Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

Another bonus of their renegotiated Contract was that it should make Cyna less likely to bash Simon's skull in.

She would have failed in the attempt, of course. Springwater Village was a Subjugated territory, so his stats were doubled as long as he resided within its walls.

Somehow, though, he doubted that would stop her from trying. Even with zero chance of winning, she would've risked everything if she thought his death would rescue Bastian from a lifetime of Fell enslavement.

Which was why Simon was planning to cut out the middleman and offer her a Boon Contract.

Unfortunately, Cyna was here to stay. She and Bastian were practically tied at the hip. In lieu of canceling the Swordsman's Contract outright – or subduing his lover and locking her in a box somewhere, and boy would that go over swimmingly – this was the best way Simon could think of to prevent her from interfering.

It could backfire. She might very well interpret his overture as thinly-veiled manipulation...which it basically was. But if he played his cards right, he was confident that he could frame his proposal in a way that would satisfy her two necessary criteria:

Killing nobles and protecting Bastian.

Demonic Boons were unlike anything else in Valtia. They represented an unparalleled capacity for growth. Cyna wasn't blind – she'd seen how Bastian was faster, stronger, better.

The Swordsman had once claimed that he was the weak link of their duo. That dichotomy had been reversed overnight, just from him making one tiny little insignificant deal with the devil.

How could she hope to stand by his side if he continued to outpace her? Duke Helmund's soldiers were going to be even stronger than Piers' retinue. What if she became a burden, a hindrance? Either she could remain as she was, a warrior of only moderate renown, doomed to wallow in obscurity...

Or she could sign on the dotted line.

Wasn't too different from how Simon had convinced Bastian with 'you'll kill nobles and save Cyna'. Birds of a feather, those two.

Though her Contract would have to be more lenient than Bastian's. He had only accepted stricter terms because of a nerve-wracking cocktail of pressure, panic, and extreme circumstances. Between the guardsmen attacking the Barrier and the sight of his tortured unconscious girlfriend, there really hadn't been much breathing room for him to think.

Springwater Village was a slightly less stressful environment than that. Unless Duke Helmund's armies invaded within the next thirty minutes, Simon probably wouldn't be able to swing an obedience Clause this time.

That was fine as well. Boons weren't permanent. If Cyna turned out to be a bad hire, then he could always rescind his offer. He mostly wanted her as another weapon to point at his enemies – Level 21 combined with Grant Boon's retroactive Level boost was a tantalizing prospect – and he wasn't opposed to shopping around if someone more reliable came along.

Naturally, his plan was derailed the moment she opened her mouth.

"What is the full extent of Bastian's Contract?" Cyna immediately asked, fixing Simon with a glare of tempered steel. "I wish to know what you've done to him."

Going on the offensive already? Simon shrugged, then read out all seven Clauses. He didn't have anything to hide.

When he was finished, Cyna's gaze softened by a fraction. "Not as dire as I'd presumed."

"You didn't ask Bastian about it?"

"I did, but he's prone to bending the truth if it would shield me from the harshness of reality. You could both be lying, but what you've said fits what I've seen thus far."

She tilted her head, examining Simon with a clinical look. "You know, I have spent every day in Springwater debating whether or not to kill you."

He put on a cheery smile. "And yet here I stand, hale and hearty. Decided I'm not so bad?"

"You're better than the Ancient-accursed blackguards I've sworn to fight. That much, I'll give you."

Cyna matched his smile with one of her own; all teeth, no mirth. "Suppose I'll have to keep a watchful eye. Could be that you lead us to glory. Could be that you're a two-faced snake. You'll reveal your true colors in due time, one way or another."

So the jury's still out? Simon thought. I can work with that.

He should table the offer of a Contract for now. Instead, he would continue to assess Cyna as a potential Boon-Bearer, while she would scrutinize him for signs of Demonic duplicity. A period of mutual observation and judgement.

"That's reasonable," he said. "I'll let you know in advance if you're becoming too much of a problem for me. That way, we discuss what to fix before I have no choice but to kill you."

Cyna narrowed her eyes – not out of malice, but confusion. "I've never met someone who acts so strangely as you."

"You wouldn't be the first to say that."

--

And lastly – Marlene.

