Silence filled the throne room. Schwarzkaiser——the demon lord's castle standing on a basalt plateau eight hundred meters above sea level in the center of the dark continent Noctaria. The throne room, the heart of this fortress, was a vast chamber with a ceiling twenty meters high, and the flames of torches cast long shadows across the stone pillars. Wind seemed to seep in from somewhere, causing the flames to flicker occasionally. At the very back stood a throne of obsidian. Seated upon it——Klaus Schwarz——gazed quietly down at those before him. Silver hair fell slightly disheveled across his shoulders. A small horned mark adorned his left brow. An old scar ran down his left cheek. The edges of his black robe were trimmed with crimson embroidery, draping loosely over his sturdy frame. His deep crimson vertical-slit pupils held a serene light even as the flames danced, unmoved. Three thousand two hundred years had left almost no mark upon his face. Yet in this moment, a faint crease appeared between his brows. (……Today. I will decide.) Arrayed below were the elite forces of Noctaria's main camp——officially three thousand strong. Demons possessed physical abilities five times greater than ordinary humans, and all could wield basic magic. Klaus's own magical power measured eighty-five thousand Magna——equivalent to a hundred skilled mages, or seventeen thousand ordinary humans. In theory, there was enough power here to incinerate the entire daylight continent. But. Klaus looked again at the front row. The strategist was empty-handed. The leather tube that should have held the operation plans——he wasn't holding it at all. Bare hands. Unarmed. And his eyes looked slightly drowsy. The scout commander beside him was sunburned as if he'd spent three weeks at a seaside in midsummer. His face was oddly red. And faintly——very faintly——he smelled of seafood. The smell reached all the way to the edge of the throne room. The decryption officer in the back row cradled a thick ancient grimoire in both arms, his face radiating pride. Accomplishment seeped from his entire being. Klaus exhaled quietly. "……Then, we begin." A low, quiet voice. It resonated through the throne room. His subordinates straightened their postures——more or less. "Today, we decide the first move of world conquest. The operation plans." The strategist stepped forward smoothly. His expression was grave. His eyes were serious. He looked like he had something difficult to say. "[serious]My lord demon king. I have a report." "I'm listening." "[serious]The operation plans……we used them for firewood." There was a pause. A long pause. "…………Why." "[serious]It was cold." A faint blue vein appeared on Klaus's forehead. His tone of voice didn't change. Wouldn't change. It felt like it shouldn't change. "Operation plans are not firewood." "[serious]Well……I thought they were firewood." "They are not firewood." "[serious]But they burned." "Paper burns. That does not make it firewood." "[serious]……I see." "You do not see." Klaus rested his elbow on the armrest. He pressed his fingertips to his temple. A strange silence drifted through the throne room. The torches flickered. He gathered himself and looked at the scout commander. "The scout's report." The scout commander stepped forward. His sunburned face turned upward with pride. "[excited]Yes! There was a seafood festival in Melvita, a port city on the southern coast of the Fortis continent. It was delicious. For three weeks." Klaus looked at the scout commander. He stared at him. "……Give me the scout report." "[excited]I did. It was delicious." "That is an opinion." "[excited]Then……it was the best." "Your opinion has increased." "[excited]It was very, very the best." "It continues to increase." Klaus covered his face with one hand. He breathed in deeply. Then exhaled quietly. The throne room was silent. None of his subordinates offered help. Of course not. There was no one who could. There was still hope. The decryption officer in the back row. Look at that proud expression. There must be some achievement. The ancient grimoire they'd kept for thousands of years——Noctaria's oldest strategy book. If only he could decipher that. "[serious]Decryption officer. About the ancient grimoire." The decryption officer's eyes lit up. "[excited]My lord! I finally decoded the entire text!" "……I see." Something stirred faintly in his chest. Something like hope. Perhaps the first time in over three thousand years. "[excited]Yes! According to this book——to conquer the world, you just need to distribute presents to all of humanity!" There was a pause. This time, a truly long pause. The torches flickered. Somewhere, a stone fell. "……Show me." The decryption officer eagerly held out the book. Klaus took it and traced his eyes over the rows of ancient demon script. The writing system from thousands of years ago, but of course he could read it. It was the script from when he was alive. There it was, written clearly. "Give all humanity 〈Pressure〉." Klaus closed the book. He quietly returned it to the decryption officer. "It is not 'present' but 'pressure.'" "[surprised]Eh? But……don't they seem similar?" "They do not." "[surprised]The atmosphere kind of……" "Do not decipher ancient documents based on atmosphere." "[surprised]But the character shapes——" "The character shapes are completely different." "[surprised]……Is that so." The decryption officer wilted. But after a beat, he suddenly looked up. "[surprised]Oh, by the way. This book——we've been decoding it wrong for thousands of years, haven't we? ……Which means all the operations up until now were based on this mistranslation?" Klaus froze. His