Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

The shouting began right on schedule.

Simon sat in a corner of the mansion's central lobby. A blanket was draped over his torso, covering him from the neck-down, like he'd just been awoken from a mid-morning nap. He patiently rested as the shouting intensified, a clamor rising in the distance as more people discovered what he'd done.

Eventually, a rebel spotted him while she was frantically running through the halls. She skidded to a halt, eyes bulging as Simon gave her a polite nod.

His courtesy was returned by the woman screaming "DEMON!" at the top of her lungs. People hurried towards the lobby, drawn by the sound of her apoplexy. One rebel became, ten, then fifty, then every single member of the Hurricane all gathered together – a writhing mass of vengeful fury.

I think this might be the angriest mob I've ever seen, Simon noted. They're just missing the torches and pitchforks.

They hadn't completely discarded their sense of self-preservation, though, so none of them stepped forward to confront him – not until Marlene arrived. The crowd parted as she advanced like a woman possessed, both hands gripping the hilts of her dual-swords. She came to a stop in front of the transmigrator, her thunderous expression matching the barely-contained wrath in her voice.

"What. Did. YOU. DO?!"

That should be evident based on what's left of the mana-container stockpile.

Simon kept his comments to himself. It was the absolute minimum he could do for everyone considering the heartache and grief they were about to experience.

"You've ruined it," Marlene seethed, answering her own question. "Every last container – empty! Smashed to pieces! Not a drop of mana remains!"

"Yes," Simon affirmed.

The Hurricane waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, Marlene let out a snarl that sounded eerily similar to a wild bobcat. "You two-faced whoreson traitor. I was a fool to let you roam our halls unimpeded. How long have you been planning to stab us in the back? Did you enjoy feasting on our bounty to bolster your own strength?"

Simon shook his head. "I didn't Harvest any of the mana in the containers. No point. The effects would've faded in minutes. To gain a permanent boost in power like Duke Helmund and Piers, you would need a decades-long drip feed of energy."

"Then WHY?!" Marlene's white-knuckled grips on her dual blades tightened even further. "Why crush our last hope for nothing? What purpose could you possibly hope to achieve?"

Two purposes, actually.

The first, he couldn't say. They would find out soon enough regardless.

The second...well, discussing it would at least help stall for time.

"I didn't want all of you to die," Simon said. "And don't try to pretend that the Last Resort would've gone any other way. Demons, Fell Beasts – doesn't matter what you end up becoming. Helmund would've annihilated everyone here. Honestly, you probably would've annihilated yourselves with Fell Beast friendly fire as you tried to corral your mutated allies towards him."

Marlene narrowed her eyes. "Is that so. You would have us believe that you destroyed our only chance of slaying Duke Helmund, of rescuing the loved ones he has imprisoned...out of the goodness of your heart?"

Simon shrugged with his left shoulder. "Close, but that sounds too lofty for what I'm feeling. It's more that the Last Resort would've been such a waste. As one of the people in charge of recruitment, I'm certain you understand how rare it is to find new blood willing to join a rebellion and battle tyranny. If the Hurricane gets wiped out, a successor wouldn't spring up to take the mantle for decades."

And you all still have a part to play, he thought. I'll need boots on the ground for what comes next.

"So you tore open the mana-containers and let the essence within disperse," Marlene added. Her tone was calmer than before, but it would've been more convincing if her glare wasn't so murderous. "For our sake, apparently."

"Correct. Didn't see any reason to let you needlessly throw your lives away. There's–"

"You had no right."

Bastian walked forward, his expression stained with disappointment – which somehow hurt Simon worse than all the Hurricane's rage combined. Unlike Marlene, he kept his hands away from his blade.

"I know it would've been difficult to watch," the Swordsman began, speaking softly. "When witnessed through your eyes, it must have seemed akin to lunacy. This was not a decision I would have wished upon my most hated foes."

He sighed. "Yet it was still our decision to make. Every man and woman here has joined together under one banner, one cause, one purpose. It is an ideal that we hold more sacred than our very lives. And while it may indeed be lunacy, the Last Resort's infinitesimal chance of success was higher than we ever dared to dream of before."

Bastian closed his eyes, as if mourning a loss. "You had no right, Simon. It was not your choice to make."

The transmigrator swept his gaze across the room. Marlene, Bastian, Cyna, Victoria, the other rebels...beneath their anger, he found a deep sense of betrayal. Like they were kicking themselves for ever putting faith in him.

They had no idea how justified that feeling was.

