Chapter 1

Chapter 1
Chapter: 1

Chapter Title: Failure, and

—

I’m the Demon King, but There Are Too Many Heroes

1. Failure, and

I was the definition of an overachiever.

I entered the Demon King Academy with the highest scores and finished my studies as the valedictorian.

Among the demon race, no peer stood above me. I was unrivaled.

The Standard of the Demon King.

This was the foundational doctrine established at the dawn of the demon realm’s expansion, and I studied its depths more intensely than any other.

When the time came for me to ascend as a legitimate Demon King and deploy to a specific dimension, my brilliance was undeniable.

I adhered to the established protocol with absolute precision.

I executed my master plan step by step, following the manual to the letter.

I constructed a massive tower and seized a princess.

I operated from the shadows, instigating conflict and even facilitating the development of heroes, providing them with both physical resources and moral challenges.

Within that spire where they climbed past the 20th floor, I stationed low-level goblins on the entrance level and placed mighty balrogs on the 19th.

Then, I took my seat upon the throne at the pinnacle, patiently awaiting the arrival of the heroes.

The execution was flawless.

Everything unfolded exactly as anticipated.

The protocol was supposed to be infallible, and I was on the verge of the final triumph.

I never imagined I would fail at the very last hurdle.

How could I, a Demon King—the personification of the demon world’s sacred doctrine—be manipulated so easily by mere mortals? It was a possibility that had never crossed my mind.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Cough—

Blood sprayed from my mouth. Sometimes, a reality that makes no sense only leads to total rejection.

I was unable to accept the truth of the situation.

Why were my legendary black flames failing to burn the heroes?

Why was the hero’s crimson sword, a blade more durable than any known substance, able to slice through my protective scales and pierce my very heart?

The logic escaped me.

“How…?”

The thirst for an answer was stronger than my instinctive terror of passing away.

I had been a devout follower of the Standard of the Demon King.

I took the princesses to ensure the kingdoms focused their hatred on me, and I played the villain to harvest the despair and fury of the masses.

That process was supposed to make me invincible.

The barriers preventing dimensional interference were nearly gone, and most of the realm was under demonic influence—global domination was a hair’s breadth away.

Following that, I nurtured the heroes.

Their heightened states of emotion were the ultimate prize. The doctrine dictated that one must cultivate them only to consume them at their peak.

I raised them exactly as instructed. My only task was to remain at the top of my tower, feast upon these matured heroes, and absorb the resulting demonic power.

If that was the case, why was I the one on the ground?

“How? You Demon Kings are all the same.”

Ha.

The hero who had derailed my grand design looked down at me with a smirk.

“You bring this ruin upon yourselves, and yet you always have that look of shock. I honestly don’t get it.”

“What are you saying…!”

“You start by kidnapping a member of royalty to send a signal to the humans: ‘A Demon King is active, come and get me.’ Could you be any more helpful? If you actually killed the monarch, it would cause genuine chaos in the land.”

But taking the king hostage turns that fury into internal political greed, triggering civil wars over the empty throne.

“And you consistently send minions after the heroes—specifically choosing ones that we can barely defeat.”

A hero cannot be allowed to perish prematurely. It is a calculated move to ensure the final meal isn’t spoiled.

That is the core of the doctrine.

“And it doesn’t stop there. If we head for the tower, you deploy monsters; if we don’t, you send them to us anyway. Do you know what we call that? We call it a gift. They are always just dangerous enough to provide a challenge, so we use them to level up. Your sense of game balance is incredible. Not even my own parents were that dedicated to my growth.”

“Once we get to the tower? It gets even better. The ground floor is always packed with weaklings. They get stronger in perfect increments, tailored exactly to our current strength for optimal training.”

The hero leaned down. He let out a quiet “Thanks.” The word felt like a knife in my gut.

I began to realize the gravity of my error.

“Do you know what heroes call your fortresses? They call them reliable gold mines filled with supplies. A literal paradise for loot.”

He spoke in a low voice.

The foundational belief of the demon realm, of all Demon Kings, and of myself—it was a lie from the very beginning.

Demon Kings aren’t farming heroes for food; it is the heroes who are farming and exploiting the Demon Kings.

“There are heroes who clear your spires all the way to the top but leave the boss alive. Why? It’s convenient. Even if we wipe out the mobs, they just respawn in a few months. It’s the ultimate grinding spot. Of course, you Demon Kings never talk to each other, so you probably had no idea.”

A grinding spot.

My sanctuary.

“But eventually, it gets repetitive. Dull. That’s when we finally finish off the Demon King. You make that same ‘this can’t be happening’ face as you die, and shortly after, a new Demon King and a new tower pop up. It keeps things fresh.”

A never-ending hunting ground. A perfect system.

“You were more resilient than the others. You took down quite a few heroes. But since you played by the same rules, the ending was always going to be the same.”

My consciousness wavered.

To a Demon King, heroes are merely livestock to be slaughtered when convenient. We just feed them to improve the quality—cattle don’t transform into dragons.

That was the absolute truth shared by all demons.

Now, it was shattered.

The heroes weren’t livestock; they were predators capable of killing Demon Kings from the very start.

And Demon Kings were spending their lives strengthening the very predators destined to kill them—doing the work with their own hands.

