Capítulo 8: Demiurge's Request
[ Capitano POV ]
A shadow loomed over both Shalltear and me as we rested in the quiet stillness of Nazarick. I had been lost in thought, letting my mind drift to trivial musings—until the oppressive sensation of a looming presence shattered the moment. Shalltear, who had been nestled close, seemed equally fixated, her gaze burning into the black void of my helm as though trying to divine the features hidden beneath it. Her fascination was obvious, though unspoken.
I tilted my head upward to meet the source of the interruption and found myself staring at none other than Demiurge, the arch-devil who reigned over the infamous "Happy Farm." The memory of what little I knew about that place sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. From what I'd pieced together, the name was a cruel misnomer—it was not a place of joy but rather a realm filled with torment, agony, and the harrowing echoes of despair.
Demiurge looked down at me with his usual unnerving composure, a small, sharp smile barely visible on his face. It was the kind of smile that always seemed to suggest he was ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. While unsettling, I had learned to keep my reactions subdued. It wouldn't do for a knight of my supposed stature to betray unease.
"Do you need something, Demiurge?" I asked, my tone steady but laced with genuine confusion. I couldn't fathom why he'd interrupt us, especially during such a rare moment of peace.
He bowed slightly, his every movement exuding the meticulous grace he was known for. Shalltear stirred beside me, her annoyance evident in the way her grip on my arm tightened. If her barely-contained glare wasn't enough of an indicator, the way she pressed closer to me certainly was.
"My apologies for the intrusion," Demiurge began, his voice smooth and calculated, as always. "However, I have come to make a proposal—a chess match, like the ones we used to hold when the Supreme Beings were present."
The mention of chess caught me off guard. I blinked, staring up at him in surprise, though I quickly masked it. A chess match? Of all things he could have suggested, this was perhaps the last I'd expected. As I considered his words, a wry thought crossed my mind: Chess, huh? A game of strategy and foresight… yet the only strategy I know is 'lose gracefully.'
In truth, chess had never been my strong suit. Even with guidance and endless advice, I'd somehow managed to lose time and time again—even to opponents with the strategic prowess of an 800 Elo player. Capitano, on the other hand, seemed to be a natural at the game. It made sense, given his apparent role as a general. Chess was practically tailor-made for those who thrived on tactics and planning. As for me… well, let's just say my strengths lay elsewhere.
Despite my inner misgivings, I decided to entertain the idea, if only to maintain appearances. Shalltear's grip tightened further as Demiurge's gaze shifted between us, as though analyzing every micro-expression. "When do you plan to hold this match?" I asked, allowing a hint of intrigue to color my voice.
Demiurge's sharp eyes seemed to glimmer with satisfaction, as though my question confirmed some theory he'd been nurturing. After a moment of silent contemplation, he nodded, as if finalizing a mental calculation. "Five days from now, on the ninth floor. Does that suit you?"
I gave him a small nod in response. The smile that spread across his face was sharper now, his delight almost unnerving. It was as though he'd received news he'd been waiting on for years. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his long coat swaying dramatically behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Shalltear's faint huff of annoyance. She clung to me more tightly than before, her crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of irritation and protectiveness. Whatever plans Demiurge had, she clearly didn't approve of him taking even a sliver of my attention.
Sinking deeper into her embrace, I let myself relax for just a moment. It was… comfortable, in a strange way, though I couldn't afford to let my guard down entirely. That would be dangerous. I needed to maintain my façade as Capitano, the dutiful and loyal knight of Nazarick. Every word, every action, had to align with the role they believed me to play.
But I couldn't help wondering… how much of myself was I already weaving into this act? And at what point would the lines between the mask and the man begin to blur?
Suddenly, I was drawn out of my thoughts by Shalltear's melodic voice. "My, my, you certainly have the knack for drawing attention, my dear Capitano. A match with the Arch-Devil just moments after Nazarick is transported to a new world… truly impressive." Her tone was laced with admiration, though a sly edge lingered beneath her words. She leaned closer to me, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief as her lips curled into a serene, almost predatory smile.
I allowed a small chuckle to escape, the sound muffled by the void-like helm concealing my features. "Perhaps he merely sees me as a worthy opponent," I replied lightly, tilting my head slightly toward her. "I have faced him before, after all." I used what little information I had gleaned from Demiurge to strengthen my response, playing the part of the seasoned knight.
