That night, I sat within a grand hall in the Elven Village.
Normally a space for council meetings, the Chief, Logan, had arranged for it to be reserved entirely for the Demon King’s Army.
The room was filled with our executives and those of similar standing. Platters of food lined the tables, a collaborative effort between the village elves and Grom.
The loss of my sense of smell was a bitter side effect of my undead state, meaning the aromas were lost on me. Yet, the sheer sight of the spread was enough to satisfy my soul.
Several barrels of liquor lined the walls, an amount sufficient to quench the thirst of ten times our current number.
"……Hmm."
On a slightly elevated dais, Diera raised her glass. She surveyed the room, letting a heavy silence hang before she finally spoke.
"My friends, I thank you from the depths of my heart for gathering here this evening. Therefore, I shall—"
"A toast! To the recapturing of the Republic!" Henry bellowed, cutting her off.
He brandished a mug of fire liquor. Judging by his crimson face, he had already helped himself to several servings. With that shout, the festivities officially began.
The executives fell into easy conversation. Still, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irony at the mention of celebrating the "recapturing" of the Republic. Typically, one toasted to a hard-won victory, but Henry’s words were technically accurate given our objectives.
The Republic was always intended to be returned. Far from being frustrated by its loss, I had been eager to foist the territory onto the neighboring nations as soon as possible so we could focus on more pressing matters.
While I brooded over politics, Diera was busy berating Henry.
"Archer! We agreed that I would lead the toast! Is this a mutiny? Have you turned traitor!?"
"Don’t be so stiff at a feast," Henry replied with a smirk. "It shows your age, Predecessor."
"Ngh... How dare you brandish such sound logic against me..."
Their bickering wasn't serious; it was more akin to playful banter. Henry remained his usual self even when facing the preceding Demon King. He didn't yield an inch, eventually managing to talk her into a corner.
Deciding they were fine on their own, I looked down at the glass on the table. It contained a translucent, white liquid. When swirled, it moved with a slight viscosity, and upon closer inspection, I could see countless red granules suspended within it.
"…………"
I raised the glass and tilted it back, swallowing the contents.
A body of bone cannot drink as a living human does. The liquid washed over my jaw and through my skeletal frame without mercy.
(……Hm?)
The areas touched by the liquid began to tingle with a strange, prickly irritation. At that moment, Luciana took the seat opposite me.
"How is it?"
"……Bitter. And spicy."
I offered my honest appraisal. A sharp bitterness and heat were indeed being transmitted from where the liquid had coated my jawbone. I had no tongue, yet I could taste. This was the result of magical engineering—a concoction designed specifically to allow the undead to experience the pleasures of consumption.
Luciana gestured toward the glass. "The Research Institute Director formulated it, and I made the final adjustments. I had the Bone Minister test it, and he gave it a passing grade. Does it make you feel like you’re actually having a meal?"
"Yes. It’s excellent. You have my thanks."
This beverage had been developed solely for my benefit. Despite being entirely useless to the living, an immense amount of effort had been poured into its creation. It wasn't exactly delicious in the traditional sense, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the sensation itself. For one who had lost their sense of taste, this was a monumental leap forward. Luxury and indulgence have a value all their own—a fact I had come to realize only after I ceased to be human.
Between experiments with spicy stimulants and holy magic, the Research Institute had been working on this for some time. I was deeply grateful they prioritized such lifestyle improvements alongside their weapon development.
"I’m glad," Luciana said, sticking out her tongue with a wry grin. "It tasted so foul to me that I couldn't even finish a sample to check the quality. I was worried."
I didn't blame her; it certainly wasn't something a living person would enjoy. Yet she had likely churned through dozens of prototypes for me. Luciana was as devoted as Grom, in her own way. She served me because she was infatuated with my overwhelming strength. So long as I remained the pinnacle of power, she would remain a loyal subject. I could ask for no more reliable a subordinate.
As I chatted with Luciana and sipped the liquid, a noise erupted behind us. I turned to see Dolda wandering aimlessly, a fork clutched in each hand.
"Heads... I need more heads..."
He let out his usual, hollow moans. His old wolf head, however, was busy chewing on a thick slab of meat. His gaze darted across the table, hungrily eyeing the remaining dishes.
(Is the food he eats being contained within his body...?)
As I harbored this trivial question, a figure appeared to block Dolda’s path. It was Yura. She leveled a finger at him.
"Warning to Individual Name Dolda—cease this erratic behavior immediately. Any further escalation will result in a shift to suppression action."
"It is no use... without... heads..."
The two stood their ground, an aura of confrontation rising between them. Of course, it wasn't truly tense. There was no need for me to intervene.
"It’s quite peaceful, isn't it?"
"Indeed. It’s almost heartwarming."
Watching the two of them square off, Luciana and I both took another drink of our respective beverages.