First Arrival in Demon Territory

(About a thousand years ago)

Before the dizzying, soul-ripping sensation had fully subsided, Lorenz's consciousness was abruptly pulled back to reality.

What came into view was not the ruins of the field hospital or the familiar, simple ceiling of the dormitory from my memory, but a dark, towering dome that made my heart pound.

The dome was constructed of some kind of dark metal or crystal that seemed to devour all light, and was inlaid with a few eerie gems that emitted a pale green or dark purple fluorescence. It cast mottled, twisting and writhing light and shadow, making the entire space resemble the inside of the belly of some ancient beast, filled with an indescribable sense of oppression and eeriness.

He found himself sitting on an unusually large, aggressively shaped "seat." Though called a throne, it seemed more like a molten forge of twisted black bones, solidified shadows, and some kind of living metal. Its touch was icy cold, and its edges were so sharp they seemed capable of easily slicing through flesh.

The armrests were shaped like the menacing fangs of some unknown behemoth, and the backrests were towering, with a huge crystal at the top that pulsated slowly and emitted an ominous, eerie red light. The pulsation seemed to resonate in some unsettling way with the heart of his new body.

"What... what kind of place is this?" he muttered subconsciously, and the moment the words left his mouth, he was stunned. The voice was deep, with a strange, reverberant magnetic resonance, completely different from the voice he remembered, younger, and more... inhuman.

He looked down at his body. He was wearing an ancient and elaborate outfit, mainly in deep purple and dark gold. The material was neither cloth nor armor, and its surface was covered with a faint, magical aura, like the breath of a living being.

And a strange, immense power, so powerful it made his heart pound, was quietly lurking within his body. What startled him even more was the distinct sensation he felt on either side of his forehead, slightly above his temples, a pair of hard, subtly curved protrusions! He instinctively reached out to touch them—cool, smooth, with a horn-like texture, and slightly pointed ends...they were genuine horns!

"Tsk..." Lorenz, or rather, the consciousness that had taken over the body of the Demon King named "Lorenz," uttered a sound that was a mixture of absurdity and knowing, "So, this is the usual stuff? A classic industry opening? Where's the dump truck? Where's the Grand Tour? A day off? These days, even the onboarding process is this perfunctory?"

Judging by this grand entrance, this vantage point, and the surging power within him... this person is probably no ordinary roadside monster, but a Demons of extremely high status, perhaps even...

Just as his mind was in chaos, trying to make sense of this absurd situation, a calm yet imposing voice, like the friction of ice, rang out from below the throne, interrupting his thoughts.

"Lorenz."

He—now Lorenz —looked down in the direction of the sound.

Beneath the throne lay a vast, somber hall. The floor was paved with smooth, mirror-like black stone slabs, reflecting the ominous light emanating from the dome, stretching out seemingly without end. On either side of the hall stood silent, uniquely shaped, yet all exuding a fierce aura, Demons stone statues. Their empty eye sockets seemed to be fixed on the throne, exerting silent pressure.

Right in front of the throne, about twenty paces away, stood a figure.

He was a tall and imposing Demons male. He wore a well-tailored, dark-colored outfit with exquisite metal armor, over which he wore a dark red cloak with ornate patterns. His face was stern, with sharp, chiseled features, and his scarlet pupils, like refined rubies, were cold, deep, and devoid of any emotion. He was calmly gazing at Lorenz on the throne.

He also had a pair of elegantly curved, dark demonic horns on his forehead, which appeared more restrained and composed than the horns Lorenz felt on his own, but lacked a flamboyant domineering aura. What was most eye-catching was the longsword he held in his hand, its blade narrow and long, surrounded by a faint, almost imperceptible, dark aura that seemed capable of Frozen the soul. The tip of the sword lightly touched the ground, radiating a chilling coldness and a resolute fighting spirit.

"Are you ready?" the Demons spoke, his voice calm and even, yet carrying an undeniable, resolute tone. "The throne of the Demon King, I want it."

Lorenz was stunned.

He held up a finger and pointed uncertainly at himself. His eyes were filled with confusion, as if asking, "Are you talking to me?" and "The Demon King? Me?"

I'm going to kill Tang Sanzang and his disciples?

Lorenz? Me? The Demon King?

Although I had some guesses, I was still quite shocked.