He found the Hurricane leader reclining on a chair outside, basking beneath the noontime sun. She'd spent her time in Springwater recovering from Helmund's rampage. Despite Simon body-blocking any errant mana blasts, the Duke's unrestrained aura of power had nearly extinguished her life like a candle in a snowstorm.

It seemed to have taken the wind out of her sails. Assassinating Piers had been an incredible, impossible feat, the culmination of decades of false starts and broken promises, the most progress she'd ever made towards fulfilling her dream...

But what did it matter when his father still reigned? They had only barely managed to kill Piers – a mortal man. Powerful, yet still mortal, and still a man.

How could they topple the walking natural disaster that was Duke Helmund?

"You neglected to inform me that you'd seized a village," Marlene began. She didn't turn to look at Simon, instead watching people in the distance as they went about their lives. "Lucia Evergreen may be Mayor of Springwater, but you are its ruler in all but name."

"The topic didn't cross my mind," Simon honestly replied. "Wasn't relevant to our mission."

"Our mission. Hmm."

Just for a moment, Marlene's posture sagged with the weight of years. "That was the Hurricane's second try at slaying Piers. The first...cost us dearly. It went so poorly that I doubt he even realized that it was an attempt on his life. In truth, my hope died that day. I'd made my peace with being a rodent clawing at the ankles of the nobility, and no more than that."

She tightly laced her fingers together. "Then you revealed yourself – and hours later, a Helmund is dead. Hours."

Her gaze snapped towards him. "How long, Simon? Days? Weeks? How long were you orchestrating this outcome? Did you know precisely how everything would play out the very instant your claws touched Piers' throat?"

Simon remained quiet. Marlene was perceptive enough that she might catch him lying if he spoke. Better to let her form her own assumptions.

"...So be it." The Hurricane leader sighed, sinking into her chair. "Couldn't trust anything you say regardless. Would be a fool to, after what I've witnessed. Just promise me one thing."

A note of savagery crept into her tone. "Tear out Duke Helmund's vile beating heart. Do that, and I don't care what kind of tyrant you become afterwards. You couldn't possibly be worse than what we've already endured."

Simon chuckled. "A ringing endorsement. You needn't worry so much, though."

If only because the bar was atrociously low. Voice-In-The-Sky had confirmed that Valtia would perish if Helmund wasn't slain.

Wasn't hard to be a better leader than someone jumpstarting the apocalypse.

"That so?" Her lips twitched with amusement. "Then keep fighting, Simon. Fight until not one of them is left alive."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He was forced to turn away so she wouldn't see the look on his face. Yeah. Alright.

Fighting, I can do.

**

Nine Years Prior

The principal's office was likely meant to seem intimidating. It was cold, austere, and the head honcho himself was seated at the forefront, scowling with disapproval.

Simon didn't mind. Getting out of class was a win in his book, and scowls from a stuffy old man weren't scary. The principal couldn't punish him in any way that mattered.

But his parents absolutely could. He sat up straighter as they stormed into the room, adopting an innocent, wide-eyed gaze that would have put a baby lamb to shame.

Based on their tense expressions, they weren't buying it. Why does that never work? he wondered. Other kids do it just fine. Is it something on my face?

"There you are." The principal nodded at Simon's parents, then gestured towards two empty seats. "I'm glad that both of you are able to join us today, Mr. and Mrs–"

"My son is being bullied?" his mother hissed, her voice cracking like a whip.

An uncomfortable silence crawled on. Simon's mother sent the principal her patented Prosecutor Stare, looming over his desk with the murderous air of a gargoyle. Her husband leisurely took a seat as if he was used to this sort of thing, giving their son an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

The principal cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, buying time until he could muster the nerve to speak. "I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'bullying'," he put forth. "Simon has had difficulties making friends, that much is true, but–"

"Don't you dare try to fucking rules lawyer me. That is literally my job." Her cheeks crept upward into a snarl. "I can see the bruises on him. Where did those come from, hmm? Gonna tell me he tripped and fell?"

"Ma'am, there was an altercation."

"Oh, of course! An altercation. Then why is Simon the only one sitting in your office right now? I know my son. He wouldn't throw a punch unless someone had damn well earned it. You schools and your zero tolerance policies, always punishing whoever defends themselves while letting the aggressors off with a slap on the–"

"He broke someone's arm!" the principal blurted out.

A pause. Slowly, Simon's mother and father turned to face him. "Is that true?" his father softly asked.

