"Now let us continue the experiment!" Lich declares, voice echoing through the testing field.
"There's more?" Lilith groaned.
"Yes! I still have several theories left to verify." Lich replied cheerfully as he pressed another button.
With a heavy clunk, yet another hidden hatch opened in the field. A confused Vandorian prisoner was lifted to the surface like a game-show contestant who had made a terrible life choice.
Stan's eyebrow twitches. "Exactly how many holes have you dug in my base?"
"Oh, just enough." Lich answered proudly.
"I'm charging you for this."
"Of course, of course. Just send the bill to Bub. You know my department is under his ministry."
The prisoner stares around in confusion—the same expression as the last two. Scared, bewildered, and clearly starting to regret being taken prisoner.
"Alright, John Doe no. 3 is in position," Lich announced. "Now then, Stan, if you please."
"Ugh… Do I really have to?" Stan muttered.
"Of course! This is for science!"
"…Just make it fast."
With the enthusiasm of a bored office worker clocking into overtime, Stan trudged across the field toward John Doe no. 3. The prisoner trembled as the demon approached, while Lich, Lilith, and Solo watched from the monitoring room.
"Alright, the virus count has already doubled," Lich said, checking the polygraph readings. He lifted his microphone.
"EHM. HELLO, VANDORIAN. RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, AS YOU CAN SEE, IS JUST AN OLD MUSCLEHEAD DEMON—
"HEY!!" Stan barked.
"BUT HE IS NOT ANY DEMON! HE IS ONE OF THE DEMON DUKES! THE ONE YOU HUMANS CALL THE DEMON GOD OF WAR—SATAN! NOW THEN, STAN, IF YOU WOULD."
"Sigh…" Stan mutters.
The prisoner stared blankly, having no idea what was happening. Meanwhile, Stan's body began trembling. His muscles bulged. His clothes tore. And in a matter of seconds he grew into a towering, two-story-tall red demon with a goat's head and a humanoid body with glowing crimson eyes.
"Sigh…" giant Stan repeats.
"NOW, NOW. DO IT PROPERLY, STAN. SHOW HIM HOW A TRUE DEMON DUKE ACTS."
Stan lifted his giant hand…
…and flipped Lich the biggest middle finger in demon history.
Then he inhaled.
"RROOOOOOOAAAAAARRR!"
His war cry blasted over John Doe no. 3, nearly blowing the poor man off his feet. The prisoner collapsed to his knees, pants already soaked.
"P-please… spare me…"
Stan doesn't. He inhales again and unleashes a torrent of fire straight onto the terrified Vandorian.
"KYAAAAAAAA-!"
John Doe no. 3 is reduced to a screaming fireball. Stan turns away with a scoff, shrinks back down to normal size, and accepts a cloak from a prepared officer.
"Done. So how'd it go?" he asked.
Solo and Lilith looked horrified.
Lich looked ecstatic.
"HAHAHAHA! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! The virus output increased even more than last time!"
"What!?" Solo and Lilith shouted together.
"Now then—on to the next experiment!"
"What? There's more?" Stan groans.
---
Batabatabatabatabata-
An Apache helicopter hovers in front of John Doe no. 4. The prisoner drops his jaw, then his bladder.
Whooosh-BOOOOM!
The Apache fired a Hydra rocket, instantly turning him into a red confetti.
"Oooh, marvelous! MARVELOUS! The multiplication rate is also incredible!" Lich cheered, clapping his bony hands.
"Next up, an F-16—"
"LICH! ENOUGH!" Lilith finally snaps.
JBAB, Coffeeshop
A short while later, the four of them sat around a table inside the base's coffee shop. The logo—Medusa's head on a green background—somehow felt legally distinct enough from something else.
Lich sipped his iced caramel macchiato. "What a waste. I still have so many John Does left."
"Oh, shut up and read the report." Lilith mutters into her jasmine tea.
"Alright, alright." Lich shuffled through a stack of polygraph sheets. "Hmm… mhm… interesting… Yes, yes, got it! Here are the conclusions."