It took him a full three seconds to process the explosive amount of information contained in that sentence. The Demon King? I'm the Demon King? The Demon King destined to be a nightmare for heroes in a Western fantasy setting?

And hey buddy, your opening line for grabbing a seat was way too direct! Is competition within the Demons this efficient and blatant? You even skipped the "Please enlighten me" formality?

He quickly searched for the remaining fragments of instinctive memories in this body. His impression of the Demons below— Discal —was quite clear: extremely powerful, a top warrior among Demons, and one of the strongest contenders for the title of Demon King.

But regarding the memories of the battle... the conclusion is that if a real fight breaks out, the current "self" (Lorenz) seems to have a much higher chance of winning, and... at this moment he clearly feels that the power hidden deep within this body seems to be even stronger than the "original owner's" peak period in the memory fragments, like some kind of... beginner's bonus? Then Discal is even less likely to be his opponent.

So, fight? To preserve my status Demon King, I'll fight this guy?

Lorenz's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. What a joke! He'd had enough of the fighting and killing in his past life; did he really have to go through another full-blown brawl the moment he opened his eyes in this one? And for a position he considered a hot potato from the bottom of his heart?

To be Demon King? Leading a group of Demons who are obviously not to be trifled with? To conquer the world? Or waiting for some heroes to appear out of nowhere and team up to raid dungeons? Just thinking about this kind of "heaven-sent responsibility" makes one's scalp tingle, exhausting oneself to death with a high probability of dying a horrible death. Who would want to take on such a "heavy responsibility"?

"Oh," Lorenz uttered a dry, monosyllabic sound, then shrugged dismissively, saying in a "take this broken chair if you want" tone, "Ready? You're ready to be the Demon King."

"...?" A faint, almost imperceptible hint of doubt flashed in Discal's crimson pupils, but he maintained his sword-grip stance, repeating, his tone slightly more forceful, as if trying to confirm whether he had misheard some absurd rambling. "Lorenz, what do you mean?"

Lorenz finally snapped out of his turbulent thoughts. He scratched his now unusually smooth black hair with a hint of irritation; the texture was surprisingly pleasant. The movement carried a casualness that seemed completely out of place in the somber atmosphere, as if they were discussing what to eat that night rather than the question of who would become the Demon King.

"Huh? What do you mean?" He sighed, his tone even carrying a hint of impatience. "Didn't you want to be the Demon King? Fine, take it."

He pointed at Discal, then at the uncomfortable chair beneath him, a look on his face that said, "How come you can't understand demon language, you demon?" "Is it the custom here that to inherit the Demon King's throne, you have to sacrifice the predecessor? Is there some kind of ritual, some procedure to follow?"

Discal fell silent again. A rare, brief pause appeared on his perpetually icy, stern face, as if a foreign object had suddenly jammed into a finely tuned gear. Lorenz's reaction was completely beyond any of his pre-planned scenarios.

His grip on the sword loosened slightly, and his crimson pupils scrutinized Lorenz on the throne with a careful, almost scrutinizing gaze, as if trying to confirm whether this Demon King, known for his power, had unfortunately damaged a vital part of his brain structure in some previous battle or during his slumber.

A few seconds later, he spoke slowly, his voice still steady, but the oppressive tension of his confrontation had inexplicably dissipated considerably. "... It doesn't necessarily have to be that way."

"That's settled then!" Lorenz waved his hand with a sigh of relief, his movements swift and decisive, even bordering on impatient. "Congratulations! From now on, you are His Discal Demon King Discal! Do a good job! This position is yours! I'll take my leave now!"

After saying that, he actually stood up from the cold, uncomfortable Demon King that symbolized the supreme power of the Demons race. He even patted the hem of his clothes, which had no dust at all, as if he were trying to shake off some bad luck or get rid of a huge burden.

Then, without even glancing at Discal, he walked with light, almost joyful steps toward a dark passage behind the throne that appeared to be an exit. His steps were as quick as if he had just unloaded a heavy burden and was rushing off to vacation, humming an incomprehensible "hum-hum-hum~hum-hum-hum, hum..."

Discal stood there, gripping the demonic sword that could make all living beings tremble, watching Lorenz show no reluctance, his back even exuding a joyful sense of "liberation," and for a moment he was at a loss for how to react.

He had envisioned countless possibilities: fierce resistance, insidious traps, resentful roars, or compromises after weighing the pros and cons... but he never expected it to be like this... a childish, even disdainful, abandonment.