"Yes." No point in lying. There'd been plenty of witnesses, and it wasn't like Simon felt guilty about it.

"Why?" his father asked next, still softly.

"Mom was right. They were bullying me."

It was a gradual escalation of events. Insults first. Then harsher insults. Pranks. Pushing. Tripping. Stealing. Little punches. Bigger punches.

Simon had informed the teachers. Tried every strategy they told him. Ignore the bullies, reason with them, meet their cruelty with kindness...none of it worked.

Until today, when he'd devised a strategy of his own.

"Simon." His mother knelt down in front of him, her eyes shimmering with pity that burned at him. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Already cause too much trouble for you, was what he thought. Didn't want to disappoint you more.

"I don't know," was what he said.

His parents shared a glance, their faces unreadable. "How did you break someone's arm?" his father ventured.

"Held him down and stomped."

All three of the adults winced. "That's…" His father let out a nervous laugh, looking over at his wife. "Honey? Didn't the psychiatrist recommend that we filter what he watches on TV?"

"I didn't get it from TV," Simon explained. "Got it from a book. And it worked. Isn't that what you're supposed to do in a fight? Hit them as hard as you can? End it right away?"

"Suppose you got that from a book as well?" the principal remarked. He was examining Simon with one of those searching looks that adults often gave him. As if he was a puzzle missing pieces.

Simon hated that look. It never led to something nice.

"I suggest you keep quiet," his mother seethed, her anger reigniting. "This happened because of your staff's negligence. The hell are we even paying you for, if you couldn't handle a spat between grade-schoolers before it spiraled out of control?"

"We can only do so much," the principal retorted. "Especially if his parents are teaching him to...how did he phrase it? End his fights right away?"

"We didn't teach him that, you insufferable–"

"You did," Simon interjected.

Silence again. Everyone looked at him with expressions of bafflement. "What?" his mother said.

"You told me that before. When I asked why you take on the tough cases that no one else wants. You said...if there's a battle worth fighting, then you can't avert your eyes from it. Need to face it head-on, without blinking. Have to hit hard and fast, using any means necessary, and you don't stop until it's over."

His mother ran her hands down her face. "Oh. I see." She stared up at the ceiling. "God damnit."

"Simon?" His father tagged in. "What your mother said isn't...wrong, per se. Thing is, you're neglecting some very important context. Maybe you couldn't have resolved this situation without fighting–"

The principal let out a noise of disapproval. It went ignored.

"–But breaking bones goes too far. The punishment has to fit the crime."

It did, though? One arm is a fair trade for weeks of making my life miserable.

He managed to stop himself before saying that out loud. "I warned them yesterday," Simon defended. "Told them that I would break an arm if they didn't leave me alone. They just laughed."

Probably thought he was bluffing. Lesson learned – when threatening someone, he needed to make sure they believed it.

"Let's look at this logically," his father offered. When his parents realized that he and them weren't seeing things eye-to-eye, they usually tried this approach. "What benefits do you gain from escalating to this degree of violence? While the bullies may not harass you again, other kids could be afraid to get close to you."

"That's okay."

His father frowned. "No, Simon. Making friends is important."

"I wouldn't have anyway," he said, shrugging. "If they're going to avoid me from now on, what difference will it make? No one likes talking to me."

For some reason, that statement, spoken with dispassionate objectivity, made his parents more upset than anything that had come before.

In the end, they were both correct. His father was right in that the other kids his age were wary of him moving forward. Making friends became virtually impossible.

And Simon was right in that he was okay with it. He was lonely, yes, but it was still a measurable improvement from his former circumstances. Spending his days in peaceful solitude didn't seem so bad.

Until one year later, when a phone call upended his life.

**

Would they approve of me?

It was a question he sometimes asked himself. Simon's parents had loved him, but they'd also fundamentally disagreed with him on many things.

He wasn't even going to bother wondering if they would be proud of him – not when he wasn't sure if they would approve of a single thing he'd done. Embracing the power of Fell mana, hunting people for EXP, designating himself judge, jury, and executioner...

What would they say, if they saw him now?

Well. At the very least, they couldn't have argued that he wasn't following their example. He'd found a battle worth fighting, and he wasn't stopping until it was over.

Although on second thought, they would definitely argue with him there. Beg on their hands and knees. Plead with him to turn back and save himself.

Because if they hadn't been so committed to fighting their battles, they might still be alive.