not here on behalf of Ashora, little Helmund."

Piers flinched as the lights began to dim. Shadows grew larger, deepening with an inky blackness that stretched over the walls and floor. Frenzied murmurs whispered from everywhere and nowhere, slithering into his ears, subtle and insistent.

Simon held his arm aloft, willing a Contract to be scrawled in the air above. "I'm here on behalf of me."

Clause 1: This Contract will be between the Contractor, known as Simon, and the Contractee, named Piers Helmund. Simon is the initiator of this Contract.
Clause 2: By presenting this Contract, Simon guarantees that he is not affiliated in any way with the Demon Queen or the nation of Ashora, nor does he possess any loyalty towards them.
Clause 3: From now on, Simon will not kill or physically injure Piers Helmund in any way.
Clause 4: From now on, Piers Helmund will not kill or physically injure Simon in any way.
Clause 5: Effective immediately, Piers Helmund shall transfer sovereignty and authority of Caelryn City over to Simon, who will henceforth be named lord ruler of the city.
Clause 6: In addition to declaring this transfer himself, Piers Helmund will also go fetch the current High Lord of Caelryn City and have him similarly yield authority to Simon. This action shall be performed at Simon's behest.

Piers struggled to retain his composure as he read through the Contract. "Then you are called Simon," he muttered, glancing down at his own maimed torso. "A normal name, for one so fierce."

Gotta fix that eventually. Although he wasn't sure how. The Contract magic would fail if he didn't specify his real name somewhere in there – his Demonic instincts had informed him as much. He could make up an impressive-sounding title for himself, but that wouldn't fly unless it was known and accepted by others. Simon 'Cobblestone' had already been pushing it.

Thankfully, Piers didn't seem to care that an elite Demon had an ordinary human name. He was far too preoccupied with Clauses 2 and 5. "You intend to seize control of Caelryn City for yourself? Not for Ashora?"

"I owe no fealty to the Demon Queen," Simon claimed, projecting an air of disinterest. "Why do her bidding when I could spread my wings instead? A place like Caelryn is...beneath me, to be honest, but land is land, and authority is authority. We must all start somewhere."

He would've loved to include a Clause that forced complete and total obedience, but no amount of fear could make Piers agree to that. Even if the nobleman was afraid for his life, binding himself to a Demon would result in a fate worse than death.

Or so he would have presumed...and in this case, rightfully so.

"You propose a ceasefire." Piers re-read the Contract, licking his lips with nervous energy. "Neither of us will harm each other ever again. In exchange, I shall grant you sovereignty of Caelryn City."

He wasn't officially High Lord of the city, but that scarcely mattered when his orders were absolute. While he couldn't have overruled his father's wishes, Duke Helmund was hands-off about Caelryn as a whole, electing to leave his son to his devices. Piers was the true authority of Caelryn City, and everyone knew it.

The system would too.

"I don't mind dueling to the death if that's what you'd prefer." The Demon grinned. "A soul such as yours, so flush with mana, would make for a luxurious feast. But few people can give me the kind of sport you did today. If I devour everyone capable of making me exert a bit of effort, then who will be left to help keep my claws sharp?"

It was the logic of a madman, yet it fit neatly into the character that Simon had constructed. He wasn't a preliminary vanguard from Ashora – he was merely an impulsive berserker, reveling in the sweet ambrosia of combat and carnage.

The easiest lies were sprinkled with truth. Simon didn't care about Ashora or the Demon Queen, and he had very much enjoyed mutilating the Helmund scion. He fed those sincere emotions into his voice as he spoke, barely even needing to put on a performance this time.

Piers read over the Contract once again, his thoughts plain on his face. He was going to sign it. There was no reason not to. It would stop an insane Demon from killing him and eating his soul, and the tradeoff wasn't really a tradeoff.

So what if he lost Caelryn City? Duke Helmund would just come storming in with an army and take it right back. Powerful as this Fell creature may be, he was clearly in over his head without knowing it. His star would shine brightly for a brief moment, then be extinguished like so many upstarts before him.

Despite all that, the Piers of yesterday still wouldn't have accepted the Contract. He would've realized that if a deal seemed too good to be true, then it probably was.

The Piers of now, however? Scared, beaten, and bleeding his guts out onto the floor?

