What a Bountiful Harvest, Demon Lord!

Chapter 2: How to Fix Nitrogen (1)

"From this moment on... we will halt the expedition and begin farming!"

A clear roar.

An equally distinct declaration.

Kim Jangcheol's shout shook the Hall of Destruction. It knocked on the eardrums of every single member of the Demon Lord’s forces, poked at their cochleae, and awakened them—into a shockwave of confusion, asking, What kind of nonsense is this?

"…What was that, just now?"

"Did I hear that right…?"

"Seriously…?"

Is this real?

Really?

A joke?

For real?

No.

The Demon Lord, Credos, was a tyrant of historic proportions, a being of demonic charisma who wouldn't utter a joke—not even as an empty phrase.

"This is… ridiculous!"

Finally grasping the meaning of Kim Jangcheol’s words, the Four Great Demon Generals unintentionally let out a simultaneous roar. Because they knew—Credos, the Demon Lord, was not someone who would make such declarations in jest. That was precisely why they felt even more bewildered. They felt anger. And they let it explode.

"What do you mean by that!"

"The great invasion we’ve prepared for so long!"

"Why!"

"Graaaaaagh!"

The Prince Who Drinks Blood, Asurat, flushed red as blood vessels flared across his entire body. From the Cold Monarch, Sirgi’s body, four swords sprang forth. The Archduke of Fog, Hartok, exhaled black killing intent through his mist. The Black Boulder Tyrant, Baal, swelled his already muscular body to three times its original size in an instant.

Normally, under any other circumstances, the Four Great Demon Generals would have never dared to act this way before the Demon Lord Credos. But this was no ordinary moment. The shock, fury, and killing intent they felt in that instant were too overwhelming to suppress just because they were in front of the Demon Lord.

…Fwoooosh!

An extreme murderous aura burst forth from the Four Great Demon Generals, who were sincerely furious. All that vicious energy was blatantly directed toward Kim Jangcheol standing on the balcony.

Thanks to that (if one could call it luck)—

‘Wh… Huff?’

Kim Jangcheol felt like his breath had stopped. He was terrified. The sight of the Four Great Demon Generals, sincerely exuding bloodthirst, was so horrifying that it could reduce any average horror film to child’s play.

The moment he met their eyes, his breath caught in his throat. His eyebrows twitched without control. His face twisted from fear, his mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide with terror.

Thanks to that (if one could call it luck)—

‘Wh… Huff?’

The Four Great Demon Generals felt like their breath had stopped. It was chilling. In an instant, their eyebrows trembled, their brows furrowed, and their fangs bared—under the gaze of the Demon Lord Credos, who looked down on them with overwhelming presence and wide-open eyes.

The moment they met his gaze, their breath caught in their throats. Cold sweat began to pour out in bursts. Even the fury and killing intent that had been flaring moments before cooled instantly in one go. They suddenly realized—they had crossed the line, having briefly lost control in the heat of the moment. It was a chilling realization.

And once again, thanks to that (if one could call it luck)—

"This is my declaration. Disperse, all of you!"

Kim Jangcheol seized the moment while the Four Great Demon Generals faltered and quickly wrapped up his speech. He swiftly turned his body and disappeared inside the balcony.

"……"

The Four Great Demon Generals were left behind.

And in their wake, a heavy silence fell across the Hall of Destruction, as the stunned Demon Lord’s forces stood still, utterly disheartened.

♣

"That bastard Credos! He’s scared!"

Boom!

A stone table shattered into powder with a single blow. Veins bulging with blood-red energy pulsed across the fist that had slammed it. Asurat, one of the Four Great Demon Generals, shouted to those gathered in the meeting room.

"No, he’s grown weak—that bastard. That’s why he got scared and stopped the expedition!"

"……"

As the other generals quietly listened, Asurat’s voice continued, fierce enough to spray blood with every word.

"Which means now’s not the time for us to just sit around like this!"

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Sirgi, another of the Four Great Demon Generals, who had been silently listening, asked back.

A glint of mad killing intent flickered in Asurat’s eyes.

"We need to join forces. And we cut off that bastard’s head. Credos became the Demon Lord the same way, didn’t he? By slaying the former Demon Lord!"

"……"

"Isn’t it obvious? The strongest becomes Demon Lord. That’s a rule carved in blood across the Wasteland since ancient times!"

