Isekai Terry: Tropes of Doom (An Isekai Adventure Comedy)

Terry was so surprised to see the innkeeper standing over him with an enormous knife that he froze. It wasn't until the other man brought the knife down that Terry managed to react. He glared at the man.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I…That is…" the innkeeper mumbled.

The heavyset man lifted the knife and turned it to examine the point. He seemed baffled, before he lifted it high and brought it down again with an inarticulate yell. The tip of the knife hit Terry's chest and stopped cold.

"Stop that. It's aggravating," said Terry, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

He stood and stretched before rubbing at the two small holes in his shirt. Thank god I wasn't wearing my hat, or he might have stabbed that instead. Terry walked around the innkeeper, went over to the door, and stepped into the hallway. He saw Kelima desperately trying to fend off a plump woman wielding a cast-iron frying pan. He assumed that she was the innkeeper's wife. He felt a series of impacts on his back and glanced over his shoulder. The innkeeper was trying to stab him over and over again.

"Seriously, man. Cut that shit out. The only thing you're doing is ruining my clothes."

"I don't understand," wailed the innkeeper. "This always works."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," said Terry before calling down the hall. "You're doing great, Kelima. Keep it up!"

"Are you kidding me!" she yelled at him, after dodging the frying pan.

"Well, it was all in my imagination, right? So, this is probably nothing but a strange dream. I bet I'm still in my comfy bed."

"You are not funny!"

"I'm hilarious," answered Terry, leaning against the wall and watching the fight.

The innkeeper trudged into the hall and gave Terry's chest a final, desultory stab.

"I had to check," said the innkeeper.

"Yeah, I get it," said Terry. "So, what am I dealing with here? Demons? Elder things?"

"You seem unusually calm about all of this," complained the innkeeper.

"I expected it."

"Really?"

"I mean, come on. This quaint little inn, way out in the middle of nowhere, with no roads connecting you to civilization. It just screamed trap."

The innkeeper's eyes went wide.

"That's what I said. But does anybody listen to me? No. I'm just the guy in the field. What the hell do I know? We had orders from below."

Terry offered a sympathetic nod and said, "Bureaucracy. I guess it's a bitch everywhere."

"Terry!" shouted Kelima. "Stop chatting with the evil thing and help me!"

"He seems fine to me," said Terry.

"Hey, I don't suppose you'd let us kill the girl, would you?" asked the innkeeper, eyes bright with hope.

"Quotas?" asked Terry.

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"Yeah."

"I won't lie. I'm tempted to let you."

"What?!" shrieked Kelima.

"I mean, she's clearly a giant pain in my ass! My life would be infinitely easier without her. But, man, her mom scares me. If I let her die—" Terry trailed off with a shudder.

The innkeeper nodded in understanding.

"If you think the mothers here are scary, you should see what it's like back home."

"So, it is demons?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot you asked about that earlier. Yup, we're demons."

"Everyone in town?"

"No, those are mostly just projections. They look real enough, but they aren't great at interactions."

"I was wondering," said Terry. "They kept doing that creepy staring thing."

"I know, right?" said the innkeeper. "I keep trying to fix that, but no matter what I do, they just stare and stare. It's so frustrating."

"Terry!" shouted Kelima, sounding a little more desperate.

"Fine," he snapped. "Mrs. Demon Innkeeper, please stop trying to kill Kelima. I can't let you do it, no matter how much she deserves it."

The plump demon took a few quick steps back and then leaned against the wall.

"I'm too old to chase around these young, quick ones anyway," she gasped.

Terry saw Kelima tense to launch an attack.

"Don't do that, Kelima. They stopped."

"She tried to kill me," objected Kelima.

"If you don't do what I say, I'm going to kill you. And I promise you that it won't be all in your imagination."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"The heat death of the universe will happen first."

"Heat death?" asked Kelima.

"It means no. I'm never, ever going to let that go. Not if we both live to be ten thousand years old. Not if you save my life five thousand times by being more clever than me. I will bring this up at your deathbed."

"Why not your deathbed?" grumbled Kelima.

"You really think you're going to outlive me?"

"I might."

"You should hang onto that youthful hope," said Terry before he turned to the innkeeper. "So, listen. I'm pretty sure I smelled some kind of apple pastry when we got here. Were those real food or just an illusion?"

"Oh, those are real," said the demon, patting his large stomach.

"They're not made with blood or anything like that, are they?"

"Nah. I hear some demons go in for that kind of thing, but it's not like blood tastes good," said the innkeeper.

"Fantastic," said Terry, ignoring the implication that the demon had tried blood. "I don't suppose I could get a couple of those pastries, could I? They smelled amazing."

"Well, aren't you a sweet boy?" said the plump demon, giving him a bright smile. "You come with me, and I'll get you fixed right up."

"What is happening here? We're all friends now?" asked Kelima. "This isn't how this works. We're supposed to banish them."

"If you ruin getting pastries for me, there will be punishment," said Terry with a hard glare for the noble girl.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's go get you some pastries," said Kelima before muttering under her breath. "Evil pastries."

"Zip it!" shouted Terry.

A few minutes later, the four of them were seated around a table with a pile of pastries and tea.

"So, how long have the two of you been doing this?" mumbled Terry around a mouthful of apple turnover.

"Oh, not that long," said the innkeeper.

"Can't be more than a century or two," added Mrs. Demon Innkeeper.

Terry looked around and said, "You can't be seeing very many people out here."

"We used to. There was a road to the village until about seventy-five years ago," said the innkeeper. "Those were the days. We mostly just ran the inn as an inn. We had our pick of people, so we'd just ended the worst of the lot."

"Isn't that like killing your own?" asked Kelima. "I mean, don't demons want evil people in the world?"

"That's above our pay grade," said the plump demon. "They just tell us to kill this many or that many people. As long as we get the right numbers, we're fine. Besides, the evil ones are the ones who always try to skip out without paying. I hate people who don't pay their bills."

Terry nodded as he bit into another turnover and moaned in pleasure.

"So good," he said after washing down the bite with a sip of tea.

"How can you… How can you just eat that?" asked Kelima.

"Like this."

Terry picked up the untouched pastry on her plate and took a bite.

"Aren't you worried about poison?"

The plump demon gave the girl a sharp look that made the noble squirm in her seat.

Terry thought it over, shrugged, and answered, "I feel fine."

"I think you missed my point," complained Kelima.

"No. I understood. I just didn't care," said Terry before turning to the demons. "Do you mind if we catch a few more hours of sleep before we head out?"

The plump demon shot Kelima a narrow-eyed look before she answered, "That should be fine."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And, this can't be said often enough, your turnovers taste even better than they smell."

"You're such a sweet boy. Isn't he a sweet boy?" asked the plump demon.

The innkeeper demon nodded agreeably.

"You can come back anytime you want," continued Mrs. Demon Innkeeper. "And I suppose I won't do anything to her if she comes along."

"I appreciate that," said Terry. "Especially since I know how much restraint it requires not to murder Kelima."

"Hey!"