"Very well." He nodded, relief spreading across his face. "Your terms are agreeable."

The Piers of now would sign his own death warrant.

In a flash, the surrounding air thickened with mana. Simon suppressed his anticipation as two more lines materialized at the bottom of the Contract.

Contractor: Simon
Contractee: Piers Helmund

An unearthly voice echoed within both their minds. It was dispassionate and indifferent; the arbiter of Fell bargains.

THIS CONTRACT IS FORGED.

The blackened scrawl vanished.

Simon gave a bow. "Pleasure doing business with you." He gestured at the nobleman. "Your turn."

Piers breathed out a sigh, shivering as if he'd received a stay of execution. "Of course. By the authority vested in me, as heir to the Helmund name, I hereby bequeath sovereignty of Caelryn City unto you. You shall rule it henceforth."

At those words, a system notification burst forth like a ringing gong.

Territory Subjugated: Caelryn City!

While residing within a subjugated territory, your stats will dramatically increase!

Simon tensed as his body was infused with a surge of power. Smile widening, he opened his Character Sheet.

Level: 31
HP: 87 / 460 (174 / 920)
MP: 150 / 630 (300 / 1260)
Strength: 43 (86)
Dexterity: 42 (84)
Vitality: 46 (92)
Intelligence: 63 (126)

All of his stats had doubled. Same as when he'd subjugated Springwater Village.

'If the established leader or governing body of a village, town, city, or any similar settlement yields authority to you, then you are granted dominion of the aforementioned area.'

Simon had been mostly certain that Piers would count as an 'established leader. He'd also included Clause 6 as a failsafe, just in case the official High Lord of Caelryn needed to yield authority too, but it seemed that wouldn't be necessary.

They were done here.

"BASTIAN!" Simon peered upward, raising his voice as loud as he could. "KILL PIERS!"

The sounds of battle above came to a momentary halt, as if everyone was frozen with confusion. Confident that his order had been heard, the transmigrator activated one of the new abilities from his Class Advancement.

Empower: Boon-Bearer. 'For the next sixty seconds, their stats shall increase to match your current Level.'

A commotion stirred. Soldiers yelped as they were shoved aside. Seconds later, Bastian appeared at the top of the hole that Piers had broken open earlier–

And then jumped down, cursing Simon's name as he fell.

Each floor of the villa had an absurdly high ceiling. It was a long way down. Even so, Bastian landed with the grace of a cat, feet-first and unharmed. The Swordsman stared down at himself, surprised at his abrupt increase in Dexterity and Vitality.

Piers stared along with him. "Who is that?" He frowned. "A rebel? You told him to kill me?" His frown morphed into a sneer. "If this is a jest, Demon, then it is a poor one–"

Simon dashed forward in sudden a blur of motion.

It was a near thing, even with doubled stats. Piers reacted instantly, fleeing with the fervor of a man reduced to his base instincts, using mana to propel himself ever faster.

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The transmigrator was just a hair quicker. Not by much...

But enough.

Simon grabbed hold of Piers' arms, clutching each limb in a vice grip, making sure not to cause 'physical injury' and violate Clause 3. Both of them stood locked in place.

"Where's the rush?" The Demon leaned closer to his squirming prey, eyes glittering with malice. "I haven't introduced you to my friend yet."

Spurred on by the terms of his Contract, Bastian chased after them. His face was a maelstrom of shifting emotions as he realized that Piers was trapped, wounded, and vulnerable.

Simon hadn't commanded the rebel to Kill in order to use him as a distraction. This was real.

All he had to do was swing his sword.

Frantic as Piers was, an inkling of comprehension still managed to spark within his addled mind. The Contract had been a smokescreen. He'd been baited by the promise of a ceasefire. Somehow, transferring authority of Caelryn City – which should have been empty, pointless words – had significantly enhanced the Demon's speed and strength.

That was what Simon had been aiming for from the very beginning. He knew his chances of winning a straight fight were slim at best. Therefore, he needed the doubled stats from Subjugate Territory. Therefore, he needed to convince Piers to yield authority of Caelryn.

Therefore, he needed to gaslight the nobleman into believing that a Contract would save his miserable, rotten life.

