“This place has been gathering dust,” Lord Despicatius Horrend commented, his disapproving glance sweeping over the dimly lit stone corridor. A pale finger stretched out from his regal cloak, his nail on the stone wall as he walked by.

“That is the third line just this week, m’lord. Your seventeenth this month, and your eig-“

“Yes, as always, your arithmetic skills never fail to amaze me, Badia,” Despicatius swished his sleeve, nonchalant. His secretary, Badia Horrend sighed and continued to scratch out notes on her notepad. “M’lord, the finances this time are becoming tight. The Slime Wine business is failing, and the King of Azertol is about to re-issue all the coins to crackdown on the ones who don’t pay taxes, so our finances may become non-existent soon. Not just that, the dungeon hasn’t had adventurers visiting it for a month now.”

“Save it for the Throne Room, Badia. I have only just awoken, and I must say, my dreams have awoken a curious desire for something that the humans call... creampuffs, I think. I will be requiring some for my breakfast,” he said, occasionally squiggling his scratch on the wall. The ghastly green lights flickered, and their shadows danced around. “These ghost lamps that Deviousan sold to us... perhaps he himself was scammed, these darned things keep flickering out.”

Badia looked up from her notepad, regarding her Lord with undisguised schadenfreude. “I had already advised you when you had planned to take Lord Deviousan’s deal, but m’lord in his infinite wisdom had concluded that using discarnate souls that may or may not be present as fuel was ingenious. Naturally, m’lord’s wisdom shines through.”

Despicatius faltered, his line disconnecting for the briefest moments before he continued walking as if nothing had happened. “Humph, what would you know? You were merely a babe when I picked you up, so you naturally do not know of my lineage. I am the sevente-“

“-The seventieth grandson of the Sixty-Seventh Demon Pillar Horathorn, and one of his favourite grandsons at that,” Badia interrupted her eyes back on her notepad. “Although Demon King Horathorn had left for negotiations with the Lodred Hero almost a hundred years prior to your birth, and the only reason he had left any assets for you were because seventy was a fairly liked number to him.” A smile appeared on her thin lips as she pushed up her spectacles.

“You’re awfully chatty when it comes to things like this,” grumbled Despicatius.

“As you have taught me, m’lord,” came the curt reply.

“I’ll have you know, you were but a babe when I pick-.”

“Indeed, and I am forever thankful to m’lord for picking me up from the town, thereby allowing me the gracious opportunity to be your secretary when I could’ve been Princess of the Northern Realm,” Badia replied.

“Ha, the King of the Northern Realm, such a fool to have a child in this village and forget her here. Only I could realize your potential, and with the two of us, lording over the Northern Realm is just a stone’s throw away,” Despicatius proudly declared.

“As you say, m’lord,” Badia replied, disregarding him completely.

Despicatius settled into his marble throne, shifting uncomfortably as he adjusted his cloak about so that the rough throne would not cut into his back. Settled, he crossed his leg over the other, and rested his chin on his hand, surveying all those before him with an imperial dignity.

“I must say m’lord, despite your other... inadequacies, your impersonation of Demon Lord Fortath never fails to impress,” Badia commented, pulling out a stylus from her sleeve.

He smiled faintly, eyes unreadable as they came to rest on Badia. “Girl, an offspring from a Demon King is never lacking. We are of royal blood.”

“As you say, m’lord,” Badia ignored her lord, scrolling quickly on her notepad. “As you have asked, I sent for Leghjor to get the creampuffs, but apparently he quit. Orc Leader on level three is also considering leaving with his tribe, and so is the Minotaur tribe, not counting the Gobli-”

“Those cowards!” His hand clenched on the armrest, but he immediately began squirming. “Argh! This infernal throne! Why has it not been fixed yet!? Has everyone begun to forget my name?!” He thundered, crimson eyes glowing brilliantly. An ethereal flame lit up in his pupils as a crushing pressure descended on the room. Badia faltered, sweat beading on her forehead as she faced the angry Demon Lord.

“M’lord, you must calm yourself! Your aura may destroy the dungeon, it’s too weak already!” Badia warned him, panicked.

The very floor began to shake as dust cascaded down on Despicatius. Coughing, he reluctantly withdrew his aura, eyes dimming. But nevertheless, a prideful expression came on to his face as he regarded Badia’s terrified face. “Humph, that should show them, trying to leave me after I personally took them into my wing.” With a satisfied smile that he tried to hide, he brushed off the dust on his shoulders. His eyes swept over the rubble scattered around the Throne Room, for amongst them, there lay a bust that curiously resembled him. “Has the cleaning team left as well, those filthy ingrates?”

