I Reincarnated As The Lazy Demon King's Butler

The wind carried the scent of pine and damp earth as Elias stepped into the clearing.

The night sky stretched wide above him, broken only by the towering silhouettes of trees. This far from Nocturne, the air was crisp, untouched by the scent of burning torches or bloodied battlefields. The calm before the storm.

Ahead, a lone figure stood by a worn stone altar—Alexander Vael.

The Hero.

Elias took his time approaching, his boots crunching softly against the damp ground. No guards. No weapons drawn. Just two men, meeting under the stars, knowing that soon, they would try to tear each other's worlds apart.

The closer Elias got, the more he took in the man before him.

Alexander was younger than he had expected. Mid-twenties, perhaps, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a quiet confidence that spoke of experience beyond his years. His armor was polished but practical, without unnecessary embellishments. A longsword rested at his hip, its hilt worn from use, but his posture showed no eagerness for violence.

This was not a reckless fool blinded by heroism.

This was a tactician. A thinker.

And Elias knew, in that moment—he could not take this man lightly.

Two Kings Without Thrones

Alexander was the first to speak.

"I didn't think you'd accept my invitation."

Elias smirked, stopping a few paces away. "I was curious."

The Hero nodded, studying him. "Curious about what?"

Elias's golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "What kind of man I'm about to go to war with."

Alexander smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I suppose I had the same thought."

For a moment, neither spoke.

The wind whispered through the trees, and a wolf howled in the far distance.

Then—

Alexander gestured toward a small wooden table beside the altar. Two chairs. A bottle of aged wine.

"A civilized discussion before war?" Alexander asked.

Elias chuckled. "It would be rude to refuse."

They both sat.

Two men on opposite sides of a game neither had yet to truly begin.

A War of Words

Alexander poured the wine, taking his time, as if they were old friends sharing a drink instead of rivals preparing to destroy each other.

"You intrigue me, Lord Voss," he said, handing Elias a glass.

Elias took it without hesitation. "Likewise, Sir Vael."

A faint smile. "So you know my name."

Elias took a slow sip. "It's my job to know."

Alexander leaned back. "Then you must also know that this war is inevitable."

Elias exhaled softly, tilting his head. "Is it?"

The Hero's smile didn't falter. "You think it isn't?"

Elias set his glass down. "I think you don't want it to be."

A flicker of something crossed Alexander's face—just for a second. Then it was gone.

"You assume a lot," Alexander mused.

Elias watched him closely. "I assume nothing. I observe."

He leaned forward slightly. "You're too careful. Too methodical. Most heroes would have stormed my gates already, but you're playing a longer game."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Alexander exhaled, giving a small, almost amused nod.

"So are you."

For the first time, Elias saw it.

Not the hero. Not the warrior.

But the man who had spent his life navigating politics, betrayal, and strategy.

They were not so different.

And that, more than anything, made this war dangerous.

The Unspoken Truth

Alexander studied Elias for a long moment, then said, "You're not what I expected."

Elias raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The Hero swirled his glass, thoughtful. "You're dangerous, but not because of strength. Not because of magic or brute force."

His blue eyes locked onto Elias's, piercing and sharp.

"You remind me of the men who win wars before the first battle is fought."

Elias held his gaze. "And you remind me of the men who refuse to lose."

The tension between them thickened—not as enemies, not yet.

As players in a game only they understood.

A Warning, A Promise

Alexander set his glass down. "Tell me, Lord Voss."

He folded his hands together. "Do you believe in fate?"

Elias leaned back, lips curling into a faint smirk. "No. Only choices."

Alexander exhaled. "Then let me tell you the choice I've made."

He leaned forward, voice calm but unshakable.

"I will break your kingdom, Elias."

Elias did not blink.

"I will tear down your walls, not with brute force, but with reason. With unity."

His voice was steady, quiet—but there was no bravado, no arrogance.

Only certainty.

"I will not fight a war of slaughter. I will fight a war of conviction."

Elias's smirk didn't fade, but something inside him stirred.

Because this man—this man truly believed it.

And that made him more dangerous than any warrior Elias had ever faced.

Elias picked up his glass again, swirling the wine before taking a slow sip.

Then he set it down and smiled.

"And I will show you," he said, voice smooth as silk, "how conviction alone is not enough."

For the first time—Alexander Vael's expression changed.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Just the quiet realization that he, too, had met someone he could not afford to underestimate.

A Future Written in Blood

The two men rose.

The bottle of wine remained half-finished.

Alexander extended a hand. "Shall we begin, then?"

Elias took it.

And for the briefest moment, as their hands met, something shifted.

A feeling.

An understanding.

Not enemy to enemy.

But equal to equal.

The game had begun.

And neither of them could afford to lose.