The Tyrant’s Last Doll

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“Hm?”

He turned towards me, like he’d noticed I was there.

Wh-what? Can he see me?

The old man’s red eyes had pupils that were horizontally crossed.
They flashed, like they were the only fresh parts of his body.

I stood back, flustered and his red eyes curved.

“Aha.” Understanding flickered in his eyes.
Then he spotted Ridrian, who was lying as though dead, and smiled.

“So this little thing is the first person to summon me in thousands of years,” he said.

He poked Ridrian with his foot like he was nothing.

D-don’t do it!

Obviously, he couldn’t hear me.

“Tsk-tsk, he’s almost dead.
There’s no fun.
Okay, child.
Tell me your wish.
What is it that you want?”

“What…what are you?” Ridrian asked weakly.

The old man grinned.
“Did you ask what? Hm, you might be young, but you’re still a golden line.
Yes, good question.
I’m not a human.
I’m a demon.”

Rirdian blinked.
“Demon?”

“Yes—at least, from your human perspective.
My kind was exiled by Theres a long time ago.
Back then, we used to lend you our power at a cost.”

Demon! I clamped a hand over my mouth in surprise.
I’d known this room felt weird, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it had a magic circle for summoning demons drawn in it!

What kind of crazy person made this in a palace?

Although this was the past, I felt a flicker of anger.
But Ridrian seemed to think he’d struck gold.

“Those exiled…by Theres.”

“Hmm.” The old man’s face lit up with interest.
The way he looked made me anxious.

Demons were despicable beings.
They were sociopaths who would do anything if it benefited them.
Positive reactions from them usually meant demise for humans.

“The golden line that denied God.
Very good, very good.
You will make a great key.”

“A…key?”

“Yes, child.
What is your wish?”

What is your wish?

It was a very ominous question.
In that moment, I was struggling to figure all of this out like a puzzle—Ridrian who had been wounded by divine power; Ridrian, whose eyes seemed to have aged with anger; Ridrian, who would have power beyond human imagination.

No way…

The boy, who had been through hell and back, opened his mouth.
And he begged.

“I…need…power.”

What I’d thought was merely a delusion was unfolding right before my eyes.

“What kind of power? Authority? Magic? Strength?”

“I…I don’t care which.
I’m going…to get out here alive, rip that…that bastard crown prince apart and find Lily, kill the Emperor who killed my mother…and get rid of everyone.
I’m going to destroy this world.”

In his despair, he wanted the destruction of the world.
The more he spoke, the more content the old man seemed.

“Very good,” he said.
“Okay—I’ll make your wish come true.”