High school student Ren Arisato falls into a world that looks like a warzone — still wearing his uniform. But he doesn't panic. He can open an admin menu. In front of trembling villagers, he casually spawns legendary divine items, mutters that he just wants a quiet life, and walks off.
Lyra, the village herbalist, becomes his guide against her better judgment. A cat-eared girl named Kiki appoints herself his official witness and sells stories about his nonsense for high prices.
When a demon ho
Do Not Bend the Knee - Non-Aggression Pact and the Letter from the North
Morning light poured down upon the village as if washing the world clean.
From the hut on the hill, the fields of Carve village drank in the morning dew, glittering and sparkling. The stream flowed as it always did, and in the distance, the crowing of roosters could be heard.
But that "as always" seemed somehow thin and hollow to everyone's eyes.
From the outskirts of the village, in the direction of the golem dance venue ruins, morning mist still rose. That plain where the demon kings had been made to dance. This morning, all of that heat, those songs, those cries—all of it had vanished.
What remained was only silence.
—And there were those who had come, right now, to shatter that silence.
A heavy sound shook the ground.
The northern plaza of the village. From the shadows of the houses, carriage after carriage, adorned with lavish decorations, emerged one after another. The horses' breaths were ragged, and the coachmen's faces were utterly exhausted. They looked as though they had been driving through the entire night.
"...That's quite a number."
Lyra Fernell, the herbalist, gazed at the scene in the village's central plaza and let out a small sigh. Her ash-brown braid swayed gently in the morning breeze. Her calm green eyes looked somewhat tired. The fatigue from evacuating the demon army yesterday still lingered in her body.
The herb bag at her waist was stuffed with selva grass she had just picked that morning. She had been about to take it to market when this commotion began.
Before the village chief's house, a crowd had gathered before she knew it. From the door of the stone house, the village chief, Doma Hepner, emerged with a pale face. At 68 years old, he was the only person in the village striving to handle the "Ren problem" as an international secret. But that effort was about to completely crumble this morning.
"How many carriages are there in total!?"
"They stretch all the way from the village entrance to here! At the front is the banner of Berkhein! Behind them, Filcena, and further back, the merchant flag of Travas!"
"The kings of three kingdoms, all at once, of all times...!"
Doma staggered and leaned against a pillar in the plaza.
"That's not all. Look at the southern sky."
The villagers all looked up at once toward the southern sky where Lyra pointed. There, a deep purple cloud—different from that blackish red—was slowly moving northward.
"...That's demon mist. The Seven Pillars are moving, bringing their shadows with them."
"H-hey now... you mean the human kings and the demon kings are going to run into each other in this village!?"
"I can't take this anymore! Why does this village keep getting caught up in things like this..."
The plaza erupted into chaos in an instant.
But the murmuring suddenly stopped, from "a certain direction."
That hut on the hill.
From Ren Arisato's house, the sound of a lazy yawn echoed, as if mocking everything in this world.
―――
Inside the hut.
Ren was, as always, wrapped in his blanket, sprawled out on the floor. Slightly bed-headed black hair. Sleepy brown eyes under half-closed lids. His 172cm body had become nothing more than an object on the old wooden floor.
Knock knock knock.
The door was struck.
"Ren. Are you awake?"
No response.
Knock knock knock knock.
"Ren. I know you're awake. Something incredible is happening right now. Do you realize that because of you, this village has become the center of the world?"
Lyra opened the door with a sigh.
"...Shut up. I told you I just got off night shift."
Ren pulled the blanket over his head.
"Night shift!? You haven't worked once since coming to this world! Yesterday, you made that demon army dance and that was it! After that you just slept the whole time!"
"...Dancing takes it out of you."
"You weren't the one dancing!!"
Lyra, fuming, threw open the hut's window. Light streamed in, illuminating Ren's face.
"Look. Over there. The kings are gathering in the northern plaza. And from the south, the demon kings are coming too."
"...Yeah, I know."
"If you know, then get up! It's a meeting! A meeting! The world's leaders are waiting in line to see you!"
Ren slowly sat up. Then, one yawn.
Fwaaah.
"Meeting? Too much trouble, I'm not going. You handle it however you want."
"Huh?"
"My only wish is to live quietly. That's all. I don't know anything about anything else. Oh, but make them stop making noise in front of my house. Also, if there's anything good for lunch, buy me some. Money's... well, it's lying around somewhere over there."
Ren pointed at a pile of gold coins carelessly stacked in the corner of the hut. It was part of the tribute sent from the three kingdoms, and the "tribute money" Kiki had earned by selling information about Ren.
"You... are you seriously telling me to run the meeting?"
"Yeah. You're good at that kind of thing, right? You've got leadership skills. I'm really bad at that stuff. You've got to use people, right?"
"Don't just shamelessly say 'use people'! I'm the village herbalist! I don't have any skills for negotiating with kings!"
"But they didn't come to fight, right? They're probably just scared after the golem dance. If you just nod along, they'll get along on their own. Good luck~"
With that, Ren pulled the blanket over himself again and curled up.
"Hey, you're not going? Want me to show you to the meeting hall?"
"...Never mind. I was an idiot for expecting anything from you."
Lyra left the hut, clutching her stomach. It ached sharply. Whether from hunger or stress, she couldn't tell.
"...Why is it that everything around you turns into such a hassle?"
Lyra muttered to herself.
―――
The northern plaza of the village.
That place, originally used as the stage for village festivals, now had luxurious canopies set up, with three long tables arranged in a triangle.
