Reborn to Devour: A Demonic LitRPG

[Yoshitsune]

I left Ishmael-san behind in that bizarre restaurant. After only a few steps, I stopped. But, he didn’t come out to stop me. I wasn’t sure if I had actually wanted him to. He had said the right things, but they had felt hollow in some way that I could not properly explain. I felt trusted, but, at the same time, I did not feel needed. If he had said…

I shook my head. There was no perfect response in this situation. I was glad that my feelings were considered at all, something that the men of my era did less than they should.

Walking away was the best course of action. With hustling steps that would allow me no time to reconsider, I left the street behind and proceeded down the route laid out for me in my previous meeting with the fellow who went by the name Sir Lucan. It was imprinted into my mind like the migration routes of the shorebirds, leading me forwards as though I was pulled by an invisible string.

The path took me through the center of the city and into a cluster of bodies that would only be seen in war-camps or Kyoto. Their auras suffocated me; stacked on each other to confuse my senses and leave me light-headed.

I could feel some of them watching me; a mixture of aggression and lechery. It was not something I was unaccustomed to. Every warrior wants honor and will feel unconsciously jealous of the ones that have already earned it. Every suitor my father introduced me to viewed me the same as an art piece they could have a child with.

“Hey there, beautif-“

An exploratory hand seeking to learn more about me snaked through the crowd towards me. I stepped into my [1000 Bleeding Eyes] and slipped further down the road. A few murmurs of frustration and ire were sent my way by those inconvenienced by my sudden appearance. Frustration that was far favorable to whatever waited me in the grasp of that hand.

Deciding that I could not take a casual pace, I slipped through the crowded streets as quickly as I could. I weaved between bodies at a sprint, ducking beneath the large and leaping over the tall. Whenever it grew too crowded, I would summon my ability and continue on the other side.

Eventually, I managed to reach the building that I sought. One of the more modestly sized buildings that stretched towards the heavens, the doors opened automatically when I got close enough. A thin membrane of mana stretched around me, investigating every single piece of my person. After a couple seconds, I felt the mana push me through to the other side as the doors clacked closed behind me.

An enamel-coated flooring met my boots and an odor of artificial freshness met my nose. Fake wind rumbled out of several openings along the walls and gave my body a welcome chill.

I walked up towards a long desk with a demon sitting behind it. An aura of annoyance surrounded them. Their attention wasn’t on me at all. Instead, whatever invisible messages appeared in their mind seemed to be the source of their ire.

“Greetings,” I said with a bow.

“What do you want?” The demon replied gruffly.

My understanding of their situation did not seem to change the fact that they lashed out at me. The fingers attached to my body fluttered in indignation as if to ask why I wasn’t treating this demon the same way that I treated them.

“I’m a guest,” I murmured to the hands, intentionally loud enough so that the demon may hear and feel a little bit of shame.

“What are you whispering for? The demon demanded.

It seemed that they did not come from a culture that understood the art of respect. I shouldn’t be so surprised that, even in a place that appears so civilized, it was built by the hands of barbarians and criminals. To expect courtesy was akin to attempting to hold sake in a cup with a large hole in the bottom.

“I am here at the behest of Sir Lucan-san to meet with Sir Galahad-san to discuss my joining of their ranks.”

The demon did not respond to me. I heard them lift a metal apparatus and hold it up to their mouth.

“Sir, there is someone here to meet you,” the demon said into the apparatus.

Metal pipes behind the demon rattled as the words traveled through the apparatus and up the wall. A loud buzzing sound followed it up into the ceiling before disappearing entirely.

I stood awkwardly on the floor for a moment. I wasn’t sure if there was anything that I should be doing and I had no interest in talking to the irritable demon across from me. Instead, I closed my mind and thought over the new skill that I obtained from Sir Lucan on behalf of the Chivalrous Demon.

[Form of True Steel].

Less than a single attack, it was a passive that seemed to teach me an entire form of fighting in a single moment. Each slash and stab, every step and stance, and the appropriate use cases appeared in my mind with only a simple command.

Each strike was direct. This form possessed no feints; only attacks at their strongest and sharpest. Every attack was intended to kill or maim. With my rapid movements that my lightning affinity provided, the deadliness of the combination only increased.

The only trouble is that I have yet to have the opportunity to use it. Until I put steel to flesh, it was all conjecture. Every arrow strikes true when it is described in words. These visions could be unreliable, conjured up specifically to entice me. This is why I needed to meet with Sir Galahad, the representative that would gain me an audience with the Chivalrous Demon.

“Lady Yoshitsune,” I heard a voice call out to me from a stairwell to my left.

“Ah, Sir Galahad-san,” I greeted with a small bow.

“Sir Galahad is fine,” the warrior reassured. “Please, follow me. Sir Lucan has had the opportunity to tell me a bit about you. I’m hoping that you will serve to fill the gaps.”

I hustled to follow Sir Galahad up the stairwell. The laminated surface disappeared and was replaced by perfectly smooth stones. Sir Galahad’s steel armor made heavy steps against the stairs that echoed sharp sounds throughout the staircase. My heightened senses tortured me with the disharmonious tune that came from the walking.

“What has Sir Lucan told you about me?” I asked curiously, using words to drown out the unpleasant noise.

“That you had a good aura around you and that you were worthy of the gift he was required to provide you,” Sir Galahad replied. “He also mentioned that you were impressive on the Hell Express. You did something bizarre during the King of the Hill game. You died for a bunch of strangers.”

It was that time then. I hadn’t much thought of that moment after it had happened. I had already gotten my friend killed and decided to take responsibility for it. Any other samurai would have killed themselves over lesser dishonor. The fact that the survivors failed said more about them than it did about me.

