Chapter 47: The Demon Lord Makes an Appearance

"Everyone, please quiet down! I ask for your attention and silence!"

Inside the cathedral’s grandest chapel, the host’s voice echoed across polished stone walls and gleaming floors, bright under the warm light. The domed ceiling soared more than ten meters overhead, amplifying every sound. Sacred murals covered that vast expanse, filling the space with an almost divine sense of awe.

"We will now begin the ‘Preparatory Assembly to Establish a Unified Fundamental Policy Among the Western Nations Against the Demon Lord’s Army.’ The proceedings will be overseen by myself, Bishop October of the Western Unified Holy Church."

Ah, so October’s the moderator this time.
We’ve had our share of clashes before, but after that last incident, something shifted—he’s been surprisingly civil lately.

As his voice carried through the hall, I couldn’t help thinking how ridiculously long that meeting title was. My attention wandered, and I glanced around.

It’s rare for representatives from over twenty western nations to gather in one place.
Even though our world has a fairly organized state system, most diplomacy happens between neighboring countries. A multinational summit like this is practically unheard of.

From what I’d heard, the Church had worked itself to exhaustion just trying to bring everyone together. That alone said a lot about how difficult unified discussion has become on this continent.

This, of course, wasn’t some round-table meeting of equals.
Several long tables had been connected to form a massive square, hollow at the center. Each side of that square represented a strict hierarchy.

At the far end, before the statue of God himself, sat the royal family of the Dalai Tokazma Empire—the largest power among the western nations in both land and military might. Their seats were placed at the most prominent position.

Meanwhile, our tiny Sugarcreek Kingdom had been allotted a single seat near the entrance, as low in rank as possible. The chairs were packed tightly, leaving barely enough room to breathe.

Blatant discrimination, really. But I guess that’s just the price of being a small nation.

Rows of additional chairs lined the outer edge, where aides and secretaries sat behind their country’s representatives, managing the paperwork and logistics. Behind even them stood guards and attendants, silent and still.

The guards were clad head to toe in plate armor—a rather intimidating sight.
It seemed the restriction on attendee numbers wasn’t meant as an insult after all; the chapel simply couldn’t hold any more people.

As my gaze swept across the hall... I spotted something I almost wished I hadn’t.

Our very own Demon Lord, calmly seated among the representatives of the Kingdom of Liner—with Miss Olive right beside him, chatting away as if they belonged there.

Since Liner was the host nation, they apparently had permission to bring a few extra attendees. A privilege, I suppose.

But still—what are they doing here?
Even in the middle of the assembly, Olive was leaning toward the Demon Lord with a carefree smile, clearly enjoying herself.

Seriously, why are you two even here?

Our seats were too far apart for me to call out, but our eyes met.
I smiled.

The Demon Lord blinked rapidly, then furrowed his brows—clearly suspicious.
I raised a finger to my lips in a quiet “shhh” gesture.
He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. That should do for now. I’d explain later.

Beside him, Olive tilted her head in my direction, puzzled.
Good, good—looks like the bait worked.

Well, I am pulling a few tricks behind the scenes, after all. Can’t be helped.

"I am Prince Babylon of the Kingdom of Narencia. It is an honor to witness the wisdom and foresight of His Holiness Pope Ange, who convened this assembly under the guidance of the Western Unified Holy Church. Allow me to extend my—"

And thus began the formal introductions.
Endless ones.

Each representative took their turn, clearly eager to show off their importance now that this rare multinational forum had finally come to pass.

But with over twenty countries present, even brief introductions piled up into a painfully long ordeal.

"I am Honja, Chief Legal Officer of the Dalai Tokazma Empire. This conference was made possible through the kind intercession of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Girinades of our great Empire. We look forward to the establishment of a unified western strategy."

And on it went.
Some representatives skipped their turn—usually those from major nations—which only made the rest of us more curious about who the silent ones were.

Eventually, my turn came. I’d been informed beforehand that I would have to introduce myself, so there was no escaping it.

"I am Sonia, First Princess of the Sugarcreek Kingdom. This conference has been made possible thanks to the tireless efforts of Bishop October and many others within the Church, to whom I extend my deepest gratitude. One of our border fortresses has fallen to the Demon Lord’s army, and we hope to provide useful intelligence in this matter. May this assembly bring peace to the western lands. May God bless us all."

The response was... chilly.
No warm smiles—only looks of disdain, mockery, and, in some cases, lust.

Well, it’s not like there are many women here. The few who are—like Miss Olive—are merely attendants who never speak.
Come to think of it, am I the only woman who actually introduced herself?

The sense of isolation was palpable.
Still, I kept my polite smile as I sat back down.

Today, I must play the role of Princess Sonia flawlessly—a performance worthy of all the grueling lessons Kamina drilled into me.

Thank you, Kamina.
Your merciless training paid off—I can now act like a proper noblewoman.

...Though the Demon Lord’s gaze felt different from the others.
His eyes burned with curiosity and doubt, never once looking away from me.

Once all introductions finally concluded, a short recess was announced.
I slipped out of the main hall and into one of the side corridors, waiting in the shadow of a pillar.
As expected, the Demon Lord showed up almost immediately.

"Explain."

That was the first thing out of his mouth. No greeting, no hesitation—straight to the point.
So typically him.

"…As I thought, it doesn’t work on you, Lord Maor."

"Hm?"

He frowned slightly, then gave a slow nod.
"I see… ‘Disguise Illusion,’ is it?"

