Chapter 9: Once, the Demon King of Lust Spoke

Once, the Demon King of Lust spoke.

Even without the magic of aggression, there was nothing lacking in the pursuit of desire.
That there was no obstacle to fulfilling one’s cravings. She said so as she gently stroked my head, though I had grown so gaunt from not eating.

Her cool, composed beauty and intoxicatingly glamorous figure were so breathtaking that even I—a woman myself—felt dangerously close to falling into infatuation, to corruption. This must be what they mean by demonic beauty. And alongside that awe, I couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Perhaps she wanted me to see “Lust Luxeria” from a perspective different than the world usually did. It must have been an unbearably sweet, dark, and fragile sentiment.

That Demon King has long since been destroyed. But her teaching has taken root deep within me, at my very core, and lives on.

It is often said that Lust, among the deadly sins, is the hardest attribute for demons to wield.

Demons are not so easily swayed by carnal allure.

Greed manifests as material desire. Pride, as the thirst for glory. Gluttony is appetite, while Envy and Wrath take different directions altogether. Sloth? The world ends with themselves; they cannot even remember your name.

And the higher-ranked a demon is, the more powerful they become, the more their very being is steeped in the pursuit of their particular desire. For a Demon King, all other emotions are little more than paper-thin scraps left behind.

My current enemy is not the Demon King of Gluttony, but rather another Demon King from my own side.

It has been decades—no, centuries—since we have fought side by side. The least he could do is remember my name. Is it too sinful of me to wish for that?

I hate Greed’s Deji. Yet, I acknowledge his formidable combat ability.

Neither I nor Pride take the initiative to charge into battle. Even our master, Lord Lazy, has no such inclination. Thus, Deji, who demands powerful weapons as rewards, has proven the most useful in our master’s army.

His battles are driven directly by his desire. He alone is the predator among us.

And that… I can’t help but envy.

I, too, have things I want. I’ve just never been bold enough to voice them. Even if that is inevitable, given the nature of my sin.

Engagement came in seconds.

I may be called small, unsociable, or lacking in charm, but that has nothing to do with strength. With the leg power of an upper demon, I kicked off the ground and crossed the open wilderness in an instant, closing several kilometers to reach Gluttony’s advancing army.

My divided vision blurred, then split again, doubling.

The number of perspectives now exceeded a hundred. And yet, the army of Gluttony, clear even hundreds of meters away, gave no sign of noticing me.

The Lust Luxeria skill tree contains, above all else, skills for mental corruption.

From basic charms to freely weaving illusions, to forcing sleep upon others—those are the common skills.

But for demons, these hold little value.

For in the earliest tiers of a demon’s fundamental skill tree lies passive resistance to mental corruption. Other races may rarely possess it, but for demons and angels it is so foundational that lacking it would be the true anomaly.

Thus, demons who embody Lust Luxeria are scorned. The beginner to intermediate mental corruption skills in our tree are nullified outright by that basic resistance.

At worst, we are mocked as playthings. I have slaughtered those who saw me through such a lens. At critical times they show no true interest, but in idle moments they dare to toy with me. I am not Pride, yet my pride is pricked. I am not Wrath, yet my heart blazes with fury.

They are gravely mistaken about Lust Luxeria.

It is not that I lack allure. Not that I lack charm. I take care with my hair, my skin, my clothing. I work hard to wear a bright and approachable expression.

If my body lacks curves, that is not my fault. The blame lies with my malnourished childhood. By the time I realized, no matter how much I tried to eat well, it was too late.

I cannot help but curse fate.

Still, it doesn’t matter. To borrow my master’s favorite phrase, nothing really matters.

I don’t seek to be the object of desire for the masses, nor do I crave to embrace them.

Gluttony’s Legion, commanded by Zebul, is made almost entirely of demons cursed with the sin of Gluttony.

Their skill tree excels in wide-area attacks. Second only to Wrath’s in destructive power.

But if they cannot land a blow, that power means nothing.

Resistance to mental corruption also means they are poorly equipped to respond if it is ever broken.

Especially against Lust’s higher-tier skill, 『Divided Phantom Dance』. It is more than simple corruption. All the visions my illusions capture feed directly into my mind.

At last, the foremost demons halted, catching a glimpse of my flickering phantom.

The power emanating from them was far from weak. Zebul’s army is formidable indeed.

The Gluttonous host was a horde of twisted, beastlike demons. Few retained human form. Their savage howls—beastly hunger made manifest—rode the wind across the wilderness.

The power each radiated was little different from those of the Third Army. But with no path left but forward—having defied the Great Demon King Kanon, already slain two Demon Kings—they fought with their backs against the wall. A narrow victory would not suffice. Only overwhelming triumph could prove them worthy to stand against Kanon’s remaining fifteen Demon Kings.

I heard the reason for their rebellion was simple: hunger. The Demon Realm offers meager sustenance. To ordinary demons it is sufficient, but Gluttony’s sin magnifies need without end. The more they eat, the more power they gain. Just as Lust strengthens with each act of union. Just as Envy grows stronger the more envy it harbors.

One of the foremost demons activated a gluttonous skill.

A wave of black magic surged outward, instantly engulfing me.