The other three leaned forward.
"As we know, when humans face other humans, the virus is stable. Almost no reaction."
"Okay… and?" Solo asks.
"But when facing a demon? Fear increases—viruses multiply twofold."
"Mhm…"
"But! When they face something they perceive as a bigger demonic entity—such as the Apache—the fear increases, and the virus triples!"
Stan grimaced. "I don't like where this is going…"
"Aaaand when they face a historically iconic demon—like a Demon Duke—the virus jumps fivefold! Congratulations, Stan!"
Lilith rubs her temples. "Stan… we may need to reconsider sending you into battle."
Stan takes out a bottle of whiskey and pours it into his espresso. He downs the drink like a shot.
"And the absolute peak—" Lich continues with a flourish, "—is pain. When they are being burned alive, experiencing extreme agony—the multiplication jumps sevenfold!"
SLAM!
Solo's fist smashed the table, shaking the entire café. His cappuccino splattered everywhere. The entire shop went silent.
"That bitch goddess…" Solo growls. "She played us. We've been giving her exactly what she wanted."
Solo's voice trembled—anger, disappointment, exhaustion all mixed together.
No one at the table dared to speak.
The Goddess Realm
"OOOHOHOHOHO!"
The Goddess Realm glittered wildly, overflowing with divine power. The divine CEO lounged on her throne, laughing like a villainess from a shojo manga while an angel poured wine into her crystal glass.
"Ohhh, this energy! It keeps coming! My skin is smoother, my breasts firmer-my ass tighter! Mmm, divine elasticity! OOOHOHOHOHO!"
Seraph, her secretary, approached and bowed. "Goddess, the comparison with previous millennia is complete."
"Well? How big is the difference?"
"With the same casualty count as last millennium… this battle generated five times more divine energy."
"AAAHAHAHAHA! WONDERFUL! That pig actually helped me! Oooh, this is delicious!"
"But I believe the demons have already realized the implications."
"No matter. Even if they refuse war," Celes smirked. "We will ensure the others bring war to them. None can defy the Goddess's will."
She waved her hand. A golden-framed mirror appeared, showing the hero Sora leveling up with his party.
"And once I've harvested enough divine energy, my sweet hero will be strong enough to defeat the demons and kill that piggy, restoring everything to normal! AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Ravendawn, Dawn Province
Wyvern, is a dragon family that conquers the sky. With a jet-black body as big as a two-story house and a wingspan more than 20 feet, it is the apex predator on some continents.
Wyvern, is a reason for many flying creatures to turn around and flee, a reason for dangerous land predators to hide.
Wyvern, is a proud beast that only listens to humans that can earn their respect, knowing the human will lead them to the battlefield, where their next prey is waiting.
WHOOOOOOOSH
Wyvern, is hiding its head under the bushes, covering its face with its majestic wing. Waiting until the passing F-16s disappear.
"Oh come on, Rognar! It's the third time today," his rider complained, trying to pull him out of the shrubbery.
"Whiiimper…" the wyvern replies.
For Rognar, seeing his Vandorian brethren being pulverized by those strange flying creatures is giving him PTSD, which he didn't know he could have as a wyvern.
The jets are part of the Murica-Ravendawn joint patrol, guarding the new base under construction. The Murican pilots always wonder why they never seen their Ravendawn counterpart.
It had been two months since Vandoria was kicked out of Dawn. The city had already recovered—trade returning, slavery abolished, and business booming.
Sometimes Murican workers and civilians can be seen passing through the street. At first, the Dawn people are scared when seeing the demons. It took some time, but now they can accept the demon's presence in their city.
Demons walking the street had become a normal sight, especially once people realized demons brought money, so fuck all those fairy tales about evil demons. They are all adults now—and being broke as hell—it was more scary.
But recently, Dawn had a different kind of demon strolling around.
An orc.
An orc in floral Hawaiian shirts, sandals, and sunglasses.
An orc who smells like a distillery.