No, the roles had been reversed the entire time. The heroes were the ones playing the Demon Kings for fools.

How could this be the reality of our existence?

“Well, it’s time to say goodbye, Demon King. I appreciate the help. I’ve become quite famous as a hero because of you. I wonder who the next one will be.”

The hero burst into laughter. They all did. Their blatant contempt was the last thing I saw.

“I…! I am a Demon King! How dare pathetic insects like you laugh at me!”

“A king? I don’t see any kings here.”

“We see a very generous benefactor, though. Who else provides for us as selflessly as you idiots?”

“Exactly. Cheers to that.”

They roared with laughter.

A tidal wave of fury rose within me. I couldn’t suppress the mounting pressure. So, I let it go.

“If I am to fall, I am taking all of you with me.”

My ruptured heart was failing.

Death was certain.

If so, I would deliver justice before the end. I would make them regret mocking a Demon King.

Even if it required every last drop of my existence.

I squeezed my heart shut. I ignited every ounce of my demonic power.

The air erupted in flames; the heat warped the world.

“The bastard is doing something!”

“Take his head, now!”

The heroes realized the danger too late. They moved in a frenzy. A freezing blade swung toward my neck.

Slice—

A sharp sting at my throat. My perspective spun wildly.

But the process had already begun.

As my vision rotated, I saw my decapitated torso collapse. My heart, still impaled by the hero’s blade, pulsated with a terrifying dark heat.

The compressed demonic energy found its exit through my shattered heart.

I caught a glimpse of the heroes scrambling to escape.

The black inferno consumed everything in sight.

Ah.

It’s burning.

My own fire is this intense.

My life flickered before my eyes like a fading candle. Bitterness and regret took hold.

The protocol was a lie.

If I had known it turned Demon Kings into easy targets for heroes, I never would have followed a single word of it.

If I were given another chance…

I would throw that manual to the filthiest beasts in the realm.

But the realization came too late.

The world went dark.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

‘…plea.’

My thoughts drifted in a void.

I’ve passed on. Is this the realm of the dead?

Where is my soul heading?

‘…se, Da…’

A distant voice reached me. But my fading mind lacked the will to focus.

“Berge Dayas! Are you present?!”

Suddenly—

Light flooded my vision. I sat up with a start.

I was in a massive hall. Hundreds of demons were staring directly at me.

What is happening?

“Berge Dayas! Step forward at once!”

My disorientation lasted only a moment; I saw the master of ceremonies on the platform calling my name repeatedly.

I hurried to the stage. An elder vampire looked at me.

“Berge Dayas. This isn’t like you. Why lose your focus on graduation day?”

From his concerned tone, I could piece together the situation.

A graduation, this specific room.

The vampire Chairman fastened a crimson badge to my coat—the mark of a Demon King awarded to all who finish their training.

Then the truth struck me.

This was the graduation ceremony of the Demon King Academy from fifteen years ago.

I was the star pupil, the genius that everyone was watching.

“It is nothing, sir.”

“Excellent. This institution—and the entire realm—expects great things from you.”

The Chairman spoke the exact words I remembered him saying the first time.

I couldn’t fathom how I had returned to this day.

But a second chance like this? I wouldn’t waste it.

“Thank you. I will exceed those expectations.”

“Very good.”

The Chairman gave me an encouraging pat. Then, the second-ranked students and the rest of the class were called up in sequence.

Each received their badge.

* Graduates, please turn and face the crowd.

I turned around. Hundreds of demons were cheering for our achievement.

* Now, we shall commence the oath for our newly appointed Demon Kings.
* Our valedictorian, Berge Dayas, will lead the recitation for the class.

⚙ OATH OF THE DEMON KING ⚙

[1. A Demon King shall construct a tower within their designated world.] [2. A Demon King shall abduct a prince or a princess.] [3. One must act as the hidden architect of chaos, inciting conflict while leaving clues that lead back to oneself.] [4. A Demon King shall provide material and moral support for the hero’s development.] [5. Station weak demons and beasts on the entry levels, increasing the threat as one ascends. The Demon King shall remain at the peak to await the hero.] [6. The tower…]

That was it.

The Standard of the Demon King.

The set of rules I had stared at for years, memorized until they were part of my soul, and followed with unwavering loyalty.

The total garbage that caused my demise and turned me into a hero’s plaything.

And now, I was expected to read it aloud. To vow before the world that I would live by it.

Total nonsense.

* Berge Dayas?

It is a brainless set of rules. A fundamentally flawed foundation built on lies.

I had no desire to speak those words. No intention at all.

* Please commence the recitation of the glorious Standard of the Demon King immediately.

The announcer prompted me again.

I was well aware that publicly rejecting the doctrine was a massive transgression.

It would effectively end my promising career.

But I had already died following it. I had been humiliated because of it.

“I refuse.”

My hatred for it now far outweighed any previous devotion or belief.

The entire auditorium went dead silent.

“I will not utter that moronic vow. Obeying the Standard of the Demon King is no different from dragging a dead hound into a dragon’s nest—it is the height of stupidity. That doctrine is nothing but!”

Berge screamed, the tension visible in his neck.

“Trash!”

“…!”

“…!”

In that single moment, the golden boy of the Demon King Academy became the world’s greatest madman.