“M-m’lord...” Badia took a deep breath, her usual composure returning. “The last adventurer raid was devastating since they have invaded till level two the last time. The Slime tribe was wiped out, and the Goblins bore devastating losses. Before the Minotaur tribe could come support them what with their barbaric looting, they fled with the crystals that mankind has invented...along with our slaves.” She began twisting a strand of pink hair, regarding Despicatius with her usual icy gaze.

“Argh! Dungeon crystals, what kind of a buffoon makes escape crystals! And to sell them so cheap!”

“To be fair m’lord, those crystals are a technological leap in the use of mag-“

“Irrelevant! We’ll need to organize a raid on the nearest human town then.”

Badia chuckled, her stylus flicking as the screen arrived at a new page. “I’m afraid we can’t m’lord, we only have the Minotaurs, Orcs and the Guardian left, and they wouldn’t take too kindly to give up their members by taking on such risks.” Badia looked up at him, eyes grave. “The hero summoning business is kicking up, and these strange yellow-skinned people end up here. We can’t even kill the weakest of them. Some extreme rumors say that Demon Emperor Solomon himself fought and won against a newly summoned hero, but couldn’t manage to kill him.”

“Tourist hero programs, bah! We had warned Demon King Claudius that messing with other dimensions wasn’t wise, and now look at what he did. These damn yellow-bellied rugrats.” Despicatius rumbled, slamming his fist against the throne, his composure totally forgotten. “Father had advised me to become a level boss in his dungeon, but I knew that I could make it big as a Demon Lord myself, and I was not about to ruin my fame by being a mere boss. But then these damnable heroes end up here, killing our business.”

“Heroes have only been summoned in the Eastern and Southern Realm, they haven’t even started spreading here, m’lord. This wouldn’t be their fault.”

Despicatius rubbed his forehead, smooth fingers massaging his stiff skin. “What of the Slime Wine? Is it not tasty? Why would humans not buy it? Would they not drown themselves in anything that they can drink?”

“M’lord, perhaps it would have been better had we not blatantly named it Slime Wine, so that people couldn’t figure out without any work on their part that this was made from sentient feces. Of course, this was done by m’lord’s command, and with your infinite wisdom, business will be booming anytime soon.” Badia smirked, the single azure eye glinting.

“Humph, what do you know? As Grandfather used to say, as long as we’re honest, selling it is simply a matter of time.” He smiled proudly, fingers tapping on the throne’s armrest. “Perhaps I should act myself, and that would scare the humans into coughing up some tribute.”

Badia looked up at him, a strange expression on her face. “M’lord, the Demon Lord Suppression Treaty is still valid, if you might have forgotten. If a Demon Lord were to personally act, their rights to the Evil Convention would be taken away. And if you lost that, holding the Orcs and Minotaur here would be a simple dream.”

He laughed uproariously, undisguised pride in his voice as he responded. “Take away my right? Ha! I am the seventieth grandson of Demon King Horathorn, the Sixty Seventh Demon Pillar! My powers are far beyond their reckoning, and if I were to fight, the skies themselves would shake! It’s only my condition that-“

“Your condition has been diagnosed to be non-existent already, m’lord. Perhaps, since m’lord has mentioned it, it is a fatal plague that cannot be detected. And that might have been what caused m’lord’s throat to ache the other day, although it was diagnosed to be a simple cough.” Badia responded with an even tone.

“Indeed! If it were not for my condition... I feel like I’d die if I was to fight myself, otherwise I’d be killing all those heroes with my own two hands!” Despicatius declared, clenching his fist.

“M’lord, with all due respect, although your aura is quite terrifying, you were struggling to catch an Enderbug the other day...” Badia trailed off, an evidently satisfied smile on her face. “Either way m’lord, it’s been fifteen minutes since you’ve sat down, I’d suggest it’s time for your afternoon nap?”

Despicatius snorted, getting up from his chair. With a smiling Badia in tow, he headed back down the corridor, back to his residence. They did not speak the entire time till he reached his cavern. Flicking back his silver hair, he slid into his coffin with grace. The blood on his torn chest still glistened. Looking at Badia, whose grin persisted, he grumbled in a low voice. “Humph, what would you know? I’ll have you know that-“

Badia smiled to herself, looking up from her notepad toward the resting Demon Lord, blood trickling down her gouged out eye. “Yes m’lord, you have once killed a legendary Basilisk that was already left half-dead by Lord Evilian that he couldn’t kill because......”

And so the struggles of the late Lord Despicatius Horrend the Sixth continued, his obedient secretary in tow, they the ghostly remnants of a world left ravaged by Heroes.

For legends say that the corpse of the aspiring Demon Lord still lies in his coffin, almost as if he was sleeping. His loyal yet disapproving secretary, Badia Horrend, leaning against his final resting place. A dungeon he once lorded over, now with nary a living soul. The world that gave birth to them, now a wasteland.

But despite that, a faint smile hung on Badia’s pallid face, for she’d spend eternity with her father.