Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Varlog, Nickelson, and the rest of the group finally reunited with Nickelson's knights and the remaining adventurers. They had all agreed to keep Van's involvement a secret—at least until he returned, something Varlog assured Nickelson would happen soon.

To strengthen Nickelson's standing, Varlog suggested that he take credit for the sword mark that stretched across the valley, ensuring that his men would place even greater trust in him. However, the knights were more preoccupied with the bone dragon and the other demons standing beside it.

"At ease, everyone," Nickelson instructed, waving his arm dismissively. "These demons have come in peace. They..." He hesitated briefly, glancing at Varlog, who stood calmly by his side with a warm smile. "...Foolishly displayed their aura to alert us of their arrival, believing it to be an act of trust." Varlog, Yilla, and Liliac all nodded in agreement.

It didn't take long for the knights and adventurers to accept this explanation as truth.

"Greatknight Nickelson... He truly is our savior!"

"He's on another level...! Scolding the Second-in-Command of the Demonic Army and taming that dragon...!!"

The knights and adventurers whispered among themselves, praising Nickelson as they looked at him in awe.

"And he also kept Lady Cerille safe!"

"There's really nothing he can't do..!"

Varlog overheard their chatter, thinking, 'He must have spent quite a while building his reputation...' He mused to himself, mildly impressed. Meanwhile, Cerille glanced aside, unable to look at her father with the same admiration she once had.

'And... oh my. I sense some bloodthirsty fellows who don't buy this act at all...' Varlog thought, raising an eyebrow as he looked directly at Magus's former party, who stood at the forefront of the knights.

"Bull-fucking-shit," Marcy spat out, standing at the head of the group. "First, we're supposed to believe that old man Nickelson caused that tremor earlier when he and I are practically on par in strength... And now he says the demons are here to help us? There's no way they're here for peace."

Lalyn, standing beside her, scrutinized Varlog with a cold gaze. "I can't make an educated guess about our Greatknight, but demons under a pact... We all know how much they value such agreements. There must be more to this..."

"What... What could this mean...?" Amoria murmured, tightening her grip on her staff. "You don't think this is related to Van in some way, do you?"

"DON'T BE STUPID! Why would it be that!?" Marcy erupted, snapping her head toward Amoria.

"... Possible," Lalyn muttered.

"LALYN!? Even you..!" Marcy turned to her, incredulous.

"Think about it, Marcy. That meatshield showed up around two days ago, just in time to kill Arutol... And now this?" Lalyn reasoned, her words silencing Marcy. "... I also dislike the idea of blaming him. Maybe he isn't at fault. But we can't ignore the possibility that all of this is somehow connected to him."

"It is—"

"—Not related." Mika and Rika interjected in unison, capturing everyone's attention.

"Oh? You know that for a fact?" Lalyn asked, raising an eyebrow at the assassins.

"It is definitely not..."

"... related to Van in..."

"... any way. We..."

"... made sure of that by tailing..."

"... him the moment he arrived in the city and..."

"... eavesdropping on him."

They both looked at Lalyn squarely.

"Van has no connection to the dragon attacks or the demons. None whatsoever," the two said in unison, their gaze sharp and unwavering.

Lalyn studied their eyes, finding no trace of hesitation or doubt.

"... Well, considering it's you two... I'll concede." Lalyn sighed, turning back to Nickelson as he continued addressing the crowd.

'Mika told me what happened,' Amoria thought to herself, glancing at the two assassin sisters. 'Van saved them from slavery, and given the mark and the type of master they had, they couldn't have called for help... It really was pure coincidence,' Amoria concluded, momentarily looking upward.

'Thank you, dear Goddess, for aiding us in our time of need.' She silently prayed before turning back to the group.

"I also believe them," Amoria declared, her resolve clear. "I... Was short-sighted, being worried about something like that,"

"Hah," Marcy scoffed, "I knew it. It really was just a coincidence. Get your facts straight before throwing around accusations, Ice witc—" Marcy was cut off as Lalyn blew cold air into her ear again.

"K-kyA!!" Marcy yelped, snapping backward as she clutched her ear, drawing attention from the crowd.

"What was that!?"

"I think it was Marcy..."

"N-no way... For her to make a noise like that..."

"It had to be someone else from that group..." The knights and adventurers murmured, their eyes shifting toward the group. Even Nickelson paused his speech to sigh.

"... I dislike that kind of language, Marcy. Please, mend it." Lalyn softly, yet firmly, insisted.

Marcy's face flushed red as she gritted her teeth, glaring at Lalyn, "Y-YOU ICE BITCH...!!! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!!!?" She yelled, drawing even more glances her way.

"N-now, now..." Amoria interjected gently, raising her palms as she stepped between the two.

"That aside, everyone! I want you all to rejoice!" Nickelson called out loudly, turning even more heads. Every eye in the crowd gleamed with attention. "These demons have come here to help us defeat the Dragon King as an act of goodwill! I know it sounds extraordinary, but I assure you once again, we are in no danger whatsoever," he declared, stepping forward and raising his fist in the air.

"And now, with their help, the Dragon King will beg for mercy as we take his life for disturbing our peace!!!" he shouted, and the audience erupted, chanting his name and screaming wildly.

"Haah... Well, I guess that's that," Marcy murmured, stretching as she glanced over at Varlog, who stood by with a casual smile.

'Coming in peace, are you?' she thought, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him.

Varlog noticed her gaze and turned to her, nodding with a soft smile as if acknowledging an old acquaintance from a distance.

"Tsche. Fuck this. I'm heading off," Marcy muttered in annoyance, clicking her tongue as she turned and began walking toward the capital.

