Unfortunately, I’m Not A Hero: 9

Unfortunately, I’m Not A Hero: 9

…

Wordcount: 2500

Commissioned by Shaderic.

…

We tracked down the Lich easily. The ash that was falling from the low smoke made it nearly impossible to get anywhere without leaving a trial. There wasn’t enough ash falling to make it look like winter, but the Lich’s lands were naturally devoid of life, so the thin layer of ash hung on the dead trees and black grass as though I’d set fire to a whole city instead of just one, enemy base. The world was making me look worse than I was, dammit. Give me an entrance filled with death and ash when I attack unjustifiable targets for fuck’s sake. Don’t make me look like what a Demon Lord’s supposed to be when all I’ve done is beat my regular enemies!

Anyway, the Lich didn’t make it far, since she’d decided to drag along her Undead instead of riding away on her skeletal horse.

Thankfully, it was just an ordinary horse turned into a skeleton. Looking at all the wet dreams of guro fetishists walking around in the form of the Lich’s Zombies and Ghouls was terrible enough. As an avid fan of fantasy, before I was sucked into this shitty setting, I understood why some people would like to turn dragons and other strong, powerful monsters into beautiful women, but whoever came up with making Undead hot has something wrong with their head. Sure, Lich and Vampires are okay, because they died by becoming Undead. Heck, Ghosts and Phantoms get a pass too. But living corpses? Fuck no. That shit is disgusting. 

I really wanted to give a reason to have Ur and the Amazons to take on the fifty-or-so Undead mooks that the Lich had following her in her escape. Heck, as far as I was concerned, since they were all lined up and ready to fold around my little group, I should’ve told my bodyguards to charge and break through. The best way to avoid being encircled by Undead is by not allowing them to encircle me. Attacking the Lich, taking her hostage along with her Phylactery, was the best possible means of doing that. 

Ur was also more likely to do as I said now that the Lich, who she tried to protect, unleashed a Mindflayer on us. 

Surprisingly, though, I didn’t get the chance to do that, because the Lich raised her hands and had her horse turn towards us when her Undead finished making a line between her and us. Instead of the clothing I provided her, she instead wore a gold-trimmed coat over a short, silvery dress. And long, black riding boots that reached over her knee. Naturally, she didn’t wear pants, despite horseback riding, because MONSTERGIRLS. The Amazons get a pass at riding wearing combat swimsuits because their skin is literally tougher than steel, but what excuse do you have, you wimp!? Don’t tell me you’re tough AND can cast spells, too!? That’s OP, you shitter!

“I surrender.” Ur seemed surprised by the Lich’s words, but I wasn’t. If your superweapon’s been fucked, with a whole enemy combat base destroyed as collateral, by your pursuers then surrender is the only option. Not only that, but since we were the pursuers in question, we were also the ones who forced her to unleash her trap. The fact that we were outnumbered didn’t matter in the slightest, since Zombies needed numbers to defeat a superior force. An untrained Amazon would fall to fifty, but a trained one would ensure mutual defeat. Ur and her elites, who were veterans, trained in combat, and given the knowledge the Empire never wanted them to have? Fifty Liches would have a better chance at taking all five of them on. “Spare the remains of my companions and I shall do as you wish.”

I would’ve liked to accept the offer, but after the trouble we went through I couldn’t allow it. We might have been unarmed, but she’d turned a simple kidnapping/arbitrary recruitment into a fight that we had to win. If she’d given up right away, if we hadn’t had to do what we did to survive her counter attack, then I would’ve been more than happy to accept her surrender. Now, though? I couldn’t exactly let her take the same offer I’d given her, before she’d tried to kill me and my guards.

“No. You don’t get to make deals. Not after trying to fuck with our heads.” At my words, Ur and her Amazons dismounted. The zombies shifted and groaned their moans, while my guards idly stretched with smiles on their faces and weapons in hand. “What’s going to happen here is I’ll be taking your Phylactery and killing your Undead. You will do what I tell you, when I tell you, and where I tell you. You fucked over any bargaining power you had two hours ago.”