The mutual ceasefire had been an unfortunate yet vital concession. Piers would never have signed otherwise. It was a shame, but Simon couldn't deal the finishing blow himself.

He had an Empowered Bastian for that.

Like the falling edge of a guillotine, the rebel's blade drew near.

Piers responded accordingly. Clause 4 prevented him from harming the Demon keeping him restrained, but everything else was fair game. With a desperate cry of terror that forced blood to spurt from his ravaged throat, he unleashed dual streams of mana, his sheer, unmitigated power illuminating the hall once more.

The first stream was directed at Bastian, seeking to scour him from existence. The second was angled down at the floor, intending to break open a new emergency exit. Had either venture succeeded, Piers would likely have survived.

Two 150 MP Barriers cut his hopes short. Simon imbued the spells with all of his remaining MP, positioning one in front and one below. The nobleman's last-ditch effort clashed against shields of Fell mana, wagering his life on the strength imparted by his lineage.

He almost won. The Barriers were cracking, succumbing, about to shatter. If Piers had just half a second more, a quarter of a second...

But he didn't. It was too late.

Bastian had caught up.

Simon watched intently, burning the sight into his memories, savoring the moment like a fine wine. His eyes followed Bastian's sword as it crept around the front-facing Barrier. He observed closely as expertly-wielded steel found its mark, digging into the spot where Piers' neck was most wounded.

The heavenly sound of sundered flesh crept into his ears as the Empowered rebel pushed, gripping his sword with both hands, putting his entire body weight into this one strike.

There was pressure, resistance – but not for long. With a final burst of strength, the cork popped.

Piers' head went rolling onto the ground.

All was quiet. The dual streams of mana disappeared in a heartbeat. Bastian gaped at his blood-soaked sword, mesmerized by what he'd just done.

Simon released the noble's headless body, which slumped to the floor with a wet, muted plop.

It's over. The transmigrator let out a protracted sigh, his posture sagging as belated exhaustion crashed into him. That was...dicey. Very, very dicey.

Next time, I think I'll come up with a plan before assaulting royalty in broad daylight.

"I..." Bastian took an unconscious step back. "He's dead. We, we slew a Helmund."

The rebel chuckled nervously, wringing his hands. "How did–"

Violent mana began radiating from Piers' decapitated head, pouring out of every orifice.

Simon didn't scream the order to kill – by the time he'd opened his mouth, Bastian was already sprinting forward. The Swordsman slammed his blade down like a hammer, bashing Piers again and again, eschewing precision and finesse in favor of annihilating the head right goddamn now.

After a concerning amount of time, where pieces of meat were continually reduced to yet-tinier pieces, the mana gradually stopped shining. Nothing remotely resembling Piers Helmund was left. You couldn't even tell that the red, gory scattering of flesh had once belonged to a human.

Simon still only relaxed when the system notifications started rolling in.

Alert: Piers Helmund has been slain!

Your Level and Stats have increased!
Level: 31 → 35

16 stat points added to Unspent Points! Allocate them at will!

Bastian had dealt the killing blow, so Simon only earned half the EXP he normally would have. Just as he was thinking that it was a necessary sacrifice to achieve victory, more system notifications popped into view.

Alert: Heroic Valor's bonus has activated!

For pruning the Helmund family tree, you have received bonus EXP!

Addendum: Heroic Valor shall also award bonus-bonus EXP to make up for that which was 'lost' by not personally killing Piers. Don't expect this to become a habit.

Your Level has increased!
Level: 35 → 40

20 stat points added to Unspent Points! Allocate them at will!

Offering silent – yet begrudging – thanks to Heroic Valor, Simon patted Bastian on the shoulder, halting the rebel mid-swing. "You can stop attacking. Piers is gone."

"Are you certain? Because–"

"Yes. Demon magic told me so."

Bastian gazed suspiciously at the pulpy crimson mess he'd created, as if waiting for the pieces to glow with mana and re-form like fleshy Legos. Simon left the Swordsman to his vigil, turning to look down at Piers' headless body.

I dedicate this kill to you, victims of the Sanctuary Grove. Even if Piers didn't remember your faces, I will.

That was all the time he had to spare for solemnity. The transmigrator promptly seized the corpse, and using his doubled Strength, threw it up towards the ceiling.

