in which the demon king commits heinous acts of hedonism and gets a floral bath

Alpherson’s minions were at the hot tub when Frell waltzed into the hotel. So peaceful were they, resting against its edges, showing off their sculpted bodies, that they didn’t notice until Frell stood beside them and said, “Hiii.”

It wasn’t often that Frell heard such colorful swearing. Above it, he continued: “I’m also glad to see you guys! It’s such a shame that the teleporting stone just happened to malfunction, huh? Almost like it was tampered with, huh?!” He stomped on the arm of one of them.

Said minion—Alphonse—didn’t even seem to register this. “A-a-alphell, the god of apples is—”

“Here.” Frell dug his heel into the guy’s arm. “Since I’m nice, I’ll let you two finish your bubble bath, but once you do, and no LATER than an HOUR from now, I want a new multi-use teleporting stone, three bottles of wine, a girl, and a salt bomb. Do you understand.”

They nodded frantically.

Three hours later, armed with a new teleporting stone, smelling like roses, and nourished in multiple ways, Frell headed to the Hall of Gods.

He sighed. What a torture it was to be selfless; everything within him ached to tag along with Pebble and co. Nail-impaling aside, spending time with people who didn’t hate or fear him for once had been nice. Unfortunately, Pebble had STILL not grown out of certain… tendencies, which was to say that the scheme would digress endlessly as she tried to play armchair psychologist with everyone she encountered.

Thus Frell had to sacrifice himself yet again. The usual. As the goddess of the sun tried to incinerate him, Frell teleported away from the entrance of the Hall of Gods, then appeared next to her. “Hi.”

She jumped off the watchtower. “FRELL IS HERE!”

Alarm trumpets began to blare.

Frell sat on her chair, watching the Holy City descend into madness. For some reason, in the distance, a fire went off. Several gods jumped off their respective towers.

So… Alpherson’s minions had sabotaged the first teleporting stone. Why? To get rid of him, obviously, but why? After threatening their lives, he’d been pretty nice. Was it to lollygag at work? Because if so, Frell would not let such immorality go by unnoticed.

As for Lou, she’d sabotaged his Demon King appearance. Asking her for help again would be futile. He’d have to humbly request someone else’s aid to act as the villain for the second stone, but who?

Frell watched the gods scramble like ants below him. He could use his primordial authority to force one of them into it, sure, but that would be no better than puppeteering a corpse. Besides, he agreed with Topaz—the quest lost meaning if no one believed in it.

No.

It had to be someone dumb. Someone easy to… not manipulate because that sounded mean… incentivize. Then again, wasn’t that puppeteering with extra steps?

Frell hopped off the tower and out of the city, landing on a cool, fluffy cloud. “Ah, right,” he mumbled. He also needed to find someone who wasn’t crazy this time.

When the goddess of the sun channeled a beam that took eight minutes to arrive from the source, Frell used the god of shadows to block this, who had snuck behind him with a knife. Since they were both crazy, he kept searching.

When the god of fireflies showed up with his bug-army, since Frell liked animals, he made them mate instead of harming them. “I have a favor to ask,” he asked the god, who fell on his knees, pounding the cloud-ground with his fists as his kingdom plunged into debauchery around him. “If you say yes, I’ll see if they can promote you back to god of lightning.”

“I have nothing to say to you, traitor!”

So Frell kept searching.

The goddess of turtles said no.

The goddess of discounts said no.

The god of the second law of thermodynamics said no.

And the thing was, he could hire some mercenary to act as the villain, sure: the problem was PEBBLE. If Frell told her to hold back, she’d ruin the scenario with poor acting. If Frell did not tell her to hold back, she’d ruin the scenario by beating up the guy in one hit. Therefore, the only solution was to find a god who’d last longer than thirty seconds.

Or Lou. All roads lead to her, apparently.

Oh, well.

Speaking of—as he walked down the streets of the Holy City, surrounded by screams and spontaneous fires, a bubble trapped him. A moment later, Lou hopped beside him, popping said bubble with her spear. “Still alive,” she noted. “Unfortunate.”

Frell shook his head; droplets flew everywhere.

“Looks like some of your brain is still doglike.”

“Hi, Lou. Stop trying to kill gods. That’s not nice.”

“Why are you terrorizing the City this time?”

“This time, she says.” Frell squeezed his hair to get the water out. “I literally just showed up.”

“Considering your banishment, that alone counts as terrorism. Do you mean to say that these fires and the fallen Holy Tower happened by themselves?”

