The Demon Lords' Banquet, or Walpurgis, was held once more. The massive magic door swung open, revealing the grand banquet hall. In each of the throne-like chairs arranged around a huge round table, the Demon Lords were already seated. However, one seat remained conspicuously empty, a stark contrast to the others.
"Welcome, everyone," the graceful voice of Rain, the blue-haired demon, resounded throughout the hall. She stood by the entrance alongside Misery, the green-haired demon.
"The banquet shall now commence. Let us introduce the esteemed attendees."
Rain's voice echoed in the hushed room.
"Demon (Lord of Darkness), Guy Crimson-sama."
"Pixie (The Labyrinth), Ramiris-sama."
"Dragonoid (The Destroyer), Milim Nava-sama."
"Giant (Earthquake), Dagruel-sama."
"Fallen (The Sleeping Ruler), Dino-sama."
"Vampire (The Bloody Lord), Roy Valentine-sama."
"Beastman (Beast Master), Carrion-sama."
"Harpy (Sky Queen), Frey-sama."
"Deathman (Marionette Master), Clayman-sama."
Guy interrupted the introductions. "That's enough." He surveyed the faces around him.
"You all know why one seat is vacant. One of us, Kazaream, is absent."
Everyone present was, of course, already aware. Yet, a palpable silence fell upon them.
"How shocking! Who could have slain him?" Carrion asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and surprise.
Guy did not respond directly. Instead, he looked toward the entrance with an amused expression.
"Due to this vacancy, a new individual will be joining us. Enter."
A magical portal opened, and Leon Cromwell stepped through. With his golden hair, flawless features, and a distinctive robe, he walked with a calm demeanor toward the empty seat. His immense aura as a Demon Lord filled the air, putting pressure on everyone present.
In a corner of the room, Clayman clenched his hands. A subtle smirk formed on his face, but his eyes were filled with a burning hatred.
Guy Crimson noticed the expression but chose to ignore it, continuing the proceedings. "Hear me," he said in a resonant voice, his gaze sharp. "Now, Leon Cromwell, do you have anything you wish to say here?"
He paused briefly. "For a former True Hero to obtain a Demon Lord seed and defeat a fellow Demon Lord is an accomplishment worthy of praise," Guy remarked with a tone of sarcasm.
Leon remained composed and replied with indifference, "I have nothing to say regarding my ascension to Demon Lord status. It is simply a matter of course. The weak who perish hold no significance, and it is only right that they accept their fate."
Upon hearing this, Guy burst into boisterous laughter. "Hahaha, you are a most fascinating individual. You should be grateful, as I shall consider you a companion."
Leon Cromwell remained unperturbed. "Do as you please."
A faint smile appeared on Guy's face. "Does anyone object to his claim as a Demon Lord?"
Silence settled over the room. Not a single Demon Lord raised an objection.
"Excellent," Guy smirked. "It seems the matter is settled. From this moment forth, you are a Demon Lord, just as we are."
Leon simply gave a small nod, his expression unchanging. "Thank you."
"Ah, don't be so formal," Guy chuckled. In a flash, he transformed into a stunning red-haired woman with a mischievous smile.
"Would you care to indulge in a bit of pleasure with me?" she purred, kissing Leon's cheek.
Wiping the mark from his cheek, Leon replied, "I have no interest in men."
"Oh, come now, for a being such as myself, changing gender to suit your preference is a trivial matter," Guy said with a sly smile.
"Your swordsmanship... is quite intriguing, Leon," Guy continued, his voice now soft yet laced with danger. "A blade technique capable of effortlessly defeating a Demon Lord. I'm quite fascinated. What do you say? Would you care to fight me?."
Leon regarded him with a flat, emotionless stare. "I am not interested," he answered curtly. "The disparity in our power is too great. I have no desire to waste my time on a battle I cannot win."
Guy's faint smile returned as he reverted to his original form. "Oh, come on, perhaps there's a one in a million chance you might scratch me."
