Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

Three Days Later

Simon was taking a rare breather in his personal quarters when Voice-In-The-Sky contacted him.

Good tidings to you, Simon of Earth. The Voice sounded positively chipper. Are you faring well?

For once, the feeling of a foreign presence abruptly entering his mind didn't come as a surprise. He'd been anticipating this ever since the Ancient's disappearing act.

"It's great to hear from you, Voice." Simon leaned back in his chair. "So, funny thing – I found a god of Evil living in Helmund's basement. Called itself the Ancient One. It was mooching off of Valtia's mana, refusing to pay rent, so I had no choice but to evict it. I assume you've heard about all that?"

Everyone in our domain has. Before I officially congratulate you, however, I must reiterate my question: are you faring well? A transmigrator's victory is often followed by a time of upheaval and strife...and I know you're the type of person to throw themselves straight into the center of that.

"You're not wrong, but it hasn't been too bad for me. I've spent the last couple of days establishing a presence in the capital, spreading my name, getting the word out, etc."

A vicious grin stretched across Simon's face. "It's been hectic, yet oh so satisfying."

News of Helmund's death had swept through the capital city like a forest fire. By mid-afternoon on the first day, everyone and their grandmother was already aware that the Duke had been slain by rebel soldiers led by an elite Demon.

To absolutely no one's surprise, it sent the city into a frothing panic. While Helmund hadn't exactly been the most popular of rulers, his reign still represented stability. Oppressing, crushing stability, yet stability nonetheless. And it wasn't like the people expected a monstrously powerful Demon to be any better – less 'we've been saved', more 'under new management'.

Naturally, people were fleeing en masse, lines of frightened city-goers clogging up the Waystations. Marlene estimated that roughly 10% of the population would be gone by the end of the week.

Where they were going, only they knew. Simon felt skeptical that impoverished civilians had a legitimate fallback plan. Many of them would probably return once they learned that other cities weren't especially kind to refugees.

Some nobles were making a break for it as well, but the vast majority had chosen to stay. They couldn't resist the seductive siren call of opportunity. Duke Helmund's untimely demise had left the largest power vacuum in the history of the Severed Isles, and every member of the nobility – from major players to small-time aristocrats – wanted a piece of the pie.

They would be sorely disappointed when Simon took it all for himself. A reckoning was coming to the nobility – they just hadn't realized it yet.

Satisfying, you say? Voice-In-The-Sky was brimming with curiosity. How so?

"For starters, it's nice to not be hiding in the shadows anymore. I commandeered the mansion of a noble family that fled the city, so I don't have to rely on Victoria's goodwill for lodgings, either. If someone wants to find me, they know right where to look."

Simon had extended an open invitation to the movers and shakers of the capital city. In response, they'd already sent a squadron of high-Level assassins to try and deal with him.

It hadn't ended well for them.

"All in all, I'd say that consolidating my power base is proceeding smoothly." He was looking forward to when Subjugate Territory kicked in. Theoretically, once the nobles had been forced to recognize him as the top dog in town, he would be granted dominion and authority over the capital city. "Some of the rebels still aren't fans of me, but they'll come around." One way or another.

His grin softened to a warm smile. "Your turn. How's it been up there? You seem to be doing alright yourself."

Oh, certainly! It is always heartening to learn that your life is no longer in grave peril.

Simon paused. "Wait, what do you mean by that? You were in danger?"

Profound danger, yes. The Voice's upbeat tone didn't waver. I may have...stepped over some boundaries to contact you as frequently as I have. Especially when I intervened so that you would confront the Ancient One before it awakened. To borrow a common Earth vernacular – it 'ruffled some feathers', so to speak.

"...How ruffled are we talking?"

If you had failed to stop the Ancient from being reborn in Valtia, my consciousness would have ceased to be; unmade by my allies and enemies both. Your victory allowed me to avoid the proverbial executioner's block.

Simon flinched. "You never mentioned any of this," he said, concern mixing with frustration. "Why did you keep pushing boundaries when it was putting your neck on the line?"

You needed the help, did you not? Voice-In-The-Sky chuckled, bringing to mind the image of them waving their hand dismissively. What's done is done. As of now, I am in better standing than ever before. Your triumph has caused quite the stir – no gods, whether of Good or Evil, considered the possibility that you might prevail.