So this… is Gluttony’s skill. How fearsome.

The magic cloaking my body was pierced, stripped away like flesh by teeth. My controlled battle enhancements were forcibly unraveled, my magic reduced to raw energy. My strength bled away.

So this is Gluttony: consuming the magic of others, reclaiming it, and turning it as they will.

Unable to find my true body, they simply targeted all. The sheer range made them a troublesome foe for Lust. I knew that from the start.

That is why I stepped forward. I, one of only three generals under Lord Lazy.

Even if my powers are poorly matched, even if I am not born for battle, the gap in rank as demons cannot be erased.

They faltered for but a moment—fooled by Lust Luxeria’s appearance. To underestimate me so.

But only for a moment. At once their eyes lit with hunger. These creatures even devour their own kind. Not metaphorically, but literally. That is why I despise them. No, it’s not that I wish to be devoured in the other sense…

Claws slashed across my cheek, drawing blood. Before it even scattered through the air, my hand-knife ripped into the attacker’s throat. One down. Without confirming the kill, I kicked off the ground again.

I would prefer to use Lust’s skills, but since the lower-tier ones are useless here, all I can rely on is close combat. Still, that is enough.

Fangs lunged from behind, piercing my abdomen—only to devour one of my phantoms entirely. The blood that spattered into the air instantly turned into illusion and vanished.

One vision disappeared. But such a thing doesn’t trouble me in the slightest. Even against demons of Gluttony, my direct strikes land true. It has been a long while since I fought this directly, but I’ll manage. I can still fight.

Deji is an infuriating man, but his combat sense is undeniable. Base as he may be, the fact that he seized the commander’s position with nothing but raw ability in merely a decade cannot be taken lightly.

Gathering and consolidating the five senses of countless illusions—that is my role. Destruction is not.

The task entrusted to me is to test the strength of a Demon King. I don’t need to be told; I know it.

Gluttony’s Zebul. To experience firsthand the renowned higher-tier Demon King’s skills—that is why I, master of illusions, was chosen. Even Deji’s Third Army, with its attack power and mobility, could be wiped out in an instant if they were to face a Demon King’s skill head-on.

Not all Demon Kings are equal. Their power varies—attack, endurance, agility, temperament, and unique abilities. There is no doubt Zebul is powerful, but we needed to know the nature of that power firsthand.

Losses to the army would be losses to Lord Lazy himself. They must be prevented.

Then, the entire army froze.

A chill tore through body and spirit, stripping away strength and pride.

At the center stood a looming shadow, like a small mountain. That was the source of the dread.

The sensation was one of being washed away, broken down piece by piece, until nothing remained.

Never once, in all the years I have served, have I felt anything like this. The shock stilled my hand for an instant.

Impossible… this is—

In the blink of a thought, clusters of demons—ten at a time—were gone.

But that wasn’t the most pressing concern. Demon King battles are battles of territory. And now, the balance had been broken.

“Lord Lazy’s territory… was devoured!?”

“…Well, well. Where the hell did you pop out from, girl…?”

Deji let out a voice of exasperation when I suddenly appeared before him.

It’s fine—for now. Even here, several kilometers away, the devouring hasn’t reached us yet.

One by one, my phantoms were erased, collapsing as they were absorbed. The moment I kicked off the ground to retreat, tendrils snared my legs and hurled me into the air. A black, dumpling-like sphere whipped its countless tentacles around. That was the last sight one of my phantoms recorded. The instant it touched that black body, the illusion was gone.

Such overwhelming power. I couldn’t even fool its vision long enough to act.

Even a general-class demon’s strength was useless.

A demon beyond demons. A monster driven to the extreme of its sin. This was a higher Demon King.

I thought I understood. But the reality was… far beyond. I couldn’t even tell what skill had been used. Or rather, even if I knew, I could not avoid it.

The difference in base ability was too vast. The difference in desire, too absolute.

A phantom’s fist, infused with magic, struck Zebul’s back. For an instant it seemed to pierce through—but was swallowed whole. The phantom tried to pull away, but in an instant it was digested, its consciousness snuffed out.

Even as a test, even as a phantom, a general-class demon being killed so easily—that is what a Demon King is.

To sweep away Lust’s illusions without a second thought. Pure, unadulterated violence.

A newcomer he may be, but one who has already consumed two Demon Kings. The weight of that fact pressed down upon us.

“Deji, this is bad… this thing is strong…”

“…Heh. Of course it is. He’s a higher Demon King. Unless we go at him ready to kill Lord Lazy himself, we don’t stand a chance…”

Deji manipulated his six arms with practiced ease, letting out a sigh.

An infuriating man. But, indeed, he was right.

And yet Zebul’s power was… abnormal. In the centuries since I was born, nothing I have seen even comes close.

I see no path to victory. That is my honest impression after facing him in battle.

Should we retreat and regroup?

“Should we pull back and reorganize?”

“Nah. If we do, my army’s done for. Only choice is to fight.”

Deji raised his flame-blackened lips in a mocking grin as he swung up the sword in his right hand.

The demon sword Celeste. Said to have slain the legendary fire dragon Celeste, it was a sword of flame.

One of the greatest demon swords, bestowed upon him by the Great Demon King himself, now swung wide.