At the moment, my face was under a spell cast by Berial.
It wasn’t powerful—just enough to subtly alter my features, like makeup that changes a person’s impression. To someone who doesn’t know me well, I’d look like a different person entirely.
And to anyone without magical perception, I’d appear as a total stranger.

But the spell had no effect on the Demon Lord. He could sense the magic at work, but the altered appearance itself was invisible to him.

"Correct, Lord Maor. However, this technique is a state secret of the Sugarcreek Kingdom. I must ask that you keep it confidential."

"Hmph… understood. But why would Ains be here? …Wait. I see. A body double."

I smiled faintly at his muttering.
Better to let him fill in the blanks himself—he’s good at constructing his own explanations.

"So then… she predicted this situation in advance. That’s why she prepared a double. Which means she must have escaped the fortress safely…"

The Demon Lord murmured to himself for a moment, then suddenly broke into a broad, amused grin.
I had no clue what he was talking about, but at least my disguise seemed to be working perfectly.

For the record, Berial used the weakest version of the spell, but since I have zero magical aptitude, even that much is draining. My mental stamina is being eaten away second by second.
At this rate, I’ll probably collapse the moment the conference ends.

"Heh heh heh. Ains, your mistress is a clever one. You should be proud."

"…Ah. I believe Lady Sonia would say, ‘Your praise honors me,’ in this situation."

"But I understand everything now. I see… Sonia, that woman, intrigues me more and more!"

The Demon Lord suddenly burst into delighted laughter for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom.

Wait—what? How did you reach that conclusion?

Still, at least he no longer found my presence suspicious. If anything, he seemed oddly pleased.
Well, as long as he’s content, that’s what matters.

"In that case, please excuse me, Lord Maor. I have another meeting to attend."

"Very well. But do look forward to what’s coming. You might be in for a little surprise."

And with that cryptic remark, he turned and strode down the corridor.

A surprise…?
Now what on earth is he planning?

"I cannot allow such a despicable attitude that casts a shadow over the prestige of the Dalai Tokazma Empire."

"Hah! Bold words from a great empire that hasn’t even faced the Demon Lord’s army in battle. Instead of boasting, shouldn’t you focus on maintaining the frontlines, securing supply routes, and resolving matters diplomatically?"

The meeting had begun calmly enough, but the moment discussion turned to how to confront the Demon Lord’s army, it devolved into chaos.

The established powers—long-standing nations like the Dalai Tokazma Empire—insisted on a strict, uncompromising military response.
The newer nations, on the other hand, argued that the Demon Lord’s army should not only be feared but also engaged through negotiation.
The two sides clashed furiously over strategy, their voices rising through the cathedral.

"…Then, for reference, I would like to hear the perspective of the Sugarcreek Kingdom, which is already under direct threat from the Demon Lord’s army."

Bishop October’s voice cut through the noise, turning all eyes toward me.
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, then rose to speak.

"Our request from the Sugarcreek Kingdom is simple. We wish to liberate the occupied fortress and secure our territory. That is all."

"And would you prefer to achieve this through combat or negotiation?"
October’s tone carried a faint note of amusement.

I nodded once, then swept my gaze across the gathered nobles.

"Among you all, how many have actually faced the Demon Lord’s army in combat—and experienced its power firsthand?"
My quiet question stilled the room.

"We in Sugarcreek have witnessed that power ourselves. Because of that, we cannot easily support the notion that the Demon Lord’s army can be suppressed by force alone."

"So you favor a diplomatic solution, then? Princess of Sugarcreek?"
The Empire’s Chief Legal Officer, Honja, asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"No," I said firmly. "Diplomatic resolution is meaningless if the other side has no intention to cooperate. When the enemy’s motives are unknown, the only rational response is to prepare for force. That is my conclusion."

A few appreciative murmurs of hoh rippled through the hall.
Good. Everything was proceeding just as I planned.

If I could secure support from a few nations and stretch this meeting a bit longer, something useful might surface. Time, for now, was on my side.

…Under normal circumstances, it might be possible to negotiate reparations with the Demon Lord’s army and settle matters diplomatically. But at present, their motives remain unclear.
If this is an invasion, negotiation is out of the question.
And if the Demon Lord’s true objective—within the game’s logic—is me, Sonia, as a human sacrifice, then I might well be offered up to him in exchange for the kingdom’s safety.

I hate the idea of someone being made miserable for the sake of others.
I’m an egalitarian in that sense—I believe misfortune should be shared equally.
Or rather… I refuse to allow a happy ending that comes at my expense!

"Kyah!"

"What?!"

"What’s happening?!"

The heated debate froze as panicked voices rose.
In the center of the hollow square formed by the tables, something appeared—seemingly out of nowhere.

A throne-like chair shimmered into existence, radiating a dark, oppressive aura.
Upon it sat an imposing old man with a magnificent beard, clad in jagged, black armor that gleamed dully under the chapel light.
A glass of crimson wine dangled lazily from his hand as his sharp, intelligent eyes swept over the assembly of trembling humans.

He looked… exactly like a classic final boss.
And that face—I’d seen it before. In the game.

Yes. There was no mistaking it.

"I am the Commander of the Demon Lord’s Army and the 666th Emperor of the Green Goltz Magic Empire, the Demon Lord. You, leaders of the human autonomous territories, are granted an audience with me."

The figure was merely a projection—a holographic image the Demon Lord used when addressing his subordinates. Yet even as an illusion, it radiated overwhelming presence and authority.

Meanwhile, the real Demon Lord—sitting among Liner’s representatives—appeared to be dozing off at his desk, his consciousness clearly elsewhere.

…An Emperor of the Magic Empire?
That wasn’t part of his game profile. Not even close.