“Yes?”

Lou narrowed her eyes. She was cross-armed, wearing a flower crown that clashed with her clothes rather than complement them. “...let’s say that’s true. Why did you show up again if you knew you’d cause this reaction?” Absent-mindedly, she flicked a second sunbeam with the back of her hand which was probably meant for Frell and which bounced back on the goddess of the sun, setting her ablaze. Since she’d been flying, she fell to the ground like a dried leaf.

Frell grimaced. “Lou.”

“Answer me.”

“I. I will, but you just…” In the distance, several gods rushed to help her, including the goddess of aloe vera. “...never mind. Since you tried to kill me last time, you still owe me a favor, you’ll be the one acting as the Demon King this time.”

“Didn’t you have enough already?”

“I didn’t have anything already, because you turned me into a dog.”

Lou gave up on fighting the smirk. “Art is in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it? You said big and strong. You didn’t specify which species.”

The goddess of the sun, now red and patched up, was coming back for more. She hovered above them, channeling astral powers. It’d take eight minutes for the next sunbeam to reach them. Why didn’t she attack using elements from this world? Who knew—a lot of knowledge from the old world had been buried along with it, so it was likely that she didn’t even know about light having finite speed.

“God of lust.”

“Frell,” he corrected. “I spaced out for a bit. Yeah, very funny and stuff. I’m not trying to do anything that bad, just testing humanity. Oh, oops. I guess society is the better term.”

“Yes.” Lou tapped at her ear, which was rounded. “I also forget sometimes. Are you that bored?”

“Not bored, no.”

“Then?”

They dodged a gravity bomb. The god of gravity had died and no one had filled the position yet, so the spell was weak; it fizzled out the moment it touched ground. The cloud barely dented before fluffing up again. Whoever had casted it did not try again. “Disappointed, maybe.”

“Oh?” Lou raised her eyebrows.

Frell grinned at her. “If you join, I’ll tell you more.”

“Huh? Who said I care about your disappointment?”

“Me. I know you do. I know you feel the same way.”

Since she scowled, Frell knew that she’d say yes.

And she did.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Alpherson,” Topaz said. “Come on. We have to bring back democracy.”

“Saint Pebble is the leader,” was his reply.

Not too far away, a giant turtle floated at the station as passengers crawled up its shell. According to the map Pebble had purchased, they’d be one-fifth of the way to Alph Town if not for Topaz’s incessant whining; his request for urban tourism had been a trick to lure them to the turtle station at the edge of the mining town.

And Pebble had enough.

She’d had enough when she dropped Frell at the hotel and saw a bunch of girls conspicuously head in its direction not too long after.

She’d had enough when they stopped by the thrift store inn again, only to find that Alphie had re-opened it. Lest Pebble close it for good, Topaz had to explain that Alphie was just being a friend during the kidnapping attempt, that it was a one-time felony, that times were tough but not that tough, and that Alphie would never do it again. Pebble would request for a couple of Saints to inspect the area later.

She’d had enough when she left bounty notices around the state-capital and the only prospect was some girl claiming that she could do it all, harassing Pebble into buying fake paintings that were actually prints.

And now this. “We. Are. Not. Using. Turtles.” She said.

“Look at this.” Topaz pointed at the bulletin board. Beside it stood a bored-looking turtle whisperer. “Three days to Alph Town by turtle. TWO WEEKS by foot. We don’t have the time for this.”

“Are you riding or not?” asked the turtle whisperer.

“Yes,” Topaz said.

“No,” Pebble said.

Soon, the turtle departed, floating towards the clouds. Pebble found herself fidgeting, so she stopped. Between them thinking her a despot and finding out the truth—that turtle traveling made her hurl—the former was preferable.

“...well then. Great. Now what, Saint?”

Worst of all was Alpherson’s judgmental look despite his words.

Pebble had styled her hair into a loose bun today; she toyed with one of the strands framing her face. “We walk.”

“Is walking necessary?” Alpherson inquired.

“Nothing in life is necessary.”

“Are you afraid of heights?” asked Topaz.

“No.”

“Then why are you being dumb?”

“Y-you’re dumb.”

Then a new person said, “...hey…”

Said person was a wolf-woman. “Go away, Frell,” Pebble snapped.

The wolf-woman blinked. “Pardon me?”

…though on second thought, Frell hadn’t been able to speak at the time. The woman was covered in brown fur, with a wolf’s snout, wearing nothing but a knitted pink hat and a scarf. Topaz and Alpherson exchanged glances. One encounter with a creature at the brink of extinction was strange enough, but two? “Um. Sorry. Never mind. I confused you with someone else.”

