The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

This is absurd, so absurd that it makes people want to laugh, but there's no telling why the laughter won't come.

In the tavern, a goblin with a bandaged head, missing an ear, licked his lips and said with a somewhat complex expression:

"...If it's true, then this Demon King is quite unusual."

"It's possible that it's true," a demon said in a low voice, recalling recent rumors, "The goblins from Black Wind Castle seem to really trust him. Before he came, the entire goblin community was submerged in water; only he genuinely solved their problem."

No matter why the goblin community was submerged, in the end, the problem was indeed solved by Lord Demon King.

He had also heard of more distant legends.

It was said that in the distant Maze of Thunder County, there lived a group of incredibly strong Noobla. They swam in butterfly style in barns, bathed in beer... Even if these were rumors, there must be some truth to them, right?

The Hell Dwarf, Burke, slowly put down the newspaper, looked up at the half-full bottle of spirits, stayed silent for a few seconds, then suddenly picked up the cup and drank it all.

Then, he slammed the empty cup on the table, saying in a deep voice:

"...A toast to the Demon King!"

In an instant, the entire tavern fell silent, an array of strange gazes fixed on this strange fellow.

After about half a minute.

A certain undead, who had been silently sitting in the corner, suddenly spoke up.

"This one's on me... A toast to the Demon King! Burke drank it for me!"

The tavern erupted with murmurs of surprise, even Burke was surprised looking at that undead.

He didn't know the fellow's name, only remembered that on his first day at the tavern, the undead was already sitting there in the corner, never speaking a word, until Burke wondered if the undead had forgotten his name and the way home... Yet he didn't expect him to even remember his own name.

A demon bartender brought a bottle of beer to Burke's side, placing it steadily on the table.

Another half a minute or so passed, and a veteran goblin stood up, raising his cup.

"Damn it, I'll also... toast to the Demon King of Thunder County! Not for anything else, just because he's a man, daring to challenge those high and mighty lords!"

He seemed to forget that Lord Demon King was also one of the lords, but obviously, they were different.

They even had arguments in the newspapers!

That shrill voice was like a match thrown into a coffin, igniting the furnace with a boom.

The tavern air instantaneously heated up.

With the first, came the second, and eventually, every cup was raised.

"To the Demon King!"

"To damn fairness!"

"I've downed mine!"

Glasses clashed with metal cups, the beer foam splashed onto the table, under the dim candlelight looking like pus after the rot of a scar.

In the tavern, those weather-beaten old soldiers grinned, and as they laughed, tears rolled down their cheeks.

What they drank was not just beer, but rather the souls of the dead submerged by fervent voices.

Those high and mighty finally stopped merely singing praises of their deaths.

And began questioning if their deaths were worth it.

Standing behind the counter, the goblin waiter watched the people in the tavern with astonishment, unable to resist the emotions overflowing from the beer foam.

That night, the lowest community of Demon City began to spread a story.

The protagonist of the story was neither the Chosen One of Lord Demon God nor the great Commander...

But a Demon King they had never met.