"Where is Katarina?" Cyna suddenly asked. Her voice was filled with so many conflicting emotions that it was hard to tell which would rise to the surface first. "Several hours ago, she was spotted conversing with some guards near the storage room – although they didn't realize she was distracting them until much later."

"Katarina is where all of you can't find her," Simon flatly stated. "Neither of us saw the need for her to face a hundred armed rebels with an axe to grind."

Cyna raised an eyebrow. "Which implies that you don't think you're in danger."

"Not really. I've got you, Bastian, and Marlene under Contract, so your strongest three fighters can't attack me. The rest of the Hurricane aren't up to par, no offense."

"You do realize that saying 'no offense' has never, not in the history of the world, managed to make people feel less offended? I'm sure you think it's hilarious to insult veteran warriors while sitting covered by a snug blanket, but–"

Bastian whirled around to face her. "You forged a Contract with Simon?" he asked, aghast. "Dearest Cyna, love of my life, the moon and the stars in my heart – what were you thinking?"

"That we were likely to die today, and perhaps an increase in strength would help prevent that." She crossed her arms defensively. "And you're one to talk. You signed a Contract first!"

"I was under significant duress at the time! Fell bargains are not to be taken so lightly. I hardly delight in the restrictions that have been placed on me."

"Don't act as if I strolled up to a Demon and cheerfully traded my freedom away. You wouldn't call a situation like this deserving of urgency?"

Simon sat in silence as their debate went back-and-forth. He had little reason to intervene when Bastian and Cyna were accomplishing one of his goals for him – running out the clock. The Hurricane had gradually shifted their attention away from him and over to the couples' argument, letting themselves get sidetracked by the sight of two of their top soldiers bickering in public.

Except for Victoria, who never took her eyes off him. "There is one question that has yet to be asked," she murmured, "and a lingering concern that has yet to be addressed."

She fixed him with a piercing, analytical gaze. "Simon...where is it?"

Normally he would've grinned, but too much guilt was eating away at him to feel even the slightest bit of amusement. "What are you referring to?" he said, stalling for a few seconds longer.

"You hid your intentions well," she continued. "The storage room is in utter disarray; a jumble of debris and shattered mana-containers. For a less analytical mind, it would be virtually impossible to sort the wheat from the chaff."

The Artificer put on a humorless smile. "Yet I couldn't help but notice that a certain something was missing. The largest container of them all, emblazoned with a triangular sigil, and housing only the purest, most refined mana...I couldn't find its pieces anywhere I looked."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

There was a pause as everyone absorbed the new information.

"Why didn't you tell me that immediately?!" Marlene half-yelled, rounding on Victoria.

"Uh–" The Lady Artificer's mask of arrogance slipped for a brief instant. "If Simon knew that I knew, he would have altered what he said to us. This way, I could more easily discern what he–"

"Fine." Marlene turned to address the Hurricane. "Spread out and search through our headquarters. Leave no stone unturned. If that container is hidden anywhere here, we'll–"

"Don't waste your time," Simon interrupted. "I have it with me."

Another pause. "I beg your pardon?" Bastian said, sounding lightheaded.

"Victoria was right." Can't have the Hurricane running off when I'll need them soon. "I destroyed all the other containers, but kept the biggest one for myself. It's in my dimensional storage space."

It had been his grand prize from the Harvester raid, after all. Was only fair that he got first dibs on it.

Without skipping a beat, Marlene whirled back around and stepped closer to him. She removed her hands from her weapons, assuming the most non-threatening posture she was capable of.

"I implore you, Simon," she said, mixing false warmth with genuine desperation. "We need that mana-container. It is the most vital component of the Last Resort – with it, we can still transform some of us, at least."

Bastian nodded in assent. "We're running out of time. At any moment, Duke Helmund could come rushing to investigate Lady Victoria's manse for signs of rebellion. He could already be rushing over as we speak."

"The Duke is still in his castle," Simon assured. "I've been tracking him with my Demon magic."

With Eavesdrop. Aside from foiling the Last Resort, that was why he'd needed to execute his plan today. It would only succeed if Helmund was staying in one location, and not likely to move for several hours.

"Then return the container to us, Simon." Bastian's expression was clouded by unearned optimism. "You still have a chance to make things right."

"My brother has been confined at Helmund's castle," a rebel shouted from amidst the crowd. "I'd gladly become a Fell Beast if it helps me save him!"

"My mother is imprisoned as well!" a second person called out. "I've already lost my father. I can't lose her too!"

"I don't have any family there – because that bastard of a Duke killed them!" screamed a third. "Let me take the vengeance I am owed!"

