Hmm, not bad, I really like this name.
“Murphy”~
Henry thinks the meaning of the name Murphy is awesome, and decides not to use his real name unless necessary, opting instead for this cool name."
Thus, the newly-ordained Demon King, Mr. Murphy Ferrers, pondered these thoughts while striding into the alternate world portal opened by Anna. Amidst a blast of brilliant light, he precisely landed on the throne within the grand hall of the Demon realm's royal palace, before proceeding to examine his freshly acquired panel.
Soon, amid a sea of '9', '0', 'Max' and 'exempt' numeric figures, Murphy started losing himself.
Immersed in the panel's data, reveling in the soft sensation beneath him, Murphy couldn’t help but remark, "Is this what being the Demon King feels like? The throne sure feels great!”
The very next moment, Murphy suddenly sprang to his feet, spinning around to roar, "Who or what dares touch my posterior?"
A color-changing slime, which had been squished flat on the dilapidated throne, was quaking as it gradually re-gathered itself, extending its viscous tentacles into every crevice for scrupulous cleaning.
To Murphy's surprise, it appeared to be a janitor, indicative of decent sanitation standards in the alternate world.
But hey, why is this throne so ragged?
Murphy frowned upon realizing that something was amiss.
Under his Demon King-level senses, a vague moldy smell was acutely pronounced.
Surveying his surroundings, Murphy noticed that the environment was slightly different from what he had expected. Given his years of experience reading pulp-fiction, he assumed the Demon King's castle should either be grand and resplendent, eerily ominous to the point of otherworldly, or a hedonistic paradise swarming with succubi, but certainly not desolate and dilapidated.
However, the current situation was lamentably different. The intended dazzling chandelier was awash with rust, all the windows were either empty or shattered, large marble columns that pierced through the hall were lined with fissures, and dust blanketed every spot outside the throne.
Adding insult to injury was the crude, outdated, and peculiarly long table placed startlingly in the middle of the spacious hall, above an intricate pattern of carpets stretching from the throne to the palace entrance. This uncouth contraption made the entire endangered palace appear more like a building violating regulatory norms.
Ah, and the ten creatures...
No, ten monsters encircling that table, of all varieties, from slime to vampire.
Steeling himself under dozens of dead-staring eyes, Murphy found it altogether uncomfortable, especially that gargoyle with more than the usual number of eyes.
It seemed like these monsters of diverse forms were holding a meeting. Although Murphy was keen to join the discussion, as the new Demon King, he deemed it wise to first display his table-flipping strength, letting them discern who the boss... no, the real big shot was. After all, adhering to "conventions" of time-travel wouldn't be so wrong.
Meanwhile, Murphy pondered the difference between his current state and a successfully intimidating Demon King, soon finding the answer: the only thing missing was a provocative scapegoat.
As the palace bathed in silence, a prolonged eye-lock with the ten monsters gave Murphy a dry eye, and he decided to make the first move.
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Adopting a gaze teeming with pity and disdain, he looked down on his subjects. Generally, for the power-admiring Demon race, this gesture was a sound demonstration of mockery and provocation.
A moment later, a hulky ogre took the bait: "Where did this human come from, daring to tarnish the honorable king's throne?"
Hmm? Is this local minion too polite? Not even charging to fight after such a taunt, such a degeneration of morals.
Having seen his intimidation plan die at the first step, Murphy was left with no choice but to adopt a conciliatory approach.
He shifted tactics, greeting with a smile, "Hello everyone, I am the newly ordained Demon King. The heavens have acknowledged the last king's demise and decided that I should inherit the throne. Rest assured, we will work together. As the saying goes, 'The creation is only half done, but...'".
"But you look entirely human, don't you?" In the stead of all the creatures present, the gargoyle put into words the looming question of the moment.
Long before the ogre, well-versed in the manners of civil society, posed his question, Murphy had already foreseen this potential issue. As the Demon King, he should indeed bear some distinguishable demonic attributes, like devil horns or perhaps a tail and wings.
In truth, all these could be acquired through certain skills, but a Demon King sprouting horns was an unsettling sight for all those present.
Hence, Murphy opted for the simplest and most effective measure he could - he activated [Pride], and an aura belonging solely to an Original Sin Talent permeated out, leaving no room for his identity as an outsider to be questioned anymore. Each of the ten demon creatures fell to their knees in obeisance, the skeleton making a loud clacking noise with its bony carapace, and the giant slime got pressed into a puddle.
Each demon fell on their knees in a perfectly synchronized move, as if they have been rehearsing for decades, "All hail the Demon King, resuming dominion over the demon race after forty long years!"
"Ah, all rise. Together with all of you, I will... What, how many years did you say?"
"Forty years!" The unwavering, collective response of the demon race.
"What year is it now?" Murphy sensed the stakes escalating.
"The year 882 in the Era of Pioneer!" The demons echoed in unison.
Murphy turned to stone, having flashbacks to a crash course on the recent history of the alternate world, given by Anna.
"In the 792nd year of the Era of Pioneer of this world, the Demon King and Hero had signed the holy centennial peace agreement.
In the year 842, the predecessor Demon King, feeling that their end was near due to the aggravation of their old wounds, exhausted their last breath to send a message to the heavens to request the appointment of a new Demon King."
"So it was the year 842 when I descended?"
"Hmm, probably not. The angel who trained me confessed that the call for help had been pushed to the bottom of the pile by the minister and was only recently discovered and handed to me, an intern. Given that time flows differently in heaven and the mortal realm, I estimate a delay of about four or five years. It shouldn't have much impact, off you go! I have my eyes on you ~" Anna's last words.
"So, the peace agreement will end in ten years?"
"Just so, your majesty."
"The... I mean, the previous King, has been gone for forty years?"
"Yes, your majesty." As the monsters' lords uttered these words, their voices carried the unmistakable tinge of sorrow as they seemed to reminisce about their previous Demon King.
"Damn that minister in the Department of Otherworldly Transfer, he deserved to die!" Murphy clenched his teeth in frustration, constantly cursing under his breath. "Forty whole years! Why not wait for the hero to storm the city gates before sending me over? In about ten years, the hero of this world would have claimed the double-kill achievement. Even if you're feeding them your victory, you wouldn't do it like this!"
At this moment, Murphy wanted just to snap at the minister of the Otherworldly Transfer Department. No wonder nobody was willing to come to this world. When even their deaths were being arranged, it felt like reincarnating into a sacrificial animal scheduled to be killed on New Year's Eve, where their reincarnation was set on the eve of it.
As he looked at the demon lords beneath his throne wearing expressions that indicated they wouldn't mind dying at any moment, Murphy's heart sank even further.
As per the established norms in most alternate worlds, they stood no chance in front of the growing hero; these smaller bosses and normal monsters were indistinguishable.
Among them, those with a lower rank existed solely to act as hurdles for the hero before he grew in power, providing him with experience and equipment. The stronger among them, during the final battle, were responsible for holding off other members of the hero's group. Only the Demon King himself ever got to confront the hero directly.
Now, a Demon King seemed to be marked on the achievement list of the hero, but the lords in front of him were still alive and well, none of them looking bothered that their doom hung over them, aware of where their strength stood.
To expect these demons to sacrifice themselves to protect their king seemed viable. The only problem was, whether they lived or died, it probably wouldn't matter much.