"Huh." Simon tapped his fingers on his thigh. "Feel like I should be mildly offended by that. I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, risking myself over and over to get stronger, but everyone up there had already written me off?"

Everyone except me. And they were wise to do so.

Its jovial tone slipped away, replaced by something more somber. You may recall that when you first transmigrated, I asked you to forget performing any grand heroics – to simply brighten Valtia's darkness in some small, flickering way. This was not said due to a lack of faith in your resolve. Only that–

"Valtia was a doomed world," Simon finished. He shivered as memories of a towering, grotesque abomination flashed through his mind. "After what I saw beneath Castle Helmund...suppose I cant blame your friends for assuming I would fail. Betting on me would've had worse odds than buying a lottery ticket."

Correct. Even if you had taken on the hero Alain's combat prowess, as was originally intended with your transmigration, averting Valtia's fate would have been an exceptionally tall order. Without that starting point? Virtually impossible.

"Yet here we are."

Indeed. Voice-In-The-Sky sounded like a proud parent. Simon wanted to appreciate the sentiment, but it just made him feel uncomfortable. Reminded him too much of what he'd lost. While I can offer you little in the way of rewards, at the very least, I shall answer the questions that must be occupying your mind. Now that the Ancient One of Valtia has fled, I needn't be so circumspect with what I tell you.

That was reward enough already. He understood why the Voice had to be vague when offering advice before, but things would've been so much simpler with a detailed guidebook explaining everything that was going on in Valtia.

"You said that the Ancient has fled," Simon started with. "That means it's actually gone? And not coming back? No eleventh-hour surprises?"

Think of each world under our purview as a battleground. When one side has fully conceded, they are prohibited from influencing that world henceforth. It is perhaps the single-strongest rule that binds us all.

Voice-In-The-Sky hesitated. I cannot say that the gods of Evil are incapable of returning to Valtia – only that it would be an exceedingly detrimental decision. They have never broken this accord in the past, and I don't expect them to, lest they wish to invite disaster upon themselves.

That was...less reassuring than Simon had hoped. So what if the chances of their return were unlikely? Improbable wasn't impossible.

He'd proved that himself when he salvaged a world marked for death.

Well, I guess it doesn't really change anything. Wasn't like I was planning to rest on my laurels.

If a pissed-off god shows up itching for Round 2, I'll be more than ready for it.

"Alright," Simon nodded. "Side note – why did the Ancient One leave its stolen mana behind when it teleported away? Not that I'm complaining, but from what it kept ranting about, empowering itself with Valtia's lifeblood was the entire reason it came here in the first place."

That is part of our terms of engagement. To flee prematurely is to admit defeat and cede control of a world. Spoils of war only go to the winners, after all.

Voice-In-The-Sky sounded a bit vindictive as it spoke. By forcing out the Ancient One, you have prevented the birth of a new god of Evil, denied them a world's worth of bounty, and upset their designs in ways you can't even begin to fathom. It is one of the most stunning victories my side has ever had the pleasure of experiencing – and it is all thanks to you, Simon.

He smirked. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Just so we don't get off-topic, though: what happens to Valtia's mana now that the Ancient is gone? The rain coming back seems like a good sign, but I'd like to double-check with you before celebrating."

That which was stolen has returned to the land, air, sea, and sky. The Severed Isles breathe with new life and a new beginning. Over time, the wasteland stretching outside its walled cities will be populated with greenery once more. Other nations that were in decline as well shall also see themselves revitalized. And without the Ancient's corrupting influence, the number of Fell Beasts will stagnate, dwindle, then finally vanish altogether.

The Voice sighed. Valtia will never be what it was before Duke Helmund seized power...but it can be something else. Not better – merely different. A phoenix rising from the embers of what the world used to be.

Simon closed his eyes. That was everything he'd wanted to hear, yet had scarcely let himself believe. A lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed it before replying.

"Thank you. I...that means a lot to know."

You are most welcome, Simon. It is the least of what you deserve.

The transmigrator hesitated, selecting his next words carefully. "Speaking of what I deserve...this is a longshot, but would it be possible to transport me back to Earth? Just for a day. I have some people I'd like to say proper goodbyes to."

Unfortunately, I cannot. The Voice sounded genuinely apologetic. Transmigration is permanent. Reversing it would require forfeiting energy that is better utilized to oppose our counterparts. I could potentially deliver a message to Earth, if that would suffice?

