Great Demon Gate
"Hey… do you think these guys are for real?"
"…I don't know, man. Everything about this is too weird."
"Well, I'll be happy if there's no war, but I still don't want to bring my family back from Vandoria."
"Same. My wife keeps nagging me, saying the Goddess is giving me a chance to run from the demons, and that I'm an idiot for staying."
"Cut the chatter. They'll be here soon," Luxius snapped.
The two soldiers immediately fell silent.
It had been two weeks since the bizarre encounter with the Demon Army. Two full weeks of waiting, watching, and trying not to think too hard about the fact that a Demon Duke had calmly declared peace and then simply… left.
The Army of Humanity remained stationed before the Great Demon Gate. The Demon Army had withdrawn behind it, just as promised—but they hadn't gone far. Their silhouettes were still visible beyond the massive structure, standing, watching, unmoving.
Between the two forces stood a square, modern building.
That alone was wrong.
It had been constructed in a single day—one day—by goblins, orcs, and various demonfolk using strange equipment, loud metal vehicles, and heavy machines that screamed, rattled, and groaned like tortured beasts.
The speed was unsettling.
The precision was worse.
Luxius and his officers had watched the entire process in silence, unable to understand what they were seeing.
Different demon species working together.
No infighting.
No shouting.
No bloodshed.
They had built smooth walls. Clean corners. Even floors.
In one day.
Unsettling didn't begin to cover it.
"They're coming."
The sound arrived first.
It wasn't a roar or a howl. It was as if the air itself was being slapped repeatedly and told to behave.
Something flew toward them.
A Hell Dragonfly—except bigger. Louder. Much angrier.
Bata-bata-bata-bata-bata
The machine descended from the sky, kicking up dust and wind. Luxius raised an arm to shield his face as it landed, the ground trembling beneath his boots.
The doors opened.
From inside stepped Leviathan, followed by a female demonfolk, both escorted by a squad of demon soldiers who moved with irritating discipline.
"Greetings, Crown Prince Luxius," Leviathan said, voice calm, polite, and utterly unbothered by the tension in the air. "We thank you for agreeing to this peace conference. Shall we continue inside?"
"Greetings, Demon Duke Leviathan," Luxius replied stiffly. "Yes, we shall. But before that…"
He gestured toward the machine behind them.
"Do you mind telling me the name of this… flying thing?"
"Ah," Leviathan said pleasantly. "It is a transport vehicle called a helicopter. This particular model is known as the Blackhawk."
"Blackhawk…" Luxius repeated. "The name is as ominous as it looks."
Inside the building, the human delegation found themselves quietly overwhelmed.
Everything felt familiar—and wrong.
The light did not come from crystals or fire, but from glowing orbs and long tubes embedded in the ceiling. Bright, yet somehow gentle on the eyes. The air inside was cool and steady, thanks to a strange box mounted on the wall that blew cold air, even as the wasteland outside baked under the sun.
The tables were wide, but oddly thin. The craftsmanship was flawless—too flawless. No warping. No uneven edges.
And the chairs.
The chairs had wheels.
Luxius stared at one for a long moment.
Why, on Talvaris, would anyone put wheels on a chair? He thinks.
Still… when he sat down and adjusted his position with minimal effort, he hated how comfortable it was.
"Now," Leviathan said, taking his seat, "before we begin the conference, allow me to introduce myself once more."
He folded his hands neatly on the table.
"My name is Leviathan. You may know me as one of the Demon Dukes, but my current formal title is Minister of Foreign Affairs of the United Kingdom of Murica."
"And I am Hannya," the female demonfolk added smoothly, bowing with practiced grace. "Diplomat of Murica's Foreign Affairs Office."
Luxius cleared his throat, straightening his posture.
"I am Luxius, Crown Prince of the Ravendawn Kingdom, here representing my father, King Luxtor. This is my delegation."
He gestured to each of them in turn.
"Gregor, Archmage of Ravendawn.
Antonio, Archbishop of the Church of Celes.
Duke Pierre, Governor of the Dawn Province of Vandoria."
Leviathan and Hannya followed the introductions politely—until their eyes landed on Archbishop Antonio.
For just a fraction of a second, their gazes sharpened. Focused. Almost… hungry-like.
Antonio felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Then, just as quickly, both demons blinked, composed themselves, and returned to perfect diplomatic posture, as if nothing inappropriate had occurred.
"Once again," Leviathan said smoothly, "we thank you for agreeing to this meeting. As previously stated, the United Kingdom of Murica seeks peace. We understand this proposal may be… difficult to accept, given the nature of our past relationship."
