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

Kelima had been in a state of complete bewilderment since the night before. First, she'd had to face up to the fact that, somehow, Terry had recognized that this village was evil on sight. Sure, the man was unreasonably powerful, but that was true of every rank 2 adventurer. It just came with the territory. What he hadn't shown was any kind of precognitive skill or any particular ability to sense evil. But this time, for some reason, he'd just known. Finding that out when the female demon came crashing into her room had been a really terrible way to discover that she should have listened to the man.

Of course, she was at the inn with that same unreasonably powerful adventurer, so she should have only needed to fend the demon off long enough for Terry to intervene. But he hadn't done it! All he'd done was shout some half-ass encouragement before chatting, fucking chatting, with the other demon like none of this was worth getting worked up about. Even when he had finally deigned to intervene, he'd acted like she was the unreasonable one for wanting to, you know, kill the evil creatures from the pits of hell. And it only got worse after that.

He took food from them like doing that wasn't utterly insane, and then just had a little conversation with them. He acted like it was all a perfectly normal thing to do. Even more unnerving was that the demons seemed to think that Terry, possibly the least socially skilled person who still qualified as marginally sane that she had ever met, was charming. She believed that the female demon would have adopted him on the spot if she could. It was wrong. All of it was just so utterly wrong. Yet, Terry seemed oddly relaxed by the entire turn of events. While she'd been unable to sleep at all, he'd apparently taken a refreshing nap.

Now, they were all sitting around a table loaded down with a hearty breakfast. It seemed they were all still pretending to be normal. That was when Terry started a line of conversation that made Kelima want to choke on her toast. Toast that she'd been forcing herself to eat after Terry glared at her for a full fifteen seconds.

"So," said Terry, "just how tied to this spot in the world are you?"

The demons traded perplexed looks before the innkeeper answered.

"Not at all, as far as I know."

"Really?" asked Terry. "That is interesting."

"Why?" asked the innkeeper's wife.

"Well, I was just thinking that the two of you are kind of wasted out here in the middle of nowhere. Do you think anyone would notice or care if you just left?"

When it had looked like they just needed to get through the next hour and then leave, Kelima was willing to play along. This conversation was something else entirely. She didn't know exactly where Terry was going with this, but she did not like the direction she thought it was headed. She needed to do something to put a stop to it. Right now.

"Terry," she said through clenched teeth. "What are you doing?"

"I might not know the right term for this world. Where I come from, though, it's called talking. I'm led to believe it's a very traditional method of communication."

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"I know what talking is," she snapped. "I meant, what are you—"

She trailed off as Terry, the innkeeper, and the innkeeper's wife all just stared at her. There was something cold and alien in their eyes, even Terry's, that made her words dry up in her throat. Those looks told her in no uncertain terms that her participation in the conversation was neither needed nor welcome. She felt like a child being chastised by her parents for speaking out of turn, only there was an undercurrent of violence to this rebuke. Kelima slowly lifted the toast she'd all but forgotten she was holding and took a bite. She looked down at the table and chewed until she felt their gazes move off of her. Then, and only then, did she allow herself to shudder.

"So, as I was asking, do you think anyone would notice if you two just left?"

Kelima glanced up to see the demons trade an opaque glance.

"Probably not," said the innkeeper. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was just thinking that the town where I live could use a better inn. One with very good apple turnovers."

"I'm not sure we could do that," said the innkeeper's wife in a hesitant voice. "We don't really know anything about the human world anymore."

"I doubt things are that different," said Terry. "Here's everything you need to know. People are stupid, greedy, and incapable of minding their own business. But they simultaneously believe that they're brilliant and that everyone else should be honest and mind their own business. You'll find the occasional exception, but if you take that as a baseline for human behavior, you'll rarely be surprised."

"Oh," said the innkeeper. "I guess it hasn't changed that much."

"Do we have enough money to afford it?" asked the innkeeper's wife.

"Don't worry about that," said Terry, waving off the question like it didn't matter. "It's not that hard to make a bunch of money here. I'll help you get started. Here's the thing, though. You can't kill people anymore."

"Ever?" asked the innkeeper.

Kelima stared at Terry, waiting for the only possible answer he could give to that question.

"Well, I guess I don't care if you kill really awful people. But, and I can't emphasize this enough, they need to be terrible. Also, you have to dispose of the bodies in a way that they won't be found. If bodies start piling up, people might panic."

"Terry," she hissed.

Terry held up a finger and looked at her.

"Before you continue that thought, I want you to ask yourself a question. If someone is so fucking terrible that even demons think they need to die, is that someone you want left alive in the world?"

"No, but—"

"That answer was complete at no."

Kelima was certain that this was a horrible idea. Nothing good could come from it. And if the Church ever found out, who knew what they would do?

"What if the church finds out about us?" asked the innkeeper.

Kelima was both relieved that the innkeeper was thinking ahead and disturbed that she had the same thought as the demon. Terry leaned back as though he was actually considering it. Kelima felt like she knew him well enough by now to know that he wasn't thinking about it at all. He was just trying to organize his profanity.

"I couldn't give two flying fucks and a burning pile monkey shit what the Church likes or wants. Also, they don't have a presence where I live. Something I intend to encourage."

Kelima buried her face in her hands. She was absolutely convinced that he meant that.

"Anyway," continued Terry, "you two think it over. We'll stop back after I get the special rocks. If you're interested, you can come back with us."

"You're assuming that we're actually going to succeed," said Kelima.

"Eh," said Terry, waggling a hand. "I'm assuming that I'm going to come back. This isn't nearly climactic enough for me to die. Things don't look so good for you, though. I figure that there's a fifty-fifty chance you'll get killed."

"What?" demanded Kelima.

"Well, when the hero picks up a stray, there's always a good chance that they'll die during the quest for the melodrama value."

Kelima threw her plate of food at him while yelling, "I'm not a stray!"