On the north side, the seat of the king, guarded by the knights of the Kingdom of Berkhein.
On the east side, the bishops of the Holy State of Filcena sat in rows in white ceremonial robes.
On the west side, the delegation of the Travas Merchant Alliance. Under purple and gold canopies, wealthy merchants sat restlessly, fans in hand.
However, there was no "center" to this meeting hall.
Only the purple light pouring down from the southern sky grew ever stronger.
Before long, a group clad in pitch-black cloaks entered from the southern entrance. At the front was a well-built demon. A large man over two meters tall, his red eyes glowing quietly. On his head, one of his horns was chipped—perhaps an aftereffect of the humiliating dance parade.
The demon king who had once suffered defeat at Ren's hands. Third of the Seven Pillars, Dorvak.
"...Everyone, I have kept you waiting."
A deep, theatrical voice, though this morning it was slightly stiff. Dorvak glared around at the human kings.
"Next time, it will be because you humans mistook someone calling themselves a divine messenger for a demon king. We suffered such public humiliation because of that 'misunderstanding.' This horn on my face is cheap compared to that disgrace."
Dorvak traced his chipped horn with his finger.
"...So, where is this 'divine messenger'?"
The human representatives all turned their gazes at once toward the corner of the plaza—toward Lyra Fernell, the village herbalist.
Lyra shrank back uncomfortably.
"...Um, Ren is, well, apparently not feeling well..."
"Oh? Not feeling well? Has that man ever had any illness other than being energetic enough to nap from morning on?"
Dorvak's mouth twisted into a grin. The faces of the human kings grew even paler.
The King of the Kingdom of Berkhein, Altreus van Berkhein.
"Herbalist. We have come to this remote region to discuss the order of the world. What meaning is there in a meeting without its principal?"
"The principal will not come. That is that man's answer. Therefore, the meeting will proceed 'without the principal.'"
"But that will not resolve anything. The right of protection over that man has already been secured with priority by my kingdom. The management of the recent 'Sword Selection' naturally belongs to us as well."
King Altreus of Berkhein declared boldly, stroking his silver beard. In his mind, he could see a future where the holy sword Ren had thrust into the ground would be proclaimed throughout the world alongside his kingdom's royal crest.
"Wait just a moment. That person is the 'Manifested Divine Will' recorded in our scriptures. The Aurum Archbishopric has a duty to record that person's life in our holy texts and venerate him for all eternity. This is not some vulgar matter of 'protection'—it is only proper that we receive him reverently in the holy city of Frostia as an object of faith."
The Archbishop of Filcena, clad in white robes—his name was Gregorio. One of the highest authorities of the Holy State of Filcena, he spoke in an enraptured tone, his long beard swaying.
"Faith? Don't make me laugh. Didn't you people try to propose marriage to that man and get ignored? Record him in your scriptures? That's just your way of dressing up sour grapes as the will of god."
Dorvak spat the words out. The Archbishop of Filcena's face turned redder by the second.
"H-how rude! We merely wish to properly convey the will of god!"
"Then let me ask you—do you know what color the blanket is in that man's hut? What his favorite food is? What time he wakes from his naps? You don't know, do you? Even as you prattle on about 'the will of god,' you know nothing about that man."
At Dorvak's words, the Archbishop of Filcena choked on his words.
Then, one of the Travas Merchant Alliance representatives raised his hand with a smile.
"In that case, we have purchased highly valuable information from a dog-eared informant. We of Travas will supply all of Lord Ren's daily necessities in perpetuity at exceptional terms. Trade rights are surely the most practical form of 'protection.'"
"Informant!? That cat-eared brat!? You people actually believe the nonsense that little creature spreads in her 'Kiki Reports'!?"
"Nonsense? That's harsh. My reports are all high-quality news based on eyewitness accounts!"
Suddenly, a bright voice fell from above the canopy.
Short orange hair and cat ears that twitched and bounced. Large golden eyes sparkled mischievously. Kiki, the cat-eared courier. Before anyone knew it, she was perched atop one of the pillars supporting the canopy. In her hand was her usual booklet, and she was in high spirits, her white-tipped tail swaying.
"Ah, Kiki! When did you—wait, get down from there!"
"No way. This is the best view. Besides, there's no way I'd miss a meeting this extravagant. I'm going to sell the full record of this as a special edition of the Kiki Report at the tavern! Title: 'World Leaders in Huge Brawl at Village Plaza!'... How's that? It'll sell, right?"
"You really are something else..."
Lyra pressed her hand to her forehead.
"—Now then, this beast girl's nonsense can be dealt with later. More importantly, the real issue is: who was the first to call that man a 'Demon Lord'?"
Dorvak glared at the human side again.
"That's right! We have no memory of ever calling that man a 'Demon Lord'! That was an unfounded insult spread by humans to hide their own failures!"
"Wait just a moment. Didn't you people also fear that man on your own and attack with a great army? And as a result, you were made to dance. That's your own 'just deserts,' isn't it?"
"Don't speak as if this doesn't concern you! It was because you humans sent gifts and marriage proposals to curry favor with that man that strange rumors spread even into our demon territory!"
"Then why did you lose to that man so easily back then? Because a demon king lost through dancing, the effect of our 'Sword Selection' was diminished, wasn't it!"
"Y-you dare bring up that day...! That was my arrogance. No, that was—my heart, the music, how could it...!"
Dorvak's face went past copper-red and turned bright crimson. Ste
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