“I see. That’s fine. If I may, have you tried centipede traveling?”

Of course, Topaz whined again. “Nope. Uh-uh. Fuck those things. No.”

The wolf-woman smiled, which was… strange considering her facial structure. “Do you fear them by any chance?”

“If I fear bugs, then the Saint fears heights.”

“I do not.”

“Then I do not.”

“I’ve heard about this new method of mass transportation,” Alpherson said. “To ease the population into it, traveling agencies have been offering free trips. Is this what this is about?”

The wolf-woman nodded. “One-way trip to Alph Town completely for free! Well, with seven other customers.”

“No,” Topaz said.

Pebble had seen them around. Someone had resurrected, domesticated, and bred ancient bugs from a group of stone slabs. They’d shown up to the Hall of Saints a few times, begging for sponsors. Pebble had become an investor out of pity. It wasn’t exactly a thriving business due to judgmental, horrible people like Topaz.

And there it was—revenge.

“No,” he repeated when he saw Pebble’s expression. “You monster. No. There are like. You know those winged girls that carry people with their talons? I know you’re AFRAID of HEIGHTS, but we can ask them to—”

“I’m not.” Pebble turned to the wolf-woman. “Deal.” Enthusiastically, she held out a claw, but Pebble didn’t shake it, and not only because Topaz was holding her arm back. “One thing: if this is a…”

…trap, then to warn her would be to put her on high alert. And if it was a trap, why would Pebble not stop it?

“Trap,” Topaz said.

Pebble batted his hand off. “Lead the way.”

“Saint, it’s a trap. Centipedes are carnivores. They make squelchy sounds. Those eyes have nothing but hatred in them. Alph—never mind, you’ll just agree with her. Fuck it, I’ll walk.”

“Bye,” Pebble said.

Thus spoke Alpherson: “If I may, I have the following proposal: Topaz can travel by turtle; we can travel by centipede. I myself have a phobia of harpies, so the third proposed method would’ve been a cumbersome obstacle. With this, all of us can enable our respective cowardice.”

Topaz opened his mouth. Then he closed it. He glanced at the wolf-woman. At Alpherson. At Pebble. “...fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Why? Is there a problem with that solution?”

“...no.”

“Saint Pebble, would it be alright if I travel with Topaz instead? He seems to have separation anxiety.”

Pebble felt vindicated until Topaz did not contest this, instead giving an awkward smile and looking away. Then she felt like shit. But if she agreed on traveling by turtle, they would’ve wasted the wolf-woman’s time, and the wolf-woman was probably part of another bandit scheme anyway, so she ended up agreeing to it.

After Topaz and Alpherson left, the wolf-woman escorted Pebble to increasingly narrowing hallways, so she sighed. Once they could barely fit through one, Pebble took out her hairpin.

She struck.

The wolf-woman parried her not with a claw, but a sacred spear. “Ah,” she said, and then, “Oh, well,” and then she took off a talisman, thus revealing herself. Being darker-skinned than Topaz and having similarly big eyes, Pebble found her vaguely familiar. “I hope you’ve been well, Saint of Swords #244.”

Pebble stared at the spear. Was she a goddess? Yet she dressed as a peasant. “Uh… you too.”

The former wolf-woman wasn’t amused. “Do you know who I am?”

“...yes…”

Silence.

Pebble swallowed. “I’ve been well. How about you?”

Silence.

“Was the centipede thing real…”

“It was.” The goddess gave her one last look, then turned around again. Something told Pebble that to strike this woman’s back would be her last mistake. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll cast another illusion. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Upon slapping another talisman on, she was a wolf-woman again, and the goddess continued to walk.

Behind her, Pebble kept tapping her forehead. She was so, so sure that she’d seen this woman before, but where?

She reached the centipede station—a decrepit shack at the end of an alley with a girl napping at the counter, a stable full of centipedes, and crates upon crates of food. Fruit, not meat. The only other passengers were a family of four. Pebble crawled up the insect.

Unprompted, as they waited for the other slots to fill, the wolf-woman told Pebble, “This is a miryapod, by the way, not an insect.”

“...ah.”

The next passenger was, funnily, a harpy. To the family’s dismay, she tore nothing—after all, everything under her neck was covered in feathers. No wonder Topaz liked them. Frell would probably like them too.

As the miryapod began to walk, Pebble curled into a ball.

No one to talk to…