It was also in my best interest to not recruit anyone that had followers. My methods of recruitment are somewhat hostile, so it’s best to not have someone with “allies,” “loyal servants,” or “friends” in my retinue. Those things are just annoyances I’ll have to deal with later, so it’s best that I dealt with it now, especially since I had the advantage and a reason to do it. Not that I needed the latter. The first is a good enough reason alone for Undead, really. 

The Lich had to go and mess up my plan, though.

She dismounted from her horse, after riding it past her line of Zombies. The sick manifestations of gore fetishists groaned and moaned stupidly, but it was obvious that they were trying to keep their mistress from passing through their lines. It was also obvious that Ur and the Amazons were going to let her keep doing what she wanted, instead of doing what I wanted, since they respected foes who knew they were defeated. That respect overrode logic and sensibility, as they ignored me in favor of the enemy. What great subordinates I have. 

The Lich knelt on the ash-covered ground and took her necklace off her neck and offered it towards me with both hands.

“This is my Phylactery. Take it. It is yours. Please, spare the last of my servants. They acted only by my command their entire lives. Every wrong they have committed is my own.” Tch. I don’t know how these words are supposed to convince me to spare them, since they’ll only be more stupidly loyal to you from here on out. Since you’re smart enough to give up, why can’t you understand that I want your subordinates returned to their graves because they’re ugly and loyal to you, instead of being angry at them in the slightest? I don’t hate them. I just don’t want them to exist. “Please. Do not kill the remains of my past. I beg this of you and in return I offer my complete fealty.”

“You die, if you don’t give me your fealty, so those Undead can really die without issue.” Ur glared at me for my words, as I stated the obvious. I met her gaze without blinking and my bodyguard flinched. Sometimes, that tended to happen. I’m not scary, you know? I don’t know how or why Amazons sometimes act like I’m what they’re supposed to be afraid of. All I’m doing is acting in accordance to sound, reasonable logic, y’know? “There’s nothing you can offer that I’ll take, so that I’ll let you have fifty monsters under your command in my territory, after I’ve seen you do.”

The Lich opened her mouth again, but I refused to let the conversation go around in circles.

“Ur, take her. Everyone else, let the Undead rest instead of letting them live their miserable existences.”

I have to admit that I expected things to simply settled down after I gave those orders. Not literally, naturally. The Lich would’ve screamed and tried to fight, even if she’d just get knocked out, and the Zombies would put up a bit of a ruckus before being turned back into what they previously were. However, instead of the situation going as easily as I’d hoped, what happened instead was that the moment my guards moved to comply… the Lich lit her hands-on fire. It didn’t damage her in the slightest, but the Phylactery she was holding, that kept her soul tethered in the mortal plan, started to crack and shatter immediately. 

Are you fucking serious?

I am going beaten by someone who sets herself on fire?

What the fuck?

“You are wrong, Human. I… I still own myself. I am me.” Oh, fuck off with that bullshit. Killing yourself is easy as fuck. Try living after doing half the shit I’ve done. Let me tell you, it’s a miracle that I’m only as fucked up as I am right and still breathing. Ending your life so that something you don’t like doesn’t happen to you? Try living your life, after it’s been turned into literal hell. “Spare my subordinates or you lose me, Human of the Demon Lord!”

Well isn’t this great.

“Fuck it. Fine! Keep your shitty guro harem!” After all my hard work, I’m going to be bringing back someone who’d kill themselves over walking corpses! Couldn’t you at least have some sort of secret weapon, better than the one I ran through an Empire town!? Seriously, imagine if I didn’t care about Roseanne shoving mosntergirls down my throat, I’d just let you kill yourself and this would be a massive waste of my time. Could you live with yourself, after your shitty death, if you died knowing that you wasted my time? “Ur, strip them of their weapons. If they ever pick one up again, you’re free to kill them and their leader. From now on, they’re all manual labor… and they’ll be fucking clothed and sewn up, so they don’t spread their shit everywhere!”

I didn’t bother hearing what the Lich had to say about my declaration.