"I suppose we should also head off...? My daughter is quite the worrywart," Amoria suggested to Lalyn and the assassin sisters. Lalyn nodded and followed Amoria without a word.

"... Mika, Rika..? Are you not coming?" Amoria asked, noticing the two glancing at the demonic group beside Nickelson.

"You should go. We want..."

"... to stay and gather some..."

"... information about this." They stated firmly.

"Alright," Amoria replied, "But... please be careful." She nodded at them before walking away with Lalyn.

Several minutes later, Varlog decided to seek solitude, informing Yilla, Nickelson, and Liliac that he needed to gather his thoughts. He could feel eyes lingering on him but couldn't pinpoint where they came from.

He wandered to a small forested area and leaned against a tree.

"You have quite the luscious land," he remarked with a calm sigh. "Despite our earlier feuds, I cannot help but commend the beauty and dedication in preserving it."

"Feuds is too small..."

"... a word for the wars we fought..."

"... and sacrifices we made..."

"... Varlog." Two voices, identical in pitch and tone, whispered from behind the tree Varlog leaned against. He could feel two knives hovering an inch from his neck.

'How talented. It took quite a bit for me to notice them,' he thought, glancing at the knives.

"... But forget about that. You would..."

"... know we aren't here for mere..."

"... idle chatter." They concluded.

"I know," Varlog replied, "That aside... I'm more curious about the fact that you called me by name. As charismatic and influential as your Greatknight may be, I doubt it's his doing that led you to address me so directly. Speak your mind," he urged.

"...."

"...."

The two remained silent for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed.

"... We shall recite to you what..."

"... we believe to be a..."

"... curse in the demonic tongue. We..."

"... need you to..."

"... tell us its meaning." They requested.

Varlog's eyebrows shot up as he pursed his lips.

"Of course. If it is within my ability, I will translate it for you. Allies must support each other, don't they?" he assured them. "However, I need to know the context," Varlog added, "at least roughly."

"...."

"...."

"... Torture and..."

"... punishment."

'Interesting... Could there be a demon who has gone rogue in the Capital...? Or perhaps... a greater scheme at play?' he pondered.

"Very well. Speak it," he instructed. The two then began to recite, word by word, everything Van had spoken in the demonic tongue back at Salem Dyke's basement.

"This... This..." Varlog narrowed his eyes, deep in thought as a sudden shift in his tone occurred. The two sisters lowered their knives, listening intently.

"This... What... What was the context again?" he asked.

The two assassins exchanged worried glances as they noticed the supreme demon's concern.

"Torture and Punishment," they echoed, their voices filled with unease.

"Torture... And... Punishment...!? What...? Why would such words be used in..."

Varlog's gaze shifted almost frantically as he stared ahead, while the two sisters emerged from their hiding place into the open.

"What does this..."

"... mean? Tell us..."

"... now."

They urged, their usual calm shattered by Varlog's unusual reaction. Even these masters of assassination couldn't hide their anxiety.

What exactly was the curse that Van had used? What did he say? What kind of business was he involved in?

Varlog's eyes widened in disbelief...

... before he let out a light cackle.

"Hahahaha... Truly... Such a dangerous chant if used incorrectly..." His expression relaxed, causing the assassins to tilt their heads in confusion.

Varlog then looked at the two intensely for a brief moment.

'... A slave mark,' he sensed. 'And quite a potent one. And... each is their own master? Such a thing should be impossible. You cannot brand yourself. Unless someone else branded them and then transferred ownership. It was recent. And now this...'

'I think I understand what happened.'

"It is my shopping list," Varlog stated plainly. '... Spoken in quite the wrong manner, I might add. I'll need to give Van some more intense teaching sessions...'

"A shopping..."

"... list?" The two tilted their heads even more, baffled.

"Why, yes. For quite a good roast, I might add," he replied lightly.

The assassins scrutinized the mighty demon. "Hold this," Mika said, pulling out a truth stone.

"... And say it again." They ordered, handing Varlog the truth stone, which he took with a smile.

"My shopping list. Well, more like my wife's shopping list... Though, I believe it still counts," he confidently repeated. The stone remained unresponsive.

The two assassins looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"The incantation we relayed to you is..."

"... your shopping list?"

"... Really?" They checked.

"Indeed," he assured them, still holding the stone. "I don't know what the person who spoke this curse thought they were saying... But this is what it means."

Shortly after, the two assassins vanished from Varlog's sight.

'Oh dear, how swift,' he thought, mildly impressed.

"A shopping list..."

"... he said..." They echoed each other, standing in a secluded spot in the forest, their voices trembling.

"A shopping list..."

"... just a shopping list..."

The two then shed tears of joy and relief, holding each other as they smiled warmly.

"Haaah... Should I tell them that Van is also safe...?" Varlog wondered, glancing in the direction they had gone. "Oh, no matter. These resourceful children know where to find me," he concluded with a nod, before making his presence disappear and vanishing into the forest as well. He leaned against another tree...

... and coughed up blood as he clutched his shoulder.

"Oh dear..." he murmured, wiping his lips.

"I used to shrug off such injuries... But it seems I am... getting old..." He struggled to suppress a cough, as the wound Liliac had inflicted earlier began to stain his clothes with blood.

'I held this wound closed with my magic... But oh my... I am struggling to stay conscious,' he thought, breathing deeply as he burned the blood off his clothes.

'... I must hold on, he resolved, straightening his posture. Until you are ready to spread your wings and go on without me, I must hold on,' he thought, picturing Alicia in his mind as he started walking out of the forest.

'And... to be able to see you for a little longer as well. Belial... My precious boy,' he thought as he walked back to the plains. 'Wherever you may be now, I pray to the Archdevil that you are safe.'