Their voices rose up one-by-one, fusing into a muddled cacophony of anguish. Simon couldn't hear what any individual person was saying by then, but the intensity of their emotions still slammed into him like a tidal wave. The subject matter was practically laser-targeted to strike directly at his most vulnerable psychological weak point.

Which was why that even though he knew it would be simpler to wait things out, he still found himself raising his hand to silence them. Anything was better than listening to over a hundred people crying out in unison for their lost loved ones.

"Let's make a deal," Simon breathed, his voice one of fragile tranquility. "Within the next ten minutes, I'll empty out the contents of my Inventory. In return, you all just...stay here and be quiet."

"Agreed," Marlene said, without an ounce of hesitation. "Write up your Contract, and I shall happily sign it."

He froze. "I'd rather not. A verbal agreement will be sufficient."

The Hurricane leader frowned. "You've never shied away from Contracts before."

"Just don't see the point. It's a bare-bones agreement that isn't worth getting into the weeds over."

"From everything I have heard and seen, Demons adore the process of forming Contracts. To them, it is like water quenching a dry throat. Yet you would spurn the opportunity to force some concessions out of me?"

"As I've said–"

Cyna snapped her fingers. "Just thought of something," she said. "When Katarina distracted the guards, that was hours ago, wasn't it? Which means you've had the sigil-branded container in your dimensional storage ever since then. Why?"

Once again, they waited for Simon to explain himself. Once again, he didn't, counting down the seconds as time crawled by.

Almost there.

"Most curious," Victoria mumbled to herself. "Why didn't the guards catch you infiltrating the storage room? Even if Lady Katarina diverted their attention, it would be difficult not to notice an entire person entering through a single doorway."

As if she'd reached an epiphany, Marlene sucked in a gasp of air. "Simon." She approached slowly, her steps cautious. "Why are you wearing a blanket?"

The transmigrator wasn't given time to come up with an excuse. With a burst of speed, Marlene dashed forward. He could have moved to avoid her, but the end result would've been the same. She pulled the blanket off him–

Revealing a torso missing its right arm. A bundle of cloth had been stuffed in its place, emulating the shape of a limb if something was covering it – and if he didn't squirm too much.

"As you can plainly see," Simon remarked, "I am physically incapable of forging a Contract right now. Perhaps something can be arranged at a later date, if you are so inclined."

Marlene grabbed him by the shoulder and stared at the space where his right arm should be. "I don't understand," she muttered. "Did you send it away? For what reason?"

"Forget the arm," Victoria interjected, sounding panicked all of a sudden. "Simon, you aren't wearing the Artifact I fashioned for you – the one that inhibits Helmund from sensing Fell mana!"

At that precise moment, the final step of his plan was put into action. For the first time since the crowd had gathered, Simon averted his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

--

Simon's Detached limb crawled up the side of a stone castle.

It has been making its way through the capital city for quite some time. Even with 78 Dexterity, a hand crawling on its fingers was only equal to an ordinary man at full sprint. There was also no time to be stealthy, so plenty of civilians pointed and shrieked as they spotted a black-scaled, silver-clawed arm skittering through the streets.

An acceptable tradeoff. The arm traveled faster than their gossip would, which was all that mattered.

Now, at long last, it had reached its destination. Claws bit into the side of the castle exterior as it rapidly ascended. Victoria's Artifact had been fastened around the wrist, preventing any mana-sensitive despots from being able to sense it.

Closer. Like a heat-seeking missile, it raced towards the location that Eavesdrop's tracking effect indicated. Closer. Closer.

There.

A sharp crack rang out as the Detached limb broke through a window. It swung itself into the castle, landing on plush carpeting that cost more to manufacture than an average civilian would accrue in a year.

Duke Helmund stared in shock, his mouth agape.

He had been sitting near a cozy fireplace – presumably contemplating how best to raid Victoria's manse. His guardsmen were watching over the city's Waystations, blocking off any potential escape routes, so he could afford to proceed at his leisure. The rebels were caught in a trap of their own making, and he intended to savor his day of triumph over them.

The notion that it might be dangerous to not attack immediately never crossed his mind. He was Duke Helmund. His victory was guaranteed, now and always. It had been many, many years since the threat of mortality was something he needed to fuss over.

Yet despite his inexorable, overwhelming power, even a demigod was subject to the element of surprise. Perhaps he could have saved himself, blown away the arm with a burst of mana, but at the most crucial moment of his centuries-long life...he hesitated.

Simon didn't. He deposited the sigil-emblazoned container from Inventory, pierced its casing with his claws, and injected Fell essence into it. The mana within, stolen from the land itself, warped and churned.

Helmund's scream was only just beginning when a massive explosion engulfed his castle.