Simon shook his head. "No, that's fine. No need to spook the whole world again with another cosmic Voice appearing in the sky."

And he hadn't expected his request to be approved anyway. Voice-In-The-Sky had warned him from the start that transmigration was a one-way ticket.

No matter. He would find his way back on his own in due time. At Level 75 – or much higher – with capabilities that Earth wasn't equipped to handle. Strong enough to assassinate prominent public figures without anyone being able to stop him.

The wait would only make his revenge all the sweeter.

"One last question for you," Simon began. "When you expressed concern that I'd integrated Demonic abilities with the transmigrator system, that was because of the Ancient One, wasn't it? You couldn't tell me that it was the progenitor of Fell mana."

Voice-In-The-Sky gave a mental nod. While I was confident that our system would shield you from the mana-cravings that the Ancient inflicted on Fell Beasts and Demons...I still couldn't help but worry. Demonic abilities are inherently rooted in acts of cruelty. Consumption, domination, manipulation. Taking from others. Treating them as things, rather than people.

Even a stalwart soul can have their best intentions perverted by the allure of unchecked sovereignty. I didn't want you to tread down the wrong path.

Simon hesitated for a very long moment.

"What if I did?"

Pardon?

"How can you be sure that I didn't tread down the wrong path?" His leg repeatedly twitched up and down. "Do you know how I managed to defeat Duke Helmund?"

...I do.

"Then you're aware of how many people I've killed. Some who were deserving. Far more who weren't. See, the ones who I thought had it coming, I didn't think twice about killing them – didn't feel even a sliver of guilt."

A manic edge crept into his tone. "And the innocents caught in the crossfire? Yeah, I felt guilty, but what does it matter? They're still dead. It didn't stop me from blowing them up with a goddamn bomb."

For the sake of saving countless others. Intentions always matter, Simon.

"Tell that to the hundreds of corpses buried under Castle Helmund."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

...I suppose advising you to refer to Heroic Valor for counsel wouldn't be of much help.

No, it really wouldn't.

Heroic Valor hadn't spoken to him lately. Not even when prompted. Also didn't give him bonus EXP for dealing with the Ancient One.

It had still given bonus EXP earlier for killing Duke Helmund, so he wanted to chalk up the change in behavior to the Ancient's mana causing it to malfunction...but the Trait's absence still felt bizarre. As if it didn't see the point in trying with him anymore. It felt especially bizarre now that he'd learned what Heroic Valor truly was.

Could you give yourself the silent treatment?

Do you wish for me to condemn you? The Voice suddenly asked. To decry your actions and label you a sinner?

"Maybe," Simon admitted. Many of the Hurricane rebels would never forgive him, but that was a normal emotional response. If he was in their shoes, he wouldn't have forgiven himself either.

Being judged by Voice-In-The-Sky would be different. More impartial, yet at the same time, more personal. The Voice actually seemed to like him for some godforsaken reason, so if it still thought he was a lost cause–

Simon. A dense quiet settled between them, the anticipation filling his lungs with lead. Transmigrators are not expected to be pacifists. Conflicts invites violence – it would be naive to assume that you could overthrow a tyrannical monarch without a single drop of blood spilt.

"Right, but don't you guys want bonafide heroes as your champions? Virtuous, can-do-no-wrong types?"

Since when have heroes been free of fault? Since when has virtue meant attaining a level of perfection beyond mortal means? It is our hope that transmigrators will always strive towards what is good and just, but in spite of our namesake, we are not the arbiters of what 'good' and 'just' entail.

You were thrust into a nigh-unwinnable situation, Simon. Do I wish you could have achieved victory without the sacrifices that were made? Of course. Perhaps there was a better way. Perhaps not.

However, I can hardly denounce your choices when we often send transmigrators like lambs to slaughter, well-aware that many will perish – all to stave off the unrelenting encroachment of Evil. It would be holding you to a standard that even divinity fails to reach.

Voice-In-The-Sky spoke gently, like a comforting hand on his shoulder. Every action you took was in service of Valtia and its people. I could ask for no more than that.

Simon said nothing for a time. This, he imagined, was the closest thing to absolution he was ever going to receive. The Voice's words were almost captivating in how they eased the discord in his heart. It was the exact argument he needed to convince himself, gift-wrapped and handed on a silver platter.