An orc who laughed at the air while poking unseen screens.
No one complained—partially because he paid his bills, and partially because scary demons secretly followed him around, giving birth to the rumor:
"He was a dangerous criminal exiled from Murica but kept under surveillance."
"HEY ORKIE! SEE YOU TONIGHT!" a dog beastman shouted.
"YEAH! SEE YA, FIDO-DIDO-WHATEVER!" Solo yelled back, tipsy.
He headed to the beach, laid out his picnic blanket, and turned on Modern Family via his skill.
"AAHAHAHA! OH PHIL, YOU IDIOT!"
He sipped ale, staring at ghostly Earth UI only he could see.
The downside of his skill: his internet is frozen on the day he was isekai'd. No new episodes.
130 years is enough to watch everything—American Hollywood, India's Bollywood, Pakistani Lollywood… even Afghanistan's propaganda film industry, Bombywood.
But Modern Family and Friends were always home.
"Ahem."
Solo glanced to the side.
Bare feet on the sand. Perfectly manicured. Woman's feet.
He looked up.
"Aren't you Levi's assistant? Hannya, was it?"
"That is correct, sir," Hannya said politely.
"What are you doing here? Hahaha. Come sit. Watch movies with me."
"I can't see anything from your skill, sir."
"Ah, right… So? What's up?"
"You, sir. You are required back in Bashington."
"What? I'm on vacation. Tell them I have stomach problems. Or foot problems. Or mental problems. Leave me alone."
Four weeks ago, Lich's revelation had shattered Solo.
Everything he built
130 years of unifying demons…
130 years of developing technology …
130 years of forging a functioning nation…
Had all made the goddess's harvest more delicious.
Defeated, he fled to Dawn for a "two-week vacation."
Four weeks had passed.
Now he enjoys slow living in an isekai world.
He enjoys being "Orkie," not a leader drowning in paperwork.
Dawn City, Solo Favorite Tavern
Inside an RPG-style tavern with wooden tables for the customers, the tavern was quiet with only the tavern owner and Solo and Hannya as customers.
Solo is enjoying his dinner of fantasy meat and a big mug of ale while Hannya sips water in graceful silence.
"You sure you don't want some? It's great."
"No, thank you."
"Place is usually packed… wonder where everyone is. Maybe they'll show up later."
"Maybe, sir. Do your drinking friends know you're the Murican leader?"
"Of course not. That ruins the vibe."
"MASTER! MORE ALE!" Solo shouts.
The owner nervously delivers a mug.
"Uhh… here, sir. I hope you like it." He fled back to the kitchen.
"Strange… He's never called me 'sir' before. He usually just calls me Orkie…"
Solo narrows his eyes at Hannya.
"So why are you still here? Shouldn't you be back at your post?"
"I am at my post. I'm the new Murican Ambassador to Ravendawn."
"Really? When?"
"Three days ago. Madam Lilith swore me in since you were absent."
"Oooh… congrats."
"Thank you, sir."
"But still, you haven't answered my first question." Solo sips his ale. "Why are you still here with me? You don't even try to persuade me or lecture me to go back."
"Why should I?" she replies calmly. "When there's someone more capable than me."
"…?"
Something felt off.
The empty streets.
The empty tavern.
Nervous owner.
"Wait… no… NO… Don't tell me…" Solo's eyes widened.
"Is this—the homewreck protocol!?"
BOOOOOOOOM!
The tavern entrance explodes. Half the building collapses. Dust fills the air.
"Cough—Hannya!? You okay!?" Solo chokes on smoke. "Hannya!?"
No response.
Flap… flap… flap… flap…
A slow, ominous rhythm of wings.
"Alex… Solomon…"
A soft yet terrifying demonic voice drifted from the ruined entrance.
Solo looked up.
Through the dust, a figure descends—red wings unfurled, eyes glowing like burning rubies, framed by the full moon.
Elegant.
Terrifying.
Solo goes pale. It's the deadliest creature in the Demon Kingdom. An apex demon.
His wife.