Her smile widened into something more mischievous, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Or perhaps," she began, her voice dropping into a soft, teasing murmur, "he just wants to see how poorly you fare at a game of wits. After all, your strength lies in the battlefield, not the chessboard, does it not?"
So it was going to be like this, huh?
Tilting my head slightly, I let my voice take on a calm yet faintly amused tone. "Ah, but Shalltear, you misunderstand. A chess match is a battlefield—a clash of strategy, positioning, and execution. It's not so different from wielding a blade in the heat of combat."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, glinting with challenge as her silver hair shimmered under the soft glow of the room. "Oh, Capitano," she purred, leaning closer still, her voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. "If that's truly the case, then why do I get the feeling this 'battlefield' of yours might turn into a tragic defeat? Surely, you don't expect to triumph against Demiurge, do you?" Her lips curled into a sultry smile as she tilted her head, crimson gaze locked onto the black void of my helm. "If you want, I could offer you some… guidance. I wouldn't want my dear knight to face humiliation."
I exhaled softly, my tone remaining steady as I replied, "Your concern for my honor is noted, Lady Shalltear, but unnecessary. A knight does not enter a battlefield with doubts, no matter the odds." My posture stayed composed, betraying none of the subtle amusement I felt at her flirtations. "Victory or defeat, it is my duty to rise to any challenge for the glory of Nazarick."
She pouted slightly, the gesture subtle but unmistakable as she tightened her hold on my arm, leaning just enough to remind me of her proximity. "Hmph. You're far too composed for your own good, Capitano. Can't you at least show a hint of apprehension? Or…" Her voice softened into a mockingly sweet lilt, her lips curving upward in a way that could only be described as provocative. "…are you trying to impress me with all this talk of duty and honor?"
I turned my helm slightly toward her, my face hidden but my voice unwavering. "Impressing you would be a noble endeavor, Lady Shalltear, but as I have said before, my priorities lie with my responsibilities to Nazarick." A small pause lingered in the air before I added, "Besides, if this chess match is as much a battlefield as I claim, then I doubt you'll find yourself impressed by the result. I am no tactician."
Her playful smile faltered for a fraction of a second, giving way to a slight frown. Her earlier amusement shifted into something resembling irritation as she tightened her grip on my arm. "And yet," she said, her tone tinged with frustration, "you accept Demiurge's challenge so readily. Honestly, what's stopping me from attending the match myself? Perhaps I could provide… moral support."
I allowed a soft chuckle to escape, lightening the tension ever so slightly. "While I appreciate the offer, I suspect Demiurge would see it as interference in his 'experiment.' You know how meticulous he is. He'd likely argue that your mere presence would skew the results."
Her lips parted, clearly preparing a retort, but she hesitated, her frown deepening as she mulled over my words. Finally, she huffed, her displeasure evident as her gaze darted away momentarily. "So, that smug arch-devil thinks he can just waltz in and steal your attention away from me?" she muttered under her breath, though the words were sharp enough for me to catch. "Does he not realize how rude that is?"
"Steal my attention?" I repeated evenly, my tone calm yet pointed. "It's not quite like that. This is simply a matter of duty, nothing more—a battle to be fought, even if it is on the chessboard."
Her frown deepened as she leaned closer once more, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Still, you'll be wasting precious time on this silly 'battle' of yours, when you could instead be spending it with me. I hardly think Demiurge's little games are worth it."
A thought crossed my mind, one I knew would likely provoke her further, but I couldn't resist. "If it is a battle," I said, my voice calm but resolute, "then it must be approached with all the seriousness of war. And in war, sacrifices must be made—time, focus, even opportunities to fulfill other obligations."
Her expression darkened, and she tilted her head slightly, her voice deceptively light. "Oh? Is that so, my dear knight? Then I suppose that means I'll have to wait even longer for the day I finally see your face."
"Indeed," I replied smoothly, a faint note of dry humor lacing my words. "If I am to treat this chess match as a war, then my helm stays on. After all, a warrior doesn't discard their armor in the middle of battle, wouldn't you agree?"
Her lips twitched into a strained smile as she pulled back slightly, still clutching my arm. "How convenient for you," she said with a huff, her irritation now thinly veiled. "You're very good at finding ways to keep me waiting, Capitano. You realize this only makes me more determined, don't you?"
"Determined or not," I said, inclining my helm slightly toward her, "a knight must prioritize the battlefield before anything else."
She crossed her arms with an audible huff, finally releasing my arm though she still remained close. "Very well," she muttered, her tone begrudging. "Play your little game with Demiurge. But don't think for a moment that I'll let him keep you to himself for long."
