Kind Demon King

I killed animals.

I killed bugs from the Horde.

I killed my fellow humans.

Most of the time, it felt like a chore—no pride, no regret, no malice. Just something to get over with. But fuck it. Fuck it all. I buried my hands in my hair, hunched over. There was a limit—there had to be a limit! But of course, there wasn't. Fuck! It’s okay. I’m okay. What I did was necessary—a small evil for a greater good. A voice in the back of my mind accused me of making excuses.

“You could have found another way.”

It slithered around my skull like a venomous snake.

“Her breathing is better now. Are you okay?” Ama asked, her voice cutting through my spiral.

I shot up, surprising both myself and her with my sudden movement. “I’ll return. I need to formally join them now. If she wakes, tell her I’m sorry.”

I said it like my apology could change anything. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm, her tiny white hand surprisingly strong. “I have an idea about what happened. I don’t blame you. You did the best thing in the worst situation.”

She gave me a gentle nod. I walked away without replying, feeling hollow. I knew I was about to see terrible things, but…

“Okay, enough.”

I slapped my cheeks, shaking off the fog. I had a job to do. Find how many guards and beastkin there were. What were the patrols and security like? I have to report them back. I returned to the barracks.

“Come, come!”

The barracks were surrounded by wooden walls with sharpened ends. A tower loomed at the main gate, but all the guards faced inward, their goal to keep the beastkin locked in.

“My name is Guart Nemila. Call me Captain. There’s your uniform. You’ll be on guard tonight until dawn. Most likely, your only job will be to stay awake. What’s your name?”

“Poyraz.”

He frowned. “An exotic name.”

“My parents liked that kind of stuff.”

I glanced at the documents on his desk. Despite the unfamiliar alphabet and language, I could read them, but I dared not stare too long in front of him.

“Shifts change weekly. After this week, you’ll be on the day shift. It’s harder, believe me. You’ll need to escort them to the mines and keep them working. The night is just calmer.”

I studied him, sure he had fought in a war long ago. Though he still had the remnants of discipline, it didn’t stop him from being garbage.

“If you get really bored, you can just grab one of them. Just make sure your dick doesn’t get bitten off.”

He laughed as if he had told the funniest joke in the world. I joined in, not because I found it funny but because I imagined smashing his head in. He stood up, still chuckling.

“Anyways. Gotta go. Wear these and meet with the others. They’ll tell you where to stand.”

...

I sighed and leaned against the wall. It had been 20 days since I joined the guards. What I saw there was… I had witnessed cruelty in my previous life, but this was something else entirely. The guards reminded me of the Nanjing Massacre. Yet, a few things kept my sanity in check. One was Larve, who showed no signs of malnutrition or the side effects of sleeping all day. I didn’t know if it was thanks to her race or Ama’s spells—maybe both. Another thing was that I could help some of the slaves by providing them with more food and water. I never mentioned my work with Black Claw; that was Ama’s decision due to the risks involved. I also managed to smuggle some of the more fragile beastkin out by making excuses, like saying they carried infectious diseases. They were healed by Ama and escorted by Arslan to a safer place. The numbers were still low, but it was better than nothing.

“You look tired. Both mentally and physically,” Ama said, offering me a mug. The rich aroma jolted me awake.

“Coffee?”

Ama looked surprised. “You know about coffee?”

I made a praying motion. I hadn’t drunk coffee in years—too busy running and fighting. Just eating and drinking water consumed all my time.

“I’m addicted to it.”

“Good for you then. Whifur produces a shit ton of coffee.”

Arslan toasted.

“Can you just get to the point?” Ursara, the bear beastkin, asked. I took a sip.

Bitter.

Black.

Tastes like shit.

This is my kind of coffee. I took another sip.

“I thought you didn’t put sugar and milk in his coffee!” Blaria, the bunny beastkin, whispered to Ursara. Heh. Did they think I can’t drink black coffee? Amateurs. I drank military-issued coffee, this is nothing.

“There are around 40 guards—20 on the night shift and 20 on the day. Only half of them actually know how to fight.”

I set down my mug.

“There are about 120 beastkin. Ten have died in the 20 days I’ve been here. There are talks of 50 more arriving next week, brought in by some noble family.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Arslan remarked.

“Their philosophy is use and throw. Instead of giving them enough food and time to recover, they choose to spend them.”

The mood in the room soured.

“Who is this noble family?” Ama asked, her tone serious.

“Someone from the Silverfox family.”

Before I finished my sentence, the air in the room grew tense. Red energy surged from Ama. I gulped, instinctively backing away.

“Amaterasu, calm down! Hey! You’re releasing your mana! Ursara and Blaria can’t stand it!”

Just before Arslan lunged toward her and grabbed her shoulders, I saw her expression—a mask of hatred, not anger. I recognized the difference all too well. I glanced at the duo; they looked like they were struggling to breathe. I quickly dragged them outside, where they gasped for air.

“How the fuck can you breathe even though you can’t use mana?” Blaria asked, catching her breath. I gave them a shit-eating grin.

“Guess I’m just built different.”

Mana in this world was a mysterious power that allowed people to perform various feats. Ama used it to cast spells, and the energy surrounding Arslan’s blades when we fought was also mana. I had only one point of mana. Some skilled soldiers in the camp could use it to enhance their bodies and weapons. I wanted to learn, but finding a teacher was currently impossible.

“What’s the deal with the Silverfoxes? Are they slavers?”

Ama's calm demeanor was surprising. After 20 days of witnessing the horrors done to her people, she still managed to behave like a mature mother figure, always sporting a slight smile. Her sudden rage was shocking. Both Blaria and Ursara exchanged glances.

“Her parents were killed by a Silverfox,” Ursara spoke up.

Blaria spat on the ground. “If only that were the only thing. Those animals!”