The banquet had reached its peak, the energy in the room surging even higher.
Food and drink vanished as quickly as they were served, replaced instantly by fresh platters and casks. Though the gathering was relatively small for a banquet, the speed at which they consumed everything was nothing short of impressive.
I hadn't touched the standard fare myself, but watching the glasses and plates being emptied in rapid succession was a source of quiet amusement. I sat in a corner of the room, observing the chaos.
(A moment like this is truly a fine thing.)
The thought filled me with a sense of profound calm. Lately, I’d found more room to breathe. The continental situation had stabilized despite some lingering skirmishes, and there had been no signs of any interference from the Will of the World.
My only real concern was the Two Heroes—the Valkyrie and the Steel Knight. However, even they weren't a major issue for the time being. While they were undeniably powerful—true one-against-a-thousand warriors—they were still within the realm of common sense. They weren't targets that required my immediate intervention.
For now, they seemed preoccupied with the reconstruction and territorial defense of the recaptured Republic. Should they ever decide to invade the Demon King's Domain, I intended to leave them to Henry and Dorda. Unless they faced a complete mismatch in abilities or were forced into a situation where they had to protect vulnerable subordinates, my generals could win without much trouble.
Lately, Yura had also expressed a desire to fight, so I considered letting her accompany them. She possessed more than enough strength. I’d heard that Diera had been training her occasionally, so she had likely honed her combat capabilities even further.
I had nothing to worry about. Tonight, I would enjoy the banquet to the fullest, and from tomorrow onward, I would brace myself once more.
As these thoughts drifted through my mind, Grom emerged from the kitchen. He took a seat directly across from me, glancing briefly at the rowdy group.
"As lively as ever, I see," he remarked.
"Cleaning up afterward is going to be a struggle," I replied.
"Leave that to me, my Lord. I, Grom, shall see to it that these drunkards are sentenced to forced labor. Even in a time of celebration, a lack of moderation requires a bitter dose of medicine."
Grom spoke with his hand over his chest. He sounded like he was joking, but he was likely quite serious. He would undoubtedly conscript the lot of them once they had sobered up.
Grom’s gaze shifted back to me. His ox-headed skull seemed to radiate an unusually gentle atmosphere.
"Are you also enjoying the banquet, Demon King-sama?"
"I am."
When I answered, Grom nodded, the flames in his eye sockets flaring as if in joy.
"That is wonderful to hear. It gives me all the more incentive to put my heart into the cooking. I shall bring out a meal specifically for you, Demon King-sama, in a little while."
"A meal adjusted for the undead?"
"Indeed. I have been practicing, and I have finally managed to perfect it. I am certain you will be satisfied."
"I look forward to it."
Grom’s proposal was intriguing. It appeared he had gone to the trouble of preparing an Undead Meal. I had just been thinking I wouldn't mind a bit more to eat if it were possible.
"Thank you very much! Well then, I shall go and prepare it at once!"
Brimming with enthusiasm, Grom stood with a light step and walked briskly back toward the kitchen. Logan arrived just as he was leaving.
"An atmosphere like this is good once in a while, isn't it?"
"Indeed. The subordinates are enjoying themselves. A little rest is important."
Usually, in addition to their heavy workloads, they were constantly deployed for battles across various regions. It had reached the point where everyone seemed to be working without sleep or rest. It might be fine for undead like Grom or me, but it was a harsh lifestyle for the others.
Logan tilted his glass, and the amber liquid ebbed slightly. It looked like fruit liquor. I suddenly recalled drinking something similar over a decade ago.
"If it were the old you," Logan said, "you probably would have slipped out of the room without a word. Now, you don't even look like you want to leave. It’s a good change."
"...I didn't think I was quite that unsociable."
I looked back on those days. It was true that, compared to now, I’d had very little mental leeway. Burdened with the mission to save the world, I had been constantly exhausted.
As I tilted my head in thought, Logan continued.
"You just weren't aware of it. That's simply the kind of man you were."
"Is that so?"
He stated it with such conviction that I couldn't argue. For him to be so blunt, the impression I’d left must have been incredibly strong. He surely had his reasons for saying so. I was forced to acknowledge his point.
Upon reflection, I began to analyze myself.
"Having subordinates has changed my awareness and my perspective. I suppose it means I am growing as well."
"...You've become quite the smooth talker. I suppose that’s to be expected of a Demon King."
Logan looked at me with an impressed expression. My words had apparently surprised him. I still lacked much self-awareness regarding the change, and I suspected he might be exaggerating a bit. However, from his perspective as an old friend, the transformation was clear. If I was becoming more like a Demon King should be, then I supposed I should be pleased.
While I was processing his observation, Diera approached from across the room. She was staggering, swaying precariously from side to side. Liquor spilled continuously from the glass in her hand, and her face was flushed a deep red. She had been drinking heavily for some time and was now clearly dead drunk.
Diera slumped against my back, clinging to me. The momentum caused her drink to splash over my shoulder and head. Oblivious, she spoke in a voice thick with drunken sighs.
"Whassat? A Demon King, you say? Were you lot... callin' for me?"
Diera began poking my skull with her free hand, a series of hard, rhythmic clicks echoing through the room. Her hollow eyes eventually drifted toward Logan, settling on him as her next target.
"Muu! Logan! You haven't been drinkin' much, have you? Don't hold back, just drink! This one's on me!"
Diera shouted, thrusting her glass into the air. Logan replied with a look of pure annoyance.
"If you're bored, go help with the serving or the dishes. You're good at simple tasks, aren't you?"
"Is that not a bit... too much? I am the predecessor Demon King, you know..."
Diera muttered to herself, sounding slightly sulky. Just then, a boisterous voice called out from the center of the room.
"Sister Predecessor! Get over here for a second!"
"Hmm? Me? What do you want!"
Diera perked up instantly. Still clinging to my back, she twisted her head toward Henry. Beside him stood Dorda and Yura. A short distance away, Luciana was sipping her drink with a delighted look, clearly using the scene as entertainment to accompany her liquor.
Henry stood in the middle of the group, flexing his muscles as he explained.
"We're having a contest to see who's the strongest among us. You want in, Sister?"
"Oh, what a delightful idea! I shall participate as well!"
Diera set her glass down and hurried over to Henry’s group. Rolling up her sleeves, her bad mood had vanished entirely.
Diera planted her elbow on a table. Her opponent was Yura, who—I wondered where she’d found it—was currently inhabiting her Dedicated Machine Golem.
The two faced each other and gripped hands. The rules were simple: exert enough force to pin the back of the opponent's hand to the table. I had seen them hold these contests before.
Logan, who had been watching the scene unfold, sighed as he looked at Diera.
"It seems some have changed even more than you. I can hardly believe she's the one who once plunged the world into darkness..."
"Quite true," I agreed.
In our line of sight, Yura’s golem hand slammed down. The table shattered under the force of the impact, and Diera—having lost the strength contest in spectacular fashion—was sent tumbling through the air.