The air between us settled into a tense but oddly comfortable silence. Shalltear's presence, though brimming with irritation, was still oddly comforting. It was moments like this that reminded me of the delicate line I walked—the balance between maintaining the façade of Capitano and safeguarding the truths of my identity. For now, I remained the dutiful knight of Nazarick, but as her crimson eyes flickered toward me once more, I couldn't shake the feeling that the mask I wore was growing thinner with every passing minute.
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[Momonga's Omake]
The moment I activated the teleportation spell and vanished from the Arena, I let out a long, soundless sigh. My skeletal face couldn't express emotions, but if it could, I'd probably be grimacing right now.
"What just happened?"
The Guardians' declarations of loyalty still echoed in my mind, each one more grandiose than the last. Demiurge's eloquent praise, Shalltear's devotion, Cocytus's unwavering respect, Mare's timid yet heartfelt words, and Albedo's... well, Albedo's declaration.
"A merciful leader? The mightiest of all Supreme Beings? The man she... loves?"
I stopped pacing and let my nonexistent lungs "breathe" for a moment. Technically, I didn't even have a heart to race or nerves to fray, yet the pressure of their expectations weighed heavily on me.
"This is getting out of hand."
I sat—or rather, plopped—onto the edge of the bed in my private quarters. The room was ornate, luxurious even, as befitting the ruler of Nazarick. But all I could focus on was the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"They see me as some kind of god, the ultimate mastermind. But in reality? I'm just a regular salaryman trapped in a game that wasn't a game anymore."
I leaned back, my skeletal fingers resting against the ornate headboard. The thrill of being surrounded by loyal subordinates had long worn off, replaced by a gnawing sense of impostor syndrome. They all thought I had answers, that I was in control, that I had planned every move with precision.
"But I'm winging this. Every. Single. Moment."
A nervous chuckle almost escaped me as I recalled Capitano's dramatic proclamation. His poetic, reverent description of me as a "mystical being of legend" was so over-the-top it bordered on satire. Yet, somehow, the sincerity in his voice made it even worse. How could I possibly live up to that?
And then there was Albedo.
I straightened slightly, recalling the way her eyes had practically glowed with love—or obsession—when she spoke. The "I love you" line still lingered in my head, and I instinctively covered my nonexistent mouth as if to muffle my thoughts.
"That wasn't in the script. That was not in the script!"
I groaned inwardly, remembering the moment I'd edited her settings before the game's shutdown. What had I been thinking? No—had I been thinking? What if this caused problems later? Could I even fix it now without upsetting the delicate balance of Nazarick's loyalty structure?
"Get it together, Momonga," I scolded myself.
The truth was, I couldn't afford to dwell on what-ifs. I needed to stay focused, to act like the Supreme Being they all believed me to be. Even if it was all a façade, I couldn't let the cracks show. The Guardians' faith in me was absolute. If I faltered, their trust—and possibly the stability of Nazarick—could collapse.
"Still, it's exhausting trying to maintain this act. I need to figure out a way to buy myself more time to strategize."
I stood, pacing again as my thoughts churned. Demiurge's intricate loyalty, Cocytus's militaristic discipline, Aura and Mare's eager service, Sebas's quiet honor, Shalltear's… eccentricity—how was I supposed to lead all of them when I could barely keep myself together?
"They think I'm a ruler, but I'm just a survivor. I don't have a grand plan or some divine insight. All I have is experience from a world that doesn't even exist anymore."
For a moment, I felt a pang of longing for my old life. The humdrum office job, the late-night gaming sessions with friends—sure, it wasn't glamorous, but it was familiar. Predictable.
"But that world is gone, and this is the reality I have now. If I'm stuck here, I have to do everything I can to protect Nazarick. To protect them."
The weight of responsibility settled on me again, heavier than before. But this time, there was a flicker of resolve.
"I may not be the ruler they think I am, but I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if I have to pretend to be invincible."
With that, I straightened my posture and activated a spell to conceal my fatigue. The Guardians wouldn't see my doubts, my fears, or my insecurities. To them, I would remain Momonga, the Supreme Ruler of Nazarick.
And maybe, just maybe, one day I'd even start to believe it myself.
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A/N: Alright, this is just something quick I wrote up for Momongas internal dialogue. Give me your thoughts and opinions on whats good and could be improved on for him. It will take time for me to get better at writing him since he already has a structured personality that I need to get used to doing. Anyways, love you all.
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