Turning my horse around, I started to make my way into the burning town. The fires hadn’t been hot enough to melt steel, let alone the actual, magical equipment the Empire gave their actual troops. At the very least, I was going to go home with enough military equipment to outfit whoever and whatever I’ll be turning into meathshields. If I’m lucky, I’ll also find some information on regions outside the shitty, borderlands I’d visited within the Empire.

Every little bit I could get, so that I can burn the Empire to the ground was more valuable to me than an SSR unit. 

And, naturally, I needed all the satisfaction I could get, after the shitshow that just happened.

…

Returning to Ylstu was a quick affair, since Zombies had no use for food and rest. Tireless stamina, applied to MK.1 Humans, along with utter disregard for pain, and lack of intellect translated into shitty troops, but excellent labor. They helped trawl through the ash and dust of the basement, load up the sturdy, slightly-burnt wagons hidden away, and kept a running pace with us on horseback. 

Which included Ms. Suicide-Is-A-Valid-Tactic on her skeleton horse. 

The weak bitch. 

Anyway, my settlement grew a little over the month of my absence. More land was cleared for agriculture, the storerooms were filled with dried fish, and a few caravans looking to exploit me and mine came in. We purchased a few of their goods, despite exorbitant markups, because what were we to do without initial investments to ensure our town’s relevance in trade? Money had to flow for goods to flow and I had no intention of continuing my existence as a forager general. People simply fight better with full bellies, good homes, and a lot of debt on their shoulders to the one who provided them with their extremely comfortable life. 

We traded a small storage’s worth of dried fish to get room for all three wagons filled with Empire military equipment and to fill up the stomachs of my bodyguards. Some would call what took place as a feast, one that celebrated my successful recruitment of the Lich and destruction of an Empire base without any casualties, but that’s only for optimists. Most of the food was fish. Dried, grilled, and friend with alcohol and some bread. Dammit. I didn’t want to beg for a chef to remake Japanese cuisine and be a shitty, Isekai protagonist, but I’d been spoiled by the food in Roseanne’s court.

That conniving bitch was trying to get me through my stomach. Underhanded moves are for me and only me, y’know? How dare you use such petty tricks to fuck me over! You should be ashamed of yourself.

Since I didn’t like the food, nor did I have any interests in flags or parties, I went ahead and read the reports of both my Lamia secretary and the patrols that guarded the town. Since the former was adept at administration, I found only multiple attempts to subvert my authority, which I simply put back on her desk with refusals. However, I paid attention to the physical security of my domain. My patrols and town guard were mostly composed of Amazons, all just below Ur in strength and ability, and that meant any reports from them will be about threats they can’t take care off with brute force. And, they had plenty of brute force, so I was surprised to find a report from one of the of the officers on my desk. 

It looks like I have a valid excuse to not read any of Roseanne’s messages for another month, because a tribe of Werewolves were up to no good in the western region of Hachimanland. 

Now, the fact that they haven’t killed any of my Amazons is no surprise. Werewolves are pretty much just a tier about goblins in terms of mob enemies. Most are feral and frenzied to the point where they’re pointed at the enemy by Monstergirls and left to die. They weren’t cute and cuddly Inumimi, but more like feral, pack-oriented creatures given better bodies to tear prey apart. Men didn’t live long in their grasp and packs of them were generally nuisances to Empire borderlands, while they were systematically captured and kept for war by monstergirls. 

Therefore, since my veterans were used to cleaving through armored, well-bred werewolves, it was no surprise they didn’t have any casualties against Amazons. 

The question that needed to be asked was why they weren’t wiped out, why they were taking their wounded with them, and were displaying more intellect than their dog-based brains would allow. What was going on in the borderlands of Hachimanland? An Empire experiments? Roseanne unleashing something on me for her own amusement? Monstergirl Isekai bullshit? I didn’t have an answer to those questions, therefore as the lord of the land, I had to react quickly and swiftly to the threat of my land. Ignoring Roseanne’s small pile of letters was something that I had to simply do. 

Since I didn’t want to deal with any side characters and needed to rank up my Anti-Social Link with my new employee, I took Ur and the Lich from the festivities and set off in the middle of the night to do my duty, protect my realm, and ignore Roseanne.

Truly, I am the best lord ever.