If he'd tried his hardest, acted only with the best of intentions, then what was there to regret?

If.

He ruthlessly suppressed a tiny, unyielding voice in the back of his head. That although guilt was tearing him up inside...setting off the mana-bomb still hadn't been as difficult of a decision as it should've been. That he'd let his resentment for the common people's inaction boil over when choosing to sacrifice them. That his entire transmigration had been him lashing out at the world, again and again and again.

Thoughts like those couldn't be allowed to gain purchase in his mind.

"Thank you," Simon professed. He chuckled a moment later. "We're saying that a lot today, it seems."

There is much to be thankful for. Now that Valtia's future has been secured, we are both long overdue for a respite.

"I wish. No rest for the weary, I'm afraid."

While I understand that Duke Helmund's passing will cause a period of turmoil in the Severed Isles, don't overtax yourself, Simon. Urgency is not a strict requirement anymore. The nobility can be brought in line at your leisure.

Another chuckle – this time with less mirth. "I'm not worried about the nobles."

Voice-In-The-Sky hesitated. Then what?

"The Queen of Ashora, for one. People here seem to believe that Duke Helmund was the only thing keeping her from invading with an army of Demons. Even if she isn't interested, there are two other nations across the sea who might try taking advantage of the Severed Isles' weakness. Oh, and the Sealed Demon of Ruination's underground cage will run out of juice in eleven months or so. Kirkelas is Level 89 while sealed by hundreds of Warding Orbs – not looking forward to dealing with him at whatever his full strength is."

Simon exhaled. "But all of that is manageable. New enemies, I can handle. It's simple when your opponent has a name and a face. Everyone dies sooner or later; I just need to figure out how to speed up the process. I haven't been thinking as much about them."

His hands clenched into fists, and his lips curled with bitter hatred. "I've been thinking about how Duke Helmund and the Ancient One were right."

"I REIGNED FOR CENTURIES UNOPPOSED! I LIVED A FULLER LIFE THAN ANYONE EVER HAS, OR EVER WILL! KILLING ME WON'T TURN BACK TIME AND RESTORE THE WORLD I STOLE FROM YOU!"

"Transmigrators are always too late. Your kind arrives in response to crisis. Even if you manage to prevail, your victory stands atop a pile of ashes."

"What did I accomplish here in Valtia? What really?" Simon didn't wait for the Voice to answer before continuing. "Did I rescue a world, or am I just picking up the broken pieces of a vase that Helmund and the Ancient knocked onto the floor?"

I...don't quite understand. Valtia is diminished, yes, but many millions still reside there – all of whom would have perished if the Ancient One had been allowed to awaken. It is undeniable that those people still draw breath as a result of your efforts.

"That's true. Sounds impressive when you put it like that. Millions of lives saved. Nice bullet point to put on the transmigrator resume."

Simon grimaced. "Thing is, when stacked up against the number of people who died from Fell Beasts ravaging their homes, or starving on the streets because of Duke Helmund's tyranny...I don't think I come out ahead. If I saved millions, then they killed millions more. Valtia is a shadow of what it could have been."

His fingers twitched, as if searching for a neck to squeeze. "I was too late. Centuries too late."

Not even we can turn back the hands of time, Simon. Are you to blame for events that took place hundreds of years before you were born?

"No. But I would be to blame if I fell into the same trap that everyone else will."

Simon looked up at the ceiling. "You said that Valtia's future has been secured. I disagree. All we've secured is a short-term improvement to the weather. Even this minor victory can be taken from us if, say, the Demon Queen decides to follow in Helmund's footsteps and implement her own version of the Mana Harvesters."

And what proof is there that she intends to do so? Why invent scenarios to plague your thoughts with? You have no reason to fret before–

"THERE! RIGHT THERE!" Simon jumped to his feet, a hot burst of rage twisting his face into a snarl. "THAT IS THE REAL PROBLEM! THAT SENTIMENT, THAT...COMPLACENCY!"

Voice-In-The-Sky fell quiet, stunned by his outburst.

"Duke Helmund didn't become a demigod overnight." Simon forcefully lowered his voice, adjusting his tone to a poor imitation of tranquility. "It took time for him to get strong enough to the point where he was untouchable. Before that, the people of Valtia had a chance to stop him – but from what I've heard, they barely even tried."