He watched as Lorenz's figure disappeared into the shadows of the passage. Throughout the entire process, Lorenz didn't even look back once, as if the throne coveted by countless Demons behind him was less attractive than a roasted sweet potato by the roadside.

In the vast, deathly silent hall, only Discal remained, along with the empty throne, still faintly warm with the warmth of the former king... and some indescribable air of nonchalance?

He remained silent for a moment, a glint of light flashing in his crimson pupils, before finally ascending the cold steps, turning, and sitting upon the throne. As he sat down, his movements seemed to pause almost imperceptibly. He scanned the empty hall, his gaze deep, whether contemplating the power he had so easily acquired, or pondering the incomprehensible actions of the former Demon King.

That night, under the eternally gloomy sky of Ende Region, a biting wind swirled with ice shards, howling across the rugged black rocks. Under a sheltered rock face, a campfire struggled to Burning, its flames flickering in the wind.

Lorenz leaned against the rock wall, toying with a strangely shaped, withered bone he had picked up from who-knows-where, his face filled with utter despair. Opposite him, standing silently like an iron tower, was Sam.

Even now, this loyal Demons general maintained his standard standing posture, his golden vertical pupils, illuminated by the firelight, staring unblinkingly at Lorenz, filled with incomprehension and stubbornness.

"Your Majesty, you are the Demon King." Sam's voice was deep and firm, like rocks rubbing against each other.

Lorenz tossed the withered bones into the fire with a soft crackling sound, then rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Hey, Comrade Sam, you... oh, you devil, why are you so stubborn? How many times have I told you, the Demon King is Discal! You're free! Don't you understand? Freedom means you can do whatever you want, and you don't need to call me 'Your Majesty' anymore!"

Sam remained expressionless, his golden pupils not even blinking. "Only you are the true Demon King. Discal's strength is insufficient to earn the loyalty of your subordinates."

"Who asked you to pledge allegiance?!" Lorenz was practically going crazy. He rubbed his temples hard, feeling that communicating with this guy was more tiring than dealing with the most difficult negotiating opponents from his past life.

"Hey you, can't you have some life of your own? Some pursuits of your own? Like... um..." He racked his brains for words, trying to describe the beauty of "freedom" to his stubborn subordinate, "Like finding a beautiful place to live in seclusion? Planting some flowers and plants? Or researching new sword techniques? Wouldn't that be great? The feeling of freedom, doing whatever you want."

Upon hearing this, a hint of confusion flashed in Sam's golden vertical pupils. He frowned slightly, as if the "happiness" Lorenz described was completely beyond his comprehension. "Freedom? I don't understand. Following His Majesty is my only will. No other thoughts are needed."

Lorenz was defeated. He raised his hand to his forehead and let out a long, disheartening sigh, "Fine, fine... it's my fault. I shouldn't have tried to discuss philosophical matters with you." He decided to give up on communication and changed the subject, "Speaking of which, your name is Sam, right? Um... I have a favor to ask, could you... transform into a Firefly for me?"

This time, a rare, extremely subtle, almost stiff fluctuation appeared on Sam's rock-hard face. He remained silent for two seconds before replying in his completely flat voice, "... Your Majesty, I do not understand the 'Fireflies' you speak of. I am a warrior, not a magical creature. If it is about shapeshifting, you yourself should be able to transform into whatever you desire."

"Tsk, boring. What's the point of me changing myself? Even if I create another body, am I just there to admire myself?" Lorenz muttered under his breath, pursing his lips.

Then he said seriously, "To be honest, Sam, I don't want to be a Demon King, nor am I interested in leading the Demons to conquer the world or fight to the death with humans. My current wish is very simple: world peace, so everyone can live peacefully. But is that possible? Obviously not. I'm too lazy to bother. Anyway, I'm Demons now, with no superiors and no one to worry about. So, the best solution is for you to leave me. You'll be free. You don't seem incapable of taking care of yourself; you look very strong. Go find something you enjoy doing. If you can live peacefully and not kill anyone, I'll be even more grateful, Comrade Sam... Oh, by the way, since you're so loyal, can you explain to me where this godforsaken place is? And what's the situation outside?"

Sam seemed somewhat puzzled by the term "comrade," but still respectfully replied, "... This is the northernmost point of the continent, the Ende Region, the location of the Demon King's Castle, Your Majesty."