“What did you think of it?” I inquired.

“I found it highly foolish,” Sir Galahad answered plainly. The admonishment surprised me a little in contrast with the praise. “I watched it myself just a little before your arrival. To die for a bunch of strangers that demanded your head because they were incapable is not something that I ever would have done myself.”

“I see.”

“But, the fact that you decided to do so at all showed great promise. I have been reviewing your achievements since your name appeared on my desk. You have sacrificed yourself for your friends before that time. You allowed yourself to be killed to defeat an untamed boss. You allowed yourself to be stabbed to spare one of your comrades. You showed mercy to the enemies that did not deserve such a kindness.”

“Thank you for the kind words,” I said with a bow.

“I am not the only one that has thought you worthy of the praise. Though I have only been watching you for a short time, I am told that the Chivalrous Demon has had his eyes on you ever since you were pulled from that tar pit. We have both seen enough so that you may earn an audience with him. Whatever tests he provided you, you have been passing surely. Otherwise you would not have been given such a boon.”

I nodded in response and Sir Galahad turned his focus back to the climb. I wondered why I had never heard from this Chivalrous Demon if he had been watching me for such a long time. Not even a message of encouragement during the competition at the back of the train. But, I suppose it was actually his reward and not Smile’s that I earned upon my victory.

We climbed quietly for another few minutes until we reached the highest point on the stairs. Sir Galahad opened the heavy doors and led me into a large chamber. A set of curtains obscured a strange aura that rested underneath it.

There were not many other demons in such a large room. They appeared to be attendants that were tending to the upkeep of such an illustrious room. I could not see the trappings that adorned the walls, but I could smell the fragrant oils that wafted throughout the space and feel the soft carpets under my boots.

“We are here for a private audience,” Sir Galahad announced.

Dutifully, any demons present within the chamber ceased what they were doing, bowed, and left the chamber over the course of the next few moments. The doors closed behind them, leaving just Sir Galahad and me.

“Sir Galahad, will the Chivalrous Demon be joining us soon?” I asked.

“He will be here very shortly,” the demon reassured.

Sir Galahad moved towards the curtains and pulled them away to reveal what rested underneath. I felt my own aura dwelling within it. A mirror about twice the size of myself dominated the far wall.

My and Sir Galahad’s aura disappeared from the reflection. I could feel the mana in the room coalescing around the mirror like a storm forming over the sea. It was threatening in the same way that nature was; the same way that a beetle fears a person. Mercurial and uncaring towards the beings below them. A large wave or aggressive squall could remove all traces of a village even existing.

That feeling persisted even after the mana returned to passivity. The aura of whatever sat on the other side seeped through and polluted the room with power.

A set of stairs descended from the mirror and slammed authoritatively against the floor, commanding me to ascend the steps.

“The Chivalrous Demon wishes to meet with you personally,” Sir Galahad explained. “It is a great honor to be in their presence personally.”

“Can the Chivalrous Demon not leave that realm themselves?”

“Certainly not,” Sir Galahad said with a chuckle. “The Chivalrous Demon sits at a realm far higher than our own. He is incapable of descending to reach us. His sheer power alone would be too much for the Third Rung. You will be meeting a projection of his might tuned to a degree that you can manage.”

“Will you be joining me?”

“A private audience is a private audience,” Sir Galahad answered plainly. “Not even I am allowed to be part of a conversation if I am not explicitly invited.”

I stood in place for a moment, unable to move even if I wanted to. The sheer force that awaited on the other side dissuaded me from proceeding. Sir Lucan did not mention that a meeting would require being in the presence of a near godlike entity.

“I see that you hesitate,” Sir Galahad stated, with no offense or other emotion within his voice. “I understand that it is a daunting proposition for someone of your level. But, I must ask you, what inspired you to take the invitation in the first place?”

“Their swordsmanship felt trustworthy,” I replied.

“Then continue to trust that swordsmanship,” Sir Galahad challenged. “There is no demon in the entirety of this place that is of a stronger moral fiber than this one. No harm will befall you in this audience. Even if you intentionally offend him, he would not raise a hand or voice to harm you. This I swear.”

I bit my lip. There was no doubt that Vendetta and Capitaine and Ishmael-san were meeting with entities at least this strong. If I truly did want to progress, if I wanted to progress according to my own values, then I would need to do at least this much to earn that right.

“I’ll do it.”

“Please do not fear,” Sir Galahad said with a bow, stepping away from the mirror.

I ascended the steps and passed through the surface of the mirror. Mana rippled at my touch and surrounded me like water. The aura disappeared and only tranquility existed.

Steps waited on the other side of the mirror, allowing me to descend onto the carpet. This new space felt identical to the space that I had just left. The same acoustics, the same odors. The only difference was the aura that suffocated the room and the throne that sat at the opposite end of the room.

Instinctively, I dropped to my knees and prostrated myself before the demon in the throne. However, I could feel the aura bid me to stand back up.

A demon sat in the throne; his aura so powerful that I could clearly see him within my head. A humanoid dragon, taller than Ishmael-san by a great deal, with scales that shimmered the color of gold. I could hear the jewelry on their body clang against his armor. A sword taller than myself sat at his side, the feeling of bloody warfare seeped from it. There was no way to tell just how many had died to its edge.

Yet, at the same time, they maintained the feeling of nobility. That, somehow, they managed to remain clean spiritually despite the violence they participated in.

“How?” The words slipped from my mouth inadvertently. “Apologies! I greet the Chivalrous Demon.”

“Greetings, Yoshitsune,” the Chivalrous Demon said in a tone that felt kind and magnetic. “I see that your sense of people is stronger than I expected. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Arthur, the Chivalrous Demon and I come from Heaven.”