"You call eating our people a relationship?" Archbishop Antonio snapped.
Leviathan tilted his head. "Is it not?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "No?"
The silence that followed was thick.
Hannya stepped forward before Antonio could explode. "We believe it would be more productive if you were shown what has changed," she said. "For that purpose, we have prepared a video—an instrument that displays recorded moving images."
She pressed a button on a small device.
The room immediately darkened.
The human delegation tensed as one. Hands drifted toward staffs, symbols, and weapons. A large black panel on the wall flickered to life.
"Oh my…" Gregor whispered. "What a strange-looking crystal."
The screen burst into motion.
Storm clouds churned violently across the sky. Volcanoes erupted. Rivers of lava cut through barren land. The landscape was hostile, unforgiving.
A calm, eerily David Attenborough-like narrator's voice filled the room.
"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lay the Demon Kingdom. A realm where nature is merciless. One could say it is the harshest place to live on the planet."
The footage shifted rapidly—carnivorous plants snapping shut, massive demonic beasts tearing through stone, volcanic eruptions swallowing entire regions.
"Within this brutal land existed more than six hundred races, thirteen hundred tribes, and countless local tongues. For a thousand years, tribal warfare plagued the kingdom. It was a terrible era to live in…"
Leviathan's eyes glistened as the scenes played. He raised a hand to his face, blinking rapidly.
Hannya immediately produced a handkerchief and offered it to him without comment.
"The only moment the fighting ceased," the narration continued, "was during the Great Escape—what humans now refer to as the Demon Invasion. Guided by instinct, the demon population surged northward, inevitably clashing with their non-demon neighbors."
The human delegates stiffened in their seats.
"But one hundred and thirty years ago…"
The screen faded briefly to black.
"…the Great Escape did not occur."
The narration resumed.
"In the confusion, the Demon King Lucifer encountered an orc named Solomon. A simple orc… with an idea no demon had ever dared to imagine."
The image shifted to a crude illustration of an orc standing before a demon king.
"A unified, peaceful nation."
The room erupted in gasps.
Lucifer's image changed—no longer roaring, but listening.
"Lucifer embraced the vision. A common language was created. Tribal conflicts collapsed. Commerce flourished. Science and technology spread. Cities rose. Education and welfare became national priorities."
Numbers appeared on the screen.
"Today, literacy stands at 98.2%."
Gregor choked audibly. "Y-you mean… every demon? Even goblins and orcs… can read and write?"
"Naturally," Hannya replied, voice even. "In Murica, the pursuit of scholarly achievement is encouraged for all citizens. Orc people and goblin people included."
Duke Pierre shot up from his chair.
"S-scholar!?" he shouted. "Are you telling me your goblins are smarter than my son!?"
Hannya tilted her head slightly. "We do not have data regarding your son," she said calmly. "However, in Murica it is quite common to see goblins holding professions such as doctor, judge, or other intellectual occupations."
Duke Pierre looked like he might faint.
"Duke Pierre, sit down," Archbishop Antonio barked. "I wish to hear the rest."
Hannya pressed the remote again, and the video resumed.
The hellscape dissolved into motion—villages expanding into towns, towns into cities. Stone gave way to steel. Wooden carts were replaced by trucks. Roads stretched endlessly. Skyscrapers pierced the sky. Highways crisscrossed the land. Airplanes roared overhead.
The pace was dizzying.
"And seventy years ago," the narrator continued, "the Demon Kingdom formally transitioned into a democratic nation: the United Demon Kingdom of Murica. With a new purpose and a new identity, the democratic demon nation now seeks peaceful coexistence with the rest of the Talvarians."
The screen faded to black.
Then—
BLAST.
Triumphant Star Wars orchestral music exploded from the speakers.
The humans nearly jumped out of their seats.
Text scrolled upward.
Written and Directed by Belphegor
Leviathan made a strangled sound and lunged for the remote, slamming the power button.
The music died mid-note.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed in his whisper. "This is a diplomatic video!"
Hannya calmly adjusted her glasses. "Sir Belphegor stated that this was the first time his work would be viewed by a non-demon audience," she said. "He refused to let it go unnoticed."
"…Damn sloth," Leviathan muttered.
The lights came back on.
The human delegation sat frozen, as if they were still waiting for something else to explode.
"Now," Leviathan said, straightening himself and returning to a professional tone, "as the video has explained, we wish to establish peaceful and friendly relations with all Talvarians."
He paused.
"And yes—this time without the man-eating relationship," he added jokingly.