"This is a rare opportunity," Frey interjected, her voice calm. "Now that we have a new Demon Lord, we can re-evaluate our territories and spheres of influence."
Carrion nodded in agreement. "A wise suggestion. It will prevent unnecessary conflicts in the future."
Milim, oblivious to the deeper meaning, exclaimed, "I agree!" raising a hand covered in sauce.
"Indeed," Guy replied. "We can discuss this after we have eaten."
Clayman, who had remained silent, finally spoke. His smile appeared more insincere than usual. "I believe that is an excellent idea. After all, there's no point in delaying the inevitable, is there?"
"Speaking of tedious matters," Guy shifted his gaze to Clayman. "Kazaream is no longer with us, and his territory must be managed."
Clayman's expression hardened. He bowed his head slightly. "I am prepared to assume that responsibility. Due to Lord Kazaream's generosity, I was able to become a Demon Lord, and for that, I am deeply grateful. I feel it is my duty to ensure his domain does not fall into the wrong hands."
"Excellent," Guy said, as if it had been prearranged. "His territory shall be yours. You will become the new ruler of Kazaream's domain. You have no objections, do you, Clayman?" Guy asked with a slight smile.
"O-of course not, Guy."
Kazaream-sama.. Clayman thought
The meeting continued with more casual conversation. They discussed how to maintain the balance of power, who to be wary of, and how their influence would continue to expand across the world.
Leon, now officially a Demon Lord, remained silent, observing everyone.
"I hope I can find you soon,"Leon reflected.
After Walpurgis concluded, Leon returned to his kingdom, his mind filled with significant thoughts.
Kazaream's Territory
The secret hideout of the Moderate Clown Troupe, a place typically filled with laughter and banter, was now steeped in a profound and piercing sorrow. The flickering candlelight on the table illuminated the somber faces of the three figures sitting in silence. The masks that usually concealed their emotions now seemed like a weight too heavy to bear.
Footman, the "Angry Clown," gripped his angry mask tightly, his body trembling. There was no roar of rage, only a choked sob that conveyed the immense pain in his heart. Beside him, Teare, the "Crying Clown," hung her head. She did not weep, but her eyes, which always appeared tear-filled, were now filled with deep grief.
The most striking figure was Laplace. He was usually the soul of the group, with his constant smirk and endless jokes. Now, he sat in a corner, clutching his knees, the smirk on his mask a cruel irony. Since they felt their master's power disappear, he had not uttered a single word.
The heavy silence was finally broken by Footman's raspy voice. "We must kill that man..." he muttered, his voice filled with controlled fury. "That bastard Leon... he killed Boss."
Teare lifted her head, her tear-filled eyes looking forward. "There is no purpose in anger. Boss always said, emotions only lead to weakness. We must think."
Laplace, who had been quiet, finally raised his head. His voice was flat and cold, a stark contrast to his usual cheerful tone. "Teare is right. We must avenge him with a calculated plan. We are his clowns. We shall play our roles, and the world will dance to our tune."
Footman slammed his fist on the table, causing the candles to sway. "So what?!" he shouted. "He killed Boss! What do we do now?"
"Calm yourself, Footman," Teare said. "Boss left us with a mission. We are to continue his plan, and from there, we will gain the power we need for revenge."
Laplace, "Indeed. We still have Clayman."
"We will help him manage the empty territory of Boss, and from there, we will rebuild our strength," Teare continued, her eyes gleaming with resolve. "We must ensure that Boss's plan proceeds through Clayman."
Footman clenched his hands. His rage had not diminished, but it now had a clear objective. "Then we shall gather our power and exact our revenge... until we can resurrect our master," he muttered, a horrifying smile forming behind his mask.
The three looked at one another, and a silent pact was made. A pact born of sorrow and fury. Their mission was clear: to avenge their master, no matter the cost.
Great changes were imminent.
The era before Rimuru Tempest's arrival would be one filled with intricate plots and significant developments.
And far away, in another world, a man named Mikami Satoru was concluding his workday, completely unaware that his destiny had begun to turn, leading him toward a fantasy world that he would forever change.