"……"

The remaining Demon Generals silently nodded. Indeed, Asurat’s words rang true. And in truth, even for them, it was hard to accept what Credos had declared today.

To halt the invasion of the human realm?

To sit around peacefully and farm?

What kind of madness was that?

Asurat’s incitement continued.

"Think about how much blood, sweat, and effort we poured into preparing and anticipating this invasion. And yet, that bastard Credos overturned it all with a single sentence. That’s not rational. Why did he do it? The more I think about it, the clearer the answer becomes."

"You're saying Credos, now that the invasion is at hand, has grown fearful of war with the humans?"

"Exactly."

The Archduke of Fog, Hartok, asked.

Asurat’s eyes gleamed fiercely as he answered.

Watching them all silently, the Black Boulder Tyrant, Baal, had a thought.

‘…Ah, I’m hungry.’

Meanwhile, Asurat’s argument continued.

“Whatever the reason, that bastard has grown weak. He’s lost confidence in his own abilities. That’s why he’s showing such disgraceful behavior now.”

“But… what if he hasn’t actually gotten weaker?”

Hartok responded with a question.

Asurat hesitated.

“What?”

“Isn’t that the truth? There are too many uncertainties to launch a coup based solely on a flimsy guess. What if, contrary to your prediction, Credos isn’t weaker? If that’s the case, even if we all attack at once, at least two of us will die or suffer fatal injuries.”

“He’s right. That’s how I see it too. But hey, Asurat? If you’re willing to go first and be the meat shield, I might consider cooperating—just once.”

Sirgi chimed in, backing Hartok.

Asurat burst out in anger.

“You… wretched cowards! Then! If evidence surfaces that the Demon Lord has indeed grown weak?”

“……”

“Will you follow my lead then?”

“……”

The Four Great Demon Generals fell silent.

They looked into one another’s eyes.

If Asurat is right…

If Credos really has weakened…

In that case…

“…Then we’ll kill him.”

A cruel smile of the same hue crept across each of their lips.

♣

“…That is what the Four Great Demon Generals are now openly plotting.”

“……”

“In addition, due to the sudden and unscheduled halt of the invasion, morale among the army has plummeted, and incidents of internal violence and illegal cannibalism have spiked.”

“……”

“All this resentment and disappointment are spreading like a plague within the army, and everyone is blaming you, my lord.”

“……”

“At this rate, if the Four Great Demon Generals raise a rebellion, it is highly likely that the majority of the army will side with them, not with you.”

“……”

Zephyros, the adjutant, continued his report in a calm tone.

Every part of it was nothing short of brutal. With each line, Kim Jangcheol felt his shoulders tremble ever so slightly, unnoticed by anyone else.

But the parade of grim and hopeless reports didn’t end there.

“And here… is the video sent by Grand General Ozma, who was stationed at the border to monitor the Paladin’s Grave.”

Clack.

Zephyros, kneeling on one knee, extended a crystal orb.

Soon, the orb lit up.

A video projection began to emerge.

— Kughack!

Thwack!

The moment the footage started, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the orb as if it might shatter from the sound. Then came a sickening, heavy impact—something solid brutally striking its target.

“……!”

Kim Jangcheol’s eyes widened as he took in the footage from the crystal orb, filling his vision completely.

And what he saw was…

‘Aged Kimchi?’

The protagonist he had raised over the course of nineteen iterations—Aged Kimchi, with a flawless, muscular physique—was swinging a magical girl’s “Heart Sparkle Wand.” Swinging it down. Over and over. Right at the head of Grand General Ozma, who was transmitting the footage.

- P-please… spare me! Guh! Gahk…!

Thwack! Crunch! Squelch!

"……."

With every strike of the heart-shaped wand, the footage distorted further. Blood splattered in every direction. Aged Kimchi’s face and clothes were soaked in it. Yet, Aged Kimchi’s expression remained utterly blank, devoid of emotion. There was not a trace of righteousness in destroying the demons. No sense of duty to punish evil.

It was simply the violence of a slaughter machine, trained to its limit through mechanical repetition.

- W-wait! Wh-what are you… going to do…! GYAAAAGH! My eyes! My eyes…! Don’t! Don’t do—GYAAAHGHK!

"……."