There was a reason that the Hurricane was so short-staffed despite Helmund being almost universally despised. It took a rare breed of maniac to swim against the tides of history. And even with all their blood, sweat, and tears, they would've come up short without a transmigrator's timely intervention.

Shortly after they'd met, Katarina asked Simon why he was willing to push himself so far. His answer had been succinct: "If I don't do it, who will?"

It rang more true with each passing day.

"I refuse to just sit around and respond to whatever crisis arises next. We need to be proactive. The true enemy isn't Kirkelas or the Demon Queen – the true enemy is apathy, and I am going to decapitate its head and stick it on a pike."

Simon's gaze burned with intent. "And to do that, I need power."

He'd felt it before when using Fell Harvest on the Ancient One. Boundless mana coursing through him. A limitless ocean of energy, deeper than any abyss. Power unending–

Only for it to slip right through his fingertips. Gone, as if it were no more than a fading memory; a dream that would forever remain out of reach.

Until he was met with a litany of system notifications later that afternoon.

Alert: Due to channeling extreme quantities of the Ancient One's mana, an imprint of its essence has been left upon your soul!

System Integration has activated!

The Ancient's imprint has been assimilated and converted!

New Sub-Class Unlocked: Ancient-Attuned!
-You can now detect the presence of Fell mana from great distances!

Skill Gained: Fell Evolution!
-Evolve your abilities and unlock new Class Advancements by absorbing Fell mana!

"Level 75 is just the beginning. This, I promise you." Simon smiled once more. It showed a few too many teeth. "I'll become powerful enough to protect everyone in Valtia, come what may. Powerful enough that no one in this world can stand against me."

Powerful enough to avoid...moral concessions. If he'd been stronger back then, he could've simply waltzed up to Helmund and crushed the man's skull. Instead, he'd been forced to resort to the mana-bomb – and all the collateral damage that entailed.

When Simon was finished, he would never have to make a decision like that again.

Never. Again.

I...I see. Voice-In-The-Sky's tone was unreadable. Simon, I would recommend that you–

A knocking on the door interrupted whatever the Voice was about to say. Katarina barged in right after, slumping on the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Our guests are here," she said, injecting a hiss of pure loathing into the word. "Apparently, they've been anticipating this very moment."

Simon arched an eyebrow. "Have they, now?"

She snorted. "Oh yes! They're practically tittering over getting to curry favor with the esteemed 'Rainbringer'."

Kat said the title like she couldn't take it seriously, which, fair. Sounded a bit too grandiose for Simon's taste, but it was also doing wonders for his reputation, so he hadn't done anything to prevent it from spreading.

"It seems they believe that a Demon will share their...sensibilities." Simon leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "Let's disabuse them of that notion, shall we?"

Katarina flashed a smile that was downright murderous. Her eyes shimmered with a faint glow of mana as she silently exited the room, stalking like a lioness who'd spotted a sleeping rabbit.

What's this about? Voice-In-The-Sky asked, once they were alone.

"We invited the heads of the city's most prominent slaver organizations to a meeting." Flies to honey. "Much easier than hunting them down individually."

Simon stood up, dusting his hands on his pants. "Sorry to cut this short, but there's an infestation that needs exterminating."

Granted, while this was a necessary step towards seizing control of the capital city, he could still admit that it was more pleasure than business. A fun little reward for all his hard work.

He paused when he was halfway out the door, freezing mid-step. "One last thing to thank you for," he whispered. "You could've picked anyone from Earth to transmigrate...but out of everyone on the planet, you chose me."

Simon inclined his head. "Thank you. Sincerely. You've put me exactly where I need to be."

A world with no shortage of wrongs to be righted. A world that needed blood-soaked claws more than the soft touch of diplomacy. A world where he could slay monsters to his heart's content.

A world where he could make a real difference.

"It was good hearing from you, Voice, but duty calls." He waved at the ceiling. "Valtia's not gonna save itself."

Well, before you depart, perhaps we should discuss how–

Simon severed their connection, the Voice's presence disappearing from his mind. Its concern for him was usually appreciated – it proved that they cared – but at the moment, there was no reason to entertain those sort of doubts.

Not when his path forward was clear as day.

First, the capital city. Then, the Severed Isles. After that...Ashora had plenty of Fell mana to help feed his new Skill. Simon knew exactly what he needed to do to achieve his vision for the future.

And not a single human, creature, or god was going to stop him.