Simon's aim was true. He felt a glimmer of petty pride as the corpse sailed through the ceiling hole, depositing itself onto the next floor above – where the Hurricane and Piers' retinue were still engaged in battle.

"THE SCION OF HELMUND IS VANQUISHED!" he bellowed. "LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS AND SURRENDER! NO SECOND CHANCE FOR CLEMENCY SHALL BE OFFERED!"

Without waiting to see how the soldiers would react, Simon bolted for the nearest set of stairs. Either they would be broken and demoralized, unable to go on...or they would fight twice as hard to avenge their liege lord. He didn't know which.

And he wasn't leaving Kat alone to deal with the results of that coin flip.

--

As it turned out, the soldiers capitulated pretty much the instant they saw Piers' headless body.

For all that was worth.

The fighting upstairs had been a bloodbath. Out of the entire Hurricane assassination squad, only six people remained: Katarina, Bastian, Cyna, Marlene, and two other rebels. They had fought hard, decimating their opponents, but they couldn't stop the royal retinue from inflicting severe casualties in return.

Simon felt strangely vindicated that he'd pushed himself to his limit and killed Piers as swiftly as possible. If their duel had dragged on for any longer, Kat might have died. Or Bastian, or all of them. Expedient risk-taking had won them the day.

Everyone in the panic room was staring blankly at Piers' corpse. Both the rebels and the soldiers were at a loss for words, standing motionless, like a dozen living monuments made to commemorate the end of an era. Bastian joined them shortly after, adding his own stunned silence to the gallery as well.

Eventually, Marlene found her voice. "My apologies, Simon." She spoke in a light, airy tone, as if half-convinced this was a dream, and that she'd be waking up any moment now. "We meant to fight alongside you. Tried jumping down the hole, exiting the room. The guards barred our path."

"No worries. We won anyway."

"I...suppose we have." She massaged her temples. "How did you...how? Forgive my discourtesy, but Piers' strength far surpassed what you seemed capable of."

'Forgive my discourtesy?' Simon swallowed a laugh. Yeah, she's definitely trying to stay in my good books. Can't blame her, considering what I just pulled off.

"I trapped Piers in a bad Contract," the transmigrator explained. "Wasn't nearly as even-handed with him as when I negotiated with you. That, and I..."

He trailed off. "I exploited a blind spot."

Terrifying the living daylights out of Piers had only been half the equation. The other half relied on him not demanding that new Clauses be added.

Because no part of their Contract had afforded him protection from the Hurricane.

Simon hadn't needed to manipulate him for that bit. Piers wouldn't have bothered even without an intimidating, nightmarish Demon urging him to sign.

Upstart rebels? Commoner trash of low birth and lower mana? Them, a potential threat?

The thought never once crossed his mind.

"Should we retrieve the prick's head?" Cyna suddenly interjected. "As proof, I mean."

Simon and Bastian shared a glance. "That...would be rather difficult," the Swordsman admitted, almost sounding sheepish. "There isn't much left to retrieve."

One of the soldiers let out a despairing sob. Katarina gave Simon their pre-determined hand signal for 'nicely done.' The Arcane Rogue had benefited greatly from Piers' death as well – she should be around Level 25 now.

Breathing deep, Marlene turned to address the Hurricane. She didn't seem much in the mood for an inspiring speech, but hey, someone had to.

"We have sacrificed much to reach this point," she began. "Those who–"

The world tilted on its axis.

Simon was overcome by a distinct sensation of...imbalance. Not physical imbalance – ethereal. As if all the mana in the city had shifted one step sideways, drawn to a singular source with its own gravitational pull.

It didn't take him long to adjust. His mana stabilized soon enough. But the pull remained, persistent and oppressive.

By the looks of it, everyone else in the room had felt the same thing. Kat was wearing a confused expression. As for the Hurricane rebels and the soldiers...

Dread. Pure, all-consuming dread.

Marlene hurried over to the closest window, looking out. Simon followed her gaze to a building located farther in the upper city district. If he was remembering correctly, it housed a Waystation Crystal.

Reserved solely for royalty.

A voice resounded across Caelryn City. As if beset by an earthquake, the foundations of Piers' villa trembled.

"WHERE IS MY SON?!"