A black silence followed as Grand General Ozma’s eyeballs were ripped out. Just before the footage cut off, Kim Jangcheol felt as if he locked eyes with Aged Kimchi through the crystal.

And then he realized.

‘That bastard… He’s still wearing the costume I put on him in the 19th round.’

The “Stale Bunny Princess Magical Girl” costume.

How proud he had been to equip that on him back then.

But now?

It made everything more terrifying.

Because he understood exactly what it meant that the costume was still being worn.

‘That bastard… He still has the level 9990 I raised him to in the 19th round. The skill set. The gear. Everything… intact.’

…A chill ran down his spine.

There was no way he could win.

He must never encounter that guy.

Survival depended on staying hidden here, no matter what.

“…Haa.”

For a moment, his vision went dark.

Of all possibilities, why did he end up in the body of a Demon Lord like this instead of the godlike character he had so carefully raised? And now, he had to live in constant fear of being beaten to death by that very character?

Could there be a more unfair twist of fate? A more absolute dead end? The more he thought about it, the more hopeless it felt.

Invade the human realm? Death by Aged Kimchi.

Reject the invasion? Death by the Four Great Demon Generals.

Try to run away alone?

Still death, at the hands of the Four Great Demon Generals chasing him down.

They’d want to hold up his severed head as proof of their rightful claim to the Demon Lord’s throne.

‘…….’

No matter how he looked at it, there was only one way forward: a direct approach. He had to farm. That was the only way to feed everyone. If he could manage that, it would calm the dissatisfaction of the masses. So…

“I need to get some air.”

Kim Jangcheol rose from the throne, concealing his pale expression. He stepped out of the Demon Lord’s castle and surveyed the land nearby.

“……”

A dark red, blood-colored sky.

The wasteland stretching beneath it.

A landscape utterly removed from any notion of fertility.

Suddenly, the setting of Paladin of Blood resurfaced in his memory.

‘Right. There was a reason this place was called the Wasteland.’

A land where nothing could grow.

A land of punishment, forsaken in the most literal sense.

That was why the demons were said to always be starving. A species cursed with endless hunger, surviving by devouring one another as if burdened by original sin.

It was then—

“My lord. Surely… you don’t truly mean it?”

Zephyros’s question pierced through his train of thought. Kim Jangcheol turned to look at him. Zephyros had followed quietly behind, as always, offering his steady support. His characteristically cold eyes now held a sliver of doubt.

“About that declaration to start farming. Do you seriously intend to go through with it?”

“……”

“I simply cannot comprehend it.”

“……”

Of course he couldn’t.

This was a land where no crops could grow. That’s all anyone knew. To declare that he’d begin farming here—no wonder it sounded unbelievable. It must have sounded like the delusion of a madman.

Zephyros continued.

“Even the former Demon Lords—including yourself—have tried farming here, have they not?”

“…Is that so.”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

As expected.

So that’s how it was.

“In any case, you must have come to understand it yourself, after experiencing failure in farming firsthand. The soil is utterly barren… The extreme temperature shifts throughout a single day… The cruel truth that nothing can take root in this land.”

“Well, yes, that’s true.”

Kim Jangcheol nodded.

Zephyros was right.

Even with just a glance, it was clear—this place was the very definition of a wasteland. Trying to grow something here felt more futile than planting beans in a desert.

But even so, he couldn’t give up. Because if he gave up, all that would await him was death.

So—

“I’m doing it no matter what. And I can do it.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It might have been impossible for the former Demon Lords… and for the previous me—Cre…dos—but for the current me, it may not be entirely impossible.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Zephyros looked at him, puzzled.

Toward him, Kim Jangcheol gave his first faint smile of the day.

‘With the knowledge I’ve accumulated in the lab, and with the skills of Demon Lord Credos that can now be applied through that knowledge… even this barren, hopeless land devoid of all nutrients should be able to have at least a minimal amount of nitrogen fixed into the soil.’

And that would be enough—enough to mark the first step toward successful farming.

…Kwaak!

Nitrogen—essential for plant growth.

And the method to fix that nitrogen into the soil.

To realize that monumental feat in reality, he would utilize a combat skill belonging to the Demon Lord.

‘That is… Credos’s main skill, Bloody Lightning.’

A thread of certainty ran through Kim Jangcheol’s tightly clenched fist.