"Ende Region..." Lorenz stroked his chin. The name felt vaguely familiar, and he tried to search through his jumbled memories. "Ende... sounds like a typical Western fantasy setting... Wait, I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before... Uh, the Buried... Frieren?"

He muttered the last few words to himself in a very low voice, with an incredulous astonishment. If this was the Ende Region, the Demon King's Castle, and he had just been the Demon King... then wasn't this... Frieren's world?

"What did you say, Your Majesty?" Sam noticed the change in Lorenz's expression.

"Nothing..." Lorenz snapped back to reality, his heart pounding uncontrollably. He forced down the turmoil within him and pressed for more information, "Any more clues? What's the current relationship between us Demons and Human race? If we're at war, how far has it progressed?"

He quickly recalled fragments of information from the original story. There weren't many clues about the Demon King from the Demons's side; all that was known was that he was ultimately defeated by the hero Himmel. If the timing was just before the Demon King's defeat, then his role as a hands-off manager was perfectly timed! Although the war continued after the Demon King's death, at least the overall framework was much more peaceful. Besides, now that guy Discal was taking the place, the one who would die would be him instead of him... Thinking about it that way, that guy was practically the perfect scapegoat! He could probably get away with it.

Anyway, I had no ties in my past life, and my family members all sacrificed their lives for the country long ago, so this feeling of "freedom" now... isn't too bad.

He even felt that his mindset had changed somewhat compared to his previous life; less repressed, more... laid-back and easygoing? Was it because becoming Demons had affected his personality due to his physical structure? Or was it because he had become more open-minded after dying once?

"Never mind, it doesn't matter. Anyway, deep down, I'm still me. "Lorenz steadied himself.

Although Sam didn't understand why His Majesty was suddenly interested in these "common sense" matters, he still answered as asked, "Relationship with Human race? In your eyes and those of the previous Demon Kings, Human race are no different from ordinary monsters or pigs and dogs on the roadside, at most their meat is a little more delicious, so they are neither good nor bad."

After becoming the Demon King, Discal declared that his ideal was to 'coexist with humanity,' and based on this, he prepared to launch a large-scale war of conquest. He believed that only by completely conquering humanity could true 'coexistence' be achieved.

According to him, the first target will be the long-lived race among humans— the Elven race. Their lifespan is as long as ours, making them the greatest obstacle and variable on the path to coexistence. Therefore, he has dispatched his subordinates to prioritize the destruction of Elven race near the city of Oysast ...

Lorenz initially listened and nodded, thanking his stubborn subordinate for providing information, but the more he listened, the stiffer his expression became.

"Conquer first to coexist"? What kind of absurd logic is this? Are they treating humans like livestock to be kept in captivity? Is this the kind of thinking humans should have? Oh, wait, it doesn't seem like it's even human. Utterly twisted... Conquer the Elven race first... Elven race... Oysast...

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning, Frozen his blood almost instantly!

"Damn it!" Lorenz sprang to his feet, his expression changing drastically. "This is the exact moment when Frieren's village was destroyed by the Demons!"

"Your Majesty?" Sam was taken aback by Lorenz's violent reaction.

"It's nothing! Sam, thank you for telling me all this!" Lorenz spoke rapidly, grabbing a seemingly ordinary travel cloak from the side and wrapping it around himself. "Listen! Just do as I say, live freely! It's best not to intentionally harm humans anymore, and find something you truly enjoy doing! Thank you for the information! But I have urgent business to attend to and must leave now! I probably won't be coming back to this godforsaken place! Take care of yourself!"

Before he could finish speaking, Lorenz's dark purple magic erupted, and his figure shot into the sky like an arrow, tearing through the eternal gloom of the Ende Region. He sped off towards Oysast, in the southwest direction of the continent, according to this body's memories! The violent magic left a conspicuous trail behind him, revealing the anxiety in his heart.

He frantically extended his magical perception, searching the vast area ahead. Thanks to the Demon King's powerful physique and magical talent, he could clearly sense the surrounding magical fluctuations. He could only hope that Discal's men weren't moving too fast, and that he could still make it... before that tragedy occurred!

"Your Majesty..." Sam looked up at the figure that quickly disappeared into the horizon, his golden vertical pupils still filled with a silent loyalty and bewilderment. He stood silently in place, as if he were part of the black rock beneath his feet, with only the campfire casting flickering light in his eyes.