entire body went still. (……I don't want to think about it.) But there was no need to think. The answer was already clear. It was true. Three thousand eight hundred years' worth of operation plans had all been drafted in the direction of distributing presents. A gift list for humanity filled an entire shelf. A procurement officer existed. Inventory management tables existed. The subordinates began to murmur. "[surprised]So what have we been doing all this time?" "Looking for presents." "Me too." "Me too." "[surprised]Everyone was looking for presents!?" The throne room suddenly became noisy. That's right, that's right——when we bulk-purchased sweets at the southern market, when we commissioned custom wrapping paper from daylight continent textile workers, it was all part of the present operation, wasn't it? The conversation scattered. Someone laughed. Someone else said, "So everything we did was meaningless?" Another voice complained, "We used such high-quality material for that wrapping paper." "……Enough." A low voice. Everyone fell silent. "This meeting is adjourned." "[excited]Yes!!" "[excited]Early dismissal!!" The subordinates poured out of the throne room like an avalanche. Their footsteps receded. Cheerfully, with a clatter. Not one of them looked back. Klaus remained alone in the silent throne room. The torches flickered. The shadows of the stone pillars stretched and contracted. Klaus leaned back deeply into the throne's backrest and gazed up at the high ceiling. The ancient stone ceiling bore not a single crack. He had built this castle more than five thousand years ago. At least the construction quality was trustworthy. (……Three thousand eight hundred years.) He had pursued world conquest for millennia. That much was true. But what was the reality? The operation plans became firewood. The scout unit melted into a three-week seafood festival. The ancient document was misread by a single character, over and over. Even with three thousand troops in name, an organization that didn't function was worthless. With his magical power alone——eighty-five thousand Magna, he could perhaps physically obliterate the daylight continent. But that was destruction, not conquest. To use his subordinates, to control the world as an organization. That was what conquest meant. He had spent thousands of years for that. Yet every time, this. Not a single step forward. Klaus closed his eyes. A quiet moment passed. Nothing happened. Distant voices of subordinates echoed. They were already heading to the tavern. The "Black Moon Pavilion" in Duskvale below the castle——the standard place his subordinates snuck off to during work. Klaus knew this and lacked the will to stop them now. Suddenly, an old memory began to surface. Under the night sky. A night full of stars. Someone stood beside him. A smile——he could no longer recall exactly what kind of smile it was. Only the voice, at unexpected moments, echoed in the depths of his ears. ——I will wait for you. A fragment of a promise from three thousand eight hundred years ago began to take shape, its outline forming. At that very moment. A deafening roar shook the air. The stone floor trembled. Something collapsed in the distance. Klaus slowly opened his eyes. The remnants of memory scattered like mist. Seconds later, a subordinate rolled into the throne room, his face pale. He literally rolled in. On his knees, gasping for breath. "[scared]My lord! This is terrible!!" "What happened." "[scared]A Rank S adventurer from Brave Compass has invaded the castle alone!!" Klaus's brow moved slightly. Brave Compass——the largest adventurer's mutual aid organization in the daylight domain. Established following the magical beast pandemic eight hundred years ago, it currently had approximately fourteen thousand registered members. The Rank S designation at its apex was held by only seven people across all continents. One could not be promoted without a proven track record of defeating disaster-class magical beasts alone——the de facto highest combat force. "What of the elite unit at the main gate." The subordinate's eyes wavered. "[scared]That is……during combat, it became lunchtime." "…………" "[scared]They took a break, and that's when we were breached……" All expression drained from Klaus's face. Complete emptiness. As if three thousand two hundred years of accumulation had been erased. "During lunchtime." "[scared]Yes." "They took a break." "[scared]Yes. They said the fried chicken was delicious……" "Fried chicken." "[scared]Yes." A heavy silence pressed down. "……Where is the intruder now." "[scared]Heading straight down the corridor toward the throne. There's no one to stop them……everyone's eating their lunch……" Before those words even finished. The great doors of the throne room groaned. From within, slowly. As if the visitor opened them by natural right, the massive doors moved without a hint of their great weight. Torchlight spilled through the gap, faintly illuminating the darkness of the corridor beyond. Klaus rose from his throne. Eighty-five thousand Magna of magical power swirled quietly within his robe. The aura of a supreme ruler, honed over three thousand two hundred years, seeped silently from his entire being. Even if breached by lunchtime, even if three thousand years wasted by mistranslation——that much was real. Yet in some distant corner of his chest. As the doors opened, the memory fragment surfaced once more. The night sky three thousand eight hundred years ago. Stars. The silhouette of someone standing beside him. The voice saying: I will wait for you. That memory, in this moment, became rapidly, vividly clear. The doors opened.