While Alaric was stirring up trouble in Count Reed’s domain, the diligent Demon Lord Murphy was, as usual, lazing about to his heart's content—simply because there was nothing pressing to do.
In a world where one couldn't just speed things up, both the processing of crystals and the growth of seeds took time. Thus, Murphy's current task was to wait, biding his time until one of the demon factions reported back, so he could set the next phase of his plan in motion.
However, he felt deep down that he ought to be doing something more productive, and after some thought, Murphy remembered his writer’s pseudonym, 'The Humble Hero.' Of course! Why not write when there's nothing else to do?
Murphy intended to write, but not just anything. In fact, he had finished his first book, 'The Return of the Great Knight,' a few days earlier—a cultural tour de force. Despite his eagerness to publish it, this world seemed to lack the technology of printing. But as a person of broad ideas, such obstacles did not deter him.
Combining his magical talents, Murphy eventually concocted a replication spell for books that could duplicate the content. The only drawback was the need for casting materials, requiring him to cast the spell onto a stack of papers to produce copies. Murphy christened this nostalgic magic 'the copier.'
As Murphy was about to sink his teeth into a quill and start his next book, fresh work came knocking at his door. As a leader who could prioritize, Murphy decided to attend to demon business first.
There were two matters at hand. First, the gargoyle had taken Murphy's advice and returned to its ancestral home, the Endless Caverns, to dig around and, lo and behold, stumbled upon interesting finds like iron ore.
The second matter concerned the vampires of Crimson Mountains, who were thrilled that the Demon Lord had kept his promise of a free crucible. The vampires had since moved forward with their potion research and were eager for Murphy's guidance on future research directions.
After reflecting, Murphy penned a personal letter to the vampire lord and, realizing that their literacy might not be up to par, reluctantly resorted to recording his message on a crystal and sending it. He compiled a list of common human ailments and stressed the importance of researching and stockpiling medicines to cure such diseases. Murphy promised to visit Crimson Mountains after dealing with the Endless Caverns.
Teleporting to the Endless Caverns, Murphy found the gargoyle lord waiting. It’s a vast domain, mostly underground, accommodating their nearly three-meter stature. The gargoyles had practical, straightforward names; the gargoyle lord, sturdy and grey-skinned, was aptly named Greyrock.
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At the iron ore excavation site, Greyrock conveyed the gargoyles’ habits. They strengthened themselves by consuming rock during the digging process, and metal properties influenced their growth. If they were to gorge on iron ore, it wouldn't be long before the gargoyle community leveled up.
Murphy suggested keeping half of the mined iron for the gargoyles' consumption and the rest to be smelted into iron for tools and weapons. Greyrock, bashful with his two rows of eyes, admitted their species’ fear of fire—a weakness Murphy found head-shaking for such a formidable looking bunch.
But Murphy wasn't fazed; he believed there is always a lesser demon ready to solve any problem. Since the gargoyles were already doing the hard labor, he decided that the zombies, or rather the undead, would handle the smelting.
After a few teleports, Murphy brought the undead lord, quaintly named Bacon, to discuss division of labor. With some explaining and gesturing, a consensus was reached: the gargoyles would mine and even set up the furnace, while the undead would take care of the rest, transforming all the iron ore into ingots for collection.
"Your Majesty, why not include instructions for making tools and weapons?" the undead seemed eager for more.
This irked Murphy, who thought to himself ‘I wish you wouldn't bring up what I don't know.’
"Well, about that, just refine it into ingots. I’m sure a kind-hearted human blacksmith will help us out in the not-too-distant future."
"Your Majesty is wise."
After placating both lords, Murphy asked Greyrock to explore the vicinity for unknown minerals, like some yellow powdery substance or lightweight white ore.
Then Murphy teleported to Crimson Mountains to meet a relaxed, perhaps too laid-back, group of vampires waiting for him. After a tour, Murphy's stereotypical image of vampires had shattered. He mused that the name ‘vampire’ was indeed very fitting.
They were vampires, not 'human-bloodsuckers'; a bit of other blood here and there to get by wasn't too abnormal, right?
Well, that thought was short-lived. Murphy had never seen such a spineless group of vampires.
Confronted by a horde of bats in the cave, Murphy asked the vampire lord, Patrick, “Is this what you feed on?”
"Your Majesty, to be precise, we drink from these," Patrick corrected politely.
"Right, as long as you get what I mean. But I still find it unbelievable—you actually live off bat blood?"
"That's how we survive. We turn blood-sucking bats into thralls to ensure their loyalty, then send them out to hunt daily. We feast on their blood once they're sated."
"Tough life, eh? I mean for the bats."
"Your Majesty, please rest assured, we never let them overwork. When they can't feed themselves, we turn to our demon kin for blood donations."
Murphy was taken aback: “That’s new. Not all demons have blood, right? Let's see—gargoyles, ghosts, skeletons, undead, Slime, they don't have it, so that just leaves succubi, Goblins, ogres, and werewolves.”
"Yes, these do have blood. Succubi's is the finest, then ogres', and lastly, goblins'."
"What about werewolves?"
"Werewolf blood is poison to us."
"Is that so..." Murphy mused over the strange yet somehow logical aspects of this world.